Murder and Mittens

Chapter 5 – Jen takes a stroll

  Jen had decided to take advantage of the sunshine and get out of the house. This also had the benefit of her avoiding any chores and giving her a chance to smoke. She had stolen out through the kitchen. After a short walk, she had found herself in a garden. No flowers were growing there and she could see that it was a working garden, there were various vegetables and fruit; asparagus, spinach, cabbage, cauliflower and rhubarb, laid out in orderly rows. There was an elderly man working there. She nodded at him and he grunted back, not stopping his digging.

  She didn’t like to smoke over plants so walked round and out of the kitchen garden through an arch in the brick wall that surrounded it. She took the packet of cigarettes with a picture of camels on the front, how bizarre, and the box of matches from her dress pocket. She lit up a cigarette, and choked a little after the first puff. It was definitely not as smooth as the cigarettes she was used to.

  She wandered away from the garden and found herself near a large brick building. Peering inside, she saw a man in a chauffeur’s uniform, polishing an old fashioned black car. Straightening up, he saw her and beckoned to her. Jen came forward.

  ‘Did you want something from your employer’s car?’ he asked. He had a soft Scottish accent and close to, Jen could see that he was quite attractive, slim with wavy dark brown hair and dark eyes.

  ‘No, I just came out for a smoke,’ she confessed.

  His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

  ‘I don’t blame you. I could do with one, myself.’ He looked longingly at Jen’s cigarettes and Jen took out the packet and offered it to him.

  He shook his head, ‘better not while I’m working and I don’t want to use up all your cigarettes. It’s a long walk to the village shop to get some more.’

  ‘I don’t mind. Stops me smoking them all and my daughter is always nagging me to stop.’

  ‘You have a daughter?’

  Jen realised her mistake. ‘Not here, obviously.’

  ‘None of my business. But I’d keep quiet about it if I were you. They can be a wee narrow minded round here.’

  ‘I’m a widow,’ Jen said quickly.

  He looked at her hands. There was no ring on her left hand.

  ‘Then you’d better remember to wear a ring. The name’s Callum Fraser by the way.’

  ‘ Jane James.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Jane James. I’d better finish the car. Sir James wants it for this afternoon.’ He lovingly caressed the car. ‘The old buzzard has good taste in cars if nothing else.’

  ‘What sort is it?’ asked Jen, noting the comment about Sir James.

  ‘A Wolseley Hornet Special.’ He bent down and picked up a sponge, obviously dismissing her. As she left the garage, he called after her, ‘see you at lunch.’

  She turned back. ‘What time is lunch?’

  ‘Twelve o’clock on the dot. Don’t be late or Napoleon or Miss Tartar will have your guts for garters.’

  ‘Napoleon?’

  ‘Our beloved butler, Mr. Cook.’

  ‘And Miss Tartar?’

  ‘Mrs. Wagstaff. Don’t let her twinkle fool you. She’s a terror.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Jen said,

  ‘You do that, Jane James.’

  Jen left the garage smiling, finished her cigarette, stubbed it out on the garage wall and flicked the butt into a planter not far away. She carried on with her stroll.

  She was just thinking that this dream was strange in that you didn’t cut from scene to scene but moved into it like in real life, when she turned a corner and saw Etta in the distance.

  Etta came running towards her and Jen waited for her.

  ‘Mum, Mum!’ she called as soon she was within hearing distance. ‘You’ll never guess what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Miss Mittens is here!’

  ‘Miss Mittens?’

  ‘Yes, I just met her in the drawing room. She looks just like Gloria Hackett in those old black and white movies.’

  ‘You’ve just met Miss Mittens,’ Jen said slowly, trying to take it all in. ‘But that’s impossible, she’s not real.’

  ‘It is if we’re in a dream,’ Etta argued.

  ‘Yes but the thing is, Etta, I’m starting to wonder if we are in a dream. You say you’re having this dream, I think I’m having this dream. It’s pretty amazing for two people to have exactly the same dream, don’t you think?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Etta admitted reluctantly.

  ‘So, I’ve been thinking. Everything seems too real, too vivid, and too logical. Maybe we aren’t in a dream. Maybe this is real.’

  ‘No, Mum, I had a weird experience while you were running my bath. I looked in the mirror and it went funny and then I saw myself lying unconscious in a bed and then it flicked back to me sitting up in bed. That’s just how you expect dreams to behave.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Jen said, frowning. ‘That doesn’t happen in the real world.

  ’And how can this be real if Miss Mittens is here?’

  ‘Perhaps it’s a co-incidence, just an old lady that happens to have the name of Mittens.’

  ‘Yes, but I heard her say, she used to be the headmistress of a famous girls’ school. Wasn’t that what Miss Mittens did before she retired?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jen admitted.

  Etta was feeling quite crestfallen. She had thought that Jen would be ecstatic when she heard about Miss Mittens but here she was, denying her existence.

  ‘I wish you could meet her.’

  And in the next moment, her wish was granted. Miss Mittens came out of the front door and descended the steps.

  ‘Hello again,’ she called. ‘I must admit, I’ve been thinking that it looked so pleasant outside that I’ve been tempted to have a little stroll around the grounds myself.’

  She looked enquiringly at Jen.

  ‘Miss Mittens, this is my mo… maid,’ Etta said, narrowly avoiding saying ‘mother.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, my dear and your name is?’

  Jen tried to speak but couldn’t. She felt as if her tongue had swelled up and thoughts were racing round her head like hamsters on a wheel. This really was Miss Mittens. She sounded and looked exactly as she had always imagined her. There was a pause.

  ‘Mmmmm my name is Jane James,’ Jen stuttered at last.

  Etta wondered why her mother was now using her maiden name.

  ‘Do take your time, please and don’t hurry on my account. I hear that the best thing with a speech impediment is not to try to speak quickly,’ Miss Mittens advised. Then she asked Etta, ‘have you finished talking to Miss James or am I intruding?’

  Etta looked at Jen who nodded.

  ‘I think we’ve finished, haven’t we, … Jane?’

  ‘That’s right, Miss,’ Jen managed.

  ‘Lets take a little stroll then, shall we?’

  Etta nodded and they strolled off together. Jen watched them go. She was furious with herself, she had just met Miss Mittens and all she could do was to stammer like a star struck fan. And she had so many questions she wanted to ask Miss Mittens. Then it hit her. If Miss Mitten were here, did that mean that there was going to be a murder? Which, was not that great if it was all a dream but very worrying if it really were real.