by Andy Coffey
Chapter 21 – Has anyone seen the Queen?
Oriana Oftsheared was a very gifted flautist, even by sheep standards. She had been a member of the OSO for just over a year and had cemented her place due to her technical dexterity and superb musical interpretation. She had also struck up a firm friendship with Cliff Corriedale, often performing flute/cello duets when the occasion arose. Their relationship, though, was now turning into something more.
Cliff was a very handsome sheep, in a rugged-ram kind of way, and attracted the attention of the younger ewes at the OSO’s concerts, to the point where many of them would throw their udder-garments at him on stage. Oriana was considered to be his female equivalent and even had her own fan club. There had also been several offers to appear in some of the more racy magazines, such as ‘Playsheep’ and ‘Sheep Parade’, but she politely turned them all down. Music was her first love and she was very dedicated to her craft, and she was quite happy to spend her personal time out of the limelight. As Cliff was of a similar mind, their mutual appreciation of each other’s talents, complimentary personalities and the fact that they fancied each other to bits meant that the inevitable was only a matter of time.
‘Charles is beginning to look very wobbly,’ Oriana observed to Cliff, as she linked hooves with him.
‘I know. I may have to take him home soon, bless him. He’s started to flirt with the faeries, particularly the two that caught him when he lost his balance playing… again. I’m sure he does that on purpose, you know.’
‘Hello you two, are you enjoying yourselves?’ Roisin asked, finally managing drag herself away from Agnar.
‘Oh, we’re having a wonderful time,’ Oriana said, with a sideways glance at Cliff that made Roisin smile. ‘I was hoping to chat to the Queen before we left but I’ve not seen her for a while.’
‘Oh, damn,’ Roisin said. ‘I completely forgot that I was supposed to call her before Charles played. Although why she’s been gone so long, I’m not sure. I better go and see if everything’s okay.’
As Roisin was just about to walk up the grand staircase, Jarvis appeared, newspaper tucked under his arm, preparing to retire for the night. ‘Have you seen the Queen recently?’ Roisin asked.
‘No, ma’am, I’ve not. But I was told she was feeling weary and had retired for the evening. She sent a message that everyone was to continue in her absence.’
‘Who passed on the message?’
‘Why, it was those two Feng Shui gentlemen. They were on their way out to perform a “Moonlit Feng Shui” treatment on the Queen’s pink rug, from the royal bedroom. Actually I thought they’d be back by now. They’ve been gone for well over an hour.’
Roisin’s intuition was something she always relied on and it rarely failed her. She bolted up the stairs, leaving an open-mouthed Jarvis in her wake. The bedroom door was closed. ‘Ophy, are you awake?’ she shouted, knocking loudly on the door.
Silence was the reply, and Roisin could feel panic welling up inside her. ‘Ophy, Ophy, wake up!’ she said, increasing the volume of the knocking. ‘If you don’t come to the door in ten seconds I’ll have to enter uninvited. I’m worried about you.’
She was greeted with the same silence as before, or it may have been a different silence, it was difficult to tell. All silence tends to sound the same after a bit.
‘One… two… three… four…’ And then she burst in, impatience and concern cutting the count short.
The bedroom was empty and the pink rug was gone. She rushed around the room looking for Ophelia in the most improbable of places; under the bed, behind the curtains, in the wardrobe. But the Queen was nowhere to be seen.
Jarvis had made his way up the stairs and appeared at the bedroom door. ‘The Queen is gone, Jarvis,’ Roisin said.
‘Perhaps she’s simply gone outside for some fresh air?’
‘Maybe, but I’ve not got a good feeling about this. I’ll go and ask if anyone’s seen her.’ And with that she ran down the stairs, almost tripping on a couple of occasions. ‘Has anyone seen the Queen?’ she shouted, to the crowded main ballroom.
The response was a mixture of blank stares, a few ‘noes’ and several shakes of heads. She ran into the drawing room, which was acting as an overspill area by a few of the guests, and repeated the question, but received the same set of responses.
Jarvis had now come downstairs and was looking concerned. ‘Jarvis, when you saw the two men with the rug did you see or hear anything unusual?’ Roisin said.
‘Well, come to think of it, there was something rather odd. As the two gentlemen were taking the rug through the kitchen, it groaned.’
‘The rug “groaned”?’
‘Yes, ma’am. They said it was because of “negative forces” in the rug and that they had to get it outside as soon as possible before anything else got infested.’
Roisin ran back into the main ballroom and headed straight for Olaf. By now she was almost in tears. ‘Olaf, I think Ophy’s been kidnapped.’