A Bitter Feast(36)

Having seen Grace run out of the scullery, Kit had returned to the kitchen and found Viv staring at the stacks of dirty dishes with her hands in her hair.

“I have to go,” she said, looking up at him. “To the police headquarters, with Detective Booth. They—they need me to do something. And I don’t know how I’m going to get all this mess sorted.”

Kit had seen the man in the dark suit, on the terrace with his dad and Sir Ivan, and had wondered who he was. “Can I help?”

Some of the tension seemed to go out of the chef’s shoulders. She gave him a smile that he could see took an effort. “You don’t mind?”

He shook his head. “No, honestly.”

“Okay, then. All the jars and the camping tins need to go back to the pub. If you can load them in the van, they’ll go in the dishwasher there. But all of Lady Addie’s things need to be rinsed and put in the dishwashers here. You know there’s a second one in the scullery?”

“Got it.”

Kit followed her out to the drive, where the detective was waiting, and watched them get into the black Volvo and drive away.

Puzzled about what had happened, he’d gone looking for Gemma and found her bringing in yet another tray from the garden.

“Why did Chef Viv have to go with the detective?” he asked. “She can’t have done anything wrong.”

“No, love, I’m sure she hasn’t.” Gemma deposited the tray on the scullery work top and turned to him, her expression serious. “But the people in the car that crashed into your dad last night both died, and it seems that Viv knew one of them, the man, from when she used to work in London. Detective Inspector Booth just wanted her to confirm the man’s identification.”

“She’s not in trouble, then?” Hating the squeak in his voice, Kit started unloading plates from Gemma’s tray.

“No, of course not.” Gemma touched his shoulder so that he had to look at her. “You were a big help today. You two really hit it off, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “She’s cool. I like helping,” he added, shrugging to indicate that it was no big deal. He did a good bit of the cooking at home, and sometimes he even helped their friend Wesley Howard in the kitchen of the café where Wesley worked part-time. But today with Viv had been different. He’d felt, not just important, but . . . essential. That was it. Like she really couldn’t have managed without him—and her a real professional chef.

“I’m sorry this weekend isn’t turning out the way we’d planned,” Gemma said, shifting the last of the plates.

“It’s okay.” Kit thought of the walks he and his dad had planned, just the two of them. They’d downloaded maps and worked out routes, and even filled day packs with compasses and snacks and bottles of water.

When he asked why they needed compasses, his dad had teased him. “You can’t do everything on your phone. It’s the country. You might not even have a signal.”

Obviously, those walks were not going to happen. But if Kit had been disappointed, just for a bit, it had scared him to see his dad with his head and hand bandaged. And that was before he knew that the other people in the crash had died. He felt stupid for having gone on to Doug about a new car. “Dad’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” he said to Gemma now, feeling the knife prick of worry.

“He’s fine. Just a little banged up.” Gemma put her arm round him and gave him a quick squeeze. “He’s having a rest. I’ll go and check on him as soon as we get things squared away here.”

They had worked in companionable silence, rinsing and filling the dishwashers, the clink of china and glassware a counterpoint to the regular chatter of voices from the front hall as the Talbots said goodbye to their guests. The ladies from the village who’d helped with the serving left as well, and through the open scullery door, he heard faint bangs and thumps as Doug and Melody and the gardener, Joe, folded chairs and broke down tables.

Roz, the blond woman who seemed to work for Lady Addie, came in with an armload of tablecloths for the washing machine. She looked a little flustered, Kit thought. Behind her was Melody, with another bundle of linens.

“Has anyone seen Grace?” Melody asked. “I told Viv I’d drive the van down to the pub and take Grace home as well.”

“I’ve no idea,” snapped Roz. “I’ve enough to do without child minding.”

Kit saw Gemma’s eyebrows go up at her tone. “I’ve put Toby and Charlotte in the sitting room with a video,” she said, mildly, “but Grace wasn’t with them.”

“I’ll find her,” Kit volunteered, feeling suddenly hemmed in by the air of tension in the room.

He went out the scullery door onto the terrace. The tables and chairs had vanished and the lawn looked as pristine as a bowling green. Doug stood at the edge, his back to the house, deep in discussion with Joe. The earlier spatter of rain had stopped and the sky had begun to clear; the rain had brought a little chill to the air.

“Has anyone seen Grace?” Kit called.

“Grace?” Doug turned, looking puzzled.

“The kid with the glasses.” Too late, Kit wondered if Doug would think that was rude, but Doug had already turned back to the view.

“Not lately,” said Joe.

“What about the dogs?”