"Here!" James called shortly from the kitchen. It was best to be taciturn when they had visitors in the house - there was less chance of someone recognising his voice. Having former schoolmates for enemies - or a fair proportion of your enemies, anyway - made life harder.
There was a rustle of newspaper as he picked up the Prophet as a kind of emergency shield to put before his face, just in case Diana's client wandered into the kitchen to poke around. They did that sort of thing, sometimes; the new masters of the world liked to demonstrate to the underlings that there was nothing you could do to stop them if they chose to rummage through the cupboards, spy on your business - or even steal the bloody butter.