Roadside people

. . .and flung herself into her father's arms. Skelton automatically held and soothed her, but his thoughts were whirling. Aunt Sybil?

"What has happened?" he asked. "And how long have you been here? I thought you were taking the twins down to your mother's this half-term?" He wished that Prudence and the boys were not here. The timing could not have been worse.

"She has gone!" sobbed Prudence. "Vanished!. No-one has seen her since first thing this morning. We had rushed up after she left a message last night on the answer phone. I tried to contact you, but your phone was dead. She was in bed when we got here, fast asleep and looking unworried, so I put the boys to bed, and went to bed myself. I though it was another of her ploys to get the family to come running. In fact, I thought you would be there too, and the cousins."

"The phone was . . out of order" he explained. No need to tell her it had been cut off when the phone bill was unpaid yet again. "So what did Aunt Sybil say?"

"She said someone was trying to murder her, and she did not trust anyone."

Skelton stood there with his mouth open.

The man in the car was gesticulating and waving an umbrella.
"What is HE doing here?" muttered Skelton.

It was Harcombe Bottom. What did he want? - wherever he went trouble followed in his wake. Then he noticed Grinacombe Moor lurking in the back of the car, that permanent ridiculous smile on his face as he leered out at Prudence.

Surely not - they could not have ?? Not Aunt Sybil! Worse still the twins, darling Prudence's boys, Weare and Aveton Gifford.

Heaven forbid! Skelton felt in his pocket for his mobile - but it was dead!
Where were the cousins when you needed them?

At that moment the rain began to come down in huge torrents.
Thunder roared overhead, and the cows started to push in at the gate to be milked...

Skelton pulled Prudence in at the farm door.
The farm dogs surrounded the car and all growled at the occupants.

Harcombe was about to open the car door to follow Skelton and Prudence into the farmhouse, but hesitated at the sight of three ferocious-looking dogs of various mixed parentage circling his BMW with slavering mouths. "We'd better wait here for a bit", he temporised. He hoped the paintwork wasn't marked by the one with its front paws on his door and its nose smearing the half-open window.The rain was driving in against his shoulder. He pressed the button to close the window. The two estate agents sat in the increasingly steamy car impatiently.

In the kitchen, Prudence was recovering. "The boys are with the housekeeper. Agnes says her sister has two boys about the same age - one a year older, the other a year younger - so they can play together. That will keep them occupied." Agnes Burton had been housekeeper up at Headington Hall for twenty years, and was a rock to depend on. Her sister Kelly Brae had married the factor, Ricahard Askham, and lived in sight of the big house. 10 year-old Brian and 12-year-old Richard had inherited her flaming red hair and fearless nature.

"I hate to think of what mischief those four will get into" commented Skelton. "But who saw Aunt Sybil last this morning, and where?"

He needed to get all the information he could before he could do anything ...and meanwhile the cows were beginning to make loud mooings in the yard....he couldn't leave the milking, but who was going to do it?
The car and dogs were now surrounded by fifty cows, all pushing and shoving to get to the milking parlour which was blocked off because of where the car was parked.

And - oh dear, his own 4-by-4 was in the local garage!

Skelton could hear the sound of a distant vehicle - could it be that Prudence's husband, Hittsleigh Barton, had come home unexpectedly from his trip to the States?
A Lexus purred into the farmyard and the three ferocious hounds suddenly became three tail-wagging dogs, barking excitedly as an immaculate figure stepped from the car. The cows backed away nervously.
"What the hell" exclaimed Hittsleigh - "Where are my wife and the boys - I have been trying to phone all afternoon - the mobiles go to message bank and the landline was permanently engaged! Aunt Sybil telephoned me yesterday and sounded very mysterious. She told me I must get the first flight home!"

"Let's have your phone" snapped Skelton. "We need to phone the police."
He rapidly brought Hittsleigh up to date with what he knew, while waiting for the answer.
However, the duty policeman at the other end was not encouraging.
"She's an adult, yes? And has not been missing for very long? You wait a bit and phone anyone else who may have seen her. Come back to us if you have no joy....."

"I still don't know enough" Skelton said." - who saw her last?"

Aunt Sybil was having a glorious time. Dicky heart or not, she'd decided upon one last adventure.

Sybil had always longed to visit Darjeeling - having enjoyed that champagne of teas for so long she had always had a yearning to visit the place with such an enticing and exotic name. She knew that had she mentioned to Prudence that she was mulling over ideas of one last great adventure before she went to meet her Maker, Prue would have lived up to her name and discouraged any such ideas.

The organised tour was just the ticket - the tour organiser charming and helpful and here she was at 30,000 feet - on her way to the foothills of the Himalayas with an exciting two weeks of excursions planned!

She giggled to herself. She had called Hittsleigh home and he had no idea why! She assumed they would find her note eventually, but they would have to do a lot of guessing.....

I've been off line for a few days and the developments in the Headingley case are astounding me!

(Go with the flow?)

What creative imaginations we have! I can't wait to read on.

I thought this was supposed to be a murder mystery!

(It just hasn't happened yet!)

(Wait a bit, we are all still setting the scene!)

Please keep going, it's wonderful!

But I am now about to lower the tone considerably. Weare and Aveton, put your hands over your ears.

We went to collect a garden table and chairs from a house in nearby Norfolk. To get to it - we nearly had an accident. Just a couple of hundred yards from the house was a road sign. 'Sluts Hole Lane'. Needless to say, being as childish impulsive as we are, we stopped and took each other's photos standing next to it. Dreadful photos of us both looking solemn, because we were both too worried in case anyone we knew passed us doing such a daft thing as to stand next to such a very rude sign!

You can't have the murder on page one, you have to establish the characters and the whereabouts of everyone at the critical moment. As nw people seem to be appearing with every post that could take some time.

It is nice that Aunt Sybil is still alive and kicking, though I imagine her family will kick her when they find out how she has b'd off and left them all panicking.

(Could we possibly keep the comments in brackets? I would make it easier to read the story!)

(Quite often the murder is in the first chapter, if not the first page, Elegran!)

(I think you can't kill someone off before you know who they are? Yes sometimes they do but I think it's better the other way...)

(Sorry Alie.

If the murder follows the introduction of the characters, you can have fun guessing who is about to be bumped off and why, as well as whodunnit.)

(I know, but I'd already assumed it was going to be Aunt Sybil, and now the wind has been taken out of my sails! )

(I mean, I know it still might be...)