I stare at Mrs Short Tony in some confusion.
The previous night is surrounded in some haze. I know that there was a raffle up at the Village Pub, and a very nice girl singer, and some beer. But as far as I am concerned it was a sensible and early night.
“Yes,” I affirm with some resolve. “He definitely had them when I left him.”
I would have noticed if he hadn’t, I decide. Plus it was a night of an arctic nature, and there was the odd passing car that would have hooted or something. Mrs Short Tony shakes her head very slowly from side to side.
“Short Tony has lost his trousers,” explains the LTLP to the Toddler, who is wondering what is going on. The Toddler gives everyone a Basil Exposition type look and goes back to her plotting.
“He had them on when we reached our drive,” I recall. “He must have lost them between the bus stop and your house. That’s -” I do a quick mental calculation – “one hundred yards?”
“I’ll go and look for them again.”
“Check the bus shelter,” I offer. “And what about the chicken coop?”
Mrs Short Tony disappears to check the bus shelter and the chicken coop. I think about writing a notice to stick up in the Village Pub, but I would not wish to expose Short Tony to ridicule.
“Are you sure he had them on when you left him?” interrogates the LTLP.
“Yes,” I reply, less sure than I was before.