Harry and Hilda live at number 42 Greenbank Road. Their home is a neat, modern 3 bedroom mid terrace house with a small patch of grass out the front and a well-tended garden out the back in which Harry has built them a beautiful summer house made of pallets and old doors. Harry and Hilda have lived at number 42 for 35 years and are well known amongst their neighbours, having two very good friends, the O’Neil’s at number 40 and the Sharwoods at number 68, the rougher part of the road.
I digress, this mystery happens just after dinner one balmy September afternoon.
Hilda walks into the bedroom.
‘Darn it’ shrieks Hilda, ‘What the hell have I come in here for’ she looked down at her left hand, ‘and what the blinking heck am I doing with this here desert spoon in my hand’. {The reader must remember that Hilda and Harry talk with a broad Lancashire accent, but for ease of reading and understanding the couple I have added all the aitches and gees} Mystified, Hilda tries to remember the reason she came into the bedroom with a desert spoon in her left hand. Nope she just could not remember, her mind was a total blank.’ Better retrace my steps’ thought Hilda out loud. ‘I’ll start in the kitchen where I keep the cutlery’.
Hilda trudged downstairs, she was at the age where vocal assistance is required for any knee related activity, so she ‘umphed’ down the stairs and entered the kitchen. She opened the cutlery drawer and removed a desert spoon, placed said spoon in her left hand and went back up the stairs, ‘umph, umph, umph’. She opened the second door on her right, stepped into the bedroom and ..Tada.. nothing not a single squeak of a memory about coming into the bedroom and why she had a spoon, make that 2 spoons now, in her left hand. ‘darn and blast it’ said Hilda {quite profound for the none cursing Hilda} She heard her husband calling from downstairs, ‘what you doing up there Illy’, his pet name for his beloved wife, ‘I’m still waiting down here’.
Hilda responded irritatingly to her husband, now so vexed she just had to swear, ‘I don’t bloody well know, I walked into the bedroom with a desert spoon in my left hand and I cannot for the life of me remember why’.
‘Easy on lass, don’t shout at me, twernt {Lancashire for it was not} my fault. Let’s solve this mystery together’. Harry loved puzzles of all kinds often spending hours completing the Guardian Crossword, the quick one of course, he found the cryptic ones were his kryptonite so to speak. Harry climbed the stair, with his own vocal assistance, ‘grunt grunt grunt’. ‘ let’s retrace your steps and see if that sparks your memory.’
‘I’ve already done that Harry, absolute bloody nothing. And now I am holding two desert spoons.’
‘Ok then, let’s do a re-enactment, like the police do on them crime shows. ‘
‘Ok’ replied a very reluctant and still angry Hilda.
‘Let us return to the summerhouse’ said Harry. ‘Why’ asked Hilda quizzically’,
‘Because’, Harry left a little dramatic pause here and pointed his finger towards the desert spoons in his wife’s left hand. ’That me love, is where it all began’.
The couple returned down stairs, ‘ump umph umph’, ‘grunt grunt grunt’, and went out the back door into the garden and across to the summer house.
‘Right’ said Harry in a firm and confident voice. ‘we were having our dinner in the summerhouse’
‘Ooooh’ interjected Hilda sarcastically.
Harry ignored Hilda and carried on.’ Yes, we had finished our dinner and you said you’d made some Mousse with the blackberries you picked earlier with the grandkids, and you went to fetch them’.
‘Did I’ murmured a confused Hilda, not even remembering this.
‘Yes ‘ Harry continued confidently ’ you picked up the tray, so go on pick up the tray’.
‘But the tray is not here’, groaned Hilda.
‘ I know Illy, we are staging a re-enactment, So we are just pretending, hence you pick up the imaginary tray just like you did before.’
‘OK’ replied Hilda, and, reluctantly playing along with her beloved husband, picked up the tray that was not there.
‘Not like that Illy’ demanded Harry,’ You picked it up by both handles, give it here I’ll show you.’
Hilda passed Harry the pretend tray and Harry took it.
‘You held it like this’ demonstrated Harry.’ You held it with both hand clasped around the handles’. Harry clasped his hands about 18 inches apart, and held the make believe tray about 2 inches from his body. Harry then motioned for Hilda to take the tray from him. Hilda took this now important invisible prop and held it tightly in her hands about 18 inches apart, just as Harry had, this was difficult as she was still carrying 2 desert spoons in her left hand, anyway she held this fictional tray as instructed.
‘Now carry it into the kitchen.’ Hilda obeyed her husband. She could see he was enjoying himself immensely and who was she to walk all over his detective like dreams.
The couple walked across the garden, Hilda holding the fictional tray firmly in two hands, followed by her husband making sure Hilda maintained the pretence.
The re-enactment continued in the kitchen.
‘Right, where on earth is the tray, I must have put it down somewhere’, Hilda turned full circle in her small kitchen, still holding her imaginary tray, but not seeing the actual tray in the kitchen.
Harry opened the fridge door, just in case Hilda in a tizzy put the tray in here, {she’s like that} but no, no tray in the fridge, ‘are you sure you made mousse today?’
‘Why’ asked Hilda, trying to look past Harry into the fridge.
‘There is no puddingny things in the fridge’
‘What’, burst out Hilda,’ I know I made the Mousse, and popped the glasses on the top shelf’ She pushed around her husband’s body to see for herself that the pudding she had made earlier were not there.
‘Oh good grief’ moaned Hilda’
‘Ahah’ declared Harry, ‘the plot thickens. Let’s continue with the role play, and see if we can find the tray, and the puddings and discover why you went into the bedroom with a desert spoon in your left hand’. Harry was enjoying himself immensely; indeed he had not enjoyed himself so much since the case of the disappearing paint sprayer.
‘Right’ uttered Harry, ‘place the puddings on the tray’
‘But there are no puddings’ bemoaned Hilda. ‘There’s no tray, and no puddings and no sense to what is happening’.
‘Bear with me lass’ Harry used his ‘jollying along’ voice to ensure his wife’s co-operation, ‘ pick up the imaginary puddings from the fridge, and place them on the imaginary tray, this might jolt your memory.’
Hilda did as she was told and pretended to pick up the puddings from the fridge.
‘hang fire’ Harry stopped her mid action.’ What glasses did you use to make the puddings in’
Hilda hesitated trying hard to remember, ’the ones we got from your mother, with the etched glass rim and small stem. I always use them for cold puddings’.
‘OK then’ continued Harry,’ pick the imaginary glasses up between your fingers as if you’re picking up the real ones and place them on the fictitious tray. Then get 2 pretend desert spoons out of the real cutlery drawer and put them next to the glasses.’
Hilda did as her husband asked, being difficult as she still had the 2 desert spoons in her left hand. Once completed Hilda, with care, picked up the fictional tray and its illusory contents, turned toward her husband and remembered something.’ I remember asking myself at this point what the plural of mousse is, mousses, or mice or just Mousse. I knew you would want to know so I thought I would go and have a look at the dictionary upstairs, cos you keep it on the bedside drawers on your side of the bed’.
‘Well done that woman,’ declared a hearty Harry,’ let’s go upstairs and continue our re-enactment’
‘Must we’ muttered Hilda, getting a bit tired of going up and down the stairs. Harry ignored her and led the way to the bedroom. The ‘grunt grunt grunt’, and’ oomph oomph oomph’, noises accompanied their climb of the stairs.
They turned right into the bedroom, Hilda still carrying the notional tray and contents, they walked straight to Harrys side of the bed, and there, on the bedside table were the real puddings placed carefully on the tray’. Well that solves the problem of where the puddings are ‘ said Harry indicating the tray and its contents on the top of the drawers by his side of the bed.
‘Yes’ replied Hilda, still carrying the illusory tray and nodding along with her husband’s declaration. ‘but is does not tell us why I came into the bedroom with a desert spoon in my left hand. Hilda stared at the two desert spoon she still carried.
‘True’ pondered Harry ‘but where is the dictionary Illy? it’s not by the bed where I normally keep it’
‘It’s all coming back to me’ Hilda was now fully committed to the re-enactment as she felt her memory starting to return. ‘I remembered you were doing the Guardian crossword on the toilet this morning, and you took the dictionary in there with you. So I put the tray down and went to inspect the bathroom’. Hilda put down her imaginary tray,’ But I cannot remember if I had the desert spoon in my left hand then, or not’.
‘To the bathroom then’. Oh Harry was really getting into the swing of this re-enactment malarkey now.
The couple entered the bathroom, right next door to their bedroom and there on the side of the loo was the dictionary. ‘I remembered I needed a wee, so I popped it there and went to the loo’. I could do with a wee now.
‘Well go on then, it is part of the re-enactment’.
‘Not with you in the room,’ squealed Hilda,’ shoo, go on, get out let me ablute in peace, come back when I have flushed.’
Harry obediently left the bathroom and shut the door behind him, patiently waiting and politely not listening to the sound of tinkling water, ‘By god that woman has a bladder the size of a football’, he pondered. Eventually he heard the flushing of the toilet and re-entered the bathroom and waited whilst Hilda washed her hands. ‘Ok Illy, you went to the loo, washed your hands and then what’.
‘I don’t know, all is a blank from here, I obviously left the dictionary in here, but after washing my hands, at least I hope I washed my hands, my mind is a total blank’.
Harry could see his wife was getting a little upset and thought he had better wind up this re-enactment quickly. ‘never mind’ he said pacifying Hilda, ‘ does it now matter why you went into the bedroom with a desert spoon in your left hand’ noting she had 2 desert spoons in her hand. ‘ Let’s go eat our pudding, and have a small sherry with them’.
Hilda agreed with Harry and Harry went to pick up the real tray, the couple returned downstairs, and with extra grunts and umphs, {there had been a lot of stair activity today} they went out to the garden and into the summer house. They finished their puddings and Harry declared them the best he had ever tasted, probably because they were hand-picked by his darling wife.
Well reader, if you are still with Harry and Hilda in this adventure we will never know why Hilda entered the bedroom with a desert spoon in her left hand, but we do now know the plural for mousse.