Mon. Sep 26th, 2022

Outside a fine drizzle was coating plant, tree, grass and kerbside. Inside the Frog and Radiator, a fire burned warm and bright taking the chill out of the bone. The house was heaving as per usual with villagers, out of towners and even the odd tourist gathered within. Being odd was de rigeur in Fekenham. Oddness was welcomed even if no one in the village really thought either themselves or others odd. The Merryfeather sister’s typified that sensibility. they weren’t sisters at all but no one really cared except for perhaps Millie Mead whose sole purpose in life was to gossip.
Tilly Velvet and Pippa Tipping, the Sisters Merryfeather, first moved to Fekenham in 1968.  Originally from London where the pair had run a detective agency. Pippa, then twenty-three,  Tilly a year older. Of the two Pippa was the taller at five feet six. She was slim and awfully enthusiastic in a hell for leather sort of way. Her naturally positive nature sometimes getting the better of her common sense. She was no one’s fool though but of the two she was the risk taker. Pippa was shorter by some four inches,  plump, matronly even and considered.  Seeing them now forty years from the apogee of their former careers it was hard to believe they had been at the heart of swinging London during the sixties.
This evening, as was their wont, they had encamped to a favourite corner of the Frog where a long table was placed which seated six. At the furthest end of the table sat the Sister’s Merryfeather, at the other end was Ethel Blowvalve, along the sides were Ruth Buckshot and her best friend, Violet Springheel whilst on the other side sat Millie Meade. Each member of the gathering had their tipple of choice in front of them.

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