Bertram, a cabby with a mustache that could rival a walrus, was having a slow Tuesday. Then, Mrs. Higgins, a notorious gossip from number 12, flagged him down. “Bertram, dear boy! To the park, quickly! I’ve just witnessed… something scandalous!”
Bertram, intrigued, pulled away from the curb. “Scandalous, you say, Mrs. Higgins? Spill the tea!”
Mrs. Higgins adjusted her floral hat. “Well, I saw Mr. Fitzwilliam – you know, the bank manager – with a woman! And it wasn’t his wife!”
Bertram raised an eyebrow. Mr. Fitzwilliam, a pillar of the community, caught in a tryst? “Indeed. A rather… large lady, I might add. Quite the departure from Mrs. Fitzwilliam’s, shall we say, petite frame.”
They arrived at the park. Mrs. Higgins pointed with a shaky, gloved hand. “There! Under that oak tree! See for yourself!”
Bertram squinted. Under the oak tree stood Mr. Fitzwilliam. Next to him, a woman, definitely not Mrs. Fitzwilliam. And she was, as Mrs. Higgins noted, generously proportioned. Bertram chuckled. “Well, Mrs. Higgins, you certainly witnessed something!”
He pulled a crumpled notepad from his pocket, preparing to make a quick entry. “So, Mr. Fitzwilliam, unidentified woman… Anything else I should note for posterity?”
Mrs. Higgins gasped. “Bertram! You’re not going to report him, are you? Think of the scandal!”
Bertram winked. “Just taking down details, love. You know, for the rates.” He adjusted his glasses. “Now, where were we? Ah yes. Cabby Witnessed the Wife…of his dreams, apparently, finally learning to fly a kite. It’s a new hobby.”
Mrs. Higgins sputtered, her floral hat nearly taking flight. “A kite?! That’s a kite?!”
Bertram beamed. “Yep! Big ol’ dragon one. Mr. Fitzwilliam always was a bit of a card, wasn’t he? That’ll be six pounds fifty, Mrs. Higgins. And next time, perhaps bring your binoculars!”
