Thanks for the comments so far. Appreciated and helpful. As I've already written about two thirds of this, I'll do rewrites when I've finished. I've always had a problem finishing anything of length and so I'm keen to keep the momentum going.

Chapter three.

FLYING CUPS AND SAUCERS.

After the music on the radio, I remembered what I’d left the house for, my pools coupon.  I’ve been doing the pools since I was twenty-one and only won once.  Fifteen shillings, that’s seventy-five pence in this new money.  That was back in 1951.  Of course, fifteen shillings went quite a long way back then, but it was no fortune.  I can remember what I spent it on though, a gold chain with a single diamond hanging on it for my Elsie.  She loved it.  In fact she hardly ever took it off from that day to the day she died.  If I won the jackpot now I’ve no idea what I’d spend it on.  When you get to my age you’ve just about got everything you need.

Anyway, I went back out and made my way to the newsagents to collect my coupon.  On the way back I was stopped outside number two by a pleasant looking lady.

 “Morning,” she said.  “You’ve just moved in down the road haven’t you?”

 “Yes,” I said.  “My name’s Ted Brown.”

 “Well Mr. Brown.  I’m Mrs. Pugh.  We’re having a coffee morning for the church at number four.  Perhaps you’d like to come.  It’ll give you chance to meet some of your new neighbours,” she said.

Of course, I was very grateful and so about twenty minutes later I was sat in a comfortable chair in number four sipping a hot, sweet coffee and eating a rather nice iced bun.

I remember it was a lovely atmosphere.  At least to start with.  But then they started.  Even the vicar joined in.  In fact he was the one who started it.

“Do you know?” he said to no-one in particular, but of course everyone listened because he was the vicar.  “Do you know, that Grimson boy stole some of the collection money last week?  Just sneaked into the vestry and helped himself!”

From around the room came gasps of shock and horror.  Mrs. Pugh muttered something to Mr. Douglas who nodded his head gravely.

“Did you catch him?” asked Mrs. Bartholomew.

“I did,” replied the vicar.  “But when he emptied his pockets they were empty.  I had no proof!”

This time there were nods of heads and Mrs. Douglas snorted, “Typical!”

This conversation carried on for a while but instead of sticking to the Grimson boy, who I assumed correctly was Billy, my new neighbours talked more generally of the family at number eight.

The things I heard!  Well I don’t like gossip as I’ve already said, so I tried not to listen, but I couldn’t help thinking that they weren’t being fair about Billy.  I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“How do you know it was Billy?” I asked.  “Did you actually see him do it?”

All of a sudden the conversation stopped.  Everybody was looking at me.

“My dear Mr. Brown,” said the vicar.  “It could only have been Billy Grimson.  I know there’s money missing and Mrs. Bartholomew said she saw Hugh and Billy near the vestry.  When she looked back Hugh had gone and Billy was left on his own.”

“But you didn’t actually see him take the money?” I asked again.  “How do you know it wasn’t this Hugh boy who took it before he left Billy alone?”

Mrs. Pugh gave me a stony look.  It was then that I realised that Hugh must be Mrs. Pugh’s son.  I know it’s not fair, but I couldn’t help thinking what a silly name it was, Hugh Pugh.  It sounds like some babyish rhyme.

“Mr. Brown,” said the vicar in a posh voice that I was now beginning to suspect he was putting on.  “When you’ve been living here long enough, you’ll know who’s responsible for anything like this around here.  It’s always one of that Grimson clan.”

Well, I thought, that’s the last time I go to his church, even if I do have to walk further on a Sunday.  I was sure I was not wrong about Billy Grimson.

The conversation got back to general complaints about the Grimsons.  I tried really hard not to listen by looking out of the window.  On the pavement I could see Rover lazily walking about, having a half hearted sniff at gate posts and such like.

It was then that my complaining neighbours started to moan about the dog.

“And that Rover,” began Mrs. Pugh rather loudly.

Well Rover must have pretty good hearing.  I watched as his ears pricked up and he began to run toward whoever had called him.  It was a hot day, so the front door had been left open to let in some air.  Rover bounded in through the door and skidded into the room where we were all sat.  The sight of all that food must have confused his little doggy brain.  He forgot about discovering who had called him and spun around in circles deciding which plate he would eat from first.

There was complete pandemonium.  Rover dived towards Mrs. Pugh’s plate.  She shrieked and split her coffee over the vicar who said something I really can’t repeat.  Meanwhile, Rover, thinking this was one big game, began wagging his tail in big long strokes which in no time at all knocked all the buns from Mr. Douglas’ plate onto the floor.  Mr. Douglas decided enough was enough and got up to try and control Rover.  Rover’s eye was caught by a rather nice looking cake on the other side of the room.  He spun round and knocked Mr. Douglas off balance.  Mr. Douglas grabbed a table to balance himself but the table just flipped up and sent cakes and sticky buns flying in all directions.  The buns splattered onto everyone, including me.  Rover was frightened by all this and left as quickly as he arrived.

There was deathly silence in the room, all except for me.  I laughed and laughed until I thought I’d make myself ill.  No-one else saw the funny side though.

They looked ridiculous.  One minute sat there prim and proper, gossiping untruths about the Grimsons, the next bedecked with bits of cake and mush.  Just deserts for gossiping I thought.  What really made it funny was the fact that all this mess had been created by the Grimson family dog.

I left and walked back to the house, still laughing.  If Elsie could have seen me then she’d have thought I’d gone mad.  Laughing so hard my sides hurt and covered in bits of sticky food.  Still, she would have seen the funny side.  She too wouldn’t have had much time for that bunch of gossips.