“No need for that,” said the colonel. “You’re one of the family.”
Charlie was once more taken aback by the beauty that was Priscilla. From the perfect bell of her golden hair to her slim figure dressed in a mid-blue trouser suit that matched her eyes, he thought she looked stunning.
“You’re busy,” said Charlie, looking round the crowded dining room.
“I hope I haven’t made a mistake,” said Priscilla. “There’s probably going to be a sighting of the northern lights this evening, so I put it on the website and people came rushing up. If nothing happens, I hope they don’t ask for their money back.”
Charlie suddenly noticed that Priscilla was wearing an engagement ring. “It looks as if congratulations are in order,” he said. “Who’s the lucky fellow?”
“Probably another waste of space,” muttered her father.
“It’s an old friend of the family,” said Mrs. Halburton-Smythe. “Harold Fox-Enderby.”
“He’s too old,” growled the colonel.
“Can I get a word in here?” demanded Priscilla. “He’ll be joining us soon, Charlie. I met him in London. He’s a stockbroker for a firm I used to do computer work for.”
I wonder how Hamish will take this news, thought Charlie. I wonder if he ever really got over her.
The dining room began to clear, and soon huddled-up figures appeared on the terrace outside the long windows.
“I hope I haven’t made a terrible mistake,” said Priscilla.
“About your engagement?” asked Charlie.
“No, of course not! I meant the aurora borealis. I wish now I had employed some technician from the film industry to fake it for me.”
Suddenly there was a great cheer from the terrace, the waiters switched off the lights in the dining room, and the great, swirling spectacle of the northern lights filled the room with greenish light.
“Hullo there!” called a voice. Charlie looked up. A burly middle-aged man was bending over to kiss Priscilla on the cheek.
“Harold,” said Priscilla, “meet my parents. And Charlie Carter, a friend of the family.”
What on earth does she see in him? marvelled Charlie. He’s too old for her.
Harold had a sallow, pugnacious face with designer stubble. He had small eyes and a fleshy nose and large thick lips. His shirt was open at the neck, displaying tufts of hair.
“What’s all this?” he asked. “Son et lumière?”
“No, it’s the aurora borealis,” said Charlie.
“Can we get you something to eat?” asked the colonel.
“No, I had something on the road up. I’ll have a coffee.” He sat down next to Priscilla and put an arm around her shoulders.
“And how is your dear mother?” asked Mrs. Halburton-Smythe.
“Lost her wits. She’s in a home.”
“Oh, dear. Poor Bertha. How awful.”
“Happens to all of us, some time or another,” said Harold. “Mind you, the home costs a mint. Daylight robbery. I can see my inheritance going down the tubes with every day that passes.”
“Is your father dead?” asked Charlie.
“Yes, broke his neck on the hunting field ten years ago. What a godforsaken part of the country this is. Miles and miles of nothingness.”
The lights came on again in the dining room. But it was as if a shadow had crossed Priscilla’s face. “You’ll see more of it tomorrow,” she said. “It is very beautiful.”
Charlie stifled a yawn. “If you folk will forgive me, I’ve had a hard day and I’d like to get to bed.”
The colonel rose to his feet. “I’ll see you downstairs, Charlie.”
No sooner were they in Charlie’s flat than the colonel started. “Why did she choose that ape? He’s been married before.”
“Divorce?”
“No, fell downstairs and broke her neck. I bet he pushed her,” said the colonel viciously. “I’ve never believed psychiatrists to be any good, but I wish now I’d sent her to one after that episode.”
“What episode?” asked Charlie.
“Never mind. Long time ago. What about a dram?”
“I’ll make up the fire,” said Charlie.
“Don’t need to. The central heating works down here.”
“George, I like a fire,” said Charlie stubbornly. The fire was set and ready to light. He struck a match, lit it, and then got out a bottle of whisky and two glasses.
The colonel settled back in an armchair. “Would you like to earn a bit o’ money, Charlie?”
“If you want me to do something for you, I’ll do it for nothing,” said Charlie.
“This is serious stuff. I want you to get rid of Harold.”
“Kill him?”
“No, no. Cut him out with Priscilla. You’re a good-looking fellow. Pitch in there!”
“How long is your daughter up here for?” asked Charlie.
“Just a couple of days.”
“Even if I wanted to, I couldnae romance any lassie in two days. Priscilla has been engaged before and I don’t mean just to Hamish.”
“Never came to anything.”
“So,” said Charlie, “I’ll bet you this one will fizzle out.”