1644
DAY THREE: TUESDAY
Lord Anthony Cheetham-Hewe of the County of Moistershire. It’s certainly a mouth full - or so the local prostitutes tell me. Frankly I never ask, but they tell me anyway. I can’t think why? Mind you, they do tend to have me in their hand, so to speak, at the time. Maybe it’s a veiled insult? Oh, who cares. As long as it gets wet once in a while, what difference does it make how big it is? To what am I referring? I think we all know, now, don’t we? Let’s not get immature about this, okay? Look! I’ve been told more than once that I’m quite average! Mind you, now I say it, that does sound a bit insulting -
Enough of that. Here we are, out in the cold so it seems, as the Lord of the County has deemed this to be the time for his quarterly visit to Upper Vaxham. And as the Chairman of the Town Council, I’m forced to be here too. It’s not all bad, though, because so is Dash and the rest of the committee. Let them suffer, even as I suffer! Didn't God say, something about suffering - something or other - somewhere - I don't know! It’s in the bloody book somewhere! No, I’ve not read it! Not entirely. I’ve skimmed it once or twice? Too much begetting and preachy stuff for me. Oh, I’ve memorised the bits I need to remember. I’m not stupid. Just, well, lazy.
Look at him, though? He can barely walk, he’s almost completely deaf, blind, disease ridden and has some kind of blood disorder - frankly it’s surprising he’s lasted this long, in truth. Did I mention the dementia? Are you sure? I thought I did? Ah, just a little joke for you there. Wow, you seriously have no sense of humour, do you?
Now, look. You have to admit that’s funny! Did you see that? Oh, I know you shouldn't mock the elderly, because it’ll catch up to each of us eventually, but funny is funny. Dash won’t forget that kiss in a long time. It very well might be his first kiss ever. Certainly his first from a geriatric. No, I tell a lie. The last woman I saw him with must’ve been near sixty? At least that’s what she told me when we had a quick grope in the vestry. She was very clean - and grateful. How’s that for a small one! Uh, I mean average one. Oh sod it.
I actually know His Lordship a little. I administered to a number of his trysts, back in the day. He probably doesn't remember me now. Sad, really. He was quite the cash-cow. Oh, how I bled that man dry back then! I’m not wholly proud of it. Well, actually I’m very proud of it, so sod you. Who are you to judge? Sorry, that was a bit vehement then. Maybe I’m hiding my latent greed under a cloak of anger? Whatever that means - look, I wouldn't do it now, would I? That shows some integrity, some compassion, I would have thought? Who asked you anyway? Oh, right. I did. As you were.
And so the procession moves on. I feel sorry for the old geezer, you know? Having to leave his big house with all those servants, at his beck and call; food and drink on tap, no real responsibility other than to tell others what to do - oh, sure, I have myself a Flit, but he’s just one man. Well, frankly half a whole man - anyway, he’s good for some things, but at other times he's a grumpy, little, annoying ball of filth.
Take this morning, for example? Had a face on him like a smacked arse. I think maybe he’s having troubles somewhere with something. But frankly I could care less. If I could find someone - anyone - who was as pliant as him - Oh, God! For a servant who doesn't answer back! No, that’s not fair. Not about his gitishness. That goes without saying. I mean that he’s my servant. He’s a Curate. and therefore a holy servant. So still a servant by another name. It’s just that - it’s just that he’s a bloody irritating one who does what he sodding well wants to sometimes! You know what? Judge not lest thee be judged thyself. In other words, shove it up your condescending arse!
Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. It’s been a difficult few days, you know? Of course you do. You were there. Never mind. Where was I? That’s right -
Well, it all seems like the procession is pretty much in hand at the moment. Think I’ll just slink off to the pub, while I have a minute. You know, I’m surprised so many people have come out to see His Lordship? You’d think he was here to hand out money, or something? Wait, he isn’t, is he? No, no. Phew. Just sloppy wet kisses. And I’m glad to be out of that, I can tell you.
Here we are! Just smell that odour of piss covered floors and finely brewed Beer dregs! A true perfume, let me tell you! Oh, look! Ranker’s not here! Is that his niece, Hermione? Just look at her! She’s got a smashing - bonnet? Well, you know what I mean. No need to be crass, is there?
“Ah, my dear, sweet, lovely, young Hermione -“ Great opening salvo, eh?
“I know you. Rector Posster. Uncle said not to serve you.”
“But - lovely, erm, old, stinky -“ Okay, so my superlatives escape me when it comes to Ranker. Lovely man, but a terrible temper.
“Look, if you keep out of trouble, Rector, I’ll let you have a glass full. More than that, and Uncle will have my guts for garters -“
“And such lovely guts - I mean garters - they are!” Where did that one come from? Am I on automatic at the moment? Mind you, I wouldn't mind a roll in the hay with her. Or indeed a handy. I’m not fussy.
“Drink up and leave, before you get us both into trouble.” Is that a come on?
“Oh, how I would like to get you into trouble -“
“Rector -“
“That’s my name! Don't wear it out!” I’m on fire right now! Wait - ah, only figuratively, thank goodness. These vestments go up like a furnace you know?
“Look, if you don’t -“ That’s right! I’m touching her! Oh, she’s so soft -
“Come away with me, to a place where we can both -“ What’s she looking at?
“Will!?” Whose Will when he’s at home? Oh, shit! That’s Will. Built like a tree trunk. Yes, as it turns out, I am now quite scared.
“Yes, Hermione?” Even his voice sounds like it’s made out of a tree.
“Husband, this man here -“ Husband? Crap. Now I recognise him! William Street, the Bare-Knuckle Pugilist and Upper Vaxham Cricket Team Player! I hope that smell is just the fetid Beer dregs about the floor and I haven’t - evacuated? Mind you, it would make a good defence mechanism, don't you think?
“Oh, Will is it? Will! My old mucker! My old friend! You - ow, you really are built like a tree trunk aren't you?” I won’t go slapping him on the back again, not unless I enjoy living with a broken hand. Ow. It’s still stinging, “There’s nothing - going on - between - right. I’ll sit over here then, shall I? I totally agree! Certainly the right place to sit, I must say. Well, thank you -“ Shut up, Posster, you idiot! Just shut up! “Will.”
Thats right, Posster. Take a sip of that Beer and stop looking at them now. Good boy. Ah sod it, I’m here now. I’ll just enjoy the Beer. Bear with me. Ah! There it is! Hits the spot, right there! Shit. He’s still looking at me, isn't he? What the bloody Hell is she saying to him? Time to go, I think. Just - don't look back. Keep going. Until you’re - there you go, outside! Bugger. I didn't miss the procession after all.
Looks like - oh God. He’s seen me. How? I mean, surely he can’t see beyond the tip of his nose? What if I quickly ran down -
“Rector! I was wondering where you were?” Damn it. Yes, well, that’s actually Dennis the Filthy you’re talking to, but almost, I’ll give you that.
“Here, Your Lordship - I said here, Your Lordship!” At least he’s getting closer.
“Can we talk, Rector? I have the need for something, you know -“ Yes, Lord Tony. I think everyone knows. Well, except for little Harry the Terminally Shy. Nope. Even he got it. At least it’s got Dash’s hackles up, so it can’t be all bad.
“But, Your Lordship, we haven’t -“
“Neither has he, Dash, and that’s the issue.” Ah, that got a few titters from the dirtier folks out there. It’s what I live for, don't you know? Actually, what I live for is profit, but a good guffaw doesn't hurt every now and then, “Come over here, Your Lordship. It’s quieter over here. Now, what can I do for you?” I’m saying it loud enough for him to hear, you understand. I can’t help it if others can hear too, can I? Sound travels. It certainly bloody does around here. You can’t get a moment to yourself, when you’re having a moment to yourself, if you catch my drift. And I’m confident you do, you dirty lot.
“Whose that?”
“It’s the Rector, Your Lordship.”
“The what?”
Oh for the sake of all that’s holy - “Rector Your Lordship!”
“Ah, just the man I wanted to, uhm -“
“See?”
“Where?”
“What?” God, it’s catching.
“I wonder if you can get me a woman.” You mean to eat? To instruct in the finer art of embroidery? To ride like a horse through the Glens - “You know, someone who might comfort an old man in his dotage?”
“You mean a whore?” Best to get to the point, don't you think?
“Well, yes.”
“Right you are, Your Lordship!” Let me just lead him over to this house and I’ll be right back with you. Come on! I don’t have all bloody day, you decrepit old geezer! Well, I really do, but I don't want to spend the rest of it transporting an old man about town. Thank God for that! He’s in! Right, now for the prossie. Who could be available at this time of day? Marabelle? Honey? Verona? Sid? What? You do know that Sidney is a girls name as well! You lot are in the Dark Ages, I can tell you. As it happens, she does have a stubbly beard, but she definitely is a woman. I promise you. I’ve looked. Twice. Actually, now I come to think of it - no, forget it. It doesn’t matter. But still -
Ah, there she is! Trish Treyne. Nearly a permanent vacancy on her doorway, shall we say? But the old git doesn’t get any, so he’s not going to be fussy. I tell you he better not be. Great. Now I have to interact with her. And that’s a mountain I’m not looking to climb too often.
“Back for more, Rector?” Not if I can help it, you old trollop.
“I have a man who is in need of - assistance?”
“Nah. Carryin’ is extra.”
“What are you - I mean there’s someone who needs your particular skills -“
“Like what?” God. How do you answer these questions?
“Like, I don't know, where he puts his thing into your - thing -“
“Oh, you mean rumpy? Why didn’tcha say?”
“I would have thought it obvious -“ I am right, aren't I? She is, indeed, being particularly obtuse at the moment? I would slap her, but she’d probably charge me for it. Look at that! Now that’s a sight you don't see every day - a prostitute on her feet. This way you indomitable wench.
Here, I’ll even open the door - he better be inside still. Breathing is optional, “Lord Anthony?”
“Oh, you didn't say he was a Lord!”
“Does it matter?”
“No, not really.” Then why bring it up, you annoying hag!
“Ah, Rector! And - whose this?”
“My name’s Trish, Your Lordliness!” Okay, now I’ve seen everything - Trish Treyne curtseying. Either that or she’s got her knickers trapped up the crack of her arse again.
“Well, I’ll leave you two kids to it, then.” Right. Thats my obligation done. Now to - oh shit. Sticks. Maybe if I -
“Rector!” Too late.
“Sticks, I’m sorry, but I don’t have the time -“ Every day! Every sodding, bloody, rotten day! Is he following me around or something? He must be. He’s right there when I bloody well don’t need him. Right. What useless drivel does he have to relay this day?
“Nice day, isn't it?”
“What?”
“I said, nice day, isn't it?”
“Possibly -“ What’s his angle? He’s scaring me -
“There’s a field of pixies over by the bluebells, you know.” Ah, there we go! I thought the world had gone topsy turvy there for a minute.
“Is there?” Maybe if I keep walking, he’ll get bored and walk off. Not so far.
“They’ve seen them, you know. They saw them drift in with the season. They heard their call. They now wait until the rope doth swing.” What is that boy’s obsession with ropes? And what’s a doth when it’s at home? In fact, why am I asking myself questions I don't know the answer to? Like that one? And that one?
“So, Sticks - how’s your Mother?” Let’s try and steer it back to normality, shall we? Or at least as close to normality as Upper Vaxham can achieve, which isn't nearly close enough.
“Mother is the word for their tails of summer.” Sure, whatever you say, kid. He’s gone full loony today, it would seem.
“Sticks, have you ever thought of, I don't know, talking to somebody about your condition? Like a Doctor or something?”
“They don't know! They don't understand! But you will understand, Rector! When they are ready for you! Then you will know!” It’s times like this I wish I had my handy burlap sack and my portable lake, so I could put the poor sod out of his misery. Mind you, he does tend to focus on me a lot, doesn't he? I can’t help it. It’s because I’m such a generous person, you know. I just feel like I need to help him I guess. Maybe, I don’t know, some patriarchal imperative? What do you mean I’m not generous? Alright, how about kind of spirit? Attentive? Curious? Bone idle? I knew you’d agree with that one! One of these days, I’m going to show you just how bloody generous I am!
Oh, thank God! Here comes Trish Treyne! That didn't take very long? Still, she did scare off Sticks, and I can only be grateful for that. Why does she look so flushed? Surely the Lord wasn't that energetic -
“Rector! Come quick!” Let me tell you, that’s not the first time a woman has said that to me! I know, I’m a comedy genius, “Something’s wrong!” What? Like he has a thingy shaped like a cannon ball? He snores when he comes? He’s really a woman? I dread to think. Also it’s not really any of my business. Better follow her anyway. Wow, Trish certainly can move when she wants to, can’t she?
She’s left the door open, look. Silly tart. Anybody could just walk in. I do hope His Lordship isn't naked in there when I - oh bugger.
No, I don’t mean that’s what he’s doing - oh never mind. But maybe he would’ve preferred that to what I’m presented with now. Yes, you guessed it. The old git is most definitely dead. It’s just my luck this had to happen to me, “Rector! What do we do?”
“We?” She’s a bit presumptuous, I think. Deniability, Wilfred. Say nothing and back out of the house.
“Oh, no! You’re not leaving me with - him!” She has one Hell of a grip - i’m told some like that.
“Come now, that’s not fair, is it? I mean I wasn't the one, you know, rubbing up against him, was I? No, I think I’ll just -“
“Help me, Rector, or I’ll say you broke in and killed him out of jealousy!” What a cow.
“Me? Jealous? Of him? And You?” Yes, I think I hit my top register there. Used to be a Choirboy, don’t you know. I used to sing the birds from the trees. Now I just scare them off those trees instead. Oh God, I’m in it up to my beard, aren't I?
I know! There is that unused well out on Tally Street? Closed due to the health scare, as I remember. I should do. It was me who started the scare. Deep wells are a good place to hide unwanted things, you know!
“Right, well, wrap him up in that sheet. We’ll dump him, then make some excuse that he was called away or something. As long as you’re quiet about it, Trish, everything should be fine.” I can’t believe I’m saying all this! I’m supposed to be a man of God, for God’s sake! Mind you, there’s no commandment about ‘thou shalt not dump a Lord down a well’, is there? At least not to my memory. Besides, if I say a prayer or something when we dump him, then it’ll be like a burial at sea, won’t it? Look, just go along with it. I think I’m losing my mind here.
“Now what?” Really? Does she need a bloody map?
“Now, we transport the dead Lord to his final, hopefully, resting place.”
“We?” Is there an echo in here?
“Yes, ‘we’! You expect me to drag this body half way across town without being noticed once? Not a bloody chance. If I’m going down, you’re going down with me!” You know, the last time I said that to her, it was in entirely different circumstances? I think you know to what I’m referring to. Don’t lie.
“Whatever. Can we get on with it?” And, funnily enough, that’s what she said then, too. If this is how it’s to be, I’m taking the head end. A quick look to see if the coast is clear, and - go!
“There! Over there. Ow! Sorry, he just slipped. Right, now down - in there, quick! Okay, they’ve gone. Down here, past the - wait! He’s got tangled in that - right, he’s free again! Keep going down here to - did you hear a door slam then? Oh God, look, let’s just get this over and - wait a minute, while I get the - lid - off! Okay, lift his feet and - done!” And a quick prayer - “God aid him in his journey to the other world, amen.” - and we’re out of there! There she goes, the hericidalist! Back to her world of slop. Time for me to make my -
“Wilfred Posster! Fancy meeting you down a dark alley?”
Jimmy Boots! God, how long has he been there? Did he see everything? Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!
“You look flustered, Posster!” Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Wait, maybe he didn't see anything -
“Oh, you know, tiring work, this administering to the flock -“
“And was that Trish Treyne I saw you with?”
“We met - in passing.” Is he buying it?
“Oh, sure, Rector.” That smile. Nope, he’s not buying it.
“Well, I better get back to -“
Ow! Some of that’s my chest hair you’re gripping onto! “How many times do we have to dance this dance, Posster?” Wait, is he coming on to me? “He’ll run out of patience eventually, you know, Posster. Do you really want to face a pissed off Major General? I know I wouldn’t, and I’m dangerous, Posster. Imagine that?” I’d rather not if you don't - never mind. I just did. I think I made a little accident, you know, down there, “Not to mention, when he finds out who impregnated his woman, he’ll be unbearable. Just think of it this way, Posster; right now, he is a pussy cat. There are several levels of Hell awaiting the man who screwed his woman, I can tell you. Heard of hanging, drawing and quartering? Well, he has expanded the quartering to dicing. Then hanging and drawing - like, something different? He really is a modern type of guy, you know?” I think they call that a shit-eating grin. His teeth certainly look like he’s been chomping down on something brown and sticky, that’s for sure. Well, at least he didn’t mention - “Oh, and if that was Lord Anthony Cheetham-Hewe of the County of Moistershire you just bundled down that well, and I think we both know it is, then maybe you should be a little less generous with your words and more forward with your purse. Time is ticking, Posster. Time is ticking.” Oh, and a slap - on - the - face. Thanks for that. Shit. Oh Shit, oh shit, oh shit. Oh God. Oh shit. Well, at least it can’t get any worse.
“Posster!” What now? Really? I don’t believe it! Here comes, William Street, rolling up his sleeves. Apparently, that’s how it can get worse!
“Look, now, Will - I mean Mr Street, sir, your honour - it doesn’t have to go this way! I mean -“
“Stand still, Posster, you coward! You insulted my wife’s honour! Now you pay!”
Bollocks!
“I don’t know what came over me! I’m so sorry!” Whimpering. Doesn't always work. And it’s not working now. Sod it.
“Too late for that. People like you need to be taught a lesson! Put ‘em up!” Put what up? I’m not holding anything - oh, he means my fists! Maybe if I -
“Come back here, you bloody coward!” Not a chance! As long as I can outrun him, get back to the Church and lock myself in - round here, round here, down this lane and -
Ouch! That sounded hard! Dare I look behind me? What if he’s right there and I catch a fist right in my face? I’m too pretty for that! Bugger it! I’m going to look behind -
“Posster! Can’t take you anywhere!” Jimmy! Jimmy Boots! The one time I am genuinely happy to see your horribly scarred face! Oh, but I think he might have killed William Street? There’s blood coming from a very large, red, head wound. I think I’m going to be sick - “Suck it up, Posster!” Surely he doesn't mean the blood? Oh - “Let’s just say that’s a freebie, shall we, Posster? There’s a good boy.”
Phew! See? It pays to have enemies in high places! The fact that Jimmy and the Major General want me more dead than this chancer, Will Street - it’s a kind of fatalistic security system. I’ve still got time to square it with the Roundabouts, haven't I? Right. I wonder if there’s still some room for one more down that well? Only one way to find out…
Lord Anthony Cheetham-Hewe of the County of Moistershire. It’s certainly a mouth full - or so the local prostitutes tell me. Frankly I never ask, but they tell me anyway. I can’t think why? Mind you, they do tend to have me in their hand, so to speak, at the time. Maybe it’s a veiled insult? Oh, who cares. As long as it gets wet once in a while, what difference does it make how big it is? To what am I referring? I think we all know, now, don’t we? Let’s not get immature about this, okay? Look! I’ve been told more than once that I’m quite average! Mind you, now I say it, that does sound a bit insulting -
Enough of that. Here we are, out in the cold so it seems, as the Lord of the County has deemed this to be the time for his quarterly visit to Upper Vaxham. And as the Chairman of the Town Council, I’m forced to be here too. It’s not all bad, though, because so is Dash and the rest of the committee. Let them suffer, even as I suffer! Didn't God say, something about suffering - something or other - somewhere - I don't know! It’s in the bloody book somewhere! No, I’ve not read it! Not entirely. I’ve skimmed it once or twice? Too much begetting and preachy stuff for me. Oh, I’ve memorised the bits I need to remember. I’m not stupid. Just, well, lazy.
Look at him, though? He can barely walk, he’s almost completely deaf, blind, disease ridden and has some kind of blood disorder - frankly it’s surprising he’s lasted this long, in truth. Did I mention the dementia? Are you sure? I thought I did? Ah, just a little joke for you there. Wow, you seriously have no sense of humour, do you?
Now, look. You have to admit that’s funny! Did you see that? Oh, I know you shouldn't mock the elderly, because it’ll catch up to each of us eventually, but funny is funny. Dash won’t forget that kiss in a long time. It very well might be his first kiss ever. Certainly his first from a geriatric. No, I tell a lie. The last woman I saw him with must’ve been near sixty? At least that’s what she told me when we had a quick grope in the vestry. She was very clean - and grateful. How’s that for a small one! Uh, I mean average one. Oh sod it.
I actually know His Lordship a little. I administered to a number of his trysts, back in the day. He probably doesn't remember me now. Sad, really. He was quite the cash-cow. Oh, how I bled that man dry back then! I’m not wholly proud of it. Well, actually I’m very proud of it, so sod you. Who are you to judge? Sorry, that was a bit vehement then. Maybe I’m hiding my latent greed under a cloak of anger? Whatever that means - look, I wouldn't do it now, would I? That shows some integrity, some compassion, I would have thought? Who asked you anyway? Oh, right. I did. As you were.
And so the procession moves on. I feel sorry for the old geezer, you know? Having to leave his big house with all those servants, at his beck and call; food and drink on tap, no real responsibility other than to tell others what to do - oh, sure, I have myself a Flit, but he’s just one man. Well, frankly half a whole man - anyway, he’s good for some things, but at other times he's a grumpy, little, annoying ball of filth.
Take this morning, for example? Had a face on him like a smacked arse. I think maybe he’s having troubles somewhere with something. But frankly I could care less. If I could find someone - anyone - who was as pliant as him - Oh, God! For a servant who doesn't answer back! No, that’s not fair. Not about his gitishness. That goes without saying. I mean that he’s my servant. He’s a Curate. and therefore a holy servant. So still a servant by another name. It’s just that - it’s just that he’s a bloody irritating one who does what he sodding well wants to sometimes! You know what? Judge not lest thee be judged thyself. In other words, shove it up your condescending arse!
Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. It’s been a difficult few days, you know? Of course you do. You were there. Never mind. Where was I? That’s right -
Well, it all seems like the procession is pretty much in hand at the moment. Think I’ll just slink off to the pub, while I have a minute. You know, I’m surprised so many people have come out to see His Lordship? You’d think he was here to hand out money, or something? Wait, he isn’t, is he? No, no. Phew. Just sloppy wet kisses. And I’m glad to be out of that, I can tell you.
Here we are! Just smell that odour of piss covered floors and finely brewed Beer dregs! A true perfume, let me tell you! Oh, look! Ranker’s not here! Is that his niece, Hermione? Just look at her! She’s got a smashing - bonnet? Well, you know what I mean. No need to be crass, is there?
“Ah, my dear, sweet, lovely, young Hermione -“ Great opening salvo, eh?
“I know you. Rector Posster. Uncle said not to serve you.”
“But - lovely, erm, old, stinky -“ Okay, so my superlatives escape me when it comes to Ranker. Lovely man, but a terrible temper.
“Look, if you keep out of trouble, Rector, I’ll let you have a glass full. More than that, and Uncle will have my guts for garters -“
“And such lovely guts - I mean garters - they are!” Where did that one come from? Am I on automatic at the moment? Mind you, I wouldn't mind a roll in the hay with her. Or indeed a handy. I’m not fussy.
“Drink up and leave, before you get us both into trouble.” Is that a come on?
“Oh, how I would like to get you into trouble -“
“Rector -“
“That’s my name! Don't wear it out!” I’m on fire right now! Wait - ah, only figuratively, thank goodness. These vestments go up like a furnace you know?
“Look, if you don’t -“ That’s right! I’m touching her! Oh, she’s so soft -
“Come away with me, to a place where we can both -“ What’s she looking at?
“Will!?” Whose Will when he’s at home? Oh, shit! That’s Will. Built like a tree trunk. Yes, as it turns out, I am now quite scared.
“Yes, Hermione?” Even his voice sounds like it’s made out of a tree.
“Husband, this man here -“ Husband? Crap. Now I recognise him! William Street, the Bare-Knuckle Pugilist and Upper Vaxham Cricket Team Player! I hope that smell is just the fetid Beer dregs about the floor and I haven’t - evacuated? Mind you, it would make a good defence mechanism, don't you think?
“Oh, Will is it? Will! My old mucker! My old friend! You - ow, you really are built like a tree trunk aren't you?” I won’t go slapping him on the back again, not unless I enjoy living with a broken hand. Ow. It’s still stinging, “There’s nothing - going on - between - right. I’ll sit over here then, shall I? I totally agree! Certainly the right place to sit, I must say. Well, thank you -“ Shut up, Posster, you idiot! Just shut up! “Will.”
Thats right, Posster. Take a sip of that Beer and stop looking at them now. Good boy. Ah sod it, I’m here now. I’ll just enjoy the Beer. Bear with me. Ah! There it is! Hits the spot, right there! Shit. He’s still looking at me, isn't he? What the bloody Hell is she saying to him? Time to go, I think. Just - don't look back. Keep going. Until you’re - there you go, outside! Bugger. I didn't miss the procession after all.
Looks like - oh God. He’s seen me. How? I mean, surely he can’t see beyond the tip of his nose? What if I quickly ran down -
“Rector! I was wondering where you were?” Damn it. Yes, well, that’s actually Dennis the Filthy you’re talking to, but almost, I’ll give you that.
“Here, Your Lordship - I said here, Your Lordship!” At least he’s getting closer.
“Can we talk, Rector? I have the need for something, you know -“ Yes, Lord Tony. I think everyone knows. Well, except for little Harry the Terminally Shy. Nope. Even he got it. At least it’s got Dash’s hackles up, so it can’t be all bad.
“But, Your Lordship, we haven’t -“
“Neither has he, Dash, and that’s the issue.” Ah, that got a few titters from the dirtier folks out there. It’s what I live for, don't you know? Actually, what I live for is profit, but a good guffaw doesn't hurt every now and then, “Come over here, Your Lordship. It’s quieter over here. Now, what can I do for you?” I’m saying it loud enough for him to hear, you understand. I can’t help it if others can hear too, can I? Sound travels. It certainly bloody does around here. You can’t get a moment to yourself, when you’re having a moment to yourself, if you catch my drift. And I’m confident you do, you dirty lot.
“Whose that?”
“It’s the Rector, Your Lordship.”
“The what?”
Oh for the sake of all that’s holy - “Rector Your Lordship!”
“Ah, just the man I wanted to, uhm -“
“See?”
“Where?”
“What?” God, it’s catching.
“I wonder if you can get me a woman.” You mean to eat? To instruct in the finer art of embroidery? To ride like a horse through the Glens - “You know, someone who might comfort an old man in his dotage?”
“You mean a whore?” Best to get to the point, don't you think?
“Well, yes.”
“Right you are, Your Lordship!” Let me just lead him over to this house and I’ll be right back with you. Come on! I don’t have all bloody day, you decrepit old geezer! Well, I really do, but I don't want to spend the rest of it transporting an old man about town. Thank God for that! He’s in! Right, now for the prossie. Who could be available at this time of day? Marabelle? Honey? Verona? Sid? What? You do know that Sidney is a girls name as well! You lot are in the Dark Ages, I can tell you. As it happens, she does have a stubbly beard, but she definitely is a woman. I promise you. I’ve looked. Twice. Actually, now I come to think of it - no, forget it. It doesn’t matter. But still -
Ah, there she is! Trish Treyne. Nearly a permanent vacancy on her doorway, shall we say? But the old git doesn’t get any, so he’s not going to be fussy. I tell you he better not be. Great. Now I have to interact with her. And that’s a mountain I’m not looking to climb too often.
“Back for more, Rector?” Not if I can help it, you old trollop.
“I have a man who is in need of - assistance?”
“Nah. Carryin’ is extra.”
“What are you - I mean there’s someone who needs your particular skills -“
“Like what?” God. How do you answer these questions?
“Like, I don't know, where he puts his thing into your - thing -“
“Oh, you mean rumpy? Why didn’tcha say?”
“I would have thought it obvious -“ I am right, aren't I? She is, indeed, being particularly obtuse at the moment? I would slap her, but she’d probably charge me for it. Look at that! Now that’s a sight you don't see every day - a prostitute on her feet. This way you indomitable wench.
Here, I’ll even open the door - he better be inside still. Breathing is optional, “Lord Anthony?”
“Oh, you didn't say he was a Lord!”
“Does it matter?”
“No, not really.” Then why bring it up, you annoying hag!
“Ah, Rector! And - whose this?”
“My name’s Trish, Your Lordliness!” Okay, now I’ve seen everything - Trish Treyne curtseying. Either that or she’s got her knickers trapped up the crack of her arse again.
“Well, I’ll leave you two kids to it, then.” Right. Thats my obligation done. Now to - oh shit. Sticks. Maybe if I -
“Rector!” Too late.
“Sticks, I’m sorry, but I don’t have the time -“ Every day! Every sodding, bloody, rotten day! Is he following me around or something? He must be. He’s right there when I bloody well don’t need him. Right. What useless drivel does he have to relay this day?
“Nice day, isn't it?”
“What?”
“I said, nice day, isn't it?”
“Possibly -“ What’s his angle? He’s scaring me -
“There’s a field of pixies over by the bluebells, you know.” Ah, there we go! I thought the world had gone topsy turvy there for a minute.
“Is there?” Maybe if I keep walking, he’ll get bored and walk off. Not so far.
“They’ve seen them, you know. They saw them drift in with the season. They heard their call. They now wait until the rope doth swing.” What is that boy’s obsession with ropes? And what’s a doth when it’s at home? In fact, why am I asking myself questions I don't know the answer to? Like that one? And that one?
“So, Sticks - how’s your Mother?” Let’s try and steer it back to normality, shall we? Or at least as close to normality as Upper Vaxham can achieve, which isn't nearly close enough.
“Mother is the word for their tails of summer.” Sure, whatever you say, kid. He’s gone full loony today, it would seem.
“Sticks, have you ever thought of, I don't know, talking to somebody about your condition? Like a Doctor or something?”
“They don't know! They don't understand! But you will understand, Rector! When they are ready for you! Then you will know!” It’s times like this I wish I had my handy burlap sack and my portable lake, so I could put the poor sod out of his misery. Mind you, he does tend to focus on me a lot, doesn't he? I can’t help it. It’s because I’m such a generous person, you know. I just feel like I need to help him I guess. Maybe, I don’t know, some patriarchal imperative? What do you mean I’m not generous? Alright, how about kind of spirit? Attentive? Curious? Bone idle? I knew you’d agree with that one! One of these days, I’m going to show you just how bloody generous I am!
Oh, thank God! Here comes Trish Treyne! That didn't take very long? Still, she did scare off Sticks, and I can only be grateful for that. Why does she look so flushed? Surely the Lord wasn't that energetic -
“Rector! Come quick!” Let me tell you, that’s not the first time a woman has said that to me! I know, I’m a comedy genius, “Something’s wrong!” What? Like he has a thingy shaped like a cannon ball? He snores when he comes? He’s really a woman? I dread to think. Also it’s not really any of my business. Better follow her anyway. Wow, Trish certainly can move when she wants to, can’t she?
She’s left the door open, look. Silly tart. Anybody could just walk in. I do hope His Lordship isn't naked in there when I - oh bugger.
No, I don’t mean that’s what he’s doing - oh never mind. But maybe he would’ve preferred that to what I’m presented with now. Yes, you guessed it. The old git is most definitely dead. It’s just my luck this had to happen to me, “Rector! What do we do?”
“We?” She’s a bit presumptuous, I think. Deniability, Wilfred. Say nothing and back out of the house.
“Oh, no! You’re not leaving me with - him!” She has one Hell of a grip - i’m told some like that.
“Come now, that’s not fair, is it? I mean I wasn't the one, you know, rubbing up against him, was I? No, I think I’ll just -“
“Help me, Rector, or I’ll say you broke in and killed him out of jealousy!” What a cow.
“Me? Jealous? Of him? And You?” Yes, I think I hit my top register there. Used to be a Choirboy, don’t you know. I used to sing the birds from the trees. Now I just scare them off those trees instead. Oh God, I’m in it up to my beard, aren't I?
I know! There is that unused well out on Tally Street? Closed due to the health scare, as I remember. I should do. It was me who started the scare. Deep wells are a good place to hide unwanted things, you know!
“Right, well, wrap him up in that sheet. We’ll dump him, then make some excuse that he was called away or something. As long as you’re quiet about it, Trish, everything should be fine.” I can’t believe I’m saying all this! I’m supposed to be a man of God, for God’s sake! Mind you, there’s no commandment about ‘thou shalt not dump a Lord down a well’, is there? At least not to my memory. Besides, if I say a prayer or something when we dump him, then it’ll be like a burial at sea, won’t it? Look, just go along with it. I think I’m losing my mind here.
“Now what?” Really? Does she need a bloody map?
“Now, we transport the dead Lord to his final, hopefully, resting place.”
“We?” Is there an echo in here?
“Yes, ‘we’! You expect me to drag this body half way across town without being noticed once? Not a bloody chance. If I’m going down, you’re going down with me!” You know, the last time I said that to her, it was in entirely different circumstances? I think you know to what I’m referring to. Don’t lie.
“Whatever. Can we get on with it?” And, funnily enough, that’s what she said then, too. If this is how it’s to be, I’m taking the head end. A quick look to see if the coast is clear, and - go!
“There! Over there. Ow! Sorry, he just slipped. Right, now down - in there, quick! Okay, they’ve gone. Down here, past the - wait! He’s got tangled in that - right, he’s free again! Keep going down here to - did you hear a door slam then? Oh God, look, let’s just get this over and - wait a minute, while I get the - lid - off! Okay, lift his feet and - done!” And a quick prayer - “God aid him in his journey to the other world, amen.” - and we’re out of there! There she goes, the hericidalist! Back to her world of slop. Time for me to make my -
“Wilfred Posster! Fancy meeting you down a dark alley?”
Jimmy Boots! God, how long has he been there? Did he see everything? Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!
“You look flustered, Posster!” Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Wait, maybe he didn't see anything -
“Oh, you know, tiring work, this administering to the flock -“
“And was that Trish Treyne I saw you with?”
“We met - in passing.” Is he buying it?
“Oh, sure, Rector.” That smile. Nope, he’s not buying it.
“Well, I better get back to -“
Ow! Some of that’s my chest hair you’re gripping onto! “How many times do we have to dance this dance, Posster?” Wait, is he coming on to me? “He’ll run out of patience eventually, you know, Posster. Do you really want to face a pissed off Major General? I know I wouldn’t, and I’m dangerous, Posster. Imagine that?” I’d rather not if you don't - never mind. I just did. I think I made a little accident, you know, down there, “Not to mention, when he finds out who impregnated his woman, he’ll be unbearable. Just think of it this way, Posster; right now, he is a pussy cat. There are several levels of Hell awaiting the man who screwed his woman, I can tell you. Heard of hanging, drawing and quartering? Well, he has expanded the quartering to dicing. Then hanging and drawing - like, something different? He really is a modern type of guy, you know?” I think they call that a shit-eating grin. His teeth certainly look like he’s been chomping down on something brown and sticky, that’s for sure. Well, at least he didn’t mention - “Oh, and if that was Lord Anthony Cheetham-Hewe of the County of Moistershire you just bundled down that well, and I think we both know it is, then maybe you should be a little less generous with your words and more forward with your purse. Time is ticking, Posster. Time is ticking.” Oh, and a slap - on - the - face. Thanks for that. Shit. Oh Shit, oh shit, oh shit. Oh God. Oh shit. Well, at least it can’t get any worse.
“Posster!” What now? Really? I don’t believe it! Here comes, William Street, rolling up his sleeves. Apparently, that’s how it can get worse!
“Look, now, Will - I mean Mr Street, sir, your honour - it doesn’t have to go this way! I mean -“
“Stand still, Posster, you coward! You insulted my wife’s honour! Now you pay!”
Bollocks!
“I don’t know what came over me! I’m so sorry!” Whimpering. Doesn't always work. And it’s not working now. Sod it.
“Too late for that. People like you need to be taught a lesson! Put ‘em up!” Put what up? I’m not holding anything - oh, he means my fists! Maybe if I -
“Come back here, you bloody coward!” Not a chance! As long as I can outrun him, get back to the Church and lock myself in - round here, round here, down this lane and -
Ouch! That sounded hard! Dare I look behind me? What if he’s right there and I catch a fist right in my face? I’m too pretty for that! Bugger it! I’m going to look behind -
“Posster! Can’t take you anywhere!” Jimmy! Jimmy Boots! The one time I am genuinely happy to see your horribly scarred face! Oh, but I think he might have killed William Street? There’s blood coming from a very large, red, head wound. I think I’m going to be sick - “Suck it up, Posster!” Surely he doesn't mean the blood? Oh - “Let’s just say that’s a freebie, shall we, Posster? There’s a good boy.”
Phew! See? It pays to have enemies in high places! The fact that Jimmy and the Major General want me more dead than this chancer, Will Street - it’s a kind of fatalistic security system. I’ve still got time to square it with the Roundabouts, haven't I? Right. I wonder if there’s still some room for one more down that well? Only one way to find out…
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