Christiane looked for other sport, gleefully making for Doreen and Vic Buchan.
‘Evening, dear,’ she greeted Doreen with a fond smile, receiving only a gasp in reply, as Christiane parked expertly alongside her. Vic nodded politely and offered to fetch them all a glass of wine.
Christiane patted her victim’s hand. ‘This is cosy, isn’t it, dear? I was just talking to Matron, saying how cosy it is and she agreed. “It’s not an institution,” she told me.’
There was no answer. Doreen had withdrawn into herself, clutching at her handbag.
‘Of course, dear, you’d know all about what an institution looks like, wouldn’t you? What does your husband think about it all? Didn’t he mind?’ Her eyes gleamed as the frightened rabbit twitched. ‘Don’t mind me, dear; I mean no harm, you know. It’s just that somehow, people have always told me theirlittle secrets and I do have an excellent memory. You’d be surprised how easy it is to make connections sometimes.’ She paused, then smiled. ‘You
did
tell your husband all about it, didn’t you, dear? When you got married?’ Her concerned expression would have been an Oscar contender. ‘I mean about your mother and what she did. Where she went?’
It was immensely satisfying to hear Doreen Buchan groan, to see her writhe, to have her turn tortured eyes on her tormentor.
‘Leave me alone,’ she gritted, fumbling at the arm of her chair. ‘Leave me alone, I
hate
you. I could
kill
you.’
She stumbled into the darkened dining-room just as Vic appeared carefully toting three brimming glasses.
‘Where’s Dor then?’ he looked mildly surprised.
‘She’s just gone for a breath of air,’ Christiane reassured him as she accepted her drink. ‘It’s getting a bit close in here.’
Lurking by the kitchen door and hoping to waylay Neil, her insider in the band, to warn him to pick his victims carefully, Harriet was surprised when, alerted by a slight movement in the scullery, she spotted Gemma fiddling with the outer door, looking flushed and guilty. Just then the seven members of the Oompah Band appeared and Neil, nattily clad in lederhosen, embroidered shirt, wide braces and dapper feathered hat, paused for a quick word.
‘Don’t worry, Old Hat,’ he reassured her, grinning as she frowned at his use of Sam’s nickname for her. ‘Alice warned me already. I know who can take it and which ones to avoid.’ Appeased, she let him shoo her back to the audience as the band struck up an Oompah rhythm and marched into the hall, round the room and up the stairs to the minstrels’ gallery. As they took their places the door to the outer lobby opened a crack and Alice Marchant slipped in, tiptoeing shyly to the empty chair beside her mother.
‘
You
!’ shrieked the band leader, pointing an accusing finger. ‘Vot do you sink you are doink? Vy are you being so late?’
Startled, Alice lifted a blushing face towards the band and caught Neil’s eye. At his reassuring wink she smiled and sat down, hoping the band leader would move on to other prey.
‘Ve vill not vait for you again,’ he threatened her, however. ‘I sink you shall pay for zis, by giving me a big, sloppy kiss und gettink me a drink in ze interval,
mein fraulein
!’
Alice smiled and nodded, thankful to get off lightly but amused none the less, and the band played on, interspersing their pieces with a non-stop series of gags, sketches and slapstick, neatly treading the thin line between comedy and abuse, offending nobody and sending them off into fits of laughter.
Outwardly docile, sitting demurely beside her mother, Alice was enveloped in a glow of remembered bliss. Nothing can touch me now she thought; nothing can hurt me, not after last night. It had come as such a surprise. She had known Neil liked her as a colleague and, lately, as a friend, and she had helplessly recognized that her own feeling for him came close to idolatry as the one person in the world who had seen her as a
‘Evening, dear,’ she greeted Doreen with a fond smile, receiving only a gasp in reply, as Christiane parked expertly alongside her. Vic nodded politely and offered to fetch them all a glass of wine.
Christiane patted her victim’s hand. ‘This is cosy, isn’t it, dear? I was just talking to Matron, saying how cosy it is and she agreed. “It’s not an institution,” she told me.’
There was no answer. Doreen had withdrawn into herself, clutching at her handbag.
‘Of course, dear, you’d know all about what an institution looks like, wouldn’t you? What does your husband think about it all? Didn’t he mind?’ Her eyes gleamed as the frightened rabbit twitched. ‘Don’t mind me, dear; I mean no harm, you know. It’s just that somehow, people have always told me theirlittle secrets and I do have an excellent memory. You’d be surprised how easy it is to make connections sometimes.’ She paused, then smiled. ‘You
did
tell your husband all about it, didn’t you, dear? When you got married?’ Her concerned expression would have been an Oscar contender. ‘I mean about your mother and what she did. Where she went?’
It was immensely satisfying to hear Doreen Buchan groan, to see her writhe, to have her turn tortured eyes on her tormentor.
‘Leave me alone,’ she gritted, fumbling at the arm of her chair. ‘Leave me alone, I
hate
you. I could
kill
you.’
She stumbled into the darkened dining-room just as Vic appeared carefully toting three brimming glasses.
‘Where’s Dor then?’ he looked mildly surprised.
‘She’s just gone for a breath of air,’ Christiane reassured him as she accepted her drink. ‘It’s getting a bit close in here.’
Lurking by the kitchen door and hoping to waylay Neil, her insider in the band, to warn him to pick his victims carefully, Harriet was surprised when, alerted by a slight movement in the scullery, she spotted Gemma fiddling with the outer door, looking flushed and guilty. Just then the seven members of the Oompah Band appeared and Neil, nattily clad in lederhosen, embroidered shirt, wide braces and dapper feathered hat, paused for a quick word.
‘Don’t worry, Old Hat,’ he reassured her, grinning as she frowned at his use of Sam’s nickname for her. ‘Alice warned me already. I know who can take it and which ones to avoid.’ Appeased, she let him shoo her back to the audience as the band struck up an Oompah rhythm and marched into the hall, round the room and up the stairs to the minstrels’ gallery. As they took their places the door to the outer lobby opened a crack and Alice Marchant slipped in, tiptoeing shyly to the empty chair beside her mother.
‘
You
!’ shrieked the band leader, pointing an accusing finger. ‘Vot do you sink you are doink? Vy are you being so late?’
Startled, Alice lifted a blushing face towards the band and caught Neil’s eye. At his reassuring wink she smiled and sat down, hoping the band leader would move on to other prey.
‘Ve vill not vait for you again,’ he threatened her, however. ‘I sink you shall pay for zis, by giving me a big, sloppy kiss und gettink me a drink in ze interval,
mein fraulein
!’
Alice smiled and nodded, thankful to get off lightly but amused none the less, and the band played on, interspersing their pieces with a non-stop series of gags, sketches and slapstick, neatly treading the thin line between comedy and abuse, offending nobody and sending them off into fits of laughter.
Outwardly docile, sitting demurely beside her mother, Alice was enveloped in a glow of remembered bliss. Nothing can touch me now she thought; nothing can hurt me, not after last night. It had come as such a surprise. She had known Neil liked her as a colleague and, lately, as a friend, and she had helplessly recognized that her own feeling for him came close to idolatry as the one person in the world who had seen her as a
Similar Books
