“Vera, darling,” Iris said to her maid, pointing down at her gin and tonic. “Would you be a dear and get rid of this drink? Brian and I are heading down to the Chicken Coop for dinner.”
Vera was watering the plants. “Yes, Mrs. Carrington.” Vera had a bucket in one hand, a newspaper under her armpit, and took the drink in the other hand. She looked around, shrugged – and dumped the excess ice from the glass into the geranium pot. And then Vera marched into the kitchen.
“What are we going to do about her, Brian? She put my drink in the plant.”
“Good for the plant. Let’s get going.”
Five minutes later Brian had helped Iris into her stole. He jingled his keys.
“We’re off, Vera,” he called out into the kitchen. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Enjoy your evening at the Chicken Co-op,” Vera answered.
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