“Two teas,” said Mrs Pimplenick, dropping the teacups in front of the Jennings at the breakfast table. Some tea sloshed around in the saucer.
“Oh, we thought we might have orange juice this morning,” said Sir John.
Mrs Pimplenick went red.
“But I’ve made tea!” she said and left the table. Sir John went to the sugar pot and saw it was empty. He turned round to say something and saw Mrs Pimplenick staring at him.
“Thursday,” she said by way of explanation.
Sir John took a sip of his tea and pulled a face. Mrs Pimplenick was still staring at him.
“Very nice,” he said and the landlady left, a sour look on her face. Marie took the opportunity to pour her tea into a nearby plant pot. She stroked the plant’s leaves and apologised to it.
“I was thinking overnight about this strange re-appearance,” said Sir John. “I think we need to speak to Wombly, try and find out what he remembers.”
“I was thinking to speak with the priest,” said Marie.
“That’s a good idea too, we can find him as well,” said Sir John.
“Maybe it would be better if I went alone,” said Marie, “Lord ‘Ollingbury may … set the priest off a little. I think he likes to irritate ‘im. Amongst everyone else.”
“Yes, fair point,” said Sir John, “well I can keep Lord Hollingbury occupied with the search for Wombly.”
The delivery man from a few days before entered the front room, preceded by an aroma of fish.
“Got the latest delivery, Mrs P,” he called out. He turned round and saw the Jennings and smiled sheepishly.
“Morning to you,” he said.
“I have remarked more than once on the correct entrance to use,” announced Mrs Pimplenick grandly, arriving from the kitchen.
“Sorry Mrs P,” said the man, “but it’s a devil to shift them that far. Oh sorry – do mind my French.”
“Pas de problem,” said Marie and the man looked surprised.
“Yes, well, next time perchance you’ll remember,” said Mrs Pimplenick.
“Have you heard the latest news,” said the man. “About the promenade?”
“I’m sure Sir Jenkins doesn’t want to hear some local tittle tattle,” said Mrs Pimplenick and started to lead the man into the kitchen. The man unconsciously took off his hat and stared at the Jennings with awe.
“Actually, we wouldn’t mind at all,” said Sir John.
“Well, it’s been destroyed hasn’t it,” said the man, whilst Mrs Pimplenick looked on in annoyance.
“The promenade?” said Sir John.
“No, the latest attraction, the merry-go-round for the little ones. The paint wasn’t even dry on it and it was taken apart over night and broken up. Who’d do such a thing, eh?”
“It must be outsiders,” said Mrs Pimplenick, “like when those scoundrels from London with sticks had a fight with those gentleman who laughed at them.”
“Oh yes,” said the deliveryman, “the rods and the mockers.”
He was dragged into the kitchen and some strong sounding language came from behind the door.
“Well then,” said Sir John, “it seems like we have three things to investigate.”
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