‘I’m going out,’ she said.

‘You will not!’ The old woman strained at the chair’s arm rests trying to lift herself. ‘Not with that man. I forbid it!’

Verna Reid laughed. She thrust the tea out. Lady Catherine took it and tea slopped into the saucer. Two spots of high colour burned suddenly in her parchment pale cheeks. She slammed the cup down, tea sprayed and bits of thin china skidded across the floor. The dark woman laughed again.

‘Get on with your silly chat,’ she said and walked out of the room.

The old woman fought for control. She blinked and plucked at her scrawny neck. I got up and pulled the trolley across, poured her more tea and handed it to her.

‘Thank you.’ She took the tea then reached out and took a buttered scone. Her hand was rock steady. ‘I’m hard to work for,’ she said. ‘You’ll find that out.’

‘I still haven’t said I’ll work for you.’

‘We won’t fence, Mr Hardy,’ she said around her scone. She did it without any offensive noise. Breeding. ‘I’ll pay your seventy-five dollars a day and my accountant will look over your expenses. If they are not too ridiculous they’ll be met.’

It had been a lean six months with more going out than coming in. The Falcon’s clutch needed overhauling and the stack of bills at home was reaching half way up the spike. I needed every cent of the seventy-five a day and she could see it.

‘I’ll need a retainer of two hundred and fifty dollars,’ I said.

Her tea cup rang against the saucer and she let out a short, high laugh. ‘All right, Mr Hardy, all right. The last word is yours, you’ll get a cheque when you leave. Now perhaps I can get on with what I have to tell you. Have some tea.’

I shook my head.

‘Bettina had a long illness after the marriage ended, she travelled abroad with my husband and myself on one occasion and with a friend on another. I believe her to be unstable, she was a disappointment to us.’