Kat Writes ✍️

by Kat

“Remember we are shut all day tomorrow, folks. The third of June is our honorary bank holiday around here” Harvey had chirped over the grumbling choir of Sunday regulars huddled at the bar. Last orders had been called. The pumps were polished, the fridges were restocked and most of the crowd had been served with a smile. Harvey had quickly become adept at pretending it was business as usual, even if there was a body in the cellar.

Our story begins a week earlier.

In preparation for the pub’s annual closure, he had dutifully laminated the reminder sign and placed it lovingly amongst the photocopied documents on the village notice display board. He had been careful not to interfere with any other important notices like the charity bake sale or the upcoming cricket tournament. The page had found its resting place over Father Terrence’s missing spectacles poster as they were more than likely to be on his head, as usual. Once satisfied that the frame was clasped shut, he brushed the hood of his raincoat further forward and encouraged his sodden terrier towards the village pub. Once their six feet were wiped and his dripping mac shaken off, he called to the back of the room:

“I’ve done it Sue”.

Sue didn’t respond as promptly as expected as her mouth was otherwise engaged with a packet of cheese and onion Walkers. The dog ran past her ankles and swirled into the familiar tartan fleece on his bed.

“Did you remind Mags?” She called from behind her magazine

“Yes, I bumped into her at the market – she’s full of a cold so she was taking herself home anyway” he replied, smoothing his combover in the reflection of the window and returning his hands to the warmth of his pockets. Mags was their long-serving cleaner who had seemingly come as a permanent fixture with the deeds of the pub. She turned 86 in January but had looked the exactly the same since the pair of them were children. Nowadays, Mags was considered more of a family member than an employee, of course.

“Is Betty here yet?” he continued, rearranging the chairs.

“What do you think?” she replied sarcastically, flicking the page over and commencing a hearty chomp of her Crunchie bar. Harvey rolled his eyes and tutted knowingly. His other sister was as unreliable as the weather – always had been, always would be. They had planned to review the cellar stock tonight, as well as polishing the brass (if the slow custom of a Monday night permitted). An extra pair of hands would have more than welcome, even if they were Betty’s.

“I let Mum know not to expect us as well” Sue remarked, squinting to make sense of the calories on the back of the chocolate wrapper. Harvey tended to the bald spot at the rear of his cranium.

“Why bother? She wouldn’t notice anyway”

The air felt denser somehow.

Sue resisted confrontation, instead changing the subject to something less emotionally charged.

“Did you notice that the new pint glasses have arrived? They’re in the other room”

“Well, what are they doing in there? They’re no good to us on the pool table” He huffed, rushing to their aid.

Sue rolled her eyes and re-focused on the airbrushed celebrity photoshoot.

Harvey had just swung the door slightly when he gasped.

“Mags? What are you doing in here? Are you bleeding?”

Mags hobbled backwards awkwardly, further exposing the crimson stains on her jumper.

“I’m not bleeding, no”, she grinned menacingly and glanced down by the pool table.

Harvey leaned over the table and winced.

It was Father Terrence. His throat was slit and blood had pooled onto the rug. He was evidently deceased with his eyes bulging, glassy and fixated in horror.

“What have you done, Mags?” He cried bringing his hands to his temples in disbelief.

Mags was seemingly unmoved.

“You’re going to help me with this, Harvey. You owe me, after all”

To be continued…