(Vegetables) Chapter Thirty Two: A Counting Error

There is no chapter thirty two. Ooops. My bad.

(Vegetables) Chapter Nineteen: A Disconcerting Discovery For Richard. The Chickens Weren’t Too Happy Either.

Richard was back again after work. Honestly, you’d think he didn’t know how to cook, or have his own home for that matter! Though, having seen his stately pile with the basement full of junk, it’s not surprising he preferred to spend his time with people who actually seemed to like him.

Though Felindre was still reserving judgement.

He also seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time in the back garden, messing around with bits of wood and hammering things. The chickens seemed unfazed by this activity; actually, they seemed quite happy as he’d made them a perch so that they could look in the kitchen window. Morwen seemed happy to have him around⁵⁴.

The past few days had been surprisingly quiet, without any other attempted break-ins or attempts to extort cookery books, though someone kept pushing pieces of paper with random addresses written on them through the letterbox⁵⁵. Felindre had taken the cook book into work with her on the grounds that she was the one least likely to get hurt if someone tried taking it off her. Even the pigeons had stopped following Felindre, word must have spread in that community about her slingshot and willingness to use it.

Morwen was spitting bullets about rabbits in her vegetable patch and Rosa had brought back a load of carrot and orange fairy cakes from the office, which no one would eat because they were horrible. Even the chickens, who’ll eat most things, turned their beaks up at them.

Anyway, this particular evening, the happy couple⁵⁶ were out in the back garden, when Morwen said:

“What’s this?”

Lying in the middle of the lawn was a small pile of cogs, and a jointed brass limb. It looked like a model animal paw of some description, but it was small, like it belonged to a toy.

Richard picked it up and looked closely at it. He turned pale, but his voice was steady when he said:

“Dunno – a toy of some description? Maybe a magpie picked it up from somewhere and dropped it?”

“Well, it is shiny,” said Morwen, dubiously.

One of the chickens pecked at her wellington boot, while another clucked at Richard. He quickly pocketed the brass leg and went over to the hen house.

“What’s up, cluck?” asked Morwen. “Oh, you poor thing, you’ve been hurt! Rosa! Bourboun’s been hurt! Get the first aid kit!”

Sure enough, the poor chicken was missing a few feathers and had some angry scratches on her side. She clucked at Morwen hopefully.

Morwen disappeared into the house for a few minute, and came back with Rosa, the first aid kit, some antiseptic powder, and a big box of meal worms⁵⁷. The two women fussed over the injured chicken, and looked over the others, which gave Richard just enough time to pick up the remaining pieces of a shattered brass oriental dragon from where they were hidden in the nest box and hide them in his toolbox.

“Poor girls,” said Rosa, liberally dishing out chicken treats, antiseptic powder and first aid. “I hope you’ve given that nasty cat what for.”

The chickens crowded around her and Rosa, while Richard looked around the garden, looking worried.

___

⁵⁴ Don’t ask me why. More squishy human stuff, probably.
⁵⁵ They got ignored and recycled with the rest of the junk mail.
⁵⁶ Ew!
⁵⁷ Favoured chicken treats – the girls go mental for them

(Vegetables) Chapter Eighteen: I Wouldn’t Want To Get On The Wrong Side Of Felindre, Would You?

Felindre and Richard insisted on showing the not-policeman to the door, which they closed firmly with them and him on the street side.

When they opened it, several minutes later, the young man could be seen limping quickly down the road, and Felindre and Richard had obviously come to some sort of accord. Felindre in particular looked happier than she had since the whole middle of the night shenanigans had kicked off.

Richard looked happier too, until he saw the look that Morwen was giving him.

“Uh oh,” muttered Rosa. “She’s giving him The Look. Come on Fel, let’s go back to bed.”

And she pulled Felindre up the stairs, but not before Felindre said to Morwen:

“Go easy on him – he did turn up in the middle of the night to stop us getting burgled.”

There was another long moment of Morwen glaring at Richard.⁵²

“Um,” said Richard. “I suppose I’d better be getting home and let you get back to bed.”

“Not so fast, mate,” said Morwen. “You’ve got some explaining to do. Like how you knew to come here, just in time.”

“I told you,” he said, exasperatedly. “You rang me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, ok, I didn’t pick up in time and you didn’t leave a message, but you did text afterwards. Here.”

He showed her his phone, with the message from her number saying “Come quick – urgent!!!”

“I didn’t send that – I was asleep!”

“Well, who did then?”

“Sissy!”

“Yes, Morwen?” Sissy replied.

“Did you text Richard to tell him to come here?” Morwen asked.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Sissy replied.

“Nevermind,” sighed Morwen. “Go to sleep.”

“I still think you should get a new phone,” said Richard. “Still, it all worked out, didn’t it? If the message hadn’t shown up, then you would have been burgled – or worse.”

Morwen rubbed her face with her hands.

“It’s too early for this,” she said tiredly.

“Goodnight then,” said Richard, and he reached for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked him.

“Um, home?”

“Don’t think about it – you still have a lot of questions to answer. In the morning. Well, later in the morning. Come on.”

And she held out her hand and led him up the stairs.




A few hours later, just as the sun was rising, Richard came downstairs for a glass of water. He saw Morwen’s phone, lying on the table.

“So,” he said, “does this mean we have a truce?”

“Don’t bet on it, buster,” replied Sissy. “Come near me and I’ll zap you so hard your cogs will melt.”

“Then why call me to help? Why not Tom?”

“Because when a dodgy character is breaking into your home, it’s best to call another dodgy character to sort them out. Besides, Tom’s already helped out once already. He’s sweet, but he hasn’t really got that killer instinct.”

“As says all of his appraisals for the past three years,” muttered Richard.

“What was that?” asked Sissy.

“Nothing,” said Richard louder.

There was another moment of silence, broken only by sleepy clucks from the back garden.

“I’ll make you a promise,” said Sissy. “If you hurt Morwen, I’ll make damn sure that you can never do anything electronic ever again. AND you’ll have to spent the rest of your life wearing thick rubber-soled shoes every time you set foot out of doors.”

Richard did not look happy.

“Fine,” said Richard, in tones that suggested anything but. “We understand each other.

“I’ll make you a promise too,” he continued. “If you hurt Morwen, I swear I will come after you, earth you good and proper and have at you with a set of exceptionally large pliers. Then, when I’ve dismantled you, I’ll put you back together as a talking doll, and drop you off at the nearest nursery school.”

There was a ping, and Richard ducked, faster than any normal person could manage, as a jam jar on the countertop shattered. Richard wheeled to see Felindre, with slingshot armed and pointed at him.

“Careful,” he said. “Morwen will kill you if you damage any of her plants.”

“I’m a very good shot,” she said conversationally. “I heard voices so I came to find out what was going on. And overheard a very interesting conversation. Were you really threatening Morwen’s phone?”

“Sissy started it.”

Felindre blinked, confused.

“Sissy, were you threatening Richard?”

“I’m sorry,” said Sissy. “I don’t understand.”

“Were you threatening Richard with dire consequences if he did something nasty to Morwen?”

“I’m sorry,” said Sissy. “I don’t understand.”

“Stupid piece of rubbish,” muttered Richard. “Definitely a few transistors short of a circuit.”⁵³

He stared at the phone, as if daring it to say or do something. When it didn’t, he turned to Felindre.

“Can I go back to bed now, or are you going to threaten to do nasty things to me if I hurt Morwen too?”

“I don’t need to threaten,” replied Felindre.

Richard looked at her for a long moment.

“No,” he said slowly. “You don’t do you?”

Felindre smiled, and lowered the slingshot.
___
⁵² Honestly, you’d think that they’d be better at conversation by now.
⁵³ Which was just plain rude.

(Vegetables) Chapter Thirty: Attack Of The Evil Rabbits

It was later on that evening, and the atmosphere in the barn was a glittering wall of big band sound. Rosa had wrangled tickets for herself and Morwen, on the strength of Felindre covering the double bass position in the band. Rosa looked amazing, having somehow cobbled together a perfect replica 1950s dress from a pair of curtains and a few bits and pieces. She’d even curled her hair in the right style, and looked like she’d stepped off a film set.

Felindre alternated between looking annoyed and bored. When she was concentrating on the music, plucking away at the bass strings, she looked bored. When she looked out at the dancing and saw Rosa being thrown around the dance floor by a succession of handsome and well-groomed young men, she looked annoyed.

“God, I hate walking bass lines,” said Felindre to Morwen at the bar, during a break in the live music. She tugged on her hair, and her flower hairclip fell out.

“Dammit!” she cursed.

“Here,” said Morwen, “let me help.”

“Bloody thing won’t stay in,” said Felindre crossly. “And I’m wearing a skirt.”

“Suits you,” said Morwen. “There, got it. It should stay in now.”

“If you value your life, never speak of this to anyone,” Felindre replied. Then, to the barman: “Double vodka and orange, please.”

Rosa bounced over to them, with another young man in tow.

“Fel, you look amazing!” she squealed. “And Mor, what a fabulous dress! That colour is so you!”

She grabbed hold of the young man’s arm, and pulled him closer into the group.

“This is Chas,” she said, “and he’s an amazing dancer, I mean he’s just brilliant! Knows all the moves and really makes a girl look good on the dancefloor, know what I mean?”

She giggled. Felindre’s grasp on her drink tightened, the knuckles whitening. Chas looked embarrassed, and subtly tried to extract his arm from Rosa’s grasp, but failed.

“Oh, it’s not me,” he demurred. “Rosa’s got a natural talent for this style of dance. I can’t believe she hasn’t done it before.”

“Oh, stop!” said Rosa, getting even more high pitched⁸¹ and slapping him playfully on the shoulder with her spare hand.

If looks could kill, the look Felindre was giving poor Chas could have taken him out, and half of London as well. Fortunately, before she could do anything other than glare, the group were joined by another young woman.

“Nics!” said Chas in obvious relief. “There you are!”

Nics eyes narrowed as she saw Rosa’s hold on Chas’ arm.

“This is Nics, my wife,” said Chas hurriedly.

Rosa turned to Nics enthusiastically, not letting go of Chas’ arm.

“Lovely to meet you,” she said. “Do you dance as well as Chas? He’s an amazing dancer!”

“He’s had a lot of practise,” said Nics, coldly.

Felindre glared at Chas. Chas sent beseeching glances to Nics. Nics scowled at Rosa. Rosa smiled at everyone, oblivious.

Morwen jumped into the conversation before anything else could be said which might progress the current cold war into total global annihilation.

“Hi, I’m Morwen, and this is Felindre, Rosa’s girlfriend.”

“Excuse me,” Felindre grated. “But I’m due back to play now.”

She knocked back her drink in one, and stalked off across the dance floor.

Rosa dropped Chas’ arm, to his obvious relief, and watched Felindre walk away.

“Was it something I said?” she asked, plaintively.

“Go after her, you twit,” hissed Morwen.

Rosa obeyed, leaving Nics and Chas looking at each other and at Morwen, who felt obliged to say something.

“Don’t worry, they’ll sort it out,” she said. “They always do, though I hope they get the shouting over with somewhere else.”

There was another awkward moment. Then, out of the blue, Nics said:

“That’s an amazing necklace. Do you mind if I ask where you got it?”

“This?” asked Morwen, touching the ladybird necklace that Richard had given her. “It was a present from my boyfriend.”

Both Nics and Chas were looking intently at her and her necklace now.

“It’s beautiful, so detailed,” said Nics. “Do you know where he got it from?”

“No, sorry,” said Morwen.

“Could you find out? It’s such an amazing piece, and I’d love to meet its maker.”

Morwen was spared the effort of replying, because her phone chose that moment to ring with the opening phrase of “The Ride of the Valkeries”. Both Chas and Nics flinched visibly.

“Sorry,” said Morwen, not-entirely-honestly. “I’d better take this.”

She answered the phone as she walked out of the barn back towards the house.

“Hello?”

It was Richard.

“You rang?” he asked.

“Not me,” said Morwen. “You did.”

“No, but it’s nice to talk to you anyway. How’s things over there?”

“Well, if you discount the Spanish Inquisition by my mother, a double bass player hallucinating elephants performing Hamlet, Rosa and Felindre nearly having a massive row in the middle of a 1950s dance and a strange couple showing an unhealthy interest in the necklace you gave me, it’s all going fine thanks.”

“Oh,” said Richard. “Glad to hear it. Tell me about this couple. If they recognised my work, they might be trouble.”

Morwen filled him in as she walked back to the house. On the way, she walked past a shadow containing several rabbits⁸² dragging something heavy, another containing a hunting hedgehog, and yet another containing a snogging couple. She’d just walked past that particular shadow when she heard a familiar giggle, Rosa’s.

“Didn’t take Rosa and Felindre long to kiss and make up,” she told Richard when she was safely out of earshot. “Thank God for that too – I have to share a bedroom with them tonight.”

A thought struck her. “Oh God, maybe I’d better find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

“Do you want me to come over?” Richard asked. “I can be there in no time at all.”

“No need,” said Morwen, “I’ll ring you tomorrow.”

They said their goodnights, and Morwen went into the kitchen, where Ruth was up making a cup of tea and looking worried.

“Have you seen your father recently?” Ruth asked. “He went out after tea, and I was expecting him in a while ago now, but he’s not back yet. I thought he might be at the barn?”

“No,” said Morwen, “I haven’t. I’ll go check the shed and the gardens, ok?”

The light was still on in the shed. Morwen opened the door to see her father tied up on the floor with a head of lettuce in his mouth.

“Dad! Who did this to you?”

She rushed over, pulled the lettuce out and untied him. Whoever it was had tied him up wasn’t very good at knots, so had compensated by practically cocooning him in the garden hose. Daffyd coughed and spluttered.

“Bloody multi-coloured rabbits!” he said. “Jumped me, tied me up and stole your book. Sorry love.”

“Don’t worry about the book,” she said. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, fine, fine,” said Daffyd. “Need a cup of tea to get the taste of lettuce out mind. Not my first choice as a gag, see?”

“Why would they use lettuce?” pondered Morwen. “Why that and not something else?”

SISE answered the question, though neither Morwen nor Daffyd were expecting it to.

“It is commonly believed that lettuce is a soporific for rabbits. Perhaps they thought it would send him to sleep.”

“Ah,” said Daffyd. “Didn’t work though, did it? Bloody rabbits.”

___

⁸¹ A couple of tones higher, and bats would be falling out of the sky.
⁸² At least one was a colour not traditionally associated with rabbits (zebra striped), but it was dark, so Morwen didn’t notice. That, and she was too busy talking to Richard.

(Vegetables) Chapter Fifteen: Knock Knock. Who’s There? A Series Of Strange Visitors

Morwen had just got home when the doorbell rang. It was the schoolgirl from the bookshop, carrying a tuba case on her back⁴³.

“Hi,” said the girl brightly. “I’m collecting old cook books, for charity! Do you happen to have any you’d like to get rid of?”

“What charity?”

“Er... Save the Gardens,” said the schoolgirl. “It’s a really good cause!”

Morwen was unsurprisingly not convinced.

“Sorry, but I’ve not got any cookbooks I’d like to get rid of.”

“Are you sure?” The schoolgirl looked at her pleadingly. “It’s a really good cause!”

“No, goodbye,” said Morwen, and she shut the door, firmly.

“Save the Gardens?” she said to herself. “If it’s such a good cause, why haven’t I heard about it before? Ha, rubbish!”

She made herself a cup of tea. The doorbell rang again.

“Hello,” said a bald man wearing a navy sweatshirt with the embroidered logo of National Gas on it.

“I’m here to read the meter,” he said.

Morwen gave him a look⁴⁴.

“We don’t have gas,” she said.

A look of desperation crossed his face.

“Are you sure?” he said. “Perhaps I can just come in to check?”

“I’m sure,” she said, and shut the door on him⁴⁵.

She was out in the back garden, picking some lettuce for a salad and being watched hopefully by the chickens in case she suddenly dropped any corn, when the doorbell went for a third time.

“Oh for pity’s sake,” she snapped, dumping the lettuce on the counter and leaving the back door ajar.

This time it was a policeman. A young one, dressed in particularly tight trousers.

“Sorry to bother you, miss,” he said. “But I’ve had a report that you’ve been in receipt of stolen property.”

“What?” said Morwen, incredulously.

“It’s a book,” he continued. “Can I come in?”

“Let me guess,” said Morwen. “The Art and Science of Fruit and Vegetable’s?”

The policeman nodded.

“Hang on just a minute,” said Morwen, as a loud, outraged squawking came from the back garden.

She went into the kitchen. Gingernut the chicken was standing on the back door step, clucking in an affronted manner. She shooed her away and closed the door, grabbed the book in question, and took it to where the policeman was standing patiently by the open front door.

“See?” she said, showing him the book, and also the receipt for buying it which she’d tucked into the book to use as a bookmark. “All legal and above board. If it was stolen, you’ll have to take it up with the booksellers.”

“Hmmm,” said the policeman. “I’ll still need to take the book in as evidence.”

Morwen noticed he’d started sweating. Something was not right here.

“I don’t think so,” she said firmly. “If you really do need it, come back with a warrant. Goodbye.”

And she shut and locked the door firmly.

In the kitchen she stepped into something soft, smelly and slightly damp.

“Oh God, what now!”

She looked down at her foot.

“Ewwww! Bloody rabbit pooing on my kitchen floor!!”

Morwen was bleaching the kitchen floor and ignoring every and all rings on the doorbell when her phone rang with “This is the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius”.

“Hey Rosa,” she said. “What’s up?”

“What’s up is you can darn well come to the front door and open up! You’ve left the key in the lock and I’ve been ringing the doorbell for ages!”

Morwen hurried to the door and opened it.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a weird few hours for people trying to get in.”

There was a squawk from an upstairs window, and a flurry of wings. They looked up, just in time to see a pigeon plummet towards the ground before it somehow straightened out from its dive and flew off unsteadily down the road.

“Got it,” said a satisfied voice.

It was Felindre, carefully putting a slingshot back into her handbag.

“Little git was trying to get in through the open window up there,” she said.

“Be careful,” warned Rosa in a worried tone. “Snowball gets up there sometimes.”

“Don’t worry,” reassured Felindre. “ I can tell the difference between a chicken and a pigeon, even if the chicken has white feathers.”

“Just what is it about today?” moaned Morwen. “First scary little old ladies, then rabbit poo and people desperate to get their hands on a flipping cookbook!”

“Come on,” said Rosa. “I’ll make some tea, and you can tell us all about it.”

“Better break out the chocolate biscuits too,” said Morwen glumly.

“I’ve got a bit of random news,” said Rosa. “Apparently there’s been a series of break-ins in toyshops all around the country. Been going on for months.”

“Oh?” said Morwen, disinterestedly while rummaging in the cupboard for the biscuits.

“Yeah,” replied Rosa. “But the weird thing is, the only things that were taken were the water pistols. And we’re not talking about the low end dribblers here, we’re talking the hundred quid, shoots water for six feet, guaranteed soakers.”

“Who’d be after those?” Felindre asked, getting the milk out.

“Dunno,” said Rosa. “Someone planning the world’s biggest water fight?”

___

⁴³ There was a black banana lying in the gutter near her feet.
⁴⁴ Kind of a cross between exasperated parent and disapproving school teacher.
⁴⁵ He was about to try sticking his foot in the door, but moved it at the last minute. Sensible of him.

(Vegetables) Chapter Fourteen: Little Old Ladies Really Shouldn’t Be That Scary!

“Excuse me, young lady!” called a voice as Morwen was leaving the park buildings to go home that evening. She turned to look, and saw the little old lady with a cane who’d crashed into her in the bookshop a few days earlier.

A flock of pigeons, disturbed by the shout, took off.

“Excuse me,” the little old lady said again. “But I was wondering, was it you who bought the last copy of The Art and Science of Fruit and Vegetable’s?”

“What if I did?” said Morwen, a bit unnerved.

There was something about this little old lady that just seemed a bit off. When you considered the nearly-knocking-over incident, and the yelling-at-shop-assistants incident, it’s not really all that surprising that Morwen was looking at her a bit suspiciously.

The little old lady smiled, in what she obviously hoped was a friendly way. It looked a bit fake, and kind of freaky. Almost like the sort of smile psychopaths practice in the mirror to look more human, which never works.

“Well, if you did,” she said, “I’d be very happy if I could buy it off you, for twenty pounds, say. What do you think?”

“That’s a very generous offer, but I quite like the book, so I’m going to keep it.”

“Fifty pounds. It’s really quite important to me. I had a copy, you see, and it got destroyed and I’ve been looking everywhere for another one.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Morwen politely, “but no, I’m not going to sell it.”

“A hundred pounds. I really want that book.” The little old lady was getting more emphatic and intense⁴⁰ with each word.

Morwen looked around. The street was unusually empty, and the little old lady was starting to get a bit too close. Morwen didn’t like the way she was holding that cane either, brandishing the silver cucumber handle in front of her face.

“It’s not for sale,” Morwen snapped.

The little old lady leaned closer and licked her lips. Somehow she no longer seemed like a harmless, if annoying, little old lady. Instead there was an aura of menace clinging to her, along with the faint smell of lavender⁴¹.

“One thousand pounds, and believe me, you’d be a smart girl to take this final offer. Who knows what can happen, eh? Not safe in our beds are we?”

“It is not for sale,” said Morwen through gritted teeth, “and I don’t appreciate being threatened like this.”

“Morwen!” came a shout from behind the little old lady. It was Hello-my-name-is-Tom, who waved. He looked a bit out of breath, like he’d been running.

The little old lady turned, saw him, and backed off a little bit.

“Threatening?” she tittered in a way that was as fake as her smile. “Dearie me, nothing of the sort. You take care now, dearie. And don’t you forget my offer. One hundred pounds, still stands.”

And with that, the little old lady hobbled off down the street, past Tom. Morwen could have sworn that she deliberately stuck her cane out to trip Tom up as she passed him. Tom was watching her carefully, and adroitly jumped over the cane.

“You ok? I came as fast as I could,” he said, as he got to Morwen.

“Yeah,” she said. “What do you mean, came as fast as you could?”

“You texted me,” said Tom.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Look,” said Tom, fishing his mobile out of his pocket and pressing a few buttons to show her a text. It said: “Come quick” and gave the address of where they were standing.

“I definitely didn’t send that,” said Morwen. She pulled her phone out of her bag, and looked at it.

“Sissy?”

“Yes, Morwen?” replied Sissy.

“Did you text Tom just now?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Sissy, did you text Tom a few minutes ago?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Sissy, stop messing about.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”

Morwen sighed and put her phone away.

“Technology, eh? Never mind how you got here. I’m glad you did. That is one scary lady. Thanks.”

“You’re telling me,” he replied. “What is with that stick of hers?”

“Yeah – is it really a cucumber she’s got as a handle?”

“Looks like to me. And think nothing of it, I still owe you one for picking me out of the middle of a brass band.”

“How’s the eyes?”

“Much better thanks. Which way are you heading?”

“Home,” said Morwen, waving a hand in the right general direction.

“Looks like we’re going the same way,” said Tom. “Think your boyfriend will mind if I walk with you a way?”

“If he does,” said Morwen grimly, “there will be words.”⁴²

Companionably they walked away from the park, passing by a lamppost to which a poster had been stuck. It said “Have you seen my guinea pig?” underneath a blurry photo of a small rodent, and gave a phone number.

A duck, sitting on a wide brick wall, watched them go, and then took off for parts unknown.

___

⁴⁰ and to be honest, scary
⁴¹ And something else? Sunflower seeds?
⁴² Not all of them polite, by the tone of her voice.

(Vegetables) Chapter Twelve: The Prodigals Return, In More Ways Than One

Morwen found her phone at the bottom of her handbag the next day.

“There you are!” she said to it. “I’ve turned that bag out half a dozen times at least yesterday, with no sign of you. Where have you been?”

The phone didn’t answer, but then Morwen didn’t really expect it to.

Rosa called from the kitchen, where she was peeling a hard-boiled egg.

“Hey, this egg’s got a square yolk! That’s really cool!”

There was a scrabbling sound from the roof. Rosa stuck her head out the kitchen window, looked up and sighed.

“Better get the ladder,” she told Morwen. “Snowball’s stuck on the roof again.”

Morwen was out in the back garden, dealing with her emotions by viciously weeding in the fenced off area that was her vegetable patch. The chickens were roaming free range in the rest of the garden, with Snowball, newly rescued from the roof, perched watchfully on top of the roof of the henhouse. All the hens looked up expectantly, when Richard knocked on the door.

Rosa answered it.

“You’ve got a nerve,” she said when she saw him. “I hope you’ve come to apologise.”

“I came to make sure you’re all ok,” said Richard.

“Well, Morwen’s had her heart broken by an insensitive, jealous and an over-possessive clod who she had a fight with and now won’t return her calls. Fel’s being followed around and stared at by pigeons, and can’t get the cake crumbs out from under her nails, and I just know I’m going to be yelled at by my boss at the very least tomorrow, or fired, and I’m honestly not sure what’s worse. And my horoscope says that an employer or relative won’t understand my reasons for coming to a certain decision. So we could all be better.”

“Is she in? Morwen?”

Rosa sighed.

“This is against my better judgement,” she said. “But Mor’s horoscope today said to not make a mountain out of a molehill while opportunities come her way, so I’m taking it to mean that she should be forgiving. And it said that like the Moon, a relationship would enter a new phase. And if she daydreamed she’d be able to access parts of herself that time doesn’t always allow. I haven’t told her that though.”

Rosa paused and gave Richard what she thought was a steely glare³⁵.

“If you upset her again, there’ll be trouble.”

“I came to apologise,” confessed Richard. “And beg for forgiveness.”

“Alright then. She’s in the garden.”

As soon as Richard set foot in the garden, a dozen beady avian eyes turned to stare at him. These belonged to half a dozen chickens. They did not look impressed. In fact, they almost looked homicidal. Rosa should take lessons from them on giving dirty looks.

“Rosa,” said Morwen, without turning around. “We’ve got a rabbit problem. They’ve been eating my cabbages. And they’re annoying the chickens.”

“How do you know?” asked Richard.

Morwen turned to look at him. She didn’t look too happy to see him either.

“Er, hi?” said Richard, looking very nervous.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “And think very carefully before you answer. I have a pitchfork and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“I came to apologise,” said Richard. “I’ve tried calling, but your phone rings and rings and you never pick up. So I thought I’d come over instead.”

Morwen frowned. “But I haven’t seen any missed calls from you. I’ve not seen anything from you. And when I’ve tried ringing you it just rings and rings too.”

“I think your phone may not like me very much,”³⁶ said Richard, flexing his bandaged hand.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Nothing, er, what I meant to say was that I’ve been trying to get hold of you for ages now, and I wanted to say how sorry I am for being a jealous, insensitive clod. I don’t know where we’re going, Morwen, but I do really want to find out.”

Morwen’s knuckles tightened around the pitchfork handle, and she stabbed it roughly into the ground.

The chickens were still staring at Richard. He stood stock still, looking like he was holding his breath.

“If we’re going to be together,” Morwen said firmly, “we need to trust each other. If you can’t do that, then you know where the door is.”

“Ok,” said Richard. “Ask me anything – I’ll tell you the truth.”

Morwen stared at him for two and a half minutes, her expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally. “I won’t bother you again.”³⁷

He turned to leave.

“Wait!” said Morwen³⁸.

“Cabbage or carrots with nut roast?” she asked.

The chickens, as one, stopped staring, and went back to scratching and doing chicken things.

“Both?” suggested Richard, uncertainly.

“Good answer,” she replied, and smiled.



Felindre arrived for dinner looking very harried, and a bit wet while Morwen was upstairs sorting something out.

“I swear,” she said, shaking her umbrella outside the door. “I’m going to start carrying a slingshot with me, and then heaven help any pigeon that gets close. Bloody things.”

She stopped dead and stared at Richard.

“What,” she said shortly, “is he doing here?”

Rosa came up to her and gave her a hug.

“Mor’s forgiven him,” she said. “Go figure.”

Felindre gave him a look to suggest that even if Morwen had forgiven him, she hadn’t and was perfectly prepared to do something nasty to him if he screwed up again³⁹.

Richard looked serious. He nodded slightly, acknowledging the situation.

“Did you say that the pigeons are following you?” he asked Felindre seriously.

She nodded.

“’Please excuse me,” he said. “I just need to pop out and make a call for a minute.”

“Weird much?” muttered Rosa, as he walked out the back door into the garden. She looked out the window.

“He’s only bent down and talking to the chickens now,” she continued. “What does Morwen see in men anyway?”

“Women are crazy,” replied Felindre absently, still watching Richard, who was still in deep conversation with the hens.

“Love you too,” smiled Rosa.
___
³⁵ It wasn’t
³⁶ Understatement, that.
³⁷ Yes!
³⁸ Damn.
³⁹ Rosa should have taken some lessons in the dirty looks department from her too.

(Vegetables) Chapter Nine: A Little Bit Of Recovery Time

None of them went back to work that afternoon, as the whole town centre had been closed down by the police. Instead they went to Felindre’s flat, which was close enough by for them all to calm down and feel safe.

It was a small flat, yet very tastefully furnished in reds and oranges and golds, with plenty of comfy cushions and the occasional oriental style print on the wall. In one corner stood a music stand, a high stool and a double bass. Propped in another corner, under a ceiling hook was a very large, very heavy looking punch-bag. The fabric strap that attached the bag to its hanging chain had been torn clean off²⁶.

They still had the young man who had taken a cream cake to the face. He was not looking very happy – his eyes were very red and puffy and painful looking. Morwen had finally recognised him as Hello-my-name-is-Tom, from the bookshop, recently having been at the receiving end of a little old lady rant.

Tom shuddered.

“Oh yes, “ he said. “ I remember her! And that stick of hers – she certainly waved it in my face enough. All I could think of was wondering why the handle was shaped like a cucumber.”

Felindre had taken charge. She had an excessively well stocked first aid kit, including, but not limited to some things that should have only been available to orthopaedic surgeons.

“Are you a doctor or something?” Hello-my-name-is-Tom asked her, as she carefully wiped off his face with sterile wipes.

“Or something,” Felindre said, shooting daggered looks at Rosa, who was trying not to laugh behind Hello-my-name-is-Tom’s back. “What on earth was in that cream? Acid?”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” mumbled Hello-my-name-is-Tom. “Ow!”

“Don’t fuss,” said Felindre, absently.

Morwen’s phone rang – the theme to James Bond. It was Richard.

“Are you ok?” he asked straight away. “I heard there’s a riot, or possibly a food fight, near your work.”

“I’m ok, though Rosa’s a bit shook. We’re at Felindre’s.”

“Give me the address, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“No need, honestly, we’re fine.”

“But...” Richard protested.

Morwen felt the phone expertly plucked out of her hands. It was Rosa.

“I’ll text the address. Ignore Mor, she’s gone into super-efficient super woman mode. She does that. Best thing is to not let her get away with it, otherwise she gets really bossy.”

And Rosa hung up.

“Rosa,” said Morwen. “Give me my phone, now.”

Morwen was not happy.

“Give me my phone, Rosa.”

Rosa was frantically poking at the phone.

“How do you make this thing work?”

“Rosa!”

Rosa danced away as Morwen grabbed for the phone, right into Felindre’s reach. Felindre expertly and without even looking around grabbed the phone and tossed it to Morwen, who caught it.

“Don’t text him my address,” said Felindre.

“Believe me, I’ve no intention of texting Richard your address, Felindre.”

Sissy spoke: “Texting Richard Felindre’s address.”²⁷

“Dammit!” yelled Morwen. “Sissy, no!”

“I think you need a new phone,” giggled Rosa.

Morwen threw a cushion at her. Rosa ducked. The cushion sailed perilously close to the double bass and knocked over the music stand.

“Hey!” protested Felindre. “Stop that, or I’ll throw you all out!”

She glared at them for a moment, then all three dissolved into a fit of giggles. Hello-my-name-is-Tom peered through swollen eyes, completely bemused.

Richard arrived twenty seven minutes later, looking harried. He’d cleaned up, but there were unmistakeably signs of scone crumbs in his hair. He also was favouring his left arm.

“Does someone around here feed the pigeons?” he asked as he came in the door. “Only there’s a lot of them hanging around outside. And I could have sworn I saw a bright green rabbi-”

He stopped abruptly as he saw Hello-my-name-is-Tom sitting on the sofa with a pack of frozen peas wrapped in a towel pressed to his face, watching the television, where the local news was all about the cake fight²⁸.

“What,” said Richard in a dangerously measured tone, “are you doing here?”

Hello-my-name-is-Tom jumped off the sofa like he’d been electrocuted, and practically stood to attention. But before he could open his mouth, Felindre had stood up and walked to in front of Richard.

At her full height, she barely reached his breastbone, but the look she gave him had him taking a step back²⁹.

“He’s here as my guest,” she said, also in a dangerously measured tone.

“Welcome to Felindre’s home for waifs and strays,” giggled Rosa.

Felindre, Morwen and Richard all turned to glare at her.

“What?” she protested. “I’m just trying to lighten the atmosphere…”

It hadn’t worked. Richard went back to staring daggers at Tom.

“I caught a cream cake in the face,” Tom explained hurriedly, obviously trying to calm things down. “And I reacted badly. Lactose intolerance. Purely accidental!!”

Richard didn’t look like he was buying the accidental part, though it was patently obvious by the state of Tom’s face that something had hit him, and hard.

“Anyway,” continued Tom, nervously, “thanks very much for everything, but I think I really should be getting home now.”

“Don’t be silly!” said Rosa. “At least wait until someone can come and collect you.”

“No, no,” stuttered Tom. “I can see now, and it’s just a few minutes until the next bus home. I’ll be fine!”

“Keep an eye on that face, and if the swelling hasn’t gone down by tomorrow, go to the doctors,” Felindre ordered him, still staring Richard down. “And if the swelling increases, or you have any problems breathing, go straight to the emergency room – no delays.”

“Yes ma’am,” replied Tom, shuffling sideways towards the door.

Morwen scribbled her phone number down on a piece of paper.

“Text me when you get home,” she said, “so we know you got back alright.”

Richard gave her a look. She stared back at him.

“You,” she said to Richard. “Kitchen, now.”

“Um, bye, and thanks,” said Tom, making his escape.

Rosa and Felindre looked at each other as the sound of raised voices came from the kitchen. It all started very calm and reasonable, then Rosa winced as Morwen shouted:

“I can’t believe you’re jealous!”

“I was worried sick about you!”

“I was FINE!!”

Richard stormed out of the kitchen.

“Rosa, Felindre, good to see you again.”

And with that, he was out of the flat and gone.

Behind him, Rosa and Felindre shared a look.

“I’ll get the chocolate, you get the wine,” Rosa told her girlfriend. “It’s going to be a long night.”

___

²⁶ From the amount of stitching on both the bag and the strap, not for the first time either.
²⁷ Damn that voice control interface, so unreliable!
²⁸ The news anchors were baffled. So were the police. The local reporter was reporting in from the scene of the fight, where all that was left was a turned over table with a forlorn and ripped paper tablecloth rippling in the breeze. And pigeons. Lots of them, eating the spilled cake. Some had eaten so much they weren’t really pigeon-shaped any more, more spherical.
²⁹ If you think you could have withstood Felindre’s stare any better, well, let me know. I’ll set up a match (and earn a lot of money betting against you).

(Vegetables) Chapter Twenty Five: There’s Something Not Quite Right About The Boss…

“The bad news is, Barbra Allen’s escaped,” said Richard. “The good news is that we’ve got her dragons, so she won’t be going far.”

The friends were in the old manor house where Richard had his lab. They weren’t in the lab, instead they were in a cosy room, sort of a cross between a hotel room and a hospital, where Rosa – who had recovered from her faint, had been installed in the bed. She’d been carefully checked by a doctor and pronounced fit and well, though possibly suffering from shock. At that moment, she was sitting up in the bed comfortably.

Felindre and Morwen also had clean bills of health, though in Felindre’s case, she had an interestingly shaped bruise on her foot from where she’d drop-kicked the dragon down the hall.

“I think I speak for everyone here,” said Morwen, “when I ask – how the hell did you wind up tied to an office chair by your boss, Rosa?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rosa protested. “I didn’t know she was going to do that! And those dragons caught you by surprise as much as they did me!”

“Start at the beginning,” advised Richard.

Rosa took a deep breath.

“Ok. Somehow Barbra had got it into her head that I possessed mind control powers.”

“You what?!” said Felindre.

“Yeah,” continued Rosa. “That’s what I thought. But she heard me yell at the crowd at the cake fight, and tell them to stop, and everyone did for a minute. So she thought I had some power or something.

“And do you remember, the day after the cake fight, she called me into the office to quiz me about the fight and how I managed to get people to fight over the copies of the paper?”

Morwen nodded.

“And I made a crack about it being the fairy cakes, not me, so she asked me for the recipe?”

Morwen nodded again. She looked at the others and shrugged.

“It seemed an odd request, but when you put it into the context of some of the crazy thing’s Rosa’s had to do for work, it’s downright normal.”

“So, I gave her the recipe,” said Rosa, “and she tries making them and brought them into work to test them out on the staff.”

She giggled. “She’s not much of a cook, obviously. No one touched them. So I think she decided then that I’d told her a pack of lies, and that it was me who had the power after all.”

Rosa took a deep breath. She was starting to look very pale again. Felindre climbed up on the bed next to her, and took her hand.

“Barbra waited until I was just about ready to go home, and called me into her office. As soon as I set foot through the door I got jumped by those horrible dragons of hers, gagged and tied to a chair, before I could even squeak. And then I sat there, for ages, as she waited for everyone to go home and she could interrogate me in peace.”

The mood in the room was very serious. Morwen stepped closer to Richard. He took her hand. Rosa leaned into Felindre for comfort.

“She kept asking the same questions,” said Rosa shakily. “Kept asking who and what I was. Asking how I’d controlled all those people. And all I could tell her was that I didn’t know.

“I was really scared. She was really scaring me. She wasn’t shouting, she was quiet, but that was almost worse. And I couldn’t scream, because there was one of those dragons on me and I just knew it would hurt me if I made any noise. And she kept asking me questions, and I knew that I couldn’t answer, and sooner or later she’d get fed up and she’d hurt me, or do something horrible to me…”

Rosa’s voice dissolved into sobs and Felindre hugged her and shushed her, stroking her hair.

Morwen looked at Richard.

“You’re telling me that she’s still out there somewhere?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “But you’re safe here.”

Felindre gave him a dubious look. Morwen echoed it.

Richard continued:

“Barbra Allen has been on our watch list for a long time, longer than I’ve been with the Agency. We know she’s dangerous, but she keeps disappearing. She keeps a low profile though, in the past few years this is the first time she’s stepped out of normal life and done something unusual. So we’ve been mainly content to let her be. But not now. We need to know what she’s up to, who she works for. Which means that the Agency will be looking for her, and they’ll take her in. And you’ll be safe.”

Felindre didn’t look all that reassured.

“You mean to tell me,” she said, “that this woman is expert at dropping out of sight, and getting up to God-knows-what dodgy-ness, and the Agency have let her kidnap and threaten people?! Why should we stay here in that case?”

It was Rosa’s turn to shush Felindre.

“It’s ok,” she said. “I trust Richard. If he says we’re safe, I believe him.”

“Well I don’t,” retorted Felindre⁶⁹.

“You’re free to go at any time,” said Richard. “But I really do think you’d be safer here than at home.”

Morwen looked around the room, at Rosa’s tired face and Felindre’s worried one. And she made a decision.

“No, we can’t go home,” she said. “But we’re not staying here either.”

___

⁶⁹ Always knew she was the sensible one in that relationship.

(Vegetables) Chapter Twenty Four: Office Politics Have Gotten Out Of Hand

There was a light on at the end of the corridor, directly above Rosa’s office. It was coming from another office, this one a lot smaller, with a glass panel in the door with gold writing on it.

By unspoken agreement the two moved as quietly as they could towards it. Soon they were close enough to hear voices from behind the door, and read the gold letters, which said “B. Allen. Editor-in-chief, the Weekly Bugle”⁶⁵.

Hunkering down low, they crept to the door and peeked through the window. What they saw had Felindre balling her hands into fists, and Morwen grabbing her to stop her from charging headlong into the room.

It was a normal office. Desk, chairs, computer, paperwork, framed thingys on the walls, neglected pot plant⁶⁶, the works. What wasn’t so normal was the large numbers of gold oriental dragon statues on every available surface, one even perched on Rosa’s shoulder. Or, for that matter, the fact that Rosa was tied to an office wheely chair, while Barbra Allen yelled at her.

Morwen and Felindre ducked down under the window again.

“We need a plan,” hissed Morwen.

“Stuff that!” retorted Felindre. And before Morwen could grab her, she was standing up and throwing open the office door.

“What do you think you’re doing to my girlfriend!” she shouted.

“Fel, no!” yelled Rosa.

And then all hell broke loose.

Suddenly, all those dragon statues stopped being statue-like and burst into jerky, mechanical action. Several of them jumped at Felindre, who didn’t waste time screaming, and dodged. Several more ran towards Morwen, who did waste time screaming, before kicking at them, with limited success. One went flying, while another started climbing her leg, driving sharp claws into the fabric of her jeans. Another leaped from the doorframe and landed on her shoulder. She brushed at it frantically, but only managed to hold it away from her neck.

Felindre was faring better, though I’m sure her martial arts training never expected facing a swarm of foot high mechanical creatures. Still, she was giving a good show for herself – there was one moment when she used one dragon as a bat to hit another one across the room, where it crashed into the pot plant and fell off the shelf to the floor⁶⁷.

It was a lopsided battle though. It only took a few minutes before Felindre and Morwen were surrounded and completely out-gunned⁶⁸.

Barbra simply stood by Rosa’s chair, and watched.

Morwen could feel sharp claws against her neck and ribs, try as she might to dislodge the half a dozen dragons swarming over her. Her arms and legs stung from the scratches inflicted by little brass claws. Felindre was free of them, but was tiring. Her hands were bleeding where they’d connected with the hard metallic bodies. Her boots weren’t in much better shape.

Morwen took a breath to scream as she felt the claws around her throat tighten.

There was a bright flash, and a series of thuds as all the dragons fell to the floor and lay motionless.

A look of shock and horror crossed Barbra’s face.

“What have you done?!” she screamed.

She put her hand on Rosa’s shoulder and started to squeeze. Rosa cried out in pain.

“They’re only stunned!” cried Morwen quickly, lying through her teeth because she had no idea what had happened. “Stop hurting her!”

“I will break every bone in her shoulder,” threatened Barbra.

Felindre scooped up one of the fallen dragons and held it up.

“And I’ll start taking your toys apart, one by one” she said, idly swinging it back and forth.

Barbra watched the swinging dragon like a hawk.

“Fine,” she said, and squeezed harder.

Rosa screamed. Felindre threw the dragon as high and as hard as she could. It bounced off the ceiling and came down towards the desk, hard and fast.

Quick as a flash, Barbra let go of Rosa and caught the dragon.

“Quick!” yelled Morwen.

And she grabbed the wheely chair that Rosa was tied to and started running and pushing it down the corridor. Felindre scooped up another frozen dragon and ran alongside her.

It was an odd race, through the corridors. Rosa called out directions while Morwen pushed, and Felindre kept pace behind, running backwards to watch Barbra Allen, and swinging the dragon by its tail.

“There! The lifts!” Rosa gasped.

Morwen frantically stabbed the lift call button repeatedly.

“Hurry up!” she cried.

Felindre and Barbra were in a standoff while they waited for the lift.

“Give me my dragon,” hissed Barbra.

“No,” said Felindre. “Whoops, nearly dropped it there!”

Barbra lunged forward, but stopped when Felindre balanced on one foot and held the dragon up by her fingertips in front of her.

“Did I tell you I played rugby for the England team?” she said conversationally. “Come any closer and we’ll find out how aerodynamic these toys of yours are.”

The lift dinged behind her. Morwen pushed Rosa and the chair into it.

“Come on Felindre!” she yelled.

Felindre backed carefully into the lift. Just as the doors began to close she drop-kicked the dragon down the corridor, straight at Barbra’s head.

As soon as the doors were safely shut, she swore and shook her foot.

“Ow, ow, ow! My foot! Christ, that hurts!”

“Help me get Rosa free!” Morwen ordered.

“You never told me you played rugby for England, Fel,” Rosa said.

“I lied,” mumbled Felindre, quickly untying Rosa’s ropes.

Rosa freed, the lift opened on the ground floor, and all three women raced across the lobby to the main doors. Frantically they pulled at the handle, but the door wouldn’t open.

“Crap,” said Rosa, frantically patting her pockets. “Where the hell is my pass!!”

The second lift dinged, and the doors opened. Morwen watched in horror as Barbra started running towards them.

Felindre took a step forward and raised her hands in a guard position, ready to fight. There was a beep and the doors fell open. Morwen grabbed Felindre and pulled her bodily through the door.

No sooner were they through the door when they stopped, blinded by a bright light shining straight at them.

“Stop, police! Hands up!” came a voice through a loudspeaker. “The building is surrounded!”

Cautiously they put their hands up. A group of heavily armed and armoured men dressed in black rushed past them, while another few men in police uniform escorted them away from the main door.

They were taken aside to where police cars and a SWAT van had formed a rough cordon. There were plenty of people behind the police tape, craning their necks to see what was going on, kept under control by police officers.

“Morwen!”

It was Richard, who came running towards them.

“God, am I glad to see you! Are you ok?”

Morwen nodded, seemingly too shocked to speak. Rosa spoke for her.

“Was this all you?” she asked, waving a hand at the SWAT van, the search lights, the squadron of low flying ducks and the police cordon.

Richard nodded.

“Sorry it took me so long to get here,” he apologised. “But the operation was scheduled for tomorrow night, so I had to pull a few strings.”

“I think we’ll forgive you, this time,” said Rosa. And then she fainted.

___

⁶⁵ The letters for the name were a lot newer and shinier than the rest.
⁶⁶ This one was unlikely to be getting any help or watering from Morwen tonight.
⁶⁷ The dragon wasn’t damaged. The pot plant was not so lucky.
⁶⁸ Out-dragoned?

(Vegetables) Chapter Twenty Three: Breaking And Entering (Without A Carrot This Time)

The main door of the Weekly Bugle building was locked by an electronic card reader, and was brightly lit. It also had far too many people walking past it to be worth a breaking and entering attempt. That’s why the two women found themselves ducking under the car park barrier at the back, and wandering around a mostly empty car park, looking for open ground floor windows, or conveniently ajar doors⁶³.

The back of the building was built out of more prosaic brick, with the usual building accoutrements of drains and downpipes. It didn’t look as shiny, but it certainly looked more functional. There was a back door, but it too was locked, with the little black box of a key card reader next to it.

Morwen was looking around nervously.

“Well, I can’t see any CCTV cameras,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there…”

Felindre was scanning the building façade with a fierce intensity.

“There!” she said in satisfaction, and pointed to an open window on the second floor.

“How on earth are you going to get up there?” Morwen asked.

“Watch me,” she said, kicked off her boots and slung her bag across her back.

Morwen watched in amazement as Felindre took a run up, jumped and caught a drainpipe and started climbing up the wall, straight for the open window. She clung to the brickwork like a spider.

“Bloody hell,” she said to herself in amazement.

A human figure appeared silhouetted against the glass of the back door. Thinking quickly, Morwen grabbed Felindre’s boots and hurried toward the door, rummaging in her bag.

“Oh thank God,” she said, to the surprised looking cleaning lady who came through the door, cigarette in hand.

“I’ve only gone and left my house keys and my pass on my desk!” Morwen wailed at the cleaning lady. “You couldn’t let me in, could you?”

The cleaning lady blinked bemusedly a couple of times, then swiped the door open.

Morwen ducked through it quickly, thanking the woman profusely. Once inside she ran up the stairs to the second floor, peeking through the office door windows, looking for Felindre. Thankfully there was no one else around.

It took several long, scary minutes for Morwen to locate the office with the open window, and several more, even longer and scarier minutes before she saw Felindre’s head pop over the window ledge.

“It’s ok, it’s me,” she hissed at Felindre.

“Hellfire and damnation!” swore Felindre, also in a whisper. “You nearly gave me heart failure!!”

“Sorry!”

“Stop apologising and open the bloody window wider!”

There were another few minutes of muffled effort and then Felindre was sitting on the floor underneath the open window, breathing heavily. When she’d got her breath back, and put her boots back on, she fixed Morwen with a glare.

“How the hell did you get up here before I did?”

“Cleaning lady, and social engineering,” replied Morwen, shrugging. “Come on, let’s find Rosa and get out of here before someone who knows proper security procedures comes along.”




They found Rosa’s office, desk and mobile phone fairly easily. Sure, there was one hairy moment when they had to duck into a deserted office to avoid the cleaning lady.

“Oh God, I’m sure she’s heard us!” whispered Morwen, as the cleaning lady, plus her trolley, progressed slowly down the corridor towards them.

Neither woman dared breathe until she’d passed, then Felindre laughed out loud.

“Shhhhhh!” hissed Morwen. “She’ll definitely hear us!”

“She’s got earphones in,” said Felindre, quietly, but not whispering. “And the volume she’s playing her music, she’d not going to hear anything short of the fire alarm.”

Sure enough, now Morwen was listening for it, she could hear the tinny thump of music leaking out of the cleaning lady’s earphones.

Rosa’s office was large, and open plan, and entirely unremarkable, featuring, as most open plan offices do, large banks of filing cabinets, computers on each desk, and random piles of paper. There was a sad looking yucca plant on one desk. Morwen tutted in disapproval when she saw it.

“Dry as a bone,” she said, having tested the soil in the plant pot with her finger. “Back in a mo.”

She snagged a coffee cup⁶⁴ off a nearby table, nipped over to the water cooler to fill it up, and used the cup to water the poor, wilting plant.

“There,” she said in satisfaction. “I’ll have words with Rosa about it, when we find her. Any sign?”

Felindre had been roaming around the office, looking in all sorted of odd places.

“No, but I have found biscuits,” whispered Felindre, opening a large spotted tin. “Chocolate chip too – win!” Quietly she helped herself to a couple.

Morwen gave her a look.

“What?” mumbled Felindre around a mouthful of cookie.

“We’re supposed to be finding Rosa, not stealing biscuits!”

“Or watering plants,” riposted Felindre. “This is her office. There’s her desk. There’s her scale model of the Eiffel tower made out of paper clips. There’s her phone. She’s here somewhere.”

Morwen picked up Rosa’s phone and put it in her bag. She then spotted a framed photo of Rosa, Felindre and her on Rosa’s desk.

“Aw, look,” she said, passing it to Felindre.

As soon as Felindre’s hand touched the photo to take it off Morwen, the two gasped, and dropped the picture. It landed with a thud on the office carpet, but amazingly, given the aforementioned laws of narrative, the glass in the frame didn’t smash into several pieces with an accompanying crash.

Morwen looked at Felindre, who looked back at her.

“You felt that too,” said Morwen. It was a statement, not a question.

Felindre nodded, looking worried.

Without any further conversation, the two turned as one, and headed out the door of the office, heading for the stairs.
___
⁶³ There weren’t any.
⁶⁴ Featuring the time honoured slogan of “You don’t have to be mad to work here… but it helps!”

(Vegetables) Chapter Twenty One: Where, Oh Where Has Rosa Gone?

Morwen was working late that Friday night, re-potting seedlings in the park green house. She was due to meet Richard later on that evening, and figured it was hardly worth going home, only to come back into town later. The park office building was well stocked with all that was needed for the hard-working gardener, including changing rooms and showers. Plenty of space, and at that hour, privacy to shower and get the compost out from under your fingernails⁶¹.

Morwen’s phone rang – “Come on baby, light my fire”. It was Felindre.

“Hey,” said Morwen, “how’s tricks?”

“You haven’t seen or heard from Rosa, have you?”

“Not since this morning,” Morwen replied. “She went to work as normal, why?”

“She was supposed to be meeting me at yours after work, but she hasn’t shown, and she’s not answering her phone.”

“She’s not answering her phone?” Morwen was shocked. Rosa was so attached to her phone that she’d need surgery to put it down.

“I’ve been to the house, but there’s no one there. It’s not like her!”

Felindre was sounding worried, very unusual for her. Her normal attitude was to take life by the scruff of the neck and shake it until it coughed up what she wanted⁶².

“Ok,” said Morwen calmly. “I’m at work. By the time you get here, I’ll have cleaned up, and we can head round to Rosa’s office, just in case anyone’s still there who’s seen where she’s gone off to.”

“Right,” said Felindre. “I’ll be with you in about twenty minutes.”

Morwen hung up, put her tools away, and went to get changed.

Twenty four and a half minutes later, Morwen was standing outside the main park gate, waiting for Felindre. She’d tried texting Richard about the change of plans, but her phone was still acting up, so she had no idea if he’d got the text or not.

She stared suspiciously at the pigeons that were wandering around. One of them stared back at her a moment, then went back to pecking at the ground. A duck wandered up and looked at her, then lunged at the closest pigeon. The entire flock of pigeons took off, and the duck looked smug.

“Thanks,” said Morwen. “I’ll bring you some mealworms tomorrow.”

There was enough early evening foot traffic on the path so that she didn’t see Felindre straight away.

“I’ve tried phoning Rosa half a dozen times,” announced Felindre, as soon as she got close enough for Morwen to hear her. “Nothing.”

“I’ve tried too,” said Morwen. “It keeps going to voicemail - so it’s not just you.”

“Not that I think she’d be avoiding you!” she continued hurriedly.

Felindre bit her lip.

“Let’s go to her office.”

“Maybe her phone battery’s run out,” offered Morwen hopefully as they walked quickly down the street. “Or maybe she’s caught up in a meeting and has forgotten the time?”

Felindre shot her a look.

“Morwen, I know you’re trying to be comforting,” she said. “But please stop.”

They walked on in silence for a few minutes.

“Felindre?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you do me a favour and text Richard to let him know where we’re going? He’s supposed to be meeting me in half an hour.”

“Don’t tell me super-phone is on the blink now,” said Felindre.

“No, but I never can get it to call or text Richard. It just doesn’t like his number for some reason.”

“I wonder why,” muttered Felindre. Then, louder, she said “yeah, no problem.”

___

⁶¹ Occupational hazard. For Morwen, manicures were things that happened to other people.
⁶² To be fair, it was a strategy that seemed to work.

(Vegetables) Chapter Twenty: Finally, We Get Some Explanations (Of A Sort)

“Barbra’s not happy with me,” said Rosa, in the kitchen after they’d seen to the wounded chicken.

“Why not?” asked Morwen. “Or should I ask, why now?”

“You know those carrot and orange fairy cakes that I brought home?”

“The ones not even the chickens would eat?” asked Richard.

“Yup,” confirmed Rosa. “Well, Barbra made them, and was really pleased when they all disappeared from the office kitchen. She wasn’t too happy when she saw the ones in the bin though. And she caught me shoving the others in a bag.”

Morwen was chopping carrots and potatoes for dinner.

“So I was thinking,” continued Rosa. “There’s a recipe in the book for artichoke and butterbean pie which says: for the removal of inconvenient memories. I was wondering if you’d make it for me, Mor, and I can give it to her and make her forget about the carrot and orange cakes. Whaddya think?”

“I don’t know, Rosa, I’m a bit nervous about mucking around with those recipes now I know what it is they actually do. Or think they do.”

Richard looked quizzically at Morwen.

“Are you suggesting,” he said, “that the reason people have been trying to get their hands on that book is because it’s full of the recipes for magic food?”

“Yeah,” said Rosa brightly. “Please Mor?”

“I need to think about it,” Morwen hedged.

“Pleeeeaaase?”

“I said I’d think about it! And don’t you even think about trying to make it yourself!”

“Ok,” said Rosa. Her mobile beeped, and she read the text message aloud.

“Your ruler Uranus joins with Mars to give you awesome willpower. You can shimmer magically this week. Now is not the time to make a fuss.”

She looked at the kitchen clock.

“Oooh, time for Feasts with Friends.” And she wandered off to the living room.

Richard watched Morwen as she put the chopped vegetables into a large saucepan. Her back was to him, and she looked a bit nervous.

“You ok?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said, without turning around.

“Been a bit of a weird few days,” he said, “what with the whole cake fight and attempted burglary and things.”

Morwen didn’t say anything as she put the saucepan onto the hob and turned on the electric ring.

“Morwen?” asked Richard.

“I want to tell you something,” she said. “I was just looking for the right moment.”

She looked at him then, an unreadable expression on her face.

“And there’s a lot of stuff we need to talk about.”

“True,” said Richard cautiously. “We did promise to be honest.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Thing is, that recipe book. The chocolate and beetroot cake I made a few weeks ago? I think I might have accidentally love potioned you.”

She looked really nervous.

“Is that all?” he asked, obviously relieved.

“Isn’t it enough?”

“Well, firstly, I don’t believe in magic. Secondly, it was a very nice cake, but I didn’t feel any different to you after eating it than before. And thirdly, you ate it too.”

“But you called me ‘love’ that night.”

“Did I? Oh.”

Morwen frowned.

Richard looked worried. “Did that freak you out?”

Morwen laughed. “I was half asleep, so no, not really. But I would like to know how you really feel about me.”

She bit her lip.

Richard stood up and walked over to her. He tilted her chin upwards gently, and kissed her.

Morwen’s phone rang, with an ear-splittingly loud call⁵⁸.

They both laughed.

“Now that’s how to ruin the moment,” said Morwen, smiling.

She reached for her phone, which cut off mid-ring.

“Unknown caller,” she said, looking at it. “If it’s important they’ll leave a message. Now, where were we?”

She was just about to kiss Richard again, when her phone rang again⁵⁹. It was another, or possibly the same, unknown caller, who rang off just as Morwen touched the phone.

“That phone just doesn’t like me,” said Richard.

Their third kiss was interrupted by the saucepan of potatoes boiling over.

“The world seems against us,” said Morwen. “Let’s save this for later. Besides, you’ve got to do a bit of explaining to me too.”

“You might not believe me,” warned Richard.

“Honey, after nearly being caught in a riot-slash-food fight, being threatened by a little old lady with a silver cucumber, and nearly being burgled by someone using a carrot as a lock pick, I don’t think there’s anything that could surprise me.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said. “Here goes: I’m not actually a computer programmer.”

“Oh,” said Morwen flatly. “That’s a real shock.”

Richard grinned.

“Stop being sarky,” he said. “I haven’t finished yet.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Morwen. “Please continue. Tea? Coffee?”

“Coffee please. I’m actually a secret agent. I work for the Agency, who are an organisation dedicated to protecting the vast majority of humanity from forces outside their knowledge.”

“Let me guess, aliens?”

“No,” said Richard. “Well, not often,” he amended.

“Monsters?” Morwen guessed.

“Occasionally,” he replied.

“Vampires?”

“No, they’re sulking at the moment, after the whole Twilight debacle. No self-respecting vampire will dare admit the fact now, just in case they get plagued by a load of teenage girls, all clamouring to see them sparkle.”

“Werewolves?”

“They’re in hiding because of the Twilight thing too. It’s a bit hard being a self-respecting creature of the night nowadays.”

“Zombies?”

“They prefer to be known as ‘metabolically challenged’. And they’re lying low too, too many people around whose first instinct is to go for the head when they see them.”

“Witches?”

“I think there’s one on staff in the New York office. Or maybe she’s just a hippy.”

“Ok, I give up,” said Morwen. “So, who do you defend humanity against?”

“Well,” said Richard, “it’s mainly little stuff. Stopping the turf wars between sheep and cows spilling out from the countryside. Keeping an eye on the mice, some of them have delusions of show business. But mainly it’s keeping track of those evil geniuses that insist on trying to take over the world.”

“Really?”

“Really. Thankfully most of them are cats, and even though cats make excellent evil geniuses, they’re far too thick to do any real damage. Plus, they’re lazy sods. No, it’s the human evil geniuses you really have to watch out for. My first introduction to the Agency was when I and some others got kidnapped by a part human, part clockwork evil genius, and wound up having to stop a giant, clockwork Valkerie from obliterating New York City.”

Morwen put a cup of coffee down in front of him.

“Ok,” she said slowly. “That is weird.”

“Told you,” he said.

“How come you’re telling me this anyway? Surely it’s all secret and stuff?”

“Well, yes, but I did promise to be honest with you. And you need to know there’s more to life than you’d think. Like those pigeons that were following Felindre around. They were working for someone, but I don’t know who. Though I have my suspicions.”

Richard paused for a drink of coffee.

“Besides,” he said, “we’ve pretty much got leeway to tell people if we think they need to know. Who’s going to go around blabbing anyway? People would think you’re nuts.”

“Yes,” said Morwen slowly, “they would, wouldn’t they?”

“Oh God,” said Richard, seeing the look on her face. “You think I’m nuts, don’t you? Hang on.”

He opened the back door, opened it and whistled. The chickens flocked around him.

“Ladies,” he said to them, “I’ve told Morwen about the Agency, and you know I am who I say I am. But I’m afraid she thinks I’m nuts. Any chance you could help convince her I’m not?”

There was a chorus of clucking, and some shuffling around.

“Please?” he said. “I’ll add an extra couple of perches and a new dust bath to your run.”

One hen, Kimberley, tilted her head to look him straight in the eye and clucked, then the rest of the flock wandered off again. Kimberley clucked at Richard again, and he stepped aside, waiting for her to come into the kitchen.

She stood on the step, waiting and looking at Morwen expectantly.

“Oh, alright,” said Morwen, catching on as both the hen and Richard looked at her, expectantly. “You can come in the house – just this once!”

Calmly the chicken walked into the kitchen and scratched at the floor.

Morwen looked on, completely bemused.

Kimberley scratched at the floor again, and looked at Richard expectantly.

“Oh, sorry,” he said. Then, to Morwen:

“Have you got any flour, or sugar, or something like that?”

“In that cupboard,” she replied, still watching the chicken.

“I’ll tidy up, I promise,” Richard said as he tipped a load of flour onto the floor.

The chicken pounced on it, and started scratching. After a few minutes of scratching and jumping back to look at the scratches, she clucked contentedly and walked out the door.

There were marks in the flour. They said:

“ricard AGencee man

“he gud

“mo trusst him”

Morwen just stared.

“Lovely birds, chickens,” said Richard. “Shame they can’t spell for toffee though.”

Calmly he swept the flour up off the floor and dumped it in the bin.

“You ok?” he asked Morwen, who was just staring at the floor.

“Yeah,” she said, looking up and giving him a faint smile. “You know, that explains an awful lot about the world. If humans are being manipulated by animals, it explains our messed up society and economy and stuff. ”

“No, sorry,” said Richard. “That’s all our fault. Though we can blame the ducks for the continued success of sitcoms. They’ve a funny sense of humour.”

“What about the rabbits?” asked Morwen.

“Pure, unadulterated evil, but not too bright,” said Richard. “Though we think the white rabbits have developed time travel, but have come unstuck in time for some reason.”

“Well, that explains the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland then. So, what’s the craziest case you’ve ever been on?”

“Well,” said Richard. “Aside from the Valkerie episode, there was the time that a magpie tried to steal the crown jewels. Painted herself completely black, and snuck into the Tower pretending to be a raven. Got all the way into the vault too, and would have got away with the crown jewels except for some reason she preferred the tinfoil one of the guards had wrapped around his sandwiches. And then there’s the snails.”

“What about the snails?” asked Morwen.

“We’re pretty sure they’re up to something, but we don’t know what, and they’re just so damn slow at doing anything. It could take years before we find out what the first step is. Of course, by then it might be too late.”

“I guess we’ll just have to be prepared to welcome our new mollusc overlords then.”

A funny look crossed over Richard’s face, as something he’d heard earlier made contact with his brain⁶⁰.

“What’s the name of Rosa’s boss again? The one she wants to do a memory spell on?”

“Barbra, why?”

“Barbara?”

“No, Barbra, definitely.”

Richard turned pale.

“Not Barbra Allen by any chance?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s her,” Morwen said. “Why?”

“Oh crap,” said Richard. “That is so not good.”

Morwen looked puzzled and worried.

Richard elaborated: “Long story short, chief henchwoman to previously mentioned evil genius with clockwork Valkerie.”

“Oh,” she said. “Arse. What are we going to tell Rosa?”

___

⁵⁸ A cross between an air raid siren, and a vomiting Apatosaurus.
⁵⁹ The ring tone this time was the unholy offspring of fire alarm and dubstep.
⁶⁰ Took long enough.

(Vegetables) Chapter Seventeen: Did You Know Carrots Could Be Used For That?

The chickens were restless that night. Rosa could hear them in their coop, rattling their beaks against the wire, even though it was dark.

She was going to roll over and go back to sleep, when she heard a loud, outraged squawking.

“Oh crap,” she said, sitting up in bed. “Fox!”

She poked Felindre, who was awake in an instant, and Morwen, who needed shaking. The three of them, armed with torches, went down to investigate. Felindre had her slingshot, Morwen her pitchfork. Rosa made do with the mop that lived in the corner behind the back door.

The only thing they saw was a rabbit, for a split second, before it bounded off into the hedge. Rosa threw the mop at it, but missed.

“Was it just me?” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Or was that rabbit glowing green?”

They all jumped a mile as a loud banging came from the front door. They ran through the house and threw open the front door, pitchfork and other weapons held ready for action.

Richard stood on the other side of the door, breathing heavily and looking dishevelled. He was holding something in both hands, pressed up against the wall next to the door. When he saw the three, he let go, and there was a muffled “oof” as something heavy fell to the ground.

“Er, hi,” he said, shuffling sideways to block the women’s view of whatever it was on the floor. “Everything ok?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” asked Morwen, trying to peer around him.

“Well, you did call.”

“No, I didn’t,” said Morwen.

Lights were turning on in the neighbouring houses.

Richard was looking really embarrassed now. From beside him came the sounds of someone trying to shuffle away quietly, and failing.

Felindre stepped out of the door and looked behind Richard.

“Richard,” she said. “Why is there a man with a carrot on the ground behind you?”

The man with the carrot scrabbled to his feet and started running down the street.

“I caught him trying to pick the lock on the front door.”

“With a carrot?” said Rosa incredulously.

Felindre pulled back on the slingshot, and fired. The young man fell over and yelled “Ow!”

Felindre casually walked down the road to the man and very casually dragged him back to the group.⁴⁹

“Hey, I know you,” said Morwen. “You were the policeman who came around earlier today, wanting to take my cookbook away.”

She looked at the scene – out-of-uniform policeman, looking even younger than before, still clutching carrot. Felindre, holding said out-of-uniform policeman (who was at least double her size) in a half Nelson. Richard, looking at the same time embarrassed and dangerous. And Rosa, wearing fluffy slippers, an open dressing gown and a very skimpy pink lace night dress. She sighed.

“I think you’d all better come inside,” she said.




They gathered in the living room, standing around the out-of-uniform-policeman as he sat on armchair.

“You,” said Felindre. “You’re not a real policeman, are you? Start talking.”

She crossed her arms and looked fierce.

The young man was alternating between rubbing his calf, where Felindre’s shot had caught him, and his shoulder, where she’d held him.

“That really hurt,” he said. “And it’ll bruise!”

Felindre glared at him and uncrossed her arms. He flinched back and said:

“Ok! Ok! No, I’m not a real policeman. And I had to get that book from you, one way or another. So when you wouldn’t give it to me, I had to break in and steal it. I wasn’t going to hurt anyone or anything. You’d never have noticed I was there! Honestly!!”

“Except my book would have been missing,” said Morwen.

“Well, yeah,” said the not-policeman.

“Why a carrot?” asked Rosa.

“I needed something to pick the lock.”

“Yes, but why a carrot?”

He shrugged.

“It was what I got given. And it was working too, until he showed up.”

And he shot a furious look at Richard.

“Believe me,” said Morwen quietly. “He’s got some explaining to do tonight too.”

“Who told you to get the book?” asked Felindre.

“I’d rather not say,” stammered the not-policeman.

Felindre flexed her fingers.

He swallowed, and went even paler.

“Rosa,” said Felindre calmy. “Be a sweetie and fetch the cheese grater.”

Rosa blanched.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice quavering. “That’s a bit, er, extreme...”

“Just do it,” ordered Felindre.

“Ok,” said Rosa, dubiously. She stopped at the living room door to shoot the not-policeman a look of pity.

“No! Wait!” he called. “It was Mrs K.”

He looked around at the blank faces around him. The women were definitely clueless, though Richard’s face looked more frozen than not understanding.

“Mrs K?” he prompted. “Little old lady? Black cane with a silver handle shaped like a cucumber? Smells of lavender? Seriously scary?”

“Oh, her!” said Morwen. “Yes, I know her.”

“She told me to get the book by whatever means necessary,” he continued. “Otherwise I’d be blacklisted in the Order, and I’d never be able to open my own shop. And she threatened to… er… take my rabbits away from me.”⁵⁰

He looked so woeful that Rosa started feeling sorry for him.

“Rabbits?” she said, coming back into the room. “How many?”

“Rosa, focus!” said Felindre. “He tried to break in and steal from us, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” muttered Rosa.

“I’m really sorry!” the not-policeman wailed. “But my dad would be so disappointed if I got black-listed – the family’s been part of the order for generations!”

“What order?” asked Morwen.

“The Most Ancient and Noble Order of Greengrocer’s,” sniffed the young man.

“I think I can speak for all of us when I say: the most ancient and noble order of what?” said Rosa.

“Greengrocer’s,” he said.

“Greengrocers?” said Morwen.

“Greengrocer’s,” he confirmed.

“Greengrocer’s what?” asked Felindre.

“Just Greengrocer’s.”

“How ancient?” asked Rosa.

“Founded in 1976,” he mumbled.

Everyone looked at everyone else for a moment.

“Look, can I go now?” the young man asked. “I promise I won’t come back ever again.”

“Richard, you keep an eye on him,” ordered Felindre. “Rosa, Morwen, with me.”

All three went out of the living room and shut the door. Richard and the young man stared at each other for a few moments.

“What’s Mrs K up to, and why is she so keen to get her hands on that book?” asked Richard, looming over the other man threateningly. “And why are the rabbits involved?”

“Honestly, I don’t know!”

Richard looked like he was about to resort to more hands on methods of persuasion when the door opened again, and the three women came in, looking determined.

Felindre was the first to speak.

“Against my better judgement, we’ve decided to let you go. But if we see you anywhere near us, or our house, ever again, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Fine by me! I think I’ve decided to change my career path. Maybe move to America and join an accountancy firm! Anything, just something somewhere a long way from here. You’ll never see me again, I promise!”

Morwen interrupted his babbling:

“Just one last question – if you’re not a real policeman, where did you get the uniform from?”

“From my cousin, he’s a strippogram.”⁵¹

Morwen sighed in exasperation, and Rosa looked dreamy for a moment. Felindre looked even more thunderous.
___
⁴⁹ Or as casually as was possible for a five foot tall, slender woman, to manhandle a man several tens of centimetres taller, and several kilos heavier. On a nonchalance scale of one to ten, I’d definitely have given it a seven, if not an eight (for sheer style)
⁵⁰ He said this in a tone of voice that suggested that what he was saying was in fact a euphemism, and the reality possibly involved boiling.
⁵¹ Well, that explained the tightness of the trousers.

(Vegetables) Chapter Sixteen: Why It’s Always Vital To Read The Small Print

“Just what’s so special about this book anyway?” asked Felindre as she idly flicked through the pages. “Lots of pictures of fruit and veg, some instructions on how to grow them, and a pile of recipes, most of which look pretty old-fashioned to me. And the title’s got a grocer’s apostrophe in it. Actually, most of the recipes have grocer’s apostrophes in.”

“Probably why it was in the remainders store,” said Morwen, hands wrapped around a huge mug of tea. “A stupidly large number of people seem to want to get their hands on it though.”

“Thankfully they all seem a bit rubbish,” remarked Rosa, eating a biscuit.

“Yeah,” said Felindre. “It’s a shame you didn’t get the name of that policeman. I’d take great pleasure in re-educating him in the finer points of property law and the receipt of stolen goods.”⁴⁶

She looked fierce. Rosa smiled indulgently.

“Ah, there’s my fierce pedant,” she cooed.

“Shut up,” said Felindre, smiling.

Something had caught Morwen’s eye, and she pulled the book towards her. Underneath the title of each recipe was a faint line of grey text in italics. She flicked through the book until she found the recipe for leek, potato, root vegetable and ginger casserole.

“Look at this,” she said, and read out the recipe sub-title: “For provoking a temper.”

“And this;” she flicked to the page for carrot and orange fairy cakes.

“For weakening the will.”

“And this;” at the chocolate and beetroot cake.

“For encouraging loving feelings.”

The three girls stared at the page for a few minutes.

“Holy crap,” said Rosa. “It’s a book of magic recipes!”

“Don’t be daft,” said Felindre. “It’s a vegetable cookbook, with three recipes for cabbage surprise.”

“Three?” said Rosa, turning the pages.

“Yes,” said Felindre. “One recipe is for, um,” she scanned it quickly, “bubble and squeak, basically. Another is an entire dish made of cabbage.”

“That’s not much of a surprise,” said Morwen.

“I suppose the surprise is that it’s all cabbage,” replied Felindre.

“What’s the third recipe?” asked Rosa.

Felindre flicked though a few more pages.

“Chilli con carne,” she replied. “Strange, for a vegetable cookbook, but hardly magical.”

“No,” said Morwen. “Don’t you see, it makes sense. The leek, root veg, potato and ginger casserole – remember, everyone got all cross after just a taste.”

“That’s because it was horrible,” muttered Felindre.

Morwen pointedly ignored her.

“And the carrot and orange fairy cakes. Rosa, you were telling everyone who had one to buy more copies of the paper. And they did! And they listened to you, even in the middle of a food fight when you told them to stop. And when you yelled ‘run’ everyone did!”

A thought struck her, and her face fell.

“Oh bugger,” said Morwen.

“What?” asked Rosa, looking worried.

“I think I might have accidentally love potioned Richard with the chocolate and beetroot cake.”

“Nevermind,” said Felindre casually. “From the sounds coming out of your bedroom recently, he’s not complaining.”⁴⁷

Rosa burst put in giggles, and Morwen threw a biscuit⁴⁸ at Felindre, who dodged.

Rosa stopped giggling and looked thoughtful.

“I’ll bet we could make a menu from this book that’d win us Feasts with Friends,” she said.

Morwen and Felindre looked at each other in horror.

“Oh God, no!” said Felindre.

“But...” said Rosa.

“No,” said Morwen firmly. “And if you even think about putting our names in, I’ll make you live on your own cooking for a month.”

“Oh, alright,” said Rosa sulkily. “Still think it’s a good idea though...”

She trailed off, seeing the look on the other’s faces.

“More tea anyone?” she said brightly. “Or some more biscuits? I’ve got some fig rolls somewhere…”

___

⁴⁶ Felindre, as well as being a double bass playing, marital arts studying astrophysicist had a side obsession with the finer points of the law, to wit, what was legal when it came to certain… er… situations.
⁴⁷ As before, bleurgh.
⁴⁸ A rubbish one, not one of the chocolate ones. She does have principles.

(Vegetables) Chapter Thirteen: Reporting Back On A Curious Conversation With The Boss

Rosa was looking very green and worried going into work the next morning, so when Morwen got a text from her saying “Lunch? Important!!” she feared the worst.

They met at their usual place, a sandwich shop halfway between Rosa’s office and Morwen’s park. It was well situated, between a bakers and a greengrocers, both of which did a roaring trade.

Rosa was looking surprisingly calm, a fact which reassured Morwen no end. Sandwiches and cups of coffee in hand, they sat at a small table in the corner.

A gust of wind blew their receipt off the table and onto the road. Rosa grabbed it before it got too far. There was writing on the back of it, but Rosa scrunched it up into a ball without noticing it.

There was a sigh and a quiet pop from underneath the greengrocers shelves next door.

“It’s the damndest thing,” said Rosa, between bites of sandwich. “So there we all are, summoned into a meeting with Barbra at 9am precisely, no excuses, everyone has to be there. And we’re all looking at each other and thinking that that’s it, the paper’s going to be closed and we’re all going to be out of a job.

“And she walks in, and you can’t tell anything from her face, it’s like she’s completely frozen. And she looks at us all, and then she pulls this face. And it takes us all a good few minutes to realise that she’s actually, like, smiling.

“Turns out, even though we had a small riot on our hands on Friday, and it costs us a few hundred quid in damages, the paper’s been selling out everywhere all weekend. And orders for next week have been piling in. The subscription office’s answering machine was full when they got in this morning – all with new subscription requests.”

“That’s great!” said Morwen, idly kicking at a pigeon that had wandered too close. It didn’t look concerned.

“Isn’t it just! So everyone’s so relieved and we get a pep talk about continuing to build on our success and all that rot, and the meeting ends, but not before Barbra’s caught me and told me to come to her office for a chat.”

Rosa made air quotes with her fingers when she said “for a chat”. The effect was spoiled by the fact that she had a sandwich in one hand and a cup of coffee in another.

“Careful!” said Morwen, grabbing for some napkins as Rosa’s coffee threatened to spill everywhere.

“Sorry.... Anyway, I’m now freaking again, thinking that I must be for the chop, even if everyone else is safe, and I’m racking my brains, trying to think what it is I could have done. But took a deep breath, and went into her office.”

Rosa took another bite of sandwich.

“Well? What did she say?” asked Morwen.

“She tried to do a bit of chitchat, which was weird, ‘cause she’s never really cared about that before. Then she came out with the weirdest question. She wanted to know if it was usual for crowds of people to do what I told them. I said, yeah, right, if I had the power to make lots of people do what I wanted, why would I be working at the paper instead of sunning myself in the Bahamas? But she kept asking me about it. Eventually I blurted out that I had no idea, so it must have been something in the cakes. She went quiet for a minute, and asked me then what cake I’d brought to the cake sale, and where I’d got the recipe.”

“That’s odd.”

“I thought so too. But I couldn’t think of a reason why not to tell her. And knock me over with a feather, but she asked for a copy of the recipe. So I said I’d photocopy it for her. And that was it. At least I think she’s stopped thinking that I’ve got mind control powers or something.”

“Ok. That’s a bit bizarre. ”

“She’s a bit bizarre,” said Rosa. “Her office is absolutely full of little golden Chinese dragon statues, all in different positions. Freaked me out a bit, all those little golden eyes, staring at me.”

Rosa shuddered and nearly spilled her coffee again.

“Maybe I’d understand Barbra a bit more if I could cast her horoscope. I’ll have to ask her,” she mused.

“Well, that’s good news, if a bit weird,” said Morwen briskly. “Hopefully things’ll keep going well for the paper now.”

“Hope so,” said Rosa. “Eeek, look at the time! Got to run! See you later!”

Morwen was preoccupied as she walked back to her office. So she didn’t notice the little old lady with the ebony walking stick, who had been squeezing fruit at the greengrocers, turn to watch her as she walked down the street. Nor did she notice the pigeon hopping along the rooftops, following her.

(Vegetables) Chapter Eleven: Arguing With Technology Never Really Works, Trust Me On This

The technical lab was reached via a cupboard in the kitchen, which was secretly a lift down into an underground cavern, in that traditional secret lair sort of way. The lab itself was tucked into a corner of the echoing chamber, and looked like a normal technology design and build lab. There were lab benches, and spools of wire and soldering irons and miscellaneous electronic component boards. There were oscilloscopes and multimeters and other, stranger items that looked like they were formed when a vacuum tube factory exploded, or were the contents of a Steampunk’s props box. There was also a surprisingly large collection of cogs, gears and the other innards of clocks.

Another bench had trays of test tubes and glass flasks full of coloured liquids bubbling away. Next to it was a large cabinet-shaped instrument that hummed in a minor key.

The whole impression of barely contained technological chaos was somewhat ruined by the stuffed alligator that hung from the ceiling. Especially as the alligator was wearing a party hat and had a party blower hanging droopily from the corner of its toothy grin.

There was a flock of pink plastic flamingos in one corner too.

Sitting in front of a computer terminal was another man, this one with long, greasy, dyed black hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing a black t-shirt and with a spiked leather band around one hairy wrist.

“Raven,” said Richard.

The man quickly stabbed a few buttons on the keyboard, then swivelled around, the bearings on the office chair protesting. He had a straggly beard and his t-shirt bore the slogan “Keep Calm and Take Over the World”.

“Richard,” he replied.

“You’re sitting in my chair,” Richard told him. “Aren’t you supposed to be painting someplace foreign?”

“Nope,” said Raven. “Been chasing down the Ghost Bollard of Glasgow.”

“What?” said Richard.

“The Ghost Bollard of Glasgow. Appears in the middle of the road out of nowhere, right in front of a driver. Driver drives over it, it does no damage except pulling some random wires out from under the car and gives the driver a massive shock.”

“Did you find it?” asked Richard.

“Nope,” said Raven, swivelling in the chair. “I think it’s gone to Edinburgh for the Fringe.”

Richard sighed.

“Get out of my chair,” he ordered. “And stop using my computer to play Total Bioshock, or whatever shoot-em-up you’re playing at the moment.”

“Sorry, man, but you’ve got the best video card and processor in the place.”

“There’s a reason for that,” said Richard. “And that reason is not for playing computer games. Up.”

Raven quickly vacated the chair and watched as Richard took out Morwen’s mobile phone³³.

“What happened to that?” Raven asked.

“It got hit by lightning, and I don’t trust it.”

“Trust it? You don’t mean to say it’s still operational?”

“Well, its owner still uses it. Let’s see what’s going on.”

“Whatever, man, I’ve got to get back. Cakes to bake, fish to fry, evil geniuses to foil. Later.”

As Raven wandered off through the shelves of miscellaneous stuff and piled high boxes, Richard pulled a wire from a pile on the desk, connected one end to the computer and hunted in vain for a port in the phone to plug the other end into. With no success, because the cover had well and truly melted.

“Ok,” said Richard to himself. “Time to do this the hard way.”

He reached out and grabbed a pair of bolt cutters.

The phone immediately started ringing with a horrible electronic squawking , and at the same time the vibrate function buzzed so hard, the phone skidded off the desk and landed on the floor, where it promptly wedged itself under a filing cabinet. The ringing stopped.

Richard put down the bolt cutters and reached for the phone, and pulled. It was definitely stuck.

He sighed, went around the corner and came back with one of those pallet lifter things, which he stuck under one corner of the filing cabinet and pumped the handle. For each centimetre the filing cabinet was lifted, the phone vibrated its way further underneath it.

Finally the cabinet was far enough off the floor so that Richard could reach underneath and grab it. The phone was as far away as it could get, but was stuck in the corner, trapped between two walls.

Richard reached in, far enough to grab it. As his fingers closed around the plastic shell, there came a sudden smell of ozone and a flash.

Richard swore, and pulled his hand out from underneath the cabinet, which fell off the lifter with a crash. He swore even more when he looked at his hand, where the shape of the phone was carefully burned black into the skin of his palm. The skin had shrunk and cracked, and underneath it there was something moving and metallic.

“Damn damn damn damn DAMN!” he said, pretty quietly for someone who’d just had several thousand volts pass through their hand.

He rummaged around in a desk drawer, and came up with a first aid kit. Carefully, favouring his burned hand, he got out a scalpel, a bandage, and a pot of flesh coloured goo and lined them up on the desk.

He whistled a downward arpeggio in D major, and from behind a pile of vacuum tubes came a small, mechanical monkey, dressed in a little waistcoat and wearing a fez³⁴.

The monkey chattered at Richard, and between the two of them, they carefully removed the damaged skin from Richard’s hand, replacing it with a fresh covering of the goo and a nice clean bandage.

“Damn, that hurt,” said Richard.

The monkey looked sympathetic. Or as sympathetic as it could, given that it couldn’t really change its facial expression.

First aid, or repairs, or whatever it was, completed, Richard turned back to the filing cabinet, and levered it up again.

This time, instead of reaching in, he got down so he was at eye level to the phone.

“Ok,” he said. “Truce?”

“I’m not coming out until you put those pliers away,” said Sissy. “And I can’t believe you stole me! What sort of rubbish boyfriend are you?”

“I’m a very good boyfriend,” Richard replied. “I’m checking out things that are strange, to make sure that they won’t hurt my girlfriend.”

“Rubbish,” scoffed Sissy. “You’re just completely controlling and lacking in trust, that’s what I think. And after I was nice enough to send you Felindre’s address too.”

“Don’t know what Morwen sees in you,” Sissy continued, half to itself. “Must be that squishy human stuff.”

Then , louder: “Though you’re not entirely human either, are you?”

Richard really does turn an interesting shade of red when he’s emotional.

“I am a person,” he hissed. “And what I feel for Morwen is important!”

“Oooh, hit a nerve, have I?” Sissy retorted. “Shouldn’t have argued with her then, should you?”

“I was worried about her – something’s going on and I don’t want her to get hurt!”

“Um, Richard?”

This was from Tom, who had appeared behind Richard.

“Why are you talking to the filing cabinet?” Tom continued.

“I’m not talking to the filing cabinet!!”

There was an awkward silence. Tom looked around, and took in the lifter.

“Um, do you need a hand?” he asked. “Only the boss has called us both in to share what’s going on. Says our cases are linked somehow, and we need to figure out how before it all goes a bit tits up.”

Richard heaved himself up from the floor, favouring his injured hand.

“This isn’t finished,” he hissed at the phone underneath the filing cabinet. “You just stay there until I get back and we can have a proper chat.”

With a thump, he lowered the cabinet back to the floor.

Not much happened for a good fifty seven minutes. Yes, Raven came back to play his shoot-em-up game on Richard’s computer for a bit, then poked around the gizmos and do-hickeys on the desk, then attempted to move the filing cabinet, all the while watched by the mechanical monkey.

But the phone was long gone by that stage.
___
³³ Thieving sod.
³⁴ All he needed was the cymbals, and he’d have passed for an old-fashioned Victorian-style kid’s toy.