I put most of them back in the bag, replaced it in the freezer and left a small amount in water to defrost. I then felt obliged to mop the kitchen floor with disinfectant in case it might smell of prawns.
The whole incident left me feeling disproportionately exhausted and I was just sitting down to recover when the telephone rang and it was Anthea.
‘Sheila, what do you know about this concert they’re having in the Methodist hall?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Who’s organising it?’ she said impatiently. ‘They’ve got that string quartet
we
always have for the concert at Brunswick Lodge for the restoration appeal.’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea. Doesn’t it say on the poster?’
‘There isn’t a poster, just a notice in this week’s
Free Press
– surely you’ve seen it.’
‘Well, actually, as it happens I haven’t had time to look at the
Free Press
.’
Anthea, who always reads the paper from cover to cover the minute it comes out every Friday, gave an exclamation of surprise and disbelief. ‘Well anyway,’ she continued, ‘I’d very much like to know who’s behind it.’ She made it sound like a revolutionary plot. ‘I mean, we’ve
always
had that quartet and now if these people – whoever they are – are going to use them as well for their fundraising concerts, everyone is going to be very
confused
.’
‘I don’t see why they should. I mean, when they played for us it was at Brunswick Lodge. Quite different.’
‘Well,’ Anthea said, clearly unconvinced, ‘if you find out who these people are, let me know. Now what I want to ask you is can you help Monica with the coffee morning on Wednesday. Mrs Galbraith was going to do it but they’ve brought her hipreplacement forward so she’ll be going into hospital on Monday.’
‘Well…’
‘It’s only for a couple of hours, I’m sure you can manage that.’
Since Fate and Anthea can never be denied I said that yes I’d do it.
‘Oh good. And if you should happen to be making some scones, they’re always welcome.’
Sighing, I went out into the kitchen to mark Wednesday’s date on the calendar and let in the animals, who rushed in anxious to see what had been going on in their enforced absence. It had been raining and they were both wet and muddy, so I had to dry them both, which they hate, thereby getting pretty muddy myself. Foss, when he escaped, immediately crouched down beside the fridge, hooked out a prawn that had escaped my notice, and began to eat it noisily. Tris, put out by this, began whining for food, so I had to get out the dry food for them both and was just putting the packets away when the doorbell rang.
As I went to answer it I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in the hall, looking dishevelled and with a streak of dirt down the side of my face, and hoped that my caller wasn’t someone who’d think this was my normal appearance. My caller, in fact, was Roger Eliot.
‘Good heavens,’ he said, ‘what
have
you been up to?’
‘Come in,’ I said. ‘It’s been one of those mornings!’
I led the way into the kitchen, put the kettle on and got out the tin of chocolate digestives. I also got the kitchen towel and wiped my face vigorously.
‘It’s lovely to see you,’ I said, ‘but I imagine it’s business and you’re not just dropping in for a chat.’
‘I’m afraid so – though the tea and biscuits are a welcome addition.’
‘I suppose it’s about Bernard Prior. I was coming down to the station – Bob Harris said you’d be there this morning – but, as you can see, minor domestic problems have held me up.’
‘It’s nicer,’ Roger said, taking a second biscuit, ‘like this.’
‘We did make statements – Bernard’s wife Janet and I – the night it happened.’
‘Yes, I’ve seen those. Pretty coherent, I thought, after what must have been a horrible experience for you both.’
‘Well, yes it was, but do you know, somehow, at the time it didn’t seem real –
The whole incident left me feeling disproportionately exhausted and I was just sitting down to recover when the telephone rang and it was Anthea.
‘Sheila, what do you know about this concert they’re having in the Methodist hall?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Who’s organising it?’ she said impatiently. ‘They’ve got that string quartet
we
always have for the concert at Brunswick Lodge for the restoration appeal.’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea. Doesn’t it say on the poster?’
‘There isn’t a poster, just a notice in this week’s
Free Press
– surely you’ve seen it.’
‘Well, actually, as it happens I haven’t had time to look at the
Free Press
.’
Anthea, who always reads the paper from cover to cover the minute it comes out every Friday, gave an exclamation of surprise and disbelief. ‘Well anyway,’ she continued, ‘I’d very much like to know who’s behind it.’ She made it sound like a revolutionary plot. ‘I mean, we’ve
always
had that quartet and now if these people – whoever they are – are going to use them as well for their fundraising concerts, everyone is going to be very
confused
.’
‘I don’t see why they should. I mean, when they played for us it was at Brunswick Lodge. Quite different.’
‘Well,’ Anthea said, clearly unconvinced, ‘if you find out who these people are, let me know. Now what I want to ask you is can you help Monica with the coffee morning on Wednesday. Mrs Galbraith was going to do it but they’ve brought her hipreplacement forward so she’ll be going into hospital on Monday.’
‘Well…’
‘It’s only for a couple of hours, I’m sure you can manage that.’
Since Fate and Anthea can never be denied I said that yes I’d do it.
‘Oh good. And if you should happen to be making some scones, they’re always welcome.’
Sighing, I went out into the kitchen to mark Wednesday’s date on the calendar and let in the animals, who rushed in anxious to see what had been going on in their enforced absence. It had been raining and they were both wet and muddy, so I had to dry them both, which they hate, thereby getting pretty muddy myself. Foss, when he escaped, immediately crouched down beside the fridge, hooked out a prawn that had escaped my notice, and began to eat it noisily. Tris, put out by this, began whining for food, so I had to get out the dry food for them both and was just putting the packets away when the doorbell rang.
As I went to answer it I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror in the hall, looking dishevelled and with a streak of dirt down the side of my face, and hoped that my caller wasn’t someone who’d think this was my normal appearance. My caller, in fact, was Roger Eliot.
‘Good heavens,’ he said, ‘what
have
you been up to?’
‘Come in,’ I said. ‘It’s been one of those mornings!’
I led the way into the kitchen, put the kettle on and got out the tin of chocolate digestives. I also got the kitchen towel and wiped my face vigorously.
‘It’s lovely to see you,’ I said, ‘but I imagine it’s business and you’re not just dropping in for a chat.’
‘I’m afraid so – though the tea and biscuits are a welcome addition.’
‘I suppose it’s about Bernard Prior. I was coming down to the station – Bob Harris said you’d be there this morning – but, as you can see, minor domestic problems have held me up.’
‘It’s nicer,’ Roger said, taking a second biscuit, ‘like this.’
‘We did make statements – Bernard’s wife Janet and I – the night it happened.’
‘Yes, I’ve seen those. Pretty coherent, I thought, after what must have been a horrible experience for you both.’
‘Well, yes it was, but do you know, somehow, at the time it didn’t seem real –
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