‘I’m sure one will be round in a minute or two,’ said Florence.
‘Do you know what I really fancy?’ he said.
‘Surprise me.’
‘A big fry-up when we’re home. What do you say to eggs, bacon, sausages and a slice or two of fried bread? We could eat it by the fire, all nice and cosy like we used to.’
‘Sounds perfect,’ she said. ‘But won’t your mother be coming round?’
‘Not tonight, I told her we’d be back late.’
Florence looked at her husband. ‘If I didn’t know better, William Minton, I’d say you have an ulterior motive.’
He winked. ‘And you’d be dead right.’
She leaned in to him and kissed his cheek. ‘How many times have I told you before, I’m always right?’
‘I’ve lost count. But I just thought it would be good to have some proper time alone, now that George is back at his studies in London and we have the house to ourselves again.’
‘I can see that you’ve put some thought into this.’
‘I have,’ he said, stepping aside to let another couple of guests pass by. ‘But you know,’ he went on, ‘you’re not always right. You were wrong not to tell me about those poison pen letters. You’d have saved yourself a lot of worry if you had.’
‘I know that now,’ she said, ‘but at the time, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you.’
‘I still can’t believe you doubted me, that you thought I could be messing about with some woman behind your back.’
‘That’s the trouble with poison pen letters,’ said Florence, ‘they poison the mind.’
‘Hello Mr and Mrs Minton, would you like something to eat?’
Florence turned from her husband to see Charles Devereux looking up at her with a tray of canapes in his hands. Florence smiled at the boy. How sweet he looked in his grey pullover, white shirt and tie and neatly combed hair. ‘If you promise to call me Florence,’ she said, ‘I might just try one of those tasty looking sausage rolls. Do you think you can do that?’
He nodded and after she had helped herself, he offered the tray to Billy. ‘Our new cook, Mrs Grundy, says that seeing as God gave us two hands, it’s always better to take two of anything.’
Billy laughed. ‘One for each hand; I like Mrs Grundy’s thinking!’
‘How are you liking your new school in the village?’ asked Florence.
The boy’s face lit up with the sunniest of smiles. ‘It’s great and a lot more fun than my stuffy old school. Best of all I can walk there and back and stay here with Mummy the whole time.’
‘And have you made some nice friends?’
‘Yes, Mrs Min . . . I mean . . . Florence. Some of us are going sledging tomorrow and then we’re going to build the biggest snowman ever.’
‘You’ll have no shortage of snow, and that’s a fact,’ said Billy through a mouthful of flaky pastry. ‘And you can tell Mrs Grundy that Billy Minton says her sausage rolls are delicious.’
‘That’s a rare word of praise from my husband’s lips,’ said Florence, ‘so be sure to tell her, won’t you?’
‘I will. If you’ll excuse me, I’d better serve some of the other guests.’
They were watching him go over to where Evelyn and Kit were chatting with Ralph and Annelise when the boy’s mother appeared. Her hair nicely coiffed and wearing a navy blue slim-fitting, above-the-knee dress of fine wool with a matching cardigan draped over her shoulders, she looked elegant and poised. Remembering the dowdy shapeless dress she had worn to the party at Meadow Lodge back in October, and how awkward she had been that night, Florence was amazed at the change in her.
‘I’m so pleased you both came,’ she said graciously, looking and sounding like the perfect hostess.
‘It was very kind of you to invite us,’ said Florence. ‘Happy Birthday to you.’
‘Thank you. I hope people won’t think it very odd having a party like this when Arthur is . . . well . . . given the situation, but Ralph wouldn’t hear of not celebrating my birthday in style. I only agreed on the basis that everyone from the village was invited so I could thank them for their kindness these last few weeks.’
‘Which was very thoughtful of you,’ said Florence, thinking that Julia wasn’t so much changed as completely transformed. ‘We’ve just been chatting to your son,’ she then said. ‘What a charming and polite boy he is. You must be so proud of him.’
Julia smiled, her eyes searching for Charles in the crowd of guests. ‘He insisted he helped,’ she said, ‘even though we have plenty of waitresses the agency sent us.’
‘Is that where you found Mrs Grundy, your new cook? Charles mentioned her to us.’
‘Yes, she’s marvellous, and with any luck the agency will find a new housekeeper for me as well.’ Julia gave a short unexpected laugh. ‘A woman who doesn’t have designs on being mistress of Melstead Hall, or one who enjoys concocting horrid letters.’
Surprised that Julia could joke in such a manner, Florence said, ‘A number of us in the village owe you a debt of gratitude for discovering what Miss Casey was up to.’
‘I didn’t do anything particularly clever, I merely stumbled across the evidence quite by accident.’
‘However you did it, we’re all very glad you did, Mrs Devereux,’ joined in Billy.
‘Do please call me Julia. I hate everyone being so formal with me.’
‘That was more or less what I said to Charles,’ said Florence. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all. I’m just so happy that he now has the opportunity to get to know people here properly. This has always been his home, but until now it hasn’t really felt that way for him. Which probably sounds peculiar, but that’s the truth of the matter. Arthur didn’t like for us to . . . ’ she hesitated and fiddled with the string of pearls around her neck. ‘He didn’t like to share us with anyone else.’
‘How is Mr Devereux?’ asked Florence, noting that Julia had referred to him in the past tense.
‘Not good, I’m afraid. Ralph and I have been told to prepare for the worst, that the end is sooner rather than later. His heart is just so very weak.’
What heart? Florence was tempted to ask. Instead she asked how much longer Ralph would be staying.
‘He’ll be here for a few more weeks, which will be a great help to me . . . particularly,’ she lowered her voice, ‘if there’s a funeral to arrange.’