“You're not doing so well with me.” undervoice

“But you're not like the others. You should be at the Ritz. Are you sure you came to the right place?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he responded in a hollow voice.

“So what'll it be?”

“Since it all looks equally disgusting,” he snapped, “you'd better bring me anything that isn't 'off.' That is, if you can find something.”

That should test her temper to the limit, he thought. But when he looked up she was regarding him with quizzical amusement.

“You've had a hard day too, haven't you?” she asked kindly.

“Yes,” he said, suddenly dazed. “Yes-”

“What's the matter?”

“I-nothing.”

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I'm not. Just bring me the first dish you lay your hands on.”

He was glad when she left. He needed a moment to come to terms with his sudden sense of shock. It was nothing that could be precisely defined, just a strange sensation when he'd surprised that odd kindness on her face.

Suddenly he was a child again, with his Aunt Gertrude, his father's sister who'd raised him after his mother died. The boy had been throwing a temper about some childish tragedy. And when he'd kicked the furniture and shouted unforgivable things in his frustration and misery he'd looked up, expecting anger, but encountered instead his aunt's understanding smile.

“Why don't we just forget all about it?” she asked tenderly. And he'd known that she was the kindest person in the world. As well as the prettiest.

He could see Aunt Gertrude now, her pixie face with its halo of soft blond hair, so like the waitress's. There could be no doubt about it. Impossible as it seemed, this was a member of the Ellurian royal dynasty, bearing the family face down through the generations.

His rudeness hadn't fazed her, and he had to give her high marks for her patience and self-control. But oh, her voice! Her laugh! Her way of calling him “love”! And this woman was the rightful monarch of Elluria! He could have wept for his country.

She returned with a plate of pie and peas.

“Sit down,” he said, indicating the seat opposite. She gave him a wary look and he nodded. “I'm not consistent, am I? But I'm a stranger here and I'd like to talk.”

“All right,” she sat down with a sigh of relief.

“It must be a hard job,” he said sympathetically.

She groaned. “Tell me about it!” Then she laughed. “But I enjoy it. You meet people.”

“Do you live on the premises? I understand you're the manageress.”

She giggled. “Manageress! Honestly! That's just one of Jack's harmless daydreams, like calling this place The Grand. I mean, look at it. He's a sweet old boy, but you've got to admit it's hilarious.”

Randolph, who was feeling anything but amused, agreed that it was.

“So you don't live here?” he continued valiantly.

“I've got a room a few streets away.”

“You're not married?” Randolph asked cautiously. He no longer dared rely on any of Sigmund's information.

“Not yet, but Mike and I will be setting the day soon. That's him, over there.”

Randolph followed her gaze to the stocky young man who was just coming through the door. From his stained overalls he seemed to be a mechanic. He waved at Dottie, then settled down in a corner table.

“No other family?” Randolph persisted. “Father? Mother?”

“My parents died years ago.”

“Brothers or sisters?”

“No.”

“Ex-husbands?”

“No. Excuse me,” she said with sudden determination, “I've got some urgent business to attend to.”

She jumped up, hurried over to the young man, just getting there ahead of the dark-haired waitress, and planted a firm kiss on his mouth. “Push off,” she told Brenda. “Find your own feller.”

“You can talk.” Brenda addressed herself to Mike.

“She's been all over that bloke behind the palm. Can't see his face but his clothes are posh.”

“Eee, Dot,” Mike said, awed, “have you got a rich admirer?”

“Could be,” Dottie agreed.

“He's been asking her all sorts of personal stuff,” Brenda went on. “Like, has she got any family?”

“What's he want to do that for?” Mike asked, puzzled.

“White slavery,” Brenda said dramatically.

Dottie stared. “You what?”

“He's the front man, luring innocent girls into his net, then selling them on,” Brenda said with relish. “He's probably stocking a harem. He's asking all those questions because he wants to know if anyone will be looking for you.”

“Then why isn't he asking you questions?” Dottie wanted to know.

“There's a better market in blondes. He's probably got your purchaser already lined up.”

Mike was impressed. “Hey, Dot, do you think he'd give me two camels for you?”

“You cheeky blighter!” she said indignantly. “What do you mean, two? Three, or you're dead.”

“Well, tell him I'm open to offers. Three camels would just about pay the deposit on that garage.”

This sent Dottie into gales of laughter. Still shaking she made her way unsteadily back to Randolph's table, and collapsed into her seat.

“What's so funny?” Randolph demanded, fascinated. He'd only caught odd scraps of the conversation.

It took her some time to get the words out between chuckles, but when she'd finished he gave a reluctant grin. Despite his gloomy mood he found her sunny approach to life infectious.

“I'm afraid I'm not anything as interesting as a white slaver,” he said.

“Pity,” Dottie said, making a face. “I could sell you Brenda at a discount. That would make her leave my fiancé alone.”

“She's certainly making eyes at him. And he doesn't seem to mind.”

“Oh, Mike's an innocent,” Dottie said cheerfully. “He needs me to look after him.”

“Shouldn't he be looking after you?”

“We look after each other, we always have, ever since we were at school. On my first day, someone knocked me down in the playground and he picked me up and stopped them doing it again. And I helped him with his sums.”

Yes, Randolph thought uncharitably, the bumpkin looked like someone who would need help with his sums.

“Is that all you want out of life,” he asked, “to settle down with a garage mechanic?”

“What's wrong with him being a garage mechanic?” she fired up.

“Nothing,” he said hastily, reading dire retribution in her eyes. “I just thought you might have been a bit more ambitious.”

“Why?” she asked, honestly baffled.

“Because a girl as pretty as you could take her pick of men.”

“Do you really think I'm pretty?”

“Ravishing,” he said, adding shamelessly, “With that tiny waist and those smoky blue eyes, you could be a model.”

“You are a white slaver,” she said triumphantly. “I must tell Mike. He said you could have me for three camels.”

Randolph felt all at sea. Nothing in his previous life had prepared him for a woman who turned everything into a joke.

“Why does he want three camels?” he asked, grasping at straws.

“When he's sold them he can afford the deposit on a garage.”

“I'm not sure how much three camels would fetch,” he mused, keeping gamely up with her.

“Well if it's not enough we'll throw Brenda in as well, for another two.”

“Only two?”

“Well, she's not worth as many as me,” Dottie said with such indignation that he laughed. “He's not just a mechanic,” she added. “He's going to be an owner.”

“And who'll do the sums?” Randolph asked, touched by her eagerness.

“Me of course. Mike's genius is in his hands.”

“And did you, by any chance, put the idea into his head?”

“I may have done.”

“And who found the garage?”

“Well, me.”

“And who's been talking with the bank? Mike?”

Dottie crowed with laughter and thumped him on the shoulder in a familiar way that nobody had ever dared do before. For an instant he stiffened, but then he remembered he was incognito and forced himself to relax.

“It's no use you trying to make me think Mike is thick.”

“I can see that,” he murmured wryly.

“Anyway, I don't care. He's mine.”

The sudden softening of her voice, and a glow in her eyes made Randolph ask quietly, “You really love him, don't you?”

“Heaps and heaps,” Dottie said with a happy sigh.

“So you wouldn't be interested in my nefarious intentions?”

“Nef- What?”

“It means 'up to no good.' That's what you think of me?”

“I've got to, while you're in that posh gear,” she said cheekily. “The last bloke who came in here dressed like that was arrested as he went out the door. Got five years for fraud.”

“Then since my clothes have given me away, you'd better tell me something about yourself so that I can decide whether you're worth three camels.”

That made her crow with laughter, and to his ears it had a pleasant sound.

“My name's Dottie Hebden,” she said, unwittingly sinking his last hope. “It's short for Dorothea. I ask you! Fancy saddling someone with a name like Dorothea!”

“Perhaps it's a family name.”

“Funny you should say that because as a matter of fact it is. According to my grandpa, anyway. If you believed him we come from a grand family, years and years ago.”

“Did he ever tell you anything about this family?”

“I'm not sure. The trouble was, he was a terrible man for the drink, and when he was tipsy everyone stopped listening. No, it was just Grandpa spinning pretty tales.”

“Haven't you ever wished that they were true?”

“Heavens no! What, me? Swanning about in a tiara and acting grand? Don't be funny!”

Her smile died as something attracted her attention. Randolph followed her gaze and saw that Mike was talking into a mobile phone, looking as annoyed as his good-natured face would allow. He finished the call, shrugged helplessly at Dottie and rose to his feet.