by A. E. Radley
Kit was about to give him a piece of her mind, after all most of Laura’s busyness was due to the work on their family firm, securing his pension fund and keeping him in pricy pyjamas. While Tom did nothing more than the occasional networking event. But he wandered off and Kit was aware of having left Shannon waiting.
“Shannon? You still there?”
“Yep.”
“Sorry, that was Tom. To be honest, I didn’t know he was here. He’s usually out until early morning. Anyway, he didn’t hear anything. Where were we?”
“We decided I’m going to keep an eye on Josh and Matt and see if they giggle about stealing Pinky. You’re going to chat to Steve about his date, without giving away why you’re talking to him.”
“Great. I’ll get back to you when I’ve quizzed Steve.”
“All right, I’ll ring or text if there’s any more info.”
They said their goodnights and Kit padded back to the bedroom. She replaced the blanket and the phone, before gingerly getting back under the duvet. She closed her eyes and searched for sleep. It was hard with her mind wanting to dig further into the mystery of Pinky. Who takes a sex toy? And why?
Then Laura’s arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back into spooning. Kit gave a happy sigh, snuggled in and slowed her breathing. Suddenly, sleep was on the cards again.
EIGHT DAYS ’TIL CHRISTMAS
Kit rushed along the high street on Greengage square. She was on her afternoon break but had decided to spend it in the search for Pinky instead of having tea in the library’s tiny excuse of a kitchen.
She shivered and thrust her hands into the pockets of her winter coat. Considering it was now the 17th of December it would have been nice if there'd been a dusting of snow. Instead it was windy and the pavements were slick with rain that had fallen this morning. Still, the weather hadn't slowed down the Christmas market which was now in full whack. The little wooden huts had all been filled by Greengage locals, selling everything from home-made cakes to knitted scarves to pottery of varying quality.
Kit side-eyed the huts. She’d hoped that the start of the Christmas market would mean Laura now had more time for her. Instead, Laura was now busy trying to manage the issues that had been brought up when the market was in full swing. This included Greengagers fighting over who got the best hut, how to fund the extra electricity bill, how loud the Christmas music was allowed to be played. And if Santa Baby was an appropriate song despite the possible euphemism of the lines “come and trim my Christmas tree.”
Kit had asked if there was anything she could do to help. Laura had groaned and suggested that she keep well away from the events committee. Adding, “please be patient and know that I miss you.”
Kit looked away from the Christmas market. She wasn’t wasting her tea break on that, she was heading to Steve Hallard’s newsagent… or off license… whatever he called his little shop on the other side of the square. She had popped in the night after the phone call with Shannon to interview Steve about his date, only to be told by the teen behind the counter that Steve was visiting relatives on the mainland. Even more annoyingly, he wouldn’t return until the 17th of December.
Now, here she was, on her way to go speak to the man who had once given her a warning about hurting Greengage’s favourite daughter. That she could forgive, it was nice that the islanders were as fond of - and loyal to - Laura as she was to them. What was harder to swallow was that he’d done it on the night when Kit and Laura were about to be intimate for the first time.
Although it wasn't his fault, that whole night was a disaster. Funny in hindsight, but still a disaster.
With a look at her watch, Kit speed-walked the last bit and stepped inside. She peered past all the magazines, sweets, and random bits of stationary to the counter. Yes, Steve was back and busy at work.
She waited until he had finished serving his customer, then sauntered over while taking her thick scarf off.
“Hey there Steve. You all right, mate?”
“Hello Kit.” He did a double take. “Huh, weird to see you out of your uniform, you know, the biker jacket and those tatty, green trainers.”
Kit fought to keep an offended look off her features.
It’s a fitted leatherjacket and a pair of blue Converse. Faded perhaps but not tatty.
Unware of her thoughts, Steve was chuckling as his own comment before adding, “I'm doing well thanks. You?"
She cleared her throat. “Doing all right. Well, except for that I'm struggling to get into the holiday cheer.”
“Ah, that’s a shame.”
“I suppose it is. Anyway, I'm trying not to whinge about it. After all, it’ll be Christmas no matter how I feel about it.”
“True enough. So, is there anything I can get you?”
Kit undid her coat, trying not to roast in the warm shop. “No not really. I popped in to see how you were. Did you have a good week with your family?”
“I did. I had to see them now as they bugger off to Mallorca over Christmas.” He examined her. “It’s nice of you to take such an interest in what I’m doing. Unusual… but nice.”
Kit tried to look casual. “I suppose with Laura being so busy with the events committee stuff regarding the Christmas market and all the Gage Farm business, I need people to chat to. Speaking of which, I was talking to Shannon a few days ago.”
His features softened. “Ah, Shannon’s a love, isn’t she?”
“She is.” Kit glanced around as if checking anyone was listening. “You know, she mentioned that you had a hot date a while back?"
He scratched his balding head. “I had a date. I don’t know about ‘hot’, though.”
“Not Miss Right, huh?"
“She was lovely but not my type. My cousin up in London works with her and thought that we’d be a good match because were both what he calls ‘wholesome’. However, in her case ‘wholesome’ means she likes to keep her interactions platypus. No, that’s not it. Plap… Plat...”
“Platonic?” Kit suggested.
He clicked his fingers. “That’s the one.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. But she strongly disliked romance, sex and such. When I talked about finding a lover to settle down with, she said that no one used their brains anymore, it was all about swollen crotches and soppy hearts. She hadn’t even wanted to go on a date, she only agreed because she owed my cousin a favour.”
Sounds like she’d neither know what Pinky was or have an interest in stealing it. Unless she took it on principle, to make sure no one else has sex?
“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that, Steve. Sounds like she was pretty preachy about it, was she mean to you because you liked sex?”
He gave her a questioning glance but answered. “No, she didn’t seem to mind people who had amorous encounters, just pity them and try to avoid them, I’d say.”
Kit fussed with her scarf, wondering if she should’ve put in more small talk before the interrogation. “Shannon mentioned that you and your date swung by their place? Were you looking for sympathy? Or merely hoping they’d offer you a stiff drink to get you through the date?”
The jokes seemed to relax him again and he chuckled before saying, “We went there to see Rachel. She’s great at breaking the ice and providing normal chit chat. I often seek her out to pitch in when my own social skills let me down. Anything else you wanted to know about my love life, nosey Londoner?”
Kit laughed. “As said I'm clearly getting lonely and bothering anyone who’ll chat to me. You’ll be safe now, though, I have to get back to work. We’ll have to catch up more soon. I’m sorry that your date didn't work out.”
“It’s all right. You know, I actually think she and I could’ve been good friends or a platonic couple. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she loves tweed. Can’t stand tweed. Never could. Can you imagine being with someone who wears a tweed jacket with tweed trousers and has a tweedy scarf over her hair? Who does that?"
Kit se
arched for an answer. “Um. She did, I suppose? Well, I guess it was sign that it wasn’t meant to be if you couldn’t overlook the fabric of her clothes.”
He squinted at her.
Great. You pissed him off.
When would she learn that logic and common sense didn't work with people on Greengage? They had their hang-ups, their superstitions and foibles by the bucket loads. Questioning these things never got her anywhere.
“That’s none of my business, though,” Kit said with what she hoped was a winning smile. “I should get going. Thanks again for the chat.”
Steve got distracted by another customer coming in, one he looked happier to see. “That’s all right, Kit,” he said absently. “Keep an eye on our Laura for us and try to enjoy Christmas. After all you only get one per year and it’s only eight days left ‘til the big day now!”
The other customer squealed with delight and Kit took her chance to sneak out before they broke out in Christmas carols.
When outside, Kit stopped to button her coat and put her scarf back on. The Christmas market was brimming with people despite the work week not being over.
Oh Greengage, you’re showing your age with all these pensioners.
Kit headed back to the library. When she passed a group of people by a hut selling rocks painted as Mr and Mrs Santa Claus, she heard a man say, “why the market didn't open earlier, I’ll never know. Who blooming well wants a Christmas market that starts in the middle of December? It’ll only be open for a few days."
The woman next to him nodded. “Aye, it shows what happens when you trust the events committee to arrange these things. The council should’ve been in charge of it. It’s that snooty Laura Howard and her posh friends, spending all their time chatting about cricket and where to store your gold bars.”
True to her London upbringing, Kit was about to scoff and then storm off. But this was Greengage. Here, if you had the answer, you supplied it. If nothing else, then because rumours grew. If Kit didn’t put a stop to this now, soon everyone’d be saying that the events committee was busy dipping their privates in gold and playing cricket with them.
So Kit took a deep breath, pushed her glasses up and said, “Sorry to interfer but I’ve got to correct you. It’s this late due to the huts used as stalls only becoming available a short while ago. And that was when the committee’s Mabel Baxter and Ethel Rosenthal, both penniless pensioners I hasten to add, came up with the idea of having the market.” They stared at Kit as if she was some exotic animal who had wandered into their midst, so she carried on. “If it’s a success, it’ll be planned better and further in advance next year. So, get buying some Santa rocks here, and try to be nice to the few tourists we’ve gathered, and you can have the market on the first of December next year.” Kit began to walk off but stopped, turned and added, “Oh, and Laura Howard is the only reason that the Christmas market happened at all. The council didn’t care and the others on the events committee couldn’t arrange a piss-up in a brewery. She’s giving up time she doesn’t have to try and make this work out. I’d suggest showing her some respect.”
A few heartbeats of silence ensued.
Kit went to leave again, but then the man who had first spoken beckoned to her. “Good afternoon, Kit. It is Kit isn't it? I'm a proud library user, so I know who you are. Actually, I think everyone on the island does.” He looked to the others, who all nodded. “You made quite the splash when you became involved with Laura. I guess that’s why you know as much about this as you do. And, you have a point, of course. We’re simply whinging, as you do in good company on a cold winter’s day. Nothing personal, everyone loves little Laura Howard.”
“Mm. Then maybe you give her a break? She’s posh but not rich and she certainly doesn’t sit around chatting.” Kit smiled to take the sting out of her words and added, “enjoy the market and as I say, try to buy as much as you can to support it. I hope to see you at the library.”
With a wave, Kit headed back to the library. Now with more of a sense of the sort of people her girlfriend had to deal with on a daily basis. It amplified the lovesick longing in Kit’s heart. She picked up her phone and called Laura. Ready to press Laura on if she was celebrating Christmas at Howard Hall with her brother or walking over to Kit’s cottage to spend the day with her.
Then, with a groan, she remembered how stressed Laura was and how little she could determine what her schedule would be like. More importantly, Kit remembered what she’d just told those complainers back there.
Give her a break.
Kit put the phone away. She could wait until Laura had time and energy to call her.
PINKY OF THE BELLS
After dinner that night, Kit phoned Shannon. As she waited for a reply, she scratched Phyllis behind one of her unevenly sized ears. Rajesh was on a date tonight and Kit, still lonely, had offered to babysit the lazy bulldog mix even though Phyllis was fine on her own.
Phyllis lifted her head and leaned into the scratching, which was the first time Kit had seen her move all night. After a few rings Shannon finally picked up.
“Hiya Kit. What’s up?”
“Hey. Not much. Is this a bad time?”
“No, the pub’s quiet. Apparently, most of our regulars are out bell ringing.”
“Really? Well, it’s Greengage so I suppose bell ringing is actually one of the more normal things happening around here.” Kit kept scratching behind Phyllis’ ear. Maybe if she kept the mutt awake, Kit could get her to come along for her evening walk. “Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I’ve spoken to Steve. It seems his date was the asexual, aromantic, cerebral type who only wanted to get off the island fast. I very much doubt that she would’ve stolen Pinky.”
“Ah, bugger. Oh well, it was worth a try."
“Agreed. If we can’t find the culprit we might have to revisit, but as I say, she seems like an unlikely candidate to me.”
“Mm. So, what’s the next move?”
Kit noticed a sound like a small tractor and realised it was Phyllis snoring. She stopped scratching the sleeping dog’s ear. “I suppose the next thing to do is talk to Rajesh.”
“Sure. I have to say though, I can’t think why he would take Pinky. Unless he meant to use it as a hand blender for when he makes those weirdly bitter curries?”
Kit laughed. “I doubt it, but I’ll ask. Unless it turns out to be Rajesh, I should probably talk to Matt and Josh next. I know you've spoken to them but they might be more likely to confess if I’m asking."
"True. I have to say though, lately they’ve been droning on and on about trying to be more mature. So, as I said before, I really don’t think they had anything to do with this.”
“Okay, well, it doesn't hurt to keep asking. Pinky has to be somewhere."
“You’re right. Thank you for carrying on with the search. Rachel’s still in a dreadful mood and her tetchiness seems to be switching to sadness, which is even harder for me to deal with. Breaks my heart when she's not happy.”
“I know what you mean. Earlier today I heard someone complain about how Laura's arranged the Christmas market. Not only did it make me defensive it also made me think of how much time she’s spent on this and for how little reward. I wish I could fix that."
Shannon hummed. “Well, as I’m sure you know, Laura doesn't do these things because she wants a reward. She simply wants to do something nice for the people around her. Helping others makes her happy.”
Kit couldn't help smiling so wide it made her cheeks ache. “That's true. Anyway, I’ll swing by tomorrow night and talk to the guys. That sound okay?”
“Sure, pop in anytime you want. We’re here every night except Sundays.”
“Okay, great. Bye,” Kit said and hung up.
She quickly tapped out a text to Laura:
Hey baby, I hope you’re okay. I love you and I’m so proud of all the work you do. Don’t stress about getting back to me. I know you love me and miss me. Almost as much as I miss you. (Kidding!)
&nb
sp; Then she poked Phyllis in the fattest part of her belly and said, “right you! Since it’s too cold for me to go for my daily run and too cold for you to play in the park, we’re gonna take a long walk.”
Phyllis made a groaning sound, making Kit chuckle. “None of that, lazy. Let’s go get your favourite squeaky toy and then is walkies.”
Next morning at the library, Kit stole a quiet moment to chat with her ex landlord.
“Rajesh, can I ask you something?”
He stopped humming Carol of the Bells and knitted his bushy eyebrows. “Even if I say no, you’ll ask.” He shook his head at her. “At least now I only have to put up with it at work. I hated when you’d start asking me questions when we’d barely woken up.”
Kit rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re comatose at the breakfast table. Anyway, it’s only a quick question.”
“Fine. Ask, but I’m going to keep working.”
“Sure. So, um, when you last visited Rachel and Shannon, did you happen to pick up something that you might have found lying around?”
“What are you on about, Katherine?”
Kit fidgeted with her glasses. “Um, well, Shannon said that they had lost something. I think she said it was something… Pink?”
“Pink? No, I certainly didn't pick up anything pink. There’s nothing to pick up at their house anyway. They keep that place unnaturally clean and never have clutter,” he said without looking up from the book he was cleaning jam off. At least Kit hoped that was jam. After a moment, he frowned. “What kind of pink things could you lose?”
Kit shrugged. “Anything I suppose. A hairbrush, a bottle of lotion, a book. A lot of things can be pink.”
“Mm, I suppose you’re right,” he said and went back to the jam wiping.
Kit observed him for while. Trying to think of reasons he might have for stealing Pinky and then lying about it. He did have a prankster trait, but it usually only came out when he was talking to her. It also never lasted long since he couldn’t keep a straight face. He certainly wasn’t the type to lie if he’d been caught in the act of pulling a prank. No, it was unlikely that Rajesh was the strap-on thief. Although, Kit had never really suspected him. It was more likely to be one of the guys running Pub 42.