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  • in reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg #6323
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “Watch where you are going, Child!”  Egbert’s tone was sharp.

    “Excuse me,” said Maryechka, hunching her shoulders and making herself small as a mouse so she could squeeze past Egbert’s oversized suitcase.

    “To be fair, Old Man,” said Olga, glad of the excuse to pause, “you are taking up all the available space on the stairs with those bags.” She peered at Maryechka. “You are Obadiah’s girl aren’t you?”

    Maryechka nodded shyly. “He’s my grandpa.” She frowned at the suitcases.  “Are you going on holiday?”

    “Never you mind that,” said Egbert. “You run along and see your Grandpa.”

    Maryechka ducked past the bag and ran up the steps.

    “Oy,” said Olga. “What I wouldn’t give for the agility of youth again.” Gripping the wooden hand rail, she stretched out her ankle and grimaced.

    “Obadiah is stubborn as a mule,” said Egbert. “I tried warning him! He said he’d die in his room if it came to it.”

    “Pfft,” said Olga. “That one will land on his big stinking feet. And he can hear better than he lets on. Is it him spreading the tales about me?”

    Egbert dropped his bags and sat heavily on the step. He put his head in his hands and groaned. “Is it right though, Olga? Is it right that we leave our friends to their fate?”

    It occurred to Olga that Egbert may be hiding his head so as not to answer her question. However, realising his mental state was fragile, she thought it prudent to keep to the matter at hand. It will keep, she thought.

    “Obadiah and myself, we grew up together,” continued Egbert with what sounded like a sob.  “We worked together on the farm as young men.” He raised his head and glared at Olga. “How can you expect me to leave him without a word of farewell? Have you no heart?”

    in reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg #6318
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “You’d better sit down,” said Olga gesturing to the end of her bed. As a rule, she did not have visitors so she saw no need to clutter up the available space in her tiny room with an extra chair. A large proportion of her life was spent in her armchair and she was content that way. While Egbert perched on the end of the bed, she lowered herself into the soft and familiar confines of her armchair and felt instantly soothed. It was true, sometimes she felt a tinge of regret when she considered how disappointed her younger self would be to see her now. But she hadn’t lived through what I’ve lived through so she can mind her own damn business,” she thought.

    “It is just a story, twisted in the telling I expect.” Olga knew her voice held no conviction.

    Egbert opened his mouth as though to speak. Closed it again.

    “You look like a fish,” said Olga folding her arms.

    “They say you and the Mayor go back a long way. Are you telling me that is not true?

    “And what if we do?”

    “You know he is Ursula’s uncle and a very powerful man. They say even the great president Voldomeer Zumbaskee holds him in great regard. They say …”

    “Pfft! They say!” snapped Olga. “Who are these chattering fools you listen to, Egbert Gofindlevsky?  I’d rather end up on the streets than ask a favour from that mountebank.”

    Egbert jumped up from the bed and shook a fist at her. “And end up on the streets you will, Olga Herringbonevsky, along with the rest of us. You really want that on  your conscience?”

    in reply to: The Sexy Wooden Leg #6317
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    The sharp rat-a-tat on the door startled Olga Herringbonevsky. The initial surprise quickly turned to annoyance. It was 11am and she wasn’t expecting a knock on the door at 11am. At 10am she expected a knock. It would be Larysa with the lukewarm cup of tea and a stale biscuit. Sometimes Olga complained about it and Larysa would say, Well you’re on the third floor so what do you expect? And she’d look cross and pour the tea so some of it slopped into the saucer. So the biscuits go stale on the way up do they? Olga would mutter. At 10:30am Larysa would return to collect the cup and saucer. I can’t do this much longer, she’d say. I’m not young any more and all these damn stairs. She’d been saying that for as long as Olga could remember.

    For a moment, Olga contemplated ignoring the intrusion but the knocking started up again, this time accompanied by someone shouting her name.

    With a very loud sigh, she put her book on the side table, face down so she would not lose her place for it was a most enjoyable whodunit, and hauled herself up from the chair. Her ankle was not good since she’d gone over on it the other day and Olga was in a very poor mood by the time she reached the door.

    “Yes?” She glowered at Egbert.

    “Have you seen this?” Egbert was waving a piece of paper at her.

    “No,” Olga started to close the door.

    “Olga stop!” Egbert’s face had reddened and Olga wondered if he might cry. Again, he waved the piece of paper in her face and then let his hand fall defeated to his side. “Olga, it’s bad news. You should have got a letter .”

    Olga glanced at the pile of unopened letters on her dresser. It was never good news. She couldn’t be bothered with letters any more.

    “Well, Egbert, I suppose you’d better come in”.

    “That Ursula has a heart of steel,” said Olga when she’d heard the news.

    “Pfft,” said Egbert. “She has no heart. This place has always been about money for her.”

    “It’s bad times, Egbert. Bad times.”

    Egbert nodded. “It is, Olga. But there must be something we can do.” He pursed his lips and Olga noticed that he would not meet her eyes.

    “What? Spit it out, Old Man.”

    He looked at her briefly before his eyes slid back to the dirty grey carpet. “I have heard stories, Olga. That you are … well connected. That you know people.”

    Olga noticed that it had become difficult to breathe. Seeing Egbert looking at her with concern, she made an effort to steady herself. She took an extra big gasp of air and pointed to the book face-down on the side table. “That is a very good book I am reading. You may borrow it when I have finished.”

    Egbert nodded. “Thank you.” he said and they both stared at the book.

    “It was a long time ago, Egbert. And no business of anyone else.” Olga  knew her voice was sharp but not sharp enough it seemed as Egbert was not done yet with all his prying words.

    “Olga, you said it yourself. These are bad times. And desperate measures are needed or we will all perish.” Now he looked her in the eyes. “Old woman, swallow your pride. You must save yourself and all of us here.”

    in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #6292
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    The door flung open. It was Finnley. “Here I am! I was drugged when I tried to put a bug under the rug. Someone hit me on the head with a mug and lured me to a secret location. Fortunately I charmed my way free with a hug.”

    “Thank goodness the situation have been explained property,”  said Liz. “I couldn’t understand a word Fanella was saying.”

    in reply to: Newsreel from the Rim of the Realm #6207
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “I was ‘anging onto his bloody arm for dear life and the strangest thing you will never believe ….” Glor paused dramatically.

    “Go on then, Glor! Don’t leave us ‘anging now!” said Sha. “We’re all agog, we are.”

    “Don’t be such a bloody tease, Glor!” snapped Mavis.

    “If yer will both ‘ush, I’ll tell ya.” Glor folded her arms and looked at her friends sternly. “His arm didn’t feel right. It felt like one of them dolls they put in shops with the fancy clothes on. Wot do you call them?”

    “Wot yer on about, Sha? Youse feeling alright?” Mavis slapped a hand to Glor’s forehead. “A bit ‘ot. Might be the bloody stress got to you. All this escaping nonsense that Sophie is on about. She’s lost ‘er marbles an all if yer ask me. Mind, she must be bloody ninety if she’s a day.”

    Glor heaved a loud sigh. Why did she always have to be the brains? “Have you numskuttles ever thought to yerselves that Mr Andrew Anderson is a bit too bloody bootiful? That it ain’t natural?”

    Before the others could answer, a loud siren shrieked followed by the doctor’s voice. “EMERGENCY. ASSEMBLE IN THE HALL. I REPEAT. EVERYONE MUST GO WITH HASTE TO THE HALL YOUR LIFE DEPENDS UPON IT.

    in reply to: Newsreel from the Rim of the Realm #6205
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “Ladies! what are youse all whispering about, eh?”

    So engrossed were they in hatching escape  plans—although Mavis and Sha were not at all convinced it was a good idea but both agreed it was wise to humour Glor when she got one of her “bloody brainwaves” —they  had not seen Mr Andrew Anderson approach. The ladies jumped guiltily apart from their whispering huddle.

    “Oh, hello Mr Anderson!” Sha said brightly. She beamed at him, flicking back a stray piece of hair and wishing she had thought to wear her lippy.

    “How many times, Sha? It’s Andrew” He winked at them. “What are you gals plotting, eh?” His eyes narrowed playfully.

    “I can assure you we aren’t plotting anything,” replied Sophie sternly. “I’m Sophie by the way. I don’t think we’ve met?” She flung her hand towards him.

    “I haven’t had the pleasure, Sophie,” said Andrew, shaking Sophie’s hand. He frowned. “Are you new here?”

    “I just arrived yesterday. So excited of course to do the erm … treatments. What about you? To be honest, you don’t look like you need any beauty treatments.”

    Andrew grinned. “You sure know how to make a fellow feel good, Sophie. Nah, I’m just here to meet up with me mates who live here.” He gestured with his head in the direction of the sea. “Got here a few days ago on my yacht.  Take youse out for a spin if you fancy.”

    Before Sophie could answer, a loud cry made them turn. It was Berenice, her face red and frantic as she jogged towards them.

    “Ladies! Ladies! you are late for your treatment. Make haste please!” She turned to Andrew. “You’ll need to leave now, Mr Anderson,” she said sharply. “This is private property.”

    in reply to: Newsreel from the Rim of the Realm #6203
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “Pssst”

    Glor startled. She’d been watching Mavis and Shar through the day-room window. Against her advice, they had joined the outdoor CryoChi class and it really was a hoot watching them gyrating around. All of a sudden though, like a bloody sign, there was a butterfly! Landed on the window ledge and then bumped against the glass like it were trying to get in. Most peculiar. Anyway it had got her thinking about how she was a bit like a butterfly herself. And how she was going to flit around showing off her fine new face. Soon as she got out of here anyway.

    “Wot are you pissting about? Gave me a fright you did!” Glor frowned. “I was doing me meditations.”

    “Sorry,” said Sophie.

    Sophie, ain’t it? You’re new here?”

    Sophie nodded and looked so downcast that Glor softened.

    “Well don’t you worry. A few beauty treatments and you’ll scrub up alright.” She paused, wondering if there was a kindly way of mentioning the latex. “And maybe a brand new outfit to go with the new face!” It didn’t seem to cheer Sophie up any and Glor sighed. “What were you pissting about anyway, Sophie?”

    Sophie looked nervously over her shoulder. “I’m here against my will. In fact, I don’t even know where I am.”

    Glor cocked her head. “Speak up, Sophie.”

    “I said I’m here against my will!”

    Glor nodded. “Hubby book you in did he? My first were always threatening to do that if I didn’t tidy myself up. Bastard. He’ll be sorry now though.” She smiled, thinking of the butterfly.

    in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #6200
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “Clean it up yourself,” snarled Finnley throwing a piece of bhum bottle towards Liz. “You were the one what knocked it over.” She glared menacingly at Liz who  jumped behind the philodendron plant in alarm.

    Finnley you are looking very ferocious … whatever is wrong?”

    “I am not going to waste my life cleaning up after you!” Finnley tilted her chin defiantly. “I have aspirations, Madam.”

    “But Finnley, cleaning is what I pay you to do.” Liz shook her head in bewilderment at the girl’s audacity. “We all have our gifts. I was blessed with the gift of writing. Roberto is visually fetching and potters in the garden. Godfrey … well I don’t know what he does but it could be something to do with peanuts—I must ask one day. And you, Finnley, you clean. It’s your vocation in life.”

    Finnley beamed. “Vacation! now you’re talking, Madam! Where shall we go?”

    “Vacation! I suppose you’ve heard of glowvid?” Liz waved her right hand at Finnley and then held the palm to her up to her face and considered it carefully. “Look, Finnley! The glow has all but gone.”

    in reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler #6198
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “You were listening, Finnley!” said Liz barely able to hide her surprise. It had been a long time since anyone had listened to her. Godfrey said it was because she mostly talked nonsense. He’d smiled kindly and handed her a doughnut to soften the harsh words, but it had stung nonetheless.

    Finnley rolled her eyes. “I told you already, I’ve turned over a new leaf. Since my brush with … ” She lowered her voice dramatically as her eyes slid around the room. “… death.”

    “Death! Oh, you really are ridiculous and very dramatic, Finnley. And why are you squinting like that? It’s most unattractive.” Liz paused. Should she mention the hair? Finnley could be so sensitive about her appearance. Oh dear lord, now the silly girl is crying!

    “I’m sorry, Madam. I’m sorry for all the times I haven’t listened to you in your numerous times of need.” Finnley gasped for air through her sobs as Liz flung a philodendron leaf at her.

    “Speaking of leaves, you can wipe your nose with that. Now, Finnley, I always say, it does no good to cry over milk which has been spilled. The question is, where to from here?”

    in reply to: Twists and One Return From the Time Capsule #6195
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Sometimes Bob spoke without his lips. Telepathy is what Jane liked to call it. It’s just thinking that other people can hear, apparently.

    Bob could hear Jane thinking now and she didn’t sound too pleased. “What’s she doing here?” she hissed in his head.

    Jane and Julienne never got on. Well, they used to years ago. Then something happened. Something to do with a fruit cake recipe … Bob could never understand the ins and outs of it. They hadn’t spoken much after that. Jane called Julienne the town gossip.

    “That’s very thoughtful of you,” said Bob reaching out for the offshoots.Goodness knows what he was going to do with them. It was Jane who was the gardener.

    Clara smirked. “I’ll go and see if Nora is up.”

    “No, she’s alright,” said Bob sharply. “You stay here. She’ll just be resting up now. It’s all been quite a shock for her I think.”

    “What’s all this?” asked Julienne. “Someone’s had a shock?”

    in reply to: The Whale’s Diaries Collection #6194
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Did I hear you ask: what is a framework knitter?

    It was William Lee from Calverton in Nottingham who invented the first knitting frame. In 1598, or thereabouts. This made it about 100 times faster than knitting by hand.

    Bad luck for old William though. Queen Elizabeth I refused to grant him a patent for his invention. Maybe because she thought the new fangled invention would take work away from hand knitters.

    William took the design to try his luck in France but alas he had no better luck. It is said that William died a penniless man. His brother fared better. He took the design back to Britain and the framwork knitting trade took off.

    It was hard work being a framework knitter. The work was tough and the hours were long.

    in reply to: Twists and One Return From the Time Capsule #6186
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Will didn’t like unexpected visitors. What kind of people turned up unannounced nowadays? He was tempted to ignore the knocking but then it is the not knowing that’s the killer. And what if someone gets it in their head to nose around the property?

    “Yep?” he said opening the door. The pair of them were starting off down the front steps as though they meant to go exploring. He’d been right to answer.

    “Oh, you are here!” said the girl, turning towards him with a bright smile. “Sorry to just turn up like this …”

    Will gave her a curt nod and she faltered a little.

    “Uh, my name is Clara and this is my grandfather, Bob, and we are hoping you can help us … “

    The old fellow with her, Bob, was staring hard at Will. He looked familiar but Will couldn’t quite place him … he wasn’t local. And he certainly didn’t recognise the girl—very pretty; he would definitely have remembered her.

    “Have we met somewhere, Bob?” Will asked.

    in reply to: Twists and One Return From the Time Capsule #6184
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Clara had an uneasy feeling which, try as she might, she could not shake it off. She attempted to distract herself by making a sandwich for lunch, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. She went outside to look for Bob, eventually finding him chatting away to himself out in the orchard. It sounded like he was arguing with someone.

    “Grandpa?”

    Bob jumped. “Didn’t see you there, Clara!” He laughed shakily. “What are you doing sneaking up on me like that? It’s not good for me old heart.”

    “Grandpa, I need to go and find Nora. I’ve got a bad feeling, like she’s in some sort of trouble.”

    “Go and find her? Do you know where she is then? Has she been in touch?”

    “I need to go to the Village. Where the statue man lives.”

    “Well you’re not going by yourself. Not with all these strange goings ons and the numerous bits of paper and maps and whatnot which keep turning up all over the place.”

    in reply to: Twists and One Return From the Time Capsule #6181
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Nora remembered something. Now that she had remembered, it seemed rather odd that she had forgotten in the first place. “Will, I don’t suppose you’ve seen my phone?”

    Will continued to gaze into the distance. “Your phone? No, I haven’t seen it.”

    “I don’t know where it is … ”

    Now he looked at her, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Nora, you don’t need a phone up here. Look at all this beauty!” A violent sweep of his arm made Nora take a step back.

    “It’s beautiful,” she stuttered.

    Will’s expression softened. “I’m glad you can see it, Nora.”

    in reply to: Twists and One Return From the Time Capsule #6177
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “Grandpa, I can’t get hold of Nora. I keep getting her answer phone.” Clara flicked back through her texts. “Last time she messaged me was to ask if I knew anyone in the Village she could stay with. And I never got back with the details like I was supposed to … I got distracted by Van Gogh going missing and everything … ” She screwed up her face. “Also I couldn’t recall the man’s name.”

    “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” said Bob soothingly, reaching out to pat Clara’s hand.  “She always were a bit unreliable that one, weren’t she?”

    Clara looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Grandpa, I’m such an idiot! What if something bad has happened to her?

    in reply to: Twists and One Return From the Time Capsule #6175
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “”Sorry, I’m only just telling you this about the note now, lovie. Your Grandma’s been on at me to tell you. Just in my thoughts I mean!” he added quickly.

    Jane smirked and tapped her forehead. “Careful, Old Man. She’ll think you’ve completely lost it!”

    Clara stared at him, a small frown creasing her brow. “So, the note said you were to call him?”

    Bob nodded uneasily. Clara had that look on her face. The one that means she aren’t happy with the way things are proceeding.

    “And then what?” asked Clara slowly.

    “I dunno.” Bob shrugged. “Guess they’d bury it again? They was pretty clear they didn’t want it found. Now, how about I put the kettle on?” Bob stood quickly and began to busy himself filling the jug with water from the tap.

    Clara shook her head firmly. “No.”

    “No to a cup of tea?”

    “No we can’t call this man.”

    “I don’t know Clara. It’s getting odd it is. Strangers leaving maps in collars and whatnot. It’s not right.”

    “Well, I agree it needs further investigation. But we can’t call him … not without knowing why and what’s in it.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “I’ll try and get hold of Nora again.”

    in reply to: Twists and One Return From the Time Capsule #6174
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Clara breathed a sigh of relief when she saw VanGogh running towards her; in the moonlight he looked like a pale ghost.

    “Where’ve you been eh?” she asked as he nuzzled her excitedly. She crouched down to pat him. “And what’s this?” A piece of paper folded into quarters had been tucked into VanGogh’s collar. Clara stood upright and looked uneasily around the garden; a small wind made the leaves rustle and the deep shadows stirred. Clara shivered.

    “Clara?” called Bob from the door.

    “It’s okay Grandpa, I found him. We’re coming in now.”

    In the warm light of the kitchen, Clara showed Bob the piece of paper. “It’s a map, but I don’t know those place names.”

    “And it was stuffed into his collar you say?” Bob frowned. “That’s very strange indeed. Who’d of done that?”

    Clara shook her head. “It wasn’t Mr Willets because I saw him drive off. But why didn’t VanGogh bark? He always barks when someone comes on the property.”

    “You really should tell her about the note,” said Jane. She was perched on the kitchen bench. VanGogh pricked his ears up and wagged his tail as he looked towards her. Bob couldn’t figure out if the dog could see Jane or just somehow sensed her there. He nodded.

    “What?” asked Clara.

    “There’s something I should tell you, Clara. It’s about that box you found.”

    in reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage #6168
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    The wardrobe was sitting solidly in the middle of the office, exactly where they had left it.

    Or was it?

    “I was expecting a room full of middle-aged ladies,” said Star, her voice troubled. She frowned at the wardrobe. “Has it moved a little do you think? I’m sure it was closer to the window before. Or was it smaller. There’s something different about it …”

    “Maybe they are inside,” whispered Tara.

    “What! All of them?” Star sniggered nervously.

    “We should check.” But Tara didn’t move— she felt an odd reluctance to approach the wardrobe. “You check, Star.”

    Star shook her head. “Where’s Rosamund? Checking wardrobes for middle-aged drug mules is the sort of job she should be doing.”

    “Are you looking for me?” asked a soft voice from the doorway. Tara and Star spun round.

    “Good grief!” exclaimed Tara. “Rosamund! What are you wearing?”

    Rosamund was dressed in a silky yellow thing that floated to her ankles. Her feet were bare and her long hair, usually worn loose, was now neatly plaited. Encircling the top of her head was a daisy chain. She smiled gently at Star and Tara. “Peace, my friends.” Dozens of gold bracelets jangled as she extended her hands to them. “Come, my dear friends, let us partake of carrot juice together.”

    in reply to: Twists and One Return From the Time Capsule #6167
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “Box?” said Bob placing a hand on his chest. “Not the … ”

    “Not box, Grandpa. Crops.” Clara spoke loudly. Poor old Grandpa must be going a bit deaf as well—he’d gone downhill since Grandma died. “His dogs got into your garden and dug up the crops. He says he’ll come by in the morning and fix up the damage. ”

    “No, need to shout, Clara. I swear you said box. I thought you meant the box in the garage.”

    “Oh, no that would be awful!” Clara shuddered at the thought of anything happening to her precious treasure. “Maybe we should bring the box inside, Grandpa? Make sure it’s safe.”

    Bob sighed. Last thing he wanted was the damn box inside the house. But Clara had that look on her face, the one that means she’s made up her mind. He glanced around, wondering where they could put it so it was out of the way.

    “Hey!” exclaimed Clara. “Where’s VanGogh gone? Did he sneak outside when Mr Willets came.” She went to the door and peered out into the darkness. “VanGogh! Here, Boy!” she shouted. “VanGogh!”

    in reply to: Twists and One Return From the Time Capsule #6165
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “Knock, knock! Dinner’s ready!” Clara popped her head around the door to Bob’s room. “What are you doing?” she asked as Bob started and hurriedly put his hand over a small piece of paper.

    “Er, nothing, just …” His words trailed off. He smiled brightly at her. “Dinner eh. Smells good. I’ll be right with you.”

    Clara’s gaze travelled from Bob’s face to the cardboard box on the bed. “Are you okay? You look strange. What’s in that box?”

    “Odds and ends. Just doing a bit of sorting.” He put the piece of paper in the box and placed the lid back on. “Nothing that won’t keep till after dinner.”

    “If there are any old photos in the box I’d love to see them.”

    “Tell her,” said Jane. There she was, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed near the box. “Go on, tell her about the number.”

    Bob shook his head vigorously and Clara regarded him strangely. “Not to worry about photos then,” she said

    “You were wishing I was here and now here I am and you aren’t even going to listen to me?” Now Jane was whispering into his ear and he imagined he could almost feel her breath like a feather tickling his cheek—it was all he could do not to laugh. “Tell her or I will.”

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