by Adele Abbott
“I’m not really sure. A long time.”
“The old bag lady really hates me, doesn’t she?” Winky said, as soon as I went through to my office.
“What makes you say that?”
“I heard what she said just now. How can you have a tapestry based on this place without yours truly on it?”
“Why do you care?”
“It’s the principle that matters.”
“Never mind about that. Why are you wearing a sailor’s uniform?”
“Do you like it? It’s the latest fashion: Marine Chic.”
“I can’t say I’ve noticed anyone wearing marine chic.”
“Let’s get real here. It’s not like you move in haute couture circles, do you?” He looked me up and down. “When was the last time you updated your wardrobe?”
“I don’t follow fashion. I prefer to go for the classic, timeless look.”
“Of course you do.” He laughed. “You really should allow me to give you a few fashion tips.”
“When I ask for fashion advice from a cat, I’ll know it’s time to call the men with white coats.”
Just then, my office door opened.
“Looks like they’re already here.” He laughed.
It was actually Mrs V.
“Why do you dress that cat up like that?” She stared at him in disbelief.
“I—err—”
“What’s he meant to be this time? A pilot?”
“It’s marine chic.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’d have thought you needed to watch your pennies with the wedding coming up. Does Jack know you buy clothes for the cat?”
“Did you want something, Mrs V?”
“Madeline Lane is here. Do you have time to see her?”
“Mad? Of course. Send her through, please.”
“I should warn you, Jill. I don’t think London suits her.”
“How do you mean?”
“I hate to say it, but she seems to have let herself go a little. You’ll see for yourself.”
“Hiya, Jill.” Mad gave me a hug. “I’ve missed you.”
“Likewise.” I grinned. “Mrs V thinks you’ve let yourself go.”
“Oh dear. Did I shock her?”
“She’s used to seeing you dressed as a librarian, so she wasn’t expecting this punk rocker look.”
“What do you think of it?”
“I like it. This is more like the Mad I used to know. I’m guessing you’re no longer working as a librarian.”
“No, thank goodness. I managed to wangle a cover-job in a boutique on Carnaby Street. It’s only a small place, but we sell some great gear. You should definitely check it out when you come down to London next.”
“I don’t really think I’m your target demographic. How did you manage to get that gig? It doesn’t sound like the kind of job they usually expect you to take as cover for the ghost-hunting.”
“Now I’ve proven myself as a ghost hunter, I get a bit more say in the cover job I take. It’s like I told my bosses, I stood out like a sore thumb in the library just because I was so far out of my comfort zone. In this job, I fit right in.”
“I can believe that. Anyway, I’m glad you managed to get up here in time for the hen night.”
“I wasn’t going to miss that for the world. We’ll have a ball.”
“Your mum’s looking forward to it.”
“Mum? You haven’t invited her, have you?”
“I assumed you knew.”
“I haven’t seen her yet. I came straight here from the station. I knew she was going to the wedding, but what possessed you to invite her on the hen do?”
“She pretty much invited herself.”
“Oh well, I’ll just have to steer clear of her. I don’t want her showing me up.”
“Her nail business seems to be doing really well.”
“So I hear, which reminds me, I promised to drop in on her, so I’d better get going.”
“See you on Saturday, Mad.”
***
My feet had barely touched the ground all day, whizzing back and forth between Washbridge, Candlefield and Ghost Town.
It was supposed to be my turn to make dinner, but once Jack heard about my hectic day, I was sure he’d volunteer to step into the breach.
All I wanted to do was to get in the house, kick off my shoes and relax in front of the TV.
“Hi, Jill,” the giant burger shouted when I got out of the car.
“Hi, Tony.”
“I see you’ve got a new next-door neighbour.” This came from the giant hotdog who was standing next to the burger.
“Hi, Clare. Yes, his name is Ivers. We’ve known each other for some time, actually.”
“That’s lucky. It’s always a bit of a worry, wondering who your new neighbours might turn out to be. No one wants to live next door to some weirdos.”
So said the giant burger.
“Mr Ivers is really nice,” I said. “You should go around there and introduce yourselves. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d be up for cosplay. He’s game for most things.”
What? Of course I was going to throw them under the bus if it got Ivers off my back.
Snigger.
“That’s a great idea,” Tony said. “We’re always on the lookout for new blood. It’s a pity you and Jack aren’t able to come with us more often.”
“We’d love to. You know that. It’s just that we’re both so busy, what with the wedding and everything.”
“We were gutted we couldn’t make it to your wedding,” Clare said. “But we’d already committed to CheeseCon that weekend. It’s the same every year: FastFoodCon one weekend and CheeseCon the next. We’ve suggested they split them up because it can get tiresome, dressing up as food for two consecutive weeks, but they don’t seem to take any notice of us.”
“I can see how that must be tedious. Anyway, I’d better get going because I have dinner to make. Don’t forget to introduce yourselves to Mr Ivers.”
“Jill, we’re in here,” Jack called from the lounge.
We? Who was the we?
The sight that greeted me was so shocking that my legs almost gave way. Only by holding onto the door frame did I manage to stay upright.
Jack seemed not to notice my distress. “This is Jimmy and Kimmy—our new neighbours from across the road.”
Seated on the sofa were two clowns.
I tried to speak but was paralysed by fear.
“Are you okay?” the taller of the two said.
“Err—yeah, sorry. I haven’t eaten for a while. I just went a little light-headed, that’s all. I’m okay now.”
“I thought for a moment it might be our fault,” the shorter clown said. “You’ll probably be surprised to hear that there are some people who are afraid of clowns.”
“Really?” I feigned shock.
The tall clown stood up and offered his hand.
I hesitated, but then realised how ridiculous I was being.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, but immediately pulled away when the electric shock hit me.
“Sorry.” He laughed. “Old habits die hard.” He squeezed his red nose and made it squeak.
“That’s okay,” I said through gritted teeth.
“We were just on our way to a gig when Jack called us over.” He checked his comedy watch. “We really must get going. Come on, Sneezy.”
His partner pulled herself to her feet—her giant clown’s feet.
Jack saw them to the door; I followed at a safe distance behind.
“I thought you said their names were Jimmy and Kimmy?” I said after they’d left.
“Those are their real names. Breezy and Sneezy are their stage names.”
“Why did you invite them in?”
“It’s the neighbourly thing to do.”
“I thought you said they were something in show business.”
“Clowns are show business, aren’t they?”
“No, they’re pure evil.” I sl
umped onto the sofa. “After that nasty shock, the least you could do is make dinner.”
“Okay, but that’s one you owe me.”
“Of course, my darling.”
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
“If it’s the clowns, don’t let them back in,” I shouted.
“It’s Peter. Come on in.”
“Are you okay, Jill?” Peter asked. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine. I’ve just gone too long without anything to eat. Jack was just about to make dinner.”
“Do you want to join us?” Jack asked.
“No, thanks. I just popped over on my way home to take a look at the sandpit. This really is a weird neighbourhood you live in. When I got out of the van, there were two clowns across the road. And there’s a giant burger and hotdog talking to your next-door neighbour. It makes our street look positively boring.”
“I’ll show you the garden.” I pulled myself up off the sofa. “While Jack makes a start on dinner.”
“Are you sure you want to get rid of this?” Peter studied the sandpit. “You haven’t had it long.”
“Positive. The kids obviously aren’t that bothered about it, and it will be nice to get our garden back.”
“What were you thinking of having in its place?”
“Just a small lawn, and flowerbeds. Nothing too elaborate.”
“Okay. It shouldn’t be much of a job. I should be able to fit it in within the next two to three weeks.”
“Great. How much will it cost us?”
“Kathy came up with a good suggestion. We haven’t got around to buying you guys a wedding present yet, so why don’t we call this it?”
“Sounds good to me if you’re okay with that.”
“Definitely.”
“Hello, Jill!” Mr Ivers called from over the fence.
“Oh, hello, Mr Ivers.”
“Now we’re neighbours, you must call me Monty.” He glanced at Peter. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Jill?”
“Sorry. This is Peter, my brother-in-law. Peter, this is Mr Ivers, our new next-door neighbour.”
“Pleased to meet you, Peter,” Mr Ivers said.
“Likewise.” Peter shook hands with him.
“I’ve just been talking to your other neighbours. This cosplay thing sounds fascinating. I’m going to join them for CheeseCon. I would have gone to FastFoodCon too, but apparently all the tickets have already been sold.”
“Peter’s here to look at the sandpit—we’re wanting to get rid of it. He has his own landscaping business.”
“Really?” He turned back to Peter. “I have my own business too. Do you like movies?”
Before I could warn him, Peter said, “I do enjoy a good film.”
“In that case, this is your lucky day.”
***
I was still chuckling to myself over dinner, long after Peter had left.
“You really dropped poor old Peter in it,” Jack said.
“It wasn’t my fault. He was the one who said he enjoyed movies. And anyway, he got fifty percent discount for being Ivers’ first ever customer.”
“Kathy will kill you.”
“She can’t, or she won’t get to be a bridesmaid.”
Jack was quiet for the rest of the meal.
“Are you okay?” I said.
“Yeah. I was just thinking about poor old Chris, locked up behind bars.”
“Have you heard back from his solicitor yet?”
“Not yet. He said he’d try and get back to me tonight or in the morning. You’ll need to be ready to go and see him at a moment’s notice.”
“No problem. Chris is my number one priority.”
“I still can’t believe that Sarah and Bill were having a fling.”
“Do you think Chris knew about it?”
“If he did, he hid it well because he acted the same way towards Bill as he always has.”
Chapter 11
For once, when I arrived at the office, Mrs V wasn’t knitting.
“Why won’t this stupid thing work?” She sighed.
“Is that your phone, Mrs V?”
“Yes. Armi bought it for me yesterday. I wanted a cerise one, but they only had white or black.”
“I didn’t have you down as a smart phone kind of a person.”
“Why? Because I’m getting on a bit? I still have all my faculties, you know.”
“I didn’t mean that. I know you have. I’ve just never seen you with a mobile phone before.”
“I’m not really a fan, but when I heard about the wap your grandmother had made, I had to get one.”
“What’s a—oh, hang on. Are you talking about an app?”
“Wap? App? Why do they have to use jargon? I heard that it would be available today, but I can’t see it on here.” She handed the phone to me.
“Have you actually installed it?”
“Installed what?”
“The wap—err—app?”
“How do I do that?”
“You have to go to the app store.”
She sighed again, even more exasperated this time. “Where’s that? I didn’t realise I’d have to go running around town.”
“The app store isn’t actually a store. Well, it is a store, but—”
“It’s all too complicated. Could you do it for me, Jill?”
“I’m not all that great with phones myself.”
“How disappointing. I was so looking forward to trying it.”
“Don’t worry. I know someone who’s a whizz with phones. Can I hang onto this for a while?”
“Do you think your friend will be able to do it for me today?”
“That depends if there’s any salmon.”
“Sorry?”
“Err—I said it depends on Sam Dunn. That’s my friend. It depends how busy he is.”
“Okay, well please do your best. I’ve been really looking forward to this.”
Winky was rolling around the floor, in hysterics.
“What’s so funny?”
“Sam Dunn? How do you come up with this stuff?”
“You shouldn’t be tabby-hanging.”
“It’s hard not to when you’re shouting at the old bag lady.”
“You know Mrs V is hard of hearing.”
“Pardon?”
“I said—oh, very funny.”
“I take it you want me to install a wap on her phone?”
“Yes, please.”
“Tinder?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s something to do with knitting.”
“What’s it called?”
“I don’t remember. I suggested Grandma call it Copy Cat, but she didn’t like that name.”
“Whoa, back up. Why would you make such a slur?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You appear to be insinuating that cats have no originality. That they steal the ideas of others and claim them as their own.”
“Copycat? That’s just a saying. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Then why not say copy dog?”
“That doesn’t alliterate.”
“Okay. Copy koala, then.”
“That begins with a ‘K’.”
“How about copy cobra? Those pesky snakes are notorious for their counterfeit activities.”
“Okay, if it makes you happy, I’ll say copy cobra from now on.”
“Good. So, what’s this app called?”
“I remember now. It’s called: See It. Make It. A stupid name if you ask me.”
“I think it’s a great name. I’m not sure you should be questioning your grandmother’s nous for marketing, given her track record compared to yours.”
Touché. “Will you install the app or not?”
“Depends how much Sam Dunn you had in mind.”
“You can have salmon today and tomorrow.”
“And all next week.”
“Okay, okay. Just install the stupid app.”
He did hi
s thing, and less than a couple of minutes later, handed the phone back to me. “All done. There’s a shortcut on the home screen.”
“Thank you.”
“Hey, while I remember. Do I get to travel to the wedding ceremony in the limousines with you guys?”
“Err—sorry, but there’s no room. You’re going to have to make your own way there.”
“Fair enough. Where’s the wedding taking place?”
There was no way I could allow Winky to walk down the aisle as my pagecat. If I did, I’d be a laughing stock. This might be my only chance to do something about it without hurting his feelings. If I gave him the name of the wrong hotel, by the time he realised, it would be too late, and the ceremony would be over. Was I a genius or what?
I wasn’t asking for your opinion. Don’t you recognise a rhetorical question when you hear one? Right there—that was another one.
“It’s at the Washbridge Hotel at two o’clock.”
“Got it. I’ll be there.”
Snigger.
Back in the outer office, I handed Mrs V her phone.
“All done. The app is installed. Look, it’s there on the home screen.”
“I thought you said you’d have to get your friend, Sam Dunn, to install it?”
“I—err managed to do it myself.”
“Thank you. Do you think you could show me how it works?”
Just then, my phone rang; Jack had managed to arrange for me to visit Chris Jardine in prison.
***
Chris was being held on remand at Longdale Prison, which was a thirty-mile drive from Washbridge. Although I didn’t relish the thought of visiting the prison, it did at least give me an excuse to leave Mrs V to try to sort out her new app by herself.
“Is it true about Sarah and Bill?” Were the first words out of Chris Jardine’s mouth.
“Mr Jardine, this is Jill Gooder,” the solicitor said. “I believe you’re expecting her.”
“Yes, sorry.” Chris slumped onto the metal chair. “You’re Jack’s wife, aren’t you?”
“No, yes, well almost. We’re getting married next week.”
“Was Sarah really having an affair with Bill?”