Chapter 3: Gossip

There is always time for tea.

Amelia Whitcomb smoothed down the front of her periwinkle frock. She took a moment admiring how it matched the tidy little lilac bows on her new shoes. Then she knocked on the door of the house at the end of Wisteria Walk. She just knew her neighbor would love them. It was in fact the first thing the old woman remarked on as she invited Amelia in as usual for tea and biscuits that Friday afternoon.

"Come in! Come in. It's been too long! Why, you've got yourself new shoes—to match that lovely blue dress?"

"All at a bargain, all from the same shop, but bought from two different chaps! Is the kettle on, darling? I'm afraid I'll go on all about it before tea's ready!"

They shared a boisterous chuckle between them, keenly aware of the way their jubilance drew envious gazes from down the lane, and went inside.

Amelia let her hostess sweep her purse and jacket into the familiar corner and sat down amongst comfy cushions. The table as always was spread with an assortment of biscuits and cakes, some piping hot, with space cleared near the center for the tea tray still being fussed over in the kitchen. Amelia took a biscuit before she heard the customary "take one while they're hot!" ring out from further in the house. Eventually her hostess rejoined her with the tea tray. Both ladies made small talk, asking about this and that as they tempered the tea with honey and milk or sugar and lavender cream, taking a biscuit each and nodding politely as they conducted the pleasantries.

"I've only heard bits and pieces about the new lad running around number eight!"

"Well, he's much taller than the last one, and with a finer taste in vests, too—"

"After the last three? She's lucky any have come knocking!"

"And another before the week's out, I'll bet on my best handkerchief!"

"By my word! The things young ladies get up to these days, it's outrageous!"

"It's absurd," Amelia agreed wholeheartedly, letting the chatter wash over her. An orange tabby cat gave her ankles a needy rub and mewled quietly. The smell of tea and cats and the feel of the hand-knitted tawny tea cozies as she took another sip simply set her in a merry mood. Her frazzle-haired neighbor noted her charmed look and insisted on another cup of tea.

"Don't be shy! Don't be shy, my dear! There we go."

"Thank you, Bella, darling," Amelia cooed over the steam of her second cup, "You know my weakness."

"And you know mine! It's been far too long since I had you over last." The older woman took another sip of tea and endeavored not to smile too much over the top of her cup.

"What's the news from down the lane?"

Warmed to her subject, Amelia indulged her neighbor in the latest bit of gossip. "They say the Dursley boy escaped again."

"No!"

"Yes!"

The frazzled woman looked even more frazzled than before, clutching her teacup. Amelia tittered a laugh and waved a hand comfortingly. "Of course, he's fine! The little darling. I wouldn't wonder it was that daft Vernon Dursely left the back yard fence wide open again. He only made it to the front of the lawn when Edward Copeland went out to fetch the mail." Her reassurance didn't seem to comfort the older woman as much as she'd hoped.

"Upon my word! Letting a baby alone in the back garden… Did you say he made it to the front lawn?"

"It's all second hand, of course, I myself wasn't there—but Dehlia Jennings swears he was nearly at the post box!" She took another biscuit at her hostess's prompting. "Strange, though. When my Joseph was his age he couldn't but wiggle about. And he's even smaller than Petunia's son, too. Such a small boy!"

"It's a wonder he wasn't run over by the mail truck," the other woman muttered.

The brunette shook her head, pausing to pout and straighten out her frock again. "I doubt he would have come so far. But isn't it peculiar?"

The old woman leaned forward eagerly. "Isn't what peculiar, hmm?"

"The boy," Amelia speculated over the lip of her tea cup, "The Dursleys are fine folk; Larry's had them over for lunch. Petunia's garden could use a hand and her husband could stand to lose a stone but other than that they're the type straight down the lane." She paused to take a contemplative sip and pursed her lips. "But that boy. He seems to be trying to crawl everywhere! Almost, as if—"

"You know, I was just beginning to wonder the same," the old woman said in confidence over her own cup, "Such odd going-ons at that house. Do you think they treat him well?"

"I couldn't say," Amelia replied with a sigh of regret, "I've never seen them all together. But I will say the stone the husband could afford to lose might do some good for the boy. He'll either be short his whole life or spring up like daisies!"

"He's not Petunia's, the boy?" The old woman pressed.

"A relative," Amelia confirmed, though she recalled saying something similar the last time they'd had tea, "An aunt's son or something. Theirs by blood, but once or twice removed, at least! None of them have such dark hair. Not even Dudley."

"And they let him wander out near the street?"

"It's a crime," Amelia declared, seeing how upset the news had made her neighbor. The gray-haired woman huffed her agreement and excused herself to the kitchen to put on a second kettle.

"Have another biscuit! The yellow ones are the same from last time," she exclaimed when she returned to pour new tea, "Mother's recipe. Been in the family for ages. You must let me know if you like it!"

Amelia smiled and helped herself. The cookies were sweet and tart, delicious!

"Oh, Bell, they're delightful! Will you give the the recipe? Larry would love them after noon-time tea!"

"Do you think? I'll jot it down for you before you leave today, dear."

"Oh, thank you!"

Amelia sighed happily over her new cup and breathed in the soothing scent of chamomile. "You're a dear heart, Bella, spoiling me like this." She sank further into the cushions with a contented hum as her hostess chuckled. A gray cat announced itself, yowling once at the door.

Amelia pursed her lips as her neighbor let the cat out.

"Do you think he'll be safe out there?"

The older woman laughed as she turned around with the tray. "Safe? Why, I'd say my dears know these streets better than anyone in Little Whinging! Old Mr. Tibbles will be back in time for supper; you'll see."

"Well, better yours than mine, with all those snake sightings—"

The brunette sat straight up as her hostess walked right into the edge of the table, nearly upset the entire tea tray.

"Snakes?"

"Oh, Bella! Are your ankles alright? Come, sit! Sit." She got to her feet to help her older neighbor off of hers. The woman looked white as a sheet. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Here, let me pour your tea. It's still hot, mind! There we are. Right as rain! I'm so sorry, darling, I shouldn't have said that."

"But," the older woman nearly stuttered, "snakes, in Surrey!"

"Tosh," Amelia said firmly, "I heard it from Margaret Gibbons; she lives down Magnolia Road, at number two, and besides a terrible gossip she's an awful fibber! I wouldn't worry about your darling pussies."

"Well, if you're sure... yes, I suppose," the older woman agreed reluctantly, and allowed her guest to chatter on about the woman living at number three Privet Drive, something about how her pet fancy rats kept going missing.

Eventually the tea kettle was emptied a second time and Arabella Figg thanked her neighbor for coming to chat, wouldn't she love to come by in two weeks and chat again? Amelia Whitcomb nodded cheerfully, of course, that would be lovely thank-you, and thanked her for the biscuits.

"Be careful on your walk home, Amelia!"

"Of course. Ta for now, Arabella!"

Once her neighbor had turned down the lane, Arabella Figg bustled back to her drawing room, past the Suggestion Solution bubbling over a small fire in the kitchen, past the enchanted spoon ladling out fresh biscuit dough onto a hot pan, and fetched a scroll of parchment and quill. She hurried to finish her report and summoned one of her cats, an inconspicuous calico, and cast a Notice-Me-Not Charm over the letter. To Muggle eyes, the calico cat was barely noticeable, and none would think twice to look at what it carried in its mouth.

"This is for Minnie's eyes only," She murmured, steering the calico out the door with the letter caught carefully in its teeth, "Don't you stop until you find her. To Minerva McGonagall with you! Off you go, now, and straight back here when you're through."

The calico skipped out the door flap, tail held high, and Mrs. Figg spared a worry for the truth in her neighbor's words. But Amelia was fairly reliable insofar as the judgement of Muggle characters.

She sighed, watching her cat disappear into a bush, and paid the matter no more mind.

The calico cat never did come back.

End Chapter 3