no’?”
“Archie here can come up and sit in the dining room,” said Sean. “She’s frightened the other guests awa’, so nobody’ll notice.”
¦
The clients of Checkmate strolled along the waterfront at Ullapool, scrubbing their faces with sticks of repellent. Ullapool is the home of a particularly savage tribe of midges. But it is a beautiful little town with a pretty harbour and some good shops. Despite the heat and the midges, everyone was in a good mood, and even John Taylor walked with a jaunty step.
Lunch in a waterfront restaurant was not particularly good, being of the chips-with-everything variety, but Peta was not there and the sun was still shining and there seemed a determination on everyone’s part to enjoy the day. They talked incessantly of Peta and how horrible she was, still drawn together by that communal resentment, until Maria began to realize what Priscilla had already guessed: Peta, in her repulsive way, was an asset.
They made their way after lunch to Inverewe Gardens which, despite the fact that they are in the far north of Britain, are near the Gulf Stream and so boast palm trees and many exotic plants.
Maria deliberately let them think they were all returning to the castle for dinner, because when the gaiety of the group began to flag, she announced they were stopping for dinner somewhere on the road home and so the spirits of everyone soared again at this further reprieve from Peta.
The dinner at an unpretentious hotel recommended by Priscilla was simple but good. The company enlivened the evening by picturing Peta wolfing down her solitary dinner.
¦
And it was a solitary dinner, too. Peta had trailed around all day, feeling cross that the others had escaped her. A large breakfast and larger lunch did nothing to restore her mood. Crystal, who should have been some sort of a companion, had passed the day in her room, reading magazines and doing things to her hair and nails. Peta called on her to ask her to come downstairs for dinner but met with a rebuff. Crystal’s hair was in rollers and she said she was trying out a new style and wasn’t going to take them out. She said she was going to have a flask of coffee and some sandwiches in her room. Peta began to protest loudly, saying as she was paying for Crystal’s holiday in this expensive hotel, then the least Crystal could do was to keep her company. But Crystal had a genius for turning suddenly deaf. All the while her aunt was railing at her, she lazily flipped over the pages of a film magazine and did not appear to hear a word.
Peta hated her own company. Almost tearfully, she ended up by saying, “You were the sole beneficiary in my will but the first thing I’m going to do when I get back to London is cut you out.”
Crystal did hear that. She thought briefly about following Peta downstairs and making amends, but that would mean taking the rollers out of her hair. She picked up the magazine again.
Priscilla ushered Peta into the dining room. There had been no reason to turn another room into a separate dining room, for no one else was eating at the hotel that evening. Peta looked so downcast that Priscilla said that the cook was preparing a special meal for her, as she was the only diner. Priscilla was relieved that Sean had returned from the village sober and in such good spirits and prepared to create something for Peta.
In the kitchen, Sean looked down at his handiwork with satisfaction. He had skinned the cat and stewed it gently for hours in a rich wine sauce embellished with mushrooms and herbs. Before it, he planned to serve only a thin consomme, not wanting to spoil the glutton’s appetite.
Peta drank the soup and eagerly waited for this special main course. The waitress brought it in in a large casserole. Peta’s eyes gleamed. “Leave it,” she said. “I’ll serve myself.”
She got through the lot, along with a mountain of sauteed potatoes and a dish of cauliflower and cheese and then leaned back and wiped her mouth with her napkin and gave a satisfied belch. “Bring the cook here,” she said grandly to the waitress. “I wish to compliment him.”
As Sean entered the dining room, he whispered to the waitress, “Run along. I’ve left a glass of wine for you in the kitchen.”
Then he approached Peta and smiled in triumph as he saw the empty casserole.
“That was excellent,” said Peta. “But what was it? Venison?”
Sean smiled insolently down at her. “Cat,” he said. Archie Maclean, who had crept quietly into the dining room, stared at them. Peta blinked at Sean. “You surely didn’t say ‘cat’.”
“Aye, cat, moggie, pussie…C-A-T. I bet the boys in the bar that you waud eat anything, and so you did. One auld smelly wild cat.”
“Get the manager,” spluttered Peta, turning green. “You’re mad.”
“Oh, no, you fat pig,” hissed Sean, leaning over her with a courteous smile pinned on his face in case anyone looked in the dining room door. “You say one word, and ah’ll take the meat cleaver through your fat neck. But you won’t. You do and ah’ll phone the newspapers and say ah served you the beast to teach a snorting, guzzling pig like you a lesson.”
He turned and stalked off and Archie slid out after him.
Peta got shakily to her feet, her handkerchief jammed against her mouth. She ran all the way to her room, where she was very sick indeed. She would need to leave, need to get away. It was awful, horrible. Just because she enjoyed her food that madman had threatened her. She would call on that nice policeman. She was almost ready to go and look for Hamish Macbeth when she sat down again with a groan. What if it got in the newspapers? Maria would claim that she was ruining the business. Everywhere she went, people would watch her eating. Peta snuffled dismally.
It was all Maria’s fault. Maria must have been spreading tales about her. Yes, Maria was jealous and had no doubt paid the cook to drive her away. So she wasn’t going. She was going to stay and snatch up one of these men and teach Maria a lesson.
¦
Priscilla received a phone call from Hamish Macbeth. He sounded worried. He said he was on his way up to the castle to talk to her.
Soon she heard the police Land Rover skidding to a halt outside the castle. She went out to meet Hamish.
“Where’s Peta Gore?” he asked.
“In her room.”
“Well, I hope she’s all right. I saw Sean rushing into the bar and followed him in and listened. He was collecting bets. They didn’t see me at first, so I was able to learn that Sean had cooked up some old wild cat and served it to Peta, who ate it for dinner.”
“He’s run mad,” gasped Priscilla. “Let’s hope she never finds out. I’d better tell Johnson to fire Sean, although where we’re going to get another cook in the middle of the season, I don’t know.”
“It’s worse than that. He
“We’ll have the press on the doorstep in the morning. We’ll be ruined,” wailed Priscilla.
“Aye, but maybe we can keep it quiet. Look, there was one thing that struck me about Peta. She fair fancies herself with the fellows. You’d best take me up to her. Leave the whole thing to me. You can keep Sean for the summer if I can arrange everything and then get rid of him when things quieten down. Tell Johnson to start now looking for another chef but don’t tell him why.”
“But the locals…”
“Oh, them,” said Hamish. “I can get that lot to shut up any time. Now lead me to Peta.”
Priscilla took him up the stairs and knocked at Peta’s door. A faint voice called, “Come in.”
“Do your stuff, Hamish, but God knows how you’re going to manage it,” said Priscilla.
Hamish went into Peta’s bedroom and closed the door behind him. Priscilla waited, irresolute, and then went off down the stairs.
“What do you want?” Peta asked the tall constable who stood humbly before her, his cap under his arm.
“I came to see if you were all right,” said Hamish. “I gather the mad cook served you a venison casserole and told you it was cat.”
“Venison…?”
“Aye, you see he made this daft bet with the locals that he could get anyone to eat anything and so they gave him an old wild cat. Not wanting to lose his money, he pretended to you that it was cat, although he actually made it from the best haunch of venison. The trouble is, I gather, he was insulting and threatening.”
