Dead in the Water Read Free Page A

go too far and get his teeth shoved down his precious gullet.”
    Rollo shook his head. “I doubt it. He’s a boxing Blue, remember. What I’m afraid of is that one of these days he’ll biff Bott.”
    â€œOh, Bott! He can scramble Bott’s brains with my goodwill, as long as he waits till after the Regatta.”
    â€œBut, Cherry, he’s twice Bott’s size!” Dottie protested.
    â€œI can’t see that stopping him,” said Rollo. “For all his pater’s an earl, the way he goes around insulting ladies proves he’s no gentleman, and he’s really got his knife into Bott.”
    â€œBott’s no gentleman either,” Cherry muttered, “even if he is a bloody genius.”
    â€œOh darling!” Standing on tiptoe, Dottie kissed his cheek. “Bott’s brains are absolutely the only thing about him I admire. I wouldn’t marry him for a million in cash. I mean to say, how could I bear to be called Dottie Bott?”
    Laughing, they all moved towards the house.

2
    A fternoon tea was served on the terrace. All the crew were present. Their donning of flannels and blazers seemed to Daisy to reduce them to manageable proportions. Still, even after being introduced to those she had not yet met, she wasn’t sure she’d know one from the next if she met them on the river-bank.
    Cherry and Rollo stood out not only in their relationship to her cousin, she realised. They were older than the others, about her own age, having fought in the War before going up to Oxford. They were third-year men, as were Horace Bott and Basil DeLancey, the rest being first and second.
    Some on garden chairs and benches, some sprawled on cushions on the crazy paving, they lounged about the terrace. Tish presided over the urn and teapot as her mother had not turned up.
    â€œShall I go and find Aunt Cynthia?” Daisy offered, suddenly anxious as she recalled the splotches of insecticide on Lady Cheringham’s blouse.
    Tobacco-water didn’t sound very dangerous, however noxious the fumes from cheap cigarettes. But it must contain nicotine
and that, she had a feeling, was a deadly toxin in certain circumstances. She had read a book on poisons after the Albert Hall affair, though she couldn’t remember the specifics.
    â€œI saw Lady Cheringham out in the front garden when I came down,” Rollo said, “taking a pair of shears to one of the topiary swans.”
    â€œMother’s so thrilled to have a proper English garden, she finds it hard to drag herself away,” Tish explained.
    Cherry grinned. “And Uncle Rupert can’t be pried from his manuscript. You know he’s writing his memoirs, Daisy? It seems to be de rigueur for retired colonial administrators, a sort of tic, like giving their houses frightful names like ‘Bulawayo.’ I’ll take him a cup. The servants are run off their feet with this heathen lot to cater to.” He waved a careless hand at his guzzling crew-mates.
    â€œI’ll go,” said Daisy. “I haven’t said hullo to Uncle Rupert yet. He’s keen on cucumber sandwiches, isn’t he?”
    She started to pile a plate with the thin-cut, crustless triangles, but Tish, momentarily distracted by handing cups to two suppliants, turned back to stop her.
    â€œI’m afraid Daddy’s made a bolt for it,” she said, as guiltily as if she was personally responsible for her father’s dereliction of his duty as host. “He said he couldn’t hear himself think with dozens of galumphing athletes in the house, so he packed up the great work and departed for his club. Bister took him to the station when he met you, Daisy. You must have just missed him.”
    Cherry laughed, but Rollo looked dismayed.
    â€œDash it, I’m most frightfully sorry, Tish,” he said. “You should have told me. I’d have made them shut up.”
    â€œIt’s all right, you great