Nope, I still own nothing, 'cept my own Characters. 'Plum' owns all the
others.
Chapter Four
If the doors in front of me were the standard size of doors in this blasted household, then I could only assume that all the Georgehaths were on the porky side. They looked as if they'd been made to measure. Indeed, when the maid opened them, and I perceived Miss Olivia Georgehath, reclining like a whale on the settee, I could see that, doorframes tight at the hips, were fashionable in the Georgehath house.
I took a brave step in, and the doors banged shut behind me, like those crypt doors you read about.
Then, just as I was fighting a losing battle to calm my nerves, a sound like an engine whistle rent the air.
"Coo!! Are you Bertie Woo-ooster?"
I didn't like the way she said my name. She had a motherly aspect about her, worried, caring, all that rot. I wasn't taken.
"Oh, ah. Yes. What ho!"
This simple greeting had a strange affect on the girl. She did a sort of rolling leap off the settee, and, by some means of propulsion unknown to me, she came in my direction.
"Oh, Bertie! You are wonderful, just like I imagined you!"
The aforementioned 'black abyss', opened yet wider. The loathsome female moved still closer.
"Oh, Bertie! I am sorry, but I must go and telegraph Mrs Spencer Gregson."
I finally found my voice, and attempted to use it.
"W-Why?"
"To confirm our engagement of course!" The next event makes me shiver, as it must surely be the worst moment in my career. As she swooshed past me, the girl Olivia grabbed me in a pair of arms like iron rods, and proceeded to slobber lightly on my cheek. Then she was gone, and I tried in vein to locate a source of recuperative, namely whiskey and soda. And, in my personal view, the more whiskey there was, the better.
Chapter Four
If the doors in front of me were the standard size of doors in this blasted household, then I could only assume that all the Georgehaths were on the porky side. They looked as if they'd been made to measure. Indeed, when the maid opened them, and I perceived Miss Olivia Georgehath, reclining like a whale on the settee, I could see that, doorframes tight at the hips, were fashionable in the Georgehath house.
I took a brave step in, and the doors banged shut behind me, like those crypt doors you read about.
Then, just as I was fighting a losing battle to calm my nerves, a sound like an engine whistle rent the air.
"Coo!! Are you Bertie Woo-ooster?"
I didn't like the way she said my name. She had a motherly aspect about her, worried, caring, all that rot. I wasn't taken.
"Oh, ah. Yes. What ho!"
This simple greeting had a strange affect on the girl. She did a sort of rolling leap off the settee, and, by some means of propulsion unknown to me, she came in my direction.
"Oh, Bertie! You are wonderful, just like I imagined you!"
The aforementioned 'black abyss', opened yet wider. The loathsome female moved still closer.
"Oh, Bertie! I am sorry, but I must go and telegraph Mrs Spencer Gregson."
I finally found my voice, and attempted to use it.
"W-Why?"
"To confirm our engagement of course!" The next event makes me shiver, as it must surely be the worst moment in my career. As she swooshed past me, the girl Olivia grabbed me in a pair of arms like iron rods, and proceeded to slobber lightly on my cheek. Then she was gone, and I tried in vein to locate a source of recuperative, namely whiskey and soda. And, in my personal view, the more whiskey there was, the better.