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poppy

Continue the Story Game

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eating Danish pastries and swilling coffee at the rail station cafe.

Admiring glances were enjoyed by Trixie as men eyed her sophisticated demeanour and outfit, with longing.

"Perhaps I will forget a change of outfit", declared Trixie, blushing.

Bertie looked bemused.

"Its ok for the yahoos of a coarse northern post industrial, post Labourite socialist, post everything, seedy city, to ogle you but a good educated Cockney..Chez moi..is treated with disdain."

Edited by itsmeagain

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'But it's the accent!' said Trixie, 'it makes me go all gooey and weak at the knees.'

'Pull yourself together, Trixie, we haven't got time for that sort of nonsense. I didn't get where I am today by going all gooey and weak at the knees, you know!' declared Annabelle.

'How did you get to where you are today, Annabelle?' asked Bertie innocently.

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"By being good at my job. And bossing people around. That's how managers get by. Not by running after Yorkshire accents."

A silence was punctuated by the chomping of toast from their own, and adjoining, tables.

"Did you know", opined Trixie," that Bertie said I was dressed like a pox doctor's assistant? Shocking."

A silence.

Annabelle said "I am meeting Ernest Surety at 11 regarding our new office suite."

Edited by itsmeagain

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'And once established, we can get down to work. Harriet is proving a far better operative than either of you, so I'm putting her in charge. Trixie, you've been spending far more time flirting than fact-finding. You're in the office for now, see if you can make yourself useful for a change.  Bertie, you're to assist Harriet. ' 

Trixie and Bertie looked daggers at Harriet, but she just tossed her head.

'Now this next job we've got is rather interesting. Apparently ...

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Paul's Youth centre at Downward Street have been allowing teens to drink beer.

Now Harriet ..you will put two red dots on your face and do your hair in a pigtail..pretend you're 15. Be a new member. Bertie you will be her dad. Now let's get cracking."

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'Her Dad!!' exclaimed Bertie, 'you've got to be joking, I'm nowhere NEAR old enough to be her Dad!'

'What part of 'Get cracking' didn't you understand?' demanded Annabelle, hands on hips.

And Bertie went off muttering mutinously under his breath. 'Dad indeed, I don't look anything like a Dad. Ridiculous! I'll be the laughing stock. Why doesn't she go along as her mother? Or her bloomin' grandmother for that matter. '

Fortunately Annabelle didn't hear the last bit, she'd turned to Trixie and told her to ...

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trotted off to the kitchen and then changed her mind. 'What the heck am I doing??'

'Annabelle, you can jam your job!. I didn't sign up to become some kind of kitchen lakey. You are nothing but a rude, bad-tempered, ungrateful, abusive, insulting, egotistical, inconsiderate, self-centred, slave-driving ...!' Trixie ran out of adjectives. Storming out, she slammed the door and once well clear, feeling very pleased with her assertiveness, texted Bertie, 'What do you think I've just done?'

Edited by poppy

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"What?" came the response.

"Just told the silly cow to push her job where Cyril Bauble used to shove his nuts."

Shocked, Bertie thrust the phone back into his dark green cords, and , sat in the car, asked Harriet if she is clear on what is expected.

"Oh yes..dad", she declared wryly, a mean smile lighting up her face.."I will go in and ask if I may join the youth club. You are my dad and you can verify all information. I am Harriet and I am 15 years old. I am 34 but 15..lol."

Edited by itsmeagain

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The familiar and disconcerting sound of sirens could be heard in the distance and Bertie's mind was dragged off Trixie's bombshell when three cop cars came to a screeching halt outside the youth club. Not long after, several teens were being escorted out by the police to be pushed, protesting vociferously, into the waiting cop cars. Who should one be, but none other than our girly Harriet. She could be heard wailing, 'But I'm not REALLY fifteen, ask my father... I mean my colleague over there!'

'A likely story! Tell it to the Super, down at the station.'

Another big muck-up, thought Bertie. Perhaps it was time, after all, to ...

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jack it all in. And that's what he did. He got Harriet to do the same after she was freed and bang went Annabelle's detective agency.

The end.

Edited by itsmeagain

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