Page 87 of Fire Must Burn
‘Oh goody, that does sound like fun,’ said Gwen. ‘Now,would it be possible for us to pay our respects to our hostess before dinner?’
‘Mrs Dorter is busy in the kitchen right now,’ said Pam. ‘But you should have a chance to say hello at dinner. No need to dress up, by the way. We’re away from all that. Let me take you to your room.’
She took a pair of keys out from under the counter and gave one to each of them, then picked up their suitcases and led them up a narrow wooden staircase to the first floor. This let out on a long central hallway with rooms on both sides.
‘We have bathrooms at each end,’ she said, indicating them. ‘Please keep your baths under five inches of water, as the hot water is limited. The stairway and hall lights are on timers, so be sure to press the switch each time. You’re in room four. And here we are.’
She opened the door to reveal a small but cheerfully appointed room with two single beds across from each other, separated by a shared bedside table under a wide window. The walls were covered with a cream-coloured wallpaper with burgundy stripes decorated with a paisley pattern. There was a small basin set into the wall by the cupboard, with a dressing table and chair next to it.
Pam placed the suitcases on small cedar chests by the foot of each bed, then stepped forwards to draw some muslin curtains and opened the window. The room looked out over a vast meadow beyond a fence. The pond was visible fifty yards or so behind it.
‘We finally got in some screens so the insects won’t get in,’ she said. ‘Unless Miss McTague would prefer them open so they could visit her instead of the other way round.’
‘No, thank you,’ said Iris, laughing.
‘We don’t have alarm clocks in the room, as you may have noticed,’ said Pam, ‘but Early Ernie will take care of that.’
‘Early Ernie?’
‘He is our resident rooster and very reliable,’ said Pam. ‘We will see you at dinner, ladies.’
She closed the door behind her as she left.
Gwen pulled a folding travel alarm clock from her suitcase and tossed it to Iris.
‘Set it for the beetling hour, just in case Ernie decides to sleep in,’ she said.
‘Thanks,’ said Iris, winding it. ‘I wonder how the twins fit into the household.’
‘Maybe relatives, maybe locals,’ said Gwen. ‘Let’s have a wash and go down to dinner.’
The other guests were all couples who greeted the two women cordially, the men casting surreptitious and admiring glances, and the other women sizing them up as potential competition as the admiring glances of the men were not as surreptitious as they had thought. Pam circulated through the room, taking orders for cocktails, then left them to mingle and converse.
Iris and Gwen found themselves separated over the course of the cocktail hour as the men herded them into opposite corners of the room and took the lead in the conversations. Gwen was repeatedly sounded out as to her relationship with Iris, or Mary as she remembered to call her, and her repeated insistences that they were merely friends and travelling companions were met with knowing glances and raised eyebrows.
To her relief, Pam finally reappeared in the doorway.
‘Dinner is ready, ladies and gentlemen,’ she announced. ‘This way, if you please.’
Pam led them into the dining room which had a long, rough-hewn table covered with a simple linen cloth. They took their places, Iris sitting on the side of Gwen away from the kitchen door, hoping to shield herself from view. Pam picked up a small dinner bell and rang it. A moment later, Mrs Dorter entered and stood at the head of the table.
Her hair had been transformed from a grey-streaked bun to an elaborate, brunette coif, Iris noticed. Her frock was of a dark-green velour with white laced trim, and her nails were perfectly manicured and painted a deep red. This was a different woman than the severe, dour servant Iris remembered. This was a woman who reigned over her domain, with a smile that exuded confidence even before she had uttered a single word.
‘Good evening, and welcome to Dorter’s Inn,’ she said. ‘Iam Mrs Hermia Dorter, your hostess. We welcome you to what we hope will be a restful and revivifying experience, and the first step towards that will be tonight’s feast. We will be serving an apple and cress salad with a herb dressing, with all the ingredients gathered fresh from our gardens and orchards. There will be a selection of local cheeses, followed by a red mullet soup, then trout béarnaise with asparagus. We make our own scrumpy, and will finish if you still have any room left with Knickerbocker Glory for pudding. Bon appétit!’
With that, Pam rolled in a trolley with salad plates and a large bowl. Mrs Dorter began serving, keeping the conversation going as she did so. She managed not to delve too deeply into people’s personal lives, noticed Gwen, sticking to local politics and gossip in Bath and Bristol.
‘We have two Londoners with us, I hear,’ she said as the soup was brought in. ‘Mrs Bainbridge and Miss McTague, you are most welcome. What do you do there?’
‘As little as possible,’ replied Gwen. ‘And we’re completely exhausted as a result.’
‘Hopefully this will be a restorative,’ said Mrs Dorter. ‘How did you chance to hear about us?’
‘Oh gosh, who was it?’ said Gwen, turning to Iris.
‘One of your friends put us on to it,’ said Iris. ‘Lucy something, I think you said?’
‘Oh, yes, Lucinda,’ said Gwen. ‘Our children were at the same birthday party, and we escaped to the drinks cabinet together. She said you were their housekeeper or something back in the day.’