Free Anything For a Quiet Life by Michael Gilbert

months.”
    “Six months,” said Mr Grandfield, “for Christ’s sake. My wife will be a raving lunatic long before that. Is there nothing we can do?”
    “If they break the regulations, or make themselves objectionable in some way, an order for their removal could be made.”
    “But suppose they behave themselves. That old witch who calls herself the Queen. She’s seen a copy of the rules. She got them from Pickett.”
    “From Jonas Pickett? Indeed.”
    The way in which Mr Porter said this indicated his opinion of the latest addition to the legal firms in Shackleton.
    “The others seem to regard her as their leader. If she tells them they’ve got to keep the rules, they’ll keep them.”
    “There is another possibility. I do not imagine that these people are particularly wealthy. The offer of a suitable sum of money might induce them to move off somewhere else.”
    “And come back again a month later and look for another payment.”
    “Bribery is essentially deplorable and rarely successful,” agreed Mr Porter, “but I can think of no other solution at the moment.”
    Mr Grandfield refrained from comment on this pronouncement. A further possibility had occurred to him, but it was not one he could discuss with his solicitor.
    As he left the office he remembered that he had promised to buy his wife a dozen eggs, and he made his way along the crowded main street to the big supermarket which had recently opened up on the corner site. Since Mr Grandfield had only the one purchase to make he ignored the trolleys and made his way straight to the grocery counter, where he picked up two cardboard cartons, each containing, according to the label, six eggs, new laid, large size. One of the cartons seemed to be coming apart so he placed it very carefully on top of the other and turned to make his way back to the entrance.
    As he did so two trolleys whizzed past him abreast of each other, one of them nearly running over his foot. He recognised the youths who were propelling them. One was Ben and the other was Billy. Both were grinning.
    “Watch where you’re going,” he growled.
    “Sorry, guvnor,” said Ben. “But it’s those outsize feet of yours.”
    “If we’d known you was here,” said Billy, “we’d have had the floor cleared.”
    An assistant walked up to see what was going on.
    “I advise you,” said Mr Grandfield loudly, “to keep a close eye on this couple, and to check their purchases very carefully.”
    Claire, who was shopping on the other side of the counter said, equally loudly, “And I should advise you to take no notice of such a slanderous and uncalled-for statement. As a senior councillor I should have thought you’d have known better.”
    Mr Grandfield had been turning gradually redder. Now he lost his temper entirely. He said, the words frothing as they came out, “I suppose you’re angling for work. Well let me tell you that if you or your shyster employer choose to start proceedings against me for slander you may find you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.”
    He turned on his heel and made for the door, forgetting, in his fury, that he had to pay for the eggs. The young lady on the pay desk shouted after him, “Excuse me.”
    Mr Grandfield swung round, slipped on the polished floor and came down with a crash. The fragile egg box disintegrated.
     
    “It was a splendid sight,” said Claire. “Eggs everywhere and people rushing up, some to help, but mostly to stare. It was like a bun fight in a Salvation Army hostel.”
    On her return to the office she had found Jonas and Sabrina arguing about a Bill of Sale. They suspended the argument and listened with interest.
    “He’s a silly little man,” said Mrs Mountjoy.
    “He’s more than silly,” said Claire. “He’s vicious. Do you realise he actually accused Mr Pickett of being a shyster?”
    “Did he, though?”
    “In front of a dozen witnesses.”
    “You could found an open and shut action for slander on that,