Riverside
The village prepares to see Mike on TV!
IT’S a smart little motor,” George said, giving admiring glances at the red sports car. Dave walked round to the back of the car, taking in its European number plates.
“I wonder who it belongs to?” he said.
“Must have cost a pretty penny, too,” George said.
“It’s probably one of your customers, Dave. I can’t see anyone around here driving a motor like this.
“Now your dad’s been on TV showing off his cakemaking skills, the word’s spread far and wide about the cuisine at the Old Engine Room.”
The two men walked from the car park into the deli. Dave headed towards the kitchen while George took a seat next to Mary and Ruby, who had been waiting for him.
“Did you uncover the mystery of the red car?” Ruby smiled, looking out of the window.
George shook his head. “No, but it’s lovely. Whoever it belongs to must have taste.”
Mary glanced at her watch.
“We’ll have to order soon. I want to get to the Ship in time to get a decent seat to watch Mike on TV.”
“Fancy Mike getting through to the finals of the Great Cake competition,” Ruby said. “Who’d have thought it?”
“What are you having to eat, George?” Mary asked.
He scanned the menu. Dave had already warned him that Clive the chef had recently changed it all.
Just when George was getting used to the Spanish meats and cheeses on the old menu, there was a confusing world of new flavours for him to choose from.
He was still wondering what to plump for when Susan came to take their order. Mary and Ruby knew what they were going to have and Susan complimented them both on their choices.
“Dad?” Susan asked, her electronic order pad held ready. “Have you decided what you’re going to have?”
George looked at Mary. “I’m not good with all this foreign stuff,” he said. “I liked the beef casserole that Clive had on the old menu, but it’s not on this one.” He pointed halfway down the list. “I’m not sure if I’d like these sauces, and I’ve never even heard of that fish.”
Mary detected the faintest trace of a moan starting up in his voice.
“I’ll tell you what,” Susan said. “There’s something I know you’ll love.” She pointed to the bottom of the menu where there was a list of items mainly written in Spanish. “It’s
empanadas served with
patatas fritas.”
“If you say it’s good, I’ll have it,” George replied, smiling at her. “But what’s that when it’s at home?”
“It’s Spanish, Dad,” Susan replied. “For pie and chips!”
After their meal, Ruby and Mary walked along the riverside to the Ship. George lingered behind after walking twice around the red car which was still parked in the deli’s car park.
“Lovely little motor,” he muttered to himself as he walked to catch up with his wife.
“Do you think Mike will win?” Mary asked her friend, but Ruby was quick to shake her head.
“No,” she said firmly. “He’s up against professional bakers, competing against people who have been doing this for years.
“Mike’s been thrown into the mix as a bit of a novelty. The telly loves him, that’s for sure, but he won’t win. Do you think he’ll win, Mary?”
As usual, without waiting for a reply, Ruby carried straight on.
“What does George think? Where is he anyway?” Ruby stopped talking and nudged her friend. “Mary, look, on the riverside.”
Mary turned.
A man was standing on the riverside peering through a pair of binoculars. Despite the warmth of the summer evening, he was dressed in camouflage clothes from head to foot.
His body was wrapped in a green and black anorak and he had a flat cap on his head. In front of him stood a camera on a tripod.
As Mary and Ruby watched, they saw George head over to him.
“If anyone asks, you haven’t seen me,” the stranger said to George as he approached. “If they find out I’m here, they’ll all want to come, and this riverside isn’t big enough.”
The man brought out a flask and poured tea into a plastic cup.
“What’s going on?” George asked, intrigued.
The man pointed out to the river.
“It’s only the second time they’ve been spotted this far north on the British mainland. It’s not their natural habitat. It’s the warm weather we’ve been having – it’s blown them off course.”
“Who?” George persisted. “Wild parrots,” the man replied. “Mind you, it’s not the birds you need to be worried about. Wait until the army of birdwatchers invade your riverside, jostling for the best spot. That’s when you need to worry.”
Just then another man appeared, then another, then two together. They were all wearing the same camouflage coats and carrying the same kind of cameras.
“Too late,” the man said, shaking his head. “Looks like the invasion of the twitchers has begun.”
More next week.