by Adele Abbott
“What’s going on, Sarah?”
“It’s today’s game of the day: Beetle drive.”
“I’ve played beetle drive before. It shouldn’t make that much noise.”
“See for yourself.” She pointed to one of the nearby booths.
On the table, was what appeared to be a racing track, but instead of racing cars, they seemed to be racing motorised beetles.
I turned back to Sarah who was already pouring my coffee. “That isn’t beetle drive. It should be played with a dice, pen and paper.”
“I thought it was a bit weird, but the manager seemed to think he knew what he was doing.”
Thankfully, I managed to find a table some distance from the racing beetles. After the broom flying ordeal, I needed a little quiet downtime.
“Hi, Jill.”
Oh bum! Deli was the last person I wanted to see; she was even louder than the motorised beetles.
“Hi, Deli.”
“You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” she said.
“I—err—”
“Thanks.” She was staring at my face. “What type of foundation do you use, Jill?”
“Sorry?”
“Choosing the right foundation is really important. It’s kind of the—err—thingy of your beauty regime. What’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Foundation?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.”
“What you need, Jill, is a personal beauty audit.”
“A what?”
“I took what you said to heart.”
“You did? Remind me again what that was.”
“That I shouldn’t worry about what your grandmother was doing, and that instead I should focus on my own business. Just like your sister did.”
“Right, yeah, that’s definitely the way to go.”
“That’s why I’ve introduced the beauty audit service.” She took a handful of vouchers from her bag. “These entitle you to a free audit. There’s one for you, and some for you to give to family and friends.”
“Right, thanks.”
“Make sure you book your place soon because the offer is only good until the end of the month.”
“I will.”
“I’d better get going, Jill. People to go, places to meet.”
“Okay. Great.”
***
I didn’t hang around Coffee Games for very long because the sound of the motorised beetles was just too annoying. Before heading back to the office, I had a few things I needed to pick up in town. As I headed towards the pharmacy, I spotted a familiar face.
A familiar feline face.
Winky’s Aunt Wynn went dashing down the street, and around the corner out of sight. Where was she going? What was she up to?
Curiosity got the better of me, so I set off in pursuit.
At first, I thought I must have lost her, but then I spotted her slipping into a jeweller. By the time I reached the shop, and peered in through the window, Wynn was sitting at one side of the counter. The shop was quite busy, and no one seemed to have noticed the cat.
At the counter were a young couple who, judging by their ages and the way they were gazing into each other’s eyes, were shopping for an engagement ring. The young woman pointed to one of the trays in the locked cabinet, and watched eagerly as the sales assistant took it out for them to get a closer look.
After that, everything seemed to happen very quickly.
The assistant had no sooner put the tray down than Aunt Wynn jumped onto the counter, and knocked it off, spilling the rings all over the floor. No one reacted for a few seconds, but then the sales assistant rushed around the counter, to shoo the cat out of the door, but not before I’d spotted Wynn do something very interesting.
Half an hour later, shopping done, I headed back to the office.
“Are you still okay to come and look at the house this afternoon, Jill?” A white-spotted faced Mrs V said.
“Yeah. Give me about an hour and then we’ll go.”
In my office, Aunt Wynn and Winky were both sitting on my desk.
“Do you mind, young lady.” She shot me a look. “I’d like to have a few words with my nephew in private before I leave.”
“Of course, but I do have an urgent message for Winky.”
“Oh?” he said.
“Yes. While I was out, Gemma the Gems asked me to tell you that Gavin the Grub needs to speak to you immediately. It’s a matter of life and death, apparently.”
“What’s it about?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“Is this on the up and up?”
“I’m just the messenger. If you don’t believe me, that’s not my problem.”
He turned to Wynn. “Do you mind if I nip out for a few minutes? This could be important.”
“Of course not. Off you go.”
As soon as he’d disappeared out of the window, she turned on me. “Are you still here? I thought I asked you to leave.”
“That’s right, you did, but here’s the thing, I’m not going anywhere, and certainly not because some jewel thief asks me to.”
“What did you just call me? How dare you?”
“You come here with your prim and proper, butter-wouldn’t-melt act, but you’re nothing but a common thief.”
“This is outrageous! Just wait until my nephew comes back. After I’ve told him what you said, he’ll—”
“He’ll do what?” I reached out and lifted her fur flap, to reveal a haul of rings. “Hmm, what do we have here?”
That seemed to knock the stuffing out of her. “Please don’t tell Winky. He looks up to me.”
“Why would you steal when you’re already minted?”
“Why would you think I’m minted? I can barely keep the wolf from the door.”
“Winky thinks you’re rich. That’s why he’s—”
“Why he’s what?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Despite the way she’d treated me, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that her favourite nephew was only sucking up to her for her money.
“Are you going to tell him about the rings?”
“Not if you promise to take them back.”
“I will. As soon as I’ve said goodbye to Winky.”
“Okay. I won’t say anything.”
“Thanks, Jill. I told Winky he was lucky to have you staying here with him.”
“Hmm.”
Chapter 10
I made myself scarce, long enough for Winky and his auntie to say their goodbyes. By the time I returned to the office, Winky was all alone, and if the look on his face was anything to go by, he was about to blow a fuse.
“What was that all about?” he demanded.
“What was what all about?”
“That rubbish with Gemma and Gavin. They hadn’t spoken to you. They don’t even know who you are.”
“Really? Sorry, my bad.”
“Is that all you have to say for yourself? What did you say to Aunt Wynn while I was gone?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. When I got back, it was like she was a different cat.”
“I’m sure that’s just your imagination.”
“I don’t think so. She was even singing your praises to me.”
“That’s nice.”
“You’re up to something, and when I find out what, there’ll be trouble.”
“Do you mind if I give you one small piece of advice, Winky?”
“Would it make any difference if I said no?”
“Don’t rely too much on the inheritance from your auntie. I wouldn’t want you to be too disappointed.”
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt.” Harold was standing on the window ledge, peering into the office. “Do you have a minute, Jill?”
“You aren’t interrupting anything, Harold,” I reassured him. “Winky and I had just finished here, hadn’t we?”
Winky gave me a look, said, “I know you�
�re up to something,” and then skulked off under the sofa.
“What can I do for you, Harold?”
He lifted his wing to reveal a tiny white box. “It’s Ida’s birthday tomorrow, and I’ve bought her a cake.”
“How romantic.”
“I’d like it to be a surprise, so I wondered if you could hide it somewhere. Just until tomorrow.”
“Sure, no problem.” I took the box from him.
“Take a look at it, Jill. Tell me what you think.”
I lifted the lid to reveal the cutest little cake with a picture of two pigeons kissing. “This is gorgeous, Harold. Do you mind if I take a photo to show my husband? Maybe it will motivate him to buy one for my birthday.”
“Go ahead.”
I snapped a photo, put the lid back on, and then put the box in the bottom drawer of my desk for safe keeping.
“What kind of cake is it? Is it some kind of special pigeon food?”
“No, it’s just an ordinary cake.”
“Okay, well it’s safe with me.”
“Thanks, Jill. I’ll pop back to collect it tomorrow.”
***
On our way to the cottage, I drove and Mrs V navigated.
Or at least, that had been the plan. Mrs V wasn’t exactly Google Maps. In fact, she seemed to have little grasp of the geography of Washbridge and the surrounding area, despite the fact that she’d lived there all of her life.
It didn’t come as much of a surprise to learn it was called Cuckoo Cottage, and even though I’d seen a photo of it, nothing could have prepared me for the real thing.
Weirdly, though, I wasn’t as repulsed as I’d expected to be. It was true that the front of the house did resemble a giant cuckoo clock, but if you could get past that (and yes, I do realise that wouldn’t be easy), then the rest of the package was really superb.
The cottage was located on the very edge of a wood. Its wild country garden was delightful—as pretty as any I’d ever seen.
“What do you think of it, Jill?” Mrs V said. “Have you ever seen anything quite like this?”
“I can safely say that I haven’t.” I hesitated. “It is very pretty, though. How difficult would it be to remove the cuckoo clock features? It’s only a couple of doors and a long chain.”
“But that’s the whole point. Armi wouldn’t want to remove them.”
“The location is fantastic. And this garden is beautiful.”
“It is, isn’t it? It’s even better around the back. Do you want to take a look inside the house?”
“What about the owners? Will they mind?”
“They’ve already moved out—emigrated, actually. The sale is being handled by the man’s sister. She said we could look around anytime.”
“We’re here now. You may as well give me the whole tour.”
“The keys are in my handbag in your car. Is it locked?”
“No. No one is going to steal that thing.”
I waited by the back door while Mrs V went to retrieve her bag.
“Oi!” The voice came from somewhere behind me, but I couldn’t see anyone. “Over here!”
Someone, very small, was waving to me from behind one of the trees on the edge of the wood.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
“Are you a witch?” The tiny creature, dressed from head to toe in green, stepped out from behind the tree.
“Err, yes, I am. Who are you?”
“William. William Twigmore.”
“I’m Jill. Do you mind if I ask what kind of creature you are, William?”
“I’m a wood nymph. I live here with my two brothers. They’re back there, but they’re too shy to say hello.”
I glanced at the car where Mrs V was reaching into the back seat. “I can’t talk just now, I’m afraid. My friend will be back in a minute.”
“Are you going to buy this house?”
“Me? No. My friend might, though.”
“Does she like pink marshmallows?”
“Marshmallows? I don’t know.”
“I hope so. The previous occupant never ate them. It’s been years since we’ve had any.”
“Is that a wood nymph thing? Liking marshmallows, I mean?”
“Only the pink ones. The white ones are horrible.” He pulled a sour face to illustrate his point.
“I’ve got it!” Mrs V held up the key.
“Sorry, William. I have to go.”
“What were you doing over by that tree, Jill?” Mrs V said, as she unlocked the door.
“Nothing. I thought I saw a squirrel. Incidentally, Mrs V, do you like marshmallows?”
“Sorry?”
“I was just wondering if you were partial to marshmallows. Particularly pink ones?”
Thirty minutes later, after we’d finished the tour of the cottage, I came away wishing that Jack and I could somehow afford to buy it. The interior was as cute as a button, and the previous owners were including all the furniture with the sale.
“You like it, then, Jill?” Mrs V clearly hadn’t expected my reaction.
“I love it. I’d snatch their hands off.”
“What about the cuckoo clock thing?”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t even care about that. The rest of the house more than makes up for it. And besides, if you use your womanly wiles, I’m sure you’ll be able to persuade Armi to remove that, or at least to tone it down.”
“It is beautiful. I’ll have to give it some serious thought. Thanks, Jill, I do appreciate you taking the time to come with me today.”
***
Little Jack wasn’t behind the counter in The Corner Shop. Instead, it was Lucy Locket who served me.
“Where’s Jack today?” I asked.
“It’s the National Corner Shop Symposium in Bognor Regis. Jack’s gone down there for a couple of days.”
“I guess that means you’re in charge, then?”
“Yes, but I’ll try not to let the power go to my head.” She smiled. “Have you had your free drink?”
I was feeling quite thirsty, so I walked over to the free vending machine, and chose tropical fruits tea. By now, I wasn’t in the least surprised to find that it tasted just like regular tea.
“Would you like any scratch cards, Jill?”
“No, thanks. I never win on those things.”
“These aren’t the National Lottery scratch cards. These are Corner Shop’s own. It’s Jack’s latest brainwave.”
“I hope he’s thought this one through. It’s been one disaster after another recently, what with the shopping app and loyalty card.”
“You can’t really go wrong with these. They’re only ten-pence each.”
“That’s remarkably cheap. How much can you win?”
“There are no cash prizes. You can win things we sell in the shop. You have to scratch off five windows, and if three of the pictures match, you win whatever the picture is.”
“For ten-pence a shot, it’s worth a go. Give me six, would you?”
I resisted the urge to scratch the cards there and then, so that Jack and I could do it tonight. With three cards each, we could have our own mini competition to see who won the most prizes.
And yes, I do realise how sad that sounds, but thanks for pointing it out anyway.
***
As part of my investigation into the missing penguins, I was headed to a mid-week match. Much to my surprise, Jack had decided to accompany me.
“I didn’t think you liked football?”
“What made you think that? I was known as Jack the Dribble when I was young.”
“You always have been a messy drinker.”
“Very funny. If things had been different, I could have been a professional footballer.”
“By that, I assume you mean if you’d actually had an ounce of talent.”
“Cheek. What time is the kick-off?”
“Six-thirty.”
“That’s rather early, isn’t it?”
“It is a juniors’ team remem
ber. They probably all have to be tucked up in bed by nine.”
“We’d better be making tracks, then.”
“Before we go, I got these from the corner shop.”
“Scratch cards?”
“It’s Little Jack’s latest initiative. I got three for you and three for me. I thought we could see who wins the most prizes. Whoever loses has to buy the tickets for the game tonight.”
“Okay, you’re on. How do they work?”
“You have to scratch off five of the twelve windows. If you get three matching pictures, then you get to claim whatever that picture is.”
“Okay, let’s do it. Prepare to lose.”
“Dream on, buddy.”
I took a few seconds to decide which windows to scratch off on the first card.
What’s wrong with that? With these things, it’s all about the strategy.
“Yes!” Jack punched the air. “I’ve won a steak and kidney pie.”
I scratched my card. “I’ve won a prize too.”
“What did you win?”
“The same. A steak and kidney pie. I’ll try another one.”
Five minutes later, Jack and I had won a total of six steak and kidney pies.
“I don’t think that’s supposed to happen.” Jack had a knack of stating the blindingly obvious.
“What’s the betting that those windows we didn’t scratch off have a picture of a steak and kidney pie too? Let’s see.”
“If you do that, your winning card will be void.”
“So what? I don’t even like steak and kidney pie.” I began to scratch off the rest of the windows. “See, what did I tell you? Every window, on every card has a picture of a steak and kidney pie under it.”
“I don’t reckon that’s how it’s meant to work.”
“You think?”
***
“Are you sure you have the right day?” Jack glanced around the stadium. “There aren’t many people here.”
“Positive. I double-checked the website this afternoon.
The man behind the turnstile was fast asleep.
“Excuse me.” I tapped the counter. “Two tickets, please.”
