Best Kept Secret (The Clifton Chronicles, #3)(76)

‘You should still go home.’

‘I can’t, after letting them down. The one thing they’ve always wanted was for me to go to Cambridge. They’ll never forgive me.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ said Mrs Tibbet. ‘My father always used to say, if you’ve got a problem, sleep on it before you make a decision you might later regret. Things always look rosier in the morning.’

‘But I haven’t even got anywhere to sleep.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Mrs Tibbet said, placing an arm around his shoulder. ‘You can spend the night here. But not on an empty stomach, so once you’ve unpacked, come down and join me in the kitchen.’





30


‘I’VE GOT A PROBLEM with table three,’ said the waitress as she barged through the door and into the kitchen.

‘What sort of problem, Janice?’ asked Mrs Tibbet calmly, cracking two eggs and dropping them into a large frying pan.

‘I can’t understand a word they’re saying.’

‘Ah, yes, Mr and Mrs Ferrer. I think they’re French. All you need to know is un, deux and oeuf.’ Janice didn’t look convinced. ‘Just speak slowly,’ said Mrs Tibbet, ‘and don’t raise your voice. It’s not their fault they can’t speak English.’

‘Would you like me to have a word with them?’ asked Sebastian as he put down his knife and fork.

‘Can you speak French?’ asked Mrs Tibbet, placing the pan back on the Aga.

‘Yes I can.’

‘Then be my guest.’

Sebastian rose from the kitchen table and accompanied Janice back to the dining room. All nine tables were occupied, and Janice walked across to a middle-aged couple who were seated in the far corner of the room.

‘Bonjour, monsieur,’ said Sebastian. ‘Comment puis-je vous aider?’

The startled guest gave Sebastian a puzzled look. ‘Somos espa?ol.’

‘Buenas dias, se? or. Cómo puedo ayudarle?’ said Sebastian. Janice waited while Mr and Mrs Ferrer had finished speaking to him. ‘Volveré en uno momento,’ said Sebastian, and returned to the kitchen.

‘So what do our French friends want?’ asked Mrs Tibbet, as she cracked two more eggs.

‘They’re Spanish, not French,’ said Sebastian, ‘and they’d like some lightly toasted brown bread, a couple of three-minute boiled eggs and two cups of black coffee.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes, directions to the Spanish Embassy.’

‘Janice, you serve their coffee and toast while I take care of the eggs.’

‘And what can I do?’ asked Sebastian.

‘There’s a telephone directory on the hall table. Look up the Spanish Embassy, then find a map and show them how to get there.’

‘By the way,’ Sebastian said, placing a sixpence on the table, ‘they gave me this.’

Mrs Tibbet smiled. ‘Your first tip.’

‘The first money I’ve ever earned,’ said Sebastian, pushing the coin across the table. ‘So now I only owe you three and six.’ He left the kitchen without another word and picked up the telephone directory from the hall table. He looked up the Spanish Embassy and, after finding it on a map, he told Mr and Mrs Ferrer how to get to Chesham Place. A few moments later he returned to the kitchen with another sixpence.

‘Keep this up,’ said Mrs Tibbet, ‘and I’ll have to make you a partner.’

Sebastian took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and made his way across to the sink.

‘Now what do you think you’re doing?’

‘I’m going to do the washing-up,’ he replied, as he turned on the hot tap. ‘Isn’t that what customers in films do, when they can’t pay their bill?’

‘I’ll bet that’s another first for you,’ said Mrs Tibbet, as she placed two rashers of bacon next to two fried eggs. ‘Table one, Janice, Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom from Yorkshire. I can’t understand a word they say either. So tell me, Sebastian,’ she said as Janice walked out of the kitchen, ‘can you speak any other languages?’

‘German, Italian, French and Hebrew.’

‘Hebrew? Are you Jewish?’

‘No, but one of my pals at school was, and he taught it to me during chemistry lessons.’

Mrs Tibbet laughed. ‘I think you should get yourself off to Cambridge as quickly as possible, because you’re just not qualified to be a dishwasher.’

‘I won’t be going to Cambridge, Mrs Tibbet,’ Sebastian reminded her, ‘and I’ve got no one to blame but myself. However, I do plan to visit Eaton Square and try to find out where my friend Bruno Martinez lives. He should be back from school by Friday afternoon.’

‘Good idea,’ said Mrs Tibbet. ‘He’s sure to know if you’ve been expelled or just . . . what was the other word?’

‘Rusticated,’ said Sebastian, as Janice came bustling back into the kitchen carrying two empty plates; the most sincere praise a cook can ever receive. She handed them to Sebastian before picking up two more boiled eggs.

‘Table five,’ Mrs Tibbet reminded her.

‘And table nine want more cornflakes,’ said Janice.