Hubble Bubble (13 page)

‘Then they should have thought about that before,’ Tarnia snapped, her fingers dabbing at some of the brown crumbs on the table top. ‘And made plans for their futures.’

‘Like you did?’

The crumbs hovered on a slim orange fingertip, then fell off. ‘Exactly like I did.’

Oh, come on! Mitzi thought. Tarnia had never done a decent day’s work in her life. She and Snotty Mark had married in the early 1970s because she was pregnant. They’d lived with Mark’s parents until the birth of the second Snepps baby when the council had given them a maisonette. It was only when Tarnia was heavily pregnant
with Snepps number three that Snotty Mark had jabbed his lucky biro into the right number of football teams.

‘And how are the children?’ Mitzi pushed the tea away. She might as well forget about the cakes. This was going to be another waste of time.

‘Fine,’ Tarnia said shortly. ‘Wayne and Warren are directors of the company, of course, and living in Surrey. They’re very busy with their own lives and families. We don’t see much of them.’

‘And Lisa-Marie?’

‘Runs her own business in London. She rarely has the time to come home.’

‘Strip joints, wasn’t it?’

‘Nightclubs!’ Tarnia hissed. ‘Nightclubs. Very classy. Lisa-Marie’s training in – um – dancing stood her in good stead.’

‘As did marrying one of her Middle-Eastern clients.’

‘Get out!’ Tarnia gripped the edge of the table. ‘There’s nothing you can say to me that will make me change my mind. Nothing. Not sob stories about the Hazy Hassocks saddoes, or threats, or blackmail! I do not want the plebs using my hall or my land! Understood?’

Sod it, Mitzi thought crossly. An insult too far.

‘Okay. Fine. I should have realised that you wouldn’t listen to reason. Compassion was never top of your list of attributes, was it?’ She gathered the Powers of Persuasion Puddings together, then broke one in half and popped it into her mouth. ‘Mmmm – delicious … such a shame you can’t have one. No, no – don’t waver. I’d hate to be responsible for you gaining an ounce …’

Tarnia took a longing look at the glossy brown cakes, shot out a slender orange hand and clenched her iridescent nails into the crumbly surface. Mitzi held her breath. With eye-watering speed, Tarnia crammed the whole thing between her pouting, collagen-enhanced lips.

Mitzi held her breath. What on earth was she doing? There was no way on earth that this was going to work. She
waited until Tarnia’s cheeks bulged. Her heart was thudding. Now? Should she? Oh, heck, why not? What was there to lose? Even if was all pie in the sky.

‘There. Lovely isn’t it? Have another – Snotty Mark need never know. Oh, yes, two or three. As many as you like …’ Mitzi said softly. ‘And – and I really think you should change your mind about allowing the Baby Boomers to use the village hall and the meadows for their activities. Don’t you?’

Chapter Nine

Two days later, Mitzi, snuggled in jeans and a fluffy purple jumper, curled her fluffy purple matching-socked feet beneath her on the sofa, and shifted the phone to a more comfortable position under her chin. As the rain rattled against the window and the midday sky darkened with racing storm clouds, the sumptuously coloured living room enveloped itself round her, and she truly relished not having to be at work. Not for the first time in recent weeks, she reckoned Troy and Tyler, and the bank’s venture into youth culture had done her a massive favour.

‘So,’ Mitzi’s voice echoed down the phone. ‘What do reckon to a little get-together? Here, next Friday night? Just family, friends, the neighbours and maybe a few of the Baby Boomers.’

She’d known, it being lunchtime, that she’d catch Doll at home doing her housework. It was the way she’d organised her domestic life for years: not wanting to use noisy electrical appliances while Brett slept, not able to tolerate any mess or disorder, not allowing anything to get out of hand. It would be nice, Mitzi reckoned, if their new-found passion could include a bit of, well, loosening up on the domestic front too. There was something scary about Doll’s obsession with all things clean and tidy.

‘Sounds a nice idea,’ Doll said, ‘but – um – we’re not really the sort of family that has parties, are we? I mean,
friends round, yes – but this sounds like
entertaining
on a grand scale.’

Mitzi grinned into the phone, picturing Doll’s perplexed face. Sadly, she could also picture her perched on the very 1970s telephone seat in the bungalow’s hall. Hopefully, since the resurgence of the rekindled emotion, the bungalow was warmer than it used to be. That hall had been a virtual icebox.

‘Oh, this won’t be anything formal. Just a drop-in. There’s some stuff I need to sort out before we have our next BBC meeting in the village hall, and I – er – just thought I’d try a few new bits and pieces from Granny’s book and—’

‘Are you sure?’ Doll’s voice sounded as though she was frowning. ‘I know what happened with those funny puddings. Dad told me Flo only had one and he found himself almost having to fight her off, and they must have seriously addled Tarnia’s brain if she’s agreed to let you use the village hall for your shenanigans and—’

‘Yes, well …’ Mitzi cut in quickly, not wanting to think about the methods she’d employed with Tarnia, or the awful consequences for the BBC should she change her mind. She winced as, without warning, Richard and Judy crampon’d their way onto her lap. ‘I’m not quite sure what happened there. The puddings may have played a part – but I doubt it … Anyway, the effects clearly aren’t permanent. Flo hasn’t got a good word to say about your dad again now.’

‘Thank the lord for that. And are you sure about
Friday?
It’s Halloween …’

‘Mmmm … I had noticed. But I’ve found some lovely old-fashioned Halloween recipes which aren’t doubtful at all. It’d be great if you and Brett could pop round – about eight-ish?’

‘Doubt if Brett will be able to. He’s doing a double-early on Saturday morning. But I’d love to come for an hour or so – especially if you’re inviting Shay for Lulu as the in-house entertainment.’

‘Don’t be cruel. Since he arrived we’ve only caught glimpses of him as he flies in and out. Still, I’ll include an invite for him when I pop round to Lav and Lob’s in a minute, and hope he’s not working next Friday night. His shifts are even worse than Brett’s. Oh, and did you know that slimeball Niall has moved his new girlfriend into the loft?’

‘Yes, Lu told me. Apparently she’s his office line-manager and the affair’s been going on for some time. All their friends knew, of course. Poor old Lu – I think Shay could be just what she needs, in more ways than one.’ Doll giggled. ‘Look I’ve got to dash or I won’t have this hall hoovered before it’s time to go back to work. Count me in for the get-together. See you Friday, then. Bye.’

Mitzi clicked off the phone, took another mouthful of coffee, shifted Richard and Judy into a less painful position on her lap, then dialled the charity shop.

‘Oh, hello Hedley, it’s Mitzi. Can I have a quick word with Lulu, please? Oh, is she? What, in Hazy Hassocks? Again? Goodness me. She didn’t mention anything to me about it. She’s with Biff, is she? Good – well, yes, in case things turn nasty, of course. No, it was nothing important. Just something I wanted her to buy on her way home. No, nothing drastic – just another loaf of bread – and she’d probably forget it anyway. Thanks a lot. Bye …’

The phone rang as soon as she put it down. She snatched it up again. Richard and Judy, who had spilled like liquid mercury into the space the phone had left, narrowed their eyes at it.

‘Hello, Mitzi Blessing – oh, hello Lance. Your scarf? Did you? I haven’t seen it. What colour was it? Oh,
that one.
The one I bought you the year – oh, yes, well – no I haven’t seen it here. Maybe Flo picked it up and sleeps with it under her pillow … What? You have no sense of humour any more! Jennifer’s what? Again? Is she old enough to need that lifted, then? Crikey … Me? Nothing much – just sitting by the fire organising my Baby Boomers
and planning a few recipes for Halloween, that’s all. Yes, it’s a great life isn’t it? What? Yes, of course if I find the scarf, I’ll ring you – but my money’s on Flo …’

Mitzi was still giggling as she hung up. Finishing her coffee, she idly flicked through the pages of Granny Westward’s cookery book. Halloween, it appeared, was a major occasion in the home-cooking and village-ritual calendar. Not, of course, that Mitzi for one moment believed that this herbal-dabbling worked, but still.

‘All Hallows Mallows,’ she read aloud to Richard and Judy. ‘As Lance said, they should be nice for the trick-or-treaters … Midnight Apples? Indigestion on a plate if you ask me … Oh, and look at this. If you light two dozen candles and sprinkle yarrow backwards into the flames you’re supposed to see your one true love. Mmmm … well, maybe – especially if your one true love is a firefighter … I think—’ she stroked the two grey silky bodies ‘—that this could be a lot of fun …’

‘My mother’s gone mad,’ Doll muttered through her mask an hour later as she assisted Joel with the completion of a multiple-filling appointment. ‘She’s turning to witchcraft.’

The patient, prone and shackled in the chair, gave an involuntary twitch.

‘Sorry, Mr Knowles,’ Doll crinkled her eyes at him. Smiling with the lips was pointless because of the mask. ‘Just a figure of speech … No,—’ she raised her eyes to Joel again as she passed the loaded amalgam carrier ‘—I mean, she found this book that belonged to my great-grandmother, all herbal recipes and suchlike, and she’s made some really strange concoctions from it – anyway, she rang me at lunchtime and invited me over for Halloween, and I know she’s planning something else and—’

The patient jerked slightly.

‘Sorry, Mr Knowles. The witchcraft isn’t inherited and doesn’t stretch to dental procedures. We’re treating your occlusal cavities with the best your private health insurance
can buy – not some herbal infusion and an incantation.’

Joel grinned. His very blue eyes twinkled. The mask made him look even more dangerous. Like a highwayman.

‘Excuse me—’ the surgery door opened and Tammy undulated in ‘—Mr Johnson says have you nicked our steriliser?’

Despite declaring him far too old to be fanciable, since Joel’s arrival Tammy had taken to hoiking her uniform dress up to groin level and wearing long boots. She looked like a Principal Boy.

‘No, we haven’t,’ Doll muttered. ‘And I bet Mr J never used the word “nick” in his life. Viv’s probably got it out in reception for steaming her pores. Sorry Mr Knowles – would you like to rinse?’

Tammy undulated out again, slamming the door. Mr Knowles missed the basin.

Joel flexed his shoulders and removed his mask. ‘This Halloween party sounds like fun. There might be something similar on in Winterbrook, I suppose, if I bothered to look. I really ought to get out more, although I’ve got a feeling Halloween will see me in the flat watching Jamie Lee Curtis being scared out of her wits for the thirty-ninth time …’

Thanks to Tammy’s less-than-subtle interrogation techniques, the whole practice knew that Joel was a Divorced-No-Kids. And that the ex-Mrs Earnshaw was merrily shacked up with Joel’s brother in a Manchester semi.

‘Why don’t you come along to my Mum’s party, then?’ Doll said recklessly, helping Mr Knowles to his feet. ‘Well, it’s not a party as such, or so she says. Just a few people round to try out her new spells – er – recipes.’

‘I couldn’t possibly. Your mother doesn’t know me. And I couldn’t gatecrash a family-gathering—’

‘Course you could,’ Doll said as Mr Knowles scampered out of the surgery. ‘Believe me, one more stray odd-bod at Mum’s will be neither here nor there.’

*

‘It’s getting very dark,’ Lulu said, pulling her Afghan more closely round her and blowing on her mittened fingers. ‘And I’m sure people know we’re here. And the cars all go through that puddle so I’m soaking and cold – and there hasn’t been a sign of
them
.’

‘It’s more like December than October,’ Biff agreed from her chunky crouching position behind the hedge. ‘But don’t be such a namby-pamby, Lu. What’s a little discomfort compared with the mission we’re on? Although sometimes, on days like this, even I wish we could do our undercover stuff in the summer months only.’

Lu looked askance at her employer. ‘That’d be hardly fair on the animals, would it? Ill-treatment is probably at its height in the run-up to Christmas and just after …’

‘It was a joke,’ Biff said testily. ‘And don’t speak so loudly, Lu. We’re supposed to be on a secret sortie. Silence is the key. Oh, bugger …’

Lulu giggled as Biff’s mobile trumpeted Teddy Bear’s Picnic into the murky gloom.

There was a lot of hissed conversation, then Biff switched the mobile off with a flourish. ‘Hedley. Your mother phoned. Can you pick up a loaf on your way home?’

‘That’ll be for the pickled newt sandwiches.’ ‘What?’ Biff adjusted her misted-up bifocals. ‘I thought you were a committed veggie. Anyway, Hedley also said he’s had a tip-off from our people in Fiddlesticks – the quarry is on its way.’

Thank goodness for that, Lulu thought, hoping she’d remember Mitzi’s bread but somehow doubting it.

This front-line rescue service was a sideline of the animal welfare charity shop that Hedley and Biff had developed over the years. While Lu would do anything, anything at all, to rescue any animal in need, at the moment she was very cold and very uncomfortable, and beginning to become aware of the Afghan coat’s antisocial aroma when wet.

There was also a tiny part of her that thought that they might very well be on another wild goose chase.

Hedley and Biff’s underground network of informants were mostly over eighty, all slightly barking, and usually got the wrong end of every available stick. But because, on rare occasions, the intelligence had been correct and animals in sad and sorry states had been whisked away to live the life of Riley, Lulu knew she’d never refuse to accompany Biff on these missions.

However, she felt that this afternoon, squatting in a dripping privet hedge at the far end of Hazy Hassocks high street, on the flimsiest of tip-offs, with people and cars going past all the time and rush hour getting very close – well, such as the Hazy Hassocks rush hour was, of course – when they’d be visible to practically everyone, was probably not going to be one of their glory moments.