Hyacinth Bouquet had spent three weeks preparing for what she confidently described as “the most refined garden gathering this side of Buckingham Palace.” Richard privately called it “another expensive afternoon,” though only in the safety of his own thoughts. The lawn had been trimmed with military precision, every rose bush had been encouraged to bloom through constant conversation from Hyacinth, and the finest Royal Doulton china with the hand-painted periwinkles had been polished until it gleamed in the morning sun.
Richard carried yet another folding chair into the garden.
“Hyacinth,” he sighed, “how many people are actually coming?”
“Quality, Richard, not quantity. Distinguished company requires room to appreciate elegance.”
“So… six chairs for four guests?”
“One must never appear cramped.”
Elizabeth nervously appeared at the side gate carrying a plate of homemade scones wrapped in a tea towel.
“I hope I’m not early.”
“My dear Elizabeth,” Hyacinth beamed. “Punctuality is the hallmark of breeding.”
Elizabeth smiled, relieved.
Unfortunately, while stepping onto the patio, she caught her foot on a flowerpot and only just managed to save the scones.
“Oh!”
“The scones survived,” Hyacinth observed. “Excellent.”
Richard quietly rescued the flowerpot before Hyacinth noticed.
Just then Emmet arrived, looking as though he would rather be conducting an orchestra than attending another one of Hyacinth’s social events.
“Good afternoon.”
“Mr. Hawksworth!” Hyacinth declared. “You have arrived just in time to admire the symmetry of my hydrangeas.”
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“I was actually admiring how quickly I could leave.”
“You do have the most amusing sense of humour.”
Across the fence, Onslow sat comfortably in his usual vest with Daisy beside him.
“What’s all this then?” he asked.
Rose leaned over the fence.
“Garden party.”
Onslow grinned.
“That means posh sandwiches.”
Hyacinth overheard him immediately.
“This is an invitation-only occasion!”
Onslow nodded.
“Didn’t ask for one.”
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As the guests settled into their seats, Hyacinth poured tea with exaggerated grace.
“Richard, pass the cucumber sandwiches.”
Before Richard could move, an unexpected honking echoed down the street.
HONK!
HONK!
HONK!
Everyone turned.
A large white goose waddled confidently through the open gate as though it owned the property.
Richard blinked.
“That’s unusual.”
Hyacinth smiled uncertainly.
“It will undoubtedly continue along its way.”
Instead, the goose marched straight toward the tea table.
Elizabeth whispered, “Does… does it look hungry?”
The goose answered by snatching an entire cucumber sandwich directly from the serving plate.
Onslow, watching from next door, burst into laughter.
“Well,” he shouted, “it’s got better taste than I expected!”
Hyacinth stood frozen.
“That goose,” she announced, “is trespassing.”
The goose looked directly at her… spread its enormous wings… and let out a thunderous hiss that sent every guest instinctively stepping backward.
Elizabeth squealed.
Richard dropped the sugar bowl.
Emmet quietly calculated the fastest route to his car.
Then the goose spotted the gleaming silver cake stand in the centre of the table…
…and charged toward it at full speed.
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