The next day saw no end to the storm, only brief interludes when we would look out of the windows and optimistically suggest that it might finally be over. The resumption of meteorological hostilities was met with weary resignation and we returned to our moping.
Although there was no less to do about the house, somehow being trapped indoors made time hang heavy and I looked for ever more industrious ways of passing it. Things were tidied, mended, cleaned and polished whether they needed it or not, and cake production reached an almost industrial level.
Lady Hardcastle came into the kitchen to cadge a cup of tea. ‘Are we opening a cake shop, pet?’ she asked when she saw what was cooling on every available surface.
‘I got a bit bored, my lady,’ I said, piping some whipped cream into a choux bun.
‘So it would appear,’ she said. ‘Let’s hope someone drops in unexpectedly for tea. Several people.’
‘We’ll get through it, my lady. Be brave.’
‘Woman cannot live by cake alone, Flo.’
‘I can give it a bloomin’ good try.’
‘Are we being fed tonight?’ she asked.
‘At the pub?’ I said. ‘There was talk of a tray of sandwiches, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. Joe does his best, but he’d not be well reviewed in the society pages for the soaring quality of his cuisine.’
‘So perhaps we should eat a decent lunch?’
‘I am, as is so often the case in matters domestic, at least one step ahead of you,’ I said. ‘If my lady would care to ready herself for luncheon, I have prepared a delicious pie.’
‘A pie?’ she said, her eyes brightening. ‘You do make excellent pies. What’s in the pie, ma petite patissière?’
‘Something inspired by your most recent triumph,’ I said. ‘La tourte au boeuf et aux champignons, à la Meule de foin.’
‘Wait a minute,’ she said. ‘I’ll work it out… Beef and mushroom pie… la meule de foin… Oh, you clever old stick. Haystack. Hayrick. The Hayrick’s Beef and Mushroom Pie.’
‘It’ll be ready in half an hour, my lady.’
‘If you poison me with it, I’m bally well coming back to haunt you,’ she said as she turned to leave.
‘I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.’
‘I’ll make an exception for you, pet,’ she called from the hall.
We enjoyed lunch together in the dining room and neither of us died (though there was still plenty of time, obviously). Lady Hardcastle was trying to teach me to draw, so we spent an entertainingly silly afternoon trying to sketch each other. It was becoming clear that I was no artist, but with only two of us in the house to eat them, there were only so many cakes that could sensibly be cooked so it was a fun use of our time.
Tea came and went (and we made a reasonable dent in the cake supply) and it was eventually time to get ready for our evening at The Dog and Duck. A séance works best in the dead of night when the spirits are abroad, so it was actually quite late by the time we left and I was realized that I was no longer concerned about the quality of Joe’s sandwiches – I would happily eat anything.
We had been granted us a brief respite from the viciousness of the storms and we walked into the village through what seemed, by comparison, a very pleasant gusty drizzle. By the time we reached the door of The Dog and Duck less than ten minutes later, we were wet through, but somehow it still seemed less disagreeable than having battled through the tempest.
I tried the door but it was locked and I was forced to hammer upon it quite vigorously before we heard the bolts being drawn on the other side.
‘Welcome to The Dog and Duck, ladies,’ said Daisy Spratt as she opened the door. ‘Please join us.’ She was wearing a long, black, old fashioned dress that I’d not seen before and had adopted a breathy, would-be mysterious tone which I thought fitted the mood of the evening perfectly.
Lady Hardcastle attempted to suppress a smirk. I gave her my most threatening stare as we walked in, just to make sure she knew to behave herself, but that just made her laugh.
The tables and chairs in the public bar had been pushed against the walls, and a large circular table now filled the centre of the room where the other guests were already seated. The room was lit only by a lamp in the centre of the table. The rest of the guests looked up at us through the gloom as we took off our coats.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Lady Hardcastle, hanging up her hat. ‘We seem to be the last to arrive. I do hope we haven’t kept everybody waiting too long.’
There was a cheerful murmur of assurance from the small group.
‘Madame Eugénie isn’t quite ready yet,’ said Daisy, ‘so we were just having a little tipple and a gossip. Come and sit down; I’ve put you on that side of the table, either side of Madame Eugénie. I hope that’ll be all right. Can I get you a drink?’
‘Brandy for me, please,’ said Lady Hardcastle, enthusiastically.
‘And for me, please,’ I said. ‘That would be lovely.’
We sat in our allotted places while Daisy poured two generous measures of brandy behind the bar.
‘I think we all know each other,’ she said as she came back to the table and handed us our drinks. She moved to her own chair and sat down. ‘Let’s see,’ she said. ‘Lady Hardcastle most of you know. Then there’s Mr Snelson.’
The smartly dressed man to Lady Hardcastle’s right inclined his head in greeting.
‘Our Ma, I think you knows her an’ all.’
Mrs Spratt smiled self-consciously.
‘Mr Holman from the baker’s. I’m Daisy, as I reckon you knows. Dr Fitzsimmons everyone knows. And then Miss Armstrong who works for Lady Hardcastle.’
I nodded my own greeting. I knew, or at least knew of, everyone there except Mr Snelson. He had moved to the village shortly after Christmas, but with Lady Hardcastle being on the sick list all winter we’d not had the opportunity to pay him a welcoming visit. We’d heard talk of his having retired from a business in Gloucester, but we didn’t have any details.
There was a momentary flutter of excitement when the door to the back room opened, but it was just the landlord, Joe Arnold, bearing the promised tray of sandwiches.
‘I’ll just leave these on the bar,’ he said, toothlessly.
‘Not joining us, Joe?’ asked Lady Hardcastle with a grin.
‘No, m’lady. T’i’n’t right, messin’ with t’other side.’ He gave a little shudder. ‘I’ll just provide the refreshment and keep out of the way if you don’t mind.’
And pocket a decent slice of the entrance money, too, I entirely failed to say out loud.