Various ramblings by the small hobbit

Miss Marple wandered round her garden, secateurs in hand.  It had been another very hot day, too hot to go out in the afternoon, but the evening, although still warm enough for her to be without a cardigan, was very pleasant and she enjoyed the opportunity to wander around.  She tutted at the number of roses that had shed their petals and briskly chopped the heads off; the heat was affecting them too.  And by removing those blooms which were over, there was space for new flowers to blossom, which was true in life and not just in the garden.

Miss Marple walked back to her cottage in a thoughtful mood.  It seemed a shame to spoil such a beautiful evening, which was still so warm she scarcely needed the cardigan she had draped over her shoulders.  Would it have been easier if it had been cold and wet?  Probably not.  Reluctantly she entered her home and took up the telephone receiver, to inform Inspector Slack that Alice Weatherall was wearing one of the rings stolen from Hambury House.  The poor girl wasn’t to know her fiancé had chosen the engagement ring as part of his spoils from the robbery.

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It had been a hot day and Miss Marple had waited until the evening had cooled before taking a stroll around her garden.  A rustling in the bushes had her scurrying back for her torch; she doubted it was anything sinister, but it was as well to be sure.  Clutching her torch in one hand she returned and listened carefully.  There was more rustling, but a little further along the garden.  Cautiously she shone her torch along the bushes and smiled as she spotted an adult hedgehog, followed by three small babies.  Here were intruders she was happy to encourage.

The werewolf sat quietly and watched as the various party guests mingled.  He looked longingly at the buffet table on the far side of the room, but knew he had to stay where he was.

Suddenly an altercation arose and, at the same time across the room someone collapsed, bleeding profusely.  Quickly, the werewolf made for the open doors leading into the garden and collided with a small man, knocking him over, causing him to drop a knife.  The werewolf stood guard, waiting for help, and in the meantime, relieving the man of the sausage roll from his other hand.

Pamela sat in the lounge in Adam and Lucas’ house and looked across at them.  “I imagine you are thinking what my other friends are thinking, ‘is she making the right decision?’  Well, let me assure you, I am.”

Lucas smiled at her.  “I, for one, have no doubts about it.  I know from my own experience how difficult it can be to make the jump into something new and how tempting it is at times to retreat back into yourself, but,” he reached over and took Adam’s hand, “the benefits outweigh the doubts.”

“And I second that,” Adam agreed.

“I think we’ve got him.”  Lucas was watching a live feed of a suspected mole.  “He’s going to find it hard to explain why he was meeting the Russian diplomat in quite such a covert manner.”

Lucas watched as the two departed and a couple of women who were walking past stopped while one checked her phone.  The other reached into a litter bin and retrieved a small item.

“Ros has the recorder.”

“I’ve just heard from Harry,” Malcolm said.  “He’s going to meet our mole, while Adam will discretely suggest the diplomat leaves the country sooner rather than later.”