W/beg 12th Dec … The comfort of friends…

Yet another peculiar week, all of which culminated in my making the usual exhibition of myself and – shamefully – falling asleep fairly soon after the start of the musical soiree at the Hall on Friday evening. But more of that later…

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Lady G strode purposefully towards the back door of End Cottage. Rather too purposefully I felt, in the circs, but she’s always positive, so there was nothing for it but to follow. The dogs came too, of course – and even Tom pushed his activity level to the limit and strolled alongside me. Whatever else they are, cat’s aren’t stupid, I remember thinking (forgetting the thing about curiosity) and it gave me added courage.

As before there was no sign of activity inside, but I’ll swear the tumblers on the draining rack had moved since I’d last seen them. Unlike last time, the animals formed a respectful line by the door and waited for their orders.

“Someone’s been in here again” a voice squeaked … Lady G gave me one of those looks and I realised it was me.

“Maddie, darling, we’ve agreed. This is not a scarey situation” (I had to admit she was looking exceptionally chilled) “and I have a feeling that the key is in here and we just have to find it. The thing is to keep calm”. She rotated, slowly, on a heel, taking in every detail of the room. “Sleeping bag, glasses, knife, seating and a table…” she murmured to herself, “Hmm… I think I want to look in…” and she dived towards it “Here!” homing in on the first ammo box.

I’ll admit I hung back, but she was already picking up the candles and holding them out in my direction, so I had no choice but to step up and take them. I put them down carefully on the floor and watched – part horrified, part (I freely admit) as nosey as the Terrier at a mole hill. Finally she grasped the heavy metal latch (for the record I feel I have to report that even she closed her eyes briefly and – I swear – took a deep breath) then heaved. The lid swung back and – despite myself – I craned forward over her shoulder.

The thing was stack-full of Gordon’s Export … well, apart from the space that was taken up by an ice bucket and a rectangular tower of smallish plastic bricks.

“Eh?…” we said, in unison. Lady G was the first to reach in, snatch up a brick and tear off the plastic wrapper to reveal … playing cards! She sat back on her heels.

“I’m beginning to see” she said, in grim tones “now, who…” and reached for the latch on the second box.

What we saw in there – well, I couldn’t think of anything to say. She was speechless too. We looked at each other. The thing was full of toothpaste tubes. Realisation dawned slowly. Emotions zipped about – amazement, relief (particularly on her part), surprise and … ultimately … rage!

“Haugn-Beigh!!!…” we said, in stereo and then we collapsed in a giggling heap.

“I have to admit to feeling rather deflated” she said later, “Obviously I’m relieved, for all our sakes and I think we can rule out a terrorist cell – at least of the conventional sort. The thing that amazes me is that a twit like him could sneak in and out of here without giving himself away”.

The thought had crossed my mind too …and I’d never figured him for the domestic type either so there was obviously more to learn, but knowing the identity of the little beast went a very long way to restoring my equilibrium.

I just need to take a moment here to apologise for a less than dramatic outcome to the Mysterie after such a lengthy build-up, but from my point of view it’s a gazillion times better to know that I was being frightened by my own imaginings rather than some sort of, well, I hate to think. [ .. There will be more to come and I’ll record it here, obv, but at least Christmas is going to be more enjoyable than I was expecting  .. ].

… and while I’m in confession mode I should clarify the evening disgrace referred to above. …Well, suffice it to say that the stress of the last few weeks, followed by the relief of telling all to Lady G, discovering the contents of the boxes, followed by, after that, glugging down an enormous glass of lethal mulled wine (Note to self – Must get the recipe from Spantrey..) resulted in yours truly spending a disgracefully comfortable night courtesy of Sir Fred and Lady G.

PS  Drifting off to sleep to the sound of lovely music, then waking up the next morning swathed in Cashmere throws is the way to go for the future, I feel. Maybe a pay rise is called for in 2011? Bankers seem to be doing rather well at the moment after all – plus ca change…