The Mata Hari Institute of Culinary Excellence

[Pleater]

The minister took a phone call, and came into the North dining room looking serious. He had no hesitation in telling all those assembled of the content of that call, and that Hamish was being transported home from the USA in an airship - it surely could only be the Saltire.
'I hope that you don't mind, I suggested that he be brought here, to recuperate - I know you did such sterling work in the wars.'
'Will he be safe?' I enquired. 'Our security has been shaky recently.'
'Not at night.' said Mister McGreagor, wryly.
'Why wouldn't he be safe here?'
'He wasn't safe at home.' I pointed out.
'I'll have my man look at things - see how it can be improved.'
'Waterproof lookout posts will probably be his first thought.'
'Yes - it has been rather wild here recently.'
'A house in Storrington was hit by lightning,' said the Minster's wife, quite casually.
'That's where Hamish lives.' I gasped.
'Several places were hit, I believe - it was a bad storm.'
I rose from the table clumsily, and made a hurried exit. Could it be that leaving Ivana Rulital and her Globo-Fashion associates free to act had resulted in a revenge attack on the Kollection? Was there now a smouldering ruin where once had resided the Ace of kilt wearers and his many beautiful well chosen garments?

[Pleater]

I hurried to where Mister Brown was eavesdropping on the 'subjects' and asked if there had been any talk of attacking a house in Storrington. He shook his head.
'Just a coincidence, nothing more, the Kollection will be quite safe.'
'How do you know? I don't see a crystal ball around here.'
He went very still for a moment.
'I mean that there has been no talk of damaging it'
'But you said - Koh-llection - I said a house in Storrington - you said it will be safe. Are you going to pop into the future and inspect it?'
He opened his mouth, he closed it, took a deep breath and then paused, waiting to see what I would do or say next.
I just raised an eyebrow. All the time taken practicing that in front of a mirror paid off.
'You know?'
'I was suspicious right from the moment I saw you.'
It was not a lie.
'Then - I can do something to help.'
'What can you do?'
'It is to do with removing the pain you have - would you hold my hand?'
I hesitated only three seconds - though when I did hold out my hand he seized my wrist, always a difficult hold to break.
'Hold tight!' he said with a grin.
'I need more -'
The room dissolved, and I heard a motorcycle, I felt a motorcycle, I felt the movement - and yet I was still standing still. I heard Mister Brown.
'This is real, believe me. You must believe me, and do as I say - it is the village where you will have your accident, you are approaching it now - you see the High Street - do you?'
'Yes, I used to have flash backs.'
'This is a be back - is there a shop?'
'Yes, two shops and a post office.'
'Stop - you have to stop at the shops.'
'I can't. I didn't.'
'This time you will stop. Stop now!!'
The engine note dropped, I slowed and came to a halt in the parking bay in front of the shops. I turned off the ignition and eased my shoulders. As I did a car came around the corner on the wrong side, fishtailed along the road and lost traction in a screech of brakes. There was a howl of anguished metal and an impact.
Slowly the room returned. Mister Brown somehow brought me and a chair together.
'Good trick - eh?' he inquired.
'It missed me - I wasn't on the road.'
'Not any more.'
'But - ' I looked for the scars. There were none.
'It didn't happen. You still have to be here - but things have been different.'
I stood up, sat down and stood again. I swore, I wept, and I danced and laughed, I put my hands to my face, and felt something strange.
'What's that?'
'Third finger left hand - I'd say it was a wedding ring.'
'But - '
'It will take a minute, but you'll begin to fit in - '
Something pinged like a microwave oven.
'Real time elapsed - fifteen minutes.' said an electronic voice.
'Ah - it doesn't always mesh perfectly - but close enough.'
'Time travel?'
'More - reality adjustment, but time is involved.'
'And - that is so I keep your secret - you give me a better future in return for my silence.'
'Not just a better future - well, I suppose - counting from the time you didn't crash, yes.'
'Couldn't you just stop me realising?'
'Not and still be here. I had to be here - I can't tell you why. You had to be here - I had to hang on to you so your life, although different, would still be here and now.'
'And - everyone else?'
'They are just a little different, because you were, as of now, always different. '
'A lifetime of science fiction gives you a - ' I couldn't think of a word for it.
'We call it a prefact. Something which becomes a fact.'
'I think I need a drink.'
'Most people do. Alcohol is very useful at these times.'
'I was thinking of a cup of tea actually.'
'Jolly good - and you don't need to worry about the Kollection. It is and will be perfectly safe.'
I walked out into the corridor. The rain had passed and the sunlight streamed into the corridor through the tall windows and the deep mahogany colour of the woodwork was lifted by golden reflections off the varnished surface.
I seemed to float along without effort as I walked to the stable block, the familiar green door with the old black metal latch that snicked under my hand, the friendly kitchen with the stone flagged floor and the Aga in the fireplace, the cat lying feet up on the rag rug making a small greeting and waving a paw at me.

I made a cup of Lady Gray, and sat in my rocking chair. The cat lept into my lap and settled there, purring. I tapped my heels together, carefully so as not to disturb her.
'No place like home, eh Puzi?'
She gazed at me with that perfectly inscrutable feline face as though wondering why there should be any need to ask.

[Hamish]

Eeeeek! Just how close to life can this tale get? Two evenings ago, we endured one of the most noisy and persistent electrical storms here in Storrington that I have ever witnessed, anywhere. Yesterday, I learned that a house, not 200 yards from The Kilt Kollection, had been struck and damaged by lightening. Fortunately, my home suffered nothing more than a complete inability to access the Internet by any means yesterday morning, although my telephone and power was unaffected. An hour-long visit from the village computer whizz-kid, probable cost £35 - £40, put things right as far as I can tell.

Do you read palms, tealeaves and tarot cards, Pleater?

Take care,
Ham.

[Pleater]

Do you read palms, tealeaves and tarot cards, Pleater?

Take care,
Ham.

Alas - nothing supra-natural, just the news on TV. It really was just a coincidence that your kind consent to 'appear' arrived at my PC moments after I delivered a cup of tea to Himself in the front room, where Storrington was in the news.

My poor tale cobbles together various things in X marks - photos were posted of the over long denim kilt and Queen Victoria's Mr Brown in grey kilt suit with long hairy sporran, there are bits from the narration of Panache and davedove, the sudden outbreak of recipes on the forum, even the time travel bit is simply something trawled from the off topic section, and then hammered into place.
It is just like a beachhut constructed from whatever washed up on the shore. Fun to do though.

[Pleater]

The banqueting hall is decorated and the tables laid, the Royals have set up a mooring tower in the place they assure us is the best with regard for the wind - they spent a couple of days flying kites and making notes. There are wind socks on poles, and a radio link to the airport at Hurn and the Sea Harrier base.
There is a peculiar large wheeled thing which I am assured can carry a glass of water without spilling a drop, on the central platform.
The students have been instructed that they are to be in uniform, on the correct way to address the various visitors - even if they happen to be of a republican bent it is really not the thing to stick out your hand and say 'G'day, mate.'
Mister McGreagor has obtained access to a satelite with tracking radar and is watching the progress of the Saltire with interest - they have a following wind and are making record progress.
I have scoured the kitchens, classrooms and dormitories for anything in the least bit suspect, and lectured the gels most severely on what they are not to do. They giggle. I am sure they used to pay more attention, I cannot think what has got into them these days.
The technicians have prepared a banquet for two hundred, with a buffet for the outside staff and the Royals on separate sides of a large marquee set up between the long borders.

Matron has supervised the preparation of a suite of rooms suitable for our guest with views of the winter garden but at the quiet end of the House, just bathroom, kitchen, sitting room, study, dressing room and bedroom, nothing elaborate. The Minister has found a gentleman's gentleman and a young footman to assist in looking after Hamish, and two rather sinister looking men in black and a large 4 by 4 with smoked windows are standing by in order to ferry garments between here and Storrington. Their cred was slightly dented by my discovering them studying a thick volume of tartans when I took them some refreshments.

It is all so exciting!!

[Pleater]

We had just sighted the dirigible on the horison when I finished directing the many cars which had arrived to see the arrival. There were crowds of people all along the ridge and lining the road, and I had opened the field where we keep the sheep in the spring. One camper van left the line of vehicles and found its spot - it seemed to be maneuvering unnecessarily, and so I watched the two people who got out. They were dressed in rather ordinary clothing, they looked just like a well off but not at all trendy couple, but not quite right all the clothes were brand new. I moved rapidly toward the gate, and managed to hear a snatch of what the woman said. I had heard that voice, it was so familiar - Ivana Rulital, I passes them and the man spoke. That affected drawl could only be Evan Moore-Naste. I ran.

Beside the tent where cups of hot drink were being handed out to the crowds I saw Mister Brown. He was wearing a brown tweed kilt of a good heavy weight, with a solid dark brown jacket, and a very good Aran jersey with chunky hose, both a good match for the lighter colour of the tweed. On his head he had a tweed flat cap set horisontally with military precision, he carriage a binocular case of brown leather over one shoulder and the binoculars slung around his neck.

'They're here,' I said as I came to a halt beside him.
'They have have a rocket which they plan to fire at the Saltire.'
'They are just behind me.'
'The Saltire is not visible from here yet - there will be a clear shot once it is maneuvering to hook on.'
'The van is in the right position for that. They are coming.'
'Can you get a couple of cups of tea? They like tea - I have a couple of pills that will stop them - tranquilisers.' he added seeing my expression. 'You wouldn't have minded before.' he added, but I was already dodging through the people standing around drinking beside the tent.

I returned with a tray and two plastic cups, with packets of sugar and sweeteners. Mister Brown dropped the two tablets into the cups and stirred them, then grinned at me and I managed to neatly intercept the two of them. Moore-Naste swept past me, knocking the tray from my hands without even looking at me. Ivana Rulital simpered as she took his arm to help her up the slope.

Mister Brown was beside me in a second.
'Oh no - just look at my pinstripe.'
The tea had drenched the whole of the apron and splashed onto my pale gray fine knitted lace jersey, and was dripping onto the matching hose and slightly darker suede moccasins.
'They seem intent on getting a good view.' he said, ignoring my plight. 'Let's follow them.'
'If we let the crowd know they'll be torn to pieces.'
'That's my girl' he smiled, 'I thought that married life had made you soft.'
He took my arm and steered through the host of people making their way up the road to get to the best spot to see the dirigible's approach.
'Can you see them?'
'No, but they have to have gone this way.'
'Surely - they won't be able to get back to the van through all the people?'
'Maybe I got it wrong - if they have a remote control to activate a heat seeking rocket - perhaps even a camera to see when it comes into range. Maybe they want to get a really good view of it crashing.'
'Maybe they want to get into the House.'
'They would need to have an invitation.'
'I wouldn't put it past them to have obtained one.'
As we approached the gates Mister Brown drew out an invitation and we were waved through, there ahead of us were the two villains.

They made their way to the southern dining room where tea was being served in china cups with biscuits and cakes. A small queue had formed, which they joined with a show of impatience. Evan Moore-Naste drew a small dark device from his pocket, which might have been a mobile phone, opened it and looked at the screen, then flipped it shut.
'That's it - the remote control.' said Mister Brown.
'I'm going to get them some of a special cake.' I said quietly. 'I think that will stop them.'
'Hurry.' he said. 'If I try to get the remote they might activate it at once and then the rocket might go anywhere.
I ran to the sealed pantry, remembered the numbers for the locks, then made a tray, found an apron and headscarf, and carried the fruitcake I had made into the dining room. They were just being shown to a table, but Ivana objected, she wanted a table by the window. In the few minutes that gave us I added a pot of tea and cups to the tray and informed the waitresses that I wanted to serve the awkward couple myself.
Neither looked at me when I placed the teapot and cups on the table, nor when I cut the cake with hands that trembled so much I had to take five slices before I had two whole ones. I was holding my breath until I had covered the cake and moved away. Mister Brown was looking past me, and when I was half way across the room he slowly raised a thumb and smiled.
When I reached him he told me that they had both taken a bite of the cake.
'I'll send Ian to you with some of the security men. I must change and go out to greet the guests if you are sure that everything will be alright.'
'I'll keep watch here. What is the number of the van?'
I repeated the number and gave him the make and model.
'Any idea how long it takes to work?'
'The first effects are quite fast - look - he's taking off his jacket. He's looking very relaxed and he's smiling at her.'
'And she is smiling back. Though it could be that they think they have succeeded. Now they are eating more of the cake. Is it like being drunk?'
'I don't know. I have never been drunk.' I said, unable to counter the primness in my voice, but he just smiled.
'Of course, I should have known. I think it is all OK - send me the security men, please, if he does go for the remote I'll have to hit him with a chair if I don't have backup.'
I found Ian, he asked no questions, just rushed out, so I went home to change my clothes, again, and then joined the other directors and the VIPs on the front lawn.

It was a magnificent sight, the great airship approaching gradually losing height, and around it a little posse of Sea Harriers were dancing attendance, carefully matching speed and altitude. It took some time for the final approach, the Saltire seemed large, but that was still at a distance, it was actually enormous, and by the time the Sea Harrier escort suddenly shot vertically upward, circled and then headed back towards the coast I had seen Mister Brown reappear and this time he gave me a double thumbs up before going inside.

The noise of engines faded and the dirigible hung in the air, then there came a great musical cord, and The Entry of the Queen of Sheba was played to us from above.

[Pleater]

Gracefully the Saltire approached the mooring tower, the occupants of the gondola could be seen waving to the crowd, which was a sea of flags with the Stars and Stripes, the Saltire, the Cross of St George and Union flags, plus a few Welsh Draigs.

As the last few feet of separation were being inched away the Royals sprang into action to secure her and when that was done to then see the passengers safely onto terra firma. There were a few moments of confusion when four of the new arrivals wished to carry Hamish in the chair specially made for him, whilst the four Royals delegated to the task refused to relinquish it. Fortunately this confrontation was resolved by a rather querulous request to see passports before setting foot on English soil. In the subsequent rummaging for documents Hamish was smoothly transferred from the airship to the strange wheeled transport, which then conveyed him sedately towards the lawn. Once there he rose and greeted several dozen of those waiting to meet him, but Matron was watching with an eagle eye and soon intervened, the chair was brought and Hamish was whisked indoors to the apartment.

Mister McGreagor appeared and informed me that the security men had taken Ivana Rulital and Evan Moore-Naste to the Rotunda, where there is a secure cell, once used when the House was used as an assizes. He added that they had used a recording of themselves in order to fool those listening into thinking they were still at home. Then the Americans began to arrive, and found themselves amongst Dukes, Earls and a Prince or two being introduced to Dames, Highnesses, Countesses, Honorables and Duchesses. There arose a babble of conversation as the two sets intermingled and admired the airship in her new surroundings.

[Pleater]

I took stock of my altered state as soon as the shock wore off a little. To be suddenly married with children was rather weird, and yet - it was right - and somehow it always had been. It had not quite happened before but now it had flipped into always having happened.
We live in the old stable block, converted into housing and we are happy.

After a while I went back to find Mister Brown, who seemed to have been expecting me, and he talked - it seemed to be something of a relief for him - though not a lot of it was comprehensible. He did admit to having a lot of offspring, though not all the time and in the same places and their names were sometimes different.

'I suppose that once you start to mess around with time, causality and destiny and suchlike, you have to be glad if you end the day with your own **** on.'
'I seem to have managed that, as far as I can tell.'
'Then you are ahead of the game, so far.'
'I will have to leave soon - very soon.'
'Your work here is done?'
He gave me a spaniel look.
'I hope that Ian will one day join us, though just at the moment he seems to be too easily influenced, plus he's a total geek.'
'You underestimate the power of the recipes.'
'Perhaps. We will be monitoring Moore-Naste and Rulital, just so there are no surprises, and by Christmas at the latest all Globo-Fashion associates should have been picked up - I am sure that if we try hard enough they can be put where they can do no more manipulating.'

I returned to my duties, which I had been neglecting, though my schedule now seemed to finish promptly at four thirty each afternoon.