New Décor at Butterglove House

There has been a little disruption at Butterglove House over the past week. Nothing bad, before you worry – we’ve merely had a new carpet laid in the living room. Cecile and I agreed that it was about time – the previous one had seen better days, but there were reasons that it had taken so long to seek a replacement.

One reason was that Cecile wanted something that “harmonised with the wallpaper” but it had to be hard-wearing given the amount of foot traffic we get in that room. We agreed that we’d approach Septimus Persis to make us a suitable carpet once we had enough funds. And that was the second reason.

It may not be obvious, but we’re not particularly wealthy. I'm not saying we’re exactly poor, but we have to budget carefully. True, we live in one of the larger houses in Mellowdene, but you have to realise that the house has been in the family for generations and that Merlin and I are simply the current owners. We share maintenance and utility costs, but that’s about it with regard to the property itself. Everything else we buy has to come from our remaining earnings or via barter.

A decent hand-made carpet is a significant cost and neither Cecile nor I would ever consider making such an investment until we had sufficient funds. Of course, songwriters don’t often have a guaranteed income. That’s why the unexpected influx of money last year was such a delightful surprise. When Rodentine toothpaste moved into television advertising, the initial windfall when they decided to revive our jingle put a significant sum into our bank account, with additional smaller sums paid every few months.

Jackson Butterglove and Christian Snow-Warren at the bank

When taken together with the royalties from the Lionel Grand album, Cecile and I were finally in a position to agree. We could buy the carpet we wanted.

Septimus has been working on it for months, and he even incorporated the small rabbit motif in the design. Periodically he called us to see his progress and it was a pleasure to witness his skill. Last month, when he told us it was ready, we agreed a date when it could be fitted.

Septimus delivers the carpet

Two members of HHG Enterprises would help with the fitting. HHG is a small company that performs a variety of physical work in Mellowdene and is available for hire; the council uses them to help maintain the roads so they were more than capable of assisting Septimus.

Perkin Harvey and Richard Grunt are watched unloading the carpet

One of the HHG workers was Rickie Grunt (the other was Perkin Harvey). When Septimus, Rickie and Perkin arrived, they had two children in tow – Nolly Persis and Hughie Grunt. They supposedly came along to watch their fathers work, but everyone knew that they had tagged along to see Brendan.

With most of our furniture against set against the wall, there wasn’t a great deal to move. The carpet didn’t extend far enough to affect my piano, but I hovered protectively in the vicinity anyway. It didn’t take too long for Perkin and Rickie to roll up the old carpet, and afterwards they slowly brushed the floor beneath, being careful not to raise too much dust – clearly they’d been briefed by Septimus beforehand.

I think Cecile must have been watching as, no sooner as they had done this, she called to them.

“Gentlemen,” she said, “there’s some freshly brewed tea in the kitchen if you want to join Septimus. If you would like to enjoy some refreshments before you put the new carpet down?”

Perkin mock saluted. “That would be just the job, eh Rick?”

“Not half, Perk,” replied his workmate. “Thanks, Cecile.”

o 0 O 0 o

I followed them a few minutes later. Perkin was enjoying a slice of cake, whilst Septimus, Rickie and Cecile were discussing our boys.

“I didn’t expect Kittie Camp to have such an effect on Hugh,” said Rickie Grunt. “He used to spend all his spare time modelling clay, but his interests have truly grown after his experiences there.”

“And not to mention meeting different people outside of school,” said Septimus. “Before Camp, Nolly only used to play with other cats.”

Perkin wiped his mouth. “You think he’s benefited? I was thinking of letting my Austin go to Camp next year.”

“Definitely,” said Septimus. “It’s widened his perspective, and he seems more excited about life.”

“Brendan’s the same,” said Cecile, “although I wouldn’t have thought that possible. He’s never been afraid to show his feelings, but that seems to apply to a wider range of activities now.”

“I’ll tell you something, Mrs Butterglove…,” said Septimus.

“Cecile.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you. Ever since Nolly started playing with Brendan, I’ve noticed a change in the quality of his schoolwork.”

“Brendan’s not distracting him, I hope.”

“No. It’s a good thing. Eve Wildwood - his teacher - told us that Nolly’s taking more interest in his story writing lessons and showing more imagination. I put that down to some of the games I’ve seen the boys playing.”

Rickie Grunt laughed. “It’s true. It’s hilarious watching them sometimes.”

I had to smile. I was used to some of the inventive games Brendan played with Lucky Snow-Warren and Coco Chocolate. It appeared there were two more converts to the fanciful role-play games of my elder son. I noticed Cecile was proudly smiling too.

It was lovely to share anecdotes about our growing boys. For a short time, all thoughts of the new carpet went out of our heads. That was until we were distracted by a medley of laughter coming from the living room.

With a shared curiosity we left the kitchen.

o 0 O 0 o

Beverley was laughing so much, tears were in her eyes. Russell’s giggles came in fits and starts – maybe he was a little confused - but he found it funny anyway.

In the centre of the living room, the old carpet had become a creature of the imagination – a giant worm, snake or wingless dragon - I don't know what it was – with Brendan as the head, Nolly as the tail, and Hughie as the rider. Brendan was making subdued growling noises, Hughie was chuckling as his carpet steed wobbled beneath him, and Nolly was making some sort of noise but as only his legs were visible, nobody was quite sure what that noise represented.

“Brendan Butterglove!” said Cecile, “What are you doing?”

“Hi mum,” coughed Brendan. “Nolly and me are a sea serpent. Hughie is brave Hugh Yard-Arm the Sailor and he’s taming us.”

“Yard-Arm?” chortled Beverley.

“Well, Mr Serpent,” said Cecile, “that’s all well and good. But I think that’s enough for now. You can help brush up the dust you’ve spread, and then I think we should leave Mr Persis and his friends to put down the new carpet.”

“Okay mum.”

As they disentangled themselves – Nolly blinking and sneezing throughout – Cecile took me to one side.

“Jack,” she said, “do you think we can trust Brendan if we put up the new curtains?”

I did a double take. “What new curtains?”

o 0 O 0 o

We haven’t had curtains at the main living room window for about four or five years. This wasn’t due to cost. It was due to a very young and over exuberant Brendan who insisted on regularly climbing the curtains. It was an early role he adopted as a "jungle man". When the curtain rail detached from the wall, we decided to do without curtains until Brendan was older and had more sense.

As the window isn’t overlooked, there was never a rush to replace the curtains. Now that we were getting a replacement carpet, Cecile had obviously decided now was the time to remedy the curtain issue. She explained.

“When I mentioned to Sybil Clearwater that we were getting Septimus to make us a new carpet, she suggested that she make us some curtains. You remember I made a birthday cake for her daughter last year?”

Cecile and Beverley bump into Sybil, Sherman & Stephanie at the Pink Post Office

I nodded.

“Well, she said that she wanted to return the favour - that she wouldn’t charge for labour, and material would be either free or for more expensive materials a fraction of her cost price. It seemed more than generous so I said I'd make a small cake for her husband in a couple of months.”

I smiled and took her hand. “And when were you going to tell me this?”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “It was going to be a surprise when Sybil brought them tomorrow. Her brother-in-law Reuben is coming to fix them up. But you haven’t answered my question. About Brendan.”

“Whether we can trust him?” I glanced over to see my boy working alongside his chums and the HHG team. “I think so. He’s not a jungle man any more. He’s a sea serpent.”

o 0 O 0 o

The agreement between Cecile and Sybil Clearwater reminds me that I should explain how trade works in Mellowdene.

An element of barter for goods and services still goes on. Our citizens are honest enough to fulfil any promissory work notes that they sign. Helping to dig out some potatoes or doing a few hours of strawberry picking will pay for some farm or orchard produce. This is a fairly obvious example, but other exchanges go on too. There was a case where tutelage of a child to help improve their schoolwork was rewarded with a set of homemade crockery. I've used barter a few times. A stack of manuscript paper was given to me when I wrote a song for someone's anniversary. I believe such exchanges have an additional benefit as they help bond the community. I'd hate to see it die out.

This said, I am practical enough to see that it isn't always a solution. If Chris Snow-Warren writes a poem for someone on the south coast of Sylvania, the recipient is unlikely to travel all the way to Mellowdene to paint his back door! We have to resort to cash. Like many Sylvanian communities we adhere to the sylva currency standard. The Mellowdene bank has contacts all over the land, and we have a good manager with Hugo Trunk. He keeps an eye on all the balances and transactions of our residents and ensures he is available to advise.

But back to the décor.

o 0 O 0 o

Septimus, Rickie and Perkin were most efficient. The new carpet was put in place, and they even put the old one into our attic in case we needed it again. Sybil Clearwater and Reuben McHedge came as promised, and the new curtains were erected within an hour. We even have a new fireside rug! It was a gift from Septimus Persis secretly thanking Brendan for the improvement in Nolly’s schoolwork.

Cecile is delighted with the décor changes to our living room, and I’m quite pleased too – it hasn’t unduly affected the room’s acoustics. Well, one has to be practical!

o 0 O 0 o

The Time Capsule

Although Newton and I were born fourteen months after Merlin popped into the world, for practical purposes we've always considered ourselves the same age.

Having seen the level of work that cousin Samantha and Denzel endure with their quads, I have gained a greater appreciation of my parents, Hansel and Dorothea. Having to cope with three active little bunnies, each with their individual quirks, must have been wearing at times.

Despite being brothers we've always been different. It wasn't too long before Newton wanted to know how things worked, and when he discovered a screwdriver he began to find out.

Taking things apart became less of a problem when he learned how to put them back together again. That didn't happen immediately, but it was still sooner than anyone might have suspected. Yes, even at that early age there were indications that he would evolve into the boffin Professor Butterglove.

When I found out that different pots and pans made different sounds by banging them, I arranged them in tonal order and tried to play simple tunes. I believe my parents were impressed despite the inconvenience. Nevertheless, the noise was a problem. To cut down on this but to encourage my musical leanings, my mum and dad bought me a tiny piano.

Merlin learned to read before he could walk, and there were tales that he could barely lift some of the books he tried to peruse. When he became mobile and a little stronger, he started organising all the books in the house. No one was surprised when he became a librarian.

I think my dad identified with Merlin because of his affinity for books. Hansel Butterglove was a dedicated local historian. When persuading me to write entries for "Life in Mellowdene", Darcy Fielding referred to my family's connection to local history. Dad's collection of historical documents numbered in the thousands, from small leaflets to hefty tomes - some of which only made passing mention to Mellowdene. All were considered significant. The trouble was, due to the number of books and papers, it was too great a task to locate  specific information.

There hadn't been any central documentation to keep everything organised. That is, until my father had created Hansel's Index. He had spent decades working on this set of notebooks, his small neat writing providing a comprehensive cross reference to all the historical documents in the collection. It was his pride and joy.

Note the past tense.

o 0 O 0 o

Despite the tender age we were back then, all three Butterglove brothers still recall the events from that day in May many years ago. This started from the point Merlin skipped into the room.

"Hi mummy! Hi daddy!" he piped. "You'll never guess what I've done."

My parents looked at each other and chuckled softly. My father put down his paper and my mother beckoned him over.

"Well, sweetness. You'd better tell us."

Merlin beamed. "I made a time capsule," he said, drawing a rectangle in the air. Newton abandoned the model he was examining and started to pay attention.

"A time capsule?" she smiled. "What's that, dear?"

"You put special stuff in a box. Not just any box. It's got to be strong and not let in water."

"Oh? Then what?"

"You bury it then you wait years and years and years then you dig it up again and go 'wow' when you see what stuff you put in there. That's good isn't it?" He looked at our dad. "It's a history thing."

Dad laughed. "It certainly is. And what sort of items are you going to put in your time capsule? Are you asking for suggestions?"

"No daddy," said Merlin, shaking his head vigorously. "I done that already."

"You have, have you? What did you choose?"

"Something from all of us. I put in your little pie dish, mummy..."

"Oh," said Mum, "I wish you'd asked, but I have others, I suppose."

"You've got to choose special things to do it proper, mummy. I even put in my teddy."

"You better not have put anything in of mine," said Newton.

"Only your old number-sliding puzzle," assured Merlin.

"Well, I suppose that's alright. I can make a better one."

"And Jackson's mouth organ..."

I wasn't too happy, but figured I could take it out and substitute something else.

Dad interrupted. "You shouldn't be taking things without permission, Merlin."

Merlin nodded repeatedly. "I know, I know, daddy. But this is for history."

"Hmm. Not really the point. You know some might consider this stealing. We don't do that, do we?"

Merlin's lip trembled. "No daddy. I'm sorry. I'll think next time."

Mum reached out and gave him a hug. "He didn't mean any harm, Hansel. We can get the things back and have a rethink."

We noticed Merlin was shuddering. Mum leaned back to look at his tear-streaked face.

"Don't cry, darling. We can fix things."

Merlin blubbered. "It's already buried. Mookie Dappledawn did it for me."

"Oh," said Mum. Even at my young age I could tell that she didn't hold out great hopes. You see, Mookie Dappledawn was an eccentric odd-job man whose memory wasn't that reliable.

"But he told you where he buried it?" prompted my dad, although his face didn't show much confidence.

Merlin brightened. "He did a map!" He delved into his sleeve and brought out a piece of discoloured paper, tried to straighten out the creases and presented it to our mum.

She began to read it silently, then broke off, looking at each of us. Beginning again, she read out the contents for our benefit, enunciating each word clearly.

"Half a dozen eggs, box of tomatoes, two green apples... It's a shopping list."

Newton began to laugh, and despite the loss of my harmonica, I felt the side of my mouth twitch.

Mum started to smile too. "Ah, can't be helped. Just one of those things."

I'm wasn't sure whether or not I should have asked the next question, but I suppose by not doing so it would only have delayed the inevitable.

"Merlin - what did you put in the time capsule for daddy?"

I'm sure you have guessed. I will always remember the incredulous look of horror on my father's face.

"My INDEX?"

o 0 O 0 o

It must have been a terrible effort for my father not to blame Merlin too much. My brother's intentions had been good, and we were very young. The fact remained that the invaluable notebooks had been lost. Recreating them would mean further long years of work.

My dad never managed to do this, especially as a few years later mum wasn't in the best of health. Looking after her and taking the greater part of raising his three boys didn't leave him much spare time. Although never mentioned, I knew Merlin retained an element of guilt. Maybe that was the inspiration that led him to become head librarian working alongside Mona Hazelnut. He'd even managed to have a room put aside for a small museum attached to the library. I suspect it was his intent to recreate Hansel's Index one day.

o 0 O 0 o

Five years ago, maybe influenced by Brendan and Beverley as two growing children, Merlin and Eliza decided to extend their side of Butterglove House to add a separate kitchen and bathroom. Part of this project necessitated the addition of piping to access the spring water that supplies our household. Another part meant laying additional clay sewer pipes to connect to our septic tank. This meant calling in the Mice & Clean team.

Eliza answered the door when a knock alerted her to visitors. Or rather, a fragrant Tumble Hazelwood bearing a metal box. In an offhand manner he gestured to his brothers elsewhere in the garden.

"Oh, hello Eliza. We were digging a trench to the tank and Scurry unearthed this box. There's the remains of a label. Says 'me Capsu' or something. What do you want us to do with it?"

o 0 O 0 o

My harmonica had seized up.  Cecile claimed the pie dish.

Newton recently gave his puzzle to his twin daughters for them to squabble over.

Eliza washed the teddy bear and it sleeps with Snorker to this day.

Merlin took over the dining room and rewarded the Hazelwood brothers with a homemade slap-up meal; he was so grateful for their assistance in finding the Index. The meal was such a success, Merlin periodically repeats the invitation, except now he can use his own kitchen. Last time, both Eliza and Orton were happy to help.

And thanks to the Index bringing everything together, there is a historical archive available for the public to view by appointment. It is kept in the Mellowdene Library within the annexe room, now renamed as the "Hansel Museum".

o 0 O 0 o

The Contract

Hi, I'm back. I'm sorry I wasn't free to write something for you last time, but Darcy did a great job. I wonder why he needs me, with his reporting background. Still, never mind. I should explain myself, even though Darcy touched upon the reason.

You may recall that Lionel Grand released a successful long playing record and that Christian Snow-Warren and I had written three songs where soprano Tamara Lynx had featured.

No? Well, it's no matter. The point is that our songs drew the attention of a noted producer. I was approached to compose the tunes for a musical based upon the epic poem The Sylvan River. It seemed to be a great opportunity until I read the contract. It didn't mention Chris. The main reason was that they wanted to use words from the poem. Understandable, but I didn't want to exclude my friend and songwriting partner. I wanted to argue his case so I travelled out of Mellowdene just before Christmas to meet the producer in person. So now you know why Darcy had to fill in.

In case you're wondering, the discussions with the producer resulted in a compromise. The Sylvan River tells a story, but there are parts of the narrative which are rushed compared to the rest. Purists may argue, but the producer was of the same mind. I suggested that Chris write the lyrics for additional songs that would make the pace of the musical more consistent. He didn't need much persuasion. The contract will be amended accordingly.

This good news made for an enjoyable Christmas. Cecile said she was proud of me, which was nice. After Christmas we went for a meal with Chris and Charity where we surprised them with the news.

The meal was delightful. We hadn't been to the Seaside Restaurant since it was sold to Basil Hazelwood and renamed The Mousehole. The menu had expanded to accommodate his culinary magic, but still had the wonderful sea food available for diners. After the plates had been cleared, Basil came to our table to have a word.

"I wanted to retain the connection with the Seaside Restaurant franchise," he explained. "To do this, I was able to convince Lawrence Seabreeze to keep a token percentage of the place and he agreed to be a sleeping partner. Happily, Caspian Neptune was delighted to stay on as the sea food chef; I can't begin to compete in that area."

"Wins all around," I commented.

"Definitely." He chuckled. "And speaking of good cooking, I should have a chat with your brother. My own brothers tease me sometimes, telling me of Merlin's skill."

Cecile smiled. "He cooked the main dish this Christmas. We all had a pleasant doze afterwards."

Their conversation continued but I was distracted with a memory Basil had prompted.

o 0 O 0 o

I didn't visit Darcy until the new year so I wasn't familiar with his "Life in Mellowdene" writings until he let me look at his computer thingy. I liked his idea about writing stories about the mice community. Darcy has superb memory for detail so he will be able to recall events and conversations accurately enough to convert into stories.

When he spoke of the Hazelwood brothers it renewed the memory that I'd had in the restaurant. I promised myself that I'd have a chat with Merlin to clarify a few points - it could make an interesting story...

o 0 O 0 o