***
Ophelia Palace was situated just across the river Dee, near the ‘Bridge of Faeries’ and was very, very pink. Several local farmers did a roaring trade providing sunglasses for anyone visiting. Word of Baron Blacktie’s visit and its potential consequences had been seized upon by Ophelia, Mara and Roisin as an excuse to arrange a party… not that they normally needed one.
‘So, who else have you invited?’ said Mara, as Ophelia scrolled through the invitation list.
‘I’ve asked most of my aerobics class, they’ll definitely be up for it.’
‘In more ways than one, from what I’ve heard,’ laughed Roisin. Ophelia gave her a withering look and continued.
‘I’m going to invite Mr Kneepatcher, because he’s hilarious, and I’m going to ask Cracky to come and bring some nibbles. Then there’s that lovely Charles Corriedale and his nephew, Cliff. Oh, and Oriana Oftsheared as well. I think she and Cliff are becoming a bit of an item.’
‘And?’ said Mara.
‘Oh, and I’ll ask those nice boys who sing on the farm. I think one of them has his eye on you.’
‘Which one?’
‘You know, the short one with the mousey hair and the funny nose.’
‘Walter Muddywellies? You can’t be serious!’ Mara said, aghast. ‘He picks his nose and eats it. Now, are you absolutely sure there isn’t ANYONE else you should be inviting?’
‘No, I think that’s about it,’ Ophelia said, smiling.
‘Ophy, you know who I mean!’ Mara screeched.
Ophelia pretended to scroll through the invites once more, ticking everyone off on her list. ‘Oh my, how could I be so forgetful?’
‘At last,’ Mara said.
‘I’ll ask Vindy and Tikky to come along as well, while they’re in town.’
Mara looked her straight in the eye and fluttered her wings in a threatening fashion. ‘… and I’ll invite Aiden,’ Ophelia sighed.
Mara’s smile was both beautiful and very wide. Then the doorbell rang.
‘Hello, my name is Mr Ping and this is my assistant, Mr Pong,’ the man with the briefcase said, when Roisin opened the door. ‘We are Drifting Feng Shui Practitioners seeking to offer our expertise to only the most exclusive households.’
‘Yes, no riff raff,’ said Mr Pong.
‘We are told that there is a need for cleansing in this charming palace, which we will achieve by aromatic furniture arranging, spurious Tai Chi and clandestine Tao Te Ching narrating,’ Mr Ping said.
‘And don’t forget the cushion-puffing,’ reminded Mr Pong.
‘Of, course,’ said Mr Ping. ‘Cushion-puffing is a prerequisite of any attuned abode. We puff cushions like you’ve never seen.’
‘We’re indeed champion puffers,’ added Mr Pong.
Roisin looked closely at the two men, feeling some vague sense of recognition. They both wore large top-hats and had matching round glasses. ‘Haven’t we met somewhere before?’ she said.
Mr Ping showed no sign of concern at this announcement and produced a card, handing it to Roisin. ‘It is a possibility, my dear lady. Mr Pong and I have Feng Shui’d quite a bit in this area in the past.’
‘Yes, we’ve been positively rampant,’ said Mr Pong. ‘Some of clients can’t get enough of it.’
Roisin examined the card, eyeing the two of them with more than a hint of suspicion. ‘Wait here, please. I need to speak to the Queen,’ she said, walking back to the drawing room.
‘Ophy, there are two odd-looking men outside claiming to be Drifting Feng Shui Practitioners. Do you know anything about this?’
‘Oh, yes. I remember asking Filbert, the accountant, to hire someone to give the place a new look last week. Are they expecting to stay for a few days?’
‘I’m not sure, Ophy, I’ll ask them. Shall I arrange rooms if they are?’
‘Yes, thanks, Roisin,’ the Queen said, ‘they can make a start first thing in the morning.’
‘It appears you are expected,’ Roisin said, as she approached the front door. ‘The Queen wishes to know how long you will be staying.’
Mr Ping looked at Mr Pong and smiled. ‘Our work in a palace of this grandiosity would take at least two days by my reckoning, would you not agree, Mr Pong?’
‘Two days? Yes, I would have thought so.’
‘Well then, I’ll get the butler to arrange appropriate accommodation,’ Roisin said, still feeling slightly uneasy. ‘Will you be starting first thing in the morning?’
‘Why that would be most excellent, dear lady. First thing in the morning is fine by us, isn’t that so, Mr Pong?’
‘Fine, indeed,’ agreed Mr Pong.
‘Well, then, I’ll go and get Jarvis to show you to your rooms.’
‘Oh, we will only require the one room,’ said Mr Pong.
Roisin smiled for the first time in the conversation. ‘I see,’ she said, winking. ‘Well I hope you gentlemen have a pleasant night together.’
Mr Ping looked at Mr Pong, as both of their faces reddened appreciably. ‘Ah, I think you do not understand our situation, dear lady,’ said Mr Ping. ‘Ours is a purely professional relationship. Cohabiting simply allows us to discuss the finer arts of our trade. We will often stay awake until the wee hours going through the ups and downs.’
‘And the ins and outs,’ added Mr Pong.
Jarvis escorted them to one of the more luxurious guest rooms, carried in their bags and bade them goodnight. ‘Well, that was easy,’ said Nob.
‘You have to remember we are dealing with simpletons, way below the level of our intellect,’ Hob replied. ‘It is indeed child’s play to weave our insidious schemes in such circumstances.’
Hob placed his briefcase into a nearby pink wardrobe and went over to the drinks cabinet. ‘Shall we indulge in a glass of champagne, as a toast to our skill, endeavour and genius?’
‘Why not,’ Nob said. ‘Tomorrow we shall gain entrance to the mine, obtain the cheese and collect our sizeable fee from the Baron.’
‘Although we may have to puff a few cushions first,’ Hob said, popping the cork of the bottle.
He poured the champagne into two large flutes and passed one to Nob. ‘So, to us, my good Nob,’ he said, raising his glass.
‘To us,’ Nob said, raising his glass to chink with Hob’s. ‘I am supremely confident that the task ahead will prove to be one of simplicity and minimal effort.’
‘Quite,’ Hob agreed, drinking the rest of the champagne from his flute. ‘I foresee no problems whatsoever.’