Vernon's eyes narrowed behind his newspaper, but only after flicking up to check the time on the clock on the wall. They could never count on this woman to be on time, not that his expectations were high, or that he had expectations at all, because he'd be the first person to tell you that he didn't. Obviously, those types couldn't be counted on for anything. What's-his-face-Diggle was a few bricks short of a load, though, and this Jones woman was hardly reliable. Healer. Ridiculous. If she even came near his family with that stick of hers or new age crystal ideas, he was going to pack up his family and take a holiday to see Marge.
He missed Marge, too. And Grunnings. He was not particularly happy about turning in his leave of absence, nor did he like having to tell Marge that he'd taken a temporary position in Oviedo, Spain. Dudley was "studying" at an English school there, while he got a new branch of Grunnings running steadily, and the only thing that worked in their favor was that Marge hated the Spaniards. She would not be visiting them any time soon.
"What is it, then?" he grumbled from behind the paper. "Has He-Who-You-Must-Not-Know-Who been offed, then? Head on a pike? Did the boy live?"