Ten quid and all the time in the world, that’s what Nigel had in his pocket when he pushed open the garden gate and stepped out onto the pavement. He turned up towards the High Street and started whistling a nameless tune, he was going to get a bite at the new Chinese take-away and eat it at the pub. He quite fancied a pint or two with his mates – Ginny was working tonight too so that was a bonus.
At the Mei Garden Take-Away he got a double order of Kung Pao Chicken. Mrs. Lee packed it up and sent him on his way. He went straight to the Royal Oak and was pleased to see Ginny behind the bar, William and Paul were holding down a small table by the window.
“Evenin’ Ginny,” he said, “Can I have a pint o’ Best and another of whatever Paul and William are each havin’ for them.”
She nodded, “whatcha got in the bag, Nigel?” she asked him. “Better not be cats!”
He leaned in close and whispered, “I got some take-away from that new Chinese place up the road. Can ye bring us a couple o’ plates and some forks too, Ginny?”
“Aww, geeze Nige,”she screwed up her face, “ye canna let Malcolm see ya eatin’ outside food in here. He’ll lose it!”
Nigel smiled at her and she put three bowls and three forks on the bar, “go on then, eat fast and bring these back here as soon as ye finish, so I can wash ’em up. I’ll fetch the beers.”
Nigel leaned over the bar and gave her a peck on the cheek, “Yer a peach Ginny, ya are.” He turned and headed over to the table with William and Paul. “Hail fellows well met,” he bellowed as he doled out the bowls and split up the Kung Pao. Then more softly he added, “Eat quickly lads or face the wrath of Maid Ginny and Sir Malcolm.”
They all tucked into their food. Ginny brought a round of drinks and when they finished, Paul took the incriminating evidence back to the bar. Their crime had gone undetected, as Malcolm was still out back, doing whatever it was that he was doing back there.
Nigel went through the bag but Mrs. Lee had only sent one fortune cookie.
“We only got the one, lads,” Nigel said to his mates. “I reckon we oughta give it to Ginny on account o’ her being so accommodatin’ an all.” It was agreed; and when she brought the next round they presented her the biscuit with plenty of fanfare and aplomb. She opened it straightaway, studied the small slip of paper for a moment, folded it in half and slipped it into her brassiere; she winked at the lads and turned back to the bar.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Ginny, what’s it say?” they all asked.
Ginny just looked back at them over her shoulder, she smiled, popped half of the cookie into her mouth, and kept walking. She waved to Mr. Skipworth as he came through the door.
OK – I’m going to tread all over TBP territory and issue a challenge. If you actually read all the way to the end of this, and you’re not too shy. Continue it on your blog and link it back to TBP here. This, of course, will be in addition to your response to the original prompt.
Might be fun.