Hi there, all you Keeping Up Appearances fanfic lovers! I haven't writted anything for AGES (and this was a story that I actually started writing last year before I went back to it) so I'm really happy to be able to share this latest story with you...hope you enjoy reading!

The stars twinkled in the night sky overhead the Bucket household (pronounced Bouquet, thank you very much) where in their bedroom, Hyacinth and Richard lay, sound asleep. Richard was having a very nice dream about owning an ice cream van, and being able to eat as many ice creams as he wanted. Why he was dreaming about this sort of thing, he didn't know, but at least it was an escape from the usual harassment of his daily life. In the dream, he took a bite out of his fifth ice cream and smiled. Everything was so peaceful–

"Oh dear! Richard, what a horrible nightmare I've been having!"

Hyacinth sat up in bed, trembling, and adjusted her pink, flowery nightcap with shaking hands. Turning the bedside lamp on, she glanced over at Richard who showed no sign of movement. "Richard, do wake up!"

"What?" Richard mumbled as he sleepily turned over towards Hyacinth. "Hyacinth, what are you on about?"

"Richard, I've just had the most horrible nightmare!" Hyacinth paused for breath before she spoke. "I dreamed that Mrs Jenkins from down the road had won the first prize for Best-Kept Home, and that I only got a second place!"

Richard stared in puzzlement. "That was the reason you had a nightmare?"

Hyacinth nodded, her expression changing to one of offense. "Why, out of all the Best-Kept Homes in this part of the neighbourhood, did our lovely home only get a second placing?" She shook her head crossly. "You know, there aren't many homes in our area with Royal Doulton china and white slimline telephones with automatic redial."

"But it was only a dream, Hyacinth." Richard mumbled in puzzlement, still half-asleep.

"And to award it to Mrs Jenkins, of all people." Hyacinth ploughed on, oblivious to Richard's previous comment. "She's the one with the large house, spa pool and snobbish manner, the one who lives at number twenty-seven up the road." She tutted. "Of course, I'm not one to make a fuss about the smallest of things, but still, I don't see why her home should have been awarded the first prize. Especially not in a dream."

Richard tried, and failed, to smother a yawn. "Can we talk about it in the morning, Hyacinth?" he mumbled, turning over and shutting his eyes.

Hyacinth tutted at him. "Richard, this is a serious matter, dear! I will not have my lovely home upstaged by a woman who has the barest understanding of how to polish her own silver! I must do something to ensure that my home has the best interior and exterior in the entire neighbourhood!" Her expression became determined as she gazed round the room. "I must find a way to improve and upgrade this household, so that even Mrs Jenkins fancies it a cut above the rest! What do you think, dear?"

No answer came from Richard.

"Richard?"

A loud snore told her that Richard had fallen asleep again.

Tucked comfortably up in bed with morning sunlight streaming through the curtains, Daisy put down the Home and Garden magazine she was reading and slowly looked around the room.

"Onslow?"

The large blanket-covered lump that was her husband stirred slightly. "Mmph?"

"I was just thinking," Daisy said slowly, "what this house would look like if we did it up a bit and made it look nice, like in the Home and Garden magazines." She glanced at the magazine that lay on top of the bedcovers, open to a page showing photos of large, fashionable kitchens. "Make the rooms a bit bigger, so we have more freedom to move round." She paused, and then added, "Maybe then, Father wouldn't keep suffering from claustrophobia attacks every so often."

"Well, who's going to do all this stuff, anyway?" came Onslow's muffled reply. "You can't be too careful, Dais. Get some fancy professional in to do it, next minute they'll be charging extra for free tea and biscuits every hour."

Daisy smiled. "Well, you could do it, couldn't you?"

Onslow slowly raised himself up to stare at Daisy in disbelief. "Me?"

Daisy nodded eagerly. "That's what it's about, Do It Yourself! I find that DIY is one of the great symbols of masculinity." She smiled dreamily as she spoke. "I can imagine you in a builder's outfit wearing boots and a hard hat, striking a confident pose as you measure the width of a doorway, and then lift a ladder over your head with those strong arms, ready to climb up onto the roof and fix something, while showing every sign of bravery." She sighed happily. "It's every woman's dream to have a muscular, good-looking builder as her husband."

Onslow paused as if to consider this statement. "But I don't know if I'm any good at fixing anything, with the exception of cars when they break down. And the television, when the same thing happens."

Before Daisy could open her mouth to answer back, the bedroom door banged open and Rose hurried into the room, dressed in a short, fluffy pink dressing gown with matching slippers.

"What are you two talking about now?" Rose exclaimed, making her way to the window and drawing the curtains back. "It's time the both of you were up! Father needs tending to!"

"Onslow's going to take up DIY." Daisy declared. "He's going to do this house up and make it all nice, like the houses in Home and Garden."

Rose turned round to glance at Onslow, looking at him curiously. "Is Onslow really capable of this sort of thing?"

Onslow looked at Rose, irritated. "Course I can fix things! When the TV broke down last week, I fixed that all right, didn't I?"

Rose raised an eyebrow at him. "All you did was bang the top of it until it stopped going fuzzy."

Onslow ran a hand through his short tuft of hair. "That I can do. But knocking a few walls down left right and centre all for the sake of a bigger room is another matter altogether!"

"Oh, suit yourself." Rose declared, making her way back towards the door. "I should go and tell Father. He'd be very keen to help lend a hand too." With that, she shut the door with a bang.

Daisy leaned over to Onslow, beamed at him and said dreamily, "Don't you wish that we could knock down a few walls together, Onslow?"

Onslow gave an alarmed glance at Daisy, who, inching her way towards him, looked as though she would pounce on him at any moment.

"Come to think of it, maybe I should have a look at what I could fix up." he said gruffly, heaving himself out of bed, and leaving Daisy, with a sigh, to gather up her magazine and follow suit.

The postman looked with dread at Hyacinth's house. Why on earth he had to actually walk up to her door and post the letters through the mail slot was beyond him. But it was really Hyacinth accosting him every single time afterwards that was the real problem. Though he tried to creep away as quietly as he could, she still heard him. The woman has ears like a bat, he thought, treading as softly as he could on the brick paving towards the house. Maybe this time she won't hear me. Just a few more steps. He had reached the door by now. As quietly as he could, he deposited the letters through the mail slot in the door. Now, he thought, to sneak away as quickly and quietly as–

"Have you got anything for me?" The door suddenly opened to the sound of Hyacinth's trilling voice, making the postman jump with fright and nearly fall onto Hyacinth with shock. Staggering upright, he put a hand to his heart. "Goodness, Mrs Bucket–"

A piercing stare from Hyacinth quickly made him remember where he was. "Mrs Bouquet. You, erm, did give me a fright."

Hyacinth smiled at him. "Lovely day, isn't it? I do think my roses look quite becoming against the morning sun, don't you?" The postman jumped as Hyacinth's face came alarmingly close beside his own, forcing him to look at the flowers.

"Oh, yes, certainly, Mrs Bouquet."

She beamed at him –(really, the resemblance to her and the Cheshire Cat is astounding, he thought)– then raised her eyebrows. "Have you got any more letters for me?"

The postman was bewildered. "But I just posted them, didn't I?"

"Ah, but you don't know that." Hyacinth waggled her finger at him. "There may just be one or two more lurking in that bag of yours that you may have missed."

Wanting more than ever to leave the house, the postman shuffled his feet. "No, I made sure I posted all of them. They had the address on them, and everything."

Hyacinth nodded, thought clearly not satisfied. "And were they my usual collection of pure white envelopes, addressed by elegant hand and mailed using first-class stamps?"

The postman suppressed a snort. "This is 1995, Mrs Bouquet. Many companies use computer technology to address their letters now."

Hyacinth's expression became one of distaste as she glared at him. "Dear, dear. I shall attempt to write to these such companies and demand that they employ professional hand-writers in order to address their letters."

"I think that would be very wise, Mrs Buck–Bouquet." The postman began to back away, longing for the safety of anywhere else to post letters.

"And don't forget to tell your superior." Hyacinth called. "I am sure he will take my idea into great consideration."

Shutting the front door, Hyacinth picked up her letters. Bills, bills, a letter from Richard's previous company, and...an advertisement. She wrinkled her nose. Hyacinth did not like advertisements at all. Only the lower classes received them in the mail every morning. Such pieces of luridly coloured paper were not fit to be seen in her household. Especially not ones advertising...a dream home makeover?

Hyacinth's eyes widened. The competition, she read, ended in two days. All Hyacinth had to do for entry was to fill out her details, and write twenty five words on why she should win.

Carefully, as not to crinkle it, she folded up the piece of paper and smiled, before heading off into the living room in search of Richard. "Richard, where are you? I need you to go and look at the outside of the house to see what needs doing."

"What?" Richard stared at her from his chair, his newspaper half-obscuring his face. "What needs doing to the house, Hyacinth?"

"I want you to survey the house from the outside to see what needs to be improved." Hyacinth beamed at him. "This house needs to renovated, elevated and upgraded! We have so much to do, and so little time!" She pulled on Richard's arm, in effort to raise him up from his chair. "I think that we should start with the exterior of the house, and work our way in! That will do very well." She began humming along to, "All Things Bright And Beautiful" as she pulled the newspaper out of Richard's hand and placed it on the coffee table.

"But Hyacinth," Richard began as he was frogmarched to the back door, "why are we renovating our home when it's fine as it is? How will we pay for it all?"

Ignoring the former statement, Hyacinth waved an airy hand. "Oh don't worry about that dear, it will all sort itself out. Now, make yourself useful and go into the garden. And do hurry along!"

Richard slowly made his way into the garden, stepping carefully around Hyacinth's prized hydrangea bushes, and sighed. He couldn't think why Hyacinth seemed determined that she should do something to make sure that their house was a cut above the rest, inside and out. Richard himself wasn't really the type of man who liked getting involved in things like Do It Yourself, but he wasn't about to tell Hyacinth that.

"You seem very contemplative, Richard. Penny for your thoughts?"

Richard turned round at the sound of Emmet's voice. Emmet was standing outside the front door of his house looking at him curiously.

"I'm fine thanks, Emmet." Richard smiled wearily at him. "Hyacinth has got her heart set on doing up the house, inside and out. She says I have to look at it to see what needs doing."

Emmet walked slowly towards Richard. "You poor devil." He glanced at the house then shook his head. "The house doesn't look as thought it needs anything worth doing. Why does she want to do it up?"

"Because," Richard started, then changed his tack. "You know what Hyacinth's like about these things."

Emmet's expression became thoughtful. "Yes. I do." He paused for a moment. "Knowing Hyacinth, you'd have to bulldoze the whole house and build it back up again before she's satisfied."

Richard gave a small chuckle. "You try telling Hyacinth that."

Emmet grimaced. "She'd take me seriously, wouldn't she?"

Richard smiled thinly and nodded. "Yes Emmet, she probably would."

Emmet waved at Richard. "See you round, old chap." Whistling, he headed down the driveway off to work as Richard, with a sigh, turned back towards the house.

Onslow shut the door of the living room with a bang, and ambled over to his favourite chair, the one that was always conveniently placed in front of the TV set. Plumping himself down, he loudly banged the top of the television, and gave a sigh of contentment as the set blared into life. "Well, that's settled, then."

"What's settled?" Daisy, who was sitting on the sofa flicking through a home-design catalogue, raised her head to look at him.

"I've made up my mind." Onslow idly opened a packet of crisps and began to noisily munch on them. "If I'm going to be part of this Do-It-Yourself lark, I may as well do something about it."

Daisy flicked a page. "It seems like the only thing you're capable of doing at the moment is sitting in that chair and stuffing yourself with crisps."

Onslow shrugged. "Good things take time, Dais. And this is one of them." He put another handful of crisps into his mouth.

"Well then," Daisy said, turning back to her catalogue, "I suppose I should tell you now that the roof needs fixing, up by Father's room. Right above his bed. He says that the roof's wearing thin."

"So that explains why the TV reception has been so terrible lately." Onslow swallowed the last of his crisps. "Any more crisps?"

Daisy shook her head. "That was the last packet."

Her husband looked at her, open-mouthed. "How am I supposed to go about fixing the roof if there aren't any more crisps?"

The door to the living room banged open and Rose entered, wearing a white short-sleeved blouse, a yellow cap, and a pair of rather short denim overalls that showed off a lot of leg. Her face, as always, was perfectly made up. Neither Daisy or Onslow looked up.

"How do I look?" Rose moved over to stand by the telephone, twisting around to admire her outfit. "Does this outfit convey the theme of an attractive female who enjoys the trials of hard labour in the building world?"

Onslow raised his head to look at Rose. "The only thing it conveys is that you'd rather be enjoying other sorts of hard labour, and by that I don't mean building things!" He guffawed.

Rose glared. "Oh, bog off, Onslow."

Onslow raised his eyebrows. "Wasn't your last boyfriend a builder?"

"Oh, Mr Smithson?" A smile unfolded over Rose's face. "No, he was a plumber. A lovely plumber. We used to spend many happy hours together in the toilet stalls of the old shops down the high street." She sighed, happily as she remembered. "The the swine, he left me for another woman. Tossed me aside like a piece of old pipe." Her expression hardened. "I don't care if she was his wife!"

Onslow chucked. "I'll tell you this for free, when you went out with that Mr Smithson, I guarantee that he was just desperate to know how to unblock your–"

The noise of tyres screeching loudly from the TV set drowned out the last part of this sentence. Rose, however, was not pleased.

"How can you live with him?" she whined, hurrying to sit down on the sofa beside Daisy, and glaring crossly at Onslow. "I don't see how you can sit there, reading a home-design catalogue, while your husband torments me with the remains of happy memories from the past." She clutched her heart dramatically.

Daisy smiled as she glanced back at her magazine, admiring a page on kitchen designs. "Oh, it's quite easy, really. I just think back to the days right after we got married. It was a lot easier back then, because we didn't even have a television, let alone be able to afford packets of crisps." She sighed as she looked at her husband, who was focused intently on the set. "I can only hope that when Onslow starts doing up our house, he'll start at least watching that home-design show that comes on at 4 o'clock in the afternoons."

"But don't you realise that Onslow has about as much DIY skill as our dog?" Rose complained. "If I were him, I'd be the one insuring the television, just in case I accidentally broke the TV ariel by falling through the roof while trying to fix it."

Evidently, Onslow had heard this remark, for he turned round to Rose and raised an eyebrow. "All right then, you've made your point." With an effort, he stretched his arms above his head. "I can build and fix anything. Just you wait, Dais. I'm going to fix that roof."

Daisy clapped her hands in delight, her face lighting up. "At last! Oh Onslow, you're going to be a proper house husband! This house may be very well mistaken for a palace soon enough!" She paused, as a thought struck her. "But when are you going to start on it all?"

Onslow considered. "Monday. That way, there'll be enough packets of crisps for me to get the energy needed."

And with that, he tossed his empty crisp packet to the floor and turned the volume of the TV right up.

"Do sit down over there, Elizabeth." Hyacinth declared, gesturing to the chairs placed around the table. "I have such news to tell you, all about the renovations that are due to take place on my wonderful home." She beamed at the two of them, placing a cup of coffee each in front of them. "Biscuit?"

Elizabeth carefully took a biscuit, leaving her beaker of coffee untouched on the table. Why she had said yes to yet another cup of coffee round at Hyacinth's, she had no idea. She had tried, of course, to explain that she couldn't come round for coffee, because she was going to go to town. For what reason, she didn't know. But still, Hyacinth insisted she had to come to coffee. And after meekly agreeing to be round in ten minutes, here she was.

"What, erm, exactly are you having done on the house, Hyacinth?" she asked, trying, without success, to lift the beaker up without her hand shaking.

Hyacinth gave a small laugh. "Oh, I expect that I'll sort that out later, after I win the competition. Sugar?"

Elizabeth politely declined, attempting to force enthusiasm into her voice. "Win what competition?"

Hyacinth sat down at the table with her cup of tea. "I have just entered a competition for a dream home makeover!" She gave a tinkling laugh, gesturing around the kitchen. "Truly, my kitchen is fine as it is now, of course, but I do believe that one must sometime have a change of scenery in one's lifetime. Even if the scenery is of one's kitchen interior."

"But Hyacinth, you have a wonderful house." Elizabeth said, attempting to make conversation. "Why the sudden need for a change?"

"You know me, Elizabeth. I've reached that time of my life I've decided that it's time for a change, and what better change to make than to upgrade to my lovely home?" Hyacinth smiled at her neighbour. "I am sure that from the outside, it will be the best-looking in the street!" With a pointed look in Elizabeth's direction, she continued. "Especially when compared to some of the other houses in the area."

Elizabeth's face fell, though she attempted to hide her expression by taking a small bite out of her biscuit, praying she wouldn't drop crumbs everywhere. Meanwhile, Hyacinth continued on."Richard is thrilled with the idea, of course. The two of us are going to go into town later to look at brochures, you know, to get ideas about what we want our house to look like." As Hyacinth lifted her cup to take a sip of coffee, the telephone rang, startling Elizabeth and causing her to drop her biscuit into her beaker full of coffee. Her expression horrified, she attempted to scoop the biscuit out from her cup but with little success.

"I'll just get that, dear, it's probably someone important." Hyacinth called. Picking up the receiver, her loud voice rang through the house. "The Bouquet residence, the lady of the house speaking." Hyacinth's face broke into a smile. "Oh, hello Violet!" She called out to Elizabeth. "It's my sister, Violet, you know, the one with the large house, swimming pool–"

"–and room for a pony." Elizabeth muttered, abandoning her coffee.

"Violet, how are you, dear?" Hyacinth listened intently to the other end of the phone. "It's Bruce? What's he got himself into now?" She paused for a moment, then her expression became surprised. "Joined a protest? But that's wonderful news, Violet! Bruce is standing up for what he believes in, he should be admired for such an honourable act. He is indeed doing his patriotic duty to this country, and you should be supporting him, dear." She listened again on the telephone, puzzled. "What do you mean, it's not that kind of protest? Well, what sort of protest is it?"

When she heard Violet's reply, Hyacinth's eyes grew wide with shock, and she loosened her grip on the receiver. "A protest for men to wear dresses in the streets." She clutched the phone more tightly. "Well I never." Quickly, she darted across to the door of the kitchen and shut it with a loud bang, causing Elizabeth to drop her beaker of coffee onto the floor. Horrified, she could only watch as the coffee slowly stained its way into the rug.

Hyacinth, meanwhile, pressed the phone to her ear and spoke in nearly a whisper. "Now Violet, pull yourself together, dear. The best thing to do is to encourage Bruce's interests elsewhere. Richard does love to potter about in the garden, maybe something similar could do for Bruce. Birdwatching, or something outdoorsy. Men always seem to love the outdoors." Hyacinth held the phone away from her ear, head turned away. "All right Violet, you don't have to shout. Now I really must go dear, Elizabeth is round for coffee." She raised her voice. "You remember Elizabeth, she's the one that always spills the coffee instead of drinking it."

Elizabeth put her face in her hands. This was not going well.

"Goodbye Violet!" Hyacinth put the phone down and opened the door to the kitchen again, stopping when she saw Elizabeth crouched on the rug beside the coffee stain, attempting to mop it up.

"I'm terribly sorry, Hyacinth!" Elizabeth wailed, taking in Hyacinth's expression. "It's just,well–"

"Don't worry dear, these things happen." Hyacinth swooped down on the rug, pulled the cloth from Elizabeth's hand and set to scrubbing the rug with vigour. "I suppose I shall have to look past it as always, even if that rug was handmade and part of a rather expensive interior decorative floor set."

Elizabeth miserably sank down into her chair at the table, while Hyacinth finished mopping up the floor. Then she sat back down at the table. "Now, dear. Do tell me..." She paused for a moment, thinking. "What type of high-class wallpaper do you think will match my polished herringbone wooden flooring in the hallway?"

"I am very much looking forward to looking at the home design brochures, aren't you, Richard?" Hyacinth asked her husband, as Richard drove the two of them to town. "Just think, when we win that competition, our lovely home will become even more of a pleasing sight than it already is." She closed her eyes and smiled, visualizing the neighbours admiring the front of the house while they walked down the street each morning. "Ah, yes. That will teach Mrs Jenkins a thing or two!" She opened her eyes again. "Turn left here, dear."

Richard turned the steering wheel around, and they headed up the rather busy road. "But Hyacinth, what if we don't win the home makeover competition?" He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead. "There must be an awful lot of people who have entered."

Hyacinth gave Richard a pitying look. "Richard, do stop spoiling things, dear. You have such a pessimistic attitude at such exciting times like these." She glanced out of the window and spotted a cyclist. "Watch out for the cyclist."

"I'm watching out for the cyclist." Richard muttered.

Hycainth leaned back in the passenger seat. "I think that we should start, Richard, by repainting and wallpapering the whole house. You said so yourself that it was looking a bit plain."

Richard's eyes widened with shock. "I didn't say that, Hyacinth, all I said was that some of the brickwork on the outside looks a bit worn. It needs fixing, that's all." That was, he thought, the only thing he could come up with after Hyacinth sent him outside to 'survey the house'. Stopping at a red light, he tried, and failed, not to estimate how much everything would cost. That is, if Hyacinth didn't win the competition after all, and they (or rather, Richard himself) would be forking out for the cost of it all.

Hyacinth shook her head. "No, Richard, the house must be fixed up with a nice colour! Something to make it, as they put it, stand out from the crowd." She smiled at the thought of well-dressed officials putting up a 'Best-Kept Home' sign at the front of her house, while all the neighbours stood and clapped. "Turn right in here, dear."

The car pulled up alongside a hardware store in the main street. Hyacinth stepped out of the car and gazed thoughtfully at the front of the store. It wasn't at all bad, she thought, for a hardware shop. It was small, with a tin roof and a blue door, but it looked to be modern enough. From the outside, at least.

"Come along dear. In you go." Hyacinth beckoned to Richard, who obediently followed her into the shop. As Hyacinth stepped inside the door, however, she gazed around her with a mixture of apprehension and distaste. Pots of paint were untidily stacked on a wooden shelf, blue paint was coming off in strips from the walls, and the floor was old and wooden. Hyacinth flinched as a floorboard beneath her creaked loudly. Small samples of carpet were piled in a basket in the corner of the shop, with a sign beside it reading, 'Going Cheap'.

Hyacinth's eyes widened with disapproval. Quickly, she clutched at Richard's arm, causing him to nearly fall onto the floor. "Richard, we have to get out of here. Quickly now, before anyone sees us."

Richard looked confused. "But Hyacinth, you said that you wanted to go shopping for paint, and here we are." He swept his arm around the room.

Hyacinth shook her head and spoke in a near whisper. "I will not associate myself with this sort of shop. It's a very lower-class sort of place to reside in during the day. If my Sheridan were here, he'd be appalled."

"But Hyacinth, it's the only DIY shop that's close enough for us to get to by car." Richard explained, trying to make her see sense even though he knew he wouldn't get that far.

Hyacinth pursed her lips tightly. "I must ask you not to speak those three letters out loud, dear. Especially not in a place like this."

Before Richard could reply, however, a door at the back of the shop opened, and a rather big man emerged, with thinning hair, wearing a T-shirt splattered with paint, jeans and large black boots. He smiled when he saw them. "Hello there, how can I help you?"

"Have you got a brochure?" Hyacinth questioned immediately, eyeing the man warily.

The man looked puzzled. "Yeah, we have plenty of them here." He jabbed a thumb towards a large cupboard at the back of the shop. "Wotcha looking for, then?"

Hyacinth raised her eyebrows in disdain. "Paint." She gipped Richard's arm, who seemed to be looking for a non-existent escape route. "My husband and I are looking to paint the inside of our house, and need a brochure of paint samples. We plan to make great changes to our lovely home, from top to toe!" She glanced around the shop, then added, "I can see you can't have had much experience with that sort of thing."

The man chuckled. "Ah, well, we got all sorts of paint here." He gestured with a big broad hand towards the shelf of paint pots. "Yer'll probably find what you're looking for. I'll come and help if you like, get me?"

"Thank you." Richard made an attempt to move towards the shelf, but was stopped by Hyacinth, who fixed the man with an eagle-eyed stare. "I think you should know that since I have just entered a competition to win a dream home makeover, I insist that you take our names, in case of media attention should we win." She gave him a forced smile. "I do believe this is the sort of event that shall make the news, and you shall want to know who we are in case any reporters arrive here to ask questions." Glancing around the shop, she added, "Not that they are likely to set foot in here, of course, but you never know."

Richard wanted to sink through the floorboards, creaks and all. Mumbling an excuse, he attempted to edge away from the two, but a stare from Hyacinth stopped him. "Richard dear, why don't you go and look over there at paint samples?" She waved a hand, though in an extremely half-hearted manner, towards the crowded shelf of paint pots, before turning her attention back towards the man. "Now, we are Mr and Mrs Bouquet, spelled B-U-C-K-E-T. Make sure you remember that!"

He gave a small chuckle. "Ah, Bucket!"

Hyacinth gave him a look that, had it had the power, would turn him to stone. "Pronounced Bouquet." She sniffed haughtily.

He nodded, though looked slightly confused. "Right, then. Now, if you'd like to come with me then..." As he turned around to head towards the back of the shop, Hyacinth's eyes widened with horror and distaste. Suddenly, she grabbed Richard by the arm, while at the same time speaking in a whisper. "Richard. We must leave, now."

Richard, yanked back by the force of Hyacinth, rubbed his arm and stared at her in bewilderment. "What on earth is wrong, Hyacinth?"

"I will not be seen in such a shop that is not fit for those like us with a high social standard to be seen in. And more importantly, refuses to adhere to a proper dress code." With that, Hyacinth held her other hand in front of her face to block out the unmistakable view of the man's rather large builder's crack, his trousers in danger of sagging downwards even more.

Richard was torn between a desire to either agree with Hyacinth and leave the shop as quickly as possible, or to stay and witness whatever came next. Knowing Hyacinth, whatever the outcome, it wasn't going to be good. He decided that he had better say something.

"Hyacinth," he began, trying to make her see sense, "all we have to do is get a few samples of paint and then we can leave. It won't be too bad."

Hyacinth's hand remained in front of her face. "It will be for us if he doesn't pull his trousers up, Richard! This will not do!" And before Richard could comprehend what was going on, Hyacinth boldly strode forward, grabbed the back of the man's trousers and attempted to pull them up.

"Stop! What are you doing to me?" the man shouted, trying, but not succeeding, to get free. "Help!"

Hyacinth, however, hung on determinedly, pulling the back of the man's trousers upwards. "Richard, come and help me! I will not have this man displaying improper use of trouser in front of us all!"

With an expression of horror on his face, Richard rushed forward, got hold of his wife and tried to pull her away from the man. "Hyacinth, let go of his trousers!"

"Stop it! Someone help!" With one final tug, Hyacinth let go of the man's trousers, stumbling backwards into Richard, but managing not to fall down. Richard, however, clutched at a nearby table stacked with small wooden boxes to steady himself, but lost his balance and fell over, taking the table and its contents down with him.

CRASH!

At the sound of the noise, the man whirled around, grabbing the back of his trousers. He glared first at Hyacinth, who in turn sniffed haughtily at him, and then at Richard, still lying on the floor with the remains of the wooden boxes scattered around him.

With a shaking hand, he pointed at the door. "Get. Out. Now."

It had been two days since the incident at the paint shop, which Richard had tried desperately, although failed, to forget about. To his relief, he hadn't been asked to do anything else regarding the general appearance of the house, and was content enough to spend his time well out of Hyacinth's way. On the downside, Hyacinth was becoming increasingly more agitated with every passing hour, mainly due to not hearing anything about the winner of the home makeover competition.

"Richard, when do you think they will contact us?" Hyacinth asked shrilly, standing beside the telephone as if willing it to ring. "It must be down to their inexperienced communications staff."

Richard sighed. This was the third time today he had been asked this question, followed by a similar statement. "Hyacinth," he began, "we may not have won the competition..." He trailed off at the look on his wife's face.

"All we have to do is wait for the telephone call to declare us the winners." Hyacinth peered at the phone. "The phone is still working, isn't it?" Pushing Richard aside, she picked it up, hearing nothing but the dial tone. Repeatedly, she pushed the hookswitch down multiple times, but nothing changed. "Oh Richard, we may never see the freshly-painted walls and fitted flooring that we've been longing for, after all our efforts!"

"Look, you'll just have to hope for the best and prepare for the worst." Richard added, although he was sure that Hyacinth wasn't listening. "You can't do anything but wait for them to–"

As if on cue, the phone rang. Hyacinth jumped and swiftly reached for the phone, knocking Richard's hovering hand out of the way.

"The Bouquet residence, the lady of the house speaking." Hyacinth listened attentively to the other end. "Yes, this is indeed Hyacinth Bouquet...Oh yes..." She paused for a couple of seconds. "My entry made very interesting reading? Well, that's nice, isn't it?" Her eyebrows raised slightly as she heard the reply. "How exactly?"

Richard crossed his fingers and prepared for the worst.

"I believe I did indeed write, 'I strongly believe that a home such as mine with Royal Doulton china and polished herringbone flooring should be regarded as a suitable candidate, as even with such high-status quality there is always room for improvement." She listened again. "And yes, I do believe that I wrote also, 'It would teach Mrs Jenkins not to be so smug."

Richard put a hand over his eyes in shame. What would happen now, he had no idea.

Suddenly, Hyacinth's face broke into a wide smile. "I have? Oh yes, that is wonderful news!" She continued to nod and smile while Richard watched. "Thank you very much, my husband and I shall eagerly await your arrival!" She replaced the phone in its cradle, beaming.

"I take it that you've won the competition, then?" Richard asked mildly, not knowing whether to be pleased for his wife, or terrified at the thought of what she might do to their house.

"Yes, I have, dear!" Hyacinth swooped down on Richard and planted a big kiss on his cheek. "Oh, what fun it will be when the builders get here!"

Richard decided to choose the latter option. "When are they getting here?" he asked, expecting his wife to give a date a couple of days away.

"Why, later tomorrow!" Hyacinth replied, not noticing the expression of horror that immediately afterwards unfolded on Richard's face. "They're going to do a trial run first, just to see how things go, before they renovate further."

It took all of Richard's willpower not to run away. "But what are they having done to the house? Hyacinth, whatever you do, please don't tell them to knock any walls down!"

Hyacinth turned to him. "Richard, dear, do stop shouting. Of course they won't knock any walls down, they're going to start off by painting the interior of the living room. Which is just what we wanted!" She beckoned to her husband. "Come on, Richard, don't just stand there. We must hurry and decide what shade of paint we want."

"If there really is a God," Richard muttered to himself as he followed Hycinth into the living room, who was beaming and singing away to herself, "please let this renovation business not be a complete disaster..."

Standing on the front step of their house the next day, both Daisy and Rose watched with interest as Onslow carefully leaned a long, wooden ladder against the side of the house. Even the dog seemed to be watching, with its head out the window of the car and tongue hanging out. Stepping back, Onslow straightened his vest and brushed imaginary dust off his hands. "All done."

"You haven't even done anything yet." Rose commented, leaning against the doorframe. "I don't see how you can consider yourself a builder when all you've done is put the ladder up."

Onslow's eyes widened with indignation. "I'll have you know that this sort of thing takes careful thought and consideration." He straightened the ladder, then slowly placed his foot on the bottom rung, which creaked ominously.

"I just hope that that ladder doesn't collapse on you, no matter how much careful thought and consideration you give it." Daisy said, eyeing her husband apprehensively as he slowly made his way upwards, becoming level with Daddy's half-open bedroom window.

"Now where did your father say the problem with the roof was, exactly?" Onslow asked, turning his head to squint down at them.

"I don't know exactly," Daisy replied. "Maybe you could ask him."

"And how am I supposed to do that when I'm stuck halfway up a ladder?"

"Well, tap on his window!" Rose exclaimed, peering up at him. "He's probably in there, sleeping as usual."

"Unless he thinks he's in the war." Daisy said matter-of-factly. "Or he's gone to bother old Mrs Cotswold again."

Onslow banged twice on Daddy's window. "Oi! Where does the roof need fixing?" He listened for a reply, then tapped loudly on the window again. "What's wrong with the roof?"

There was no reply, apart from the swish of the curtains in the breeze.

Onslow sighed. "Well, I can't stay stuck on this ladder all day waiting for your father." Carefully, he began to climb downwards. "Guess I'll have to get building supplies to actually fix the roof, won't I?"

"While you're doing that, I'm going to look for Father." Daisy commented. "I do hope he doesn't think he's in the army again, taking orders from his old colonel."

"And I'm going to phone up Mr Smithson and give him a piece of my mind." Rose added, as the three of them walked back into the house. "That should teach him not to be so cold-hearted!"

None of them, however, noticed the lone figure of Daddy, peering around the corner of the house, before beginning to creep quietly towards the ladder...

"Now, I must ask you all to please take off your shoes." Hyacinth addressed the group of builders on her doorstep, who by now were certain that they had got the wrong house. "I will not have my interior floorings marked by the imprints of dirty footwear."

"But ma'am, it's a matter of safety that we keep 'em on." one of the builders spoke up (rather bravely, Richard thought, who was hiding behind the door). "It's practically the law of renovating."

Hyacinth pursed her lips in disapproval. "Not a very good rule if it requires you to keep your shoes on in such a high-status household like ours." She glanced around at the men, who shuffled from foot to foot like distracted schoolboys. "I must also insist that when you start renovating, you must promise me that you won't get anything dirty." She smiled at them and waggled her finger. "I don't like the thought of my prized Royal Doulton getting covered in dust. I'm sure you can manage that while the renovations are in progress."

The first man looked at his companions with disbelief, before returning his gaze to Hyacinth. "Alright, ma'am, we'll do our best."

"I'm sure you will." She beamed at them, then jumped as the telephone's shrill ring cut through the air. "I'll just get that. It's probably somebody important." With that, she bustled off, leaving Richard to throw an apologetic glance towards the group of men.

"The Bouquet residence, the lady of the house speaking." Hyacinth tinkled, in a loud voice. "Oh Daisy, how are you, dear?"

"Hyacinth, we need help!" Daisy pressed the phone to her ear, tilting her head this way and that to try and see out the window of the living room. "It's Father."

"Daddy? What's wrong with him?" Hyacinth's voice sounded puzzled.

"He's on the roof and won't come down, that's what's wrong with him!" Daisy took a deep breath. "Onslow tried to fix the roof up by his room today and left the ladder against the wall of the house, that's when Father found it. And now he won't come down."

Hyacinth shut her eyes in horror at the image of Onslow going up a ladder without wearing a shirt; even more so at the thought of Daddy on the roof. "How long has Daddy been on the roof for?"

The group of builders outside looked at each other in puzzlement, able to hear every word that Hyacinth said.

"A couple of hours now." Daisy glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it had just gone one o' clock. "He says that he's never felt freer."

Hyacinth's eyes widened as an even more horrifying image came to mind. "All right Daisy, Richard and I will be there in ten minutes." She quickly put the phone down and hurried towards the door, adopting a bright smile, to the confusion of the builders.

"So sorry we can't stay to chat, but my husband and I have some very important business to attend to." Hyacinth put her arm through Richard's and practically dragged him in the direction of the car, ignoring his bewildered expression. "We shall be back later this afternoon, of course."

"Hyacinth," Richard spluttered, thoroughly confused, "what's going on?"

"I will tell you once we're in the car, Richard," she said in a urgent whisper, impatiently watching as her husband fumbled for the passenger door.

"Wait," one of the builders shouted just as Hyacinth was climbing into the car. "Where abouts do you want us to start?"

With the renovations now the last thing on Hyacinth's mind, she floundered for words, speaking much faster in her haste to get to Daisy's. "Erm, just begin with that nice shade of pecan, you know, it was my chosen shade out of all the inferior samples on those paint brochures, and start anywhere you choose! Goodbye!" And with that, the car pulled out onto the road and accelerated down the street, leaving the builders to stare after the car.

"Bloody hell." The builder who had shouted after Hyacinth wiped his arm across his forehead. "She's something else, that's for sure. Don't you reckon, Ted?"

Ted agreed, looking round at his companions. "What shade of paint did she say she wanted? After that lecture she gave us about keeping her china dust-free, my ears auto-tuned her out."

The first man shrugged. "I dunno. Pumpkin, wasn't it?"

"And she said we could start anywhere." Ted replied. "Guess we'll be doing the outside of the house first. As my dad always said, "Start from the outside, then work your way in."

"Reckon we'll be able to keep our shoes on for that?" one of the builders piped up, causing laughter to erupt around the group.

Ted grinned at his companions. "Come on, lads. We've got work to do."

"Hyacinth, how on earth did your father get onto the roof in the first place?" Richard asked, turning left into Daisy and Onslow's road.

Hyacinth stared out the window, and made as if to wipe away a tear. "Poor Daddy. I always knew that his sense of duty would take him to new heights." She paused. "I didn't realise until now that the meaning was literal."

"Yes, but how will you get him off the roof?" Richard steered carefully into their usual parking space at the end of the street before turning the car off. "And more importantly, what made him get up there in the first place?"

Hyacinth turned to glance sternly at him. "Richard, do stop asking questions, dear. I expect we'll find everything out from Daisy and Onslow." She gave one of her famous sighs. "I just hope that Onslow has enough common sense in him to wear a shirt out in the street."

Daisy, Rose and Onslow (sans shirt, as usual) were standing outside the house, gazing up onto the roof. As Hyacinth and Richard approached, the former clutching her handbag, the figure of Daddy was unmistakable. He was standing upright, his arms over his head, waving them slowly back and forth. Something that appeared to be a crown made out of a strip of cardboard was perched on his head.

"Well?" Hyacinth sharply turned to Daisy. "What's going on now? Why is Daddy still up on the roof?"

"I don't know!" Daisy replied. "We've tried to get him down, but he won't listen. He says that being up that high makes him feel like some sort of king."

Hyacinth shaded her eyes to see for herself. "Is that why he appears to be waving his arms about in such a manner?"

"I think he thinks that we're all his subjects." Rose said. "And that somehow, he can command us to do things by waving his arms around."

"I do wish that he'd command you to wear a longer skirt, dear." Hyacinth wrinkled her nose at Roses' choice of skirt height.

"I don't know why you're so upset, Hyacinth." Onslow commented. "Personally, I'd be quite happy to let him stay on the roof!" He chuckled, and Daisy hit him on the arm.

Richard looked up at the stationary figure of Daddy on the roof. "Perhaps someone should actually go up there to get him down." Though he was only attempting to be helpful, he regretted what he'd said as soon as his wife turned to him, eyes bright.

"Oh Richard, that's a very good idea!" Hyacinth gestured to the ladder, still standing against the house. "Well go on then dear, don't just stand there. Up you go."

Richard stared at the ladder, feeling queasy at the thought. "But Hyacinth, I'm not at all good with heights!" He shuddered inwardly as he remembered looking for 'Iron Age Remains' – finding himself stuck halfway up a tree had not been a pleasurable experience.

Hyacinth shook her head at him and glanced round at the rest of her family in desperation.

"Well don't look at me." Daisy stepped backwards. "I'm not planning on going up a ladder anytime soon, even if it is to get Father down."

"Nor me." Rose joined in. "I don't want to ruin my new skirt."

Hyacinth raised an eyebrow at her. "Rose, don't think for one moment that I will let you up a ladder wearing that skirt!"

Onslow sighed heavily, reluctant to say what was now weighing on his mind. "Well...I s'pose that I'll have to be the one to–"

"Don't you dare." Hyacinth pushed her way past him, momentarily terrified by the thought of Onslow venturing up the ladder without a shirt on. After all, someone important that Hyacinth knew might pass by and see. And that, of course, wouldn't do at all.

Daisy, Rose, Onslow and Richard stood back in shocked surprise as they watched Hyacinth tightly grip the ladder, before hauling herself up onto the first rung. Then another. Then another.

"Hyacinth!" Richard called out, afraid that she might fall, "what on earth are you doing?"

"Rescuing Daddy from the perils of a godlike status!" Hyacinth shouted back, teetering slightly on the ladder as she reached the last rung. With her handbag swinging madly on her arm, she slowly pulled herself upwards, bent over slightly in an attempt to keep her balance. "Daddy!"

Daddy stared at the figure before him, vaguely recognising that it was Hyacinth. What on earth was she doing? He stopped waving his arms up and down as suddenly, a new thought drifted into his mind. Perhaps he had somehow passed on his king-like importance down to her, and now she was to take his place?

"Now, Daddy," Hyacinth began, slightly confused as her father began to bow to her repeatedly, "you are to come along down from the roof. Come on." She beckoned to Daddy, who saw this as an order. With one last deep bow to Hyacinth, he took off his cardboard crown and shoved in onto Hyacinth's head, before shuffling forwards towards the ladder. Hyacinth righted the crown, which had previously obscured her vision and brushed loose strands of hair off her face; taking the opportunity to smile down at her family, who had been watching with bated breath.

"There, you see?" She triumphantly glanced down at Daddy, making his way down the ladder rung by rung. "I told you I'd be able to get him off the roof." She suddenly realised that from where she was standing, the ground was rather a long way down. Getting herself of the roof was a different story altogether, but she wasn't about to falter.

"Be careful, Hyacinth," Daisy shouted up to her, "The roof's wearing thin right where you're standing."

Hyacinth took a step forward, beaming down at her sister. "It's fine Daisy dear, don't worry. I'm sure I'll be quite all–"

CRACK!

The area of roof where Hyacinth was standing gave way completely. For a second, Hyacinth's horrified face was visible, her eyes wide with terror, mirroring the expressions of the faces below. Then, with a loud high-pitched screech, she vanished from sight, causing the ladder to fall backwards onto the ground, with Daddy landing on top of Onslow like a couple of human dominoes. Rose clapped her hands over her ears, Daisy put her hands over her eyes, and Richard gasped in shock, his hands over his mouth, as Onslow struggled to get up from under Daddy.

From the gaping hole in the roof, Hyacinth's high voice was clearly heard, though slightly shaky and breathless from her fall. "If my fall through this roof hasn't convinced you to rethink your career as a builder, Onslow, then you should at least concentrate on learning how to wear a shirt in the street!"

Onslow, having now clambered to his feet, rolled his eyes and sighed. "Aw, nice."

It was late afternoon by the time Hyacinth and Richard drove back home. Hyacinth, though unhurt (having landed on Daddy's bed below) had needed a cup of tea to recover from the shock of her fall through the roof. Though Richard did feel sympathetic towards his wife, he also felt relieved to be able to have a nice cup of tea and a conversation with Onslow. Daddy had been put to bed by Daisy, and Rose had been busy clattering about in her high heels, wondering if Mr Smithson would telephone that evening.

"One thing that does cheer me greatly is the though of our lovely home waiting for us with a lovely shade of nut-brown paint amongst the interior." Hyacinth smiled slightly as she looked out of the window and saw their street approaching. "At least this renovation business hasn't all been for nothing. That will give Mrs Jenkins something to talk about!"

Richard pulled into their driveway, then abruptly braked, staring at their house. Or rather, what looked like their house. Then again, he wasn't exactly sure if this really was their house or not...

"Richard dear, what on earth's the matter?" Hyacinth asked, glancing at her husband, having not yet seen what he was looking at. "Why have you stopped the car in the middle of our driveway? It's very lower-class to stop a car in the middle of one's driveway."

Richard cut the engine, not knowing what to do. "Hyacinth–"

Hyacinth tutted at her husband. "What are you on about, Richard? Now come along." Too eager to take a look at her house, she stepped out of the car–and froze. Staring at their house.

The entire outside of their house was painted bright orange.

Hyacinth's eyes widened and she blinked furiously, unable to believe what she was seeing. The group of builders were scattered here and there, all in the process of packing up their gear to go home. Ted, with his back to her, sighed in admiration as he looked at the house. "Now that's a job well done."

A little too well done, Richard thought, hurrying over to his wife, rather alarmed by the sight of their house. Unknown to the two of them, Elizabeth and Emmet were peering out their living room window; the former shocked at Hyacinth's choice of house colour, the latter in fits of laughter.

Ted turned around, spotted them and beamed. "Ah, there you are! Lovely shade of pumpkin all around, just like you said. Reckon it'll need another coat, Mrs Bucket?"

Hyacinth closed her eyes and tightly gripped Richard's arm, speaking through gritted teeth. "Richard, get these builders out of here immediately. I believe that I feel a headache coming on just from looking at this awful shade of colour."

All of a sudden, a rather posh-sounding voice called out from the street. "Oh my word, just look at your house! Rather a bright colour, isn't it? Still, your house seems to carry if off very, erm, nicely."

Hyacinth gazed at the owner of the voice, her face crumpling. Feeling as if she might indeed faint, she buried her face into Richard's shoulder and said, in a muffled voice:

"Thank you very much, Mrs Jenkins."

Well there you have it! Thoughts? Feelings? Hope y'all enjoyed it, will plan to write another story sometime soon (it might be another Keeping Up Appearances one...yet it might not, you'll have to wait and see). Thank you all so much for reading...come on, you know you want to leave a review... XD