Acorn Lane -  Afternoon
Only a few buildings remain on Acorn Lane since the mysterious fire of forty years ago. The lilacs flanking the spot where the lane meets the road around the village green have shed a good many leaves onto the cobbled stones of the street. The ruins of the burned buildings are evergrown with withered, dried weeds, and tall oaks loom over the ancient stone wall surrounding the church graveyard. Light breezes from the moors blow across the dry and dusty street. A sweet stillness hangs over the tiny lane, almost melancholy in its chilly solitude. As the afternoon lengthens, activity reaches a peak on the lane. Several town matrons can be seen heading to the tea house for an afternoon's gossip over scones, while a steady stream of villagers make the trek from the lane to the Market Street to finish their day's shopping.

Diva gently closes the front door of Diva's Teas behind her as she steps into Acorn Lane. She  steps out of the teahouse with a rag rug in her hands. She shakes it vigorously.

Thomas is strolling down the lane not paying attention (which is odd as he is near the lair of Diva) and gets a rug snapped in his face.

Diva lets out a pretty little shriek, drops the rug, and puts a hand to her mouth. "Oh, dear!"

Thomas winces at the shriek. "Oh...Mrs...Stedman." Thomas backs up against the side of a building.

Diva says "Tommy-boy, are you all right?"

Tommy-Boy nods and picks up his glasses from the pavement.

Diva seems horrified at what she's done. "Why, I might have put an eye out!"

A pair of women enter the teahouse.

Diva tugs insistently at Tommy-boy's arm. "You should come in and have a lie-down, dear." After a moment, she adds, "My bed upstairs is all made up."

"NO!!!! I'm...I'm quite all right. H...h...how are you Mrs. Stedman?" Thomas stammers.

Diva pouts prettily. "You don't have to shout, dear. At least let puppy-wup give her woof-dog a kiss to make it better." Diva puckers up and stands on tippy toe.

Thomas' eyes widen in terror as the puckered lips approach his face. In an attempt to flee, he trips and crashes into her instead.

Diva holds her nose. "Ow."

Thomas reaches forward to touch her nose then thinks better of it. "Are you all right?"

Diva says "Clumsy woof-dog! Clumsy! I should swat you with a paper!" She dissolves into a fit of giggles.

Thomas looks up and down the street, blushing and coughing as an elderly woman gives the pair a disgusted look.

Diva gives woof-dog a hefty swat on the seat of his trousers with her hand and yells, "Bad woof-dog! Bad!"

Thomas yelps, "Mrs. Stedman! Must you carry on like this in p...public?" he reaches for her hand before she can give his rump another smack.

Diva looks conspiratorial. "You're right. It's so much better indoors." She drags him into the teahouse.

Front Parlour of Diva's Tea House
Diva Stedman has transformed the spacious front rooms of her family's house into a tea parlour, open daily. Brightly appointed with gay muslin curtains and linen tablecloths of a not-too-shabby quality, the teahouse has become the gathering place for many of the village matrons. At this time of day, the teahouse is at its busiest. Women of the town contentedly graze at the offerings from the buffet, and sip their cups of tea. A pot of steaming coffee sits near the comfortable fire, inviting patrons to partake of its contents to combat the chilly temperatures outside. The room is full of tantalizing smells.
Diva does not seem to need the money from her business, for her lavish buffet seems to cost rather more than the few shillings she asks. Rather, she seems to crave a house full of company. Usually her brother Giles, fond of a bit of crumpet, can be found here, flirting with the women of the village.

Diva pins Woof-dog against the door. "Is this better?"

Thomas tumbles into the teahouse as the tiny, yet remarkably strong woman drags him indoors and is abruptly slammed and pinned against the door. He searches for a response that might calm her down but just looks like a carp out of water. "We...we...really need to talk." Afternoon patrons give the lusty pair curious looks.

Diva says, "You're right, Woof-dog, dear. We really need to talk. I cannot keep my passion restrained any longer...we must ask the Vicar to proclaim the banns."

"B...b...banns?" Thomas squeaks out looking into her passion-filled eyes.

Diva pulls herself away from the object of her affection with some difficulty. "I can no longer go on like this...you must make an honest woman of me. Nearly everyone says so."

Several women in the teashop nod vigorously, hanging on to every word.

Thomas nearly gives himself whiplash as he looks over at the ladies. "Honest? But we ha...ha...haven't done anything!"

Several of the women cluck.

Thomas raises his voice. "Well we haven't!"

Diva closes her eyes, pained. "Nothing? Did that afternoon discussing our feelings mean nothing to you?"

"F...f...feelings? I don't even recall proposing!" Thomas looks at Diva and then the ladies.

An audible hush falls across the room. 

"Should sue him for breach of contract, she should."

"After all, everyone knows they're engaged." "As good as breaking her heart!"

Diva clutches her chest. "Perhaps I should...bake some biscuits...."

Thomas instinctively brings his hands up to his face to ward off flying scones.

Diva murmurs to herself, "Whenever I'm upset, I feel like spending time in the kitchen...." She touches a tear away from her eye, and laughs. "But you're just joking with your puppy-wup, Thomas! That's it, you're just joking!" Diva laughs gaily.

Thomas whispers. "Diva...er...Mrs. Stedman...please try to understand...I never meant to hurt your feelings...its just that...its very complicated..." he says, opening himself up to dangerous misinterpretation once more.

Diva claps her loverboy's cheeks in her hands. "Of course you didn't, dear! I forgive you! Naughty naughty woof-dog!" She gives him another swat before running to fetch him some tea.

Thomas slithers into a heap at the door.

Several of the town's matrons still regard Thomas with wary eyes. They whisper to themselves.

Thomas whispers softly, "I'm dead, I'm dead. I'm dead and this is my punishment."

Diva, overhearing the remark, gives Thomas his tea. "Nonsense, dear! It's Darjeeling."

Thomas looks up at the teacup hovering above him from his seated position and decides to get up before he's struck in the back by an incoming patron. He takes the cup. "No...strych...sugar in this is there?

Diva says "Lemon, just like you like, dear!" She remarks over her shoulder, "My little sour lemon puss-face!"

The townswomen digest this information readily.

Actually, it's not, but he doesn't argue with her. Not a Good Thing to argue with Diva and get on her Bad Side. He sits down at a table.

Diva says, "Did you get my present, dear?"

Thomas Attwater slumps into a chair and looks up. Afraid to ask what this little surprise is, his lips move anyway forming the words. "Present? N...no."

Diva looks slightly put out. She pretends to pout. "Don't oo pwetend with oor widdle Godiva-wiva! The little sachets of lavender sewn into pink heart-shaped sacks with the words 'I wuv oo my secwet fiance!' on them."

Thomas sprays the table with a mouthful of tea.

Thomas coughs noisily, gasping for breath. "No...nope...never got such a thing in the post!"

Diva says, "I had Oswald bring them around. She sighs. "Dear boy. He takes a great interest in our well-being, you know." She smiles. "When you laid your head down on your pillow at the end of the day, I wanted you smell the lavender and think of me."

Thomas covers his face in his hands. "How can I not Diva, how can I not?"

Diva looks touched. "Why Thomas! That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me!"

Thomas peeks out from between his fingers. "Thank you."

Diva leans over. "You see, Olive. And you said he was a dirty scruff-necked ne'er-do-well."

Mrs. Belsworth shrugs.

Thomas's eyes flicker over to Mrs. Belsworth and back to his "betrothed". "She's right Diva. You could do better. I'm just a farrier. You could do much much better."

Thomas holds up his hands. "And look. Dirt."

Diva, slightly teary-eyed, reaches out for Thomas' dirty hand. "You know what they say, dear. The first marriage for money. The second marriage for love." She daubs at her tear ducts.

Thomas watches as a tear spatters on his hand. "I..never heard of that. Sure you haven't got that wrong? Think about your financial security D...Mrs. Stedman...I can't give you any of the fine things in life." Please let her be motivated by greed!

Diva says "Oh, Thomas, Thomas, Thomas. Thomas! Thomas, Thomas. You can give me just what I need...a bit of a cuddle and someone to rub my bunions on a cold winter's night!" She stands up. "But enough...we mustn't torture ourselves with these happy thoughts."

Thomas is deep in thought on that statement. What man does not have such wicked fantasies?

Diva says "Until tomorrow, sweet prince!" She bites a finger and runs into the kitchen, looking romantic.

Like Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, Thomas watches his Ophelia trot off to the kitchen leaving him to ponder his fate as he looks down at a butter knife. Too blunt.

[  The End  ]