## Breaking News
In which the Bluestocking reacts extremely normally to developments in Plymouth...
Morning arrived softly at the Bluestocking.
Sunlight spilled through the windows in warm rectangles across mismatched rugs and sleeping gerbils. Somewhere in the kitchen, somebody was whisking something ambitious. Colin snored gently beneath a chair with one ear turned inside out.
Maud sat curled in her favourite armchair near the window with a mug of tea, a neat slice of Battenberg, and her SqueakPad balanced carefully on her lap. She was still settling back in properly after returning home.
The Bluestocking had many wonderful qualities, but “peaceful” was not usually among them. This morning, however, came close. A capybara was quietly repairing a shelf near the bar. Two guinea pigs were discussing dahlias. Somewhere upstairs, a gerbil choir was rehearsing extremely gently by their standards.
Maud took a peaceful sip of tea and opened The Daily Gerbil.
The Battenberg paused halfway to her mouth.
On the screen beneath the words, GERBIL ARRESTED, was a photograph of Gosie in the back of a police car looking absolutely terrified while Kevin flew alongside screaming: I TOLD YOU IT WAS THE CALAMARI!
For several seconds, Maud simply stared. Then very quietly she said: “Oh dear.”
The silence that followed lasted almost three entire seconds. Which for the Bluestocking counted as geological time.
“What?” called somebody from the kitchen.
Maud looked up slowly from her SqueakPad. “I think,” she said carefully, “Gosie may have been arrested in Plymouth.”
The entire pub detonated.
“What?” shouted somebody from upstairs.
“ARRESTED?” yelled somebody else.
The Choirbils stopped singing so abruptly that one of them continued holding a triangle note entirely alone for several confused seconds.
Maud was immediately surrounded.
The SqueakPad vanished from her paws and began circulating around the pub at alarming speed.
“Oh my goodness.”
“Why is Kevin there?”
“What’s calamari?”
“Is Gosie in prison?”
“It says custody.”
“That’s basically prison.”
“No it isn’t.”
“It’s a bank holiday weekend!”
A terrible silence fell.
Every gerbil in the room slowly turned toward Maud.
Maud looked across at Grünhilde, who had appeared silently beside the armchair at some point during the unfolding catastrophe.
“Oh no,” Maud said quietly.
Grünhilde adjusted her spectacles.“What?”
“They think she won’t be released until Tuesday.”
Grünhilde closed her eyes briefly.
Around them, several gerbils had clearly reached the same conclusion independently and were already beginning to panic.
The reaction was immediate.
Absolute pandemonium.
Three gerbils sprinted toward the cellar. Two capybaras abandoned a shelving project and began moving timber for reasons nobody understood. Somebody rang an alarm bell that definitely had not existed ten minutes earlier. Colin woke up, barked once, and stole the abandoned Battenberg.
Maud attempted calm. “Everyone, please listen carefully. Britain has habeas corpus and functioning custody procedures—”
Nobody listened.
One gerbil had already produced what appeared to be a hand-drawn map of Plymouth despite demonstrably never having visited Devon.
Another was whispering, “Extraction routes.” to a deeply alarmed guinea pig.
The gerbils reading the SqueakPad continued making matters worse.
“Look at her little face!”
“Those monsters!”
“Is that a Morris dancer?”
“WHY ARE THERE MORRIS DANCERS?”
“!!!! They took Gosie’s stars!”
At the far end of the pub, @Swashbuckled finally lowered the paper she had been reading. Silence spread outward slowly from her corner of the room.
Swashy adjusted her hat thoughtfully. “Hm,” she said.
Every creature nearby froze.
The last time Swashbuckled had sounded this calm, three customs officials had needed counselling.
Swashbuckled looked once more at the photograph of Gosie in the police car. Then she said: “Plymouth’s accessible from the Sound this time of year.”
Complete silence.
Even the Choirbils stopped rustling.
Maud stared at her. “Swashy,” she said carefully, “nobody is mounting a maritime rescue operation against the Devon and Cornwall constabulary.”
Swashbuckled stood up.
“Well,” she said, reaching calmly for her coat, “not with that attitude.”
https://myrtlelion.substack.com/p/breaking-news