‘Me too, now you mention it,’ said Purvis. ‘Let’s have a look around: maybe JB Undercracker’s got a biscuit tin.’
So they all climbed out of the bag and had a look around. They searched through the cupboards, rummaged amongst the bookshelves, explored under the desk and checked behind each and every one of JB Undercracker’s nick-knacks, photographs and certificates, but there was no biscuit tin.
‘Bother,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘Oh well, I don’t suppose Howard will be much longer,’ said Purvis. ‘We can ask him to take us all for a café lunch before we go back to the office.’
‘But I need something now,’ groaned Mickey Thompson, clutching his tummy. ‘I’m feeling dreadfully faint.’ He staggered dramatically and collapsed against a nearby vase.
‘CAREFUL!’ shouted Purvis, as it toppled.
‘Oh dear,’ said Purvis.
‘I didn’t mean to,’ said Mickey Thompson, unhappily. ‘Do you think JB Underthingy’ll be very upset?’
‘I expect that depends on how fond she was of the vase,’ said Purvis, as they examined the broken pieces.
‘The pattern was pretty,’ said Mickey Thompson, even more unhappily. ‘I’d have been fond of it, if it had been mine.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Purvis. ‘The bits are quite big. We could probably glue them together…’
‘Ooh!’ said Mickey Thompson, brightening.
‘If we had some glue.’
‘Ah,’ said Mickey Thompson, deflating. ‘I don’t remember seeing any when we were going through everything just now.’
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