Part 3 (1/2)

'Yes, sir?'

'Put the kettle on.'

Polly smiled once more at Inspectre Hovis. First up against the wall, come the revolution, she thought.

3.

O Lucifer, Son of the Morning And Lord of the Bottomless Pit, Roll back your celestial awning Thy thurible is lit.

Hail thee that riseth in the east Behold the sacrificial feast.

Amen.

'Amen to that,' agreed Tuppe, tucking a napkin into his s.h.i.+rt neck and rubbing his knife and fork together.

'Does your adoptive daddy usually dedicate his dinner to the devil?' Anna whispered into the ear of Cornelius Murphy.

'Oh no.' The tall boy gave his bandaged head a careful shake. 'I suspect he's just b.u.t.tering up the Prince of Darkness in the hope of a favour.' 'd.a.m.ned right!' Murphy Senior was seated at the head of the Murphy kitchen table. His lady wife at the foot. Tuppe, Cornelius and the lovely Anna ranged variously between. 'It is my intention to summon forth all manner of banshee, bugaboo and bogybeast.

To raise divers demons, dibbuks, ghouls and gorgons. To conjure pigwidgeons and pandemoniacs from those regions which are forever night. And things of that nature, generally.'

'To any specific end, Mr Murphy?' Tuppe en-quired.

'Indeed yes.' The master of the house raised up his great chest and glared at the ceiling. 'To unleash a great and terrible pestilence upon the head of Arthur Kobold. Bad cess be unto him.'

'Amen to that also,' said Tuppe.

'Shall I be mother then?' Mrs Murphy rose, bran-dis.h.i.+ng an electric carver. 'If I'd known the daddy was planning to invoke His Satanic Majesty tonight I'd have got a goat in, rather than this goose. Leg, anyone?'

'Excuse me, Mrs M,' Tuppe cast a wary eye over the hapless fowl which graced the greater part of the dining table, 'but am I right in thinking that this goose is somewhat over-represented in the lower-limb division?'

'You've a lovely way with words, young Tuppe.' Mrs Murphy leaned over and gave the small fellow an affectionate chucky-cheek, nearly putting his eye out with the carving knife. 'I wonder what they mean.

'He's asking why the goose has so many legs,' her husband informed her. 'Bred that way, would be my guess. A chap I once knew used to breed chickens with four legs, so all his family could have one. I said to him, ”What do they taste like?” And he said, ”I don't know, I've never managed to catch one yet.”'

Anna laughed politely.

Mrs Murphy hacked at the avian multi-ped, raising a fine cloud of feathers. 'I knew I should have plucked this before I cooked it. But I was afraid to open the oven door, in case it got loose again.'

'You cooked it alive?' Anna was horrified.

'Of course not, dear. I had the gas on for half an hour first.'

'Ah,' said Cornelius. 'That would explain the smoke-blackening on the walls and ceiling.'

'The firemen were very nice.' Mrs Murphy pa.s.sed legs around. 'They said the house should be con-demned. Your father ran them off with a mattock.'

Tuppe examined the leg on his plate. 'About the goose.'

'It wandered into the back garden this morning. Well, trucked in really. I think it must have escaped from Polgar's Pet Shop last night.'

Tuppe pushed his plate aside. A recent near-fatal encounter with a furry fish was still fresh in his memory. 'Did I tell you I've become a vegan?' he asked.

'Oh,' went Mrs Murphy. 'I didn't know you could become a vegan. I thought you had to be bornthere.'

'That's a Venusian,' said her husband. 'As in Venusian blind?'

'I expect so.' Jack Murphy shrugged.

'Well, that's very nice, Tuppe. I'm glad you've got yourself a proper job. Do you commute between the planets, or are you in the office?'

'In the office,' said Tuppe. 'By the radiator.'

'That's nice. More goose, did you say?'

'No thanks, but I'll have some of those sprouts, please.'

'Help yourself You'll have to use your fingers, I'm afraid. My friend Mrs Cohen is having her son circ.u.mcised, so I've lent her my serving spoons.'

'For the do afterwards,' Jack Murphy explained to the open-mouthed Tuppe.

'It's very kind of you to invite Tuppe and me to share your dinner,' said Anna, raising her hand against another helping of goose. 'I'll just stick to this broccoli, if you don't mind. I'm on a diet.'

'I was on a diet once.' Mrs Murphy loaded up her husband's plate. 'You had to eat nothing but soft furnis.h.i.+ngs. It was called the G Plan, I think.'

Cornelius forked up some spinach. 'Your cheque bounced also then?' he asked the daddy.

Murphy Senior nodded gloomily and speared an asparagus tip with his fork. 'It's not the principle of the thing that troubles me, it's the money! I was actually planning to pay Mike the mechanic for the car I gave you.

'The Cadillac Eldorado.' Cornelius chased peas around his plate. 'About that...'

'It got dumped on,' said Tuppe. 'From a great height. Would someone pa.s.s the pet.i.ts pois, please?'

'Dumped on?' Jack Murphy fell back in dismay. 'You lost the Cadillac?'

'In as many words, yes.' Cornelius nodded sadly.

'Kobold?'

'In as few words, yes again.'

'That does it! Roll back the limo, Mother, we're raising Behemoth tonight.'

'Not until everyone's finished eating, dear. Have some more courgettes, Anna. Try the yellow ones.