The Colonel and His Daughter (9 page)

Roger ambled up, sniffed the Colonel’s hand and looked hopefully past him.

“Sorry old boy,” he said. “I left Wellington at home. He misses you too.”

“Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you,” he said, twirling his hat. “But I would like to leave via the back door when I go, if you don’t mind.”

He picked a few browning rose petals from down the front of his shirt and dropped them in the bin.

He sat on the sofa and Roger scrambled up beside him.

“Thought you’d like to know, Diana and Bill are getting married,” he said. “Apparently they had a long talk last night and cleared the air. They told me about the baby. Wonderful isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Trudy said, picking at a pluck on the arm of the chair.

“You know, several of the plants in my conservatory are dead,” he said out of the blue. “And there are tell tale blotches on the leaves. As if someone sprayed them with killer.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I suspect it was Trudy Benson, in the conservatory, with the mister spray.”

Her mouth twitched. She couldn’t help it.

“Are you sure it wasn’t Colonel Mustard, in the conservatory, with one of his cunning plans?” she asked.

“That’s more like you,” he beamed. “I want to clear the air between us, Trudy. We’ve known each other too long to fall out over this.”

“You want me to come back and do for you, like before,” Trudy said.

She felt oddly humiliated. Perhaps he would heap on the agony and offer her a pay rise to make up for the disruption he’d caused.

“I hear you’ve been going round in your Liz Taylor sunspecs,” he said and to her utter astonishment, he leaned forward and placed his fingers gently under her chin, raising her head so she had to look at him. “Those pretty eyes shouldn’t be so red. It doesn’t go well with green. And no amount of make up will hide it.”

Only Reverend Blinking could have told him about the sunglasses. No one else had seen her red eyes, except Roger and to the best of her knowledge, he wasn’t able to use the phone.

“Oh, just stop it, can’t you?” Trudy cried. “It was only ever pretend. We wouldn’t have found ourselves in this mess if Diana hadn’t overheard us talking about our silly plans for her wedding and if that wretched Bernard hadn’t been after plighting his troth.”

“And I would never have realised how much I loved you,” Potts said gruffly. “There, said it now. All out in the open. I love you, Ermintrude Benson. And this time I want to ask you properly to marry me. Ring and all. So will you? Will you marry me Trudy?”

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small box, opening it with a nimble flick of his finger.

“Ooooh!” The sound came from outside like a sudden massive gust of wind and when Trudy looked, it was to see several mouths gaping open. Those gathered at the gate had seen the ring and must realise that a reconciliation was on the cards.

“Hope you like emeralds. I know some people consider them bad luck, but I don’t think we need worry, do you?”

The room seemed to have suddenly grown dark, yet there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky when she’d opened the door to let Potts in. They looked up and saw the crowd had moved from her gate to stand noses pressed against the window.

There was an expectant smile on every face.

“What do you say, Trudy? Or have I totally misread the situation?”

“You haven’t misread anything,” she said, holding out her left hand, fingers splayed.

He took the ring from the box and slid it gently onto the third finger of her left hand.

“Aaaaah,” the crowd sighed.

Trudy went to the window, smiled and waved, then pulled the cord to close the curtains. The crowd jostled, squeezing together trying to catch the last glimpse of the happy couple before they disappeared behind a swathe of flowery cotton.

Then she turned into the Colonel’s arms for a kiss, every bit as sweet as she expected it to be.

“I think this is the part where you’re supposed to ravish me, Colonel,” Trudy said softly.

“And as always, dear lady, you are absolutely right . . .”

-THE END-

Teresa Ashby has been writing short stories, serials and pocket novels since the 1980s for magazines in the UK and abroad – she welcomes visitors to her blog

http://teresaashby.blogspot.com/