Score!

‘Any of us, I suppose, except Oscar, and Valentin, and darling Rozzy, who was at her vile husband’s birthday party,’ Lucy got a packet of shortbread out of the cupboard, ‘and Mikhail, who was far too hammered to do anything.’

James, who’d been corrugating his long nose in search of fleas, opened a long yellow eye as Lucy took off the wrapping.

‘Lovely dog,’ said Karen from a safe distance.

‘They’re known as gazehounds because they hunt by sight rather than scent, and funnily enough when I was taking him for a quick run round Hangman’s Wood after the tennis he suddenly bounded forward, wagging his tail as though he recognized someone.’

‘Who does he like?’

‘Well, Tabitha, Wolfie, Baby, Granny, Flora, Rozzy, of course. He adores Alpheus too. Alpheus loves dogs, and misses his German shepherd, Mr Bones.’

‘Tristan?’ asked Gablecross innocently.

‘Oh yes,’ Lucy’s voice softened, ‘James adores Tristan, but it couldn’t have been Tristan, he was in France.’

‘Mikhail says he saw him.’

‘He’d have seen him in quadruple, he was so drunk.’

Gablecross liked Lucy. She looked so reassuringly normal. Her voice after the initial screaming was so soft, he liked her large sludgy green eyes, and her turned-up nose and big generous mouth, plenty of openings in an open face.

‘Rozzy Pringle adores Tristan, doesn’t she?’

‘Not difficult,’ said Lucy quickly. ‘He’s been so kind to her, and I don’t know what we’d have done without her. She sewed up Flora’s puppet fox when some fiend cut it to pieces.

‘A lot of unpleasant things have been happening,’ she went on.

As the kettle boiled and switched itself off, she told them about the slug pellets, and the champagne that burnt a hole in the tablecloth.

‘What happened to the glass?’

‘It shattered as Rannaldini took a sip out of it. Dame Hermione sang a top note. Rannaldini doesn’t normally drink before conducting, maybe Hermione meant it for me and launched into song when she realized he’d picked up the glass. Oh, God.’

‘Who brought the glass in?’ asked Karen.

‘I don’t remember,’ lied Lucy. ‘We were so busy that night. I’d always assumed it was Rannaldini, or Clive on his instructions doing these horrible things, but now…’ Her voice trailed off.

‘People talk to you,’ said Karen admiringly.

‘Like they talk to minicab drivers and hairdressers,’ said Lucy, with a shrug. ‘There’s no eye-contact. They tend to babble things out because they’re nervous of going on the set, and you’re not likely to meet them socially after the movie,’ she added, with a trace of bitterness, ‘so they feel they can let their hair down.’

‘Does Rozzy Pringle’s husband know she’s got cancer?’

‘Oh, no,’ whispered Lucy in horror. ‘Who told you that?’

‘We’re not free to reveal our sources,’ said Gablecross sententiously.

‘Oh, goodness.’ Lucy collapsed on the bench seat, too close to James, triggering off a low growl and a flash of long fangs. ‘Oh, poor Rozzy, she’s frantic for people not to know. It could finish her career. I have to cover for her each time she goes for treatment. Oh, please don’t tell anyone.’ With frantically trembling hands she gathered up the empty blue mugs she’d put in front of Gablecross and Karen and shoved them back in the cupboard.

‘Who else knows?’

‘Only Tristan. I shouldn’t have told him, Rozzy would kill me, but I was so upset. Tristan was wonderful, he offered her a part in Der Rosenkavalier, way in the future, which she’ll never be able to take up, but just to keep up her spirits.’

‘Tristan de Montigny has admitted he was in England on Sunday night,’ said Karen, noticing Lucy’s eyes darting in terror. ‘Said he was looking for locations in the Forest of Dean.’

‘That’s utterly logical,’ gabbled Lucy. ‘He hadn’t slept for weeks, keeping the whole show on the road.’

‘Talked a lot to you, didn’t he?’

‘Probably because I didn’t want to know my motivation for putting on blusher.’

‘Women got very jealous he spent so much time with you,’ persisted Karen. ‘But he doesn’t seem to have wanted to sleep with any of them.’

‘He was too involved in the film,’ muttered Lucy. ‘Goodness, I’ve forgotten to make you those coffees.’ She switched on the kettle again. ‘He didn’t want to sleep with me or anyone else,’ she stammered, ‘because he’s in love with my friend, Tabitha, and felt he could talk to me about her.’

‘Could he have killed Rannaldini?’

‘Certainly not, he adored him,’ said Lucy, too quickly. ‘He put up with murder — oh, God — from him.’

‘Was he in love with him?’

‘What a horrible thing to say!’

‘You claim he adored your friend Tab, but the night he got off with her Rannaldini made him back off. Any idea why?’

‘No,’ squeaked Lucy, getting three cups out of the cupboard again with a terrific clatter. Had they found out about Maxim raping Delphine?

‘Could Rannaldini have threatened to out Tristan?’ asked Gablecross.