‘If you want to leave,’ said Pru heroically, sensing her discomfort, ‘we can.’
Liza wanted to. The trouble was, she wanted to sample the puddings more.
‘Is he still looking over?’
‘Well, kind of.’
‘That means yes.’
‘He’s standing up,’ Pru murmured, watching covertly as he pushed back his chair.
‘Hell’s bells—’
‘It’s okay, he’s gone through that door again, the one marked Private.’
He was away for some time. When the door finally reopened, Liza had just taken her first mouthful of almond and apricot tart. Pm, who had chosen the honey ice cream, was so carried away by its miraculous taste and texture that her eyes were closed.
‘You don’t mind if I join you for a moment,’ said Kit Berenger, pulling out the empty chair next to Pru.
Liza wondered briefly if it was worth putting on a German accent. If he challenged her, she could simply deny everything, say she didn’t know vot he was tocking about.
But really, was there any point?
She wondered instead if Kit Berenger was about to rip her wig off. It wouldn’t be a pretty sight if he did; she was wearing an Ena Sharples hairnet underneath.
He didn’t. He looked hard at her for several seconds. Then with his index finger he tapped the dark-blue linen tablecloth, less than an inch from Liza’s wrist.
‘Very good, but that was the giveaway.’
Pru stared at the tablecloth. Heavens, was there a microphone hidden beneath it? Was the table bugged?
‘I heard you laughing. When I turned round I couldn’t see your face.’ He tapped again. ‘But I saw this.’
She had always worn her watch, a man’s steel Longines, on her right hand. On her little finger she wore a narrow platinum ring. Liza was so impressed by his powers of observation she almost smiled. Maybe this is it, she thought, my chance to apologise and make amends, to tell him what a terrific meal we’re having .. .
‘I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing back here,’ Kit Berenger went on icily, ‘but you certainly aren’t wanted. So I suggest you leave, this minute.’
‘Now look—’
‘Haven’t you done enough damage?’ he demanded, hissing the words across the table like poison darts. ‘Haven’t you already hurt Nicky enough?’
Liza flinched. Mortified, Pru stared down at her melting ice cream.
‘This restaurant doesn’t need customers like you,’ said Kit Berenger, standing up. ‘Come on, out.
And don’t start bleating about the bill because we don’t want your money either.’
‘Have you told your cousin who I am?’ asked Liza, feeling sick. So much for making amends.
‘Are you mad? Why do you suppose I want you out of here?’
‘You’re making a scene.’
‘I am not. I’m getting rid of you before I make a scene. Because if I did,’ Kit Berenger spoke through gritted teeth, ‘I promise you, it’d be a bigger one than this.’
Chapter 15
Eddie Hammond’s frighteningly efficient secretary had left the computer print-out of last month’s renewed memberships on his desk, together with an updated list of applications to join the club. This list was growing, which was a good sign. Since taking over the running of Brunton Manor last November Eddie had worked hard to raise the club’s public profile.
Only three people hadn’t renewed their lapsed memberships. He flicked the edge of the print-out with his thumb, to jog his memory. The Turner girl had got married and moved to Oxford.
Well, it was a reasonable excuse.
R. Cooper-Clark had emigrated last month to work as a flying doctor in the Australian outback.
Which was an improvement. This was what Eddie called a good excuse.
The third name on the list was P. Kasteliz.
So, Eddie wondered idly, what’s yours?
He found Dulcie indulging in her favourite pastime, swinging her legs on a stool in the bar and flirting outrageously with the captain of the local cricket club. The cricketer, who hadn’t been married long, looked relieved to make his escape.
‘You’re always working,’ Dulcie protested, eyeing Eddie’s crumpled grey suit and loosened tie.
‘You never have any fun.’ She pulled a face, remembering why the words sounded so familiar.
‘That’s what I used to tell Patrick. Eddie, how old are you?’
‘Forty-five. Too old to have fun,’ he said, humouring her.
Dulcie gave him a told-you-so look.
‘You men, all the same. And then you wonder why you end up on your own. I mean, you were married once, weren’t you?’ Eddie nodded.
‘Did you work non-stop?’
