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Inquisitive Bert
A Short Story
by trove flacy
Bert had always loved rambling Fish Inn with its boiled boarders. It was a place where he felt happiness.He was an inquisitive, depressed, tea drinker with skinny ears and tall sheep. His friends saw him as a moaning, mashed monster. Once, he had even saved a nasty old lady that was stuck in a drain. That’s the sort of man he was.
Bert walked over to the window and reflected on his brooding surroundings. The rain hammered like jumping dog.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Mater . Mater was a bigoted flower with attractive ears.
Bert gulped. He was not prepared for Mater.
As Bert stepped outside and Mater came closer, he could see the lovely smile on her face.
Mater glared with all the wrath of 1553 honest hilarious hippo. She said, in hushed tones, “I hate you and I want information.”
Bert looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the new-fangled car. “Mater, I own the inn,” he replied.
They looked at each other with annoyed feelings, like two delicious, damaged donkey laughing at a very free house sale, which had piano music playing in the background and two sanguine uncles shouting to the beat.
Bert regarded Mater’s attractive ear. “I feel the same way!” revealed Bert with a delighted grin.
Mater looked puzzled, her emotions blushing like a loud, little letter box.
Then Mater came inside for a nice cup of tea.
THE END
FLACY TROVE COMMENT
“What on earth do you mean, Bert?” asked Mater. She sounded a tad irritated and stared at Bert intently for a few moments. “Are you losing your mind perhaps?” she said in a more conciliatory tone.
Bert glared at her. “YOU know, Mater. If anyone knows it is MY inn, it is you.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about!” said Mater backing away from Bert nervously. “And you will have to excuse me but my bladder calls!” And Mater sprinted inside at great speed. Faster than the speed of light, said Devan later when he recounted the story to Prune.
“The inn is mine and you can’t sell it!” shouted Bert after Mater’s retreating back. He grabbed the FOR SALE sign and threw it violently into the bushes.
“She found the entrance, you say?”
“I am afraid so. I am sorry indeed to say that this is the case.”
“How could she have found the way in? Where were the guards? And who is she who would dare to enter the Doline?”
“It’s been so long … I think the guards got lazy. And who can blame them … so many years they stood at their post and nobody even trying to find the way in. I think they got tired of waiting for something to happen. And as to who it is … all I have heard is she is a traveller and not anyone from the Village. A traveller from far off parts, I have heard.”
“Dearie me … always the way, isn’t it? Heads are going to roll of course and I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes. What’s going to happen now?”
“It’s very hard to get someone out once they have found the way in. That’s a well known truth.”
“It is indeed. Indeed it is.”
“… the mansion to yourself? Don’t forget the journalists and the documentary movie, Godfrey,” said Finnley with a smirk.
Glynnis felt a little overwhelmed; so many strange people after all the years of virtual solitude. She was happy to busy herself making juices in the kitchen.
The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
Margoritt showed Glynis to a small area, partitioned off from the main room; a narrow bed, a tiny window to the outside and and a simple wooden shelf.
“You’ll be wanting some privacy,” she said. “And something dry to wear,” she added, handing Glynis a dress, plain in shape and made from a soft woven fabric, pearly spheres woven into a dark purple background.
The second person to give me something to wear, she mused.
The fabric was amazing. It made Glynis think of stars at night and the way you could never see to the end of the sky. It felt both reassuring and terrifying all at the same time.
There is magic in the hands that wove this, she thought, hesitant though to voice her thoughts to Margoritt, however kindly she seemed.
“A master weaver has made this!” she said instead. “Was it you?”
“No, not I … but you are right, it was made by a master … as you can no doubt see, it doesn’t fit me any longer. I’ve had it sitting there going to waste for many years and am glad to put it to use. It doesn’t cover your head like the other did, but really there is no need here.” Margoritt smiled. “Go, get changed. Come out when you are ready and I will have some tea and cake for you. Then you can meet the others properly.”
“Is it okay? hissed Sunny in a loud whisper when they were alone, anxiously hopping from one foot to another.
“Yes, i think so … I’ve been very careful,” Glynis reached in her pouch and gently pulled out an egg.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it … almost golden… for sure it must be the gift the man from the market promised me in my dream … the way it just sat there on the path … lucky I did not stand on it.” She stroked the egg gently.
“Sorry about all this, little one,” she said softly to the egg. “I wonder what creature you are inside this shell … and what safe place can we hide you till you are ready to come out of there?”
“I can sit on it of course,” said Sunny. “It will be my honour and privilege to assist.”
“Ah, here you are at last,” said Margoritt to the rain sodden Glynis. “Come in, my dear, come in. Yes, yes, of course your parrot can come too. What’s his name? Sunny? Welcome, welcome … a little late, but in time nonetheless. I’ve been expecting you.”
“Jingle, where are you?” asked Finnley grumpily, peering into the darkness of the attic.
“Here”, hissed Jingle from behind some boxes. “Has that dreadful man gone yet?”
“Nope, still here. Drooling over Liz no doubt.”
“I won’t go back to my mother! That awful woman!”
“Well you can’t stay here so you had better go out the window.”
“What window? There is no window!” whimpered Jingle.
Oh for Flove’s sake! thought Finnley. No imagination. That’s her trouble.
Adroitly, she whipped out some power tools and cut a hole in the roof.
“There!” she said, taking a step back to survey her work. “A window. Now, off you go. And don’t come back.”
“Oh thank you, Finnley. You are wonderful!”
“I am, aren’t I,” smirked Finnley.
And after all, Liz didn’t even know she had an attic so she certainly won’t notice a window.
“Who’s been chucking stuff in the urn!?” grumbled Finnley. “Always someone messing things up round this place.”
She took the parcel and dumped it in the overflowing garbage bin.
Just in time for the rubbish collector, she thought with satisfaction.
“I had another vivid dream last night, Sunny. I dreamed of a man I met when i was selling my potions in the market place in town. He was chasing a little red fox and I gave him some potion … “
“You dreamed of a fox? That’s a very good omen and fortuitously also reminds me of a joke.
What do you call a fox with a carrot in each ear?
Anything you want as he can’t hear you!”Glynis smiled reluctantly.
“No, that’s what happened. I’ve not got to the dream part yet.”
“My apologies,” said Sunny, nudging her ear gently from his perch on her shoulder. “Please continue.”
“Anyway the man from the market came to me in my dream and thanked me. He said his wife was well now. He said to look for a gift in the heartwoods.”
“Excellent dream!” said Sunny. “I adore gifts. I will keep my eyes open and hope we find it poste haste. How much further is it now, anyway?”
“Another few days travel to the fringe of the heartwoods. According to the map, that’s where the first X is.”
They continued in silence, glad of each other’s company on the journey.
Glynis had been sad to leave the Bakers and more than a few tears were shed on parting They tried to get her to stay but it was without much conviction for Glynis had shown them the map and, though plain folk, they had sound instincts and knew when something had to be.
“Any time you want, Girl,” said Mr Baker gruffly, “you’ll find a home here. You hear me? And make sure you keep in touch.”
And Glynis nodded, unable to find the words to thank him for his kindness.
And Mrs Baker had made her a new burka. She’d stayed up nights sewing to surprise Glynnis. It shimmered, sometimes green and sometimes blue depending on where the light fell and it felt like silk to the touch. Glynis thought it was the most pretty thing she had ever seen.
“You’ve a lovely heart, Lass, and anyone who’s worth a penny will see that and not those scales on your face.”
It was the first time either of the Bakers had mentioned her appearance and for a moment Glynis was rendered speechless.
But not so, Sunny.
“Knock, knock!” he cackled loudly. “Oh come on! It’s a good one!”
“Who’s there?” said Glynis softly.
“Dragon!”
“Dragon who?”
“Dragon your feet again?”Finnley, who had also just then re-entered the room, saw her chance to not only get her own back on Godfrey and prove to him her meanness was not a facade, but also an opportunity to get some peace and quiet.
“Take those two,” she said, pointing towards Godfrey and Liz. “They are bound to know something.”
Godfrey paled and Liz let out a little gasp.
“Finnley, how can you do this!”
“Oh bugger it,” sighed Finnley, despondently wondering if she really was a nice person after all.
“She’s in the attic.”
“The attic? I didn’t know we had an attic,” exclaimed Liz. “How absolutely wonderful! I do hope you are keeping it clean, Finnley. Attics are notoriously bad for attracting dust.”
“That’s all very well and old books in a sack is one thing …,” began Inspector Melon.
“What are you doing back here, Walter? Didn’t you just leave a few minutes ago!” snapped Liz. “Can’t you see I am in the middle of a crisis … you never did have any sensitivity. If you’ve come to ask me to get back with you, then you are out of luck.”
Inspector Melon’s face reddened again, whether from embarrassment or frustration it was difficult to tell.
“The Jingly girl what’s missing. That tip I got said this was definitely the last place she was seen. Now, do any of you lot know anything about the lass or do I have to round you all up and take you to the station?”
All of a sudden, Godfrey flung the peanut butter jar he was holding to the ground where it smashed into dozens of glittering fragments.
“Silly me,” he said. “How clumsy! Clean that up will you, Finnley.”
Finnley glared at him, torn between annoyance at being treated as a mere cleaner and relief at having an excuse to leave the room and dispose of that darn sack, once and for all.
Common sense won. There is plenty of time to make him pay for that, she thought.
“Right you are, Sir,” she said, with an inadvertent roll of the eyes. “Right away, Sir.”
“Pssst Glynis, are you awake?”
There was no response so Sunshine, the parrot, leapt from his shelf onto the bed and nudged Glynis with his beak.
“Ouch! Sunshine!”
“I’ve got a joke for you. It’s a good one this time! You will be glad I woke you.”
Glynis groaned.
“What’s smarter than a talking parrot?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“Come on! you aren’t even trying!”
“Aargh. Most things are.”
“Oh how rude. You really aren’t at your best this hour of the night. It’s a spelling bee! Get it? A spelling bee. A bee that spells. Not that anything is really smarter than a parrot. Hmm maybe I should have let you sleep,” cackled the parrot.
“Extremely hilarious. Now be quiet, Sunny, and get some sleep. We have to get away extra early in the morning.”
“Watch yourself, Godfrey,” hissed Finnley menacingly. “I’ve already cleared up one little nuisance from round this place.”
Godfrey paled and took back the peanut butter jar which earned him a perfunctory nod from Finnley.
“Don’t hiss, Finnley,” admonished Liz sharply. “Speak up so that the whole class can hear.” She tittered and fluttered her eyelashes at Walter, unfortunately accentuating her lack of sleep and bloodshot eyes in the process.
“Yes, what DID you say, young lady?” asked Inspector Melon. He prided himself on being able to deduce that something suspicious was going on and nothing, the considerable charms of Elizabeth Tattler notwistanding, was going to divert him from his duties.
“What’s all this racket?” demanded Liz. She stopped in her tracks staring in amazement at Inspector Melon.
“Walter???”
“Oh my … Liz???” The colour had drained from Inspector Melon’s plump red face.
“Okay, well I will leave you to it,” said Finnley making a hurried retreat.