‘Come on,’ said Justin briskly. ‘It’s lunchtime; we need to get back.’
Laura hurried after him.
Meg didn’t bother with lunch. Once she’d scrubbed the kitchen table, getting rid of any germs Laura might have left on it, Meg made a trifle for the dessert trolley and then a couple of cakes. While these were out of the oven and cooling, Meg wrote a detailed list of things she needed to do. She had found Laura’s visit very unsettling, and annoyingly it had knocked her confidence; a good list would help.
Meg was just wondering if she was hungry when Ambrosine came into the kitchen. She was wearing a pair of galoshes over the sensible lace-ups she wore for walking and had the colonel with her. He was dressed in ancient, much-darned tweed shooting apparel and was carrying a flat wicker basket.
‘Oh, hello!’ said Meg, feeling guilty. ‘Do you want lunch?’
‘We had bread and cheese at the pub,’ said the colonel. ‘And a very good drop of ale.’
‘I’ve just popped in because I think I left my secateurs here,’ said Ambrosine. ‘Bertie is kindly going to help me pick flowers for a big arrangement in the hall. We’re going to bring the garden into the house in the fine tradition of Constance Spry!’
‘That would be wonderful, Ambrosine. I’m so grateful,’ said Meg.
‘We must have everything perfect for Lady Fussy-Knickers!’ said Ambrosine, twinkling.
Meg’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘I didn’t realise other people knew of that nickname,’ she said, remembering too late that she’d said it to Sally that morning.
‘As long as the guests don’t hear us calling anyone that, all will be well,’ said Ambrosine. ‘Now, have you enough cakes for tea? Some people go mad for cake.’
‘Now you’re making me worry, Ambrosine,’ said Meg. ‘I’ll make a batch of butterfly cakes as well. They don’t take long to cook and Susan can help me ice them.’
‘I’m sure they’ll be delicious,’ said the colonel, who was one of the people who loved cake.
Soon after they’d left, Susan and Cherry, who’d been home for lunch, came in.
‘Are we absolutely sure how many people Lady Fussy – Lady Lennox-Stanley is bringing?’ Susan asked.
‘I meant to ring Vanessa yesterday to check,’ said Meg, ‘but never got round to it. I did ring this morning but they’d already left.’
Cherry, who had the guestbook tucked under her arm, took it out and studied it. ‘It’s just Lady Lennox-Stanley, her two friends who are a couple, and Vanessa. Plus the other guests, of course.’
‘Should be fine,’ said Meg, trying to sound optimistic but failing. She knew she’d feel better when Vanessa got here. She could tell her all about Laura sitting on the kitchen table and bragging about Justin.
Tea was over and Meg was in the entrance hall, admiring Ambrosine’s floral arrangement, when a car pulled up on the gravel outside. Vanessa came tearing into the hotel. ‘My bloody mother! I swear to God she does it on purpose! I am so sorry!’
Meg suppressed the jolt of anxiety this caused. ‘Don’t worry, Nessa. I’m sure whatever your mother has done can be managed. Where is she?’
‘Her new friend is parking the car. They wouldn’t let me stop on the way to telephone and warn you, but I made them let me come in now.’
‘We knew your mother was bringing two friends,’ said Cherry soothingly. ‘We just thought they were arriving separately. No need to panic.’
‘It’s not those friends! Theyarecoming separately. It’s Basil.’
‘Basil?’ said Meg bemused.
‘A man my mother has only just met. He heard we were coming to Nightingale Woods for the race day and he said he was desperate to come too. So my mother – who has never made a spontaneous gesture before in her life, I swear – said, “That would be such fun. You can help Vanessa with the driving.”’
Meg put on a smile. ‘Don’t worry, Ness. We can find room for a single gentleman.’
‘Yes!’ agreed Cherry. ‘We made up an extra room for just this emergency – although of course it isn’t one really.’
‘Oh, it is really!’ said Vanessa. ‘Do you still keep a bottle of sherry in the kitchen?’
‘Of course,’ said Meg.
‘You take her through,’ said Susan. ‘We can deal with Lady L-S and this Basil she’s brought with her.’
