Plot Twist!

Good morning, everyone! Greetings from a slightly cooler, yet still pleasant Three Counties Border (Shropshire side). I've been busy this morning baking bread, making a chicken and leek pie for His Lordship Malarkey's lunch, some jam tarts with the last of the Damson Cottage damson jam, and , of course, working up another episode of 'Clive and Min' for you. His Lordship Malarkey is outside constructing a window for the potting shed. It is reminding me rather of that scene in 'Carry On Cleo' when Kenneth Connor as Hengist Pod occupies himself making square wheels which his new neighbour, Horsa (played by Jim Dale) then repurposes as a window frame. But don't tell Andy I said that.

Enjoy today's episode. I want to know how much you gasp when you reach the cliff-hanger. If at all...

Min wasn’t at home the afternoon that the proprietor of Cluedon’t was due to visit and inspect the room that had been provisionally hired at Satis House. Min had fretted that a forgotten appointment had reared its head unexpectedly in her diary that day, but Connie, in all her brisk efficiency, had taken charge.

‘I’ll be home from work by 3,’ she said. ‘I can show the woman around. Don’t worry.’

 Min looked at her increasingly useful lodger and smiled. ‘Oh, would you?’ she said. ‘That’d be such a relief. I can leave the paperwork ready for her to read and sign. Of course, I’d like to meet the woman myself, to make sure she is the right kind of person to be renting out a room in my home, but I trust your impeccable judge of character.’

 ‘Ha!’ said Connie. ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say impeccable, given I’m almost divorced. But I can certainly give her the once over. Make sure she’s hygienic and doesn’t have too many tattoos, piercings or psychopathic vibes.  I can ask her a few nosy questions, too, if you’ve got anything specific you want to know. It’ll make me feel useful.’

Min said that, no, there was nothing specific she needed to know, as long as the woman looked respectable and paid her deposit up front. And then, leaving the contract paperwork on the kitchen table, she ruffled Halliwell’s furry head and disappeared to meet her appointment.

And so it was that Satis House was quiet at 3 that afternoon, the quietest it had been for weeks. Willow had now completed her work and moved on to her next job, a pub renovation. She had promised to keep in touch, especially as Min was keen to begin getting rid of Clive’s taxidermy collection if the pub would take some of the pieces, no matter how little they were willing to pay. ‘To be honest,’ Min said to Willow as she thanked her on her last day at Satis House, ‘I’d pay them to take the monstrosities away. Especially that wild boar. Of all the pieces, it’s the one that gives me the most heebie-jeebies.’

 And Amazing had hit a peak of frenzied excitement as fast approaching launch date of her new tea rooms drew ever nearer. She had spent all morning in purposeful activity, making lists and taking delivery of boxes of paper napkins and menus. It was the menus that had caused her The Angst of the Day, as she called it, and now she popped an enraged face around the open door to Connie’s room, which somewhat startled Connie because Amazing was rarely enraged, being a calm ‘all will be well’ kind of person.

 ‘Beautiful Connie,’ began Amazing. ‘I am just going out to town to confront the printers about this up-cocking of my beautiful Autumn and Hallowe’en launch menus,’ and she waved a sample menu in Connie’s direction.

‘Look!’ she continued. ‘I take all my time to write and design these quality menus of great artistic beauty to place on the tables, so customers can see what delights I have made for them, and THIS happens,’ and she stabbed her finger at the sample. ‘I make a joke, for Hallowe’en, about the meringues. I call them ‘BOO-meringues’, which I think is very witty, yes?’

 Connie nodded. ‘Very,’ she said. ‘Almost as good as the Coffin and Walnut Cake and the Vampire BAT-tenburg.’

 ‘Yes,’ said Amazing. ‘But I am particularly pleased with my BOO-meringues, and it is this that the printers have up-cocked with their not so clever auto-correct computing machine. It has been printed as ‘Boomerang,’ which spoils the joke completely.’

‘It does rather,’ said Connie, who had risen from the chair and table she had set up in the bay window of her room to serve as a work station, and was now examining the offending article.

‘It completely misses the point of the Hallowe’en theme,’ said Amazing. ‘And there are only three weeks to go until the launch and we have much more to do. I need to have it out with the printers immediately, today, now.’

Connie nodded. ‘Of course…’

 ‘But what I need to ask you, which is why I have interrupted your privacy, for which I am very sorry,’ said Amazing, ‘is that when the Cluedon’t people arrive, could you enquire of them if they would like refreshment on their rehearsal evenings, because I would like them to know that I can provide them many lovely cakes and biscuits, and here is my menu for THAT,’ and she thrust another piece of card at Connie, ‘which the printers have not up-cocked, thank the Lord and St Augustine, who is the patron saint of printers.’

 With a smile, Connie nodded. ‘Of course I can,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, Amazing. I shall do my best to market your lovely refreshment package to them, and tell them they would be fools not to place an order.’

 Amazing grabbed each of Connie’s cheeks and gave them a squeeze. ‘Thank you, Connie! You are kindness itself. And now, I must go to sort out this mess. All will be well!’

 At three minutes to three, the doorbell rang. Connie had been waiting in the kitchen, reading through the rental agreement Min had drawn up for the room hire which was, like its author, concise and precise.

 ‘Bang on time, Halliwell,’ she said to the cat who had been keeping her company. ‘Punctuality score – ten out of ten, big tick, gold star.’

 Halliwell released a low growl, and a ridge of fur along his spine stood on end and quivered.

 Connie raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Halliwell,’ she said. ‘What on earth is the matter? It’s only the door-bell. You’ve heard that many times before, you silly cat.’

 She bent towards him, hand outstretched to give him a reassuring pat, but he backed away from her, still emitting a long, low growl, and then ran from the kitchen into the hallway where he jumped onto the hall table and stared unblinkingly at the door. The fur on his back continued to twitch and his tail flicked from side to side like a whip.

 Connie shrugged and followed him. ‘Just you behave,’ she warned him. ‘We don’t want any more repeats of the Sergeant Phelps leg gouging incident, do we? This is a paying customer. You must treat her with respect for Min’s sake. No money coming in equals no premium brand kitty dinners for you, my lad.’

Halliwell fixed Connie with a stare from his glinting eyes, and then he slowly closed and opened them.

‘Good,’ said Connie, taking the signal as one of compliance, and that it was safe to open the door.

 On the doorstep stood a middle aged woman, made up to the nines, with huge blonde hair and wearing clothes that seemed rather showbiz and extravagant for a mid-afternoon business appointment. Must be a mark of the theatrical type, thought Connie, extending her hand, which the woman took, applying one of those weak, limp-as-a-lettuce-leaf handshakes that always made Connie feel suspicious.

‘Good afternoon,’ said the woman, stepping into the hallway at Connie’s invitation. ‘Miss Minerva Thing, I presume?’

 ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Connie. ‘I am Connie Franks, her friend and lodger. Miss Thing apologises but she had to go out unexpectedly. She’s left me in charge of conducting the interview and showing you the room.’

 Halliwell was still grumbling away from his station on the hall table, and Connie was finding his attitude unnerving, because he was normally such an agreeable chap.

 ‘Excuse the cat,’ she laughed. ‘He’s not great with new people, but as soon as he gets to know you, he’ll be fine.’

The woman leaned back almost imperceptibly, and flared her nostrils. ‘I’m not really a fan of animals,’ she said. ‘It won’t be allowed access to the room I want to hire, will it?’

‘Gosh no,’ said Connie. ‘The room will be an animal-free zone. I’m sure it will be the perfect space for your requirements. I understand you run some sort of performance group…’

‘Yes well, we shall see about that,’ said the woman, abruptly cutting across Connie, who was feeling even more on edge at the woman’s brusqueness.

She cleared her throat and regrouped herself. ‘Would you like to come this way, er…Mrs….’

‘Path,’ said the woman. ‘Sylvia Path.’