Tea with Mrs Leadbeater

by Nicola
(South Australia)

Tracey felt like Old Mother Hubbard. It had been ages since she'd had a visitor.

Her little house had always been at the end of the street, but now with the new development it was in the middle. No-one had bothered to visit since Stan passed away, and they'd never had children. Tracey had got quite used to living alone.

But now the new next door neighbours had popped in to introduce themselves. Tracey felt like she ought to invite them in for a cup of tea. They seemed like quite a nice young couple. It would be lovely to have company.

She put the kettle on the hob and dusted off the old brown teapot. But where had she put the cosy? Tracey looked through her pantry; a ball of string, some cello tape, a pair of scissors, a set of chopsticks Mavis and Bertie had brought back from overseas, not that she'd ever used them of course. Tracey didn't know how to cook foreign food; a coil of rope, a tub of Borax. Ah there it was, right at the back behind the Stop Rot. Tracey smiled.

What she really wanted was a nice cake to offer. Maybe a sandwich or two, but all she had was half a packet of Rich Tea biscuits. She quite liked them herself; Tracey liked everything plain.

Soon cups and saucers of her best bone china, the plate of biscuits and the teapot, sugar bowls and milk jug were nicely arranged on a tray. Tracey was shaking so much, she could barely carry it.

Tracey put the tray down on the coffee table and poured the couple tea.

"Aren't you going to have any Mrs Leadbeater?" asked the young girl.

"Oh no dear, I have to watch my caffeine intake you know. Old age."

"You keep a very nice house, I must say." Offered the gentleman, "Might I ask what those intriguing implements are in your cabinet?"

"Those are the tools of my old trade. I used to be a taxidermist."

"Really? What a fascinating job. But I don't see any specimens." He continued.

"Oh I don't keep them in the lounge room dear. Not everyone is appreciative. I have a little museum in my shed. How do you like your tea?"

The young woman answered, "Well it is nice. It has a rather unusual flavour. I can't quite seem to place it … "

"It was Stan's favourite. He brought it back from overseas. It is rather special isn't it?"

The couple agreed, and Tracey topped up their cups as they whiled away the hour chatting about their plans and ideas for their new home. Once the pot was empty they rose to bid their farewells, promising to invite her over for tea one day soon.

"I would like that very much dear. Would you like a quick peek at my museum before you go? It's been such a long time since I showed anyone." They nodded politely and followed her through the kitchen to the back yard. Tracey opened the shed door with a flourish and flicked on the light switch.

"Oh my! You have a little lounge room in here. Oh! Sorry sir, we didn't mean to interrupt." The young girl said with surprise.

Tracey chuckled, "Don't mind Stan dear. He can't hear you. He's quite my best work."

"You mean …But he's so lifelike."

"Yes, he always liked to sit in that chair and read. It comforts me to see him that way still. Come through. I'll show you my others." The couple followed Tracey through a curtain into the main area of the shed. "That man over there sleeping. He was homeless. I gave him shelter one night in a storm. He looks quite cosy and peaceful don't you think?" Tracey ignored the looks of shock on her guests' faces and rattled on. "That's the old milkman. He came here for a visit on his way home from work one day. I particularly like the way I've captured his happy smile. Getting him to hold the milk bottles was difficult though."

"Oh …" interrupted the woman, "I .. I feel a little faint."

"Don't worry dear. Take a seat over here." She guided the woman to a seat beneath a hoist. "How are you feeling?" she looked at the man. "You're looking a little pale yourself."

"I … I think I need to … my legs are a little wobbly."

"The shock sometimes makes people feel that way. I'm told my little hobby can be a little disconcerting. Don't worry. You'll be fine in just a moment. The wobbliness will go away."

"Oh thank you very much. Most understanding. It must be the shock." Spoke the woman as she flopped onto the couch. Her husband sat beside her.

"Mrs Leadbeater," the gentleman spoke, "may I ask how your um … exhibits er .. died?"

"Drinking too much tea dear."