Cold Crumpet Farm - Part One
by Little Dot
Flora Post stopped her
car in a lay-by, unfolded the letter and reread it.
"Dear Miss Post,
my name is Kenton Archer and although you may not recognise my name
I believe that we are distantly related: your father and my mother
are cousins. I am writing to request your help.
Ìý
"Whilst on a recent business
trip to Sydney I happened to meet an elderly lady in a hotel lobby and
fell into conversation with her. The lady’s name was Ada Doom and she
was, she explained, on a round-the-world cruise. In the course of the
conversation she told me how your influence had caused her family to be
turned from batty, inbred yokels into normal well adjusted people. When
the lady told me your name I was struck by a feeling that I had heard
it before, but it was not until later that I realised that you were ‘Cousin
Flora’, and that I recognised your name from my mother’s Christmas card
list. I felt that this coincidence was an omen that I should at least
attempt to obtain your help with my family.
"I will not go into detail
so as not to prejudice your view of them, but suffice to say that certain
members of my family are possessed of such objectionable personalities
that my wife and I no longer find it possible to visit my home village
of Ambridge. I would be eternally grateful if you would consider assisting
me with this matter.
"If you are amenable
I will arrange for you to stay at Brookfield Farm in Ambridge (I enclose
directions and a map as Ambridge does not appear in any British road atlas).
Please get in touch with me using to contact details at the top of this
letter.
"With grateful thanks
in anticipation of your assistance, Kenton Archer."
Flora had been so intrigued by
the letter that she had immediately written back to Kenton saying that
she did, indeed know of his parents, Phil and Jill, that she would very
much like to spend some time with them in Ambridge, and that although
she could make no promises she would ‘do what she could’.
She checked the map again (that
had been her main reason for stopping). The instructions said that if
she carried on along this road for another half mile and then took a left
turning through a gate, over a cattle grid, past a sign that said ‘beware
of the leopard’, and over a river bridge she would find herself in Ambridge.
Flora started the engine, checked her mirrors and moved off
fIn the kitchen at Brookfield
Jill was looking after the new baby while David and Ruth did the milking.
Jill had already taken the liberty of reorganising the airing cupboard
back to the way that she had always had it, and was about to start ironing
David’s Y-fronts when there was a knock at the door. Jill picked up baby
Ben and went to answer it. Flora had just raised her hand to knock a second
time when the door was opened.
"Ah, good morning," said Flora,
"I suppose you must be Jill. I’m Flora."
"Oh,
yes, dear," Jill said. "Come on in. So, you’re little Flora? I haven’t
seen you since your christening, and I haven’t seen your father for nearly
that long. Now, you hold Ben," she thrust the grubby, shoeless child into
Flora’s arms, "and I’ll take your case up to your room; and then we can
have a lovely cup of tea."
It took two cups of Jill’s overly
strong tea and a slice of home made Madeira cake before Flora managed
to escape. She resolved to head back to the village to explore a little.
She found the village shop with relative ease and spent an enjoyable while
browsing the shelves. She also took the opportunity to listen in to a
conversation between the shop teller, a woman named Betty, and her customer,
a Mrs Snell. From their short exchange Flora overheard that the doctor’s
wife had been involved in some impropriety with a local landowner, and
that the unfortunate woman had since been abandoned by both men.
Flora bought the latest issue
of Vogue and followed Mrs Snell out of the shop. She wanted an opportunity
to speak with one of the more knowledgeable locals. She need not have
worried. Lynda, having observed Flora inside the shop, was loitering outside
with the obvious intention of having a chat. Flora walked directly towards
her. "Good morning," she said holding out her hand. "I’m Flora Post, I’m
down from London on a visit."
"Lynda Snell," said Lynda, "of
Ambridge Hall. I’ve heard all about you, of course, from Jill. So, you’re
one of the Archer clan?"
"Gosh," said Flora, "No, well, only by marriage. I barely know them. I’ve
actually not really met any of them before today." Flora paused. She was
keen to hear what Lynda thought of the Archers, but was unsure of how
to ask. Lynda, however, obliged without prompting.
"They’re an interesting family, the Archers," she said. "They’ve been
in the village for generations. And it’s so nice that David has taken
over Brookfield; he and Ruth have worked so hard there, and of course
they’ve got a young family that they can one day pass it on to."
"What’s David like?" Flora prompted.
Lynda seemed to consider for a moment. "Well," she said slowly, "He’s
very.."
"Yes?" said Flora.
"..er, dependable," Lynda said eventually.
Flora
nodded encouragingly "And Shula?" she asked. Her cousin Shula was very
close to her in age and Flora was hoping for a kindred spirit.
"Oh," Lynda’s face lit up, "a pillar of the community. So helpful and
caring. She’s a churchwarden you know.." Flora didn’t but she nodded anyway..
"and, of course, she helps out as much as she can with village events."
Lynda needed little prompting.
Within the hour Flora knew as much as she could want to know about her
Archer relatives. Reading between the lines of what Lynda had told her
she had David down as being boring, predictable and conservative; Shula
as a living saint; and Elizabeth as career driven and coldhearted. Phil,
Flora decided, sounded fundamentally all right, but too caught up in the
past. And as for Jill: well, thought Flora, the sooner I cut those particular
apron strings the better!
Picking a point in the conversation
where she could politely excuse herself Flora took her leave of Mrs Snell
and took a round about route back to Brookfield. She arrived in the yard
with flushed cheeks, muddied shoes and a rip in her stocking from a badly
maintained stile, but with a pleasing sensation of knowing her way forward.
She should, Flora thought, tackle Elizabeth first.
After supper, which Flora noticed
was cooked, served and presided over by Jill, Flora said "I thought I
might pay a visit on cousin Elizabeth tomorrow."
"You’ll have to phone first and make an appointment," quipped David. Only
Ruth smiled at his joke, and Flora made a mental note to do what she could
for Ruth. David’s point, it transpired, was a legitimate one. Flora had
been planning to motor over to Lower Loxley in the morning, but when Jill
returned from phoning her daughter she reported that Elizabeth could "fit
Flora in" at six the evening after next. Left with the entire day free
Flora wondered out loud how she should spend it.
"Do you ride, dear?" Jill asked.
The response was affirmative. "Then why not drop in to the stables? You
can meet Shula and take a horse out if you fancy it." It was a good plan.
Flora agreed.
Flora starts to put Shula
on the right track in Part
Two>>
More parodies - from Agatha Christie
to Damon Runyon
.
<<Back
