The berries of the mistletoe gleamed brighter than her pearls under the hall light. 'She must have an excellent spy system. 'Has Grace made up the beds for all Patrick's friends?''Someone insulted her in the pub at lunchtime,' said Taggie. The kitchen wireless was blaring out Dame Enid's latest tone poem; the New Statesman and the Times Literary Supplement lay on the kitchen table all giving Rupert an unpleasant feeling of deja vu.
Glancing round, Declan tried to analyse the expression on his face. 'Deirdre Kilpatrick's been working on Maurice Wooton all week. He invited half a dozen rich cronies to lunch in his board room and got Taggie up to London to do the cooking. ''We don't have to tell her, do we?' Archie's round face turned pale.
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