Chapter 39

“I’ve no doubt you could do with something in your stomach. I’ll scramble up some eggs and fry some potatoes. If you’ve got?”

“You can check the larder. I’ve no idea. Jeremy…Jeremy did all the shopping.” Vaguely I recalled my parents’ butler coming round to fix some meals, tut-tutting his discreet disapproval at my dishevelment as well as the condition of the house.

“James.” Ludo rested a hand on my shoulder.

“What brought you ‘round?” I shrugged off his hand and went to the shelf where the cups were kept. “We haven’t run in the same circles for donkey’s years.”

“D’you remember Balthazar Wolfram?” He set about cracking the eggs into the frying pan I’d placed on the hob.

“The Wolf?” No one had ever dared call him Balls, at least not more than once. “Your brother Algie’s friend who made our lives miserable whenever he came down to spend the hols? Not likely I’d forget.” He’d aggravated me to the point where I’d shot him in the arse with my slingshot.