“Non! Non! Definitely non!”
When Mirielle was in this mood there was no arguing with her. Despite this, however, her husband, Septimus, attempted to do just that. “Well, I didn’t think…” he began.
“You never do,” broke in Mirielle. ” Whatever gave you the idea that I would be happy to bring my children up in a house with some mad old Swedish goblin skulking about at all hours?”
“He’s not a goblin, he’s a tomte, and he doesn’t skulk.”
” Pah! Goblin, tonto, they’re all the same. We will wake up one morning and find our babies have been kidnapped and spirited off to who knows where. That is not going to happen. We will stay living in the dance studio until we can find somewhere that doesn’t have a mad tonto terrorising the neighbourhood.”
Septimus sighed. He knew when he was beaten.
*****
“I’m getting too old for this,” groaned Bartholomew Middlestreet, heaving a barrel across the cellar floor of The Squid and Teapot. “I don’t know how I would have managed to have shifted this lot on my own. I’m really grateful for your help, Rhys.”
Rhys Cranham grinned. He was half of Barthlomew’s age, and these barrels were child’s-play after his years of working as the island’s Night-Soil Man. “It’s little enough to do, after all that you and Ariadne have done for Philomena and me,” he said.
It was true enough. The Middlestreets had given the newlyweds a home after Philomena, like Mirielle, had declined to share a cottage with the tomte.
*****
“I don’t understand it,” said Ariadne Middlestreet, later that evening. “If I had been Philomena or Mirielle, I would have jumped at the chance of moving into the Blomqvist cottage. By all accounts that tomte creature has kept it spotless for all these years, ever since Mr Blomqvist died.”
News travels quickly on the island of Hopeless, Maine.
Bartholomew, nodded. “And for nothing more than a bowl of food every night,” she added. The innkeeper paused and eyed his wife quizzically. “Would you really want to move from The Squid?” he asked, at last.
“It would be strange, after all this time,” she admitted. “But it’s a lot of work, even with Philomena’s help. Why do you ask?”
“Well, we’re not getting any younger,” said Bartholomew. “Maybe it’s time for a change.”
*****
“But there has been a Middlestreet running The Squid and Teapot for the last hundred years,” protested Philomena Bucket, when Ariadne related the conversation to her. It was late, and they were preparing starry-grabby pies for the following day.
“And before that there were the Lypiatts, and before them, more Middlestreets, with a nasty little man called Thrupp in between. Everything changes, eventually, Philomena.”
“But I can’t imagine The Squid without you and Bartholomew. Besides, who would take over?” “We thought that you and Rhys might be keen… ” She let the words hang in the air, and watched the gamut of emotions cross Philomena’s face.
“But..but.. I… we could never…” she spluttered.
“Yes you could,” said Ariadne. “And I’m sure that Reggie Upton would be more than happy to help.”
“I don’t know…” said Philomena, composing herself.
“You’ll be fine – and will be doing Bartholomew and me a good turn, We really need to retire.”
“I’ll need to speak to Rhys…”
“Bartholomew has already done that. Rhys said that the decision would be yours.”
“And Reggie?”
“I’ll leave you to talk to Reggie,” smiled Ariadne. There was the faintest flush to Philomena’s pallid face. “This is all so sudden,” she said.
*****
The following morning Philomena caught up with Reggie outside the dance studio, talking to Septimus and Mirielle.
“You’re just the man I’m after,” said Philomena brightly, ”unless I’m interrupting something.”
“Not at all m’dear,” beamed Reggie. “I’m just off to do a spot of flaneuring.” This was Reggie’s way of saying that he was simply going for a walk.
“Pah! You are no flaneur,” said Mirielle, mischievously. “Charles Baudelaire was a flaneur, and you are certainly no Baudelaire.”
“You are perfectly correct, dear lady,” said Reggie, with a mock bow. “I confess, I have never been a syphilitic opium-addict, so you have me there.” The old soldier winked at Mirielle, then turned his attention to Philomena. “And now, m’dear, what can I do for you…?