The Sharma’s shop-to-let was still vacant.
‘I wonder who’ll take that,’ Amanda said to the inspector.
‘No one’s had much luck with it so far,’ he remarked. He braked at the sight of a stop sign. It was being brandished enthusiastically by a lady of some eighty-odd summers who came to the window. Trelawney opened it.
‘Hello, Sylvia,’ Amanda called across the inspector.
‘’Ello, you two strangers. You been gone a while, ’avent you! All right, are you?’
Amanda nodded.
‘Yes, thank you, Sylvia,’ Trelawney answered indulgently. ‘But you do know that stop sign is really just to be used to halt the traffic for the school children to cro—’
‘Perk of the job, Inspector, perk of the job. Mr Branscombe is startin’ on your new residence, next Tuesday, you know.’
‘Oh, Tuesday is it?’ asked Amanda.
‘That’s right, dearies. Well, I expect you’ll be wantin’ to get home and put the kettle on. See you soon!’
With that, she was off in the direction of the Snout and Trough. No doubt, to deliver the news that Amanda and her inspector had returned.
As they passed the chemist, Mr Sharma happened to look up and nodded a greeting. Amanda waved back enthusiastically.
‘Mwrrorrrl!’ came the demand from the back seat.
‘Oh, can’t you wait for cream until tomorrow, Tempest?’
Trelawney observed the citrine glare in his rearview mirror.
‘Apparently not,’ he commented drily. Amanda groaned. ‘It’s all right, Miss Cadabra, I can hover here if you aren't long.’
‘Thank you, Inspector.’
Tempest heaved his furry bulk off the back seat. I’d better go with her, he thought. She’s bound to get the wrong one if I don’t. Humans, he sighed. They were like children; they needed constant supervision.
The shop door dinged as Amanda entered.
‘There she is!’ cried Joan the post-lady, enfolding her in a loving hug. Amanda held her tightly for a moment, glad beyond her imagining to be back amongst her neighbours. ‘Where is he? Your inspector?’ Beloved, in spite of their irritating matchmaking proclivities.
‘Hello, stranger,’ Mr Hanley-Page greeted her jubilantly. ‘The return of the native.’
Mrs Sharma sailed out of the rear of the shop with a packet for him.
‘Here you are, Dennis. Don’t smoke them all at once.’
‘Oh, my Cubans! Bless you, Nalini. Your inspector not with you?’ he asked Amanda.
‘He’s not my — He’s waiting in the car outside. Hello Aunty.’
‘Hello, dear,’ replied Mrs Sharma, fondly. Mrs Sharma senior had babysat for the little Amanda, and the families had grown close. ‘Cream for the Raj, I expect,’ she anticipated. Nalini handed a small luxury treat over the counter. Amanda laid it at the expectant Tempest’s feet. He and Mrs Sharma exchanged their customary glances of mutual recognition that Amanda still had yet to fathom.
‘You’ve missed all the news!’ Joan exclaimed.
‘Have I?’ responded Amanda, hoping she was to be spared the almost inevitable onslaught of gossip.
‘There’s going to be a new teacher at the school,’ Dennis told her.
‘John was in here the other day asking after you!’ Joan informed her with a wink.
‘His book’s doing well,’ chimed in Dennis.
‘And you'll never guess: Gordon French has put in for planning permission!’ Joan pronounced with a significance that was lost on Amanda. However, some response was clearly expected, so she fell back on a stock favourite:
‘That’s nice.’
Ding!
‘There you are, dearie. I thought you might pop in ’ere for ’is lordship, so I turned back,’ explained Sylvia, propping up her lollipop-shaped stop sign behind the shop door. She greeted the other three occupants of the small space, then drew breath long enough for Dennis to offer another piece of information:
‘There’s been an offer to rent the shop.’
Joan looked doubtful.
‘But it’s a chain: Priti’s Paws Pet Parlour.’
‘Erm,’ responded Amanda hesitantly, ‘I thought they only have one establishment over in Stror.’
‘It’s the thin end of the wedge, dearie,’ put in Sylvia. ‘Next thing you know, you’ve got a drive-in Macdonald’s on your doorstep!’
‘Joan, I really don’t think theirs is a village sort of setup,’ Amanda demurred.
‘Here you are, Amanda.’ Mrs Sharma handed her the pot of cream. ‘I put some by in the fridge as soon as I knew you were coming back today.’
‘Thank you, Aunty, er ... how did you ...?’
‘Your Aunt Amelia popped in, after going to put the heating on in your cottage. It’s been standing empty for several days so best to take the chill off.’
‘That’s very kind of her.’
‘Oh, and you’d better throw out that open packet of ham before it walks out, she said to tell you,’ relayed Mrs Sharma.
‘Ah ... does the entire village know the contents of my fridge?’ Amanda enquired, already suspecting what the answer would be.
‘Of course not, dear,’ Nalini replied comfortably, ‘just the people who were in here at the time.’
That would be a ‘yes’ then, thought Amanda.
‘And you’ll be getting another insurance job from Irma,’ Joan informed her. Mrs Uberhausfest’s party-planning for the over-70s business was a regular customer of Amanda’s furniture restoration business.
‘Oh, dear. Not stiletto dents on the grand piano again?’ Amanda asked anxiously.
‘No love, it’s the chandelier again this time.’
‘Yes, it was a rather hoot —’ began Dennis, who’d been there.
‘That’s all right, Mr Hanley-Page,’ Amanda interjected with feeling. ‘I’m sure I can imagine. I’m afraid I really must be getting back.’
‘Oh course, my dear.’
Having paid for Tempest’s requirements and being told once again that Mr Branscombe was starting on the inspector’s new flat and office on Tuesday, she exited into the street. Amanda almost bumped into Sunken Madley’s oldest
