Arsenic For Tea: A Murder Most Unladylike Mystery (A Wells and Wong Mystery) (6 page)

‘Well, yes, it
happened
, but it doesn’t
mean
anything, Hazel. As soon as we unmask Mr Curtis for the villain he is, Mummy will come to her senses – what she has of them – and go back to Daddy. So, you see, it’s more imperative than ever that we uncover enough evidence to show to Uncle Felix, and we do it as quickly as possible.’

I looked at Daisy. Her eyes were glittering and her cheeks were pink. This was Daisy with a Plan. But although I agreed with her about Mr Curtis, I was still terribly worried. I could see that she was up to her old tricks again – trying to make the evidence fit the way she hoped it would. No matter the reason why Mr Curtis had kissed Daisy’s mother, he had still done it, and Daisy’s mother had kissed him back. I remembered all the arguments between Lord and Lady Hastings that week, and knew that, whatever Daisy said, the situation between them was very serious indeed. What if Daisy’s mother wanted to run away with Mr Curtis? What would Daisy do then?

‘So, Watson,’ said Daisy, ‘we must absolutely watch Mr Curtis like hawks tomorrow. We can’t let him out of our sight!’

‘But it’s your birthday!’ I said.

‘Never mind birthdays! Some things are more important. Besides, I’ve had plenty of birthdays already.’

There was a sudden banging on the door.

‘Let us in, Squashy, you horror!’ shouted Bertie. ‘Don’t be an ass, come out! What are you doing in there?’

‘Brushing our teeth, of course!’ shouted Daisy. ‘Oh, all
right
. We’re coming out.’

She unlocked the door, and we went out onto the landing. Bertie was there, arms crossed, and beside him was Stephen. I blushed to be seen coming out of a bathroom by two boys, but Daisy merely sniffed and looked unconcerned, as though she had just emerged from a ballroom.

‘You’re a queer fish, Squashy,’ said Bertie when he saw us. ‘I heard the two of you talking. What was it about?’

‘You, and how vile you are,’ said Daisy rudely. ‘Poor old Stephen, forced to spend time in your odious presence. Now clear off and stop sticking your nose in.’

Bertie scowled and made a horrible face at her, but Stephen smiled at me. I still felt rather awkward, but I smiled back.

‘Why does he call you Squashy?’ I asked curiously when we were back in the nursery. Beanie, who was already in bed, waved at us.

‘According to
him
, I was a fat baby,’ said Daisy. ‘That isn’t true, of course. I was perfect. And anyway,
he
had to wear an eye-patch for his squint until he was ten. He thinks it’s terribly amusing to call me . . . that name . . .
now
, but if he ever gets engaged I shall call him Squinty in front of his fiancée and we’ll see if she still wants to marry him then.’

Daisy put on her nightie and got into her bed, which creaked under her. She blew out the candle on her bedside table – a funny three-legged thing which had once been green but was now not much of anything – rolled over so that her nose was against the peeling yellow wallpaper (a circus scene, with elephants and lions and ringmasters chasing each other in circles), and began to breathe as though she were asleep. Kitty crept into Beanie’s bed to whisper with her, but I knew that Daisy was still very much awake. I wanted to speak to her – but was not quite sure what I should say.

I thought of my bedroom at home, all smooth and white, with the fan going round and round soothingly above my head, and the voices and chiming glasses from my parents’ drinks parties drifting up the stairs. Here the blankets itched, and though I had three of them I still shivered. The nursery walls were all crooked, the house creaked and grumbled, and something shrieked outside. I remembered the first night I had spent here, when I thought it was a baby, but Daisy told me it was only a fox. All at once I longed to go home.

It was odd, because I should have been enjoying myself – it was the hols, and I was with Daisy, after all – but I was feeling more and more homesick. Suddenly I couldn’t wait until Daisy’s party was over.

The next morning I was woken by something sitting very heavily on my stomach.

I gasped and opened my eyes.

‘Wotcher, Watson,’ said Daisy, leaning over so that her hair tickled my face. ‘It’s my birthday. Come on, get up – we’ve got a villain to unmask. Look, I brought provisions.’

She dropped an apple and an English muffin, leaking butter and honey, onto my front. A shining oily patch spread across my nightie before I could snatch it away.

‘Daisy!’ I said, eating the muffin in large sticky bites to get rid of it. ‘What’s this?’

‘Pre-breakfast breakfast.’ Daisy bit into a muffin of her own. ‘I would have thought you of all people would understand. Detectives need sustenance.’

‘How
early
is it?’ I asked. ‘Happy birthday, by the way.’

‘Not very,’ said Daisy. ‘Half past seven. Oh, come on, Hazel, I’ve been up for hours and
hours
, and so have Hetty and Mrs D. But listen, we must begin
at once
. As I came up the stairs past the first floor landing I heard movement in Mr Curtis’s room. We can’t let him just wander about without being watched!’

This morning Daisy looked
happy
– glowing with it, not at all like the girl I had seen behind the curtain last night. I thought I knew why. She had taken all the real things that had happened yesterday, and in her head she had turned them into the wooden parts of a puzzle. I was still worried for her, but I couldn’t say anything. If this was how she had chosen to deal with what we’d seen in the library, I couldn’t stop her – it was her birthday, after all.

Our talking had woken Kitty and Beanie.

‘Whatever’s wrong?’ grumbled Kitty, raising herself up on her elbows and peering about the nursery. ‘Why are you awake?’

‘Happy birthday!’ cried Beanie, leaping out of bed and standing up on her tiptoes like a small ballerina. ‘I didn’t forget!’

Daisy suddenly sat up, digging her knees into my stomach and scrambling over me to get to the window above the head of my bed. She wriggled her fingers through the bars and squashed her face out as far as it would go. ‘Look!’ she cried.

We clambered up next to her, Beanie wriggling curiously and Kitty still grumbling at how early it was, and through the black crosshatch of the bars we saw Mr Curtis, in tennis shorts and an aertex shirt, jogging easily across the gold-shining morning lawn. He looped round the maze, which cast a long dark shadow over the paler grass, and leaped over the gravel pathway, with its clipped box hedges and little stone urns. At the woods by the lake he turned and began to jog back towards the big oak and the walled garden. We all watched him go.

‘Why are we looking at Mr Curtis?’ asked Beanie.

‘Ooh,
Daisy
, do you have a pash?’ said Kitty, giggling.

‘
Hardly
,’ said Daisy. ‘I only mean – whatever is he doing up so early? It isn’t normal.’ She elbowed me in the ribs as she said this, and I winced.

But just then someone else appeared on the lawn, coming around the back of the house from the stables where the cars are kept.

It was Lord Hastings. He had his Barbour on, a snapped-open rifle hanging over one arm, and Millie leaping along at his heels. Toast Dog was panting and struggling behind them. As he stumped through the grass he looked absolutely
right
, in a way that Mr Curtis didn’t. He raised his hands to his mouth and gave a ‘
Halloa
’, and Mr Curtis reined himself in. They approached each other – and suddenly I couldn’t help feeling nervous.

Mr Curtis had the swagger back in his step. He said something that we couldn’t hear (Daisy scrabbled for the catch and pushed the window open a little, but we were still too high up and far away to make out any words), but it looked like what he said was swaggering as well. Lord Hastings’ round face turned beet red. He jerked his chin up, just like Daisy does when she is truly furious, and bellowed, so loud that we could hear almost all of it, ‘ENOUGH, SIR! I have been trying to . . . but now I . . . leave this house IMMEDIATELY! . . . staying another night under . . . who you are!’

I could hardly believe it. Lord Hastings was making Mr Curtis leave Fallingford!

I expected Mr Curtis to be angry, or upset, at what Lord Hastings had said – but on the contrary, he threw back his head and laughed. Then he said one more thing, turned on his heel and jogged away. Lord Hastings was left standing alone, clenching his fists and panting like Toast Dog.

‘Lord!’ said Kitty. ‘What was that about? Will Mr Curtis really have to leave? Poor man!’

‘
Poor—!
’ Daisy started. Then she remembered herself, and made her face go very innocent. ‘I can’t think what it could be. I’m sure it’s just a boring grown-up thing. Let’s go down to breakfast.’

I was halfway through my third piece of toast and marmalade – and trying to keep my nose away from the foul-smelling kipper Daisy was dissecting behind the pile of presents arranged for her by Miss Alston – when Lord Hastings came bustling into the room. He was still slightly red-faced and grass-stained, but he seemed determined to be cheerful. ‘Daughter!’ he cried when he saw Daisy. ‘Happiest of birthdays! Aren’t you going to open your presents?’

‘Thinking about it,’ said Daisy. ‘Mummy hasn’t given me anything, I see.’

‘I’m sure it’ll come later,’ said Lord Hastings, head turned away as he piled his plate with bacon and eggs.

As he was speaking the door swept open again, and Aunt Saskia wafted in. She lost a scarf on the door handle and an earring under the sideboard (Chapman had to bend down with an arthritic crunching of knees and fish it out), and her nasty furry wrap came undone and almost slipped off her shoulders. I saw with disgust that it had a face like a squashed cat’s. I thought I must be imagining things, but it really did have little shining eyes and a flat nose, and whiskers. I shall never understand the English even if I live to be a thousand.

‘Good morning, Aunt Saskia,’ said Lord Hastings. ‘Bertie, do pass the salt.’

Bertie passed it, making a face at Daisy from behind his hand. Just then there was a shriek from the kitchens. We all jumped and stared nervously at each other, and I wondered what other awful thing could have happened. Mrs Doherty stuck her head through the door, looking flustered.

‘Apologies,’ she said. ‘Hetty found another rat in amongst the flour. It’s the third this week!’

‘I wasn’t frightened!’ called Hetty from beyond her.

Chapman frowned crossly, and I could tell that he did not approve. ‘Fetch the poison,’ he mouthed at Mrs Doherty.

‘Yes – there’s arsenic in the hall cupboard,’ said Lord Hastings, busily salting his eggs. ‘A big tub of it. Bring it out, Mrs D, and dispatch the rodents immediately.’

‘Very good, Lord Hastings,’ said Mrs Doherty, and she backed out of the room.

At that moment Mr Curtis came in, his hair gleaming wet from his after-run bath. ‘Happy birthday, Daisy,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ said Daisy graciously, but the bridge of her nose wrinkled up as she said it, and I could tell that she was surprised. So was I. What was Mr Curtis doing, coming down to breakfast so casually after what we had seen? Should he not be packing his bags? Lord Hastings was clenching his hands around his cutlery, and his teeth around the mouthful of egg he had just taken, but he didn’t say anything. I wondered if he was as surprised as we were.

Miss Alston murmured something about getting things ready for our lessons, and slipped out of the dining room, but I scarcely noticed her go. I was too fascinated by Mr Curtis.

He seemed determined to brazen it out. He took a plate of food and sat down at the table, setting his lovely gold watch down next to his right hand. Aunt Saskia gazed at it as though she wanted to eat it – I quite saw what Kitty had meant yesterday.

‘Further to our discussion,’ he said to Lord Hastings, ‘I don’t find it convenient to leave before this evening. If you could ask your man to take me to the station for the 9.06 train I should appreciate it.’

I thought Lord Hastings might snap his knife, he was gripping it so hard.

Bertie looked at him, and then back at Mr Curtis, and scowled. ‘I do think,’ he said loudly, ‘that there isn’t enough arsenic used in this house. The rats seem to get
everywhere
.’

‘It must be a terrible problem,’ said Mr Curtis, and he took a defiant bite of his bacon. I swear I saw him smirk at Bertie.

Bertie puffed up with rage, and Stephen had to put a hand on his arm to calm him. Chapman dropped the coffee pot.

‘Have a care, Chapman,’ said Lord Hastings, jumping. ‘Curtis, O’Brian will have the car ready by eight this evening. Please be prompt.’

‘I shall,’ said Mr Curtis, still with that smirk on his face. I could tell that he thought he had won. He stood up, stretched, and sauntered out of the dining room.

By my wristwatch, Daisy left a careful minute before she put down her knife and fork and said, ‘Lovely breakfast, Chapman. Do thank Mrs D. Kitty, Beanie, you finish up. Hazel and I will be waiting for you outside.’ She kicked me under the table, and I gulped down my last marmalady mouthful and said, ‘Yes, I’m finished.’