Expose! by Hannah Dennison

they’d been sold.
    I felt sad. I knew that ever since Mary Berry’s farming husband had been fatally electrocuted while trimming a roadside hedge, the two women had been struggling to make ends meet. I’d even persuaded Topaz—Dairy Cottage was on Grange land—to allow the ladies to live there rent free, but even so, it can’t have been easy for them. This lavish dinner must have cost Eunice a lot of money. I resolved to pretend to love every mouthful.
    The refectory table had been laid with what I guessed was their best china—a complete set of matching plates and tureens carrying the Asiatic pheasant pattern—and polished sterling-silver cutlery. There were three chairs on either side with an elbow chair at each end.
    Instinctively, I was drawn to a beautiful silver centerpiece of a male and female mallard swimming in a lake of solid silver. Out of habit, I picked it up, carried it to the window where the light was better, and turned it over. I could just make out the four distinguishing marks—Britannia and the lion’s head were fairly standard—though I couldn’t read the exact date mark or maker. This piece was definitely valuable and was most probably a family heirloom that had been passed down from generation to generation. I felt a quiver of excitement. Hadn’t something similar to this sold at Sotheby’s last year for thousands and thousands of pounds?
    Dad would be thrilled to hear about this treasure, but I could never tell him. Although I shared his passionate love of silver—I had no desire to join the family business and couldn’t even begin to imagine stealing this from my poverty-stricken hosts.
    All thoughts of the silver mallards vanished when I realized the table was set for four. I knew some widows still laid a place for their deceased loved ones. I hoped I didn’t have to conduct an imaginary conversation with Gordon Berry as in “He’ll always be with us in spirit.”
    “What are you waiting for?” shouted Eunice. Her fer rety face peered through the hatch, then disappeared from sight.
    I hurried over. “Coming!”
    “Mary! Hand her the herrings!”
    Mary Berry passed me two plates of gelatinous-looking roll-mop herrings. Each one was garnished with a tiny sprig of what looked like chickweed. “No one can eat this muck,” she muttered. I had a sinking feeling she might be right.
    I set the plates down on place mats depicting various hunting scenes and returned for the other two. “Who is our fourth guest, Mrs. Berry?”
    “Call me Mary,” she said. “Eunice bullied Robin into coming. She wanted a man’s opinion on her cooking.”
    Robin was here! I swear I nearly dropped the china. My hands literally began to tremble. I should have dressed for dinner but at least I was wearing eye makeup.
    The evening had suddenly improved, especially now that I was officially on first-name terms with my prospective mother-in-law!
    “I thought he was at sea?”
    “Robin never tells me anything.”
    “Do we have any nice candles?” I said brightly. “It would make the table look so romantic.”
    “Doubt it,” said Mary. “You could try looking in the sideboard. We might have a couple of stumps we keep for power cuts.”
    I found three, tucked behind several dusty bottles of homemade sloe gin. The candlesticks were tarnished but they’d have to do. I even found some Swan Vesta matches—though most had been used and put back into the box.
    I’d been fantasizing about enjoying a candlelight dinner with my handsome lieutenant in full naval regalia for weeks. True, tonight we’d be joined by his mother and aunt, but it was a start and far better than trying to talk in a bar filled with noisy punters.
    I needed to check my reflection and wash my hands. I went back to the hatch and was about to ask where the downstairs loo was when I was struck dumb.
    Robin had entered the kitchen.
    “Ahoy there matey!” Robin scooped up his mother and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. “Hmm. Lovely