To which she replied, “Do you never take advice?”
“One of my character flaws, of which there are literally dozens, as you’re learning.”
“Hmm. I am indeed. Please pour it out. Pour mine out as well. Open the other.”
“Only if you’re certain.”
“I’m completely certain. That one cost six pounds. A real step up. How bad can it be?”
“No doubt it’s a vintage year.” He went for the wine and joined her at the table, bringing fresh glasses with him. She said, “Have you eaten?”
“A sandwich from Peeler’s. At least that’s where Barbara claimed it was from. Egg salad. Aside from coronation chicken, it’s the only filling that’s virtually impossible to ruin unless the entire lot’s gone bad. What are you working on?”
She shoved the papers into the manila folders from which they’d apparently come. “Staff reviews. Not my favourite thing to do, so I’ve been procrastinating.”
“That’s not like you.” Neither, in fact, was the terrible wine. The white was much better, though. She’d obviously been joking about the price.
“I know,” she said.
“You’re worried about Cornwall.”
She looked at him, obviously reluctant to go there in conversation another time. She took up her glass and drank. “I ought to eat something,” she said.
He got to his feet. He went to the fridge. She said, “Oh God, Tommy, I didn’t mean for you to cook.”
“I’m delighted to hear that. No doubt you’ve been warned off by Charlie Denton.”
“Well, he has given me a word to the wise. Why does he insist upon calling you ‘his lordship,’ by the way? He manages to make me feel like someone in a Victorian costume drama but without the costume.”
“Consider it role-playing. He’s always onstage in one way or another. I did try to break him of it, but I’ve long since given up in exchange for his cooking and dusting. His hoovering skills are rather hit-and-miss, but the man does know how to launder shirts and wield an iron.”
“There are things such as laundries for that.”
“Hmm. Yes. He likes to be useful between auditions, however. I humour him. Ah. You have cheese. Are there biscuits? Apples? No. Stay where you are. Really, Daidre, I can handle this.”
He did so. Apples, cheese, savoury biscuits. He even unearthed an unopened bag of mixed nuts as well as a box of currants. The two peaches he found at the bottom of the fruit bowl had given up the ghost, but there was a banana that looked as if it had something edible left to it. He assembled all this and carried it to her, along with two plates and appropriate cutlery. He sat.
She said, “Yes.”
He said, “Hmmm? Oh. Cornwall?”
“Cornwall. I thought at first that the isolation of the cottage would actually appeal to them. They couldn’t have been any more isolated than they were in my father’s caravan, so I told myself they’d feel more comfortable in lodgings where they didn’t have to interact with anyone. Of course, working on the cider farm as they do puts them into contact with people.”
“Perhaps that’s what’s not working well for them.”
“But they have to do something, Tommy.”
“Were they doing something with your father?”
“Goron was.” She stared at nothing. It had grown dark outside, and he watched her reflection in the window overlooking the garden. Its upper panes were open and he could smell the night-blooming jasmine she’d planted beneath it. A cat mewled plaintively nearby. Daidre slid from her chair and went to the door. A black-and-white cat strolled in. In the way of all felines, he assumed ownership at once, leaping onto one of the kitchen chairs and looking expectant.
“Have you adopted a cat?” Lynley asked.
“He’s adopted me. Mostly for the food and fresh water, although every now and again I catch him eyeing me adoringly.”
“A cat? Adoring you? That seems like a contradiction, not that you lack the necessary adorable qualities.”
“Cats do adore, Tommy. It just looks different coming from them.”
Daidre rustled in a lower drawer next to the stove. She brought out a bag of dried cat food and poured it into a bowl on the floor next to the door, beside a bowl of water. Lynley had not noticed either before. Too focused elsewhere, he thought.
She patted the floor and said, “Come along, you. I know you’re hungry.”
Lynley watched as the cat jumped silently from the chair to investigate the bowl. Daidre’s gaze was on the cat, so this left Lynley free to study her.