no apparent reason

Too Many Cooks: Chapter 1

In place of the usual, here is part one of a story I wrote.

I. A Garden Party at Two-dozen-odd Oaks

“Hullo-ullo-ullo-ul…ahem…I say…” The young St. George-Fotheringale’s effusive greeting was broken off by several minutes of painful coughing. The coughs finally subsided to a painful wheeze, and with a foolish grin St. George-Fotheringale, known as Frothy to his friends, lit another cigarette.

Major Crag, turning his weather-beaten face towards the west, breathed deeply as if testing the air. “Blow a gale. Best postpone party,” he said, in a voice that might best be described as a sort of refined bark. Stony-faced, he accepted a cup of tea from his hostess.

Frothy looked at the western sky, which was clear and blue, and attempted to sniff the air but instead dissolved into another coughing fit. “Looks like the proverbial clear blue sky to me, old chap,” he finally managed to croak as he drained his cup and took another drag.

Lady Stout looked concerned. “Oh dear, I do hope the party won’t be ruined. Artemis has so been looking forward to it.” The always rosy Lady Stout flushed a shade pinker as she expertly refilled the teacups of various passers-by.

His verbal resources seemingly taxed to the utmost, the Major merely made a sort of snorting sound, but the rough nature of the sound was belied by the tender, if slightly drunken, gaze that he turned upon Lady Stout. The Major’s gruff exterior was belied by this tender regard for Lady Stout; which was in turn belied by his military career, which had been both bloodthirsty and wrong-headed to the point of incomprehensibility.

“I’d be lying if I admitted to any enthusiasm at all about this silly garden party, Mother.” Artemis turned up her pert nose, and the disagreeable expression she habitually wore upon her flower-like face momentarily intensified.

“Why, Artemis, of course you have been looking forward to this day for ages, for all of your life for that matter. This is the day you shall become a woman—for this is the day you shall pour out.” By way of demonstration, Lady Artemis refilled the Major’s teacup once again, and they all watched as tea overflowed onto the formerly spotless white tablecloth.

“Pour out? Mother, we were all presented with tea this morning while we were still in our beds. We had tea at breakfast. We had tea at elevenses. We had tea at lunch. We are having tea now. Now we are to eagerly anticipate a party which will feature, once again, TEA? Why, Mother, why tea?”

Lady Stout gazed at her daughter as though she were some species of carnivorous plant, to which, though it had just devoured her nearest and dearest, she refused to give the satisfaction of appearing to be annoyed. “Some nice tea, just the thing,” she murmured soothingly as she refilled Artemis’s cup.

Sir Stout now strolled up and sat down next to his wife, who immediately made as if to refill his teacup, but fortunately noticed in time that he had none. “Tea? Super,” said the ruddy-faced Sir Stout. “Glorious day, Crag. Reminds me of our boyhood days at our public school, Wainscoting.” Crag grunted again, even more drunkenly than before. Lady Stout flushed, lowered her eyelashes, and smiled with a deep womanly sympathy for Crag’s unspoken but ardent affection for herself; then produced a fresh cup of tea for her husband.

Taking a refreshing draught of tea, Sir Stout beamed around at his family and friends. “I’m so pleased that you are all here this weekend,” he began.

“Well, we do live here, dear,” Lady Stout murmured. “Artemis and I.”

“And I have news that will be important to all of you,” Sir Stout continued. “I—“ Stout coughed, gagged, turned really remarkably ruddy indeed, and dropped dead.

“I say,” breathed the onlookers, as Sir Stout’s erstwhile teacup clattered onto the flagstone garden walkway, rolled around on its rim, and finally settled into a deathly stillness.

Posted by michele at October 9, 2003 3:00 PM