So now we return to Hake Hall ....

Helena Ruby Tremble sat at the long scrubbed refectory table in the cavernous kitchen of Hake Hall sipping coffee whilst discussing the floral requirements for the Bavarian evening with Isobel Lamington-Krill. Isobel’s intended extravaganza should, if indeed any title were required, more accurately have been entitled a Germanic evening, but Helena Ruby did not feel it her place to correct Isobel’s geographical inaccuracies. If Mrs Lamington-Krill wanted Alpine cow bells hung from the swags of hops on the banisters, then cow bells hung from the swags there would be. It seemed that Nigel’s contacts in the City could easily be relied upon to procure same. On environmental grounds, Isobel was steered away from the charming notion of having gentians and edelweiss featuring heavily in the table centres. On the grounds of self respect, she was firmly assured that having waiting staff dressed in traditional Tyrolean garb complete with plaited hair coils for the ladies and lederhosen for the men, was a non-starter (for Helena Ruby would be among their number, and even she had her pride).
“Oh very well, but I do think it’s a shame – it would have been such fun. Anyway, I see an overall yellow theme for the main displays, Mrs Tremble. My Uncle Theobald is in possession of a stuffed bear which he is happy to lend me. I thought it would be fun to put him, the bear I mean, (Isobel giggled) in the dining hall. I don’t know whether you could produce some sort of garland for the thing?”
“I’ll order all the flowers I need next week. May I get them delivered here for the Friday, then they’ll still be fresh for me to do on Saturday – it would be best if they could be left in the cellar. And while I’m here, is Turtle available to assist with removing the downstairs drapes? The cleaners are collecting them tomorrow so they’ll be back by Friday.”
“Go ahead with the flowers Mrs Tremble, and if you think of anything else we’ll need, just let me know, won’t you. Use the Floral Artists’ Guild in Mackerel. They’re so much more imaginative than Fenestra’s Floristry, and more co-operative too.” (There had been a falling out between the Lamington-Krill household and Fenestra Bingley-Schwarz, a hard-bitten northern woman who had disparate business interests in the most unlikely quarters.) “I have an account there and they know me.”
“OK Mrs L-K.”
“And I’ll tell Turtle to see you about the drapes after lunch. Well I must get on. I have a hair appointment, then lunch and I promised India I’d get her the books on her reading list that she couldn’t find.”
“Will she be attending the Bavarian evening?” enquired Helena Ruby.
“I hope so, and I said she could bring some friends if she wanted. I do hope she brings that a nice young Ferringby-Purcell lad. I believe his parents are big in laminates.”

India Lamington-Krill, only daughter of Nigel and Isobel, was studying social sciences and media at the University of the North East Regions. Although neither parent would say as much, this was a disappointment to them as they had naturally assumed that their not unintelligent daughter, upon whom had been lavished a very expensive education, would aspire to Oxbridge where she could happily mix with her own kind. She had other ideas.

Helena Ruby Tremble drained her limited edition Bistra Blashworth coffee tankard, stood and smoothed her skirt and thought to herself that she really could do with losing a little weight as her eyes fell upon the straining fibres encircling her midriff.
“I’ll be getting on then. I’ll see Cook later to discuss the catering arrangements in detail.”
“Right-o Mrs T.”

Helena Ruby opened the back door of the Lodge and stepped into the kitchen. D’you want lunch Ron?” she called. Silence greeted her. Denholm trotted out with wagging tail and she scooped him up affectionately. “Where is the old bugger?” she said into his silky ear. “Ron?” she shouted again up the stairs, but still no response. Then Helena Ruby noticed the still warm tea-bag left steaming slightly on the draining board and assumed she had missed his lunch break, a suspicion confirmed by a sausage roll packet and sweet wrappers jammed into the overflowing bin. She took a deep breath, deposited Denholm then heaved out the bin liner and its contents and dropped the overladen sack into the large dustbin hidden behind a badly trimmed laurel hedge just outside the door. It occurred to Helena Ruby then that Ron lavished more care on the Lamington-Krill household than he did theirs, but then he was paid to do it.

Helena Ruby felt her jacket pockets to make sure she had her keys and having reassured herself, idly removed a card from the left pocket. It was Jolyon Urqhart’s business card. Her heart felt as if it had begun to beat fit to burst and her hand started trembling slightly. Images of that astonishing night came back to her. She took several deep breaths to calm herself. Had he really meant what he said? “Don’t be so stupid Helena Ruby,” she said aloud to herself. She became overwhelmed by the feeling that she was a supremely foolish, overweight, unremarkable woman. As if anyone would look twice at her. Denholm looked up at her quizzically. In a grand gesture she crumpled the card and went to drop it into the kitchen bin only to realise that she hadn’t replaced the liner. Thus she dropped the card back in her pocket and went swiftly about her business in an effort to quell a rising feeling, almost of humiliation. She sighed heavily as she removed the general debris left carelessly, as always, by Ron, then made herself a piece of cheese on toast and put it under the grill. As Helena Ruby sat at the table sipping tea, she became seized with the determination to improve her diet and to take herself and her life into hand. She had only taken a few bites of her toast and looking down at Denholm sitting bright-eyed at her feet, said “Right, young man. This is going into the bin. Things are going to change.”

How true Helena Ruby, how true