They Made Their Mark: Chapter 9

Fatty added a wedge of Stilton to another cracker, refreshed the coffee, and sat back in his chair.

"As you know there was a small write-up in the local rag, sorry – The Gazette, after we put Twit to rest and then there was no more wide publicity due to the fact that our parents, unbeknownst to us, held a little conference. You're sure about unbeknownst, Larry? I thought it was unbeknown!"

Larry grinned. "Either will suffice Fatty, now do get on with it because I'm bursting with curiosity and you're just spinning things out to make me suffer. Right?"

"Fatty laughed."Right! O.K! As you know, our parents weren't too happy with us ferreting amongst the criminal element. We didn't give it a thought of course but our Mummies and Daddies reviewed the Find-Outer history and the potentially dangerous circumstances which we had skirted and then they contacted your P.R. people in Birmingham. The result was a promise that we would not feature in any more front-page write-ups of the type generally accorded to heroes such as us. Sure, there were a few columns that mentioned our ongoing deeds but they were lost somewhere inside the paper as you know, and worded in a way that wouldn't shout our names to the world."

Larry sat up in his chair. "Now, why didn't I think of that?"

"Simple! Our previous mysteries had been fairly localized but once we began taking on international criminals the ball-game changed considerably. Larry, make no bones whatsoever about the danger we were in when we tangled with the Tetaruans. They were professionals in every sense. They had Tallery in their pay and also had relatives living in England near Raylingham who took part in an operation that had to succeed if they wanted to hold absolute power in Tetarua. Criminals in that position will let nothing stand in their way and if someone – even a child – has to be eliminated then it will take place with as little regret as one would slap a mosquito. Money drove it naturally and there were several millions that had already gone into it. That helicopter they used wasn't hired or anything – it had been bought especially for the job. The Super explained a few facts and, believe me; I started sweating when I learnt how ruthless those men were compared to the Peterswood mob which included people like Hick and an assortment of pantomime players. The fact that we somehow managed to extricate ourselves from the very middle of a project being handled by the 'elite' was what prompted a further assurance by the police to our parents that anything we did in future would be kept right out of the limelight. They knew by then of course that we were so much into mystery-solving it'd be useless trying to convince us to cease but there was always the thought that we were hardly likely to come across another because mysteries don't come to order each holiday period, do they?"

"Well, Fatty, I'd tend to believe that but in our case, they did."

"Yeah, I wonder why," asked Fatty? I guess either we attract them or else the urge to have one makes us search them out with intensity. The fellows at college used to button-hole me and plead to belong to the Find-Outers. Did that happen to you?"

"Indeed! You know, one of the chaps offered me money as a kind of subscription to our group and was very disappointed when I said that I couldn't accept it because we were the 'Five' and not the 'Six.' Then, when he became insistent I adopted a vague stance and told him that if he wanted to pursue it further he'd have to work through our leader and as he didn't know you from Adam it put him in a kind of blank-wall position. So... we were relegated to obscurity and now its all clear but tell us about Jenks. Do you visit him? Is he married?"

Fatty looked at his watch. "I'll tell you about the Super and then we'd better get back to the office. Yes, I come into contact with him occasionally at the odd social or perhaps when he has a few friends to tea. He and his... his... partner, for want of a better word, are great hosts. We never thought of his home life in the early days did we Larry? To us he was married and living somewhere around Peterswood like all the other adults we knew."

"He finally married?"

"No! Jenksy's... ummmm... Modern!"

"Meaning?"

"Well, the world has moved on a little since our younger days, Larry, and he's followed the trend."

"You mean... you mean?"

"Exactly!"

Larry let out a whistle. "Well, well, well, well, well!"

"You know about these things but you don't approve?"

"Hey, Fatty – you're ahead of yourself. I've been around and I've probably come up against this more times than you have. When you rub shoulders with people in the forces from all round the world, you learn... and then you learn some more. I have no qualms whatsoever! The Yanks are well into it and some of those Scandinavian types could show us innocent Peterswoodians a thing or two."

"Yes, Larry, you're right, although the inhabitants of innocent Peterswood aren't all square-dancing in the Ozarks as far as relationships go. They get together at times and I know of several people who're Living in Sin as it's called! Incidentally Larry, I know the Super wouldn't mind in the least me telling you this because he trusts my judgment and I trust you."

"Absolutely, Fatty." Larry looked earnest, "No worries there... and you know, when I think about it, I can easily see the Super as a Modern Man. I really can because I've always looked upon him as a little apart from the run-of-the-mill police officer. I wonder if some of the more important law-enforcers tend to bypass marriage because of the inherent danger and total commitment to their jobs. I mean... there's..."

"J. Edgar?"

"Gosh, you're sharp! Right on the button. Hoover's never married yet you'd think he'd be right in the firing line with all the glamour and excitement and the worldwide travel opportunities that the F.B.I. offers."

"Yeah, well... like many others maybe he just isn't the marrying kind?"

"I don't know. How do you know? You haven't met him have you, Fatty?"

"Never have, Larry but rumours circulate although to be fair to him, it might be the Cosa Nostra or even the Russians who like to spread libellous stuff around for their own gain. Nevertheless, I still don't think he's the marryin' kind but that's a long way from the Chief. I think our man may get round to it."

"What's she like?"

"A lovely woman, Larry. She has an extremely warm nature and she's easy to talk to because she gets onto your wave-length right from the start. Five foot, seven or thereabouts, brown-eyed brunette with medium-length hair, a very slight Mediterranean influence in her skin colour, high cheek-bones, quite dark eyebrows, dimple on her lower left cheek – that's if you want a detective's description of her. Another thing – her manners are impeccable and when you meet her you'll see what I mean."

"Say no more. I believe you, Fatty and I'll look forward to making her acquaintance. Tell me, what's the Super's name? After all these years I still don't it although I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to find out – in fact, it's probably common knowledge at the Gazette."

"Go on – guess!"

"Let's see now – Doug? Michael? Tom, Dick, Harry?"

"No, no, no, no and no!"

"The Chief's name... the Super's name. How about Anthony? Greg? Nope! I could go on all day – what is it?"

"Jim!"

"Jim, eh? Super Jim?"

"It's Jim!"

"James!"

"No, Jim. James-Jenks is a mouthful so he rarely uses that combination. In actuality it's Jim, David, or Dave as he often likes to call himself, Stephen Jenks and there's a tale behind Jim."

"Tell me!"

Fatty explained, "His aunt on his mother's side had a son and a daughter. The boy was named James but they always called him Jim as often happens. Unfortunately the poor kid contracted infantile paralysis when he was two and there were lung complications which he didn't survive. You can imagine the heartbreak and the shock that was brought upon the poor family and in an effort to supply a little solace to her grieving sister, Jenksy's mother told her that if she herself ever had a son she would name him Jim, not James, after the little boy as a gesture to the dearly departed infant. So, when the Super was born he was christened Jim. His mother, who was a little old-fashioned in her own way, made up for the lapse by bestowing two extra names instead of one, and leaving it at that."

Larry looked doubtful. "Are you saying that he's officially Jim?"

"Officially – yes. Next time you're in The Strand pop into Somerset House and check it out, but as I said, Jenksy's modern. He's cool! He uses his names according to how he feels which I think reflects a little of his opposition to the rule of formality. He lives his life as a free entity and Officialdom which regulates everyone in his line of work, can take second place as far as he's concerned. I've received a couple of letters from him and one was signed Jim and on the other it was Dave so they're completely interchangeable. On official statements it's usually Stephen Jenks, and when he draws up Diplomatic documents he signs himself Jenksy!"

"The last one's garbage and you know it!"

"Naturally! No, I guess he might use all his names on one of those or perhaps Stephen. He has a fairly high profile and is referred to accordingly. Even to us he's Jenksy, The Chief, The Super and The Inspector but I don't think we've ever called him Mr. Jenks which he is of course."

"The modern man. I see you're getting a little that way yourself, Fatty. I've heard the Yanks using the word 'cool' in the context that you did when they describe someone who's perhaps worthy of imitation."

Fatty took another biscuit and cocked an eye at Larry. "How about me? Am I cool?"

"Won't answer that! Thanks for putting me in the know but I think I'd better call our former boss Superintendent ... no I won't because he isn't one now. What shall I use when we meet up because I wouldn't like to appear too familiar? What do you use, Fatty?"

"Jim! Sometimes Dave – just depends. Just prefix him with Superintendent and I'm sure he'll put you right. Remember Larry, we're all adults now and, by the way, how did we get into all this?"

"It was... it was... can't remember. I think it was Bongawah. You know Fatty, I wonder what would happen if we wrote to the Prince and said we were visiting Tetarua. Do you think he'd have us at the castle?"

Fatty looked amused and considered the question. "I wonder! I think it'd be marvelous if we went over there and were put up at a palace if he has one. We could dine out on it for years but when you think about it we had only the briefest contact with the lad and you yourself had more of a chance to quiz him at the time seeing I was wandering round looking for some way out of the mess we were in."

Larry folded his serviette and put it to one side. "His English was excellent but we didn't have time to get to know him either because he was whisked away by the police – it all happened so quickly after you got through to the Chief and you know, although the Prince was round Pip's age, he seemed much younger."

Fatty stretched himself. "Yeah! He didn't seem all that clued up but he was probably dazed by all the things that were happening to him, poor kid. If we'd gotten to know him for a bit longer you never know, he might have welcomed us into his mansion or castle if we ever visited but, unfortunately it may have been too fleeting a meeting."

"Too fleeting a meeting!" Yes, still you'll have to ask the Chief if he knows what's happened to him – I've suddenly become very curious as to whether the little boy became Ruler."

"I'll quiz him about it."

"We have some pretty high-class connections don't we? Fatty, would you like another coffee before we go because I wouldn't mind having one now and also another name or two have come up that remind me of afternoon teas. I had a look at some of our old haunts when I arrived back in Peterswood and I went past Pips' house. Does Candling ring a bell?"

"It rings a door-chime featuring an excerpt from Elgar's Cockaigne Overture. O.K. More coffee it is." Fatty signaled to a waitress through the door and when she approached with her pad he requested another pot and an extra cup.

"You were saying Larry?"

"Candling! I looked her up in the directory and it looks as if she may not be in the best of health. I noticed she had a number that belongs to a Home for the Aged; at least I think that's where she may be residing."

"She's in a Home and she isn't In A Home seeing you put it like that," was Fatty's cryptic answer. "Candling has folded her tent and it was only to be expected because she'd been growing old gracefully in her rambling house for over a decade and found the upkeep of such a large residence was uneconomical so alternative accommodation was sought."

"We never saw her husband did we?"

"No, and it's not surprising," said Fatty. "She was married to a Lord Waddington and he contracted a spinal disease that led to his passing near the end of the war. When he died she reverted to her maiden name for some legal reason to facilitate the handling of her inheritance. Waddington had a short-term position in Barbados as chief bottle-washer and it may well have been the conditions in those parts that caused his malaise."

"Any children?"

"Yes. They had a daughter who gained two Honours at Manchester University which she used to obtain a position as Vice Principal at the largest school on the island of Tortola."

"Tortola, eh?"

"Bet you don't know where that is, Larry."

"You'd lose. Remember, you're talking to the R.A.F."

"That's a point. OK. Where is it?"

"That's the ummmmm... the Caribbean. British Virgin Islands, I would say?"

"Correct. Been there, I suppose."

"No. I haven't, Fatty but I've passed the airspace. Where's the daughter now?"

"Back in the Home country and as for Lady Candling... she returned to Britain to mourn her husband's passing and then left the family estate and took the house next door to the Hiltons that'd been empty for a while and she naturally took in a companion."

"Trimble!"

"Yes. Trimble worked at the library and they got to know each other at some committee meeting. They got on well together but not as equals because Trimble wasn't worldly but she was very educated – apparently she read Kant which means she was a good stimulant for chat, an excellent listener, and quite happy to live in as a companion-help. She craved a degree of security and she found it with the Lady."

"How did you find all this out, Fatty?"

"General chatter mainly but my kind of work is rife with background information about the locals and it makes me realise how much Goon must have known about everyone considering the snippets of information that are available and which can be used to advantage – especially by someone with a few brains!"

"Yeah! Tell me, what's Trimble's name?"

"Alice!"

"Alice eh? Yes, I approve of that. Very nice. Very suitable for her vintage."

"...and if you didn't approve?"

"She'd have to change it! OK so Candling had Trimble and Trimble had Candling."

"Yes but Candling needed to pull up her roots and being the very organized person that she is, she knew exactly where she was going. As you say Larry, she seems to be in a Home – and that's correct because she'd retained a half interest in that lovely old house in Rectory Road."

"Wycombe?"

"That's right. The Good Lady wanted somewhere grand but at the same time she needed a little extra income, so she bought up her partner's interest and converted the place with its landscaped grounds and accompanying history – it must be getting on to the century mark, into a high-class home for the elderly."

"What happened to her partner?" asked Larry.

Fatty thought for a moment. "She was older than Myra and as far as I can remember she wanted to purchase a little homestead as a base and then do some travelling."

"Myra? That's Candling?"

"Yeah, sorry I keep forgetting that you're the new boy in town."

"Quaint! Did she tell you?"

Fatty looked at Larry with a grin on his face. "Yes, I know her socially."

Larry gaped at him. "O.K. Snob! Is that for real?"

"It is actually, Larry. No snobbery... after all I was a Find-Outer who once helped to root out a nasty character in whom she had placed her trust plus, in my investigative role, we've rubbed shoulders a few times. You'd probably have been on a first-name basis with her as well if you'd hung around and, incidentally, when you do get to know her again, you'll find that she's an extremely accommodating person once you've pierced the veil of nobility. Titled people can sometimes be described as a little Nose-in-the-Air but not Myra Candling because she's more up-to-date than the majority of her counterparts some of whom have liveried servants."

"Do they really? You mean knickerbockers and gold-lame jackets and stuff?"

"That sort of thing."

A different waitress from the one who'd taken the order appeared. Like he had with the other waitresses, Caffarelli had chosen her for the customers who appreciated being served with daintiness and efficiency. This girl, who was dressed in the standard Rendezvous print frock and apron, was particularly petite and attractive. She placed a carafe of rich-smelling coffee on the table whereupon Fatty rose and, with a flourish, kissed her on the cheek.

He pointed to Larry. "Frances, meet Larry."

Larry got up and extended a hand. "Pleased to meet you. Am I supposed to kiss you as well?"

The waitress laughed and touched her cheek. "Freddie... Mr. Trotteville and I are old friends."

"Larry, remember Harris's the grocery?" asked Fatty.

"Of course," said Larry. "I passed the establishment yesterday... expanded considerably I noticed."

"Frances is the daughter of Shirley."

Larry gave him a questioning look. "Shirley! Do I know a Shirley?"

Fatty smiled. "Remember who delivered the groceries back when we were teenagers?"

Larry thought for a moment and then realized what Fatty meant. He looked at the waitress, "I remember the delivery girl although I didn't know her name. So it was your mother who drove that yellow van around? Well, well, well! How old would you have been?"

Frances pondered the question with upturned face. "I must have been about ten or eleven I think and, incidentally, I'm so pleased to meet you, Larry if I may call you that. I remember your name from back when the Find-Outers were discussed around the table whenever the paper reported your latest mystery. I longed and longed to meet you all but I wasn't even allowed out on the street until I was twelve and I didn't live anywhere near your part of the village."

Larry smiled at her warmly. "I'm honoured. Next time we meet may I kiss you too?"

The girl blushed and then answered with spirit. "You two can fight over me!"

Larry laughed. "Golly, I remember now – my sister told us she interviewed your mother when we were on a case. Which one, Fatty? No, don't tell me – it was... it was when we were chasing down the baker man. Right?"

"Right!" said Fatty. He addressed Frances. "Don't mind Larry's lack of respect – he's using an approved nickname."

Frances laughed. "I was just going to say..." She picked up the tray and departed with a wave.

"Another nice girl. Peterswood's full of them." Larry remarked.

Fatty poured out coffee for both of them and sat back.

"We were always rather scared of her... afraid of saying the wrong thing or not being clean enough when we visited."

"Who?" asked Larry with a puzzled look? "Oh, you mean Candling? Yes you're right. She had that regal look about her and it made me feel as if I was approaching the Queen or some Very High Up Person!"

"I'll also tell you about Trimble Larry, you'll be amazed."

"No I won't," Larry assured him. "After what you've already told me today, nothing could amaze me!"

Fatty knew better and he gave his friend a wicked look, "You will be amazed, I guarantee it! As I said, Candling bought out her partner's share and then moved from the Hiltons' vicinity into her new surroundings."

"So she wasn't unwell or anything?"

"No, no, far from it. You've been past the place?"

"Yes I have. Wasn't the owner a Colonel Someone or other?"

"Yes, Larry – with a string of letters which included a D.S.O. He had connections with a medical trust which was of some help when Candling moved in with her plans which had to include nursing facilities of course. The multi-titled Colonel and family were shifting out of Chilworth and, as it happened, on the second floor was a suite. At one stage in its life round the late Forties I think, half of the floor was turned into a very up-class living area for family visitors so when Candling bought out her partner and became sole owner she took over the suite. She had the rest of the house converted and now she's living in style... residing in beautiful surroundings with all facilities – 24 hour room-service for food or anything she wants and health care thrown in. She's also earning a considerable amount of money because it's a very high-class establishment."

Fatty enjoyed having such an interested audience. Larry was leaning forward and drinking in all the information not only to quench his thirst for background information but also to enhance the local knowledge he needed for his work. "So the Colonel's out and Candling's in. Yes, I remember the Colonel. I think he had offices in Priory Road if I'm not mistaken."

"That's right," said Fatty. "Surgical rooms."

"So, that's Lady Candling all taken care of," said Larry. Another fascinating item from the chap with his ear to the ground – any more surprises from that quarter, Fatty?"

"I'll say! You haven't heard the half of it."

"Thrill me!"

"Earlier on I said that you wouldn't believe me."

"Yes I will!"

"No you won't. Remember it was hard enough to convince you about Ernie the Lad."

"Yes, but be fair, Fatty – that was Out of This World, or at least it was initially. I'll believe you this time – guaranteed!"

"Guaranteed?"

"Absolutely!"

"Miss Trimble got married!"

"Rubbish!"

* * *

Fatty looked at Larry in delight. "I knew you'd say that."

"Of course you did. O.K., what is it. What's going to thrill me?

"I've told you."

"Fatty, I still believe you're a truthful person except when joshing or playing a trick on some unsuspecting stooge – right? Now you've just told me that Trimble got married. Trimble? Do you realize what you've said? You've gotten mixed up with that kennel girl... Harmer wasn't it? What's happened to her?"

Fatty enjoyed watching Larry's disbelief. "I'll fill you in on Harmer but what do I have to do to convince you that Trimble is living a life of wedded bliss? She really did get married and I'll tell you about it."

"Fatty! You tell me about it and I'll listen until I can take something like that in. What an extraordinary day this is... I feel as if I'm inside a spin-dryer and I think I'll need all of tomorrow to recover. Now, I've just had a thought!"

"What?" asked Fatty.

"I'm doing exactly what I did when you told me about Ern and after all, why shouldn't Trimble marry? She's entitled to."

"Exactly," answered Fatty. "Cast your mind back Larry and tell me – what did you think of Trimble's marriage status when we first met her?"

"Well, thinking about it now I suppose we all nursed the vague idea that she had a husband somewhere. I think kids always assume adults are married per se don't they?"

"Yes!" said Fatty. "Our parents were all married naturally and their friends always seemed to be and the people next door and down the road. Even Candling! I'm sure we all thought she had a husband somewhere around and Miss Trimble for that matter. I don't think we even gave her 'Miss' status a thought."

Larry considered. "Trimble could have arrived each day to be Candling's companion and returned home in the evenings when we'd gone to bed or even slept in and gone back to her family for the weekends."

"Absolutely," replied Fatty. "What about her character? Describe it."

Larry sipped his coffee and pondered the question. "Well... shy, retiring. She gave me the impression of an elderly lady who had attended a convent school, worked all her life behind the counter in the local library, sat on committees in a minor role perhaps as a secretary. You know... the Old Maid/Spinster woman who missed out on a real life. What do you reckon?"

"Good summary," answered Fatty. "Basically, though, we didn't really give it much thought at all because it was out of our sphere was it not, BUT... between you and me and the gate-post, Miss Trimble was a bit of a goer!"

"A goer?"

"A bit of a goer and by that I mean... well, she liked male company and on a one to one basis she was actually a very good conversationalist and provided she could get over her natural shyness and feelings of inadequacy she could hold her own because of her educational background."

"Go on Sigmund!"

"Tupping, that gardener they had over there, scared the hell out of her but as far as gentlemen were concerned she was more or less in her element and, believe me Larry, when I tell you that she stepped out every now and again."

"Goodness! Oopsy, there I go again. You know Fatty, I'll have to rein myself in, and let me tell you – I'm prepared to believe every word you say. Why shouldn't Trimble enjoy her life? Why are we being so negative about her or at least I am but it's just that I keep seeing her through eyes way back in the past. I think it's marvelous, but now tell me the intimate details."

"Well," said Fatty. "Trimble is one of the Faithful and she attended church regularly."

"I can believe that."

"Yes, she was a fervent supporter of the congregation and helped a lot behind the scenes with the song-books and hymn choices and the morning teas and so on and then one day there was a Sunday School outing. At least it wasn't so much the Sunday School but a general church picnic by the river and it was there that she got to rub shoulders with a new parishioner – Sam Beeton."

"Sam Beeton!"

"That's the one. He'd only just joined the church having come to live around these parts after a failed marriage. He's semi-retired and as he has a brother living just outside of Peterswood, he decided to pull up his roots and move within nodding distance of at least one of his kinfolk."

"Where's he from."

"Yorkshire... the fields of Winteringham."

"What's he like?"

"Larry, picture a slightly younger version of Mr. Buffin – the ruddy-faced burly squire in his check waistcoat with the watch on the chain, the tweed jacket the briar pipe and the crooked stick. Actually he looks a typical Yorkshire farmer but he's not – he deals in farm machinery or he did, but now he fills in his time advising farmers on the proper implements and where to get them and so on. He's in his early fifties and very outgoing which you might think would make him a little unsuitable for Trimble but not so. It was an attraction of opposites and you wouldn't believe how the union has affected her. As a professional, describe our Miss Trimble in two words as you knew her, Larry."

"Two words... Shrinking Violet?"

"Top of the Class! Well, she's altered – she's more settled of course and she's also a tad more outgoing. It's really only a subtle difference but definitely noticeable. There they were at this picnic and they met up and it appears she was just what the doctor ordered for old man Beeton who's rather voluble but in a gentlemanly fashion. He needed someone to take an interest in him for himself and to counteract his habit of searching for attention. Trimble gave him that and in return he gained access to a limitless pool of knowledge which included art, poetry, and even philosophy – all spilling out from Trimble's bottled-up world which she had endured into her early thirties. She had always been able to express herself adequately to her former employer but not in the way that two people in love can. It turned out to be a perfect match and they haven't looked back! How's your coffee?"

Larry started at the question. He passed his cup over for Fatty to fill. He'd been thoroughly absorbed in Fatty's narrative and found himself pleased to think that the vague and retiring Miss Trimble had taken a path that had led to happiness. He felt a strong desire to see her again.

"Where are they, Fatty?"

"New Road – near the end. He wanted a bit of land and she seemed agreeable to the prospect of churning a little cream."

"Smarvellous! Can you tell me anything about the wedding?"

"I was there!"

Larry regarded him. "Were you now? Yes, I suppose you would get an invitation."

"The marriage came at the right moment of course because Myra Candling was off to her new surroundings."

"Where was it held?"

"Well, Sam's brother is on the committee that runs the Thistle Hall and at first they thought of holding it there but in the end, as it was to be a smallish gathering, they thought it'd be better to hold it at his house. They did most of the arranging themselves and everything went off very well indeed. The guests were basically Miss Trimble's church friends, and a sister – she has a sister, and a couple of her cousins, and one or two of Beeton's, and three of his brothers and their families."

"What's her sister like?"

"Trimble's? She's older and looks like a more mature version but not so spindly. She's been married for some years and her husband accompanied her. He's a lanky, graying round the temples, rather short-sighted, chartered accountant."

Larry helped himself to a biscuit and some cheese. "Thanks for the human interest. Has Trimble still got her lorgnettes? No they weren't lorgnettes... those glasses on a chain. Pince-nez I think."

"Yes, Larry, she still prefers those. Oh... Lady Candling attended of course."

"Well now. How did that go down?"

"She caused a bit of a flutter when she announced her intention because it immediately gave the wedding a High Society stamp and naturally attracted interest from the locals. A reporter and photographer came from your paper so if you review the files you can see Lady Candling and retinue in their element."

"A retinue?"

"Well actually she just brought her secretary and an executive from the home as in Rest-Home where she is now, and also a woman connected with some charity who happened to be with her at the time."

"So it went off well?"

"Yes, everyone enjoyed themselves and Lady Candling very generously footed the bill for part of the feast – the more exotic stuff. She wandered around greeting people in her very charming way but she didn't take-over as important people sometimes do. She deferred to the newly-weds and gave a very nice speech."

"How about you, Fatty? I can see you standing up to say a few words."

"No! Fortunately I wasn't called upon so I was able to sit there and stuff myself with ham and chicken, and asparagus and oysters wrapped in strips of bacon. I became very friendly with the waitresses."

"Honeymoon?"

"They went to Belgium for a week and were put up by another brother of Sam's who lives there. He seems to have family all over the place including a considerably older one in Cheshire but he wasn't able to attend the wedding."

Larry stacked a couple of plates. "Well, I'm very happy for them. You know Fatty, Trimble... Mrs. Beeton could author a cookbook and reap the profits."

"You're right – Mrs. Beeton's Cookbook New Edition. It might sell very well indeed and here's a coincidence for you – the real Mrs. Beeton's husband was also a Sam."

"Was he really?"

"Yep. The New Edition could claim a degree of authenticity."

"Indeed it could. I don't suppose the real Mrs. Beeton was Alice?"

"No! I think... I've a feeling she was an Ida or Isabella or something."

"I'll have to renew my acquaintance with Miss... Mrs. Trimble... Mrs. Beeton."

Fatty glanced at the bill which had been left on the table. "Yeah, you must Larry. We could drop over one day. She loves holding intimate afternoon teas with close friends although she's always more relaxed when Sam's there."

"Great! So that's Lady Candling and Trimble all sorted out and facing new challenges but what about all the cats and Miss Harmer? What happened to them and her?"

Fatty got up. "Larry, we'd better be off so that somebody else can don a feed-bag. There are still a few people looking for tables in case you haven't noticed and Eddie needs to fit them in somewhere."

They moved out of the side room into the main part of the restaurant and Fatty paid the bill at the cash-desk telling Larry that as it was a Find-Outer reunion of sorts, he wanted to keep with tradition." Larry thanked him warmly.

"See ya, Eddie!" Fatty gave a cheery wave to the friendly owner as he emerged from the kitchen at that moment with a waitress. Looking up he smiled broadly at the two lads and gave them a cheery wink and a wave.

"Au Revoir, Freddie. Bring your good friend back again and I'll join you for a Cognac. Bye, bye, Mr. Daykin!" He turned back to the waitress and Larry saw that it was Frances. She smiled at him and he gave her a wink as he followed Fatty to the door. It was cool out in the open air after the warmth of the restaurant and he shivered.

"I'm not holding you up on anything am I, Fatty?"

"Larry, no way. It's a slack time and Dot can handle anything that comes up unless there's an emergency. We'll stroll back and I'll fill you in on..."

"Harmer. Miss Harmer the cat girl and that'll finish the world of Candling and associates and – incidentally." Larry turned and took a quick look at Fatty as they walked side by side.

"Speaking of the animal world as in pets..."

"Yes, Larry!"

"You've read my mind haven't you?"

"I think I have, Larry."

"I don't know whether I should... I'm sorry! I hope I'm not bringing up any memories you'd rather I didn't, Fatty."

Fatty clapped him on the back. "Larry, you're one of my very best friends so feel free to ask me anything you like... even that!"

"Thanks, Fatty!"

They turned the corner and walked down the street towards the building that housed FTI.

To be continued...