The Episode After

Subtitle: A teatime to remember

I regained consciousness several minutes later, whereupon I discovered Tarquin’s lips firmly affixed to my neck.

‘Save that for later, ‘ I murmured blearily, ‘we’ve got work to do.’

‘I’m making sure that all the poison in the dart that struck you has been sucked out of your neck’ he replied.

‘Yeah, I bet you say that to all the girls. Besides, it’s rude to talk with your mouth full.’

‘Well, Tarquin, I think it’s safe to say that there will no lasting after-effects’ said Jonathan, as he returned bearing a large silver tray. ‘Time for a spot of tea, wouldn’t you say?’

Tarquin and I stared at him in thinly disguised amazement, whilst gesticulating wildly at the wreckage around us.

‘Are you sure that’s entirely wise Jonathan?’ I ventured. ‘Given the events of the past half hour, I’d say we had quite a bit of work to be getting on with.’

‘Oh, quite so dear thing’ beamed Jonathan affably, ‘but we’ll all work a lot faster with the aid of a nice cup of tea.’

‘Oh… err… yes, I suppose we will’ I said, fairly nonplussed by this point.

Lowering his voice to a hoarse whisper, he explained further. ‘The Cosa Nostradamus are still outside, so if we act naturally, they won’t suspect a thing. I sent for the police, they should arrive very shortly.’

Sure enough, as soon as we’d started tucking into the fruitcake and chocolate digestives, the local police screamed to a halt outside.

‘Sorry about that, I really do need a new bike,’ announced PC Roger Plimsoll, as he strode into the house.

Jonathan jumped up to greet him and apprise him of the situation, using rather extravagant hand gestures for one who’d spent most of the time unconscious underneath his desk. I strained to hear the conversation, but only managed to catch the odd word or two, as I was too far away. The words in question were conservatory, lead piping and Colonel Mustard, but I digress. Tarquin, meanwhile, had noticed the chanting (which was still going on) and was tapping on the walls, looking for all the world like a woodpecker with Parkinson’s disease. I wandered over and politely asked him just what the jeff he was doing.

‘Just checking for hollow spots,’ he replied eagerly. ‘I saw someone do it on an episode of Dempsey and Makepeace once and thought it might lead us to a secret passage or something.’

I made a mental note to myself to restrict his TV viewing (and consumption of Famous Five books – just in case) before joining in with gay abandon. In fact, we were so engrossed in our task that we completely failed to notice that PC Plimsoll had sneaked up behind us, after whipping out his truncheon and giving poor Jonathan a good going-over.

‘Ah, if I’m not mistaken, you’re looking for the entrance to the Chapel of Our Lady of Basingstoke,’ said a rather too-familiar voice.

Tarquin and I whirled round to find ourselves face to face with none other than Obadiah Sleaze, who was holding his policeman’s mask in his left hand.

Ever observant, I nudged Tarquin and murmured, ‘I think we might be in trouble here. Do you think we should resort to plan B?’

‘What’s that?’ replied Tarquin.

‘Usually, crying and begging for mercy, but if you notice, he’s left an unguarded area right between his…’

Before I could finish my sentence, Tarquin had given Mr Sleaze an almighty kick in his groin and whilst he was doubled over in agony, we made our escape.

‘I was going to say between his eyes, for heaven’s sake!’

‘Stop complaining, it got us out of here, didn’t it?’ yelled Tarquin, barely audible over Sleaze’s groaning.

Jonathan was just coming round as we reached the door, so I grabbed his hand and dragged him with us as we sped along the hall towards the kitchen. Unfortunately the kitchen door was locked, blocking our escape route. After screaming incoherently with rage (I mean, honestly, who on earth locks their kitchen door these days?) we had no option but to turn round and run the other way, back towards the front of the house.

As we did so, a large sinister black van hove into view. The side door opened and two extremely large men, holding extremely large guns beckoned us inside.

More of which next time.