The Box of Distractions
In which The Bluestocking prepares for a rescue that is clearly unnecessary...
By early evening, the Bluestocking had reached the stage of crisis where enthusiasm had completely overtaken proportionality.
Maud was attempting to calm the increasingly theatrical panic by pointing out that Gosie had merely been arrested and that Hedgehog and Octavia Briefcase would sort everything out shortly.
Nobody appeared to be listening. In fact, this seemed to have enthused everyone further.
One of the gerbils had started painting tiny semaphore flags. A capybara arrived carrying more rope. Somebody else was attempting to teach the Choirbils a sea shanty in canon form.
Down by the harbour, @Swashbuckled continued preparing for maritime extraction anyway.
Additional volunteers had begun arriving at alarming speed.
@EdithStourton announced that she could tie a bowline, knew what a jam cleat was, could use a winch, and had some limited experience steering largish vessels under sail.
Swashy nodded once. “You’re aboard.”
@RandomHypatia declared that if the rescue operation involved conic sections or long division, she was the fourth-century woman for the job.
@Magpiecomplex offered “anything sparkly.”
@MarieDeGournay announced that she would remain in the Bluestocking and think deeply about the Gosie situation in French. Nobody objected. It sounded extremely intellectual.
Meanwhile, Brains had become distracted by a dropped sausage roll and was reconsidering whether maritime rescue aligned with her broader personal goals.
Then @AngleofRepose walked back into the Bluestocking carrying a golden box. Everyone looked at it.
“What’s the box for?” asked Maud.
“It’s a Box of Distractions,” said Angle, sitting down carefully with it beside her.
“A box for distractions?”
“No,” said Angle patiently. “A Box of Distractions.”
This clarified absolutely nothing.
“What does it do?” asked a gerbil.
Angle shrugged. “Carmela the Camel gave it to me. Because Reasons.”
Swashbuckled accepted the box immediately. “Excellent,” she said.
Meanwhile, in Plymouth, the Bank Holiday evening was glowing gold across the Hoe. Café Roma was still busy beneath the trees opposite the courts. Hedgehog and Octavia Briefcase had already secured a table outside. Several nearby tourists were pretending not to stare at Octavia while very obviously staring at Octavia. Hedgehog appeared not to notice. Octavia appeared entirely accustomed to it.
AngleofRepose arrived carrying coffee, flapjack and a paper copy of the Daily Gerbil folded beneath one arm. She set the tray and the newspaper down on the table. On the front page was the photograph of Gosie in the back of the police car looking terrified while Kevin screamed through the window beside her.
Octavia glanced at the tray. “That flapjack,” she observed, “is emotionally manipulative.”
Kevin and Steve were already nearby. Kevin landed heavily beside the table. “CALAMARI,” he announced darkly. Steve stole half of Hedgehog’s flapjack.
Octavia watched them carefully. “I don’t think those are normal seagulls.”
“No,” said Angle. “Those are Kevin and Steve.”
Across the road, Charles Cross police station shimmered quietly in the evening heat.
Hedgehog stood up. “Let’s go and retrieve our gerbil.”
At the custody desk, the sergeant, a broad-faced polecat with silvering whiskers, studied the newspaper photograph. “Name?”
“Gosie,” said Hedgehog.
Typing. Pause. More typing.
The sergeant frowned slightly. “Surname?”
“Bluestocking,” said Hedgehog automatically.
The sergeant raised an eyebrow, then checked a second screen. Then a third. “No arrest record,” she said.
“That’s impossible,” said Hedgehog.
“We’ve checked twice.”
Octavia Briefcase reached for the newspaper and carefully studied the photograph for several long seconds. Then she pointed at one of the police officers in the photo. “The uniform buttons,” she said. “They’re too shiny.”
The sergeant leaned forward to look. Another silence. Then she said quietly, “…those aren’t police uniforms.”
Hedgehog went cold. “Gosie’s been kidnapped.”
https://myrtlelion.substack.com/p/the-box-of-distractions