15

Humphrey couldn't describe it if he tried. It defied metaphors. It was, in his very best description, an absolute mess. Not a tragedy, because they were only greenhouses. Not even a disaster. To use those words would do real disasters and tragedies a severe disservice. It was a mess. A stupid, avoidable mess. One perpetrated by a wicked outsider, the other by a neighbour with an understandable, if misplaced, anger.

In the soft, warming light of day, it didn't look any less than a mess. Both greenhouses were now reduced to metal frames with a few remaining pieces of glass clinging to them. Teetering. Ready to fall and join the carpet of shards and slivers of glass that littered both gardens. Even birds appeared to avoid the skeletons of the greenhouses, through fear they would cut their claws upon some hidden, sharp edge.

No matter how long he looked at the greenhouses, they didn't suddenly repair themselves. They stood as testimony to the foolishness of humans. Well, the foolishness of Cornelius. Humphrey felt no shame in embracing the smug thought that he had, still, done nothing wrong. That didn't make his greenhouse whole again, but it gave him a modicum of self-satisfaction. He sipped his tea as he surveyed the destruction.

Cornelius had set about smashing Humphrey's greenhouse with a long stick, at first, trying hard not to get caught by flying, shattered glass. Then he had resorted to throwing stones, except that Humphrey didn't like having loose stones in his garden and Cornelius soon ran out of missiles. After attempting to launch one of the large stones that had once sat as part of the dry-stone wall between their gardens and only sending it a couple of feet from where he stood, Cornelius gave it up. Job done. Finished. Mostly.

It was a mess. The whole thing, from beginning to end. The two turnips and a cucumber, all the way to this. And not a decent reason for any of it. He remembered the old woman, hobbling away the night before as though she hadn't set in motion all this foolishness. He resented her. Resented her even more now that she had spoiled his trip to Aruba, which he was not, he found to his annoyance, about to get a refund for.

"Humphrey? Old boy?" He felt a hand fall upon his shoulder and couldn't find comfort in it. "He's called an emergency committee meeting. I think this is it. Your family's history with the community centre or no, I think he's had enough."

He had expected it. After a fashion. In truth, Cornelius had wanted Humphrey gone for years. Not through any personal animosity, up until recent events, but because Cornelius wanted all the power, to have people he wanted upon the committee. To have complete control. Humphrey always told him he could have it, but Cornelius never managed to win the vote. Total control, to Humphrey, meant Cornelius would hold the purse strings. Which, at last count, amounted to a little less than five-hundred pounds. Hardly a conglomerate.

Without saying anything, Humphrey leaned in to his cottage, putting the mug on the counter, and then closed the door. He allowed Audrey to lead the way, like an executioner leading the condemned. Until Humphrey stopped as they joined the street. He looked at the ground and then crouched, touching something.

"Audrey? Does this look like blood to you?" He smelled the residue upon his fingers but he had no idea what dried blood should smell like. He raised his head, looking one way and then the other. "Look. It seems to come from between mine and Cornelius' cottages and then moves that way, towards the edge of the village. The exact same direction Ursula took last night. And she was limping."

"It could be blood, I suppose." She stepped away from the trail of blood, grimacing. She had a terrible fear of blood and injuries. "I don't see what you're trying to say, old boy."

"Isn't it obvious." By the look on Audrey's face, it was not at all obvious, so he continued to explain. "She got caught by some glass when she destroyed Cornelius' greenhouse! Of course it's obvious. She tried running this way, but saw me at the taxi, waited for Cornelius to arrive and then, poof, appeared from nowhere. I have her now!"

He balled his hand into a fist and gazed into the distance, imagining unmasking Ursula's underhand, destructive actions to everyone. She probably sat there now, in the community centre, ready to use her newly given power of the vote to remove him from the committee. And laughing. Oh, he could imagine that cackling, gurgling laugh. She'd think she had won. Far from it, Ursula! Far, far from it.

Wasting no time, Humphrey began to walk, very fast, towards the community centre. He would have run, but he felt certain he'd pulled something vital while running the night before. He still moved fast, even though he had no need to. The committee would await his arrival, even if he sauntered. He disliked sauntering more than he disliked running. Regardless, he soon arrived at the community centre and stood before the open doorway, girding himself for what lay ahead.

The community centre loomed above him. Well, it made a good attempt at looming above him, but it was only a small building. Humphrey would have preferred a good loom. It would make his entrance into this hall of the damned far more epic. He heard the sound of the stray dog howling, but he couldn't allow chasing the poor animal to get in his way. Even though it sounded as though it were in pain.

With one last tug at the hem of his cashmere sleeveless sweater, he started to climb the single, solitary step into the community centre. He didn't even look to see whether Audrey had followed him. He had laser focus on one thing. Bringing Ursula to justice. He turned the corner from the little hallway into the main hall and saw Cornelius. He glared at the door over interlinked fingers, his elbows resting on the table. His eyes narrowing as he saw Humphrey enter.

To his left, Frida sat. To prove exactly how serious the situation was, she hadn't brought her crocheting with her. Or, at least, she hadn't taken it out of her bag. Yet. To Cornelius' right sat the old woman. Ursula. And, as Cornelius had narrowed his eyes at Humphrey, Humphrey narrowed his at Ursula. Ursula snored, her hands resting upon her waist. It was an excitable night for her, last night.

Humphrey strode towards the table that sat before him, one, lonely chair, facing the others. Before Cornelius could raise his head and begin to speak, Humphrey slapped his hand upon the surface of the table. The slap made everyone jump, including Humphrey. His hand stung a little. He hadn't intended using as much force, but he swallowed the pain. Ursula had also jumped, waking and grimacing, her hand reaching down to her leg.

"Ee gods! What's all the to do?" She rubbed her knee and then saw Humphrey. The grimace turned to a sly smile. "Tha's here, is tha? I knew tha'd come, I did. Knew it."

"Of course you knew I'd come, you disingenuous old bat!" His hand raised to his mouth, shocked that he had said something so insulting. He couldn't let that stop him, though. "Of course you knew because Cornelius sent for me."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Audrey take her place at the other side of the table. She looked a little sheepish, joining the others to sit in judgment of him. Although he knew she sided with him on most things, he couldn't help but feel that, this time, she couldn't defend him as she once would have. Everything did look a little damning from an outside perspective.

"Humphrey, I have convened the committee to ..." Cornelius stood, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of a splendid black, velvet waistcoat, but Humphrey stopped him cold with a glare and a pointed finger.

"Shut up." As Cornelius gaped, his mouth opening and closing, Humphrey moved that finger to point towards Ursula. "You've all fallen for this woman's lies and games, but I'm here to prove my innocence. Last night, Cornelius' greenhouse suffered a great deal of damage. Damage that could only have been caused by standing inside the greenhouse and loosening, or cutting, the strings that opened and closed the roof windows."

He leaned upon the table, looking into the eyes of all his accusers. Even Audrey. He had seen enough American courtroom dramas to have learned a thing or two about presenting a case. He had their attention. He needed to hold it and show them, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Ursula had framed him.

"Oh, I do hope you know what you're doing, old boy." Under her breath, Audrey whispered to him. "This had better be phenomenal."

"It would seem inconceivable that anyone could have performed that destruction and leave the greenhouse unharmed. Indeed, just this morning, I found evidence that the culprit did, in fact, injure themselves. That the culprit caught a piece of falling glass that caused them to bleed profusely and ... to give them a noticeable limp." While he talked, he stalked from one end of the table to the other, stopping beside Ursula. "Ladies and gentleman, I give you 'Exhibit A'!"

Before anyone could move, or say anything, if they were, indeed, going to move or say anything, Humphrey bent down, grabbed the hem of Ursula's thick woollen skirt and lifted it, revealing her wrinkled stockinged legs. He gazed at the others in triumph.

And blacked out as Ursula hit him with her gnarled old walking stick.