Well, you’ll never guess where Mr. Tinsley has gone to. No, not the dad; he never goes anywhere interesting. Simon. He’s off cruising the Arctic Circle with his mate Phil. I tell you I wouldn’t fancy it, all those Russians and nothing but ice for miles, but Ann thought he’d enjoy it. To tell you the truth, I think she wanted him out of her hair and someplace safe for a spell. Can’t say as I blame her. He’s not the most trustworthy man, you know. Still, if she’s sending him to the Pole now, what’s she going to do after they’re married and his eyes start to wander? Siberia? I suppose he must have picked up a few useful words by now, so even that wouldn’t be safe!
The house is so quiet now that the film crew has gone back to London. Doesn’t seem natural. I mean, Simon and Phil are away, and even Mr. Tinsley Sr. has taken to nipping off to the pub of an evening. Chester was poking about on some fool’s errand for a bit, but he’s gone home with his tail between his legs again. You’d think he’d learn. He’s a grown man, isn’t he? Making up feeble excuses to come visit and smearing my good name in the process… Infestation indeed! Well, never mind. With the wedding coming up, the house will be full again.
What was that? Martin? Is that you, love? Hold on, I’ll
just be a minute. Did you fall? You ought to be careful, you silly fool.
You’re not getting any younger. Martin? Oh good God! Call an ambulance!
It’s Martin! I don’t think he’s breathing…