Free Eating Things on Sticks by Anne Fine

couldn’t pick you up,’ said Officer Watkins. ‘I couldn’t get the squad car because Delia needed it to fetch the chips. I told your dad to tell you.’
    â€˜That was a little daft of him,’ hissed Uncle Tristram, ‘to trust that miserable sad sack with any message that might lead to some fun.’
    He must have hissed it just a little too loudly, because Officer Watkins suddenly turned. ‘Who is behind that door?’ he asked suspiciously.
    â€˜No one,’ said Morning Glory. (I think she must have panicked.)
    â€˜Really?’ asked Officer Watkins. ‘Because the other day you did appear to be out and about with’ – he spat the words out quite aggressively – ‘a brand-new boyfriend .’
    â€˜No, I was not,’ said Morning Glory. ‘That was some smoothie-chops estate agent who happened to pop over to value the house before I try to sell it.’
    I looked at Uncle Tristram. Uncle Tristram looked at me.
    Officer Watkins persisted, rather unpleasantly, ‘So what were you doing in his car? Dressed in that nightie?’
    â€˜It was a day dress. And he was simply giving me a lift to my dad’s.’
    â€˜Letting you drive ?’
    â€˜I wasn’t driving. I simply mentioned I was planning to buy a car like his. He was just letting me sit in the driving seat to see how it felt.’
    â€˜At forty miles an hour!’
    â€˜I pressed the wrong thing. Then my foot slipped on the pedal.’
    â€˜I might believe you,’ Officer Watkins offered, ‘if, when I search this house, I find he isn’t here.’
    â€˜He’s not!’ said Morning Glory, sounding desperate.
    â€˜Well, let me look then. Then I’ll believe you, and we can make up and go to the fair together.’
    â€˜We can make up and go to the fair together anyway.’
    I looked at Uncle Tristram again. He looked at me.
    â€˜That sort of settles it,’ I whispered. ‘You are quite definitely second-best.’
    â€˜It does seem that way,’ he admitted ruefully. Then he cheered up. ‘Mind you, there’s always this Delia . . .’
    Inside the kitchen, Officer Watkins was pressing home his advantage. ‘Anyhow, it doesn’t matter what you want. We have two missing persons on this island. One of them is probably already dead, and the other is definitely kidnapped. We’re searching everywhere . And this house is next.’
    He tried to push his way past Morning Glory, who thought to distract him with a kiss. It must have been very long kiss, because it gave us more than enough time to creep back down the hall, and while we were on our way I thought about all of Uncle Tristram’s other hopeless relationships, and all the speeches I had ever heard my mother make to him.
    Then I made this one for her. ‘Listen,’ I whispered sternly. ‘She’s much more in love with him than you are with her. And he loves her back. He even likes her grub. And you and Morning Glory have nothing in common. Nothing. Just think about it. She might even want you to live on this island! So I certainly hope that for once you’re going to be sensible, and do The Right Thing.’
    THE RIGHT THING
    As Officer Watkins burst into the living room a few moments later, Uncle Tristram put out his hand and trilled, ‘Good morning! Allow me to introduce myself. I am Aunt Susan.’
    Morning Glory stared.
    Adjusting his feather hat, Uncle Tristram pressed on in what he clearly took to be an aunt-like fashion.
    â€˜And from the look of you, you are a Man of the Law! Could you,’ he simpered, ‘by any chance, be the delightful PC Tom Watkins of whom we have heard so much from our dear Morn?’

    Now Officer Watkins was looking as startled as Morning Glory.
    Uncle Tristram turned to me. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘is my precious little daughter Titania. Say hello to Officer Watkins, dear.’
    I