by Luna Snow
Soon the dogs were yapping around her feet and Maisie laughed as one of the little dogs found the waste bin, and tipping it over, started eating the discarded pudding.
Maisie leaned over to Joan.
“It’s obviously good enough for her dog.”
During this time they had forgotten all about Ada, and looking around they were shocked to find that she was no longer slouched across the back row of seats.
“Where on earth can she have gone? She was totally out of it 10 minutes ago?”
Getting to their feet, Joan and Maisie searched the tent.
“She must have gone home”, Joan finally concluded.
The audience were now starting to queue for a signed copy of Rita’s new book, a bargain she said at £19.99.
Maisie scanned the line of eager customers, in the vain hope of seeing Ada.
“There, she’s back there, just behind the kitchen area.”
Joan looked up just in time to see Ada disappearing out of the back of the tent.
“C’mon, we’ll follow her.”
As they reached the back of the tent, they became aware of a peculiar noise, almost as if someone was choking. Maisie looked across the floor to see one of the small dogs writhing around on its back.
"The poor little thing."
All attention turned to the rotund little pooch- gasping and wheezing for breath.
"Bitsy!"
On seeing her pampered pooch in such distress. Rita stood up in alarm, her chubby fist raised to her mouth.
Rushing to the side of her stricken pet she looked on in horror as the little dog gave a final shudder and suddenly was still.
The woman began to wail mercilessly over the furry body as the spectators were ushered out of the tent.
"Alberto. Where's Alberto Another glass of champagne and quick."
Chapter 4
The next day the papers were full of the news. The headlines read
‘TV Star Pet gets Just Desserts’
Maisie and Joan sat reading the papers over their tea and scone.
Ada had quite recovered from the day (and the champagne) but still looked a little pale and tried to avoid conversation with her two friends. She had over slept and was trying to catch up on her jobs before the hoards arrived.
"Have you seen the headlines Ada? Tiverton Meadows has finally made the news."
Ada looked over without speaking.
"One of Rita's dogs died. Poor old thing. Heart attack the papers say."
Joan crossed her arms. She hated to see nay cruelty to animals, even if well intended.
“I’m not surprised. Those poor dogs were over fed and under exercised. No wonder it keeled over after eating all of that sugar and cream.”
"It's a pity it was the dog and not the owner. I can't say that I'm sorry."
Ada sniffled as she wiped down be tables.
Joan looked shocked
"That's not like you Ada. I know Rita was horrible to you. But I thought you were an animal lover?"
"And what have you got to be sorry about, it's not as if it were any of your fault."
Ada turned pale, burst into tears and stepped quickly into the kitchen.
"Well I'm not sorry. Not sorry at all."
"What's got into the woman? Anyone would think she had killed the dog herself?"
The two women looked at each other in alarm.
"You don't think..?"
"She wouldn’t have?"
"Yet she was angry with Rita."
"Angry. She was seething. And drunk. And creeping about next to the dog, just before it died."
Joan's eyes widened.
"Ada wouldn't harm a fly!"
"Wouldn't she? Well I did see death in her tea cup!"
The two women sat for some moments in silence, weighing up the evidence.
"But she wouldn't have, not Ada."
"And the dog was old and overweight."
"A bit like Rita Robinson."
Both women laughed, the tension broken. They were just being stupid.
"Now Maisie let me read your tea leaves before we go. It looks like I'm on a bit of a role at the moment."
Joan waited for Maisie to drink her tea and swirl the remainder into her saucer.
"Now let me see."
Her face turned as pale as Ada's.
"I don't believe it. I see death again."
Chapter 5
Maisie Adams had no family of her own, and had spent most of her life dedicated to charitable works. Her latest cause was the local cat and dog shelter, and after the tragic event at the garden party, Maisie was hoping that Rita would support such a great local cause. She was obviously a dog lover, and over the years Maisie had come to find that people could be at their most generous during periods of grief. Not that she wanted to take advantage of the situation, but at the end of the day, Rita had a lot of money and the shelter was in desperate need.
The afternoon was warm and sunny as Maisie rang the bell at the old Manor House. There was no answer but Maisie was not one to give in easily - she would try the kitchen door round the back, and besides, it would give her an opportunity to explore her old childhood haunt.
Much to her delight the layout of the old kitchen garden had been preserved. In fact it looked in much better shape than when she had been a girl. In those days, old Lord Willets had let the place grow wild, but it had been a magical place, full of dew spangled spiders webs and bird nests.
Many of the plants looked old; the old herb beds now weeded looked to be thriving. The old rosemary bush was resplendent with purple flowers and the scent of the lavender hung drowsily in the air.
At one time she would have known all of the plants by name, but now, like so many things they were forgotten in the Past.
It was a long time since she had thought about the old days and standing in the old kitchen garden brought all of the memories flooding back. Old Lord Willets had been a character. There was something about him, some gossip in the back of her mind that she couldn't quite recall. He had been a keen botanist; she remembered that; he had even written books on the subject.
The door leading into the kitchen was slightly ajar and as Maisie was just about to knock, she stopped at the sound of raised voices, her fist raised mid-air.
"Don't go. Please don't go."
Rita was pleading with someone inside. At the sound of footsteps Maisie hid around the corner just in time before the door opened and someone marched off down the path and away.
It was Alberto.
As Maisie stepped forward she almost collided with a bleary faced Rita, looking decidedly older and worse for wear. From the smell of her breath she had been drinking.
"And what may I do for you? An autograph I suppose?" Rita held her head high and spoke in a terse if not slightly slurred manner.
"Well no actually. I came to see you about the local dog and cat shelter."
Looking Maisie carefully up and down, Rita opened the door.
"I think you had better come in."
Maisie had definitely touched on a soft spot, and as soon as they entered the kitchen, the little dog rushed towards them, yapping at Maisie's feet.
"This must be Itsy?"
Rita tried to smile; yes I'm afraid Itsy is my soul comfort these days. Dogs are so much more reliable than men don't you think? Now the cat and dog shelter you said? I'll just get my cheque book."
As Rita handed across the cheque, Maisie could barely believe her eyes £5000; the shelter would be pleased. Normally she was lucky if she received a few old jumpers or an old quilt to act as bedding for the animals. The shelter would think all their Christmases had come at once.
"It's in the memory of poor Bitsy. Now, is there anything else?"
Maisie was busy looking around the old kitchen, remembering the old days when she would sit at the pine scrubbed table eating bread and jam sandwiches.
"Sorry, I was miles away. I was just trying to remember what it was like when old Lord Willets lived
here. My mother used to clean for him."
Rita stifled a yawn.
"Yes, some of the old guys stuff was still here after all of these years. The place was in a pretty poor state before I made the changes. You can have his things if you like. There are a few books written by him. I don't want the dusty old things."
"That would be most generous of you, thank you."
Rita shrugged dismissively.
"They're not valuable or anything. I had my man check them out. I was only going to throw them away I'll just fetch them."
Maisie waited, quite excited that her Past was catching up with her. What was one person’s rubbish was another's treasure.
That night Maisie unpacked the box of books. They were quite old and dusty and one or two had a few missing pages, but it felt good to have a reminder of the old days. Two of the books had been written by Lord Willets covering the local flora and fauna of the area. One even contained illustrations and old photographs taken from the Manor House gardens and surrounding countryside.
Things had barely changed.
The half remembered thought about the old Lord almost came back to her, but the Past was so foggy that it slipped through the cobwebs of her mind and was buried once again before she had time to remember.
Chapter 6
The yearly Great British Cake Off competition was about to kick off on television and the first live broadcast was to take place that night.
Maisie had arranged to watch the programme at Joan's house, she had a much bigger TV and Ada had reluctantly agreed to join them.
Since the garden party Ada had not been herself, yet the publicity hadn't done her business any harm, in fact just the opposite. She still smarted from the experience and couldn't speak about it. Yet somehow she was curious to see Rita Robinson again.
With her pristine make up and freshly quoiffured hair, Rita looked quite a different person since Maisie last saw her.
"It's amazing what a bit of slap can do. It makes her look 10 years younger."
Forever cynical Joan rolled her eyes. "Shame she's a 100 then, and what on earth is she wearing?"
The three women watched as Rita preened and pouted on the large screen before them, wearing a pink lounge suit, with matching nails and lipstick
"She looks like Barbie’s grandma."
“Great Grandma!”
Joan rolled her eyes.
"Welcome back viewers to our new season of 'The Great British Cake Off ,and to celebrate the launch of my new 'Rita's Ready Made Range of Desserts' line- each week I will be demonstrating how to make my famous signature puddings, and this week I'm going to start with my favourite, vanilla panna cotta.
"Oh no, not again. Too many bad memories."
Ada reached across to the coffee table to pick up the remote to switch channels.
"Don't switch it off. I want to see if Rita makes a mess of it like last time."
Maisie was glued to the screen.
Henry her trusty assistant was also introduced and the studio audience applauded.
No doubt the bobbed haired woman was holding up her cue cards again.
The three watched Rita's every move as they drank copies mugs of tea.
The heating of the milk, cream and vanilla pods, the adding of the gelatine leaves, this time with the pan well away from the heat!
The whole process went by smoothly, much to the annoyance of the three viewers who had been looking forward to a repeat disaster.
The Panna Cotta was finally brought out of the fridge, with a close up of the pudding filling the screen.
"And of course if you don't want to try this at home- you can simply buy this delicious Panna Cotta as part of the 'Rita's Ready Made Range' stocked in all quality supermarkets."
"It's hardly a difficult pudding to make." Ada folded her arms.
"Now at this stage I usually have my beloved Alberto to sample my pudding, but the dear boy has gone to look after his ill mother back in Naples."
"That's a joke. He's not in Naples and I doubt that his mother is ill. He walked out on her- left her. I overheard them arguing the other day."
For once Ada smiled.
“You could say she got her just desserts!”
Rita picked up a dessert spoon and dug it seductively into the creamy Panna Cotta.
"Remember ladies. Real men like a real woman - and I don't mean the skinny variety. Indulge in a little pudding heaven."
Bringing the spoon to her mouth she suggestively parted her pink lips and slowly licked at the creamy dessert, her pupils dilating with pleasure.
"Now that is what I call indulgent."
The camera pulled in for a close up of Rita's face- her eyes narrowed in pleasure, just like a cats.
Suddenly her eyes widened and a tiny bead of perspiration began to trickle down her forehead, followed quickly by another and then another. The green eyes started to bulge and her cheeks to turn red. It looked as though she were starting to choke.
The picture went black for a split second before returning to the commercial break.
"How on earth can you choke on Panna Cotta- it's made out of cream?”
The woman laughed.
At the end of the commercial break there was an announcement, that due to technical difficulties they could not return to The Great British Cake Off - but instead they would show an old film.
The women groaned. They had seen the film countless times before. It would be another early night.
Chapter 7
The next day the village of Tivington Meadows was in shock. The newspapers and morning TV bulletins all reported the death of the famous TV chef Rita Robinson. The poor woman had suffered a heart attack whilst filming the first live episode of The Great British Cake Off and died almost instantaneously.
The Copper Kettle cafe buzzed with the drama of the event.
“I don’t believe it.” Maisie stared at the photograph of Rita Robinson on the front page of the local paper. It had been taken on the day of the garden party, before she had become too drunk.
“I was only talking to the poor woman a few days ago and now she’s dead. I can hardly believe it.”
Next to her picture was a photograph of a tearful looking Alberto, stood at the gates of the manor house.
“It didn’t take him long to fly back from Naples. I never believed that he had gone far.” Maisie folded her arms with some conviction.
“Maybe it was the loss of her little dog. The grief of losing her dog could have brought on the heart attack. They are not my kind of dog, but some people treat them like children.”
“And with her toy-boy Alberto walking out too, the strain must have been too great for her. She was quite overweight. She had all of that money but wasn’t very happy, she was probably a very lonely woman.”
Ada carried the morning tea across to them, and as soon as she set the tray down on the table immediately burst into tears and sat sobbing on the chair next to Maisie, unable to control herself.
“What on earth is the matter Ada? I thought you couldn’t stand the woman?”
It took a few minutes for Ada to compose herself.
“It’s all my fault. I killed the little dog and in turn that has killed Rita. I killed Rita Robinson.”
“What nonsense. What on earth are you babbling on about Ada?” Joan was the prickliest of the three and couldn’t abide a scene.
“It was me. I killed the dog at the garden party.”
Joan furrowed her brow. “But how Ada, you wouldn’t hurt a fly?”
“I know but I was so angry that day, so angry at Rita and the way she had treated me, humiliated me, I had to get back at her somehow and her prized pooch was the easiest option.”
“But how?” Both women leaned forward, ready for the confession.
“Well, you see. I gave it my champagne to drink.”
The two women waited.
“And?”
“And nothing. That’s it. I gave the poor little dog a glass of champagne to dri
nk and it must have finished him off. It must have been too much for the little mite. I may as well go and hand myself in at the police station now. I shall never sleep at night. Never!”