After breakfast the next day, I browned off the pheasant legs in a large cast-iron pot before adding berries, herbs and some red wine, which I hoped would simmer down to create a luscious sauce. Then I wrapped the breasts in bacon and set them aside for baking later. Rory sat painting at the kitchen table and we worked peacefully together as I began rolling out the pastry for a fruit pie. I’d watched CeCe paint hundreds of times, but her art tended to be very precise, whereas Rory mixed the watercolours to the shade he required, then sloshed them on with abandon. As I put the pie into the range, I saw he’d produced an autumnal landscape that I wouldn’t be able to replicate if I had months to do so.
‘Amazing,’ I said as he signed his name on the painting, and I noticed how his hand formed the letters clumsily, in direct contrast to his flowing brushstrokes.
‘I like painting.’
‘We all like things we’re good at,’ I said with a smile.
Orlando had gone out earlier that morning. He hadn’t said where, but I had the feeling he was not looking forward to it. He arrived back with Mouse in tow just as I was mashing the potatoes.
‘Look.’ Rory indicated his painting. ‘For Star.’
Orlando dutifully praised it while Mouse merely swept a cursory glance over it.
‘What say you I fetch the bottle of Vacqueyras I’ve decanted to complement Star’s pheasant?’ Orlando said to no one in particular, as he headed to the pantry to retrieve the wine.
‘Did you read my transcription?’ Mouse asked me abruptly.
‘Yes, I did, thank you.’ I indicated the neat pile of paper beside the telephone.
‘Find it informative?’
‘Very.’
‘I’d like to see that figurine if you have it.’
‘Actually, I didn’t bring it with me after all,’ I lied, hoping my face wasn’t turning red, as it usually did when I told an untruth.
‘That’s a shame. Orlando thinks it’s a Fabergé.’
‘I’ll have another look for it before I leave.’
‘You do that.’
The telephone rang and Mouse reached for the receiver.
‘Hi, Marguerite. Yes, everything’s fine here. He’s fine too, aren’t you, Rory?’
‘Yes!’ Rory shouted so his mother could hear. ‘Fine.’
‘What time are you due back?’
I busied myself at the range so as not to look as though I was listening.
‘I see. Well, I certainly can’t do it, but I’ll ask Orlando and Star if they can. Orlando?’
‘Yes?’ He’d appeared from the pantry with the wine.
‘Marguerite’s been asked to stay on longer in France. She wants to know if you and Star can spare a few more days here to look after Rory.’
‘Sadly, that is an impossibility. I have two major auctions coming up in London, which I must attend. What about you, Mouse?’
‘Hardly. You know what I have on at the farm at the moment. Besides, Rory’s on half term and . . .’
My eyes fell on Rory, who was sitting in the middle of the two brothers, turning his head from side to side as they conducted their verbal tennis match. And probably feeling of little more importance than the metaphoric ball they were batting between them.
‘I’ll do it,’ I said suddenly. ‘I mean, if you can manage without me at the shop, Orlando.’
‘I can think about it, certainly.’
Rory patted Orlando’s hands and signed vigorously. ‘Yes, please let Star stay! Good food!’ There was a momentary silence as the brothers’ dual gazes fell on me.
‘Given the dearth of customers in the bookshop, she probably has nothing more taxing to do than dust,’ said Mouse.
My hackles rose at this comment, but I fought to control myself. I could see Orlando was doing the same.
‘Of course, the most important thing is that Rory is happy,’ he said eventually.
‘Right then, did you hear any of that, Marguerite? Star will stay on and Rory’s happy with the arrangement,’ Mouse said into the receiver. ‘I’ll be around to keep an eye out. Let us know what time you’re back on Wednesday, will you? Okay, bye now.’
‘Food’s ready,’ I said to Orlando, who had poured a glass of wine for all of us.
‘Wonderful. We’ll eat in here, shall we? And I . . . we’ – Orlando glanced at his brother – ‘are awfully grateful for your offer.’
‘No problem,’ I replied as I turned back to the range.
After the lunch, which – even though I say so myself – was something of a triumph, given I had never tackled pheasant before, Orlando was taken off to Ashford in Mouse’s Land Rover to catch the London train. The froideur between the brothers was obvious, and I presumed it was to do with their earlier meeting, and the conversation with Marguerite.
Mouse had said he would return to say goodnight to Rory, but the clock passed eight and there was no sign of him. I dragged Rory away from his Superman movie, bathed him and put him to bed.
Back in my own room, I searched in my rucksack for Pa Salt’s letter and the black cat. I studied the little creature carefully, remembering Flora’s vivid descriptions of ‘Panther’.
‘Is this you?’ I asked the ether, and, receiving no reply, stowed it away again. If it was a Fabergé, as Mouse had suggested, I knew it was of great value. Perhaps Mrs Keppel, who had also delighted in Fabergé’s creations, had given the cat to Flora as a gift . . .
There was only one way to find out, and that was to show the Sewer Rat . . . Mouse, I corrected myself. My own pet name of his pet name could not under any circumstances slip out.
I went to the bathroom and dipped myself as fast as I could in the bath full of bubbles I’d recently poured for Rory, having learnt last night that the hot water tank only ran to one tubful a day. Then I hurried to the bedroom to put on my layers before going downstairs.
I hovered by the front door, wondering if I should lock up for the night, when a figure appeared out of the gloom behind me, making me cry out in shock.
‘Only me,’ said Mouse. ‘I let myself in through the back door while you were upstairs. I just wanted to give you these.’ He held out two enormous brass keys on a ring.
‘Thanks.’
‘And thank you for doing this. It’s obvious Rory has taken to you already. Marguerite says she’ll call tomorrow. It’s most unlike her to agree to stay on. Something must be up,’ he muttered. ‘She normally works locally, so that she can at least get home for Rory in the evening. But it seems her fame has spread. Anyway, you’ll need some supplies to keep you going for the next few days. If you can write me a list, I’ll swing by tomorrow morning for it. It’ll be early, though.’
‘No problem,’ I replied. ‘Would you mind if I use the telephone to let my sister know I won’t be back tonight? My mobile doesn’t work here.’