Devil's Food by Kerry Greenwood

clever and very touching. She mixed the brew to her liking, then approached Goss and wrapped her in her long shawl so that the girl’s head lay on Meroe’s shoulder. Then with her little finger dipped in honey she touched Goss’s lower lip. The sweetness must have penetrated the crying, because a little red tongue slipped out and licked up the honey. Then gradually Meroe substituted her brew for the honey, and though there was a small grimace it went down like magic. Goss drank the whole cupful and by the time she had finished it, she was no longer crying. Her breathing had eased.
    ‘You will now eat what Corinna gives you,’ she told her patient, ‘while I attend to your friend.’
    I sat down on the table and handed Goss a spoon and a Cafe Delicious banana cream, a speciality. It was a small pie containing custard, fruit and cream and topped with meringue. I rationed myself to one a week and I knew that they melted in the mouth. I was expecting a struggle with Goss, who dieted even more strenuously than Kylie, but she took the dish and ate the pie in little mouse-like nibbles. Tears, for some reason, pricked my eyes and I looked over to see how Daniel was managing.
    Meroe had just finished with Kylie, who had also stopped crying. At last. Daniel released her and fetched the pie, and she, too, ate as biddably as a lamb. She even put the plate down on the floor for Heckle, who had indicated that his diet lacked cream. They both looked as bedraggled as if they had been fighting in a gutter. Goss’s hair hung down in strings. Kylie’s face was still flushed.
    ‘Now, ladies, we are taking you home to your apartment,’ said Meroe evenly. She seldom sounded severe, but when she said that something was going to happen, there was never any sense that it could be evaded. ‘You need to sleep. Come along now. Who can stand up?’
    Goss managed it, leaning on my shoulder. Kylie collapsed and Daniel carried her.
    We got them into the lift and conveyed the two poor little waifs to their apartment and Goss managed to open the door before she fell on the couch. Daniel was excused and returned to help Jason with the real world of bread and deliveries. Meroe and I did a little elementary housework — making two beds, for instance, clearing a path through the underwear and shoes to the said beds, trying to find some food in their kitchen. We were not conspicuously successful. They had a lot of dried soups and so on, all guaranteed 150% fat free (and how much sugar?). They did have real coffee and tea, and a lot of herbal teas in pretty packets featuring dragons and unicorns. And a whole box of hangover remedies. I put on the kettle to make Meroe and me some coffee. There were plenty of cups but the dishes had not been done recently. I loaded the dishwasher and switched it on.
    I spent some minutes reassuring Tori, their kitten, who clearly hadn’t been fed yet this morning and was sitting on my foot telling me all about it. As an apology, she was about to get a tin of that very expensive cat food which makes a human, on reading the contents, think that a diet of cat food might not be so bad at that. My mouth watered as I dished up Seafood Symphony, with selected prawns and salmon in a lobster bisque aspic. So did Tori’s, for she mewed the plaintive mew of a fluffy and charmingly blonde kitten to whom nothing had previously been denied. I put down the plate and found that her water dish was empty. Dry and empty. The girls loved Tori with a passion. How could they leave her thirsty?
    I left the kitchen — which was, of course, otherwise clean, being hardly ever used — to find Meroe very gently washing Goss’s face with a make-up removing wipe. Goss seemed to be asleep now. Her pulse was good. Her eyes were shut. She murmured a little as Meroe tended her like a mother cat. I did not trust my touch so I allowed Meroe to remove both of those panda-faces while I browsed through the bathroom cabinet. I did not think that my shop