Page 68

Nan smiled. ‘I’ve made a lot of jam roly-polys in my life. This is a good one.’

‘Lovely. Thanks, Nan. Dad said in his day they called it “dead man’s arm”.’

Nan chuckled. ‘In our house it was “dead man’s leg”.’

‘Seems appropriate for Appleby’s,’ Fleur remarked, as they shared a grin. ‘Well, if you want me to make the custard or—’

‘All under control, Miss. Why don’t you go and get ready for your young man?’

Fleur did, and just before five she found Henry and Irma already awaiting their guest. Henry was in the armchair sipping an ale. He looked ashen but seemed to be in bright spirits.

‘I heard about the good work you did today, Fleur.’

‘Did you check in on Mr Bedford?’

‘I certainly did. He looked exceptional, my dear. Perfect skin colouring.’

‘His eyes?’

‘I couldn’t have done better and before you ask, yes, I looked in his mouth. You really did an amazing job on him. Very neat. You’ve done our family and his family proud.’

Fleur sat up straighter. It had been a long time since she’d received this sort of praise from her father, and a glance at Irma told her that her stepmother was not enjoying it.

Irma’s pinched lips moved. ‘Dinner is rather early, isn’t it?’

‘Only by half an hour. Besides, Dad likes to eat early.’ Fleur shrugged, knowing it was so he could make it to the pub for a quick one. ‘He might take Tom to the pub for a drink after dinner.’

Henry nodded as though he didn’t disapprove of the idea.

‘Tell me again why we’re meeting this fellow? I really don’t like strangers—’

‘He’s not a stranger, Irma. We’ve known him since I was a child; I just haven’t seen him since those days. But he’s lovely and I like him even more now.’

‘How much more?’ Irma demanded. ‘It seems you’re going to a lot of trouble.’

‘Not really. A mere fraction of the effort and money you put into the Coglins.’ Fleur kept her tone sounding reasonable but hoped it felt like the barb she intended.

‘I was going to get Henry some lovely Coffin Bay oysters for tonight, but he stopped me.’

Henry gave Fleur a look of soft despair. ‘No one is to fuss. I seem to remember suggesting a roast chicken anyway.’

Fleur frowned. ‘Oysters, though . . . tonight? Normally we have them Friday night.’

‘What’s wrong with that? You father enjoys them and they’re good for him. They’ll restore his strength.’

‘How do you know this, Irma?’

‘My father always spoke about the power-packed oyster, if you don’t mind.’

‘Speaking of seafood, there’s a strange smell around,’ Fleur commented.

Irma gave a grimacing smile. ‘Well, I wonder what that could be?’ Her sarcasm was on display, but it didn’t have its usual cut. ‘I’ll just check on Nan.’ She excused herself and left the table.

‘Dad, it’s not the mortuary but it’s lingering around there. Smells fishy.’

Irma bustled back in. ‘I’ll get some fresh oysters for you tomorrow, Henry, how’s that?’

‘I will, Irma,’ Fleur replied. ‘That’s always been my job. I’ve been collecting the oysters from our local pub since I was a child.’