by Andy Coffey
Chapter 9 – We’d like a room, please
‘I am Mr Breezy and my partner here is Mr Waft,’ the tall man holding the briefcase said. ‘We’d like a room, please,’
‘Yes,’ said the shorter man, ‘preferably one with a view of the river.’
‘It’s your lucky day, good sirs,’ said Maurice Fluffywool. ‘We’ve only two rooms left but they both have a lovely view of the Dee.’
‘We’ll only need one, thank you,’ Mr Breezy said.
‘Oh, I see,’ Maurice said, winking. ‘Well, we’re very enlightened around here, so that’s not a problem.’
‘Ah, I fear you may be incorrectly assessing our status,’ Mr Breezy said, his face reddening. ‘Ours is purely a business relationship. There is, I assure you, no impropriety of any nature. We share a room so we can keep our costs low and so that we may discuss and plan our business strategy.’
‘Indeed,’ Mr Waft added, ‘we sometimes sit long into the wee hours discussing the ins and outs of things.’
They both wore long, green coats and had matching black, bowler hats. Maurice thought they looked a bit shifty so he decided to probe. ‘What kind of business are you gentleman involved in, then?’
‘These are strange times, Mr Fluffywool,’ Mr Breezy said, dramatically. ‘We are here on matters of extreme sensitivity. Our clients do not always like to wash their dirty linen in public, so to speak.’
‘Ah, so you two are spies are you?’ Maurice replied.
‘Er, no, no, of course not,’ Mr Waft said, slightly agitated. ‘What makes you think we are spies?’
‘Well you do have the look of spies about you gentlemen, and I’ve met a few in my time. Also, isn’t that black briefcase a spy kit?’
Mr Breezy and Mr Waft looked at each other and laughed. Then they looked at Maurice and chortled. Then they tittered… and ended with some ‘tee, hee, hees.’
‘No, Mr Fluffywool, we are purely Vagrant Vacuum Cleaner Exorcists, trying to earn an honest crust,’ Mr Breezy said.
‘Oh, I had no idea vacuum cleaner possession was an issue these days,’ Maurice said. ‘I’ve certainly not heard of anything of that nature in these parts of late.’
‘Ah, you would be surprised, Mr Fluffywool,’ said Mr Breezy. ‘We have just crossed the border from England and the situation in some villages there was horrendous.’
‘Horrendous,’ echoed Mr Waft.
‘Indeed,’ said Mr Breezy. ‘Sadly, we got to one village too late and they had already begun burning vacuum cleaners at the stake, fearing this was the only method they could employ to stem the evil tide. It was a terrible sight.’
‘And a dusty one,’ Mr Waft added.
‘We hope that the special blessings we can bestow on your town will perhaps prevent you from witnessing the horrors we have seen. This is our goal, this is our purpose, this is our quest,’ Mr Breezy said, grandly.
‘Here, here!’ shouted Mr Waft.
‘Well, in which case, I can only wish you gentlemen good fortune,’ Maurice said. ‘And I’ll certainly sleep more soundly in my bed knowing that my vacuum cleaner is far less likely to indulge in projectile-vomiting and speaking in tongues when I try to get into those tricky corner areas. Right, the room will be £10 a night, including our rather delicious Welsh breakfast. How many nights will you be staying?’
‘I would envisage just two,’ Mr Breezy said. ‘Although this will obviously be dependent upon when we feel our mission, and your safety, is assured.’
‘Well, if you can just sign here, please, Mr Breezy,’ Maurice said, passing him the guest book. ‘And here’s your key to Room 13. Go up the stairs and it’s the last room on the right, at the end of the corridor.’
‘Thank you, Mr Fluffywool,’ Mr Breezy said, as he and Mr Waft walked towards the stairs. ‘Oh, one more thing,’ he said, turning back to Maurice. ‘We have a passing interest in ancient structures and we noticed a fascinating old cheese mine near a large group of standing stones as we travelled here. Do you perhaps know anything of this mine and who it belongs to?’
‘Oh, that’s been closed for many years. It used to be owned by a quaint old chap called Hairy Growler, but he transferred ownership to the McSvensson clan just days before his death.’
‘The McSvensson clan!’ Mr Waft said, somewhat alarmed.
‘Yes, have you heard of them?’
‘We have,’ Mr Breezy replied, as he and Mr Waft exchanged nervous glances. ‘They are the most feared warriors in the land.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Maurice. ‘But Angus McSvensson bequeathed it to his cousin as a birthday gift, on the understanding that he takes care of it from time to time. As you can imagine, the McSvenssons don’t tend to travel to these parts much.’
Mr Breezy and Mr Waft relaxed visibly. ‘And would you know the whereabouts of this cousin at all?’ Mr Breezy said.
‘His name is Agnar the Hammered and he plays drums in a quite excellent band by the name of Sacred Wind. They are performing in this establishment this very evening, so I’m sure I can introduce you.’
‘Thank you, Mr Fluffywool, that information is much appreciated,’ said Mr Breezy, as they went up the stairs.
‘I thought he was onto us for a minute there,’ Nob said, closing the door to room 13 behind him.
‘Yes, but I feel our supreme acting skills have once again ensured that our disguises remain intact,’ Hob replied, putting his briefcase down next to one of the two single beds.
‘Quite,’ Nob agreed.
Hob went over and stared out of the window at the pleasant view of the town and river below. ‘So, it belongs to a drummer,’ he said. ‘This could make our task easier than we thought.’
Virtually as soon as Mr Breezy and Mr Waft had disappeared upstairs, Aiden and Cracky walked thought the door. Aiden was still smiling. ‘You seem very happy, Mr Peersey,’ said Maurice. ‘And good day, Mr Crackfoot, I believe that the “Cuisine de la Terreur” went very well last night.’
‘Good day, Maurice. Yes, it did, thanks,’ said Cracky. ‘I just need to take it easy with the garlic and pineapple sauce next time.’
Maurice immediately began to fill up two glasses for them. ‘And I do feel much better now, Maurice,’ Aiden said, as he and Cracky leaned on the bar. ‘I was feeling a little odd before, but the visit to the carnival has cleared my head a bit.’
‘Cheshire Black,’ Maurice whispered to Cracky.
‘Aiden would very much like a room, if you have any spare,’ Cracky said. ‘Although we’re not sure how many nights this would be for.’
‘You’re in luck, Aiden,’ Maurice said, ‘I’ve only one left, but it’s very nice with a lovely view of the Dee. Mind you, it’s a good job the two spies who’ve just checked in only wanted one room.’
‘Spies?’ Cracky said.
‘Well, they said they were Vagrant Vacuum Cleaner Exorcists, but I’m pretty sure they’re spies. I can smell them a mile off. They want to chat to Agnar about that old mine of his. I suspect they’re probably harmless but I’ll keep an eye on them.’
‘I knew a lady whose vacuum cleaner became possessed once,’ Cracky said. ‘It used to drive her up the wall… and even onto the ceiling sometimes. I’ll check out these two “spies” tonight, as well.’
Maurice placed their drinks on the bar and Aiden produced his wallet, only to be waved away by Maurice’s hoof. ‘No, this one’s on the house, gentlemen. First drink is free for guests and as Mr Crackfoot kindly recommended my establishment as your abode of choice, he can have one too.’
‘Very kind of you, again,’ Aiden said.
‘Yes, cheers, Maurice,’ said Cracky.
‘So, did you enjoy the OSO today?’ Maurice asked, bringing out the guest book from under the bar.
‘Very much so,’ Aiden replied.
‘My brother, Henry, is their conductor and musical arranger, you know. He’ll be around tonight, as he tends to stay over when they’re playing in the area. If you’d like I’ll introduce you to h
im. He can be a bit snooty but he has a good heart really.’
‘I’d be delighted,’ said Aiden.
‘Right then, the room will be £8 a night, including breakfast. And just wait until you’ve tried my Blanche’s sausages! I swear you’ll never want to taste any other sausages again. Sign here please.’
Aiden signed his name and Maurice handed him the key to room number 11. ‘Up the stairs to the left and it’s the third room from the end of the corridor, on the right hand side.’
‘Thanks, Maurice. I’ll have a quick look now, but then I need to go back into town to try and buy some spare clothes. Can you recommend anywhere?’
‘Well, you could try “Ruffles Garments”,’ Maurice said, ‘although he tends to specialise in sheepwear. There’s also “Chez Viking”, but I’m not sure if their styles would suit you.’
‘Yes, I think Aiden requires something a little more contemporary,’ Cracky interjected. ‘I would have thought that “Mr Kneepatcher’s Trouser and Jacket Emporium” may well fit the bill.’
‘Now, why didn’t I think of that!’ exclaimed Maurice.
‘Right, then, if you walk with me back to the Diner now, I’ll give you directions. It’s literally around the corner,’ Cracky said. ‘But watch out he doesn’t try and sell you his entire stock. He’s a nice chap but he can be pretty pushy.’