As Grecondale returns to life after a long, quiet winter, the early May Bank Holiday finds discord amongst the inhabitants of Southsea Villa [a new but actually rather old property in its own, extensive grounds on the outskirts of Grecondale].

In the kitchen, Cook is in a tizzy.

“It’s no good, Theresa,” she says crossly, “this one simply can’t be overlooked. How the divil do That Lot expect us to haul this gurt thing about when it’s empty, let alone when it’s full?” she said sounding thoroughly anguished.

Theresa eyed the heavy brass and copper object before them. Cook had a point: the coal scuttle stood almost as tall as Cook herself and weighed more than the entire household staff put together. Grecons were well known for turning a blind eye to inappropriately sized furniture and accessories, but this was surely a step too far.

“Yes, it’s too bad,” agreed Dilys, who was standing on a stool carving a chicken – though that of itself was not something that any of them considered to be out of the ordinary.

“This whole house is beyond the pale,” she exclaimed.

“The way as I conquers my vertigo every mornin’ to feed yon bird is nothin’ short of a miracle,” she added, sounding as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

“Somethin’s got to be said, Theresa, and we’re in no position to say it so’s it’s got to be you, my girl.” said Cook.

“I agrees with Cook.” said Dilys, hopping down from her stool, “You’ll ‘ave to ‘av a word, Theresa, there’s nothing else to be done.”

“Ladies, you’re right” said Theresa nodding firmly, “This is a scale-creep too far. I’ll have a word with Madam today.” And with one last, irritated look at the offending object, she left the kitchen to press on with her long list of mid-morning tasks.

“Shall we ‘ave ourselves a nice cup o’ hot chocolate to cheer us up,” said Cook when Theresa was gone.

Dilys looked at the chocolate pot. “Hows about a nice cup o’ tea instead,” she said.

Marilyn was asleep in bed when Theresa arrived at the top of the house and swished open the bedroom curtains, letting the morning sunshine spill into the room.

“Nooo! Theresa, my eyes!” said Marilyn grumpily, as she did every morning.

Theresa didn’t know why they went through the ritual of waking her up and pretending that she would get dressed each day; the girl never did.

Marilyn clambered out of bed and made it to the dressing table.

“Gosh I’m beautiful aren’t I, Theresa.” she said, more a statement than a question, as she eyed herself appraisingly in the mirror.

But Theresa was too busy to idle around “feeding That One’s ego” and was long gone.

“Well, yes you are darling,” Marilyn assured her glamorous reflection, “and do you know why?” she asked the attentive vision before her, “Beauty sleep!” she said with a tinkling laugh.

And with that, she climbed back into bed and settled down for a quick forty winks. Maybe she would get dressed and go somewhere exciting tomorrow, she thought sleepily. Then again, it was very nice here in the bedroom, she reminded herself as she snuggled down further into the warmth of the bed.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Lesley was getting it in the neck from Great Aunt Maud, who spent far too much time sharing her opinions and not enough time minding her own business as far as Lesley was concerned.

” What on earth are you wearing, girl!” Maud exclaimed as she entered the parlour with her sister Monica to say goodbye before heading off to meet up with their chums.

“The same dress I always wear, Aunt” sighed Lesley, sensing an impending lecture.

“Well it might have been long enough once upon a time but it isn’t now. It’s quite unseemly to be flaunting your knees in such a manner, quite unseemly.” pronounced Maud.

“Quite so,” agreed Eustacia, another of the frumpy old biddies who seemed haunt the place.

Lesley looked around for Great Aunt Flinty who was usually to be counted on as an ally amongst the grownups. But outnumbered, she was busying herself with Tilly the spaniel and pretending not to have heard.

“I imagine that Monica’s dress is just as bad under that coat,” chipped in sour-faced Aunt Margaret.

“Now look here you rotten old..” started fiery Monica who was certainly not one to hold her tongue, but she was swiftly interrupted by her mother.

Ever the diplomat, Annabelle leapt in, “Won’t you two girls be late if you don’t get a wriggle on? Just pop upstairs and change into your navy pinafores before you leave though, my dears.”

Lesley and Monica stormed from the room furiously, just as Theresa was entering to clear away the tea tray.

“What would a frightful old spinster like her know about nice clothes anyway,” Monica was clearly heard by all in the room to say to Lesley before the door was fully closed.

“Well of all the Ill-mannered…” started Maud, looking apoplectic.

“I’m so sorry, my dear aunt, they’re young and inconsiderate, you must take no notice. Come and have a seat,” said Annabelle looking very flustered.

Theresa decided she would talk to Madam about the scale-creep tomorrow. Today didn’t really seem like a good day.

Out in the hallway, Monica was still fuming.

“Let’s run away!” she said angrily, “We’ll leave these stupid old fuddy-duddies behind and never have to listen to their silly opinions ever again!” she exclaimed.

“Oh yes,” said Lesley, who always went along with Monica’s plans, even if they often didn’t actually come to anything. “But remember last time when we had to come back for dinner because we didn’t have any money?” Lesley reminded her.

“We’ll do it properly this time. We’ll pack a bag. And food. And get jobs. They’ll be frightfully sorry they were so horrid to us when we’re gone, I’m sure of it!” she said, undaunted by the memory of their last, failed plan to run away – or indeed by memories of any of their previous failed plans to run away.

“But we’re still going into town to meet up with the others first though, aren’t we?” Lesley asked tentatively.

“Oh yes, we’ll do that first and then run away,” said Monica brightly.

Simultaneously, in the smoking room, the gentlemen of the house stood warming their hands around the fire, congenially exchanging snippets of information and generally passing the time of day.

Each of them was secretly wondering just how long it would be before they would have to rejoin the ladies and the peace and tranquility of their Bank Holiday would come to and end.

THE END

© 2019, Zoe. All rights reserved.