‘We should. Was there any gossip?’

  ‘Nothing we haven’t already heard from Veronica.’

  ‘Did they notice anything odd on Saturday when John died?’

  ‘I was going to ask but I didn’t want to be too obvious about it. I want to gain their trust a bit before I go in like Ellie of the Yard with my notebook and my questions.’

  ‘Fair dos. It’s Monday, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is. We have twenty-four hours. Maybe a little more.’

  ‘Until we can go home?’

  ‘Yes.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘The lawyers are coming on Wednesday. What if we’re not back in time?’

  ‘Surely they’ll make allowances – the flood will be in the papers.’

  ‘Oh, sure, but my father’s will was quite specific. Once a year we have to satisfy them we’re happily married, that we’re not behaving irresponsibly and that you’re not squandering my allowance. Being stranded away from home at a party and leaving the children with Nanny is hardly responsible.’

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ said Skins. ‘We can sweet-talk them if it comes to it.’

  ‘I guess. So now we just have to find out who the murderer is without getting ourselves killed.’

  Skins sat up and picked up the cup of tea from the bedside table. ‘Well, there’s that little obstacle, yes.’

  ‘I hope the children are OK.’

  ‘Nanny Nora will keep them entertained. They probably won’t even notice we’re not there.’

  ‘That’s even worse. I hate not being able to let people know where we are and that we’re safe.’

  ‘Just imagine how people got on before telephones.’

  ‘Before telephones they wouldn’t be sixty miles from home and stuck in a country house with a murderer. They’d have trotted to the local market in their horse and cart and would be back in time for supper. They’d not need to telephone anyone because they’d almost always be at home.’

  Skins sipped his tea. ‘You make a good point, my love – and Lily does make a cracking cup of char, by the way – but fretting about it isn’t going to mend the phone lines.’

  ‘Fretting about Lily’s tea-making skills?’ she said with a wink. ‘No, that won’t get the phones reconnected.’

  ‘That really is annoying, isn’t it? You must hate it when I do that.’

  ‘It really is. But you’re right about the phone lines. They’ll be fixed when they’re fixed, and no amount of worrying will make it happen quicker. You’re becoming very wise.’

  ‘It’s old age,’ he said. ‘Give it a couple more years and I’ll be sitting on a mountain top with a long grey beard and adoring acolytes at my feet.’

  ‘Adoring acolytes, eh?’

  ‘Besotted with me, they’ll be.’

  ‘I’m sure they will.’

  ‘Such will be my fame that they’ll come from far and wide to hear my words of wisdom.’

  ‘Proud of you, honey. Now put on some pants and we can have breakfast.’

  ‘Will I ever persuade you to say “trousers”?’

  ‘Nope. I love the way everyone’s eyes goggle when I talk about their pants.’

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  Most of the rest of the band were already in the dining room. After helping themselves to heaping plates of food from the sideboard, Skins and Ellie settled themselves at the table.

  ‘Morning, all,’ said Skins. ‘Just us lot for breakfast, then? Where’s the family?’

  Mickey attempted an impersonation of Dunsworth the butler. ‘Some members of the family are taking breakfast in their rooms, sir.’

  ‘Are they, by gawd? How the other half lives, eh? Why don’t we have breakfast in bed, Ells?’

  ‘I brought you a cup of tea,’ she said. ‘What more do you want?’

  ‘Fair dos. Any coffee in the pot?’

  ‘Only if you want it black, I’m afraid,’ said Eustace.

  ‘I quite like black coffee,’ said Skins.

  ‘Me, too,’ said Ellie. ‘Have we run out of milk? We had some in our tea earlier.’

  Mickey looked up from his scrambled eggs. ‘I think you might have got in just before rationing started. Mrs Whatsherface, the cook, said the milkman hasn’t been able to get here since Friday. They’re going to have to eke it out, apparently – there’s not much left and she needs most of it for cooking. Black coffee, and lemon in your tea from now on.’

  ‘We’d send Elk out to see if there were any cows on the estate,’ said Puddle. ‘But . . . well . . . you know how the chicken thing turned out.’

  ‘I told you before,’ said Elk. ‘I grew up in New Cross. We didn’t have chickens. Or bleedin’ cows.’

  Dunn walked in. ‘It doesn’t matter, mate. If there were cows that needed milking, someone would have done it by now. Can’t leave cows unmilked for a whole weekend.’

  ‘Hello, Barty boy,’ said Skins. ‘Sleep well?’

  ‘Like a baby. Actually, no, not like a baby at all. I’ve been at your gaff when your two were babies. They wake up every couple of hours and scream the place down.’

  Benny was tucking into some sausages. ‘How’s the investigation coming along?’

  Ellie quickly ran through everything they’d learned so far.

  ‘Blimey,’ said Benny. ‘You’ve not been letting the grass grow, have you?’

  ‘It doesn’t sound like you’re any closer to working it out, though,’ said Eustace.

  ‘It just seems to be getting more and more confusing,’ agreed Ellie. ‘What about you guys? Have you noticed anything odd?’

  ‘Like what?’ said Benny.

  ‘Oh, you know – conversations that don’t make sense, people acting strange?’

  ‘Nothing I can think of,’ said Benny.

  ‘That Peter’s a bit oily,’ said Puddle, with a shudder. ‘And I overheard Gordon and Charlotte having the fiercest row before dinner last night, but that’s all. I didn’t catch any details, and nothing came of it – she just went off and sat next to Marianne.’

  Katy took two slices of toast from a rack on the table and buttered one of them. ‘I’ve got to be honest, I’m still wondering why you don’t just leave it to the authorities. I mean, even if you really believe they were both murdered, why not just let the professionals deal with it?’

  ‘Once the doctor has signed the death certificates,’ said Dunn, ‘the police won’t question it, the coroner won’t question it, and they’ll get written up as a tragic suicide and an equally tragic accident.’

  ‘And why would that be so bad? It’s not your job. It’s not your family. It’s not your problem.’

  ‘Seriously?’ said Puddle. ‘You think someone should just get away with murder because it’s too much trouble to catch them?’

  ‘Well, no. But, I mean, what actual difference does it make to any of us if some jumped-up biscuit merchant knocks off their old man? They’re not going to kill again, are they? You’re not protecting society from some evil maniac, are you?’

  ‘We think they have killed again, though,’ said Ellie. ‘I don’t think Hetty’s death was an accident. Someone drugged her.’

  ‘Like they drugged us,’ said Puddle, in a sudden panic.

  ‘No, I think you drugged yourselves – it was light-fingered Mickey Kent filching the Scotch from the study that led to you all conking out in the chapel.’

  ‘Still,’ persisted Katy, ‘it’s all just a private family squabble.’

  ‘So if I strangle you right now, we could just write that off as a private family squabble?’ said Puddle. ‘“Musician kills sister in fit of pique.” You’d not want me brought to justice?’

  ‘I’d be dead, darling – what would I do with justice? It wouldn’t bring me back to life, would it?’

  ‘I love a philosophical discussion as much as the next girl,’ said Ellie, ‘but you’re not going to change my mind. I want to see this through. If what they say about the floods is true, we’ve got until tomorrow morning before the doctor gets here and someone gets away with murder. And I, for one, am going to do everything in my power to make sure they don’t.’

  Katy shook her head. ‘As you wish. What about you two?’

  ‘I’m with Ellie,’ said Skins. ‘Always.’

  ‘Whither go the Maloneys, there go I,’ said Dunn. ‘And if either of them ever kills me, I definitely want them brought to justice.’

  ‘We’d never kill you, honey,’ said Ellie.

  ‘I might,’ said Skins. ‘Don’t get complacent, mate.’

  Katy shook her head. ‘I still think you’re on a hiding to nothing, but it looks like I’m in the minority.’

  Ellie smiled and looked around the table. ‘Anyone got anything else that might help us?’

  ‘I was sitting near Charlotte and Marianne last night,’ said Vera. ‘Thick as thieves, they were. I reckon you need to find out more about them.’

  Ellie poked Skins in the chest. ‘What do I keep saying to you?’

  ‘You keep saying there’s something odd about the way those two are thick as thieves,’ he said.

  ‘Damn right.’ She looked back at Vera. ‘What were they saying?’

  ‘They were talking very quiet – I couldn’t hear. But the tone wasn’t angry – they weren’t having a row. It was . . . you know . . . chummy.’

  ‘Chummy, Ivor. They were chummy. One woman was sleeping with the other woman’s husband, and they were chummy.’

  ‘Chummy,’ said Skins. ‘Very odd.’

  Ellie poked him again.

  ‘Why don’t I try getting one of them alone?’ asked Dunn. ‘Give them a bit of the old Barty magic – see if I can’t charm something out of them.’

  Puddle winked. ‘I’d tell him anything, wouldn’t you, girls?’

  ‘Oh, in a second,’ said Vera, fluttering her eyelashes and holding her hands coquettishly beneath her chin.

  ‘You can take the mickey all you like,’ said Dunn. ‘I’ve still got the magic.’

  Ellie touched his arm. ‘Of course you have, honey. So you’re in charge of finding out what’s going on with those two.’

  ‘I’ve got magic,’ said Skins.

  The four women laughed.

  Ellie kissed him on the cheek. ‘In spades, honey. But best keep it under wraps for now – who knows what the Bilverton girls might do if they come under your influence? We don’t want to cause a riot.’

  ‘I’m immune to it, meself,’ said Mickey. ‘But to be on the safe side, I’m off back down to the chapel. Anyone coming?’

  Elk and Benny joined him, leaving the rest to finish their breakfast.

  A little later, the Bilvertons began drifting in.

  Dunn was halfway through his second cup of coffee and trying to decide whether to have another boiled egg when he spotted the first of his potential interviewees.

  Marianne came into the dining room and headed straight for the sideboard. She helped herself to a surprisingly large amount of food, then looked around to see who else was at the table. Before Dunn could catch her eye, she spotted Malcolm at the other end and joined him.

  ‘Never mind, mate,’ said Skins. ‘You’ll be able to work the magic later, I’m sure.’

  Dunn held up his hand. ‘Shh.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m trying to listen,’ said Dunn under his breath.

  ‘What are they saying?’

  ‘I don’t know – some skinny idiot keeps talking to me and I can’t hear them.’

  ‘Sorry, mate.’ Skins turned to Ellie and whispered, ‘We’ve got to keep quiet, he’s trying to earwig.’

  ‘We’d better shut up then,’ she whispered back.

  ‘Better had.’

  ‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ said Dunn. ‘You two are as bad as each other. Are you going to eat that toast?’

  ‘Help yourself,’ said Skins, pushing the plate across.

  Skins and Ellie talked about their children and made plans for a trip to the seaside now the weather had properly cheered up, while Dunn ate the toast and waited for an opportunity to get Marianne on her own. He thought he saw an opening when Malcolm rose from the table, but he was just refilling his plate.

  His hopes rose again when Charlotte appeared at the door, but she looked quickly around the room and left without coming in. Dunn put down his coffee cup.

  ‘You going to follow her?’ said Skins. ‘You might be able to catch her before she disappears back upstairs.’

  ‘Thanks for the help, mate. Always good to get advice from a professional investigator.’

  ‘I’m just saying . . .’

  Before Dunn could stand up, Marianne wiped her mouth, put her napkin on the table and made her excuses to Malcolm. She left the room.

  ‘Better get your skates on, Barty boy – they’re both on the loose now.’

  Dunn followed.

  He hurried out of the dining room, through the tiny vestibule with its secret door to the servants’ stairs and out into the Grand Hall. He came to a skidding halt behind one of the stone pillars supporting the gallery when he heard women’s voices ahead. He stood still, hoping they hadn’t heard his rushing footsteps. Realizing how peculiar it would look if someone saw him, he took his notebook from his breast pocket and leaned on the pillar. If anyone chanced upon him and wondered what he was up to, he’d say he’d just had an idea for a song and had to stop to write it down before he forgot.

  He listened carefully, trying to make out the voices in the echoing hall.

  ‘We’ve got to come clean,’ said Charlotte.

  ‘It will destroy them,’ said Marianne. ‘They can’t ever know.’

  ‘It’s the only way. It’s secrets that tear families apart. They can deal with the truth, whatever it is, but secrets will eat away at all of us.’

  ‘We can’t. Just think of the trouble—’

  Marianne stopped abruptly at the sound of fresh footsteps on the stairs.

  ‘What ho, ladies,’ said Howard from the landing. ‘Lovely day again.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Marianne. ‘It looks as though the weather’s finally turned.’

  ‘Might be worth a quick run down the drive in the old MG after breakfast and see how the floodwater’s doing.’

  Howard was getting closer, and Dunn found his confidence in the ‘just writing a song’ ruse ebbing away. He pushed himself upright and stepped out, trying to make it look as though he’d just come from the dining room.

  ‘Morning, Dunn,’ said Howard.

  ‘Morning, Howard.’

  ‘Any breakfast left?’

  ‘Plenty. Not much milk, though.’

  ‘Ah, of course, should have thought of that. Milkman can’t get through. We shall have to make do. I was just telling the ladies I’ll pop out later and check on the flood. I doubt we’ll have to wait more than another day before everything’s back to normal.’ He looked guiltily at Marianne. ‘Well, I mean, not normal . . . but . . .’

  ‘It’s all right, Howard,’ she said. ‘I know what you mean. You go and have your breakfast.’

  ‘Right you are.’

  Howard strode towards the dining room, giving Dunn a little shamefaced grimace as he passed.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Dunn,’ said Marianne. ‘I didn’t see you there.’

  ‘Just this second come out of the dining room,’ he said, tucking his notebook back in his pocket.

  ‘This must be awful for you,’ said Charlotte. ‘Being stuck here, I mean. Are you losing work?’

  ‘We’ll miss our regular slot at the Augmented Ninth tonight, but they’ll get by without us.’

  ‘The Augmented Ninth, eh? A nightclub?’

  ‘Yes. Not too big. Knowledgeable crowd. Love their jazz.’

  ‘How delightfully glamorous. I say, Marianne, should we see about paying them for their time? We’ve had plenty of entertainment, after all, and if they’re losing work because they’re stuck here . . .’

  Marianne looked at him appraisingly. ‘We’ll have to see what we can do.’

  ‘There’s no need, really,’ said Dunn. ‘It’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, is it?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Charlotte.

  Dunn smiled. ‘Well, I’m just on my way upstairs. Shall I see you later?’

  ‘I’m sure you shall,’ said Marianne.

  Still smiling, he swept confidently past and set off up the stairs. As he turned left on the landing he could just about hear Charlotte whispering.

  ‘Do you think he heard us?’

  ‘I think he was there longer than he claims. We’ll have to be more careful.’

  ‘You’re the one who needs to be careful. I really don’t think you should go—’

  Having already reached the gallery, Dunn had no excuse to linger, so he headed for the second floor and never heard where Marianne shouldn’t go, nor why it might be cause for concern.

  Dunn returned to his room and sat on the bed. He had no reason to be there and nothing to do, but he needed to make it appear as though he really had been on his way upstairs and that he hadn’t been lurking in the Grand Hall, earwigging.

  After what he considered a suitable length of time, he stood and made his way back down.

  He returned to the dining room where he found Skins and Ellie deep in conversation, as they so often seemed to be, with Howard and Veronica.

  ‘And here’s the very man,’ said Howard.

  Dunn frowned. ‘The very man for what?’

  ‘It seems you are part of a democracy, old chap. A workers’ collective. Your pals here refused to commit to our proposal until you returned to cast your vote.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Well, you know – all for one and up the proletariat and all that. What proposal?’

  ‘The younger Bilvertons here have something to take our minds off our prolonged incarceration,’ said Skins. ‘They’re going to have one last hunt for the priest hole. You coming?’

  ‘Are you going, Ellie?’ asked Dunn.

  ‘I think they’re quite mad,’ she said. ‘But I can’t deny my interest is piqued. I said I’d tag along.’