Elsie’s Story by Dawn Knox, tea and buns

 

Elsie’s Story

By Dawn Knox

Drink: Tea and buns

Previously: An unusual stranger has shaken up the neighbourhood. Gladys, Elsie, Minnie, Daphne and schoolboy, Cyril, have all witnessed the exotic man. Now Gladys and Elsie are determined to track him down…

 

Elsie rapped sharply on Gladys’s front door. She knocked again until the bolt was drawn inside, and the door opened. ‘Gladys! You’ll never guess what. Look at this.’

‘And a very good morning to you too, Elsie.’ Gladys juggled a bowl of cereal in one hand and kept Robert Louis Stevenson back with one foot, so he didn’t escape. ‘Do come in. How lovely to see you so early in the morning. And so unexpected.’

Elsie held up the local newspaper. ‘Oh, don’t be so grumpy, Gladys. I simply had to show you this. I bought it while I was out jogging.’

Gladys sniggered. ‘Jogging, indeed!’

‘There’s no need for that.’ Elsie’s cheeks flushed. ‘I’m more active than you.’

‘No, you’re not. You just wear sporty clothes that make it look like you’re dynamic. You haven’t jogged anywhere since you heard rumours they’d reduced the prices of the cakes in the patisserie in town.’

‘Never mind that. Just look at this.’ Elsie waved the newspaper.

‘It’s probably best if you come in and show me,’ Gladys said, spilling milk from her cereal bowl on the doormat as she stood on one foot, pushing Robert Louis Stevenson back with the other. ‘I’ll put RLS in the dining room to cool off.’

 

Seated at the kitchen table, Elsie passed the Basilwade Chronicle towards Gladys.

Naked Man on the Loose in Basilwade

Gladys read the front page and gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘That’s our man.’

‘Well, he’s not ‘our man’, strictly speaking,’ said Elsie, sipping her tea.

‘No, but I expect we’re the most traumatised by him. We had the greatest exposure.’

‘We were spying on him, so some might say it was our fault.’

‘Elsie. I’ve told you before, we were carrying out Neighbourhood Watch. Anyway, I wonder who reported him. It wasn’t Mr Johnson. That’s for sure.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I asked him who the man was, and Mr Johnson was remarkably guarded. It was almost as if he was pretending he hadn’t known the man was in his garden. But as I told him, he was talking nonsense. The naked man couldn’t have got into the garden without someone letting him in.’

‘And?’

‘Then he admitted he’d let the man in, but apparently, it’s hush-hush because of his DNA.’

Elsie frowned. ‘Whose DNA? Mr Johnson’s or the naked man’s? Is it some kind of hereditary problem?’

‘What are you talking about, Elsie? I wish you’d keep up. Mr Johnson said he signed the DNA and now he’s not allowed to tell me anything about the man.’

Elsie paused for a few seconds. ‘I think you mean an NDA, dear. A non-disclosure agreement.’

‘That’s what I said, Elsie. I wish you’d listen. Anyway, Mr Johnson and I have fallen out. He is no longer welcome in my house.’

‘Oh dear. That’s a shame. You were getting rather close.’ Elsie dipped two biscuits in her tea.

‘Yes, indeed. But no more of my sherry or cocktails for him. Or anything else, for that matter.’ Gladys raised her chin and pursed her lips.

Elsie sighed. ‘So, who else can we ask about the naked man?’

Gladys frowned. ‘He went into Daphne’s, but he wasn’t there long, so there’s no point asking her. Then he climbed into the Pegwells’. Perhaps Minnie might have more idea where he went after that.’

‘I could ask Percy Pegwell. I’ve been bumping into him quite a lot recently.’ Elsie’s cheeks flushed again. ‘He’s a really nice man.’

Gladys’s frown deepened. ‘Yes, so you keep telling me. Anyway, he seems very pleasant. I’ve no idea what he sees in Minnie, though.’

Elsie licked her finger and lowered her head as she turned the pages of the newspaper to hide her flaming cheeks. ‘Hmm. Perhaps there’ll be more mentions of our man inside. Well, I never! Look at that. I think I might have solved the mystery.’ She turned the newspaper for Gladys to see.

‘Tiberius Tromploy presents his World Famous Circus of Delights and Wonders,’ Gladys read aloud. ‘You may be on to something, Elsie. Those arty types will take their clothes off for anyone.’

‘I think that’s rather a sweeping generalisation, Gladys, but in this instance, it fits perfectly. Our man belongs to the circus.’

Gladys tapped the newspaper with one forefinger. ‘Just wait until I tell Mr Johnson I know whose DNA he has. That’ll serve him right for being such a clever clogs.’

‘But we don’t know which man is ‘our man’. Look, there are lots of performers listed in that circus advert. Let’s write them down and discuss them. You know, like they do in the police force when they’ve got a list of suspects. We could be Scrivener and Winterbottom – sleuths of Basilwade.’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Elsie. And anyway, it would be Winterbottom and Scrivener. But a list can’t hurt.’ Gladys fetched a notepad and pen and wrote all the names in the advert.

‘Who’s first,’ Elsie asked.

‘Tiberius Tromploy. But I don’t think it could be him. Look at the picture. He’s got a ridiculous twirly moustache.’

‘That’s a drawing. He might not look as plump as that in real life, and he might have shaved.’

‘True, but the illustration must bear some likeness to him. It’s his circus; he’d hardly use an image that didn’t have some resemblance.’ Gladys crossed his name off the list.

‘Who’s next?’ Elsie asked.

‘Manny the Bendy Bunny.’ Gladys scratched her head with the end of the pen. ‘What do you think a bendy bunny is?’

‘A flexible rabbit?’

‘That doesn’t sound like a very exciting circus act. Shall I leave him on the list of suspects?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’

Gladys ticked Manny’s name. ‘The next is Pablo the Pudding Wrestler. Could it be him?’

‘It’s possible. Our man was fit like you’d expect a wrestler to be, and I imagine he could have wrestled anything, even a pudding.’

Gladys frowned. ‘But when you think about it, how fit do you have to be to wrestle a pudding?’

Elsie looked up and contemplated the ceiling. ‘I can’t help my imagination conjuring up the image of a Sumo Wrestler hugging a Christmas pudding.’

Gladys followed Elsie’s gaze. ‘Yes, my imagination can see that, too. It’s a hard picture to banish. Anyway, Elsie, you eat a lot of puddings. Do you often need to overpower them? And if so, how hard are they to body slam?’

‘I do not eat a lot of pudding,’ Elsie said crossly. ‘But if I did, and I had trouble with a particular pudding, I suspect I could easily disarm and immobilise it.’

Gladys crossed Pablo out. ‘No, he’s not our man.’

‘Who’s next?’ Elsie said sharply, still annoyed at Gladys for assuming she ate lots of pudding.

‘Brenda the Bearded Person. Obviously not.’ Gladys crossed that name out. ‘Bungling Bones the Turnip? No, perhaps not.’ She crossed that one out too.

‘That leaves Punchy and Piquant, the twin champion high-wire clog dancers.’

Gladys crossed them both out.

Elsie stared. ‘What did you do that for?’

‘Oh, Elsie, for goodness’ sake, keep up! You might have been seeing double, but I assure you there was only one man in Mr Johnson’s garden. Punchy and Piquant are twins.’

Elsie pressed her lips together and frowned. ‘Twins don’t always go out in pairs. Our man might be one of the twins. You’re being very sharp, this morning, dear. I’m finding it quite upsetting.’

Gladys’s shoulders sagged. ‘Yes, I apologise, Elsie. I’m still cross with Mr Johnson, but that’s no reason to take it out on you. You’re right, it could be Punchy or Piquant. Although our man wasn’t wearing clogs. But he looked athletic, so he could be a high-wire clog dancer.’ She looked at the remaining names on her list. ‘That leaves Manny the Bendy Bunny and either of the clog dancing twins, Punchy and Piquant.’

‘What do we do now, Gladys?’

‘There’s only one thing for it…’

Elsie’s eyebrows rose in question.

‘We need to go out and buy tickets for the circus so we can find our man. Come on.’

‘Now? I’ve already had my exercise for the day.’

‘I think you’ll find, Elsie, that when they recommend Five a Day for your health, they’re not referring to five steps a day, they’re referring to portions of vegetables and fruit.’

‘Oh, hilarious, I’m sure.’

‘And if we go now to buy tickets, we can stop off on the way home at Le Bunnoir for tea and buns.’

‘Now you’re talking. Lead on.’

 

It had been a good idea to arrive at the circus box office early because they’d managed to buy ringside seats for that evening. Gladys got her pad out and sat with pen poised, making notes as each act performed.

It was strange how, despite the audience being seated all around the ring, the circus performers spent more time in front of Elsie and Gladys than anyone else.

The woman sitting next to Elsie leaned over and whispered. ‘I’m glad I sat next to you.’

‘You are?’

‘Of course. You’re obviously talent scouts and the acts all want to be scouted, so they’re performing just for you.’

 

‘Well, that was a very different evening,’ Gladys said as they set off home along Basilwade High Road. ‘Although we’re no closer to identifying our man. He wasn’t there.’

‘Manny the Bendy Bunny was quite a disappointment. He wasn’t even that bendy.’

‘I know what you mean. But it was interesting to see a human turnip.’

‘Hmm. Well, it was a lovely evening out, even if we failed to find our man. Although if you want a new career, Gladys, you could always become a talent scout. How many business cards do you have?’

‘Six from assorted clowns, three from various jugglers, two from bare-back riders, one from the human turnip, one from the lion tamer with her pride of ten lions and another from a high-wire clog dancer.’

‘Just the one clog dancer?’

‘Punchy said he’d had an artistic disagreement with his twin and wanted to branch out. Apparently, he also does a balancing act juggling chainsaws.’

Elsie sighed. ‘So much for Scrivener and Winterbottom. The intrepid sleuths have reached a dead end.’

‘Winterbottom and Scrivener. And we still have one avenue left open.’

‘We do?’

‘Certainly. I’m going round to see Mr Johnson, and I intend to get the information out of him, DNA or no DNA. Once I get a few Piña Coladas inside him, he’ll be spilling beans all over the place.’

‘That’s not a very wholesome image you’ve just conjured up there, Gladys. Piña Coladas and beans.’

‘But I’m determined it’ll work.’

‘Well, in that case, I ought to do my bit. I’ll visit Percy Pegwell and question him. Minnie is out tonight at her bridge club.’

After Elsie had left Gladys, she did a half-skip. After she’d seen Percy, she’d go home and finish her box of doughnuts. Sleuthing was demanding work, and she was famished. Then, perhaps she’d check out the business card one of the trapeze artists had pressed into her hand. He hadn’t been the man she and Gladys had been seeking, but it wouldn’t hurt to telephone him tomorrow anyway and have a chat. Perhaps they could meet up?

Elsie half-skipped again. Her social life was looking up.

 

 

If you’d like to read the previous stories you can find them here:

Glady’s Story is here - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2024/03/gladyss-neighbourhood-watch-by-dawn.html

Minnie’s Story is here - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2024/04/minnies-story-by-dawn-knox-milk-shake.html

Cyril’s Story is here - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2024/05/cyrils-story-by-dawn-knox-lashings-of.html

Daphne’s Story is here - https://www.cafelitmagazine.uk/2024/06/daphnes-story-by-dawn-knox-green.html

 

About the author 

Dawn’s three previous books in the ‘Chronicles Chronicles’ series are ‘The Basilwade Chronicles’, ‘The Macaroon Chronicles’ and 'The Crispin Chronicles' published by Chapeltown Publishing. 'The Post Box Topper Chronicles' is coming soon. 

You can follow her here on https://dawnknox.com 

on Twitter: https://twitter.com/SunriseCalls 

Amazon Author: http://mybook.to/DawnKnox 

Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the writers and half towards supporting the project (web site maintenance, preparing the next Best of book etc.)