'Oh well, you won't get the job then,' said Duncan. 'Everyone knows what a b.i.t.c.h you are to work with.' Ginny gazed at Piers with anxious eyes.

'How do they decide that bit?'

'I spend an afternoon working with the cast. Something like that.'

'And what are they like? Will you get on with them all right?' Too late, Ginny realized how worried she sounded.

'I would hope so,' said Piers, with a hint of tension in his voice. 'Unless I'm being my usual charmless self.'

'Of course! I didn't mean-'

'Of course he will,' said Duncan easily. 'Piece of p.i.s.s. Now come on, you two, join in our game of Scrabble.' He waved his rack of letters at Piers and Alice, so that the pieces scattered all over the floor.

'We've got stuff for mulled wine,' said Piers. 'And I'm going to light the fire.' He dropped a kiss on Ginny's shiny blond head. 'Do you know how to make mulled wine? We bought cloves and stuff.' Ginny looked up at Piers, and gave him a penitent smile.

'That sounds lovely. I could do with some mulled wine. And I'm sorry, Alice, I haven't even said h.e.l.lo to you yet. How are you?'

'Alice helped me buy the cloves,' said Piers.

'And now she can help me make the mulled wine,' said Duncan quickly. 'I am the world's leading expert on mulling, as you might be aware.'

'And the world's worst fire-maker,' added Piers. 'We know.'

Half an hour later, they resumed the game of Scrabble in front of the beginnings of a fire, armed with gla.s.ses of steaming, aromatic mulled wine.

'b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!' said Piers, as he took a sip. 'What's in this?'

'About three bottles of brandy,' giggled Alice. She and Duncan had already had several gla.s.ses, and she could feel herself getting drunk.

'My go,' said Duncan. He stared at the Scrabble board. 'Oh b.u.g.g.e.r. I can't do anything.' He paused, scratched his head and took a few sips from his gla.s.s.

'Is there such a word as X-Y-N-E?' he said eventually. 'Xyne. I'm sure it was in Shakespeare.'

'I don't think so,' said Ginny. She sat comfortably with her back against a chair, tilting her face to the glow of the flames. Piers's fingers were linked with hers, and with every sip of mulled wine she could feel herself relaxing. 'I think you've just made it up.'

'Xyne,' said Duncan musingly. 'Xyne. Isn't it a form of meditation? Xyne karma.'

'Never heard of it,' said Piers.

'Philistine,' retorted Duncan. He sighed hugely. 'Oh well, I can't go then.'

'Of course you can,' said Ginny. 'What about Yen?'

'Oh yes, I suppose that would do,' said Duncan brightly. He looked at his pieces and put them down. 'But I wanted to use my X. I'm sure Xyne's a word. It's very unfair.' He looked severely at Alice. 'What are you sn.i.g.g.e.ring at?'

'My go,' said Ginny. She stared at her letters and took several sips of mulled wine. Then she giggled. 'I've got one.'

'D-I-C-K,' read Duncan as she put the letters down. 'd.i.c.k. You can't have that. It's a name.'

'No it's not!' retorted Ginny. 'It's a thing.' She gave a snort of laughter.

'Is it?' Duncan looked about with raised eyebrows. 'Is it? Could you tell us what it is, please? I've never heard of it. And neither has Alice. Have you, Alice?' He winked at Alice, who was still shaking with giggles. Ginny ignored him.

'Piers, it's your go.'

'No, let Alice go first.'

Alice felt blissful. She was all warm and cosy and drunk, and surrounded by the beautifulest, coolest, funniest people she'd ever met. She controlled her giggles and stared at her row of letters. If only she could think of something funny to put. But as she gazed, her mind went blank. She couldn't see a single word.

'Let me have a look,' said Duncan helpfully. He leaned over, and whistled. 'Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear. c.r.a.p-letter alert.'

'Is there really nothing?' said Ginny.

'Completely, absolutely noth ... Wait!' Duncan's voice rose to a squeal. 'I've seen something.' Slowly and ceremonially, he placed each of Alice's letters down on the board in a row. Ginny read them out as they went down.

'J-E-C-C-S Duncan, is this really a word? Q-B. Duncan!'

'Jeccsqb,' said Duncan confidently. 'Come on, you're not going to tell me you don't know that one.' He beamed at Alice, whose laughter was now uncontrollable. Her stomach hurt; she couldn't speak. 'Well done! You get a fifty-point bonus for using up all your letters. And another gla.s.s of mulled wine.'

Alice's elated mood lasted all the way home. She bounded up the stairs to the flat, feeling euphoric and witty. She had never laughed so much in her life; even now, remembering some of the things Duncan had said made her erupt into a half-giggle. She burst into the sitting-room, a huge grin on her face, to find her parents watching television.

'I've left some supper for you in the oven,' said Liz. 'Vegetable lasagne.'

'Thanks,' said Alice. Suddenly she felt very hungry. Piers and Ginny and Duncan often seemed to just drink, without having any food, and by the time she got home she was always ravenous.

She came back into the sitting-room and sat down, balancing her plate on her knee. The final few minutes of a doc.u.mentary were playing, and when the t.i.tle music had finished her father silenced the screen with the remote control. He looked up and smiled at Alice.

'Did you have a nice time this evening?'

'Brilliant,' said Alice, her mouth full of lasagne. 'We played Scrabble.'

'Scrabble! What fun. We haven't played that for ages.' Jonathan looked at Liz. 'Do you feel like a game of Scrabble?'

'Oh, I don't know.' Liz spoke in a bored voice. Then she smiled. 'No, actually, that would be nice. Get the board out.'

When he returned, Jonathan was carrying a piece of paper.

'I've got my sponsorship form for the ECO Christmas Parade,' he said. 'Will you sponsor me?'

'How much?' said Alice. She felt grown-up and generous.

'You should be going on the parade, Alice, not sponsoring it,' objected Liz. 'Aren't you supposed to be a member of the society?'

'Yes, well, I gave out leaflets, didn't I?' said Alice. 'I'm not dressing up as a b.l.o.o.d.y tree again.'

'It's birds this year,' said Jonathan, 'and don't swear. We've been doing a lot of interesting work in the local woodland. The number of species that manage to survive, just around Silchester, is incredible. But some of them are terribly at risk.' He felt for his gla.s.ses. 'Anyway, you can fill in the form later. Let's get on with the Scrabble.'

The sight of the little square pieces in her rack made Alice want to laugh out loud again at the memory of Duncan. She rearranged them for a second or two, then looked up expectantly.

'Who's going first?' she said, in a voice that sounded too loud in this little room. 'I will.'

'Have you forgotten?' said her father, smiling at her indulgently. 'We all pick a letter out of the bag to decide that. Go on.' Alice watched in frustration as her father deliberately picked a piece from the bag, then pa.s.sed it on.

'I'm first,' announced Liz. She looked at her pieces. 'Hmm. What shall I put?'

Alice gazed at her as she peered at her letters, picking one up, putting it back down again, frowning and cupping her chin in her hand. Then she looked at her father, busily drawing up a chart for the scores. He was actually using a ruler. A ruler ruler, for Christ's sake!

'Here we are,' said Liz eventually. 'Temple. Not very exciting, I'm afraid.'

'Well done,' said Jonathan. 'How many's that?' There was a silence while he notched up the points. Alice felt like screaming. All the sounds in the room seemed magnified: the clinking of the pieces, the rustle of the bag, her mother's breathing and her father's Biro.

'Alice,' he said. 'Your turn.'

Alice stared at her pieces, willing something exciting to happen.

'Can I have Pete?' she said eventually.

'P-E-A-T?' said her father.

'No, P-E-T-E,' said Alice. She looked challengingly at her father.

'That's a proper name,' he said. 'Not allowed. Try again!'

'What about Teep? I'm sure there's such a word as Teep!' Her voice sounded slightly hysterical to her own ears, and she looked at her mother for a bit of support. She could at least laugh. But her mother was gazing moodily into s.p.a.ce and didn't even seem to have heard her.

'Really, Alice!' Her father looked at her in surprise. 'You must be able to do better than that. Let me have a look.'

Alice pa.s.sed her letters silently over to him, and felt a crushing sense of misery fall over her. She didn't want to be sitting in this poky, silent little room. She didn't want to be here, playing Scrabble with her awful, boring parents. She wanted to be back at twelve Russell Street, playing with Ginny and Duncan and laughing and drinking, and glancing up every so often to see whether, by any remote, delicious chance, Piers might be looking at her.

CHAPTER NINE.

Early on the morning of the ECO Parade, Anthea drove into Silchester and came back with two big boxes.

'Boys!' she called as she came in through the door. 'Come here and see what I've got!'

They arrived in the hall still in their pyjamas and dressing-gowns, munching on Weetabix. Hannah followed behind, holding a mug of the strong, sweet breakfast tea without which she couldn't function in the mornings.

'Look!' said Anthea proudly, and held out a box to Daniel. He peered at it.

'Owl, ten to twelve,' he read.

'This one's Owl, eight to ten,' reported Andrew. 'I wonder what they are,' he added interestedly.

'Open it and see,' said Anthea. Daniel looked up at her. He had a dawning, awful suspicion as to what might be in the boxes. But dutifully he began to tug at the ties which held the lid on. Andrew got there before him.

'It's feathers!' he said.

'It's a costume!' said Anthea. Daniel finally got the lid of his box off and looked inside. An owl's face looked back at him. With slightly shaking fingers, he picked it up. It was a whole hollow head, made out of brown feathers and furry material. There were two big yellow eyes with eyeholes punched in them, and an orange plastic beak. And curled up inside the box was a furry, feathery owl's body.

'It's got wings that you can flap as you walk along,' said Anthea in a pleased voice. Andrew and Daniel exchanged glances.

'Do we have to wear them?' asked Daniel. 'Couldn't we just have face paint like last year?' Anthea looked surprised.

'No,' she said sharply. 'Don't be so silly. Now, when you've finished your breakfast you can go and put them on. We've got to leave at eleven.' She looked from Daniel's glum face to Andrew, who was staring thoughtfully at his costume. 'Come on, both of you,' she exclaimed. 'Look a bit more cheerful! This parade's going to be fun! And you'll both look splendid.' She glanced at Hannah. 'Won't they, Hannah?'

'Splendid,' echoed Hannah, in indeterminate tones. Anthea peered suspiciously at her, then started to walk briskly up the stairs.

'Now hurry up with your breakfast,' she said over her shoulder. 'We don't want to be late for the start of the parade.'

When she had gone round the corner, Daniel turned agonized eyes on Hannah.

'We can't wear these!' he said. 'We'll look like complete nerds!'

'It won't be so bad,' said Hannah. 'No one will know it's you inside.'

'They will,' said Andrew. 'They'll know it's us because Mummy will tell them.' Hannah started laughing.

'You've got a point there,' she said. She looked back at Daniel, who was miserably fingering his costume. 'Look, Daniel,' she said kindly, 'put it on when you've finished your breakfast, and if it looks too awful, maybe your mother will say you don't have to wear it.'

'OK,' said Daniel. He dropped the box on the floor and gave it a little kick. 'But I bet she won't,' he added gloomily.

Marcus was sitting at the breakfast table, sipping his coffee, utterly oblivious to the arrival of the costumes. He looked as though he was reading the newspapers spread out before him, but in fact his mind was elsewhere. The night before, Leo Francis had popped round to Witherstone's, ostensibly for a simple goodwill meeting between local solicitor and local estate agent. When the door had closed on Suzy, he had leaned over to Marcus.

'You'll be glad to hear,' he murmured, 'that the Panning Hall estate has been granted probate, and sold privately at the asking price you suggested.'

'Ah, good,' replied Marcus softly, ignoring the nervous thrill that leapt through his chest. 'And your clients were satisfied with that?'

'Wholly satisfied,' Leo said, smirking at Marcus. 'Living, as they do, in the States, they have very little appreciation of the current state of the British property market. I had warned them that the estate might not fetch a great deal, and I believe they were rather pleased with the amount that they received.' Marcus paused, and studied his blotter. He wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to be playing this meeting. Was it done to ask direct questions? Or did the whole conversation have to be carried out as though it were being recorded as evidence against them?

'And the purchaser?' he said eventually.

'The property was bought as an investment,' said Leo smoothly, 'by a small private company.' He smiled at Marcus.

'Aha,' said Marcus, nodding wisely. 'A private company.' Owned by Leo, obviously. He wondered briefly how it was that Leo had the money to make such a huge purchase. Perhaps he was in partnership with someone. Or perhaps he had ama.s.sed a fortune from having pulled similar scams in the past. After all, on this deal alone, he stood to make a good million profit from selling the estate on. Minus the cut of twenty per cent that he would give to Marcus.

Marcus smiled at Leo again.

'And will this company perhaps be looking to sell the estate fairly soon?' he said, then wondered if that was too blatant. But Leo grinned even harder.