Scribblers, a friendly writing-for-pleasure group, is keen to welcome new members. Please come along to our next meeting at the Christique Antique Centre tearoom in West Street (opposite the United Reformed Church), which is closed at present to the public.
As well as our regular writing routines we’re trying out a Murder Mystery at our next meeting on Tuesday 8 February from 10am to noon. Don’t write anything beforehand, but on the day you’ll be asked to spend about 10 minutes writing a statement and describing who you are for the benefit of Inspector Smarty-Pants.
Here’s the scenario:
Lucille flung open the tearoom door with a flourish. “Welcome, everyone!” she called. “My tearoom is open!” The small queue entered the antique-laden room, settling themselves at tables decorated with crisp white tablecloths then gazing appreciatively at brightly painted walls, old pictures, cabinets filled with old crockery and a beautiful art-deco statuette of a dancing woman. Menus promised tearoom delights – scones, cakes, sandwiches, even croque monsieur – after all, Lucille was half-French. Dark-haired, with large brown eyes, she was often mistaken for Spanish, especially as she spoke both languages fluently. She was also an expert in antiques and had taken great pleasure in filling her tearoom with purchases from auctions.
She hovered by the kitchen as she watched her customers in a moment of peace before the onslaught of orders. “If only they knew,” she thought. Weeks and months of hard work, bargaining and negotiating deals had taken their toll. Starting her own business would never be easy, this she knew, but many obstacles had been thrown in her direction and she’d had to do several ‘deals’ that she’d rather forget about.
But today her dream had come true. The kitchen was filled with ready-made sandwiches, plates of scones, pots of jam, cakes; all was ready.
Customers soon made themselves at home, ordering pots of tea, cakes, sandwiches, visiting the immaculate toilets and wandering around to admire the antiques. She even sold one of them, an old teapot, for a very good price.
Halfway through the afternoon, around 3pm, a loud scream, followed by a gurgling, came from the kitchen. People dropped cake in their laps, spilt tea and turned almost as one towards the kitchen. A few, braver than most, tiptoed through the door. Sitting at the table, her brown eyes wide open, one hand clutched at her throat, the other holding a half-eaten cupcake, was Lucille. “Ba… ba… ba…” she gasped; then fell sideways, dead.
“Someone phone 999!”
It seemed that only moments later the door was flung open. “Inspector Smarty-Pants!” she announced with a flourish. “Don’t worry, we’ll find the murderer. He – or she – will give themselves away sooner or later… ” She walked slowly around the circle of suspects, looking each one deep in the eyes.
“Tell me about yourself. Everything!”
See you on Tuesday 8 February at 10am to find out who-dunnit…
• Phone Pat on 07867 558284 if you’d like to know more.