The Body at the Tower - By Y. S. Lee Page 0,56

to the fruit crumble so I brung it too, and a jug of cream.”

“It smells wonderful. Thank you.”

Nancy’s swift hands dealt out the dishes. Once she’d distributed the food and drink, she stood back and surveyed the desk with satisfaction. “I s’pose, being as your lad’s here, you won’t be needing company with your dinner tonight?”

“Er – no, thank you.”

She gave a good-natured pout. “I’ll come for to clear away in an hour, then, sir.”

“Very good.”

Tipping them a wink, she tucked the trays under a strong, dimpled arm and sashayed towards the door, skirts swaying in an imaginary breeze. For a full minute after the door closed behind her there was perfect silence. Mary stared hard at the feast laid before her. It looked appetizing and substantial and utterly luxurious, but she suddenly wanted none of it.

James cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well. Smells good,” he said.

“You’ve already said that,” she said acidly. Even as she spoke, she knew she was being, childish. What did she care, what James did with pretty barmaids? But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “It’s no wonder you like Mrs Higgs’s cooking.”

There was an expression she didn’t like in James’s eyes. It looked suspiciously like satisfaction. “The cooking, among other things,” he said casually. “I often nip over for a pint in the snug.”

She would not rise to the bait. “I’m sure you do,” she heard herself say.

“It’s a friendly pub,” he drawled, brandishing his knife and fork. “Quiet. Select. And very friendly. Or have I said that already too?”

She poked a slender bean with more force than necessary. It was perfectly cooked, and she resented this too. “I’m sure it’s very pleasant.”

“It is.”

“Good.”

“Very welcoming.”

“I get the point.”

They ate in silence for several minutes, and despite her jealousy Mary discovered that she was ravenous. Table manners, she decided, were an affectation invented by those who’d never been hungry.

James took his time, cleaning his plate. It was no small achievement, as Mrs Higgs’s portions were indeed enormous. When, at long last, he was done, he sat back with a sigh – a smug sigh, thought Mary – and took a deep draught of beer. “Aren’t you glad you came?” he asked, his eyes gleaming over the rim of the tankard.

She pushed aside her lingering resentment. This was no time to behave childishly. “I suppose it depends,” she said, “on what we discuss and how we decide to proceed.”

He examined his pint with care. His voice was carefully neutral as he said, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She was prepared for this, at least. “It seems to me that we’d do well to share information. Whatever you learn about site safety can be helpful to me, in my attempt to understand life as an errand boy. And in my role as Mark, I’ve noticed and overheard a few things that may be useful to you.”

“Such as?”

“After Harkness stopped Keenan from thrashing me on Monday, Keenan all but threatened him. Said he’d not forget the incident, as though planning to get his own back somehow.”

“Hmph.” James pondered for a moment, then leaned forward and fixed her with a look so intent she began to blush. “Now, what about you?”

“Wh-what d’you mean?”

“Well, you seem rather intent on a partnership here. Teamwork. Whatever you care to name it. That’s new for you. And you’ll pardon my saying so, but you don’t play well with others. I believe we established that the last time we tried to work together.”

Mary swallowed hard. “You’re right. I didn’t think through some of my decisions on the Thorold case, and I ought to have shared more information with you.”

He feigned surprise. “An admission of imperfection? How unlike you, Miss Quinn.”

“Pot and kettle, as you said earlier.”

“True enough, and thus even more reason you ought to be resisting a partnership, rather than proposing one.”

He was right: she needed his help more than he did hers, this time. She sat for a moment in silence, steeling herself for the confession, and then sighed. “All right. You want the real, humiliating reason I need to work with you again?”

“You’re terrible at flattery, as well – did you know?”

She ignored that. “The men don’t trust Mark. He’s too well-spoken, too inexperienced, too – well, too not one of them. They’re very guarded when I’m about and while I’ve managed to pick up a few bits of information, it’s nothing like what I’d hoped.”

“Ah. Finally, we have the ugly truth: you need me.”

“I need to share information with you. I need