Chapter 2: Misty Bottom Blues

Where we find out that a little bit of Onkyye* goes a long way

Lady Mirabelle is known for her significant looks, which could change the weather. Here, she is wearing her famous velvet broccart cape from Paris.

Lady Mirabelle hurried to find out exactly what mischief had befallen Daisy Feathertip. Like a second unwelcome shadow Audrey accompanied her, a tickertape of rising speculation. Now Audrey wasn’t a bad person, far from it, she was generous to a fault. Unfortunately, that fault being an over generous sharing of pond side tittle tattle, and largely imagined salacious goings on in the community.

‘I heard wailing your Ladyship, terrible wailing, fit to fright even a ghostie. And smashings and breakings, and ... rude words being shouted. Do not please ask me to repeat them your Ladyship.’

Lady Mirabelle had absolutely no intention of doing so.

‘Unless you insist of course,’ said Audrey, with just a hint of expectation. ‘Very rude, some I’ve never heard before. Maybe not rude at all, who am I to say.’

‘Or I,’ said Lady Mirabelle.
‘Some say – I don’t mind if you insist.’
‘I don’t.’
Those with experience knew better than to engage with Audrey when taken with the gossip. Eyes glassed over, ears ringing, and a mind temporarily churned into mush were common symptoms.

‘Oh! Noblesse oblige M’Lady. Anyway, some say Daisy is having problems concocting a new perfume. That she’s lost her whatsit. Anne Oldfowl calls it ‘creative constipation’, and she’d know about things like that. What with her female complaints, she oozes a lot. Reckons it’s given Daisy a madness that only a thorough purging can cure.’

Audrey swivelled her head towards Lady Mirabelle.

‘A cleansing of the artistic tubes to let it all flow again. But I holds with Aggie Waggle, cos she swears upon seeing Daisy being blanked by Celeste Wildcloud. Yesterday, outside Muddy Puddles. Blanked, and them two friends thicker than porridge all their lives. Something bad has passed between them.’ Audrey allowed herself a dramatic pause. ‘Nothing worse than being blanked.’

Lady Mirabelle could certainly name a few such as not being blanked by Audrey. She could also have mentioned that Aggie Waggle’s eyesight had seen clearer days. And that Aggie smoked a pipe containing what was whimsically referred to as medicinal leaves, for the easing of aches and pains, and a calming of the nerves. Aggie was round the Grandfather Clock high as a kite. But Lady Mirabelle would not mention any of this, for Lady Mirabelle was a Lady – with the smarts to keep an open mind to all possibilities, however incredible.

Audrey Flapp in one of her rare quiet moments. Audrey, forbid the very thought, would never consider herself a gossip. No pond side peddling of idle tittle tattle or of salacious goings on in the reed bed for her. But... if she knew that you wished to know what she knew, of her observations and the knowings of said goings on in the community, then such tittle tattle may possibly be imparted to you. Almost certainly...

They arrived at Daisy’s cottage to be greeted with an open door, silence and a weave of gentle scents.

‘Always smells nice here, not like at Anne Oldfowl’s. She oozes a lot. Did I mention that your Ladyship?’

So many people with so much to share, that you simply do not wish to know about, ever, thought Lady Mirabelle.

‘The wailing’s stopped,’ added Audrey. ‘Very quiet.’

And the need to state the obvious.

‘Perhaps she’s gone shopping. To get some sugar ... Or ... having a lie down on the floor because ... ‘ Audrey’s brain cogitated dire possibilities. ‘Being blanked made her all dizzy and – ‘

‘Come on in whoever you are. Come witness my despair!’
‘Looks like she’s at home then,’ said Audrey. ‘Despairing.’

Lady Mirabelle and Audrey stepped inside. To be immediately embraced by a tear stained, drunk as a skunk Daisy Feathertip. Daisy had a penchant for dramatics, able to change from spoiled princess to diva, to heroine on the hill, as rapid as a chameleon trapped in a kaleidoscope. Yet taking in, once she’d extracted herself from Daisy’s embrace, the mise-en-scène Lady Mirabelle understood something else was going on here. The normally immaculate morning room lay trashed. Broken crockery littered the floor, paintings and curtains ripped, furniture toppled over, the whole bomb had gone off. Terrible, but with one unexpected benefit, it hushed a startled Audrey.

Lady Mirabelle noted two empty bottles amongst the debris. ‘Daisy Feathertip, what a kerfuffle. I’ve never seen the like.’
‘Thank you, most gracious of you to say so.’ Daisy wobbled slightly. ‘Have you been partaking?’ said Lady Mirabelle.

‘I have indeed, M’Lady. Greatly.’

‘Partaking of what may I enquire?’
Daisy picked up one of the empty bottles, squinted closely at the label.

‘Dandelion gin. I’m afraid I can’t offer you a glass, I seem to have – ‘ Daisy hiccuped. ‘Have made it go all away. All away down my throat.’

‘And have you also been partaking in the throwing, smashing and generally tearing to shreds of things?’

‘Oh...that. Yes.’

Lady Mirabelle righted a chair and gently guided Daisy into it. In doing so revealing a travel bag. This likewise was noted.

‘Why don’t we start from the beginning. Or even the middle, as the end is already partly evident.’

Daisy fidgeted in the chair. She gazed at the devastation she’d wrought, not knowing whether to be shocked or rather impressed. She sniffled, clicked her beak nervously and blew her nose loudly, twice.

‘I ... it’s ... ‘

‘Take your time, Daisy. We’re ... ‘ Lady Mirabelle looked to the still stupefied Audrey. ‘I’m here to help in any way I can. Geese help geese it’s what we do. Onkyye.’

‘No one is kinder than you, Lady Mirabelle.’ Daisy took a deep breath. ‘KEVIN’S HAVING AN AFFAIR!’
Audrey reanimated faster than Frankenstein’s monster. ‘NO!’
‘YES!’

‘YES? NO!’
‘YES. KEVIN’S HAVING AN AFFAIR.’

Audrey couldn’t believe her ears. She had just won the gossip lottery. Though to make sure of it, she thought it best to double check the ticket.
‘YOUR KEVIN, YOUR FIANCÉ IS HAVING AN AFFAIR? WITH SOMEONE ELSE?’ ‘WHAT? OF COURSE WITH SOMEONE ELSE!’
‘OH! CONGRATULATIONS – NO, NO, THAT’S NOT RIGHT! COMMISER – ‘

‘LADIES!!!
Daisy and Audrey snapped to.
‘Lower caps if you please. Audrey, you can greatly ease the situation by making us all a nice pot of tea. An arrangement of biscuits, on a plate if not broken, would not go amiss either.’

‘Tea?’ said Audrey, desperate not to miss out on all the juicy details. ‘Tea.’ ‘And biscuits, yes.’
‘Tea and biscuits, tea and biscuits ... are very good after ... ‘
‘After what?’ said Lady Mirabelle.

‘After the doings of, and the wherefores of ... the ‘business’ thus to be discussed,’ continued Audrey. ‘Post chit chat tea and ... ’

Lady Mirabelle shot a significant look to Audrey. A look that said - I insist on tea and biscuits now, so no more delaying or shilly-shallying around, and take your time because it’s important that I talk to Daisy in private. Lady Mirabelle’s significant looks could change the weather.

‘I’ll be in the kitchen if anyone needs me,’ said Audrey. She shuffled off, down but not yet out. Walls have ears and those ears usually belonged to Audrey Flapp.

Lady Mirabelle turned to Daisy. She and her fiancé Kevin Nestcrafter had been cosily cohabiting for some years, saving carefully for their forthcoming Midsummer’s Day wedding. By all accounts loyal and sensible, Kevin seemed an unlikely candidate for infidelity. Except –

Kevin was an interior designer. Let’s leave that thought hanging in the air for a while

...

Engagement photo. Happy day.

‘How do you know Kevin’s having an affair. He’s told you. You’ve seen him together with another goose?’

‘No.’
‘So ...?’
Daisy fumbled around for the travel bag.
‘He came home last night from a business trip to Much Piddling In The Marsh. He’d gone there with his boss. He was tiddly, happy. Kevin’s never been so happy after a business trip.’

Various items were pulled out of the bag. First up an expensive silk tie, wafted vigorously under Lady Mirabelle’s nose.

‘Smell it! Perfume. Not mine.’
Next came an equally expensive designer waistcoat.
‘Ooooh! Isn’t this the thing. Buying himself gifts. He wants to impress someone.’ ‘You?’ said Lady Mirabelle. Daisy wasn’t for listening anymore. Frothing up she dug out a negligee.
‘That’s a Coudrec. The luxury lingerie suppliers, they have a royal warrant. I mean, how utterly exquisite is that lacework. Any goose would die to be given ...’ Lady Mirabelle stopped herself.

‘Not my size. Cleary for his petite lady on the side. There’s a gentleman’s club in Much Piddling – ‘

‘Flockers!’
‘Excuse me ... ‘ said Lady Mirabelle.
Audrey popped her head round the kitchen door. ‘It’s called Flockers. Got itself another name which shall not pass my beak, but it rhymes. Got them lapwing dancers – ‘

Audrey received another significant look from her ladyship. ‘Biscuits to be assorted. Don’t mind me.’ Audrey fled back into the kitchen.

‘See!’

In a fury Daisy ripped, pulled, tore and stomped on the offending tie, waistcoat and negligee.

‘It’s over. The marriage is off, I never want to see him again! I’d like that tea now Audrey, thank you.’

Audrey instantly swooped in with the tray of refreshments.

‘I used the Earl Grey - There’s digestives, jammy dodgers, and coconut surprises - What is the surprise, do you know? Who’s Kevin having an affair with? There’s milk and lemon – Is it someone from the village -’

‘I’ll pour.’ Daisy grabbed the teapot. She served the Earl Grey over the trashed clothing.

‘Will you be wanting the digestives?’ tempted Audrey. ‘Risk it for a biscuit ...’

‘Marvellous idea!’ Daisy tipped the plate of biscuits onto the clothes, crunching and crumbling them in with her feet. ‘This feels soooo good.’

‘Daisy.’ Lady Mirabelle was putting two and two together. ‘When Kevin came home he was tipsy. You were more than a little yourself, yes?’

‘Yes. I get lonely when Kevin’s away. He was exceedingly affectionate ... guilty. Covering up of course. Wittering on about good news, him and his boss bonding, a night on the town at – ‘

‘Flockers,’ said Audrey, keener than mustard to be part of this wild, exciting ride. ‘Kevin loves you. This I am certain of.’
‘Got a funny way of showing it,’ muttered Audrey.
‘I have a thought for you. Kevin and his boss were celebrating a successful trip, after landing a big contract or some such. His boss decided to purchase some gifts for himself and his wife.’

‘Polly. I like her, she’s sassy ... Petite ...’

‘And, as often happens, when people drink things get mixed up. Like travel bags. And sometimes drink causes people to become over emotional, making them jump to quite the wrong conclusions,’ said Lady Mirabelle.

‘I don’t think I like this thought,’ said Daisy, her heart sinking.
Lady Mirabelle took hold of the travel bag. ‘Is this Kevin’s bag?’
Daisy sighed. ‘No. ‘
‘No? No. What? Kevin’s not having an affair!’ sputtered Audrey. She caught Lady Mirabelle’s eyes just as a distant clap of thunder could be heard. ‘Then ... Hallelujah!’

‘Oh, deary, deary me. I’ve made a whoopsie, a really big whoopsie. Oh, what am I going do? Ohhhhhhhh!!!’ ‘Tidy up.’

‘But –‘

‘Kevin loves you. You love Kevin. There’s nothing that can’t be fixed here. We’ll blame it all on Audrey.’

‘WHAT?’, shrieked Audrey.

‘A joke. I make them sometimes. Introduce a touch of levity to lift the mood. I’ll tidy up everything else. There’s nothing I can’t fix, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.’ Lady Mirabelle smiled. If her Ladyship declared all will be fine, you could rest assured that it would.

‘Tidy up, Daisy. Enjoy life with Kevin.’
‘I shall. Thank you, thank you.’
Audrey dutifully followed Lady Mirabelle out of the cottage.
‘Walk with me back to the village. We can have ourselves a pleasant ‘chit-chat’.
‘I’d like that very much, M’Lady.’
‘About the virtues of holding one’s tongue.’
‘Why would anyone want to -’
‘Well I'll be damned.’
‘Pardon ... ‘
Lady Mirabelle pointed towards Lady Amelia's villa which lay close by across the meadow. ‘What do you think that person is doing?’
‘The one wearing a mask and cape, climbing out of Lady Amelia's bedroom window?’ ‘Correct. Who’s now running away.’
‘Doing a naughty most likely, M’Lady.’
‘Exactly.’

TO BE CONTINUED

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*There is a much needed definition of ‘ONKYYE’ in today’s edition of The Daily Honk", salvaged from the madness of Daisy’s flat:

Publisher’s Note:

Goosebumps is a collaborative Substack between the crafter of the geese and The Writer in Residence (who is a writer and literally resides in my house), plus their son, who created the templates for the newspaper and magazine.

This collaboration crosses (much like an inebriated person) the boundaries of reality and fiction and was born out of these geese’s unstoppable desire to become fictional characters. Please read the explanatory articles here and here.

You can also read Chapter 1 of the story here and then please consider subscribing. Our work feels somehow more rewarding if there are people reading this and perhaps even enjoying it.

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