Making the statement didn't take too long, and I knew the man would be held in custody for the weekend and then appear before the bench. I reminded myself to check the list to see if I was to be sitting on that day.
I called into the paper shop on the way to Cass E Dees and bought two boxes of chocs. One for the staff for putting up with us and one for Her Ladyship.
To my surprise, when I entered Cass E Dees, I was greeted by a round of applause led by Sherryl. A little embarrassed, I joined my wife at her table. "And what have you been up to now?", she asked.
"Nothing dear" I replied, "just foiling a crime ‘ring’ and being sure I ‘watch’ over the town", at that point running out of all the jewellery jokes I could muster.
Lady J. shook her head in despair. I'm not sure if it was over the quality of my joke or not.
We ordered a drink and a meal, and while waiting for them to come, I passed Julia her bracelet and chocolates. "Am I to presume you have a guilty conscience?", she asked jokingly.
"Yes my dear", I replied, "I forget to tell you often enough how special you are", hoping to score advance forgiveness for the future.
Lunch came and I passed the staff chocolates over. Typically the girls were pleased and ploughed in right away. I had to get up and find my own sauce.
Julia and I chatted about Lydia and Carlton and I told her what I'd found out.
"Well", she told me, "it's definitely their anniversary today. It'll be easy to check if he gave her the pearls or not won't it?".
So saying, she took out her mobile and rang Lydia. I only heard one side of the conversation of course, and could glean nothing from that. Her call ended but before she could tell me the conversation my phone rang.
"Hullo", I said, "Prosser here".
"Hello David", said the voice of Carlton Ponsonby-Smythe. "Carlton here. I wondered if you and Lady J are free this evening for dinner. It's our anniversary,” (no surprise here), “and there's a little something I'd like to chat to you about".
I assured him we were free and that we'd be delighted to attend and that 8.00 pm would be fine.
I suggested Julia tell me about her call first and couldn't help but grin when she told me that Lydia had completely forgotten the date and was at that moment hotfooting it to get a gift for her husband. In view of her thoughts I hoped it was an expensive one. She hadn't seen him that morning so he didn't know she’d forgotten and of course, she'd replaced the pearls in his jacket last night.
I told Julia of my call and of our invitation to dinner and said at least we'd know about the pearls when we got there.
Lady J. ran me home and then disappeared to the stable for a few hours. I told Grizelda we wouldn't be home for dinner and suggested she take the rest of the day off. I decided to catch up on the mail I'd missed over the last few days on the computer.
I had offers for discounts on over 60s holidays. I had offers to get discounts on holidays for 18-30s like me??
I had offers where my children could be farmed out to strangers in fluorescent jackets.
No one seemed to decide on my age and no one, it appears, pays full price for holidays either, so why don't they just reduce them all so we'd know where we stand?
I had special offers for laser corrected vision. I had offers for colonic irrigation which actually brought tears to my eyes. There were offers on a variety of marital aids which looked like they should be in martial arts advertisements
And I had three messages from Psychic Mara. One told me to contact her to learn of the fortune heading my way. The second to tell me that fortune had passed me by but with her help would come again. The last had a pleading quality asking why I would not answer her so she could predict more good luck.
For heaven’s sake woman, you're a bloody psychic, you should be able to see why I won't answer you. No doubt I'm due for another message telling me I'm on my way to hell.
I worked on the serious messages until 6.00 pm when my wife returned. We sat and had coffee together then went to get changed.
Our arrival at the Ponsonby-Smythe's at 8.00 pm was a surprise, as they had employed someone to park the cars, and someone to escort us in as though we didn't know the way. There were a few guests there, but as we entered Lydia rushed to greet us and lo, she was wearing the pearls along with a very sheepish look when she glanced in my direction.
"David", she said, "so orefully sorree. Plea-has fawget I said anything".
"Forgotten already", I assured her.
The meal was excellent as was the company. At the end the maids cleared away and we men retired to the study for brandy and cigars. Most people chatted generally amongst themselves while Carlton pulled me to one side.
"Sorry to mix business with pleasure old son", he said. "But I have a problem you may be able to help with".
"If I can", I responded.
"I have a shoot next week", he told me, "but I've been losing a lot of birds recently. Old Lord Pritchard who you know has the next estate, seems to have a lot more birds despite having cash flow problems and now he's advertising a shoot the week after. What can I do that doesn't accuse him of theft?"
"I know old Pritchard quite well", I said, "and I doubt he'd steal. But, he would probably buy the birds if offered them. Can you leave it with me?", I asked. He agreed and so having extricated Julia and said I needed to leave, we said our goodbyes and left.
When we were home I kissed Lady J goodnight, changed into some casual clothes, picked up a torch and made my way over the fields to Carlton's estate. I found my way to a stretch of woods central to most of the paths, settled down behind a bush and waited. Though I knew I shouldn't, I enjoyed a quiet cigarette without recriminations or conscience.
Midnight came and went and I heard footsteps quietly approaching. I wanted to see it wasn't Carlton so I didn't move, and gradually the figure came closer to where I sat. The figure was carrying what looked like a sack that looked quite full. As he came within touching distance, I quietly stood and turned on my torch momentarily blinding him.
"Well, well”, I said, "Wally Finnegan. Not much of a surprise here then. Let me have the sack please Wally".
Finnegan realised who it was and passed the sack over the torchlight revealing it to be full of pheasants.
"I found the sack, My Lord", tried Finnegan.
"While you were walking in pitch black woods Wally? Try again, man", I said. "You have two choices Wally, one, you can return these birds where you got them, and bring all the others back by morning and we'll forget this. Unless, of course, Lord Pritchard catches you in the act and calls the police. Two, you can leave this sack with me and expect a call from PC Saddleworth in the morning. You'll appear before the bench on Monday and I'm afraid you'll appear before me".
"No contest, My Lord", said Finnegan, and I knew Carlton would have his stock back by the next morning, though it would take Wally all night and a lot of trips two miles each way.
As for Pritchard, I wasn't too worried for him as he knew Finnegan as well as I did, and must have known the birds were stolen.
I didn't have the heart to tell Finnegan that had he taken the second choice, it would be Pritchard he appeared before on Monday. Had Finnegan taken the second option and appeared in court on Monday, I have no doubt Pritchard would have freed him 'as no proof of poaching produced'.
Some of you not familiar with our customs may not understand a shoot. I hope this helps.
On large estates, pheasant and grouse are bred to be shot. Large corporations or individuals may buy a place at a shoot or be invited. They are placed in a 'stand', which is where they shoot from.
Beaters are paid to go into the undergrowth to disturb the birds which then fly into the air and are shot. Our poacher would remove live stock from one estate to another where they would settle.
Our gentry have been doing this for years and often now large businesses buy estates to run solely for this purpose.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
The Alien
At 9.00 am Lady J had taken a phone call and had then brought the phone to me. "Carlton for you", she said, adding "sorry to disturb you".
I took the receiver and spoke."Morning Carlton, how are you today"?
"David old chap", I heard, "It's a bloody miracle. I don't know how you did it but the birds are back. If I can ever do anything for you don't hesitate".
"Thank you Carlton", I responded, "but there's absolutely no need".
"Anything David, at any time", I heard as his receiver went down.
No longer sleepy, I got up, showered, dressed and joined my wife in the lounge.
"You're looking decidedly smug this morning dear, have you been up to some mischief again?"
"My dear wife", I responded, attempting to muster the most innocent look I could, "I just don't know what you could mean".
"Ysabel has just texted me", she said, changing the subject. "She'll be on the 10.15 train and asked us to meet her at the station. She's popping to see us for the day".
"Wonderful", I replied. "I'll just finish my tea and get my shoes".
I should explain here that Ysabel is learning to drive but hasn't taken a test yet as she feels unready. She's very independent and says she'll do it in her own good time. The world's pedestrians can breathe again.
We no longer have a station in the village since Dr Beeching decided to save money by removing most of the rural stations and half the lines. We now have to go to the nearest station in a town about 12 miles away.
I pulled on my shoes and glanced out of the window. Slightly hazy looking, but it looked as though the sun might break through. So I thought I'd tempt fate by not taking a jacket.
The journey took about 15 minutes and we got there with 10 minutes to spare. For some strange reason we were both in high spirits and played a game while we waited. It was one we used to play years ago, where we chose passersby at random and told each other what jobs we thought they had. At one time we even invented lives for them like Russian spy in hiding.
Anyway, "Nanny", said Lady J as one matronly woman passed. "Cook", said I.
"Solicitor", she said about a smart looking man with a pencil moustache.
"City trader", I said, "Or maybe doctor".
"Now David", said a stern Julia, "you can't have two guesses about the same man".
Just then Ysabel's train arrived and I got out to meet her. As I did so I saw the smart man greet someone from the same train and I heard the incomer say, "Good morning Jenkins. Did you bring the brief with you?"
No way was I going to tell Julia she'd been right. She'd gloat all day. Instead I gave Ysabel a great big hug and walked with her to the car.
One of us decided that as we were in town shopping would be a good idea. But first stop… coffee!
This town has a nice little arcade of shops built in a square, at the centre of which is a car park. We parked up and headed for Felicitations, a smart little coffee bar that also sells exclusive little gifts and even more exclusive handmade chocolates.
I held the door open for the ladies to enter, thinking in my calculating way that they'd reach the counter first and order the drinks. The stupidity of some people... ME.
The first section of the shop is the chocolates and there wasn't a way to prise them out of there short of using a crowbar. I waited for the words all men dread to hear, and didn't have to wait long.
"David, have you some change please? I seem to have forgotten my purse".
Half a dozen 24ct gold priced chocolates later (times two), we reached the second section of the shop, cards and gifts. Ysabel wanted a leaving gift for a colleague at work. Lady J had no needs but was showing all the signs of a 'want', wandering eyes, tongue licking lips (or should that be tongue licked lips?).
I tried suggesting that the cafe was filling up and we might not get a seat... grunt. I may as well have spoken in Urdu. Out came the wallet and into a bag went a comical metal figure designed to fit over a wine bottle, so very humorous, huh. Bag in hand, we set off only to be brought to a shuddering halt at the comical wine bottle stoppers. I have to admit that the horse rider was very appropriate wearing all the regalia of a dressage rider, but there was also one of a horse, and a jolly chap with a shotgun that the baron would be bound to like, oh, oh, and the pole dancer that would so amuse dear Mumu. My poor wallet tried to get a grip on my back pocket but the attacks seemed relentless.
Eventually we reached the cafe and ordered the drinks. There were still plenty of seats which earned me the aside, "I told you not to worry", from Lady J, indicating that she must understand Urdu as well. I was not unnoticed, merely ignored.
We sat and the drinks were brought to the table. A pot of tea for me, a small orange juice for Ysabel and for Julia a coffee served in what looked like a giant vase that must have needed four Nubian eunuchs to carry. I don't know how she always finds something everywhere she goes to top her caffeine levels up like that.
We chatted about Ysabel’s work for a large American bank and about her friends. She reminded us of a wedding we have to attend for one of her missionary friends, and how the groom would be flying over before the ceremony. I understand him to be a witch doctor, so I'm not yet sure about his mode of transport.
We talked of things that had happened since we last saw her, even though Lady J would have told her them in their daily phone calls. It's almost as if being there made the events seem more real.
Finally we finished, and Ysabel told us the visit was to see if we could help her find some throws for her settee. I could see this might be a marathon.
We started in the shop next door - 'Pennystretchers, we make your cash go further'. I thought mine had gone far enough already, thank you.
There were throws aplenty and we looked, touched and unfolded most of them, but to no avail. There just wasn't the right colour or texture. Round the other shops (yes, I know it was a square) in turn we went including for some reason the ones that don't sell throws. Until we actually found some. Such a relief!! Then I heard her say to Julia, "Of course they're not quite the right colour, but if we go back to the first shop I think they have curtains that'll match these". I'm a man who enjoys shopping but Ysabel is unbelievable.
By now it was 4.00 pm and my stomach was sending messages to my brain to loosen the scarf around my neck to let the food through. My hints to the girls fell on stony ground as the shops were still open.
Finally they closed and believe it or not some still had stock left. Ysabel asked us to drop her at the station but with that amount of bags we couldn't let that happen and said we'd run her home. But, we had to stop for a pub meal on the way.
We found one that didn't look as though it served soup in a basket and settled in a corner with the menu. I decided not to eat that despite the ketchup stains.
The girls settle for grilled halibut while I went for the healthy option of gammon, egg and chips. It's the healthy option as I'm allergic to fish, remember. It arrived quickly and tasted great.
We eventually dropped Ysabel off and started home. The traffic had picked up on the way in, so we opted for an alternative route back. I did promise Lady J I wouldn't write this, but the detour we took was not traffic related. It was because when I told her to turn right she said, “which right?”, and turned left. As it was my fault for not answering quickly enough I thought I'd add it as revenge.
Anyway, we were approaching home when we saw a helicopter flying low overhead. It seemed to go back and forth over an area of woods close to home, and I could see lights and steam rising. I asked Julia to stop the car and I got out to look over the wall at the edge of the road, and see if I could see what was going on. The helicopter turned with its lights blazing down and they blinded me for a moment. I heard it fly off. As my eyes adjusted I saw something coming towards me and heard heavy footsteps. I saw it! It must have been 7ft tall and it was green. I
turned round and leapt back into the car telling Julia to drive quickly to the police station, just as the beast reached me. It took its head off and spoke, "Excuse me", it said, strangely polite for an alien
"Do you know of a pub nearby with rooms? I've been filming all day and didn't finish. They're going to need me again tomorrow".
Rather embarrassed and taken aback I said we'd gladly give him a lift to the village pub The Fursty Ferret. He accepted and climbed aboard.
Lady Julia knowing no pity smirked at me and said, "Police station first, is it dear?"
Sunday, August 1, 2010
The Car Boot Sale
Sunday morning in the height of the British summer and it wasn’t raining. I could say that with some confidence as, although it was only 6.50 am, it was light outside. It did feel as though the central heating should have been on though.
You must be asking yourself what I was doing up at that time on a Sunday instead of being snuggled down still reviewing the 'Bay Watch' girls in my dreams. The answer is simple...The Bloody Phone!
It rang this morning at 6.45 am, it rang and it rang and I knew it would ring again if I didn't get up and answer it, so I did. On the other end of the line was Caslav, who up until that point, I could swear did not know that there were two seven o'clocks in a day.
"David", he started, "Shake a leg man".
"John", I interrupted, “do you know what time it is?"
"Come on", he said, “I’ve had a call to tell me there's a huge car boot sale on today just outside Barchester. We have to go. Meet you there at 8.00 am", and his receiver went down so he never heard me swear.
'Damn', I thought, ‘no church today then’.
For those of you who recognise the benefits of a Sunday morning lie-in, I shall explain about car boot sales. A big British phenomenon, someone who has a large space like a field will rent space to people who want to sell all their household junk… sorry, treasures. The cars are all parked in rows and from their boots come pasting tables on to which they pile the strangest things. Odd rolls of wallpaper, half a cruet, their children’s old clothes and toys etc. I've been told they can be fun and that also genuine 'finds' can be made. Though I've never met anyone who has yet found a Picasso and it's a matter of opinion whether the person who does is actually lucky.
My Barsetshire Diary (The Barsetshire Diaries Book 1) Page 8