“I just love buffet food,” said Beatrice.
“I do too,” said Belinda.
“I love food,” said Karl.
They all laughed.
“Oh, and I must thank you for the watch I found in my pocket,” said Karl. “It is in perfect condition, but it looks like a watch from the 1920s. In fact, it’s got ‘1924’ on the back of it. It is named Squire Hedges.”
Mabble Merlin had put watches in every gentleman’s jacket pocket, and in every lady’s handbag he’d put a necklace, a bracelet, earrings and a watch.
“I love my watch,” said Chantelle Chance.
Hers was a pink watch with a circle of diamonds around the clock face. This watch was named Fay Diamonds. All the watches had magical powers, but none of the guests knew this. They would all find out in time. The diamonds on Fay Diamond were pink diamonds, hand-mined in South Africa. The motto on the watch was ‘Diamonds are a girl’s best friend.’
Anthony Pool sat opposite Chantelle. The diamonds sparkled and she was sparkling.
“That watch sparkles like you do,” he said.
“Thank you, Anthony. That’s a lovely compliment. You look very cute in that suit and with that pocket watch,” said Chantelle.
“My grandfather had a pocket watch and I always wanted one. This could be the fashion of the future, don’t you think, Chantelle?” he replied.
“What are you talking about?” asked Bob Fox.
“Fashions of the future,” said Chantelle.
“Well, let’s talk about it, then. Do you think we should go into business and bring out some new fashion designs based on the 1920s and 1930s?”
“I think trilbies and spats should come back into fashion,” said Anthony. “And I want boas and feathers and tassels and the charleston dance to come back into fashion.”
“Ah,” said Bob Fox, “let’s call our company Charleston Fashions.”
“That’s a deal!” said Chantelle enthusiastically.
Elegance was Chantelle’s middle name - Chantelle Elegance Chance.
A Game of Cluedo
After the meal, the guests played Cluedo - a game where someone has to murder someone (only pretend, of course) and in some strange way. They chose death by chocolate cake, and Madeleine Short was chosen to be the unlucky victim - only pretend, of course, and all in fun.
Miles had baked a beautiful chocolate cake. He named it ‘midnight chocolate cake’. It was laced with rum, but one slice was laced with something stronger - deadly nightshade! It was actually just wild-turkey whisky, but Madeleine had to pretend it was poisonous. Madeleine Short (or Maddy, as she liked to be known) was told to take a bite or two and then pretend to drop down dead.
Miles brought out the chocolate cake, and all the guests thought it was delicious.
“The taste of rum in this is delicious,” said Barry Winters.
“Crikey!” croaked Madeleine Short. “I can’t taste rum. It’s burning my throat. It’s like firewater.”
Then she dropped to the floor like a bag of hammers. She wasn’t really dead - it was just a game - but Mog Og hadn’t really understood it was a game. He started to panic.
“Call a doctor!” cried Herbert Rufus. “I think she’s been poisoned.”
Jessie Jakes rushed over to the 1920s telephone. It was one of those telephones with a separate earpiece, and it looked a bit strange to Mog Og, who couldn’t understand what everyone was up to. He was getting a bit worried by this game of Cluedo.
Jessie called a doctor, and seconds later the door burst open and in flew Patrick’s friend Dr Rama Singh.
“I’m so glad you could make it, Dr Singh,” said Patrick. “We think Madeleine’s been poisoned, but we don’t know who is responsible.”
“Well, it wasn’t me,” said Mog Og. (Everyone seemed to be looking at him.)
“Sorry, but I think you did it, Mike,” said John Vermont.
“I haven’t murdered Madeleine. How preposterous!” said Mike Short, seething with anger.
“Someone here must have brought some deadly poison with them, so let’s look for it. The bottle must be hidden somewhere.”
All the guests went to search for the deadly poison.
Henry Bollinger was getting rather drunk. He went into the living room and noticed the picture clock. It showed Westminster Bridge and Big Ben. Suddenly, the picture changed, so it now showed the London Eye. Then the picture changed again. This time it showed a theatre called the Big Eye, and when he looked closely he could see that there was a date on the building. It read, ‘Built in 2012’. He blinked and when he opened his eyes the picture had gone back to the original scene, showing Westminster Bridge and Big Ben. Henry thought he had imagined the whole thing because he’d had too much to drink.
At that moment Harriet came into the room.
“Henry Nelson, you’re wobbling,” she said. “You have had too much to drink.”
“I was just looking at this picture, Harriet, and ...” Henry was slurring his words.
“Don’t tell me - the picture changed and you saw some pink elephants!”
“No, I saw a theatre named the Big Eye, built in 2012.”
“Well, Henry, it’s not there now, is it?”
Then Alice Bridges came into the room.
“Wow! That is a lovely picture clock of Westminster Bridge,” she said.
There were red double-decker buses going over the bridge. It looked like the image was suspended in time, and that’s exactly what all the pictures were: real images suspended in time.
Whilst they were admiring London Melody, Dr Rama Singh and Miles helped to carry Madeleine Short upstairs, and they laid her on the spare bed in one of the guest rooms.
Then Dr Rama Singh and Miles went downstairs and Dr Rama Singh said to the assembled guests, “I cannot find a pulse, so it is very bad news. She must have had a great deal of poison to die so quickly.”
Then Patrick asked, “Are you off duty now, Dr Singh? Would you like a drink?”
“Of course I’m off duty, Patrick! What do you think I am - a workaholic?”
“Ha ha!” said Patrick. “That’s so funny. Would you like a pear wine, my good friend?”
“A pear wine would be excellent.”
Dr Singh’s wife, Chandra Singh, was in India visiting relatives. She was in Bombay, but she would be going to a hotel named the Jewel of India, in Goa. Dr Singh spent hours on the phone to Chandra, speaking in Gujarati. His phone bill was astronomical.
“Your pear wine, Dr Singh.”
As usual, Dr Singh was on his mobile phone, speaking to his wife. Raj Peshwari could understand what he was talking about as he spoke the same language.
“I’m drinking pear wine,” Dr Singh told his wife. “Madeleine Short has dropped down dead, and Miles and I have just taken her upstairs and put her on the spare bed in the guest room.”
His wife must have said something like “What are you talking about? Are you losing your marbles?” because Dr Singh replied, “No, I’m not losing my marbles. I’ve got them all. I can’t explain now, but it’s connected with a game of Cluedo they’re playing at Penelope’s birthday party, Chandra.”
Raj Peshwari was waiting till Dr Singh finished the conversation. He hoped to strike up a conversation with him in Gujarati, but Dr Singh had a great deal to say to his wife so Raj went to speak to Cherry Scrimshaw instead.
Cherry was sitting in the living room, and she had just given Mog Og a pickled onion.
“I see you’ve finished your drink. Shall I get you another one?” Raj asked.
“Yes, that would be nice,” said Cherry.
“What would you like?”
“Irish mead would be nice.”
“Shall I bring you a few pickled onions and some party sausage rolls and some pineappl
e and cheese? It looks like you’ve been feeding half of yours to Mog Og.”
Meanwhile, upstairs Madeleine Short was sitting on the bed, wondering if they had found the bottle of poison or if they had forgotten about her. She thought she’d wait another ten minutes, and she looked at the watch that had come with her necklace and bracelet. It was a gold watch with a gold strap, and it looked as though there were rubies in the strap and a triangle of rubies in the watch face. The watch was named Ruby Sanctuary.
Madeleine fiddled with the watch and pressed some of the buttons on the back. Suddenly the glass covering the watch face swung away and a red beam of light shot out. Unbelievably, it formed a doorway of red light.
Madeleine wondered if she’d been drinking too much or if she was dreaming; something compelled her to walk through the strange door, and she was flabbergasted to find herself in a town she didn’t know. She could hear a lot of seagulls so she knew it must be near the sea. She looked at her watch and the glass was back in place.
Well, she walked along and then came to a small building with a sign which read, ‘Jezebel’s Jazz Club, appearing for one night only, the one and only Madeleine Short’.
Madeleine had always wanted to be a jazz singer, but her singing was a bit rusty as she and her husband had been running their own business non-stop. They owned Bollinger’s Fashion House, and they taught designers in the fashion industry, but Madeleine had always wanted to sing jazz in a nightclub.
When she went in, the manager of Jezebel’s Jazz Club came over to her and said, “Thank God you’re not late!”
“But I’m - I’m-” Madeleine started to stutter.
“Yes, you’re here, and that’s all that matters,” the manager interrupted her.
Suddenly Madeleine felt as if she was a famous jazz singer. She sang a few notes and her voice was incredible. To cut a long story short, that was how Madeleine came to be a jazz singer for a night.
Meanwhile, Miles had gone into the room where he had left Madeleine, but of course she wasn’t there. Miles looked under the bed and in the wardrobe and in the en-suite room, but there was no sign of Madeleine.
He went downstairs to tell Mike Short.
“Mike, Madeleine has disappeared into thin air,” he said.
“Well, let’s go and find her, then,” said Mike.
All the guests went searching all over the house, thinking it was part of the game. Little did they realise she was in Folkestone, in Jezebel’s Jazz Club - singing instead of pretending to be murdered in a daft game of Cluedo.
As Madeleine enjoyed herself in the jazz club, belting out jazz songs with a group of jazz musicians, the guests were searching high and low for her. They looked under the beds and in the wardrobes and cupboards, and even in the creepy cellar and the loft.
At last Henry Bollinger piped up: “Let’s not spoil the party by looking for someone that obviously doesn’t want to be found. Game over!”
Mog Og Is Reassured
At the end of the first song Madeleine felt fantastic. The crowd had really enjoyed it. One of the revellers came over and asked where Madeleine had got her lovely 1920s dress.
She had forgotten that she was wearing an authentic 1920s dress. It was a sparkly crimson dress with a red feather boa and sparkly red shoes - the perfect dress for a singer in a jazz club.
Mog Og decided he’d had enough party food. He was worried about Madeleine. He couldn’t get his head round it - first she was dead, then she disappeared, but how, and why, and where to?
He decided to ask Polly Quazar. He wanted to know what in the world was going on. Did anybody know?
“Hey, Polly Quazar,” shouted Mog Og. (It was so noisy in the house with all the guests running around.) “I’d just like to know what’s happened to Madeleine. Have you got any ideas? Was she really murdered?”
“Of course she wasn’t murdered, Mog Og. It was just a game.”
“Well, where has she gone to?”
“Well, she’s alive and well and happy and in Folkestone.”
“In Folkestone!” yelled Mog Og. “Stop kidding around, Polly.”
“I don’t know how she got there, but I know she is there. She’s in a jazz club singing.”
“Will she be back?”
“Oh, yeah, Mog Og, she’ll be back.”
“Don’t tell me - before midnight!” yelled Mog Og. “And who murdered her in the game?”
“Actually it was the very beautiful Cherry Scrimshaw. She worked for Bollinger’s Fashion House near Hampstead and she was furious when they chose Sandra Southern’s designs instead of hers,” said Polly.
“Well, that’s very mean of Cherry Scrimshaw. She was feeding me pickled onions all night, so I’m lucky she didn’t try to poison me too.”
“The game is only pretend, Mog Og. It isn’t real - it’s just for fun,” said Polly, shouting above the noise.
“So where has Madeleine gone if, as you say, it’s just a game.”
“As I said, Mog Og, Madeleine will be-”
“Back before midnight?” interrupted Mog Og.
“Exactly!” said Polly. “I rest my case.”
“Well, I’d better take my confused brain out and put my clear brain back in, because later tonight I’ve got a date with a lovely lady feline.”
“Anyone we know?” asked Polly.
“Her name’s Mystique.”
More Broken Clocks
The guests had given up looking for Madeleine, and they were all settled back at the table waiting to be served with individual jellies. Miles brought them on a tray.
“I’ll help you to hand them out,” piped up Henry Bollinger, who was even more tipsy than before.
He took a few off the tray, but he was so unsteady, and the jelly wibbled and wobbled so much, that one fell down the back of Marilyn’s dress. She was wearing a beautiful silver dress - she looked like a mermaid.
“Wha-woo!” she screamed. “That’s cold!”
The other guests started to laugh as Miles rushed forward with a napkin.
“Don’t worry,” said Marilyn.
Mervin took the napkin off Miles and used it to wipe jelly from the back of her dress.
“I’m awfully sorry,” said Henry. “I’m a huge clumsy oaf.”
“You can say that again!” said Harriet, and they all laughed.
But out of the jelly had tumbled a little key, and Mervin said, “What’s this key for? Perhaps the bottle of poison has been locked away somewhere.”
The poison was locked away in a tiny trinket box in the handbag of Cherry Scrimshaw. She had tried to hide the trinket box in the grandfather clock in the hall, but she couldn’t open the clock so she had hidden it on a shelf in the closet. Charles Sayre had seen her hiding it, and he had slipped the box back into Cherry’s handbag.
Henry grabbed the key as Miles brought in some blancmange.
“Who wants blancmange?” he asked.
Miles stood there with a huge blancmange on a tray.
“That looks gorgeous!” said Tamara.
Suddenly Mervin grabbed the key back off Henry, and as he did so his elbow caught the corner of the tray. The huge blancmange fell off the tray, and some of it landed on Mog Og, some landed on Wanda, some landed on Carolyn Chivers, some on Clifford Jones, some on June Jakes, and some on Charles Sayre.
Mog Og shouted and rushed around the room. At the same time, the cuckoo clock, Jasmine Feathersprings, started to cuckoo. She screeched at Mog Og because as he shook the blancmange off his fur some of it went into her feathers and up her nose, almost choking her, and in her mouth. She coughed and spluttered and shouted at Mog Og until her voice was hoarse.
“I’ve got a date tonight, and look at the state of me!” shouted Mog Og.
“And look at the state of me!” cri
ed Jasmine. “It’s your fault, Mog Og.”
She flew out at Mog Og, and her springs suddenly broke. She tried to stand up, but she couldn’t. She could hardly speak.
“Oh dear, oh dear! I’ve broken my feather springs,” she gasped. Then she sat down and began to cry.
Meanwhile Mike had found a large key, and he thought he would open George up to see if the deadly nightshade was hidden inside. However, the key was for winding George up, and in his attempt to open the clock he wound poor George so much that he could hardly breathe. Suddenly all George’s springs made a loud popping sound, as though something had broken, but he was just wound up so tight he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t tick and tock any more, and it looked as though his eyebrows had risen two inches off his face.
“Oh, George, you don’t look well,” said Mog Og when he came into the hallway.
“Oh, dear! Oh, me!” said George. “I’ve been wound up too tight. I can hardly breathe.”
Miles went upstairs to have one last look for Madeleine. He went in and out of all the bedrooms until he was dizzy. In the bedroom Penelope had used to get ready in he found Omega Horizon on the floor. Her face was cracked, and it looked as though some clumsy oaf had trodden on her. Omega had shouted for help, but then she had passed out with the pain.
Miles picked her up, and then on the dressing table he noticed a business card from Mabble Merlin’s Clock-and-Watch Hospital. ‘Open all hours - Dial 123456 and we’ll be there before you put the phone down,’ it read.
Miles carried Omega Horizon downstairs, and he soon realised that the grandfather clock wasn’t working. Then he saw that Jasmine wasn’t working. And then, when he went into the kitchen, he saw the French court clock, Claudette de Seconds, sitting on the floor. In a fit of temper she’d jumped off the wall. She was sick of all the noise - especially Mog Og running around shouting. She missed life at the French court. One of her hands had fallen off, and she hadn’t bothered to put her make-up on or to do her hair. Her false eyelashes had also fallen off.
Miles picked her up off the floor and quickly went to make a phone call. He wasn’t thinking straight, and he went to use the pretend 1920s phone, which wasn’t even connected.
The Musty Old Magical Curiosity Shop Page 11
