Read Arsenic For Tea: A Murder Most Unladylike Mystery (A Wells and Wong Mystery) for Free Online Page B

Daisy’s mother, he had still done it, and Daisy’s mother had kissed him back. I remembered all the arguments between Lord and Lady Hastings that week, and knew that, whatever Daisy said, the situation between them was very serious indeed. What if Daisy’s mother wanted to run away with Mr Curtis? What would Daisy do then?
    ‘So, Watson,’ said Daisy, ‘we must absolutely watch Mr Curtis like hawks tomorrow. We can’t let him out of our sight!’
    ‘But it’s your birthday!’ I said.
    ‘Never mind birthdays! Some things are more important. Besides, I’ve had plenty of birthdays already.’
    There was a sudden banging on the door.
    ‘Let us in, Squashy, you horror!’ shouted Bertie. ‘Don’t be an ass, come out! What are you doing in there?’
    ‘Brushing our teeth, of course!’ shouted Daisy. ‘Oh, all
right
. We’re coming out.’
    She unlocked the door, and we went out onto the landing. Bertie was there, arms crossed, and beside him was Stephen. I blushed to be seen coming out of a bathroom by two boys, but Daisy merely sniffed and looked unconcerned, as though she had just emerged from a ballroom.
    ‘You’re a queer fish, Squashy,’ said Bertie when he saw us. ‘I heard the two of you talking. What was it about?’
    ‘You, and how vile you are,’ said Daisy rudely. ‘Poor old Stephen, forced to spend time in your odious presence. Now clear off and stop sticking your nose in.’
    Bertie scowled and made a horrible face at her, but Stephen smiled at me. I still felt rather awkward, but I smiled back.
    ‘Why does he call you Squashy?’ I asked curiously when we were back in the nursery. Beanie, who was already in bed, waved at us.
    ‘According to
him
, I was a fat baby,’ said Daisy. ‘That isn’t true, of course. I was perfect. And anyway,
he
had to wear an eye-patch for his squint until he was ten. He thinks it’s terribly amusing to call me . . . that name . . .
now
, but if he ever gets engaged I shall call him Squinty in front of his fiancée and we’ll see if she still wants to marry him then.’
    Daisy put on her nightie and got into her bed, which creaked under her. She blew out the candle on her bedside table – a funny three-legged thing which had once been green but was now not much of anything – rolled over so that her nose was against the peeling yellow wallpaper (a circus scene, with elephants and lions and ringmasters chasing each other in circles), and began to breathe as though she were asleep. Kitty crept into Beanie’s bed to whisper with her, but I knew that Daisy was still very much awake. I wanted to speak to her – but was not quite sure what I should say.
    I thought of my bedroom at home, all smooth and white, with the fan going round and round soothingly above my head, and the voices and chiming glasses from my parents’ drinks parties drifting up the stairs. Here the blankets itched, and though I had three of them I still shivered. The nursery walls were all crooked, the house creaked and grumbled, and something shrieked outside. I remembered the first night I had spent here, when I thought it was a baby, but Daisy told me it was only a fox. All at once I longed to go home.
    It was odd, because I should have been enjoying myself – it was the hols, and I was with Daisy, after all – but I was feeling more and more homesick. Suddenly I couldn’t wait until Daisy’s party was over.



1
    The next morning I was woken by something sitting very heavily on my stomach.
    I gasped and opened my eyes.
    ‘Wotcher, Watson,’ said Daisy, leaning over so that her hair tickled my face. ‘It’s my birthday. Come on, get up – we’ve got a villain to unmask. Look, I brought provisions.’
    She dropped an apple and an English muffin, leaking butter and honey, onto my front. A shining oily patch spread across my nightie before I could snatch it away.
    ‘Daisy!’ I said, eating the muffin in large sticky bites to get rid of it. ‘What’s