Dead Man's Chest by Kerry Greenwood Read Free Book Online Page A

house and she didn’t want to go back to it.
    Fortunately thoughts of Gary Cooper came to comfort and distract her. Gary Cooper could always distract Lily. Amos the butcher’s boy in his distasteful stained apron was too, too impossible, even though he dogged her footsteps and stared at her with his mouth open. One day, she dreamed, Gary Cooper would come to the kitchen door, rip off her apron and sweep her off her feet.
    Jane came in, marking her place in her book with her finger until she found a more durable bookmark. Nothing seemed available except lettuce.
    ‘Here I am,’ she announced, as Ruth was staring into space. ‘I say, Ruthie? Are you all right?’
    ‘Oh, Jane, can you help me? There are too many recipes,’ exclaimed Ruth. ‘I want to cook them all!’
    ‘Steady on,’ said Jane. ‘Give me a look.’
    Ruth sipped a strengthening cup of mint tea as Jane skimmed the masterwork. But what would Jane know? She was a scientist! Cookery was an art!
    ‘I see,’ murmured Jane. ‘Well, I’ve got an idea,’ she told her sister. ‘Pick one from each chapter and that makes a menu.’
    ‘No, it doesn’t,’ said Ruth sharply. ‘It has to be balanced. Not too much cream, not too much sweetness . . .’
    ‘Let’s give it a try,’ suggested Jane, who preferred experiment to theory every time. ‘Then if one thing doesn’t work we just go back to the chapter and find one which does. Now, what sort of meat have you got?’
    ‘A leg of lamb. And a duck, but the duck’s got to hang to let the fat drain out of it, so it’s for tomorrow,’ explained Ruth.
    ‘Lucky Ember isn’t here. Just think how he’d feel about a hanging duck!’
    Ruth chuckled, imagining the black cat batting the duck back and forth until it flew into his mouth and was thus lawful prey. Jane was continuing her research in Miss Leyel’s book.
    ‘All right, how are you going to cook your leg of lamb? Let’s see. How about boned with a herb stuffing on page 189?’
    ‘That sounds good.’ Ruth was feeling better. The problem, once stated, had become manageable. ‘Then what about the vegetables?’
    ‘What did you order?’
    ‘I’ve got green peas,’ said Ruth, truffling about in the cool space under the sink. ‘Green beans, a cauliflower and a lot of potatoes and onions.’
    ‘Peas,’ decided Jane. ‘Mint sauce. Now for soup. And the finger alights on . . . potato.’
    ‘Too heavy. We need something light.’
    Jane grinned and tossed back her plaits.
    ‘Then the moving finger writes and having writ comes up with . . . potage bonne femme , which is made of . . . carrots, mostly.’
    ‘Sounds good,’ agreed Ruth. ‘I can send Tinker downtown for some. And for dessert, we can have that amazing crème d’abricot , ’cos I’ve lots of apricots. Thank you!’ She embraced Jane suddenly. ‘Now, as a special favour, you can bone the leg of lamb while I go and cut the herbs for the stuffing.’
    ‘Jolly good,’ said Jane, taking up the smallest and most flexible of the carving knives and trying to recall the anatomical diagram in Mrs Beeton.
    Tinker, constructing himself another sandwich of architectural complexity, thought that they were very nice sisters indeed, and not at all like his own, who quarrelled without ceasing over anything whatsoever. He sat on the back step, feeding scraps of ham to Molly, and felt that life was, for a change, treating him well.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Work apace, apace, apace Honest labour bears a lovely face.
    Thomas Dekker ‘Sweet Content’
    Phryne and Dot returned to the house to find lunch all laid out on a buffet. At the sound of her entry, Ruth brought the lemonade out of the icebox, put it and the gin bottle onto a tray, and bore them into the parlour, where Jane was already nibbling and reading, Dot was selecting a ham and pickle sandwich and a bunch of grapes, and Phryne was taking off her straw hat.
    ‘Lunch!’ she said. ‘Let me just go and wash the salt off. Won’t be a tick. Two