Chipsy

Chipsy

Mrs Babbage, of number three Cobble Lane, was potting some Dahlias in the warmth of a spring sun, when she heard a sudden scream coming from inside her neighbour’s house. There was absolute silence, and Mrs Babbage started to wonder if she had really heard a scream at all. Sitting as still as a mouse, her gloved hand holding the small gardening shovel, as if frozen in time, she waited and listened. The garden was filled with all kinds of chitter chatter from its residing creatures, but no further sounds came from the neighbour. After a little while she relaxed and continued her pottering, when she heard the neighbour’s front door slam. She shot up, still holding the little shovel, and being a curious creature, tip toed to the hedge that separated the two properties. Standing on her toes, her nose peaked over the hedge. She didn’t see anything out of place, not that she would know what to look for.

From around the corner of the stone house came Mr Kinsley, struggling all the way to the front door holding plastic wraps, paint, a paint brush, and a shovel. Mrs Babbage crouched down on all fours, feeling suddenly guilty for spying, and started to crawl over the grass.

“Good heavens, dear. What on earth are you doing?” Mr Babbage came outside with a cup of tea.

Standing up and brushing her knees Mrs Babbage took the cup and said, “Thank you, love.” Sipping on her tea she continued, “I heard a scream and was just making sure everything was alright next door.”

“What, on all fours?” Mr Babbage laughed and said, “That little nose of yours is going to get you into trouble one of these days. You know what happened to the cat.” He waved a finger at her.

“Well, satisfaction brought it back!” Mrs Babbage gave her husband a little nudge and smiled. “Don’t worry, love, I will keep my nose to myself this time. Promise.” However, this time soon turned out quite like the last time.

*

Mrs Babbage woke up to a noise in the middle of the night. She got up quietly and went to the window, pulling the curtains slightly aside. She heard it clearly now, a thump, coming from the Kinsley’s. She quickly glanced at her husband snoring in the bed, and back to the window overlooking the neighbour’s house. She saw Mr Kinsley coming out the front door carrying a suitcase, which seemed too heavy for him as he stopped to rest once, before managing to heave it into the boot of the car, and drove quietly off like a clumsy thief in the night.

This was quite odd Mrs Babbage thought, and ignored the excitement of it all. She loved scandals, and her heart gave a little leap as she entertained the thought that she could be witness to one right under her nose. She climbed back into bed, but didn’t fall asleep again, pondering about the curious going-ons next door.

The following morning Mrs Babbage was standing in the kitchen making a pot of tea.

“Did you see Chipsy this morning?” She asked, as Mr Babbage walked in.

“No. I wouldn’t worry, though. You know he likes to go wandering about.” Mr Babbage sat down, cleared his throat, and started to read the newspaper.

“Aren’t you going to eat your breakfast?” Mrs Babbage asked while leaning closer to the kitchen window, concentrating on something outside.

Mr Babbage took one look at his breakfast from behind the newspaper and muttered something about nonsense bird food.

“What was that, love?” Mrs Babbage turned and looked at her husband now.

“I said, I will eat it in a minute dear.” Mr Babbage smiled and continued reading.

The morning went by fairly quickly, and Mrs Babbage busied herself in the garden again. Mr Babbage had gone to work early and she found his breakfast in the bin while cleaning the kitchen. She sighed; it was hard trying to get him to eat healthy these days.

Her thoughts wondered to the Kinsley’s, and realised she hadn’t seen Mrs Kinsley since two days ago. The sky grew darker as thick rain clouds rolled in, and so did her suspicion. She shook her head and said quietly to herself, “Don’t be a ridiculous, Berta. It couldn’t possibly be that.”

“Be what?”

Mrs Babbage gave a little frightful shriek at the intrusive voice. It was Mr Kinsley, resting his arms on top of the hedge. She turned and stood up, wiping her forehead.

“Oh Mr Kinsley! You frightened me half to death.” She waved her trusted hand held shovel at Mr Kinsley. “How is Mrs Kinsley? She hasn’t come over for tea in quite a while.” Mrs Babbage enquired curiously.

Mr Kinsley frowned, “I’m afraid she had a little accident. Nothing to worry about. She’ll be back before you know it.”

“Oh dear. Is she alright?” Her interest was piqued. This was it; she knew something awful had happened, but no one would believe her, since the Kinsley’s were highly respected folk in the entire county. She always thought they were a little too nice, as if hiding darker secrets. Mr Babbage warned her often enough not to entertain these kind of thoughts, as they would warrant uncomely behaviour towards others, and he would have none of that.

Mr Kinsley looked around, then back to Mrs Babbage, and said with a wink, “Don’t worry, Mrs Babbage. Our problem has been solved through a little accident, thanks to my wife.” He straitened up and said, “Now, I need to get back to cleaning up the little mess she left. Have a good afternoon, and regards to Archie.” He waved and walked back into the house.

Mrs Babbage’s mouth hung open. What in heavens did he mean? Surely, he wasn’t so arrogant as to tease about killing his wife. Her mind was racing now, and so was her heart. It started to drizzle, and by the time she got to her front door it was pouring.

At 6 o’clock it was completely dark outside, and the rain was still beating down relentlessly. Mrs Babbage had supper ready and was waiting for Mr Babbage, who seemed to be running late again. The lights flickered and went out, and Mrs Babbage, frightened as a mouse, made her way through the darkness to the kitchen. She fumbled through a drawer and found a torch, switching in on with shaky hands. She hated the dark, and looked out of the kitchen window to see if there was any sign of Mr Babbage. There on the lawn stood Mr Kinsley staring at the house. She yelped, und ducked down onto the floor, placing her hand over her mouth. He has come to finish her off, she thought. She reached up, opened a drawer, and grabbed her chopping knife. There was a fumbling at the front door. Clutching the knife tightly and her heart beating wildly, she walked slowly to the front door. She jumped as the door knob stared to move from side to side. It stopped. She held up the knife and reached for the knob. With the knife raised, and her hand gripping the knob tightly, she swung open the door.

“Oh dear god, Berta!” Mr Babbage stared wide eyed at his wife, clutched his chest and collapsed onto the floor. Mrs Babbage dropped the knife and rushed to her husband’s side. He wasn’t responding, and she took his arms, pulling him inside the house.

*

The kettle finished to boil and Mrs White poured the hot water over the teabags. She gave a mug to Mrs Babbage, and said, “He was a good man, Berta. At least he left you with something; he looked after you.” Her sister took her hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.

Wiping her nose with her handkerchief, Mrs Babbage said, “Thank you, Sue.” She gazed into her mug, not voicing her thoughts, as to the real cause of Mr Babbage’s fatal stroke. The doorbell rang, and Mrs White stood up to go.

“No, I’ll get it.” Mrs Babbage went to the front door and opened it. It was Mr and Mrs Kinsley. With utter shock at the sight of Mrs Kinsley, Mrs Babbage stood frozen and gaping at them. She was alive. Mrs Kinsley was alive.

“Oh dear Berta, our most heartfelt condolences.” Mrs Kinsley embraced her tightly.

“How - ?” Mrs Babbage couldn’t find the right words, as her mind was in utter confusion.

Mr Kinsley spoke, “It is hard to believe that he is gone. I saw him last night when the lights went out. I came over to see if you were alright, then Archie arrived. I left thinking everything should be fine.”

“Mrs Kinsley…your accident?” Mrs Babbage asked, utterly confused, and a cold realisation slowly creeping in.

Mr and Mrs Kinsley exchanged looks, and Mrs Kinsley said, “I’m alright, thank you. I stayed over at the hospital for a couple of days.” She tapped her head, “Had a concussion.”

The Kinsley’s left, leaving a howling and broken down woman in the doorway.  They walked back to their house, and went up to their bedroom to change for supper with the Holmes. The room was newly repainted and a mat covered the small blood stain that Mr Kinsley could not quite get out.

“Do you think Berta suspects anything?” Mrs Kinsley asked as she buttoned up her blouse.

“I don’t think so.” Mr Kinsley said. They finished up and walked out the front door, locking it.

Mrs Kinsley slipped her arm into Mr Kinsley’s and said, “Those are beautiful flowers, darling.” They got into their car and drove to the Holmes, for good laughs and great food.

On the other side of the Kinsley’s front garden, were newly planted flowers. They grew magnificently over time, feeding off the rich composted earth. The roots grew and entwined the secret of the earth’s richness, giving thanks to the little decomposing frame of Chipsy the cat.

The End