It's Supposed To End In My Mind, My Baby

Here is part 47 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”.

There is another quiz question associated with the part number. I’d never heard of the artists or the song, still, it’s a doddle if you know the answer.

OK, the quiz question out of the way, here is my mantra. This is a serial. Any new-joiners should start with the opener known as Part One.    

The troublesome recap has now settled into its new home. You can find the recap here!

Now read on...

Jones took half a step back towards the restaurant before shaking his head and walking slowly back towards the parked Datsun. As he walked, he examined the business card in his hand. It was the same as before, “Postulant Wayne Bright, Our Lady of the Assumption” with a mobile phone number.

“Not even an actual priest.” Jones said to the Datsun as he climbed in.

The Datsun gave a short “proop” as Jones tucked the card into a loose panel on the dashboard.

For the rest of the journey home, Jones stayed silent, ignoring various inquisitive noises from the car. When he reached his home, he remained in the car for a several minutes, staring blankly ahead at the back of Pippa’s Mercedes. At last he gave a sigh and with a quiet groan climbed out of the Datsun and went inside.

The house smelt of frying onions and cabbage. Jones threw his flying jacket over the banisters and headed for the lounge where he collapsed into an easy chair.

“You’re back!” Pippa peered around the door to the kitchen at Jones. “Dinner won’t be long. You relax and I’ll bring you a beer.

Jones kept his eyes closed and said nothing.

“You better switch on the news. There’s something you’ll want to see.” Pippa shouted from the kitchen.

The news channel was showing a crowd marching on Trafalgar Square with banners demanding a state funeral for Horace Adkins. The reporter on the ground was describing the mood as fun and good natured as the camera panned to a group dressed as Clement Atlee carrying a litter with bust of Horace Adkins made of recycled tin cans.

Pippa came in with the beer, handed it to Jones and sat on the arm of his chair.

“This lot were what me late home. I had to go the long way round.” Jones grumbled and took a sip of beer.

“This isn’t it.” Pippa ruffled his hair playfully.

The news station cut back to the studio and a stern faced newsreader dressed in a garish striped blazer with a clashing orange cravat. Behind him, a picture of Archie McRamie’s book, “The Cat Crowed at a Little After Two-thirty” came up on the graphic.

Jones choked on his beer and leaned forward.

The newsreader, in solemn tone, talked of a story that would appear in the next day’s Guardian newspaper that would allege that the events in the book were sanctioned at the very highest levels of Government and that the Prime Minister, Simon Cowell, had sanctioned them personally. 

“There, what do you make of that?” Pippa reached down to the remote control and turned off the television. “It turns out that Horace Adkins is a national hero.”

“You’ve changed your tune.” Jones looked up  at his wife. “On Monday you were linking Adkins to the macramé trade.”

“Me?” Pippa’s voice was a high pitched squeak. “I would never do such a thing. Horace Adkins was such a wonderful man.”

Jones looked at her then sagged back into the chair. “Besides, I knew about Adkins working for the government. Joanne Schooner, Archie’s agent, told me all about it today. When I discussed it with somebody at the station, they already knew. It isn’t much of a surprise.”

“Really?” Pippa’s eryes widened, then narrowed. “Are you saying that people have been trying to hush this up?”

Jones gave a weak laugh and shook his head. “You and your conspiracy theories.”

“Goes with the territory, darling.” Pippa kissed him on the forehead. “So why was it that you gave such a start when you saw the story on the news?”

“Sorry, to disappoint, but I thought they were going to announce that Archie had been abducted and as you know, that story is being kept under wraps just in case it is a kidnapping.”

“Aha! I knew it, Archie has been kidnapped!” Pippa stood up and grinned.

Jones gave a tired laugh. “No, my love, we don’t know what has happened to Archie; just that he is missing, presumed abducted. Trust me, as soon as I having something to tell the press, you’ll be the first to know.”

Pippa observed Jones closely. “Just make sure that I am. Now come on, let’s eat. I’m famished.”