of them was booked solid for this coming Thursday. But now you’re here, and you
are
Tom’s cousin, and”—her laugh was giddily nervous—“as the saying goes, family is family.”
“Blood’s thicker than water,” Ariel chanted.
“I think what Betty is trying to say”—Tom twiddled with his coffee spoon, set it down, then picked it up again—“well, to put it in a nutshell, Ben, it’s like this. If you and Ellie would consider staying on here for a few days—that’s if you can spare the time and don’t need to rush back home—we’d be no end appreciative of your help in getting us out of this fix.”
Ben’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I think we can manage that, don’t you, Ellie? It’ll be like the old days at Uncle Sol’s. Those were some good times.”
“I suppose they were.” Tom looked awkward. “Working that old-fashioned cash register. Perhaps I didn’t get as much out of it as I should.” This not sounding quite right, his fair skin reddened. “What I mean to say is, I don’t think I was cut out to be behind the till.”
“We should have stayed in touch,” said Ben.
“It’s been a lot of years.”
“Tom! Do stop twiddling!” Betty scolded.
“Sorry.” Tom dropped his coffee spoon with a silvery clatter into his saucer.
Betty turned to me. “You said Ben would agree. Some women do know their husbands. Can you persuade him to also work his magic for tomorrow’s afternoon tea?”
“A mini trial run, what could be better? But I’ll need mysupport team.” His smile took in Tom and Ariel but lingered on Mrs. Malloy, who was looking seriously put out.
“Well, I don’t know as I can say what’ll I’ll be doing or where I’ll be tomorrow afternoon, Mr. H,” she responded huffily. “It could be my sister will beg me to stay with her. Then again, maybe she won’t and I’ll find meself a nice hotel with one of them services offering back massages and facials.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” cried Betty in alarm. “I meant for you to stay on here as well; I assumed that would be understood. We want you to feel like one of the family, just as you do at Merlin’s Court.”
“I’ll need time away to see me sister,” Mrs. Malloy said firmly.
“Her employer, Mr. Scrimshank, is invited to tomorrow’s tea.” Betty inspected chipped nail polish. “It seemed a good idea, considering his friendship with Lady Fiona.”
“In that case it’s good I’ll be here to meet him.”
“Lady Fiona is also invited. Mr. Scrimshank claims to have received a phone call from Mr. Gallagher after his disappearance. It was then the police decided there was no further need to investigate.”
“Yes, do stay, Mrs. Malloy! You’re such fun!” Ariel’s eyes sparkled, and again I noticed some pink in her cheeks. Perhaps she would turn into a pretty young woman. But would she be a nice one? That was the question. Was there any point in asking her if it was she who had canceled the caterer?
“Fun? Not when I’m working, I’m not. Can’t be any frolicking about when there’s important jobs to be done. That’s spelled out in the charter of the CFCWA.”
“A local business organization of which Mrs. Malloy is a founding member and two-time chairwoman,” I explained, for the benefit of Tom and Betty’s blank looks.
“The Chitterton Fells Charwomen’s Association.” Mrs. M’s posture merited her royal purple ensemble. The turn of her head suggested the necessity of keeping a crown on straight. As chairwoman she wore one when presiding at annual meetings, and doubtless the memory lingered. “We have strict rules, Mrs. Hopkins, about honing in on another professional’s territory. I wouldn’t want to go upsetting Mrs. Cake by taking over her sink and cupboards like they was me own. She seemed a nice person. Sad to see her sitting with her foot up on a cushion while we was getting lunch. Had to make her feel out of things. Spoke to me very nice, she did. Told me where to
are
Tom’s cousin, and”—her laugh was giddily nervous—“as the saying goes, family is family.”
“Blood’s thicker than water,” Ariel chanted.
“I think what Betty is trying to say”—Tom twiddled with his coffee spoon, set it down, then picked it up again—“well, to put it in a nutshell, Ben, it’s like this. If you and Ellie would consider staying on here for a few days—that’s if you can spare the time and don’t need to rush back home—we’d be no end appreciative of your help in getting us out of this fix.”
Ben’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I think we can manage that, don’t you, Ellie? It’ll be like the old days at Uncle Sol’s. Those were some good times.”
“I suppose they were.” Tom looked awkward. “Working that old-fashioned cash register. Perhaps I didn’t get as much out of it as I should.” This not sounding quite right, his fair skin reddened. “What I mean to say is, I don’t think I was cut out to be behind the till.”
“We should have stayed in touch,” said Ben.
“It’s been a lot of years.”
“Tom! Do stop twiddling!” Betty scolded.
“Sorry.” Tom dropped his coffee spoon with a silvery clatter into his saucer.
Betty turned to me. “You said Ben would agree. Some women do know their husbands. Can you persuade him to also work his magic for tomorrow’s afternoon tea?”
“A mini trial run, what could be better? But I’ll need mysupport team.” His smile took in Tom and Ariel but lingered on Mrs. Malloy, who was looking seriously put out.
“Well, I don’t know as I can say what’ll I’ll be doing or where I’ll be tomorrow afternoon, Mr. H,” she responded huffily. “It could be my sister will beg me to stay with her. Then again, maybe she won’t and I’ll find meself a nice hotel with one of them services offering back massages and facials.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” cried Betty in alarm. “I meant for you to stay on here as well; I assumed that would be understood. We want you to feel like one of the family, just as you do at Merlin’s Court.”
“I’ll need time away to see me sister,” Mrs. Malloy said firmly.
“Her employer, Mr. Scrimshank, is invited to tomorrow’s tea.” Betty inspected chipped nail polish. “It seemed a good idea, considering his friendship with Lady Fiona.”
“In that case it’s good I’ll be here to meet him.”
“Lady Fiona is also invited. Mr. Scrimshank claims to have received a phone call from Mr. Gallagher after his disappearance. It was then the police decided there was no further need to investigate.”
“Yes, do stay, Mrs. Malloy! You’re such fun!” Ariel’s eyes sparkled, and again I noticed some pink in her cheeks. Perhaps she would turn into a pretty young woman. But would she be a nice one? That was the question. Was there any point in asking her if it was she who had canceled the caterer?
“Fun? Not when I’m working, I’m not. Can’t be any frolicking about when there’s important jobs to be done. That’s spelled out in the charter of the CFCWA.”
“A local business organization of which Mrs. Malloy is a founding member and two-time chairwoman,” I explained, for the benefit of Tom and Betty’s blank looks.
“The Chitterton Fells Charwomen’s Association.” Mrs. M’s posture merited her royal purple ensemble. The turn of her head suggested the necessity of keeping a crown on straight. As chairwoman she wore one when presiding at annual meetings, and doubtless the memory lingered. “We have strict rules, Mrs. Hopkins, about honing in on another professional’s territory. I wouldn’t want to go upsetting Mrs. Cake by taking over her sink and cupboards like they was me own. She seemed a nice person. Sad to see her sitting with her foot up on a cushion while we was getting lunch. Had to make her feel out of things. Spoke to me very nice, she did. Told me where to
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