Albert’s eyebrows took a hike to the top of his forehead, but he didn’t need to answer him because Alan was doing so.
‘Brian, these men are my personal guests, and you are not in charge this year,’ he insisted with forced politeness.
‘More’s the pity,’ he snapped without bothering to look Alan’s way. ‘Look at what has become of our beloved championships. It’s a shambles, Alan. The competition has become a spectacle and this awful world record attempt, well it’s just … it’s gawdy. That’s what it is.’ Then a sly grin stole across Brian’s face. ‘I shall enjoy it immensely when they fail though. What will the mayor think of that, Alan?’
Showing remarkable control, Alan asked, ‘What are you doing here anyway, Brian. There is nothing that needs your attention today.’
‘I came to see how badly the preparations for my precious championships were proceeding. I’m sorry to say things are far worse than I imagined they could be.’
‘Perhaps we should just go and come back tomorrow,’ suggested Gary, hoping he and his dad might slip away for a couple of pints and avoid the argument which appeared to be nearing eruption point.
Alan swung his head back around to pierce both men with a politician’s smile. ‘Nonsense, dear fellow. I plan to show you all the sights. Brian was just leaving after all. Weren’t you, Brian?’ His tone made sure the question sounded like an order, but it bounced off Brian like grease on Teflon.
‘Leaving? I think not. There’s far too much to be done. People are counting on me, even if the mayor was foolish enough to let you ruin things this year.’ Alan undoubtedly had a response on the tip of his tongue, but Brian was no longer listening. He was walking away, the cat’s head poking around the nape of his left elbow to give Rex a look of disgust. ‘And get that dog out of here,’ Brian commented as he walked away.
‘Visitors are encouraged to bring pets!’ Alan shouted at Brian’s back, his anger finally making it to the surface.
‘Not ones that big,’ Brian shouted over his shoulder without looking. ‘He’s smelly too. Fluffikins didn’t like him and that’s good enough for me.’ Brian vanished back inside the museum, disappearing from sight around a corner and shutting off any further chance to retort.
Gary and Albert were silent for a moment while their host gathered himself. ‘Goodness, that man is unpleasant,’ he told them after taking, holding, and exhaling a deep breath. ‘You know, I would not be surprised if he were here only to sabotage my efforts.’ Albert gave him a single raised eyebrow; he wasn’t sure what other response might be appropriate. He didn’t like Brian, but that was based only on Brian’s vocal opinion of Rex.
Rex nudged his human’s leg. ‘If they come back, can I eat the cat?’
Albert started down at Rex. The dog was trying to convey something, Albert was sure of it. ‘Something to do with the cat?’ he guessed.
Rex bounded up onto all four paws and wagged his tail. ‘Yes! Yes, that’s right, the cat. It has a terrible attitude and I should be allowed to teach it some manners. I’ll just bite off an inch or two of its tail. How about that?’
Albert scrunched up his face in concentration as he attempted in vain to decipher what the dog might be trying to tell him. ‘The cat offered you some kind of insult and now you wish to claim retribution.’
Rex twirled on the spot. ‘Oh, my goodness! You actually got it! Yes, let’s go get that cat!’
Alan clapped his hands together. ‘How about we put that unpleasant episode behind us, and I show you the preparations for tomorrow’s attempt to break the world record for the largest Yorkshire pudding? The chap from Guinness arrives in the morning.’ Alan was already striding away through the large marquee.
The marquee was light and airy, as they always are. It was also massive, stretching thirty metres across and at least a hundred metres in the other direction. Then they discovered there were yet more parts of it they could not see as there were equivalent sized marquees extending from each side at the far end where viewed from the air it would look like a giant tee. At the apex of the tee was a raised platform, which could be better described as a stage, Albert decided. It was devoid of any clutter or furniture, but a team of sound engineers were running cables and testing the public address system.
A large woman with unkempt hair and a ruddy complexion spotted Alan and rushed over to him. She held a clipboard in her left hand and pencil in her right. Overall, her appearance was that of someone with too many things to do and too little help.
‘Ah, Mr Crystal, I thought you would like to know that Mr Pumphrey has been in here helping out again.’ The way she said it removed any ambiguity over whether she thought his help was helpful or not.
‘I’ll have another word with him, Sarah, thank you. How are things going overwise?’ Alan asked.
She blew out a breath of exasperation. ‘Well, the gas engineers finally got the system operational, so that’s a big relief. They said something about being unable to equalise the pressure under the giant pan. Anyway, it’s working now, you’ll be pleased to hear. The sound engineers are almost finished, but we do have two no-shows on the stall holders. Maisy is trying to contact them now to see if they are still coming because we have plenty of others we turned down who can fill their spots.’
Alan exchanged a few words with Sarah, and she bustled away again, shouting
