Have a cuppa with Shirley (or Martin)

My, my but it’s hot today! I don’t know how Martin can be still working out there in all this heat. Come in and rest. They’re saying on the telly that it’s supposed to be 85 tomorrow. We’ll all suffocate, and that’s the truth. Well, now, have you heard that we found our Miss Knytleigh? I believe Mr. Tinsley would have called the police, but didn’t dare to, being afraid that Miss Simmons would think he was acting partial. In the end he found her at Frank’s cottage. She’s moved in with him, hasn't she? Now it’s not my place to say, and I don’t generally meddle in other folks’ business, but she’s no good for him. No better than fairground stock, I reckon. When Miss Ellen was alive there would have been none of these goings on with the staff, but Miss Simmons, she’s a "modern" lady and won’t say a word. Glad she’s lost the competition, is my guess. Anyway, Miss Knytleigh, as calm as you please, told Mr. Tinsley that he needn’t have worried, she was still working and her living arrangements were her own business. The nerve. She was asking Martin and me a load of questions the other evening. I’d just finished cleaning out the dining room, and she sat down as if she owned the place and started in on us (see Conversations in the Dining Room). I don’t know why she doesn’t call on Irene, Mrs. Kent’s niece, and talk to her. She was here all the time as a girl, long before I was, and knew the place inside out. Still, I told her what I could. Now I didn't talk about HER. Well you can't really, can you? She might meet HER, or she might not, but it's not up to me to invite trouble.  Doesn't do anybody good to speak ill of the dead, what with the drowning and all.  She really ought to take a look at Mr. Basil's book.   Wonder why she hasn't...?  Never mind. Now everyone’s in a to-do because Mr. Tinsley’s father arrived for a long visit. Might even stay. I think it’s nice, having family around and all. Where else is the old gentleman to go?He seems quite fond of my cooking...
Ooh, and I've got another plate to sell, American, I think.  Vera brought it back from holiday a few years ago.  I don't have a place for it, so if you want it, bid on it.

Hold on, there’s the kettle. Can I pour you a cuppa?