Only the Cat Knows by Marian Babson Page B

way it used to be!’
    ‘Is it?’
    ‘You still don’t remember?’ Her brow rippled with concern. ‘You can sit in that chair, just where you always used to sit, and nothing comes back to you?’
    ‘Sorry …’I gave a hint of a shrug. ‘They say it may never come back … and there’s nothing I can do about it. Just wait … and see.’
    ‘Oh, dear.’ She bit her lower lip. ‘I was so hoping …’
    I let her dangle there while I looked around the room. It was slightly unnerving to find it so familiar. Had I unknowingly received some ESP transmission from Nessa — perhaps while in a dream state?
    The parade of blue-and-white china across the mantel, the mirror above it, even the tall jardinière sparsely filled with peacock feathers by the side of the fireplace … I had seen them all before. It was as though I had walked into a Victorian painting.
    And so I had, I realized abruptly. That was where I had seen it all before. So much for Nina’s creative ability. Her studio was a mix-and-not-quite-match take-off of every Victorian fad that had lasted long enough to be immortalized on canvas.
    ‘You like it, I can tell.’ She glanced around complacently, unaware that she had been caught out. ‘You always did. That’s why you were going to have me do your quarters.’
    ‘Mmm …’
    ‘I could do it any time, now that you’re back.’ She was a little too eager. ‘And it might help to take your mind off … things.’
    ‘But I don’t want to get my mind off anything,’ I reminded her. ‘I want to get my mind back — and all the things I had on it.’
    ‘Oh!’ She hadn’t thought of that. Or had she? A faint glint of speculation flickered in the depths of her eyes. ‘But you can ask me any questions you want. About anything you want to know.’
    ‘The trouble with that is, I don’t know what I want to know. I don’t know what questions to ask.’
    ‘Oh!’ I watched her absorb this. ‘Yes, of course. I hadn’t thought of that. Of course you don’t!’ She sounded pleased about it.
    ‘It might help if —’ A light tap at the door interrupted me.
    ‘There’s tea!’ Nina sprang towards the door as though she hadn’t eaten for days. I remained seated, but turned to watch.
    My hope was dashed again. It wasn’t Dilys delivering the trolley, it was the sullen one who had brought my brunch. She didn’t linger here, either; nor did Nina seem to expect that she would.
    ‘That looks interesting,’ I remarked as Nina wheeled the trolley over to the table.
    ‘All sorts of fancy sandwiches,’ Nina said appreciatively. ‘I thought it might be. Antoine has to do his French cooking at dinner for Mr Oversall, but he likes to experiment with sandwiches and petits fours for tea.’
    ‘I haven’t seen Mr Oversall at dinner yet,’ I said, then realized someone else was missing. ‘And you’ve only set the table for two now. I thought Kiki was joining us.’
    ‘Oh, no, she cancelled. She often does.’ Nina shrugged. ‘She said she wasn’t feeling well. A headache, as usual. You can’t depend on her, you know.’
    ‘Really?’ I wouldn’t dream of doing so. I wondered if Kiki was having another search of my quarters while Nina kept me occupied here.
    ‘I … I don’t like to talk about it … and ordinarily, I wouldn’t …’
Oh, no, not much
.
    ‘But?’ I encouraged.
    ‘But you ought to know. Well, you do know — you
did
— but you don’t any more. So … I mean …’ She faltered toa stop, frowning, having got so convoluted she wasn’t sure what she was trying to say any more.
    ‘So, perhaps you ought to tell me,’ I prompted. If you really think I ought to know. You do, don’t you?’
    ‘Oh, yes!’ She had no doubt about that and was relieved that I had seen it so clearly. ‘You
need
to know! Otherwise, you might … she might …’ She broke off again in confusion.
    ‘I see.’ Although I didn’t. I was beginning to suspect that confusion was her natural