Thursday, April 4, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 142.3

He knew, from previous experience the great front door of the manor, eight feet wide, ten feet high and the thickness of a man's thigh, was only ever opened for weddings, funerals and the annual New Year's Manor Party, to which the anyone with a Laverstone postcode and fifty pounds was invited (revellers would vote on the most deserving charity for the proceeds, though for the last two years Christian Voluntary Workers had been runner-up to the Restless Paws Animal Sanctuary, thanks to the lady of the house's openly declared love of cats. He led the way to the western stable yard, where the partial conservatory extension to the servant's kitchen served as the family's main living area.

He paused as they rounded the corner, one arm out to prevent Peters overtaking him. He could see three figures seated around the table, two women and a child. “Who's that, do you reckon?”

The child's Lucy Waterman, Daughter of Harold and heir to the the estate, the woman facing us is--”

Ada Waterman, I know, but who's the one to the left?”

No idea, sir, but guessing from all the black clothes I'd guess an Italian widow. Mother to the deceased gill, maybe?”

No, she died a few years ago in a house fire. Nasty business.”

Then I'm out of guesses, sir. Why don't we ask her? Perhaps she's the mysterious robot controller.”

You make it sound like a Flash Gordon serial.”

A what, sir? Before my time, I think.”

Dr Who, then, in the Patrick Troughton years.”

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