‘What do you want?’ Langham asked. He raised his eyebrows at the hat on my head. ‘I thought we parted on good terms.’

I knotted my guts. Bribery wouldn’t work now, I knew. Nor would pleading or begging. He’d sneer and throw me out for that. I needed to do something else, something surprising, that he wasn’t expecting. Rich people were always bored. I took a breath.

‘We did, señor. You were kind to me, and I have not forgotten it. So, being alone in the world, I have come to ask if you might consider allowing me to work for you, in exchange for room and board.’

There was a pause. ‘Work for me?’ Langham said. ‘Doing what exactly?’

He laughed, but his voice was careful. Looking into his eyes I felt it again, the jostling of unsaid words between us. I raised my voice.

‘I will be your private chef, señor, I will work in your kitchen and serve you and your guests. I will make anything you want. I am a good cook. You will not be disappointed.’

I couldn’t look at the party guests, though I heard exclamations from the ones who spoke Spanish, their mirth at my expense.

‘I hire in a chef when I need one, del Potro.’ Langham’s lip twitched. ‘Why should I employ you?’

‘Because your chef is bad. And a crook too, I’ll wager.’

That made his eyes narrow, his lips pinch a fraction.

‘What makes you say that?’

My heart was thumping beneath the bindings. ‘Because the fish I tasted tonight is half rotten,’ I said, with as much authority as I could. ‘Whoever cooked it has tried to hide the taste with too much dill. The cutlets were not much better. The butter used to make the sauce was rancid, the wine cheap. The grenadine in your drinks –’ I nodded towards a glass ‘– is fake. It’s just sugar and cochineal. I’ll bet whoever cooks for you takes your money, buys the cheapest he can get, and pockets the difference. Probably thinks you’ll all be too drunk to notice –’ I swallowed ‘– señor.’

The guests around the pool had fallen silent. I could feel the man who held my arm staring at me hard. I hadn’t meant to speak so freely, had lapsed into my old inn talk without even realizing. If I’d gone too far … Langham’s face revealed nothing. Slowly, he half turned his head to address the people behind him.

‘The lad claims the food I’ve served tonight is rotten,’ he called. ‘Is that true? Or is he having me on?’

There were coughs and mumbles as people took hasty sips of their drinks. Come on, you bastards, I told them silently, one of you must have noticed.

‘Well, I didn’t like to say,’ came a voice, crisp and clear in the night, ‘but that fish was rather ghastly.’