Search Results for 'liz'

I don’t really want to write, Elizabeth was thinking, I want to read, just read. And perhaps write a little bit about what I’m reading, or draw a map to illustrate the connections between what I’m reading and what I’m doing. Or what all those others out there that pretend to not be me are doing.

She paused and looked around. Is there anything more perfect than a warm house, full of firewood and full of books? She had just read something about the “beast”, and welcoming the beast. The beast in question was illness, and the author was welcoming the beast because it was an excuse to just read and do nothing else. Elizabeth’s beast the other day was no internet connection, and she had pulled the sofa up to the patio doors to lie in the sun all day, just reading. I’ll lie there every morning, when the sun streams in just so, lying on the sofa and just reading, she thought. But she hadn’t.

But she kept thinking about lying on a sofa reading all day, not just any sofa, but a sofa that was positioned to catch the winter sun through the window. It reminded her of many years ago in a cold climate, (or was it a chapter in a book, a character that had done it? She wasn’t sure, but what was the difference anyway) lying on a sofa all day, a large American one that was longer than she was and wider too and would have had room for several dogs, if she’d had any then, not a short European sofa that cuts off the circulation of the calves that hang over the arm, with no room for dogs. She was sick, she assumed, because she had the house to herself and because she spent the entire day reading a book. She wondered if anyone did that even if they weren’t sick, and somehow doubted it. The book was Bonjour Tristesse, and she never forgot reading that book, although she promptly forgot what the book was about. It was the delicious feeling of lying on a sofa with the winter sun on her face, when beyond the glass window all was frigid and challenging and made the body rigid, despite it’s dazzling white charm.

There was no winter sun shining in today, just rain trickling down the windowpane, cutting through the muddy paw prints from when the dogs looked in. But just seeing the sofa positioned in just the right place to catch the sun was warming, somehow.

“Do you ever wonder what happens to your people when you’re not there, Dan?” Elizabeth asked, still drowsy from spending the morning lolling around on the bed, reading and napping.
“Why, yes, I do” he replied, which surprised Elizabeth somewhat.
“Do you make them do things, and then wonder if they really wanted to do that? Like when you send a blacksmith out to the forest because you need more firewood, do you wonder if he resents that?”
Dan sighed. “I know what you mean.”
Elizabeth had started patting his shoulder kindly when she asked about his people, when he said a few had starved to death because he didn’t provide enough food, or when a tornado flattened his people’s houses.

“Baby? What baby?” asked Liz. “I thought that baby had been dealt with in the last chapter, it seems ages ago. Has anyone been feeding it, do you think? What happens to all the characters when nobody writes about them? Are they glad of it, happy to do what they want? Or are they bored and frustrated at having nothing to do? Do they like being plucked from whatever they were doing once in a blue moon, and flung into an improbable scenario, and then left there, with no way out even imagined yet?”

“You only have to ask,” replied Aunt Idle, pushing the bowl of peanuts over to Liz.

I think I might have over~egged the brûlée again, thought Elizabeth, but was immediately distracted by the rock hard knob end of stollen shoved into a truffle box on the caravan shelf.
This really is the last straw, she exclaimed self righteously.

“Haki, did you find that baby a good home?”

“I left it at the shrine, madam…”

“Please, call me Liz!”

“I left the baby at the Shrine of Our Lady of the Yellow Burden, Liz. It’s a busy shrine, I’m sure someone will pick it up and look after it.”

“Well, perhaps you could pop back and check tomorrow, just in case it’s still there, Haki.”

“I think the thing with shrines, Liz,” Godfrey butted in, “Is not to keep revisiting them.”

“Don’t be daft, Godfrey, people flock to shrines all the time.”

“Precisely,” he replied.

Aunt Idle:

It was good to see the back of them, although it was a shame that Crispin Cornwall ~ alias Godfrey Trueman, I now knew ~ hadn’t paid his bill. I could trace him via Liz, but I wanted to keep a distance. I had two pieces of the Tattler, Trout and Trueman puzzle, but who was Trout? Why did they send me that note made of ripped up maps, and what did Flora have to do with it all? And what were they doing buying up ghost towns?

Of course, considering Liz was involved, it was entirely possible that none of it meant anything at all. Then again, with Liz, one never knew. And I don’t know a thing about Trueman, and less about Trout.

Perhaps there was a clue in room 8.

It was good to be back, and surprisingly pleasant to have Godfrey back. Even more delightful was to see the back of that baby. Arona Haki had taken it off somewhere, to find it a good home, Elizabeth supposed. Finnley was as cranky and taciturn as ever, which was a comfort to Liz after her brief foray into the story.

The people at that dreadful dusty inn would no doubt be disappointed at losing Godfrey as a paying guest, so Elizabeth, feeling relaxed and generous, decided to write a little surprise into the story to mollify them.

Mollify, what lovely word, she mused, mollify, mollify, mollify….

“What’s that you say?” croaked Finnley, “No flies in here.”

“Oh Finnley, dear, do turn your hearing aid up a bit, will you?”

Elizabeth passed the peanuts to Godfrey. “What was Bert? Why do you say that?”

Aunt Idle:

“Don’t look so grim, Idle, we’re not staying,” Liz said, “We only came for a mince pie. We’ll be off in a minute but first I must have a word with Godfrey in private.”

What a relief, I can tell you! “I’ll go and get him, shall I?”

“No, I think I’ll have a word with him in his room, if you don’t mind,” she replied. “I think he has something to show me.”

Curiosity over ruled any shreds left of anxiety, and I had to bite my tongue not to ask straight out, not that she’d have told me. Always full of enigmatic little secrets, she was, always had been. It was never a hundred percent clear if she knew what she was talking about and was very clever, or if she hadn’t got a clue what was going on and was winging it. Anyway, the main thing was that she wasn’t staying long, so if we got through the next half hour without any more confusion ensuing, we’d be laughing. Feeling more inclined towards gracious kindness than previously, I beamed magnanimously at her and politely ushered her down the hall to room 8.

“Mr, er, Cornwall,” I didn’t know whether to call him Godfrey, and decided against it. His bill was in the name Crispin Cornwall, and I wasn’t about to have him flitting off with Liz and her entourage without paying it. “Elizabeth would like a private word, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Bloody Liz Tattler’s the last person I wanted to see,” he said. “Trust her to just happen to land on my secret hideaway.”

My hand flew to my mouth. “Did you say Tattler?”

Arona Haki was trying to dust the celadon tea set without being noticed by Finnley. The cranky old crone hadn’t noticed the maid also hakaly refused to take a plane.
“Rather be devoured by a kiwi flock than leave the land”, she had mumbled when Mam Liz had suggested she could come too. Liz did not insist, she only asked out of what she thought would be kindness.

Aunt Idle:

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t pleased to see her. Not that I don’t like her, I do, but she wreaks havoc whenever she gets one of those impulses to threadcrash. I prefer it when she stays put, and we communicate via the written word, I really do. And today of all days, with a car full of people ~ and a baby!

I asked Finly to take care of the baby, and the twins to look after the old couple, and took Liz by the elbow and steered her firmly into the dining room, and shut the door behind me.

“Don’t tell me, let me guess!” she said. “It was Miss Scarlett with a candelabra in the dining room?”

Had she barged in on the wrong story? I had to do some quick thinking, because if she was in the wrong place, it would be an easy matter to simply redirect her. There may be no need for more direct forceful measures.

“Elizabeth has gone and this is my thread now, so get the fuck out of here, both of you!” said Finnley, who had adamantly refused to go to the Australian outback.

Corrie:

I was offering the plate of mince pies to Mr Cornwall, who had been coaxed out of his room for the first time in ages and was sitting next to the gum tree sapling that Aunt Idle had strung with fairy lights in lieu of a Christmas pine, when they arrived. We were all surprised to hear the taxi hooting outside, that is, except Bert. I heard him mumbling something about “She bloody meant it, the old trout,” but I didn’t remember that until later, with all the commotion at the unexpected guests.

“Here, take the lot,” I said, shoving the mince pies on the old guys lap, as I rushed to the door to see who it was. A tall autocratic looking woman swathed in beige linen garments was climbing out of the front seat of the taxi, with one hand holding the pith helmet on her head and the other hand gesticulating wildly to the others in the back seat. She was ordering the taxi driver to get the luggage out of the boot, and ushering the other occupants out of the car, before flamboyantly spinning around to face the house. With arms outstretched and a big smile she called, “Darlings! We have arrived!”

“Who the fuck it that?” I asked Clove. “Fucked if I know” she replied, adding in a disappointed tone, “Four more old farts, just what we bloody need.”

“And a baby!” I noted.

Clove snorted sarcastically, “Terrific.”

Suddenly a cloud of dust filled the hall and I started to cough. Crispin Cornwall had leaped to his feet, the plate of mince pies crashing to the floor.

“Elizabeth! Do my eyes deceive me, or is it really you?”

“Godfrey, you old coot! What on earth are you doing here, and dressed like that! You really are a hoot!”

“Why is she calling him Godfrey?” asked Prune. “That’s not his name.”

“He obviously lied when he said his name was Crispin Cornwall, Prune. We don’t know a thing about him,” I replied. “Someone had better go and fetch Aunt Idle.”

“Who else is coming? Don’t remind me, I can’t bear it,” Elizabeth said fretfully while Norbert opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish.

“I have an idea!” she announced suddenly, standing up and crushing a mince pie that had rolled under her desk. “Gather round, come on, come on!”

Arona Haki shuffled in with the dustpan and mop, as Finnley blew her nose loudly and wiped the tears from her eyes. Norbert stood silently, waiting.

“It wouldn’t matter WHO came,” Liz paused for effect, “If none of us were here!”

“But we are here, aren’t we,” remarked Finnley. Norbert and Haki murmured in agreement.

“We are now!” replied Liz, “But we could be gone in an hour! We could go and visit my cousin ~ third cousin twice removed, actually ~ in Australia. They have an old inn and it’s sure to be half empty, it’s in the middle of nowhere, and,” she added triumphantly, “It will be lovely and warm there!”

“Blisteringly hot, more like,” muttered Finnley, “And would they like unexpected visitors for Chri, er Kri, er, that date on the calendar?”

“I’m sure they’d be delighted, “ replied Liz, crisply. “Not everyone is as curmudgeonly about Chri, er, Kri, er that date on the calendar as we are. And anyway,” she added, “If I write it into the story that they are delighted, then they will have no option but to be pleased to see us.”

“If you bloody lot are coming to the Flying Fish Inn, I’m buggering off to Mars for the holidays” said Bert.

Elizabeth spun round, saying sharply, “Bert! Get back to your own thread this instant! The bloody cheek of it, thread hopping like that, really!”

Elizabeth suddenly felt overwhelmed with loving kindness, and hugged everyone. “I am so sorry I’m a sourpuss at times, I love you all.”

While everyone was speechless, she continued: “This is indeed a trying and difficult season at times, despite our best efforts to eradicate it from our calendars. The social constructs of cheer and goodwill must never be confused with acquiescing to the pressures of the needy, if the needy resort to emotional blackmail and bullying. Indeed, it is a kindness to all concerned, not least ones own self, to refuse to kowtow simply because of the date on the calendar!”

“Hear! ……Hear!” said Norbert slowly.

“Blimey,” muttered Finnley, while Arona Haki whistled and said “Bloody heel!”

“Waaaahh wahhhha!” cried the cold baby shivering on the patio.

“Oh my god, the fucking baby!” Elizabeth shouted, leaping up and running outside, and accidentally tipping over the sherry bottle and the plate of mince pies.

“Will someone get rid of that old woman with the horrible accent?” hissed Finnley, ungraciously.

“What on earth for? She is doing a splendid job. I must say though, Finnley, just as a side note, it is good to hear you sounding more like your normal ungracious self.”

“I found dust,” muttered Finnley, glaring accusingly at Haki.

Elizabeth look unaccustomedly thoughtful. “Do you think you need a break, Finnley dearest? You really must be exhausted after all the splendid proof reading you have been doing for me this year. Why don’t you go home for a while, on full pay of course.”

Finnley burst into tears. “Where is my home though?” she snuffled. ”I am not good with descriptive details. I just found myself in this stupid story doing your stupid cleaning. And now I have a Bulgarian sister, to boot. And,” she looked witheringly at Elizabeth, “ proofreading is one word”

“Crikey, matey,” said Norbert patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. “Christmas is a killer, in’t? Family coming out of the woodwork like blimmin worms. Keep ya chin up though, eh. Ya can’t be letting things get to ya like this. Ya wouldn’t be able to carry on like this if ya were in bloody China ya know. Like bloody robots they are there. I don’t think they know the meaning of the word feelings over there.” He shook his head in wonder at their philistinism.

“And ya right about that one,” he added quietly, with a conspiratorial raised eyebrow and a slight nod of his head towards Haki.

Elizabeth leapt up and rushed to the bookshelf. “I know what you need! some Lemon Juice! I will pick one at random; they are all absolutely superb.” She opened the very small book and closing her eyes stabbed the page dramatically with her finger.

”Let’s not be overachieving fucks.”

“Wow,” she mouthed, awestruck. After taking a moment to recover herself, she looked sympathetically at Finnley.

“The oracle has done it again. Do you hear that Finnley? You are an overachieving fuck.”

Finnley rolled her eyes.

“Mam, it’s snowing, in the green house”, said Norbert in his a slow monotonous tone, “I can’t work…”
“Bloody heel!” said Arona Haki with that kiwi accent of hers.
It was the first time Liz was afraid of one of her personel, she had the impression the maid’s tongue was trying to force its way out of her mouth for another haka, “Don’t come into Mam’s house with you boots full of huhu dung.” She shoved him off unceremoniously.
Second time Liz was rendered speechless. “Well done, Arona”, she added a bit late.