"Oh!" (Bring Out Your Dead series - Part 8)

Continued from Episode 7 'Better to travel hopefully...?'

The story so far (you can read from the start at 'Board Stiff!'):  Josiah and Archibald, our two Undertakers, are on a mission to Spain to collect the mortal remains of Sir Lewisham Carnock. Having arrived in Alicante, after a fraught coach trip, Amber, Lawrence, Josiah and Archibald have now gone their separate ways.  Detectives Stone and Wood, meanwhile, are about to start work after a relaxing day on the beach:

"You did see those two, didn't you?"  D.S. Stone gasped.

"What two?"  D.I. Wood asked, distractedly, fumbling to find the control for his window, so that he could release the pall of cigarette smoke that was obscuring his vision.

"Those two people from our 'plane.  You nearly wiped them out, just now!"

"Rubbish!”  D.I. Wood flicked the remains of his cigarette out of the window, “I'll bet they were wandering down the wrong side of the road.  You know what the Brits are like abroad."   He narrowly missed a passing taxi, as he skidded and swerved his way around the back streets of Alicante.

"Don't I just!"  D.S. Stone confirmed with feeling.

******

"She was a bit rude, wasn't she Mr. O.?"  Archibald panted, trying to keep up with the insistent pace of his employer, despite the handicap of being lumbered with pulling two overnight cases.

"Moderately outspoken, I think you might say, Archibald.”  Josiah nodded, “Regrettably, many of our fellow British citizens have a tendency to abandon their usual sensibilities once they set foot on foreign soil.”  Josiah marched on, determined to reach the rental car office as soon as possible, “Quite what engenders this abandonment of normal, civilised behaviour is a mystery to many.  At least we can take pride in our continued, dignified conduct, despite the many setbacks we have encountered on this journey.  Wouldn't you agree, Archibald?” He was unsurprised not to get an immediate response, but the complete cessation of the noise of the wheeled suitcases made him look around, “Archibald?"

It was apparent why Archibald Thurble was unable to respond.  A rose clamped between his teeth, he was attempting to mark time with his right foot, whilst clicking a castanet in his left hand, under the instruction of the flamenco dancer/street entertainer on the opposite side of the square.

******

Lawrence Hamble pounded down the side road, by the hotel, with a determined expression and his eyes fixed firmly to the pavement.  Behind him, the wheeled suitcases bounced and bumped like a pair of ill-trained puppies.  He was oblivious to his surroundings and, very nearly, to the car which could have converted him into the late Lawrence Hamble.  The torrent of complaint and invective that was the usual background to his thoughts was now very much to the fore, and taking no prisoners. 

Lawrence was not a happy man. 

However, his onward charge came to a sudden halt when he heard Amber, trailing somewhat behind him, say:

"Oh!"        

The last, and in fact only, time he had heard that particular word expressed, with much the same degree of surprise and pleasure, was on their honeymoon (on the Isle of Wight, naturally).  It was a sound he had filed under the heading of 'Fond Memories', without any real hope of ever hearing it again. 

He turned to see Amber standing stock still, her widening eyes transfixed on the horizon before her.  He followed her gaze and saw the sight that had evoked her cry of pleasure.  In the distance, the late afternoon sun was dappling the blue of the Mediterranean, twinkling off the crest of each wave, as little fishing boats jockeyed for position and the last swimmers of the day made their way, reluctantly, back to the vast expanse of golden beach.

Lawrence turned back to his wife and was greeted with the warmest smile he had ever seen.  ‘Perhaps’ he thought hopefully, ‘this holiday might turn out to be not too bad, after all?’.

******

"I quite liked that senior"

Archibald was attempting to talk to Josiah, despite his employer's evident focus on accurately completing the car hire documentation.  When no reply was forthcoming,

"I said, I quite liked…"

"So I understood, Archibald!”  Josiah snapped, “I was aware of your comment on the first occasion but, as you may have noticed, I am attempting to conclude this transaction so that we can continue with our mission, without further delay" Josiah sighed and returned to his forms, until his desire to educate his employee got the better of him.  "I think you will find, Archibald, that the word you should have employed on this occasion was that of 'Señor' not 'senior'.  Moreover, if, as I suspect, you are referring to your recent encounter with the street performer, you should employ the title 'Señora' or, possibly, 'Señorita;"

Josiah handed the completed paperwork, passport and driving licence, to the clerk and watched, miserably, as a large chunk was added to his credit card balance.  Archibald regarded him with a puzzled expression and a deepening frown.

"I'm not sure you're right there, Mr. O…" he began

"I assure you, Archibald" Josiah said, confidently, as they made their way from the dingy office to the car lot behind, "my knowledge of the language may, I grant you, be more academic than conversational, but on this point, I am assured.  The term you required was either 'Señora' or 'Señorita.  I am, however, aware that in these enlightened days of female emancipation, the adoption of an honorific to denote marital status is falling out of favour, Ms. Knight being a case in point, so 'Señora' is, perhaps, the safest option."

"Like I say, I don't think so Mr. O." Archibald continued doggedly, "That flamingo dancer, his name was Bert Higgs.  He's a busker from Huddersfield.  Oh!"

Archibald's exclamation was as a result of catching sight of their vehicle, and the tone in no way resembled the spontaneous outburst of pleasure that Amber Hamble had so recently used to such good effect.  Quite the reverse.

"It's a sort of Transit then?"  Archibald said, eventually.

"Regrettably, Archibald, I was unable to secure the use of a suitable hearse at such short notice" Josiah admitted.

"It's bright yellow" Archibald stated, accurately.

"Mmmm" Josiah reluctantly agreed, gloomily.

"With flowers all over it?"

"Beggars cannot be choosers, Archibald."  Josiah stated, firmly, as they climbed into the cab. "We were fortunate indeed to obtain anything at all, as the Car Hire Representative made abundantly clear to me.  I'm sure that the late Sir Lewisham Carnock will be mercifully unaware of these, somewhat inappropriate, transport arrangements, and we can divest ourselves of this hideous contraption as soon as we reach the airport"

"It's just like the Mystery Machine." Archibald said, happily, bouncing in his seat with excitement as they pulled out of the car lot, “I feel like Scooby-Doo!”

"Ah, there you have the advantage of me, Archibald" Josiah remarked as he negotiated the traffic, "I regret that I have never, to the best of my knowledge and belief, partaken of ‘scooby-doo’, whatever that may be?'"

****

After a journey which D.S. Stone had only survived by keeping his eyes closed and praying quite a bit, D.I. Wood finally screeched to a halt, outside the local Police Station.

"Right Sunny Jim, you turn the car around and wait for me here.  I'll nip inside, do the business with the local plod and I'll be out with his nibs in a jiffy" D.I. Wood sprang out of the car and marched confidently toward the entrance.  D.S. Stone walked around to the driver's door, and looked up and down the street, dubiously.

"You know," he shouted after the retreating figure of his superior, "I don't think we're supposed to park here"

"Don't be so wet!" D.I. Wood shouted over his shoulder, "just turn it round, put the hazard lights on, and wait in the car.  I won't be a minute"

D.S. Stone adjusted the seat and mirrors, checked the controls carefully, and only then set off, hesitantly, to make his manoeuvre.

Now read on in Part 9