Free A Death in the Family by Hazel Holt

well. They’ve had several notices in magazines from food writers and the bookings are well up on last year. Like I said, it’s in Stoke Bishop, quite near to Clifton – that’s really where they’d like to move to, but, of course, that is the really fashionable area so the rents are dreadfully high.’
    ‘You must be very proud of him.’
    ‘Oh yes, he’s done wonderfully well.’
    ‘Luke must be a really good chef. Where did he do his training?’
    ‘He went abroad straight after he left school. He worked a lot in France. His partner is French.’
    ‘Oh well,’ I said laughing, ‘we must expect him to get his first Michelin star quite soon.’
    We chatted for a while about the difficulties of the catering trade and other related topics and when we’d finished our coffee I went back into the kitchen to make the sandwiches. It was fascinating to see how Janet had opened up when talking about her son and I was curious to see what he was like. I’d just finished laying the tray (best china, cutleryand table napkins – I felt I had to make a special effort) when the door bell rang. I opened the door to find a tall young man, dressed in motorcycling leathers and holding a crash helmet.
    ‘Hello,’ he said, and his voice was particularly soft and pleasing, ‘I’m Luke.’

CHAPTER SEVEN
    He was so very much not what I’d expected that for a moment I simply stood there, then, collecting myself, I said, ‘I’m glad you were able to come. Your mother will be so glad to see you. Do come in, she’s in the sitting room.’
    Janet got up when she saw him and went over and put her arms around him. I saw that at last she was crying.
    ‘It’s all right, Mum,’ he said, ‘everything’s going to be all right.’
    After a little while she pulled herself together and patted his shoulder. ‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘this outfit means you came on that dangerous motorbike. And you got here so quickly so you must have driven far too fast.’
    Her voice when she was speaking to Luke was quite different from her usual diffident tones, more warm and maternal, confident almost.
    He laughed. ‘A hundred miles an hour and bending into all the corners.’
    She smiled fondly. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ shesaid. ‘But do take that dreadful jacket off or Mrs Malory will think you’re a Hell’s Angel or something.’
    ‘Oh, I’m used to motorbikes,’ I said. ‘Michael used to have one and I never had a moment’s peace when he was out on it. Anyway, do sit down, Luke. I’ll leave you both to talk while I see to lunch.’
    As I was putting out some juice and making the coffee I considered Luke. The leather gear, and the large, fancy motorbike in the drive seemed at odds with his delicate features, his light brown floppy hair and, especially, his soft mellifluous voice with its faintly ironic overtone, but then the most unlikely people had motorbikes. It was just a surprise, that was all.
    I took my time getting the lunch together. I wanted to give Janet time to have a proper talk with her son. It had been a relief to see her finally give way to tears after her long period of unnatural calm. But when I finally went in they were sitting in silence, side by side on the sofa.
    ‘Right then,’ I said brightly, ‘here we are. Just sandwiches.’
    Luke got to his feet and took the tray, while I went out to get the coffee and juice. When I got back I saw that he’d distributed the plates, cutlery and napkins and was already offering his mother a sandwich. He caught my faint look of surprise and said, ‘Sorry – do forgive me! Whenever I see food I automatically hand it around – force of habit, I suppose.’
    I laughed. ‘No, it’s splendid. Thank you so much.’
    ‘Delicious ham,’ he said, biting into his sandwich.
    ‘It’s from the local farmers’ market.’
    ‘Of course. They are wonderful, aren’t they? A
great
blessing. I always try to use local produce in the restaurant; it’s one of the things