Death Waits for Some Men

Chapter III: In Which the Tea Tastes Strange

He had that self-reproachful feeling of having been remiss which comes to Generals who wake up one morning to discover that they have carelessly allowed themselves to be outflanked. -- P. G. Wodehouse, Cocktail Time

"Well, of all the stupid, imbecilic, ridiculous, bone-headed..."

Nancy continued in this vein for a while. Finally she ran out of synonyms for "idiotic". Ruth suspected she had checked the thesaurus and memorised the full list before starting her lecture.

"You forgot 'unintelligent' and brainless'," Ruth said when Nancy stopped for breath.

Nancy glared at her. "Do you want a chair thrown at your head? No? Shut up!"

Ruth sighed. "It was a dumb idea and it failed. Now let's stop talking about it. What are we going to do instead?"

~~~~

As it turned out, the next move didn't come from them.

Louise swept around the house like a whirlwind, packing everything and arranging to have the furniture moved in record time. Before anyone knew what was happening, the date was already set for them officially moving into the new house.

Then it was upon them, and chaos reigned as everyone tried at once to sort their belongings out of the pile in the middle of the floor.

Louise had labelled all of the boxes. None of the labels had stuck. Nancy opened a box that she thought she recognised as containing all her clothes. Instead she found her father's shoes. Ruth searched for her books and found more cushions than she'd ever known they owned.

"Where did all these lampshades come from?" Louise complained.

"Why do we have fifteen hair-dryers?" Stephen asked.

Nancy called out, "Has anyone seen my pencils?"

"Where are all the plates? And the cutlery? And the cups?" Ruth wondered.

After an hour everyone sat down in the middle of the wreckage. Nancy was so tired that she didn't even mind that she was sitting on a shaggy, bright pink rug. It was one of Louise's, thrown rather than placed in the hall to give the place a splash of colour. Normally Nancy would have sooner picked up a tarantula than touched it.

"I think we should have some tea," Louise said. Those were the first sensible words Nancy had ever heard from her.

Ruth groaned. "How? I've only found one cup, and the teapot must be buried somewhere in a box we haven't opened yet. I can't even find the kettle!"

"We have a kettle in the kitchen," Louise said. "Remember? I bought it. And if we can't find cups, we'll use saucers. Have you found any of those?"

"Five. And they're all cracked," Stephen said flatly.

He and Louise were sitting on the stairs with open boxes piled around them. He reached into one of them and took out a saucer to prove his point. Nancy couldn't see the cracks from where she was sitting on the floor. Louise peered at it, then shrugged.

"Then we'll use bowls! Where are they?"

"In the box with the quilts," Nancy said, pointing vaguely towards several boxes all overflowing with bedding.

Louise stood up. She picked her steps gingerly down the stairs. One of the boxes wobbled ominously. Porcelain clinked inside it. Stephen grabbed it before it fell. 

"Careful! You nearly broke all our plates!" he exclaimed.

Louise ignored him. She'd reached the floor, sprinted over to the box of quilts, picked it up, and started for the kitchen before he finished speaking. Stephen, Nancy and Ruth watched in various stages of surprise as she disappeared into the kitchen.