(Vegetables) Chapter Twenty Six: Time For A Holiday, If Those Pesky Cookbook Fanatics Will Let Us

Richard was not happy with the plan, but eventually he agreed to it. He did insist on driving them all back to their respective homes. He tried to insist that they all wait at Felindre’s flat while she packed, but one look from Felindre put paid to that idea.

He did hang around at the house while Morwen and Rosa packed a weekend bag (or in Rosa’s case, a weekend suitcase) and loaded all the chickens up in a chicken carrier.

“Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?” he asked Morwen, as they were loading bags and chickens into her car.

“I’m sure,” she said firmly. “You get your colleagues onto finding Barbra Allen – the sooner she’s found, the sooner we can get back to what passes for normal round these parts.”

Then she softened. To be fair, he did look worried for her. “I’ll let you know when we get there. And I will miss you.”

Richard smiled wanly, then fished a small velvet jewellery box out of his pocket.

“Open it,” he said, giving it to Morwen.

She held her breath as she did, then let it out with relief when she saw what was inside it. It was a pendant, on a gold chain. The pendant was a beautifully detailed gold and enamel ladybird.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Here,” said Richard, “let me help you put it on.”

He fastened the chain carefully around her neck.

“If you’re in trouble,” he said, whispering in her ear. “Pull the ladybird off the chain and let it go. It’ll find me and bring me to you.”

Morwen touched the ladybird gingerly, as if she had a real one hanging around her neck. Richard saw her hesitation.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “it won’t do anything except look pretty until it’s pulled off the chain.”

“Excuse me,” said a girl in a school uniform, carrying a tuba case on her back. “Are you moving? Only I wanted to ask about the chickens.”

“No, we’re just away for a few days,” replied Morwen. “What about the chickens?”

The girl looked nervous.

“I want to be a vet, y’see,” she said. “And I was thinking that maybe I could look after the chickens for you while you’re away – save taking them with you?”

“Are you offering to act as a chicken-sitter?” asked Richard, and laughed.

The girl blushed furiously, and cast a look at the open front door.

“Well, yeah,” she muttered. “You’d have to tell me how to look after them though. But I’d be really good!”

Morwen was looking at her closely. Under her scrutiny the girl was looking more and more nervous, and she kept looking back into the house.

“Weren’t you around a few days ago, collecting old cookery books for charity?” Morwen asked.

“Um, yeah,” said the girl.

“And didn’t I see you in Booktastic a week or so before that?”

“Um…. yeah,” said the girl.

Then her nerve obviously failed her, and she ran off down the street, tuba case bouncing on her back⁷⁰.

Morwen shrugged and settled the chicken travelling coop more securely in the car.

“Don’t worry girls,” she said. “We wouldn’t leave you behind on this trip.”

From inside the house came a crash and a shout of “Oi!” from Rosa.

Morwen looked at Richard, and they both ran into the house, through the kitchen and out the back door.

Rosa was already in the garden, trying to climb the back fence and failing⁷¹.

“Cheeky little bastard,” she gasped. “It was that not-policeman from the other night. Snuck in through the back door while I was upstairs. I caught him rifling through the cookery books, and then he nicked one and legged it!”

“Let me guess,” Morwen sighed. “He was after the art and science of veg cookbook.”

“Yes,” said Rosa as they walked back into the kitchen. “And it looks like he got it too.”

The bookshelf in the kitchen that held the cookery books was empty, its usual contents spilled on the floor. This was obviously the cause of the crash they’d heard earlier.

“Don’t be too sure,” said Morwen, as she started picking up the fallen cookbooks. After putting a few back on the shelf, she smiled triumphantly and held up the cookbook in question.

“I swapped the dust jackets,” she explained to the others. “Just in case something like that happened.”

“What did you swap it with?” asked Rosa.

“Your Feasts with Friends book,” said Morwen. “Sorry, but it was the only one with a dust jacket and the right size.”

“Awww,” said Rosa. “I loved that book. The pictures were great – always made me hungry.”

“I’ll buy you another copy,” said Morwen. “In the meantime, this had better come with us too.”

She tucked “The Art and Science of Fruit and Vegetable’s” under her arm and together they finished tidying away the other books.

“Mor, Richard” said Rosa after a minute. “I don’t think we should tell Fel that the not-policeman nicked my book. She might get a bit cross.”

They all took a moment to picture Felindre being a bit cross. It wasn’t pretty.

“I think you’re right,” replied Morwen.

Richard just nodded, grimly.



The car was just turning the corner when there was a small popping noise by the front door. A white rabbit, with a piece of paper in its mouth appeared, looked around, looked annoyed, and shoved the piece of paper through the letterbox before disappearing again with another pop.

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⁷⁰ There were some very faint, very irate squeaks coming from the case as she ran.

⁷¹ If anyone tries telling you that skinny jeans are active wear (and therefore suitable for climbing fences, or in fact, moving at anything other than a slow wiggle) don’t believe them.