Children are so sticky, particularly after tea: Mapp and Lucia and eBay

Mapp and Lucia and eBay

The electronic social etiquette of Tilling had been set for several years. When mobile phones first appeared, Lucia Pillson had considering the purchase of one, but they were large and ungainly, and reception was bad, and so she decided against it. As communication and internet technology had advanced, most of Tilling had bought desktop computers, which were lately replaced with laptops, and mobile phones, which were in the process of being replaced with smart phones.

The etiquette had been, for the most part, gently dictated by Mr Algernon Wyse, whose urbanity and genteel behavior was an example to all. One might carry a mobile phone, but it was to be turned completely off when at luncheon, tea, dinner, or when playing Bridge. One might leave it on vibrate whilst shopping, so one would know there had been a call, but one must not answer while chatting with friends in the High Street. Mr Wyse himself carried a mobile only for emergency use. His wife Susan, who had a grown daughter from a previous marriage to keep in touch with, used her mobile more than did Mr Wyse. Lucia and her husband Georgie adored phoning and texting each other their observations, but recent hacking scandals had made them become more circumspect in their comments of late.

There were, however, two hold-outs. One was Elizabeth Mapp-Flint, who said computers were “a prelude to rudeness” and mobile phones, “quite unnecessary”. Her husband, Major Benjamin Mapp-Flint, had got Elizabeth to begin carrying one of the simpler models of mobile phone, arguing that if something happened to her, she would be able to contact her Benjy-boy or Emergency Services with the press of a button; a man must look after his wife’s welfare, and Major Benjy was not a man to shirk his marital duties. Elizabeth had been more intractable on the purchase of a computer. For many years Major Benjy had to make do with the use of a complimentary computer at the Golf Club, which was available to all members. But he had realized that he could print out coupons from local merchants for his thrifty wife to use, and he pointed out that many merchants had special sales that were announced only by email or on a social networking page; thus did he seduce his wife into the modern world.

So, in the name of household frugality, Elizabeth had allowed him to purchase an inexpensive laptop computer. She daily searched for bargains and found delight in visiting merchants who offered to match the advertised price from competing merchants, and getting herself a “deal”. She found this “searching for a deal” just as enjoyable as her weekly disputations with the tradesmen of Tilling over their bills.

The other hold-out was, surprisingly, Quaint Irene Coles, who had “messed about” with a PC and a Mac and declared both to be “the bane of modern artistic expression”. So, while she did carry a mobile, mostly to exchange frequent calls, texts and emails with Lucia, to whom she was passionately devoted, Irene did not have a computer. Her easel, canvas and paints were enough for her.

Elizabeth Mapp-Flint’s antipathy toward mobile phones and their relay towers that had provided Tilling with gossip and news for several months. A large mobile phone company had attempted to lease from the Borough a small part of the embankment that held back the spring tides, so that they could erect a mast on that site. However, the location most suitable for the mobile company was directly across the road from the Mapp-Flint’s home, Grebe. Elizabeth had attended every meeting and protested vociferously. The mobile phone company had offered her a stipend, but Elizabeth said the stipend was not enough for “industrializing the view from my front windows”. She had hoped the company would increase the the amount of their offered stipend; instead, the mobile phone company had withdrawn their offer, citing “public opposition to their use of the proposed location”.

The resultant loss of revenue for the Borough did not set well with the Corporation, and they voted unanimously to allow a smaller mast, which could be used for Emergency Services radio as well as mobile phones, to be placed atop the Landgate. Mrs Mapp-Flint, though Mayoress, was not a member of the Corporation and her protests were quashed. Vicar Kenneth Bartlett, known to his friends as “Padre”, also benefitted from Elizabeth’s protestations, as he allowed a mast to be placed on the church (with the Bishop’s permission), and the monies earned go into the coffers of the church, which is always in need of some sort of restoration.

Irene Coles spent all day watching the installation of the Landgate mast and happily sketched the husky workman and two huskier workwomen who did the installation. Upon the job’s completion, Irene stood the workers one round, and then another, at the Queen’s Head pub. One of the women, who informed Irene that her correct title was “Mast Installation Technician,” returned with Irene to her home Taromina “to view her oils”.

The mobile phone company then chose another site for the necessary tower, a small but high and solid tor amid the sand dunes, which was occupied by an unplumbed shack. That parcel of land and the shack thereon belonged to Mrs Wyse; her daughter Isabel had moved back to Mallards Cottage after living in the shack for several years. The land had been sold to the mobile phone company at a scandalous profit, which caused a period of hostility between the two ladies, Mrs Wyse and Mrs Mapp-Flint, but eventually the ruffled feathers were smoothed and the social life of Tilling once again took flight.

“Humph! Next thing I know, Diva, they’ll be putting up wind turbines in my garden at Grebe!” huffed Elizabeth to her friend Godiva Plaistow; and that was the final word on the matter.

~~~~~~~~~~

On a pleasant morning late in March, Lucia Pillson was hailed by Diva Plaistow when she came out of the post office.

“Good Morning, dear Diva!” called Lucia gaily as Diva scudded across the High Street toward her. “Such beautiful weather we’re having!” Lucia continued, holding her hat against a playful breeze that threatened to change from a lamb into a lion. Lucia turned her face up to the blue sky which was artistically enhanced by white, puffy clouds blowing merrily westward.

Diva waited a moment—no longer—for Lucia’s attention to return to earth. “Yes, delightful. Any news?” There had been a dearth of news in Tilling the past weeks, and Diva was eager for something, anything, to happen. The mobile phone mast hostilities were over and Tilling was ready for the next conflict or, better yet, the next conflagration.

“Nothing, Diva. Except a little internet shopping. I think I shall have to get my own laptop; Georgie spends so much time on Facebook that I barely get a moment online.”

Chatting with the Prima Donna Olga Bracely, Diva thought.

“And I would never stoop to using a Borough computer for personal business,” Lucia solemnly averred; “Perhaps iPhones are in order, so we won’t be tied down.” Lucia had spent several hours online, after tea yesterday and after breakfast today, studying iPhones. When she and Georgie obtained theirs, they would appear in the High Street knowing exactly how to use them and amaze Tilling society with their ability to Tweet and their mastery of the latest apps. A membership in Audible.com looked interesting; Lucia had so little time to read because of her social and mayoral duties.

Diva was disappointed, but she always believed that any news was better than no news. “See anything interesting online?”

Lucia lowered her voice and leaned toward Diva. “Indeed I have. I noticed an antique blue-and-white china pig on eBay. I downloaded the photos and enhanced them using Photoshop; after examining the photos, I concluded that it is a very early example of the Tilling pottery pig, in the chinoiserie style, made here in East Sussex. Probably from the early-to mid-1700s.”

“No!” exclaimed Diva.

“No one had bid, so I bid the minimum. Quite an exciting find, really. I hope I can win the bid, so it can be donated to the Tilling Historical Society.”

After exchanging a few pleasantries, the two ladies parted. Diva paused for a moment to think. This porcelain pig was news, of a sort—if it was not another washout, like Lucia’s Roman excavations. Anyway, Diva concluded, it’s something to discuss. But a puckish little imp had overheard the conversation and it whispered into Diva’s ear a plan that could turn this sort-of-news into the hostilities that so amused Tilling.

Diva popped into Twistevant’s, the greengrocer’s shop. Her business, Ye Olde Tea-House, was low on lemons and Cook was using the last of them to make lemon cakes. Diva had purchased pans that produced small cakes shaped like half of a lemon; her maid Janet had suggested they put two of these cakes together using lemon curd, so that it appeared that the customer was getting a whole lemon. Clever, really, and popular. The cakes were simple and inexpensive to produce, and customers were willing to pay a comparatively high price for them. So Diva was happy at the revenue, and Cook was happy that so many people liked her recipe, and Janet was happy that her idea was so popular, and the customers were happy with the delicious cakes.

Inside Twistevant’s, Diva met Elizabeth Mapp-Flint, who was in a good mood, as she had just concluded a deal for selling this year’s garden produce. The garden of her house, Grebe, just outside of Tilling, was much larger than the garden she had when she resided at Mallards, in town. She was happy for the added income and Mr Twistevant was happy for the fresh produce: he liked being able to assure his customers that his goods had been “picked just this morning, you won’t find any fresher!”

Diva purchased several pounds of lemons, to be delivered as soon as possible.

“Goodness, Diva! If you keep placing orders like that, I shall have to plant lemon trees in my garden,” said Elizabeth pleasantly. She smiled kindly, quite unlike the hungry hyena smile she gave when she was angry, upset or merely feeling malicious.

“You’d have to build a greenhouse. Might not be worth the expense,” returned Diva.

“Any news?” cooed Elizabeth, knowing that if there was any gossip to be had, Diva would have it.

“Not much. Just saw Lucia—”

“And how is Dear Worship?” Elizabeth’s smile became wider and more ferocious at the mention of her rival’s name.

And now the puckish strategy was put into play: “She found an antique Tilling crockery pig on eBay. Thinks it’s extremely valuable. No bids, so she bid the minimum. That’s all,” Diva finished, noticing for the first time that Elizabeth’s eyes bulged a bit and became glassy at the mention of Lucia. Gosh, thought Diva, sometimes I think Elizabeth really hates Lucia.

Elizabeth laughed. “Dear Worship! Simply copying my collection, my rainbow of quaint little piggies, which she has seen in my dining room.”

It was getting late, and the seeds, not of lemons but of war, had been planted. Diva bid her old friend au reservior and returned home. Won’t take long, Diva thought; The Wyses are hosting two tables for Bridge at my Tea-House this afternoon, and Lucia and Elizabeth are bound to be there; I’ll soon know if Elizabeth has taken the bait.

~~~~~~~~~~

The bait had, indeed, been taken. As Elizabeth walked home, she forgot about her successful commercial transaction and worked herself into a dudgeon over a pig. Lucia’s stealing my quaint little piggies! she thought, I’ll just see about that. Fortunately Benjy was out playing golf, and Elizabeth had the computer to herself. She quickly logged on, and she Googled “eBay Tilling crockery pig”. The second entry took her to the web-page that she sought. She looked over the photos that the seller had posted, and read the description provided. There had been only one bid—Lucia’s. The chinoiserie pig did bear a striking resemblance to her quaint little rainbow of piggies; she had one in every color, but none with the blue-and-white patterns of the Far East. Elizabeth went into the dining room and carefully lifted a piggie down from the shelf.

http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/Rye-Pottery-Belle-Vue-Pottery-Antique-Sussex-Pig-circa-1900-Hop-Ware-/300703310018

This was the first piggy she had acquired; it had come with the house when she inherited Mallards from her great aunt Caroline. It was in a rather bilious shade of green, which Elizabeth had never liked. She looked it over carefully: the potter’s mark appeared to be the same as those on the eBay piggy. She replaced the pig, noting that her set was—she had thought—complete once again, after she had replaced one pig that Benjy had broken and hidden in the back of a drawer in his desk; she had discovered it whilst “cleaning” her husband’s desk, which consisted mostly of her going through his papers and reading any letters and bills he had received.

Elizabeth returned to the computer. The desire to have a truly complete set had taken hold of her—Diva's imp had followed her home. She checked the name on the bidder’s account: “lobsteralariseholme”. She created an eBay account; after much consideration, Elizabeth rejected the user ID names “Girliepiggy” and “rainbowpiggy”, and instead chose the impish moniker “rumplepigskin”. She thought, Lucia will never associate that name with me: and she then overbid Lucia by five pounds, thinking that amount would be a safe margin and curb Lucia from bidding again.

After she placed her bid, she saw a line on the webpage that she had not noticed before—Time Left: 1 d 2 h. Elizabeth suddenly realized that Lucia would have plenty of time to place another bid. She would have to keep the site up and check it often, if she was to acquire this antique. Leaving the computer on and the page up, with a note saying, “DO NOT TOUCH!!!” on it, she went upstairs to dress for tea with the Wyses at Ye Olde Tea-House.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Wyses were at Ye Olde Tea-House early in order to meet their guests. The Padre and his wife, the mouse-like Evie, were first to arrive.

“’Twas a bonny day for m’ parish visits! I rode yon bicycle ‘round ‘neath the shining sun,” said the Padre, who spoke in a combination of Elizabethan English and archaic Scots.

“Indeed. A beautiful day for it,” agreed Mr Wyse, after bowing to the Padre; “perhaps we can renew our cycling picnics soon. It is a good thing you enjoyed the weather today; I’ve been informed that Google weather predicts a storm which will arrive during the night.” Mr Wyse bowed to Google.

“Ach, ‘tis a good thing indeed I got to enjoy the sunshine today,” agreed the Padre. His wife tittered a little to signify that she was attending to the conversation.

“Yes,” chimed Susan Wyse; “I’ll be happy to resume riding my tricycle. I found that I missed the exercise!” Susan and Evie then stepped away from the gentlemen and Susan confided, “I lost ten pounds over the summer and autumn; unfortunately, I gained it back over the winter.”

“The exercise is the important thing,” said Evie seriously; “I was reading an article on the cardiovascular benefits of bicycling to Kenneth just yesterday.” Evie was an ardent reader of Web MD; fortunately, she had innate good sense, which kept her from imagining symptoms and diagnosing herself and those around her.

Lucia and Georgie entered and greetings were exchanged. When Evie asked, “Any news?” Georgie shook his head, and Lucia repeated her words about the Tilling crockery pig and her eBay bid.

“Susan, we shall have to look up the listing when we return home this evening,” said Mr Wyse; he turned to Lucia, “It sounds as if you may have made a significant find! I shall be very interested to see the Tilling pig when you obtain it.”

Susan Wyse said, “I’m quite sure that the Historical Society will be thrilled to display it.”

Georgie chimed in, “Just before we left Mallards House, I checked the website and found that someone else had made a higher bid than Lucia. We had to stop and raise the bid, which is why we’re rather late.”

Diva, who was placing a plate of lemon cakes on the sideboard in the back room she used for Bridge parties, smiled. She longed to tell the assembled group just who placed the competing bid but held her peace—she wanted to see what else would happen before she showed her hand.

The Mapp-Flints arrived, and Diva brought in tea and a small whisky for Major Benjy. The service of liquor was, for her business, against Borough Ordinance, but everyone knew that after a drink Major Benjy was more affable and that his Bridge-playing improved, so it was looked upon as a gesture based upon friendship rather than custom; no other customer was ever offered spirituous drinks. And the Wyses took their duty as host and hostess very seriously, as did Lucia and Georgie when they hosted tea-and-Bridge, so this small concession to Major Benjy's alcohol addiction was accepted.

Susan Wyse distracted everyone from Benjy’s tipple by commenting on the lemon cakes. “We ordered them especially. They’re scrumptious!” Scrumptious was one of Diva’s words, but Susan found Diva’s manner of speaking was sometimes amusing and so she borrowed words from Diva’s vocabulary, although Susan had never yet “popped” into or out of any store in Tilling, for “popping” took wordplay to a level that Algernon would consider too lacking in dignity for Susan or for any other Member of the Order of the British Empire.

Before the Mapp-Flints left Grebe, Benjy had noticed and commented upon the laptop being left on; Elizabeth made it quite clear that he was to refrain from mentioning it to any of their friends. In consequence, more than one person noticed that Major Benjy was very careful when speaking, but everyone assumed he was, as usual, in the doghouse; politely unspoken in public was the shared belief that life with Elizabeth could be hell.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Pillsons returned home and, even before telling Grosvenor that they would require only a tray for dinner, Lucia went to the computer and refreshed the eBay page. “My bid stands, Georgie!” she breathed a sigh of relief.

The Mapp-Flints returned home and, even before telling Withers that they would require only a tray for dinner, Elizabeth went to the computer and refreshed the eBay page. “She’s raised the bid!” Elizabeth exclaimed, and immediately sat down and raised the bid again.

Lucia sat down at the piano for a few minutes practice; she was renewing her acquaintance with “dainty Scarlatti”. Georgie picked up his tambour and his silks and glanced up at his wife. The computer was between them, facing Georgie, and he noticed that there had been a change on the screen. “Lucia!” he gasped. She looked inquiringly at him and, wordlessly, he pointed at the computer. Lucia calmly rose and walked around to look at the screen.

“Yes, Georgie, the bid has been raised. I shall raise it higher,” and she did. Then she said (for at least the fourth time today, thought Georgie), “I’m certain it’s George the First, or possibly Queen Anne! How wonderful it would be to have it on display in the Ypres Tower, or here in the garden-room at Mallards House!”

Georgie was a little tired of hearing this, “Well, they are of an age, Mallards and pigs.” And he returned to his tambour.

“Georgie! They’ve raised the bid again!”

“No!” exclaimed Georgie and, laying aside his tambour and silks, he joined Lucia in front of the computer.

“Pull up a chair! Presto! Presto!” Lucia cried. Georgie moved a chair over and sat beside Lucia as she raised her bid.

“Oh, Georgie! Will they raise it again?” Lucia paused, her eyes on the computer screen.

“Look! My hands are shaking! Isn’t this exciting!” said Georgie breathlessly. Lucia took his hand in hers.

A moment passed. “Refresh the screen, Georgie!”

Georgie put his free hand over his eyes, “No, I can’t look!”

Lucia clicked on the refresh button. “They’ve raised it again!” She released Georgie’s hand and typed in her bid.

As she typed, Georgie exclaimed, “Let me hit Enter!” and he uncovered his eyes.

“Si! Presto, Georgino! Me so excited!”

Georgie hit the Enter key. They paused, waiting for a response from the other bidder. “Lucia—” Georgie began, then paused, thinking. “Why just raise the price five pounds? Why not raise ten, or even twenty? That might knock this upstart out of the bidding.”

“Georgie! What an excellent idea!” Lucia clicked the refresh key. She had not been overbid. “You’re right, Georgie! The upstart must be reconsidering, even now.”

Grosvenor and the parlourmaid had been standing unnoticed inside the garden-room for several minutes; Grosvenor motioned to the maid and they sat two trays on the table. Lucia and Georgie still did not notice. She cleared her throat, “Your trays, Madam.” Lucia and Georgie looked up from the computer screen and blinked in unison.

“Thank you, Grosvenor,” said Lucia politely; “We will ring when we have finished.”

“Very good, Madam,” the two left the room.

“Cor!” the parlourmaid exclaimed as they entered the kitchen; “I was hoping we could stay and see who won!”

“None of that, my girl!” said Grosvenor, thinking, I was hoping we could stay, too.

~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, out on the marshes at Grebe, Elizabeth was worried. Lucia had countered every bid she had entered. Benjy hung over her shoulder.

“Up the ante, Girlie! Show ‘em they can’t come between Liz Mapp-Flint and a Tilling piggy!”

Elizabeth considered. She had already bid five pounds over the limit she had set for herself.

Major Benjy continued, “Bid higher! Bid ten or twenty! Knock ‘em out of the race!” Major Benjy did not know that Elizabeth was bidding against Lucia, for his wife had failed to mention it and he had failed to notice the user ID “lobsteralariseholme”. Benjy had not been this excited since they won money at the Casino when they were in Monte Carlo for their honeymoon. His wife sat considering, and Benjy became calmer. “Aren’t you gonna bid?”

“But I’m already over the limit I set for myself,” then to his surprise, his wife uttered words that he never thought to hear: “Oh, Benjy! What should I do?!”

The gruff Major softened; he took his wife’s hand in his. “Well, Girlie, how badly do you want this pig? Think about it for a moment.” Silence. “Girlie?”

“Oh, Benjy! It would be the crowning piece of my collection. I’ve never seen nor heard of any Tilling pig that wasn’t a solid color. And it says, ‘I won’t be druv,’ just like the others. I do want it ever so much!”

Major Benjy had received his pension yesterday. His Golf Club membership was paid up through the end of the year. He owed his wine merchant, but that could wait. He pulled out his pocketbook, took out a ten pound note and spread it out on Elizabeth’s lap. “Bid ten, Liz,” he said gently, “And let us see what happens.”

“No, Benjy—your ten and my ten—I bid twenty.” She entered the number. “Let us press Enter together, Benjy.” He took her plump hand in his and together they depressed the Enter key. Elizabeth drew in a breath. “Now we wait, Benjy.”

“Now we wait together, Girlie; together.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Lucia stood abruptly and walked to the window; she peeped out at the dark length of West Street and saw Mrs Dobbie at the post box. “Refresh, Georgie, and tell me—”, suddenly Lucia knew who her rival bidder was.

“Twenty pounds more!” Georgie squealed, interrupting his wife in his excitement. “Bid twenty! Bid thirty! Or fifty!”

Lucia had used the minutes between her bid and Elizabeth's to consider. “Georgie. Do we know anyone who could be bidding for a Tilling crockery pig?” Her husband tore his eyes away from the screen and looked at her. “Think, Georgino,” she said. “Tilling. Crockery. Pig.”

“Elizabeth Mapp-Flint.”

“Yes.”

“Bid fifty! You can defeat her!”

“But, Georgie, do I want to?”

“Whatever do you mean, Lucia? If it’s Georgian or Restoration Era, it could be worth a great deal of money.”

“Do we need more money, Georgino?” replied Lucia; “And what if I’m wrong?”

“Yes; I see. But you could crush her . . . .” His wife was shaking her head.

“Bidding against me has cost Elizabeth a good number of pounds, which she won’t like,” reasoned Lucia. “Georgie, Tilling’s been quiet these past few weeks, since Elizabeth is no longer feuding with Susan over masts and towers and missed opportunities. Have you enjoyed the quiet?”

“The first couple of weeks were a relief, but lately it’s been deadly dull.”

“And if I crushed Elizabeth—?” Lucia began.

“—there’d be no more battles to look forward to!” finished Georgie.

“Shut off the computer, Georgie. It’s a good thing we’re having cold lamb; otherwise, while we were bidding it would have gone—” Lucia paused, trying to think of a word that meant “cold”.

“—cold,” finished Georgie, as he closed the lid of the laptop.

~~~~~~~~~~

The storm that Google weather had predicted brought rain overnight, but the next morning was merely overcast. The computer stayed closed, logged off, shut down, and unplugged. “Don’t you want to check it?” Georgie asked.

“Georgie, let’s go shopping. I’m sure Diva will love to tell us the outcome,” said Lucia. “My Town Clerk texted that no business awaits me at Town Hall this morning.”

Coming out of the poulterer’s shop, they saw Diva talking to Elizabeth at the corner of the High Street. Elizabeth snubbed Lucia and Georgie, walking away from them. But Diva approached rapidly.

Lucia fixed Diva with her gimlet eye. “Well, Diva, did Elizabeth buy my pig?”

Diva nodded and opened her mouth to speak, and then suddenly closed it. She just then realized that Lucia had told no one except Diva and Georgie about the pig before the Wyse’s tea-and-Bridge party. And Georgie had been in Hastings, returning just in time to change his clothing and hurry to Ye Olde Tea-House, stopping only to raise the bid on the way. So how did Elizabeth know to bid against Lucia before tea? Lucia’s gimlet glance and Diva’s silence were all the answers any Tillingite needed.

But the social life of Tilling must continue, so Lucia simply said, “Diva, that tea yesterday was ‘scrumptious!’ I think Georgie and I should host a similar party next week. Tell me, do you have recipes for anything other than lemon? I noticed a set of pans at the shops that make cakes shaped like pineapples . . . .”

In one of those odd coincidences that sometime happen, that same day Georgie received a package from Olga Bracely in the post. It was several pieces of modern English light music by Frederic Curzon, “A genius,” Olga raved, “one of the most under-appreciated British composers”. One of the works was entitled Dance of an Ostracized Imp.

The End

Notes:

Images were taken from Google Image search. Where possible, I credited the site from which I took the image; however, on some photos I was unable to locate where I found them after the fact, and these are the unattributed images.

I was delighted to find http://www.geograph.org.uk/ which is where I got many of the photos I used. Other photo-sharing sites have far too constrictive copyright requirements (one wanted £600 per photo).

I like to visit http://myvintagevogue.com/gal/index.php and try to figure out which models are Lucia, Olga, Isabel and other characters.

I like to visit http://thepaintedwoman.blogspot.com/ for general 1920s & 1930s fun. From her 1930s cycling fashion page, a photo I think of as Lucia snapping a photo of Georgie (wearing plus-fours). From Trouble for Lucia:

"So clever of you, Worship, to take so many pretty photographs in so short a time."

Lucia was not the least disconcerted.

"They were all very short exposures, dear," she said. "I will explain that to you sometime."