‘I make you a goulash, a special goulash.’
‘If you prefer to call it that, certainly. And perhaps you could use up that rather hard bit of cheese in making some cheese straws. I think some people may come in this evening for drinks.’
‘This evening? What do you mean, this evening?’
‘At half-past six.’
‘But that is the time in the paper? Who should come then?Why should they come?’
‘They’re coming to the funeral,’ said Miss Blacklock with a twinkle. ‘That’ll do now, Mitzi. I’m busy. Shut the door after you,’ she added firmly.
‘And that’s settledher for the moment,’ she said as the door closed behind a puzzled-looking Mitzi.
‘You are so efficient, Letty,’ said Miss Bunner admiringly.
Chapter 3. At 6.30 p.m.
‘Well, here we are, all set,’ said Miss Blacklock. She looked round the double drawing-room with an appraising eye. The rose-patterned chintzes-the two bowls of bronze chrysanthemums, the small vase of violets and the silver cigarette-box on a table by the wall, the tray of drinks on the centre table.
Little Paddocks was a medium-sized house built in the early Victorian style. It had a long shallow veranda and green shuttered windows. The long, narrow drawing-room which lost a good deal of light owing to the veranda roof had originally had double doors at one end leading into a small room with a bay window. A former generation had removed the double doors and replaced them with portieres of velvet. Miss Blacklock had dispensed with the portieres so that the two rooms had become definitely one. There was a fireplace each end, but neither fire was lit although a gentle warmth pervaded the room.
‘You’ve had the central heating lit,’ said Patrick.
Miss Blacklock nodded.