Having caused mayhem for Neville Martin Painswick, Mr Tredwell is now visiting his wife, Deirdre, and his new baby twins.

William Tredwell purchased a meagre and overpriced bunch of flowers from an opportunistic vendor outside the hospital entrance then after several unrewarding circuits of the car park, came to rest in a bay marked ‘Staff Only’ saying he’d only be ten minutes and it couldn’t do any harm.

He duly made his way to the maternity ward but Deirdre was not occupying the bed in which he expected to find her.
“Ah, Mr Tredwell, isn’t it?” William turned round to be greeted by an earnest member of staff who didn’t appear to be a nurse. He glanced at the badge on her lapel which read ‘Daphne Paddlewick, Senior Medical Social Worker’.
“We’ve been trying to contact you at home, but your telephone doesn’t seem to be working. Would you like to come into my office?”

The news which Daphne Paddlewick imparted to William Tredwell left him somewhat perplexed. Deirdre had been apprehended at 2 o’clock that morning trying to hail a taxi along Mackerel Boulevard wearing a coat over her night attire. Had it not been for the fact that she was wearing slippers and had a drip tube hanging from her sleeve, she may have got a lot further, but as it was, a very sympathetic police constable returned her to the hospital, despite her pleas to the contrary.
“So you see Mr Tredwell, we will have to keep your wife in for a bit longer in our special unit until we can get her sorted out. Obviously the babies can stay with her, but we think it would be best for all concerned if you gave her a couple of days to settle down. Do you have any questions you’d like to ask me?”
“When can she come home? The freezer needs defrosting and we’ve eaten nearly all the ready meals. I need ironed shirts for my job and I don’t know how the washing machine works. I think the milk needs paying an’ all.” Daphne Paddlewick was prepared to attribute this response to shock, but somewhat icily said, “I think you’ll agree, Mr Tredwell, that it is most important to make sure your wife is well before she can be expected to return to domestic drudgery, don’t you think? And don’t forget the twins….” It would be true to say that William Tredwell was having the utmost difficulty in assimilating the concept of the presence of the twins in his life. Deirdre Tredwell meanwhile was quite unable to come to terms with the concept of the twins and Mr Tredwell in hers.

William Tredwell walked across the hospital car park disconsolately and was just about to get into his car when a tall, thick-necked porter accosted him: “Can’t you read, mate? See those big letters on the floor? They say ‘S T A F F O N L Y’. They don’t say ‘Reserved for lazy gits’. If I see your tatty vehicle here again, I’ll let the air out of your tyres, alright?” William Tredwell nodded his head wearily and opened the car door to be greeted by the nauseating smell of putrefying milk. He slumped into the seat, wound down the window and started the engine.

Tomorrow we return to Hake Hall where preparations begin for Isobel's Germanic entertainment