room-a billiard table blanketed in shadow at the other end of the room from the seating area, an oversized desk that enhanced the professorial atmosphere, and of course the library ladder suggesting either an urge to dust or search behind the highest tomes for a hidden safe.
Georges did not acknowledge my arrival, none of the crew gave me a glance, but before I could turn tail, Mrs. Malloy beckoned me toward the leather sofa she was seated upon with Livonia Mayberry and Judy Nunn, both of whom beamed at me. Three other women took up another even longer sofa: a buxom blonde giving vent to hearty laughter and one with an attractively untidy mass of red hair drawn up on top of her head, talking animatedly over the blonde to the mousy woman of indeterminate age. Something about flying cutlery. Hoping Mrs. Malloy had not been the source, I joined them in the hesitant manner of a schoolgirl walking into class ten minutes late, sat on a faded tapestry chair, and braced myself to embark on an explanation of why I was intruding.
“And about time, too, Mrs. H,” Mrs. Malloy shot across at me, cutting into the blonde’s continuing saga. “I’d about given up on you. And tea, like Christmas, is still a long time coming.” She was looking fiercely overdressed in her forest green taffeta, especially compared to Judy Nunn, who had shed the hiking jacket but had not otherwise changed her attire, which, with mud stains added to the knees of her slacks, had acquired the look of gardening clothes kept on a rusty hook in the potting shed.
I started to explain to the newcomers who I was, but the buxom blonde cut me off with an impatient chuckle.
“I’m Wanda Smiley and we all understand why you’re joining us, Mrs. Haskell. Monsieur LeBois gave us the explanation. Quite a long one, but then he is in the entertainment business.” A look round to see how much responsive amusement this had achieved. “Though why we need an interior decorator to tell us how to brighten up Mucklesfeld, I’m sure I don’t know, when all it needs is a good spring cleaning. But as he said, you do happen to be here, along with your husband and Roxie there.” No bothering to look at Mrs. Malloy, therefore missing the glower. “And now where was I? Ah, yes, such a laugh you’ll all get out of this one. I’d gone to buy a new bra and decided to get a good fitting, seeing I need all the support I can get, given my generous proportions.” She made the mistake of pausing to look smugly down.
“I’m so glad you’re staying, Ellie,” Livonia leaned eagerly toward me, “and after being ready to bolt off like a rabbit, I’m glad I’m here, too.” If the room had any glow at all, it came from the shine in her blue eyes. My goodness! I thought. What or who could be responsible for the stunning change? Did I need three guesses, or just two? Lord Belfrey or Dr. Tommy Rowley? Either way, she had gone in the flash of a few hours from mildly pretty to extremely so. “And, will you believe it, this lady,” casting her radiance on the mousy-looking woman, “is Mrs. Knox’s daughter. I never knew she had one, but here she is-Molly Duggan. You remember I told you about Mrs. Knox?”
“The next-door neighbor.”
“And so horribly shocked to find out I’d entered
There was absolutely nothing wrong with mousy Molly’s looks and nothing right with them, either, seeing she had left it all up to Mother Nature, who hadn’t been forthcoming with a mascara wand, a lipstick, or, given that sad frizz, a comb.
“That’s nothing to what she’ll have to say when she finds out I did the same.” She peeked a nervous look around the circle. “I’ve always been a disappointment to her. It’s why she doesn’t talk about me and hardly ever comes to see me at my bed-sitter. She’s ashamed that I work the checkout at the supermarket she used to go to. Until now, my highest ambition was to be moved to the seafood department, but then this came along and I pictured the look on Mum’s face if I got to marry a lord. But after what happened at lunch when that giant fork came at me…” She sat gulping.
“One in the eye for the old bat you marrying into the aristocracy, eh!” The woman with the red hair-who had by default to be Alice Jones-grabbed the chance to speak. “You should have heard how my parents both carried on when I joined a commune at age nineteen.”
“Hurts to crane your neck back that far, I’m sure.” Mrs. Malloy tempered this comment with a chuckle that to me was clearly imitative of the blonde Wanda Smiley, and my heart sank. Unless reined in, my friend was going get herself soundly disliked by the rest of the group, as Georges had predicted. But how to save her from herself without putting her in the corner or telling her no sweets for a week?
“Did you live off the earth at the commune, Alice?” Judy asked with her pleasant smile. “Grow all your own vegetables, peat fires, that sort of thing?”
“Did you weave your own clothes?” Livonia emerged from a dreamy-eyed reverie. “I’ve always thought that would be so romantic.”
“Looks like she still does.” I thought it, Mrs. Malloy said it.
Alice eyed her questioningly, before judiciously deciding to assume a compliment. “To be completely up- front…”
“Oh, do by all means set an example.”
Really, I sighed, Nanny was going to have to get very cross indeed if this kept up.
Undeterred, Alice proceeded. “I haven’t touched a loom in years, but as it happens I was thinking on the drive here that I could put my skills to use weaving blankets for all the bedrooms. I also hook rugs and make slipcovers-I put that down on my application and I have to assume it helped in my being chosen.”
Wanda Smiley got her mouth open, but Mrs. Malloy was too quick off the mark. “You were another link in the chain, Alice, that was your selling feature…”
“Previously knowing which of the contestants?” I asked brightly, having caught a look from Georges that said I wasn’t doing much of a job controlling my charges.
“Me.” The word came out in a squeak. Molly Duggan, daughter of the odious Mrs. Knox, looked and now sounded like a mouse peeking out of a hole. “Alice shops in the supermarket where I work.”
“And,” said the thus named, “Wanda comes in quite regularly to the health food cafe where I waitress.”
“Not that I’m keen on tofu burgers or seaweed omelets.” The oar was eagerly grabbed by the blonde, not relishing the sidelines. “But they do serve a decent cappuccino and a rather scrumptious blackberry and apple crumble-the sort Mother never used to make. As I said to the saleswoman when I went in to buy myself those new bras, I never worry about what I eat because I always put it on in the right places!”
“Same here! Shame we can’t all be as lucky!” Mrs. Malloy slunk a look at Judy, who crossed her legs, clasped her knees, and remarked that she thought she heard the distant rattle of a tea cart. It was Livonia and Molly Duggan who looked uncomfortable.
“Into the changing room we went-me and the fitter-and out came her tape measure-you could tell from looking at her she’d only half a brain. But even so, I almost dropped from shock when she told me I was a size twenty- four-round the bust mind you, not my thigh! Me of all people! The Jayne Mansfield of my school! Of course she was before my time, but anyway, it turned out the silly woman had the tape measure round the wrong way…”
Laughter in varying degrees of amusement, save from Mrs. Malloy.
A sudden flare of camera lights nearly blinded me. In looking away, my eyes veered upward to the portrait gallery to fasten on the painted images of a sternly bewhiskered gentleman in a frock coat, a stout matron in a crinoline, and a woman in a tall white wig and the satins and lace of Versailles’s glory days. Ruminating on her sour expression must have caused me to miss Georges’s call for
“You were saying, Mrs. Haskell,” Judy kindly cued me in.
“So exciting to be part of
“Well, I’ve got to say, as lunch had its moments! And I’m not talking about the food, although it wasn’t to be sneezed at-Mr. H being in top form. It was when the lid of the canteen opened all by itself and the cutlery flew up in the air that I said to meself this is a bit of all right. ’Course I see some of the others was petrified! But that’s people being different.” Smug-faced self-approbation. “Like I always say, after battling the world on me own, there’s not much as will give me the willies. And anyway I wasn’t a hundred percent convinced it was the Mucklesfeld poltergeist or what have you pulling a stunt.”
“Special effects,” voiced Judy sensibly.
“But how?” Molly stirred nervously.
