Read Online Scandal at Six (Lois Meade Mystery) by Ann Purser - Free Book Online
Authors: Ann Purser
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make a list of necessary pieces of furniture to replace. The dump in Tresham, now elevated to a recycling centre, had the most amazing bargains. Secondhand chairs and tables in good condition, and loads of other things. They even had a section for practically new curtains.
She stood up from her desk. “That’s my weekend settled,” she said to Jeems, who, as usual, sat at her feet while she was working. “Now, this afternoon I’ll go into Tresham to see Hazel and buy some paint from the wholesaler.”
“Talking to yourself again,” said Gran, coming in with a handful of post. “Postie’s late again. I reckon she ought to be replaced. Hey, Lois, that’s a good idea! Why don’t we offer the flat to a reliable postman. Special rates for assisting in post office on pension days?”
“Postmen, or postwomen, don’t forget, have to be appointed by head office, or some such. And anyway, we want as much as we can get in rent, without offering special rates. We shall see who comes to view. I’d be happy with a nice middle-aged professional bachelor, who’d be equal to burglars and snakes, and good at housework. Josie might hear again from that actor bloke.”
“Well, all I can say is good luck to whoever takes it on. And I promise to keep quiet about recent invasions of snakes, spiders, toads, rats and frogs. Sounds biblical, doesn’t it? One of them plagues in the Old Testament. At least I escaped boils. And when you’re in Tresham, can you get another couple of rat traps?”
*
Hazel Thornbull was the wife of a Farnden farmer, and had worked for Lois since she first founded the New Brooms cleaning service. When they set up the Tresham office, Hazel immediately applied for the job as manager, and with her small daughter now at school for a full day, and her mother able to help out with her timetable, she had established a well-organised office in the heart of town. This morning had been busy, with two of the cleaning girls coming in for changes in rotas, and a new client in Waltonby to be visited.
“So what’s new this afternoon?” said Lois, coming through the door. “And how’s your family? Busy time on the farm?”
“Morning, Mrs M. Everybody’s fine, except John, and he’s exhausted, as usual! Still, it’s been a good year so far, for once. A happy farmer is a rare bird!”
They got down to business then, and Lois gave Hazel a flier advertising the flat to stick up in the office window.
The potential client for cleaning was from Waltonby, the new owner of the old vicarage, a massive Victorian house built in the days when maids occupied the attic rooms and gardeners tended the extensive grounds.
“What sort of people are they?” asked Lois.
Hazel sniffed. “Usual newly rich. Probably won the lottery. Wife overdressed and tame husband on a lead.”
“Hazel! Don’t forget our motto: ‘We clean; you pay.’ And that’s all we need.”
“Mrs M, you just made that up. ‘We sweep cleaner’ is our motto!”
“True. But it really doesn’t matter who or what they are. We’ve got all sorts on our books. I’ll make an appointment to see them, and let you know what transpires.”
“Anything new on that poor dog story? I reckon it was one of those horrible things old Pettison’s got in his zoo. John reckons it should be cleared out altogether. He’s always worried that the things brought over from foreign countries could bring diseases that turn into epidemics and run riot in our farm animals. I suppose there are special checks on them at customs and so on?”
“Small things, insects an’ that, can come hidden in luggage and are never spotted by customs, so Gran says,” Lois answered. “But that’s Gran, so I expect John has nothing to worry about. Now, I’ll just nip up the road and see if Dot is back from work. Let me know if you get any replies to the flat ad.”
Dot Nimmo’s house was at the top of the same street, and Lois parked outside and knocked. As she stood waiting
She stood up from her desk. “That’s my weekend settled,” she said to Jeems, who, as usual, sat at her feet while she was working. “Now, this afternoon I’ll go into Tresham to see Hazel and buy some paint from the wholesaler.”
“Talking to yourself again,” said Gran, coming in with a handful of post. “Postie’s late again. I reckon she ought to be replaced. Hey, Lois, that’s a good idea! Why don’t we offer the flat to a reliable postman. Special rates for assisting in post office on pension days?”
“Postmen, or postwomen, don’t forget, have to be appointed by head office, or some such. And anyway, we want as much as we can get in rent, without offering special rates. We shall see who comes to view. I’d be happy with a nice middle-aged professional bachelor, who’d be equal to burglars and snakes, and good at housework. Josie might hear again from that actor bloke.”
“Well, all I can say is good luck to whoever takes it on. And I promise to keep quiet about recent invasions of snakes, spiders, toads, rats and frogs. Sounds biblical, doesn’t it? One of them plagues in the Old Testament. At least I escaped boils. And when you’re in Tresham, can you get another couple of rat traps?”
*
Hazel Thornbull was the wife of a Farnden farmer, and had worked for Lois since she first founded the New Brooms cleaning service. When they set up the Tresham office, Hazel immediately applied for the job as manager, and with her small daughter now at school for a full day, and her mother able to help out with her timetable, she had established a well-organised office in the heart of town. This morning had been busy, with two of the cleaning girls coming in for changes in rotas, and a new client in Waltonby to be visited.
“So what’s new this afternoon?” said Lois, coming through the door. “And how’s your family? Busy time on the farm?”
“Morning, Mrs M. Everybody’s fine, except John, and he’s exhausted, as usual! Still, it’s been a good year so far, for once. A happy farmer is a rare bird!”
They got down to business then, and Lois gave Hazel a flier advertising the flat to stick up in the office window.
The potential client for cleaning was from Waltonby, the new owner of the old vicarage, a massive Victorian house built in the days when maids occupied the attic rooms and gardeners tended the extensive grounds.
“What sort of people are they?” asked Lois.
Hazel sniffed. “Usual newly rich. Probably won the lottery. Wife overdressed and tame husband on a lead.”
“Hazel! Don’t forget our motto: ‘We clean; you pay.’ And that’s all we need.”
“Mrs M, you just made that up. ‘We sweep cleaner’ is our motto!”
“True. But it really doesn’t matter who or what they are. We’ve got all sorts on our books. I’ll make an appointment to see them, and let you know what transpires.”
“Anything new on that poor dog story? I reckon it was one of those horrible things old Pettison’s got in his zoo. John reckons it should be cleared out altogether. He’s always worried that the things brought over from foreign countries could bring diseases that turn into epidemics and run riot in our farm animals. I suppose there are special checks on them at customs and so on?”
“Small things, insects an’ that, can come hidden in luggage and are never spotted by customs, so Gran says,” Lois answered. “But that’s Gran, so I expect John has nothing to worry about. Now, I’ll just nip up the road and see if Dot is back from work. Let me know if you get any replies to the flat ad.”
Dot Nimmo’s house was at the top of the same street, and Lois parked outside and knocked. As she stood waiting
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