“Two cheeseburgers for me,” said my brother. Years of the two of us winding up Simon paid off. I didn’t even have to wink at him. He went on innocently, “What do centaurs eat? They’re all vegetarians, aren’t they?”
“I don’t know,” I said, which was true. “Perhaps I’d better order a vegeburger and a bit of lettuce for him.”
“Vegeburgers are full of additives – could do damage to his stomach – you’d better not,” Will said callously. “But on the other hand the meat in most hamburgers could be horse.”
Here Nick tumbled to what was going on and nearly gave the game away by laughing. Will and I both glared at him. I said anxiously, “So he’s faced with a choice of two things he can’t eat. I don’t think I’d better order any food for him at all. He seems to be asleep anyway.”
Will capped this with. “There’s probably nothing on Earth he can eat, you know. He’d better not have coffee, and I’m sure milk’s bad for him. Even water’s full of harmful chemicals.”
Here Rob could take no more. He rose up on one elbow, looking surprisingly healthy considering what he had been through. “Oh please!” he said. “I’m very hungry. Isn’t there really anything I can eat or drink?”
“That depends,” I said. “Do you eat meat?”
“I love it,” Rob said frankly. “And cheese and bread, and I’d even eat lettuce. And I do drink milk.”
“All right,” I said. “Cheeseburgers, chips and coffee all round then.”
I picked up the phone, leaving Rob confronting Maree and, beyond her, Nick staring gravely and wonderingly at Rob. I took my time over the order, which was not difficult to do, since the Room Service waiter I spoke to showed signs of stress and kept asking me to repeat things. “And can you assure me, sir,” he asked, “that the members of staff who deliver this meal will be spared the sight of –
er – eccentric costumes?” I looked at Rob, who was very clearly trying not to look at Maree and as a result kept meeting Nick’s eye, and assured the man that everyone in my room was perfectly normal. “And can you give me exact directions, sir, as to the whereabouts of room 555?” the harassed man continued. “Staff have unaccountably got lost tonight and we are trying to avoid – er, further complaints.”
Here Rob tried to solve his problems by lying down again and pulling the duvet over his face. As I wanted him to remain off balance, I was forced to turn from the phone and ask, “Rob, do you eat hay?”
“Hay?” Rob said, rising up aghast.
“One bale or two?” I asked.
“What?” cried Rob and Room Service almost simultaneously.
“Sorry,” I said into the phone. “We convention people have a strange sense of humour. Tell the staff member it was round three corners from the lift to room 555 when we came here just now.”
I turned from the phone and pulled up a chair so that I could sit facing Rob, beside Maree. “Right,” I said. “We’ll have to wait for the food, so you can answer me a few questions while we wait.”
“I’ll be happy to do that,” Rob answered warily.
“I doubt it,” I said. “I’m going to want you to answer each question in one word only. Who sent you here?”
“Knarros,” Rob said, wide-eyed, sincere and rather hurt.
“And who told Knarros to send you?”
“I don’t really see Knarros taking orders from any—”
“Rob,” I said. “One word. Who?”
“I – I can’t tell you,” Rob said. His face paled and he began looking so unwell that, despite what Stan had said, I felt a brute.
“OK,” I said. “Who were you sent to fetch? One word.”
“I…” Rob’s voice failed. He slumped back on his pillow.
“Not me?”
“No,” Rob admitted, and his voice failed further. His eyes closed.
“Perhaps you’d like to tell us, Nick?” I said.
Nick was now lying face-down on the carpet. He looked up at me ruefully. “Maree,” he said. “Rob said his uncle had to talk to her.”