Yours Truly (15 page)

His eyes twinkle with amusement, and before I can respond he’s standing up from the table and strolling off, taking his mug of tea with him.

Just before he reaches the doorway to the back room he turns around.

“
Enjoy your meeting. I’ll be in the kitchen cooking bland things with black pepper.
”
And with that he disappears.

Well.

How rude.

Talk about holding a grudge.

“
Did he just say something about a meeting?
”
says Meg passing me the last piece of toast.

“
Yes, I think he did. He’s odd isn’t he? Maybe meeting is like, a Yorkshire term for breakfast or something.
”

“
Natty, we’re in North Yorkshire. Breakfast is breakfast. I’m quite sure that meeting here means the same as it does back in Manc.
”

And just as we’re pondering what Riley meant the door to the pub bursts open and in trail three of the locals who I vaguely recognise from last night, including Alan in his flat cap, and a wiry woman with her wispy grey hair scraped back into a bun and gold spectacles perched on the end of her nose. I don’t recognise her at all.

“
Hello lasses, glad to see you’re up!
”
Alan bellows, instructing the rest of the newcomers to take seats at our table.

“
Hello?
”
Meg and I chime, looking at each other, bewildered. I glimpse the clock on the wall. Hmmm.

Isn’t it a bit early to be coming for a drink? Is this a village of alcohol dependents?

“
So,
”
says Alan once everyone is seated.
“
Shall we begin?
”

“
Um, begin what?
”
I ask, properly puzzled. What the chuff is he talking about?

Alan rolls his eyes at the
others.
“
Our
meeting, of course. It’s eleven-
thirty AM. Time to start Operation Locate Brian
”
.

It turns out that in the throes of an alcoholic stupor last night, I assembled a crack team of local pensioners to help with my plight. I must have geed them up good and proper because they’re very excited about the task in hand.

We’ve all reacquainted ourselves with each other, and by that I mean I’ve had to ask everyone’s name again because I really don’t remember a thing about organising this.

And so, Operation Locate Brian consists of Meg and I, ruddy-faced A
lan, Mrs Grimes (the local shopkeeper, and village gossip -
she wasn’t in the pub last night, but heard my tale and wanted to get involved) and Morag and Barney Braithwaite, a sweet retired couple in their late sixties.

While I was asleep, blissfully unaware of the hangover from hell creeping its way through my body, Alan, Mrs Grimes, and the Braithwaites were already on the case. They got up early this morning and searched Brian’s house for clues.

“
And the oddest thing was,
”
Alan is saying, tapping a fountain pen against a notebook,
“
it didn’t look as if Brian had gone away at all. The heating was on and there was a col
d bottle of milk on the counter
top.
”

“
That’s strange,
”
I say.
“
He definitely wasn’t there?
”

“
We looked all around the house,
”
says Mrs Grimes gleefully, pushing her gold specs up her nose.
“
He’s got one of those bidets, you know! And his duve
t cover h
as pink stripes!
”

“
But we couldn’t see hide nor hair of him,
”
Alan interrupts, giving Mrs Grimes a disapproving glance.

“
Then we thought, what if he’s been murdered?
”
says Morag Braithwaite, a kindly looking woman with tight curly white hair.
“
I thought it would be best to call the police.
”

“
But we couldn’t,
”
adds Barney Braithwaite patting his wife on the arm.
“
After all, we had no business being in his house. We didn’t want to get arrested.
”

“
You broke in?
”
Meg says, her voice perfectly echoing the shock that I feel.
“
You didn’t have a key? Brian didn’t give you a key?
”

Morag looks ashamed of herself, two spots of colour appearing high on her cheeks.

“
We didn’t steal anything.
”
Alan says gruffly.
“
It wasn’t a proper break in. We just wanted to find some clues. But there was nothing helpful at all.
”

“
How on earth did you get in without a key?
”
I ask.

They go quiet.

“
We climbed in through the bathroom window,
”
Mrs Grimes finally admits, her bottom lip wobbling with the guilt of it all.

“
No!
”

“
Well, he shouldn’t have left it open. He’s lucky it was only us who broke in, leaving his window open for all and sundry to wriggle through.
”
She tuts and folds her arms in a huff.

Oh goodness. What have I instigated? Four pensioners breaking and entering into someone’s house, committing crimes!

“
We’re so sorry we haven’t come up with anything yet, love,
”
says Morag shrugging her shoulders sadly.
“
But we do have another plan.
”

The others nod, apparently excited.

“
What is?
”
I ask, feeling suddenly nervous.

“
Well,
”
says Barney.
“
We’re going to do a media splash.
”

“
Excuse me? A media what?
”

“
Our radio station. Radio Trooley!
”

“
This place has a radio station?
”
says Meg in surprise.
“
But it’s so small!
”

The locals look mildly affronted.

“
I used to work for BBC Radio 2, I’ll have you know. Radio Trooley has quite the following,
”
Barney grumps before turning back to me.

“
I think your story is a real human interest piece, Natalie. The mystical hypnotism and your impending wedding, and a very unhappy groom…
”

“
Olly,
”
I mutter, nodding sadly.

“
And we hav
e listeners all over the North W
est of England
and
on the internet. If we tell your story on the air, someone in the know might be listening. Someone who knows where Brian is!
”

The locals look very impressed with themselves.

I think about it for a moment. It doesn't seem like such a good idea. Once people find out that I'm a bonafide victim of hypnotism gone wrong, they'll probably want to know all about me. Scientists might want to experiment on my brain. It'll be like in
ET: The Extra Terrestrial
. Only without the flying bicycle, which is sad because that’d be really cool.

But then again... the quickest way to find Brian would be to have lots of people looking out for him. And the only way to get lots of people to look out for him is with publicity.

Maybe other people who have been the victim of his wayward brain control thingies will come forward. We could set up a support group...
there
could be wine and nibbles and -

“
Natalie?
”
Meg nudges me.

“
Can I think about it?
”
I say.
“
And get back to you?
”

“
Oh yes. Of course, love.
”
Morag Braithwaite says kindly. Her husband Barney tuts and shakes his head.

“
Thanks for the meeting.
”
says Mrs Grimes getting up from the table.
“
I must be off. Robbie's shirts won't iron themselves. Sons, eh? Lazy buggers.
”

Beside me Meg chokes on her tea. Robbie is this woman's son! Ha!

“
I have work to do too,
”
Alan says gruffly, picking up his fountain pen and clipping it to his shirt.
“
Great meeting. Thanks all.
“

As the two of them wander away I get the distinct feeling that they've done this before.

This place is so weird.

“
Anyone for an early lunch?
”
Riley says strolling in from the kitchen balancing a tray carefully in one hand.

A chorus of
“
Ooohs
”
go up around the table as the tray is placed in front of us. Riley removes a huge silver dish cover with a flourish, and there on a white saucer is an orangey pink blob surrounded by bright green bubbly liquid.

Morag jumps back as the blob wibbles around on the dish. She clasps Barney’s hand in shock.

“
What on earth is that?
”
says Meg prodding the blob with her finger.
“
It looks like it's breathing.
”

Riley ignores her.
“
Here we have a chicken parfait served with, um, pig trotters and, a… sumptuous foam made from foraged pine.
”
He looks pointedly at me.
“
Fresh, original and definitely
not
boring. Try it. You’ll see. I think this one could go on the menu.
”

“
Not for me, thanks,
”
Meg says, not bothering to hide her disgust.
“
I’m calorie counting.
”

“
I had a huge breakfast, love,
”
Morag pats her tummy for emphasis.
“
I couldn’t eat another morsel.
”

“
I just need to nip to the loo,
”
a pale faced Barney says, rushing of
f
to the men’s.

“
Dicky tummy,
”
Morag says apologetically before hurrying after him.

Which leaves just me.

“
Natalie.
”
Riley smiles and nods to the blob on the table.
“
You’re the great culinary expert, seemingly. I think you’ll agree that this dish is really something special.
”

He hands me a fork, his gruff face expectant and handsome.

I feel bad. If I try it and it tastes like it looks then I’m only going to insult him again. Oh dear.

“
Ah, go on,
”
he says guiding my hand towards the plate.

I’m not sure what else to do without being horribly rude.

And so I taste it.

“
It’s…
interesting,
”
I eventually say, struggling to swallow what must be the oddest thing I have ever put in my mouth.

“
You have to ask her the question to get the truth,
”
Meg pipes up unhelpfully.
“
She’s trying to be polite.
”

I scowl at her. She laughs at me.

Riley nods and takes a seat at the table, looking me straight in the eyes.

“
How does it taste, Natalie?
”
he asks frowning slightly.

The question immediately sparks the weird fizzy feeling and I’m off.

“
Individually, the elements aren’t bad at all. But what on earth are you thinking serving chicken parfait with a pine foam? Are you on glue? It looks damn ugly, and if you’re trying to be all trendy by serving pigs trotters then it isn’t working. They’re still pig trotters. You know? Feet of a pig! Pigs. Toes…
”