There was no post today. OH remarked upon it as we left the house for our morning dog walk.
‘There’s no post today,’ he said.
I thought about it and decided he was jumping to conclusions.
‘There might be,’ I said. ‘Perhaps Milly* hasn’t come yet.’
And off we set. We walked into the village and around the church green, up to the chemist’s shop to drop off a prescription request, and back home.
When we were a few hundred yards from home, and there was still no sign of the lovely Milly, OH turned to me.
‘Perhaps something’s happened to her!’ he said.
Me: ‘Milly?’
OH: ‘Yes! I haven’t seen her this morning at all!’
Me: ‘Well, look on the bright side. She might have brought our post by now. She might be there even now, pushing all kinds of stuff through our letterbox’.
OH (In tones of gloom): ‘Stuff we don’t want’.
Me: ‘It might be! There might be a letter – from, um – from your brother, C!’
OH turned and gave me a Look. The fact is that his brother C communicates with the rest of his family once every decade, if we’re lucky. He married S, emigrated to Canada long before we were married, had children, got divorced and became a bit of a hermit. He is now a school bus driver.
I said: ‘There might be! He might have written to you! Come to think of it, though, he might have dropped dead. How would we know? Who’d tell us?’
OH: ‘S would let P** know, and he’d probably tell us’.
Me: ‘But what if they both died? Maybe they took his school bus out for a joyride, came off the road and fell into a canyon. And were eaten by bears!’
There was a somewhat lengthy pause, while we both pictured this scenario.
Then I added: ‘Mind you, that’d probably make the news, don’t you think?’
OH:Â Yes, I do think. ‘Estranged husband and wife in bear death pact’ – I can see it now!
There followed manic laughter, startling a couple of nearby road workers, who turned and began cautiously walking away.
OH: ‘Of course, she might have been kidnapped’
Me: ‘Kidnapped?’
OH: ‘Yes, we have to admit the possibility.’
Me: ‘By aliens?’
OH: Well .. maybe just someone at home. Maybe she knocked on the door to deliver something, and they opened it and just dragged her inside.’
Me: ‘You do tell me she has a certain something …’
OH nodded: ‘An old-fashioned charm!’
So yes. I can see the headlines now: ‘Village Post Lady kidnapped by Obsessive Enid Blyton fan!
We are expecting to hear that the ransom demands have arrived at the Post Office any day.
* Our post lady, for whom OH has a bit of a thing. She reminds us both of someone from certain children’s stories of the fifties – all cheery and rosy-cheeked with rumpled blonde hair, pedalling like a dynamo all over the village with her post bag. Just like an Enid Blyton character, in fact.
** S is C’s ex-wife. They live just around the corner from each other and get along better than ever. P is one of their sons.
Names have been changed or disguised. I do love a bit of subterfuge!