Page 26 of The Midnight Carousel

While Sir Malcolm pours a round of drinks, his back turned to them, James smiles at Maisie. She frowns back. Her dislike of him hasn’t mellowed over the past nine years. Wide shouldered and muscly, he dominates the drawing room with his overconfidence.

Accepting the tumbler of whisky from Sir Malcolm, James raises a toast. ‘To reunions,’ he says. ‘And remembering those we’ve lost… especially dear Catherine.’

Sir Malcolm looks emotional. ‘She was lucky to have a cousin like you to look up to.’

Remembering Miss Catherine’s reaction to James at Clacton, Maisie silently questions Sir Malcolm’s perception of the bond between the cousins. James has grown into a charmer, and Sir Malcolm is sentimental enough to lap it up.

He takes the armchair directly facing James, while she hovers in the doorway, fully intending to depart as soon as the opportunity presents itself. For a moment, Sir Malcolm stares at his drink, sombre-faced. Then he rouses himself and gives James a smile.

‘And how’s your family?’ he asks. ‘Your father, sisters– and especially your mother. Your aunt Lydia was always very fond of her sister.’

Maisie recalls the portrait of Lady Lydia, Sir Malcolm’s dead wife, once in Jesserton’s music room, and now hanging in his bedroom here.

‘They’re fine, Sir Malcolm, fine. The war was difficult for my mother, of course, with her son on the frontline. But I returned.’

James leans back in his armchair, clearly already at home at Fairweather House.

‘You saw action, then?’ Sir Malcolm asks, looking impressed.

‘My regiment became known as a force to be reckoned with,’ James boasts.

Sir Malcolm laughs. ‘Good for you.’

Maisie watches James grin as Sir Malcolm leans forward and claps him on the knee. His hair is shorter than before, and he now sports a well-trimmed moustache.

‘It was the war that made me realize you have to seize your chances. I’d been thinking about America for a while because it’s a country with so much going for it,’ he explains.

‘So, when I saw a story about the vanished niece of an actress, together with a photograph of you, Sir Malcolm, it was a sign that perhaps I should scout out the place before making a decision either way.’ He glances up at Maisie.

‘It’s funny, I didn’t even know that Maisie was here with you, until I saw her name in the article.

There it was, in a paragraph about the witnesses.

It must have been an unpleasant experience all round. ’

Sir Malcolm managed to keep the information about her arrest out of the newspapers, and James has no idea it was so much worse than unpleasant.

Maisie looks at the floor. She can feel James’s eyes boring into her. Recalling her last day at Jesserton, her lie about possibly returning to Canvey Island. I’ll have you one day, Maisie , he’d laughed.

‘Aren’t you going to sit down?’ Sir Malcolm asks sharply, evidently noticing that she is backing out of the room.

‘Actually, Sir Malcolm, I should really return to work. I only came in to tell you that I’ve invited Detective Bisset for dinner tomorrow.’

For a second, his eyebrows knit together, and Maisie thinks that he might grumble about the imposition. Then his eyes light up.

‘Splendid idea. James you must come too. I’ll ask Hugo and Nancy. My brother will want to catch up with you and hear all about your stories from the frontline.’

James wears a smile of triumph. Is he, rather than Laurent, the trouble from across the ocean that Madame Rose warned of?

By 7 a.m. the next morning, the household’s preparations are in full swing: the best china has been removed from the storeroom and washed by Clara; Eric is cleaning the dining-room chairs with soap and water; Peggy Mae is shelling shrimp and slicing onions.

Even Arnold has arrived to polish the cutlery before Silver Kingdom opens.

James’s arrival has unsettled Maisie. Though they barely crossed paths in England, she knows enough about him to have reached the conclusion that he’s full of himself, with eyes that seem to be on her every time she looks up. If a way to uninvite him had presented itself, she would have taken it.

Instead, she lays place names in strategic positions around the dining table.

This is followed by a frenzy of flower arranging.

Soon the scent of lilies mixes with the smell of garlic frying in butter, filling every room like a rich perfume.

After a full day of preparations, she is heading to her bedroom to change for dinner when Sir Malcolm stops her in the upstairs hallway.

‘Please do be polite to all our guests tonight, Maisie. Whatever possessed you to snub James like that yesterday? It’s not like you.’

She takes a deep breath. ‘I’m just concerned that his timing is a little off, Sir Malcolm. All this business with the missing children, and I’ve only just been released from the lock-up.’

Sir Malcolm raises an eyebrow.

‘Well, it’s not like he knew about your arrest,’ he blusters. ‘And he’s Lydia’s nephew, and one doesn’t turn one’s back on family.’

Clearly nostalgic, he’s been taken in by James’s smooth confidence, even charm, and doesn’t seem in the mood to be reminded that not once has he mentioned James or any of the family since leaving England.

She mutters an apology and hurries away, cursing James under her breath.

One night, she tells herself, one night of having to endure him and then she will make sure to avoid him for the rest of his stay.

Taking her time, Maisie attends to her hair, twisting the thick coil into a knot, then adds an amber clip-hat.

She dabs lavender oil on her wrists and neck next, working the excess into her hands.

She slips on her velvet pumps, loops a pendant around her neck.

As she reaches the bottom of the staircase, James appears.

‘Looks like you can’t get away from me,’ he smirks.

Her revulsion flares.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ she retorts, sweeping past him.