Trying to anticipate this one, she had a feeling that Vicki was engaged to be married, and was either going to leave the town altogether, or was going to settle down in it comfortably elsewhere. She did not know why she had this feeling, but it somehow fitted in with Vicki’s conversation and manner in the last five minutes.

Vicki returned with the drinks, sat down, said, ‘Well – here’s to you,’ and drank.

‘Well. Go on,’ said Miss Roach, masking a faint feeling of exhaustion behind a show of delighted interest. ‘Tell me. What is it?’

‘Your Mrs. Payne . . .’ said Vicki, and took another sip.

‘Yes?’

‘I have seen your Mrs. Payne,’ said Vicki. ‘I have had a long talk with her!. . .’

‘No! . . . Really? . . .’

‘Uh-huh. . . .’ (Vicki had a rather irritating habit, which Miss Roach had noticed before, of saying ‘Uh-huh’ instead of ‘Yes’.) ‘And what do you think?’

‘What?’

‘I am coming to stay with you, my dear. You have a new lodger at the Rosamund Tea Rooms!’

‘No!’

‘Yes indeed. It is all fixed up. What do you think of that?

‘But, my dear, this is marvellous!’  said Miss Roach, that slight film coming over her eyes which comes over the eyes of those who, while proclaiming intense pleasure, are actually thinking fast.

‘Yes. It is marvellous, isn’t it?’ said Vicki. ‘Now we shall be together.’

‘But you don’t mean,’ said Miss Roach, finally managing completely to dispel the slight film, ‘staying in the house? It’s full up in the house, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. In the house. Your Mrs. – what is her name – Bart?’

‘Barratt?’

‘Yes. Mrs. Barratt.