What the Maid Saw [Cont.]

I left you hanging in the air, rather, dear reader and I am sorry for that. I hear my great uncle Percy had a flair for the dramatic so maybe I inherited that from him. I was about to tell you what the maid, Mabel Starky, heard that stirred in my great uncle some memory of what happened to him during his lost years (1969-1974). According to Mabel's diary, which I have no reason to disbelieve, it happened at dinner, during the fish course.

I know what you're thinking: omit all extraneous detail, Richard! But the fact the fish course was being served is critical to understanding the matter, for it was a fish — a halibut, according to Mabel — that did it. Whether or not it was a halibut is important I don't know. But we cannot discount it. What happened was this: it had been a perfectly ordinary meal up to that point. Lord and Lady Aurthur Chesterton, Sir Clive Ashford and other assorted lowly members of the British aristocracy, plus the patriarchal head of a London bank, were in attendance and conversation was both witty and interesting. My great uncle Percy, of course, leading the anecdote count.

The fish was served and my uncle peered down, armed with a knife and fork and, as witnessed by the serving waiter and recounted to Mabel in the kitchen later, he went pale. Queries as to his health seemed destined to go unanswered until he spoke, barely above a whisper. These, apparently, were his words: 'That's how she looked at me.' He then got up, asked the butler to pack his bags for him and called for a car. Half an hour later he was on his way back to London where he got a job as senior cultural adviser to the royal household.

Mabel and the other staff stood around the aforementioned halibut, which had been brought back to the kitchen and placed on the table as some sort of Exhibit A. There was much discussion about what sort of look the fish had given great uncle Percy. Mabel thought it was one of wild surmise, and although she alluded to the fact there was no general agreement on that, she did not report on the differing opinions.

Since then, I have been staring into the faces — if faces is the word I want — of a good many halibut, and all I can get from them is something nearing cold reproach.

But who was the 'she' he referred to? So far, like the fish, the trail is cold. I am sure, though, the answer is out there, somewhere.