An English Vacation

The boys take a vacation in England where all is not as it seems.

“I am not surprised that you are still sneezing. More rain, babe.” Starsky said peering out. He watched as the rain trickled down the window. “We have much more of this and there’ll be a lake outside.”

Hutch rolled over on to his side. “You remember what the forecast was for today?”

Starsky shrugged, “Same as every other day since we arrived in Britain, rain.”

Hutch smiled. “Hey you want me to apologise again for bringing us here? I already said I was sorry a hundred times.”

“No, I just want you to have a good vacation. You need this as much as I do. You wanted to do the historic sights of olde England.” Starsky wiped the windowpane with the back of his sleeve so he could see out. “And who knows, it might improve later.” He peered up at the grey, overcast sky. “Although, I doubt it.”

The aroma of cooking breakfast brought Starsky out of his temporary gloomy outlook on the day.

“Smell that?” he said, turning away from the window.

“English breakfast,” Hutch said. “According to my guidebook’s handy reference section this comprises bacon, sausages, fried egg, tomatoes, fried bread and mushrooms although there are also regional variations. If we were staying further north we’d be having black pudding. I just bet with your lead lined stomach, that sounds really appealing.”

Starsky stood pondering the matter for a moment and then broke in to a broad grin. “What time do they start serving?”

“About an hour ago,” Hutch said, glancing at the bedside clock.

“Well, then you great lug, shift your butt. I don’t want to miss this gastronomic extravaganza.”

“Starsk, they serve till 9.30. Its only 8.00 now.”

Starsky, however, was not convinced. “You want to take a shower first?” He wandered over to the small ensuite bathroom and peered in. “Looks pretty small, not sure we could really share.”

He didn’t hear his partner who had slipped unnoticed out of bed, creeping up behind him. Before Starsky had a chance to move, Hutch had slid his arms round his waist and hugged him hard.

“I’m prepared to give it a try if you are,” Hutch whispered half in to Starsky’s ear and half into a great mass of black curly hair.

~*~

“Morning Mr Hutchinson, Mr Starsky. I trust you both slept well?” The little old grey haired lady smiled warmly. Hutch recognised her immediately as the guesthouse’s proprietor who had met them the night before on their arrival.

“Very well,” Hutch replied returning the smile.

“I thought we’d put the two of you over by the window.” She gestured in the direction of the table laid for two. “On a good day there is a lovely view of the garden.” She waited for the two partners to sit down following at a discreet distance. “Now then, tea or coffee?”

“Coffee please, for both of us,” Hutch replied.

“Oh, silly me. I should have thought of that, you both being Americans an’ all”. She wiped away a stray lock of grey hair with the back of her hand. “And then, you’ll be having the full English breakfast or would you prefer kippers?”

Before Starsky had a chance to enquire exactly what kippers were, Hutch intervened. “English breakfast would be perfect.”

“Sets you up for the day does a good breakfast. Can’t stand these people who insist on half a grapefruit and a glass of orange juice or bury themselves in those vitamin supplements. I’m eighty and I won’t be changing the habits of a lifetime no matter what they tell you on that TV.”

Starsky watched the petit, elderly lady disappear back in the direction with a wry smile on his face. He had a feeling he was going to like Mrs Jones. Hutch refused to make eye contact with his partner knowing exactly what would happen if he did. Instead he idly glanced round the room, admiring the china ornaments on display.

“So what is there to see around here?” Starsky said finally, breaking the silence. “You read the guidebook cover to cover last night.”

“If it stops raining long enough, there are some wonderful walks with ‘spectacular views’ apparently. I guess that is out for today though. Likewise the preserved steam railway, the ruined abbey, the three or four castles.” Hutch pulled the rather bent guide out of his back pocket and leafed through a few pages. “How about a stately home?” He turned the book round so Starsky could see it. “The house is open and at least we would be in the dry.”

Starsky glanced at the impressive façade that was pictured on the page in front of him. “How about we think about it after breakfast.” He said, sounding less than impressed. The approaching footsteps that he had heard were Mrs Jones laden with a large tray. Hutch went to stand up to give her a hand.

“Oh no, no, my love. You stay where you are. I’m fine. I’ve been carrying this tray since before you were born.” She set it down on the table. Starsky stared at the two plates heaving with food. She picked up each one in turn and placed the plates on the floral tablemats. “Now will you be wanting any sauce, tomato, brown?” Neither man spoke still lost for words at the mountain of food in front of them. “And how about toast afterwards, white or brown?”

Hutch finally looked up. “I really don’t think either of us will be eating anything for the rest of the day after this.”

“So I’ll leave you in peace then. You just call though if you need anything. I’m only in the kitchen.” Wiping her hands on the front of her apron, she turned and walked back the way she had come.

Three more couples came in shortly afterwards and were duly seated. Each one in turn seemed staggered at the size of the repast put down in front of them. Hushed conversations took place, newspapers rustled and Starsky ate savouring the free-range eggs and the farm down the roads best pork and leek sausages. Hutch admitted defeat after the third rasher of bacon, having already consumed virtually everything else. He watched with amusement, as his partner appeared to savour every mouthful. Finally, Starsky put his knife and fork down neatly in the centre of the plate and leant back in his chair.

“You were right, I doubt we’ll be eating anything again before this evening.”

Hutch smiled. “If they had such things here as burrito takeaways, I just bet you’d change your mind.”

Mrs Jones seemed to appear out of thin air. She smiled warmly at Starsky and squeezed his shoulder. “Now that is what I really like to see, a clean plate. Mr Jones was just like you, never ever left as much as a mushroom on his plate. You enjoyed it then?”

Starsky grinned. “Mrs Jones, your breakfast was beyond description. Its just a shame that my partner doesn’t have my eating stamina.”

Hutch tried to figure out why he was suddenly overcome with a distinct feeling of guilt.

“Never mind, dear.” Mrs Jones turned her attention to Hutch. “There’s always tomorrow. Perhaps you’ll have more of an appetite then.” She picked up the plates. “The sun’s coming out. Looks like you might get a nice day after all. Have you decided where you are going yet?”

Hutch shook his head. “Not really. What would you recommend?”

“Mr Jones and I always liked to get out for a long walk. The coastal footpath gives you some good views of the sea and the marshes. If you want somewhere a little more historic you could try the church at Burnham Norton, that’s close by. Lord Admiral Nelson was born in the village. Plenty of lovely pubs for lunch there too.”

Hutch felt his stomach lurch at the prospect of more food.

“The seafood is very good, crab, lobster, mussels too,” Mrs Jones continued. “Of course you could always drive in to the city. It’s too busy for me these days but there is the Castle, lots of museums and shops. Anyway I’ll leave you to think about what you want to do. You need any help though, as I said, you ask me.”

Starsky gently pushed the chair backwards and stood up. Hutch followed his lead and the two partners wished their fellow guests a good morning and went outside.

The rain had indeed stopped. The sun was pushing through the low cloud and beginning to dry out the sodden grass on the front lawn. Both men stood listening to the sound of the gulls wheeling overhead, which squawked from time to time.

“Oh Mr Starsky.” Mrs Jones shrill voice came from the front porch. “One thing you might enjoy now the weather has improved. There is a boat trip out to Blakeney Point to see the seals. There is a very large colony out there, one of the biggest in the country. I have heard it’s a lovely trip on a good day.”

Starsky nodded. “We just might do that, thanks for the tip.”

She smiled warmly at him and then turned and went back indoors.

“She really likes you Starsk, I think you’ll be getting extra portions tomorrow morning,” Hutch said cocking his head on one side and smiling broadly. “So seals, old churches or just a stroll along the coast path then?”

“I think the coast path would be good as long as you feel up to it. You still got that cold though.”

Hutch sniffed. “The sea air should cure that. I’m going to get a jacket though. You want yours?”

Starsky shook his head. “No I’m fine. I’ll wait for you down here.”

~*~

By the time Hutch returned to the garden, the sun was fully out. Starsky was sitting on the flint garden wall.

“Mrs Jones says dinner is at eight and not to be late. She has something special in mind for you.” Hutch rested a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “It involves a local delicacy called samphire which evidently grows out on the marsh.”

Starsky frowned. “On the marsh?”

“So she says and it’s green.” Hutch strode off down the garden path listening intently to see if he could hear Starsky’s footsteps behind him.

~*~

Fortunately the weather stayed fine for the rest of the morning. By lunchtime both men had worked up a reasonable appetite. Starsky’s pace had become slower and slower and Hutch could tell that his enthusiasm for sea air was wearing a little thin. By the time they found a small pub both were ready for a comfortable fireside seat and some lunch.

“The Two Lifeboats” had history probably a smugglers inn many, many years ago. Old lamps still hung from the beams and the floor was still the old original tiles. Starsky found a large armchair near the open fire and slumped into it. Hutch found his way in the half-light of the old building to the bar.

“Afternoon sir, what would you like?” The man behind the bar stared long and hard at Hutch.

“Two beers.”

“Any particular type Sir?” He gestured at the beer taps lined up along the bar.

“Whatever you suggest would be fine,” Hutch said realising he was well out of his depth.

“Well, try the Wherry then. Good local beer brewed down in Southwold, Suffolk. Very popular.”

Starsky watched his partner from a distance, glad that he had left the ordering to Hutch. The logs on the fire shifted slightly as they burnt and a spark jumped out on to the mat in front of the fireplace. A large black dog that had been watching Starsky from the other side of the room wandered over and sat down beside him resting his head on his jean clad knee.

“If he’s any trouble just push him away.” The barman’s voice suddenly echoed across the room. “People find him rather intimidating. He’s such a big dog. The wife’s you see. I’d have had something smaller, a Poodle but no, she wanted a Great Dane. She had a Bulldog before that but the thing put people off their meals, always drooling.”

Starsky gently stroked the dog’s enormous head. “What’s he called?”

“Sultan. No idea why. Anyway as I said, he’s any trouble, just push him away.”

Hutch returned and put the two pints of beer down on the table. “There’s a board up above the bar with today’s specials on it. I ordered us a couple of crab sandwiches. That OK with you? Not a burrito in sight, not even pizza.”

Starsky raised an eyebrow. “I am not a total heathen you know. Crab is fine.” The dog licked its lips and stared long and hard at Starsky.

“You really have a way with the locals, Starsk. First Mrs Jones and now the dog. You sure your ancestors weren’t from around here. Not a few drops of British blood in there somewhere?”

Starsky smiled but said nothing, intent on paying the Great Dane as much attention as it seemed to require.

By the time they had eaten the crab sandwiches the light outside was beginning to fade. Both men were loath to leave the warmth and comfort of the bar. Gas lamps had been lit around the room. The lack of electricity seemed to enhance the atmosphere of the old building.

“We’d better start back. According to my guidebook, sea mists can be a problem this time of year and I don’t want you getting lost out on the marsh,” Hutch said stretching.

Starsky slowly got to his feet moving the dog’s head that had stayed resolutely attached to his knee the whole time he had been sitting beside the fire. “You mind if we come back here tomorrow, babe?” Starsky said in a tone low enough that only he and Hutch would have heard the term of endearment.

Hutch shrugged. “No there is something about this place, time seems to stand still. I can’t imagine he does a lot of custom this time of year though we were the only people in here.”

Starsky smiled. “All the better then just me and thee, a dog and the proprietor. Oh and ‘the wife.'” He added mimicking the accent of the barman.

Hutch slid back in to his jacket that he had left hanging over the back of the armchair.

“Thank you.” Starsky called out as they headed for the door. The bar, however, was empty.

Back in the cold autumn air, both men started walking briskly back the way they had come. The fog was already beginning to form and Hutch was extremely glad when they finally got back on what they had been told was the main coast road. A couple of cars passed them by but other than that they were on their own.

“You keep walking at that speed and burning up the calories and you’ll be able to eat Mrs Jones meal without too many problems,” Starsky grumbled, trying desperately to match Hutch’s long stride.

Another car passed and then came to a halt a short distance in front of them. A figure in a long dark coat beckoned to them through the fog.

“Mr Starsky? Mr Hutchinson?”

The voice was distinctive. It was Mrs Jones.

“I was just on my way back from town. Ruddy old sea mist is coming down fast this afternoon. I was wondering if you would like a lift back to the house?”

“We’d be most grateful,” Hutch said silently thanking whoever or whatever was responsible for making Mrs Jones shopping trip necessary.

“Hop in the back then. You must be frozen. That’s the trouble with this time of year. Its so easy to get lost out there too unless you really know the marshes well.” She waited for both men to get comfortable in the back and then climbed back in the car herself. “So tell me what have you been doing with yourselves today then?”

“Walking,” Starsky said rubbing his hands together having suddenly realised just how cold the sea fog had made him.

Hutch smiled. “We just walked along the coastal path. I guess maybe time got away from us. I hadn’t realised it had got so late. I think we spent rather too long at the pub over a beer and a sandwich. The Two Lifeboats should be in all the guidebooks. That place must be a gold mine with all the tourists visiting in the summer.”

The car screeched to an immediate stop. Both Starsky and Hutch had to quickly brace themselves by putting a hand on the car seats in front. No one moved, no one spoke. Time stood still.

Finally, Mrs Jones turned slowly to face the two men in the back. Her face was deathly white. She seemed to have aged a hundred years at least. She said nothing for several seconds just stared. Then in a feeble, weak voice she said, “The ….Two Lifeboats?”

“Yeah, it’s where we had lunch.” Hutch said trying to get some semblance of normality back.

“But the Two Lifeboats burned down more than thirty years ago,” Mrs Jones said. “A plane coming back from a bombing raid over Germany …” She swallowed and then forced herself to carry on. “Well it was short of fuel …it got lost in the sea mist and had to make a couple of extra circuits to find the airfield. They were so close …” Her voice trailed away and she turned to face the front of the car again. “So close.”

~*~

After much consideration, both the detectives decided to leave for London the following morning. Mrs Jones was sorry to see them go. Since the incident the previous day she had seemed very quiet though, almost withdrawn. The taxi that came to pick them up arrived promptly at ten o’clock. She waved goodbye from the doorstep and went back inside.

“Norwich Station?” The taxi driver said. “You’ll be going down to London for some sightseeing then? You had an enjoyable stay here?”

Hutch glanced behind him almost wanting to check that the little white guesthouse was still where he had last seen it. It was but there was no sign of Mrs Jones.

“Very enjoyable. My partner could have eaten the proprietor out of house and home if we had stayed any longer.”

The taxi driver laughed out loud. “She’s a dear old soul. Made a good business out of that place too and it hasn’t been easy for her over the years either. What with losing her husband during the war. She built that business up all on her own. Used to run a pub out on the marshes with him, she did. She tell you about that?”

As no one spoke the taxi driver continued. “She was in the city the day the plane came down. British Spitfire on its way back to its base near Fakenham. No one in the place at all except her dog and her husband. Could have been so much worse when you think about it.”

Hutch glanced at his partner who in turn glanced back at him.

“How long till we get to the station?” Both men said in unison.