Duchess and I weren’t expecting to see you again, Chloe,” said Mr Stink. His eyes twinkled at the surprise, despite the rain.
“I am sorry I ran off like that,” said Chloe,
“Don’t worry, you are forgiven,” he chuckled.
Chloe sat down next to him. She gave the Duchess a stroke, and then noticed that the palm of her hand was black. She surreptitiously wiped it on her trousers. Then she shivered, as a raindrop ran down the back of her neck.
“Oh, no, you’re cold!” said Mr Stink. “Shall we take shelter from the rain in a coffee shop establishment?”
“Err…yes, good idea,” said Chloe, not sure if taking someone quite so stinky into an enclosed space really was a good idea. As they walked into the town centre, the rain felt icy, almost becoming hail.
When they arrived at the coffee shop, Chloe peered through the steamed-up glass window. “I don’t think there’s anywhere to sit down,” she said. Unfortunately, the coffee shop was full to bursting with Christmas shoppers, trying to avoid the cruel British weather.
“We can but try,” said Mr Stink, picking up the Duchess and attempting to conceal her under his tweed jacket.
The tramp opened the door for Chloe and she squeezed herself inside. As Mr Stink entered, the pleasing aroma of freshly-brewed coffee keeled over and died. His own special smell replaced it. There was silence for a moment. Then panic.
People started running towards the door, clutching serviettes to their mouths as makeshift gas masks.
“Abandon Starbucks!” screamed a member of staff, and his colleagues immediately stopped making coffees or bagging muffins and ran for their lives.
“It seems to be thinning out a little,” announced Mr Stink.
Soon they were the only ones left in the shop. Maybe smelling this bad has its advantages, thought Chloe. If Mr Stink’s super-smell could empty a coffee shop, what else could it do? Maybe he could clear the local ice rink of skaters so she could have it all to herself? Or they could go to Alton Towers together and not have to queue for a single ride? Better still, she could take him and his smell into school one day, and if he was particularly stinky the headmistress would have to send everyone home and she could have the day off!
“You take a seat here, child,” said Mr Stink. “Now, what would you like to drink?”
“Er…a cappuccino, please,” replied Chloe, trying to sound grown-up.
“I think I’ll have one too.” Mr Stink shuffled behind the counter and started opening tins. “Righty-ho, two cappuccinos coming right up.”
The machines hissed and spat for a few moments, and then Mr Stink pottered back over to the table with two mugs of a dark, unidentifiable liquid. On closer inspection, it appeared to be some kind of black slime, but Chloe was too well brought up to complain and pretended to sip whatever it was that he had concocted for her. She even managed an almost convincing, “Mmm…lovely!”
Mr Stink stirred his solid liquid with a dainty little silver spoon he pulled out from his breast pocket. Chloe stole a glance at it and noticed it was monogrammed, with three little letters delicately engraved on the handle. She tried to get a better look, but he put it away before she could see what the letters were. What could they mean? Or was this simply another item Mr Stink had purloined during his career as a gentleman thief?
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