As homespun wisdom went, I’d heard better. Still, it was an interesting theory. “Did she have any luck?”
“We weren’t that close. I follow her on Instagram.”
We chatted a little more about former friends, and she said, “Do you still keep in touch with Todd?”
I tried to sound airy as I told her that I didn’t. I didn’t want to know what Todd the Toad was up to, but Sarah wasn’t the kind of person who picked up on subtle nuances, and she happily proceeded to tell me that Todd was back with Monica and she’d heard they were planning to get engaged.
I didn’t wish the pair harm, but it did irk me that he was thinking of marrying the woman he’d cheated on me with. But then, maybe all that meant was that they were truly meant for each other. And that evolved, zen-master thought lasted about a second before I decided that all it meant was that two slimy cheaters deserved each other.
After we’d said goodbye and “let’s do this again soon,” I went to Pamela’s Instagram account. I hated doing it. I wouldn’t have wanted to keep up with her curated version of herself in life, and it was even worse in death. I scrolled and looked and read the short captions. Pam’s Instagram was like the “here’s what the young and beautiful are doing” section of a high-end glossy magazine. She looked stunning in every photo, of course, and she was always pictured with people as polished and connected as she wanted to be. Here she was at Henley Regatta and on Ladies Day at Ascot in one of those hats that looked like a flying saucer had landed on her head.
I didn’t recognize the women, though they looked like the female versions of the Gargoyles, polished and posh, but escorting her at Henley was a man I did recognize. Jeremy Pantages. Interesting. According to the date, she’d been at Henley last July on the arm of Jeremy. Before she’d even started at Oxford. What did it mean?
Had she really come to Oxford, not for a degree, but to bag a title? No doubt, she wouldn’t be the first.
I messaged Miles to see if he wanted to get together for a drink. I figured I was all dressed up and had my makeup on and I might as well do an extra bit of sleuthing. He texted back that I should come up and meet him at the college. Miles said he was busy studying and needed another half an hour, but then he’d be happy to meet me at the pub. Since Cardinal College was just up the road from me on Harrington Street, we agreed to meet at The Bishop’s Mitre.
With half an hour to kill, and still mulling over what I’d learned from Sarah, I called Rafe’s butler and independent caterer, William. When he heard my voice, he said, “Lucy. How are you holding up? I feel so terrible that I dragged you into this ghastly mess.”
“It wasn’t your fault, William. But I have a question for you. I’ve been thinking about how much of a coincidence it was that Pamela would turn up at my shop right when you were coming to offer me a catering job. Did the Percival Browns know who you were using for staff?” It was a bit of a long shot, but I couldn’t think why she would have managed to be in my shop right when William arrived. I knew coincidences happened, but this was a pretty big stretch to be a genuine coincidence.
“Yes. I talked to both Alex and his father. They wanted to go over the menu with me, and his father made it clear that in the past there’s been some trouble with women. He asked who I was planning to hire as wait staff, and I told him about you.”
“How did you describe me?”
“I told him exactly who you are. That you are a little older than the other boys, a very down-to-earth person who runs a knitting shop, and how wholesome you are.”
Not exactly the most flattering description. “Wholesome?” I sounded like an apple-cheeked country girl who woke up at five in the morning and milked the cows.
“Well, I may have downplayed your attractiveness, but I also knew that Hugo Percival Brown and his son had nothing to worry about with you.”
Okay, that made me feel slightly better. “Did you tell them that you were going to ask Violet?”
“Probably. I no doubt described her as your knitting shop assistant.”
There really was something about a knitting shop that immediately conjured a woman who was probably older and perhaps more dowdy than either Violet or I liked to see ourselves. “Did you tell them that you would be looking for a third waitress?”
“I don’t remember. I may have. It’s the sort of thing I do, think aloud. Or they may have asked how many staff were coming. I can’t remember.”
“Okay. I’m really sorry that gig turned out so badly for you.”
“Me too. But I hope it won’t put you off helping me out again?”
“Anytime, William. All you have to do is feed me and I’m there.”
I walked into The Bishop’s Mitre and immediately spotted Miles. He was tucked away in a corner, and he had a beer and a novel in front of him. I caught sight of him before he saw me, and I thought if they used that picture in advertising for Cardinal College, women from all over the world would be flocking here. He had that kind of sexy, shabby, intellectual look about him that was irresistible. I could see I wasn’t the only woman who’d noticed him. Probably because he was reading, nobody was bothering him, but I thought the second he put that book down, he might have some company. As though
