1644
DAY FOUR: WEDNESDAY
Ah, isn’t it always the way? Make plans, drive those plans forward, and - oops! - there go the plans into the metaphorical mouth of that mangy hound over there, who is now turning those plans into crap. This is a particularly torturous day I can tell you, and very much from the moment I woke up - with blinding light, and parents. Dear God. Who’d have ‘em, eh?
Oh, you know what I mean -
And it seems they’ve chosen today, of all days, to visit. So why is today special? It’s only the culmination of months of preparation in the greatest confidence trick ever perpetrated! You see, I’ve been setting up these Wives of very rich Land Owners, and today is the day it pays! Finally, I’ll be able to pay off the Roundabouts and my gizzards might very well remain on the inside, as I prefer them to be. I’ve even arranged for one of their Representatives to meet me later today. But wouldn’t you guess it? The less than erudite Maud and Eric Posster - him a blacksmith, her a tyrant - decide to bypass convention and, yes, wake me up with their annoyingness. If I was any less of a Son, I might get Flit to beat them up and send them on their way. Well, it’s still an option, and I’m going to keep my options open.
“Flit? Flit!”
“He’s gone out.”
“What do you mean, he’s gone out?” Where’s he gone out to, the little -
Ow. Hey, I think I’m a little too old for a clip round the earhole, “Don’t talk back to your Father!”
“Sorry, but I need him.”
“What do you need him for, exactly?”
“Well, I need to get dressed -“ Ow! That was definitely harder!
“Alright then, if you don’t mind -“
“Oh, there’s nothing me and your Father haven’t seen before.”
“Yes, but back then I was a baby, and there was a reason for it!”
“I doubt it’s changed that much.”
“Is that an insult - ow!”
“Come, Father. Let’s leave the silly little boy to it then.”
See? Now you know what I’ve had to put up with. It’s no wonder I’ve turned out like I have, is it? Anyway, I’m dressed now. I still do want to know where Flit’s gone, however. I’d hate to think he’s dead by the side of a road - and I’m not there to kick his arse for being a lazy little toad and choosing to die in my service. I’d have to pay the funeral costs, and that’s not going to happen. I’d rather tie a rock around his leg and chuck him in the nearest lake. It’s probably the first wash he’ll have in about a decade too. Filthy rodent. Right, down to the -
“Have you eaten, Wilfred?” I don’t even have a kitchen, so no, “Eat, before you leave.”
“I’m alright, Mom. Leave it.”
“Do as your Mother says.” God save me from these turbulent parents! There’s some fruit there that’s not completely rotten -
“Okay?”
“Hmm. Good enough. Now, what are we to do today? Your Father and I would quite like -“
“I’ve got business this morning. You’ll have to entertain yourselves. There’s a decent pub, an eatery, a bakery, the Market Square -“
“Your Mother and I will accompany you on your business.” Oh, great.
“Well - stay at the back of the Church and keep quiet! Right? Come on then!” Oh, for - they’re walking too slow! Sod it, they’ll just have to catch me up! Got to get to the Church before -
“Rector. Five minutes late, I see?” There she is - Mrs Hortense de Poissant. Her husband used to be called Fish, you know, until he came into money. Then she forced him to change it. How could she possibly know how late I am? Judging time is a challenge at best these days. There’s night and there’s day. There’s light and there’s darkness. And in the middle is a whole lot of guessing. Oh, sure, we have timepieces, but they rely on accuracy. And who’s to say one timepiece is more accurate than another? Ah, semantics. Bugger it - right, unlocking the Church.
“Oh, Rector? ‘Ow about a little snifta?” That’s Ida Cornway. Wow. Sounds like she’s got a few wines in her already. The younger one? She’s Millicent Brankenridge. New money, it’s said. Her husband’s a self-made man, I believe. Never mind, it’s largely six of one, half a dozen of the other, and time’s pushing forward like Ida Cornway rolling down an embankment - trust me, in her day, that woman knew far too many hedgerows, if you catch my drift. I mean she was a floozie. Look, I don’t have the time for compassion. It’s them or me. And I love me. I’m largely indifferent to them.
Wine. Wine. Where’s the bloody wine? I usually hide it, but Flit has a nose for grapes, you know? Probably because he looks like one. Trust me, he really is ugly. See, I only have to turn my back for a minute and he’s off, with the bottle, nesting under the pulpit. And when that happens - trust me, it’s best to just let him finish it and sleep it off. Otherwise - well, let me put it this way; have you ever tried to prise a bone from a wolfhound? Well, don't bother. It’s pointless and you get covered in buckets of slobber. Much like you do with Flit. And no one wants to be covered in Flit slobber. Ah! Here we go! Luckily Flit hasn't noticed this one.
“Here we are ladies!” One for her - and her - and her. Not forgetting little old me! And - oh, I nearly forgot about them. If only.
“Don’t worry, Willie. Your Father and I will be back here. Pay us no mind.” Yes, I’ve been trying to do that for the last forty odd years! Oh, just look at that sourness, “Wine? At this time of the day? Are you sure? Oh, hello there! This is my husband, Eric, and I’m Maud. Willie here is our little Son!”
“Mrs Hortense de Poissant. Charmed. This is my friend Mrs Ida Cornway and the flighty girl there is Millicent Brankenridge.”
“Nice to meet some of Willie’s friends at last! He never tells us about himself, you know.” Thanks for that, Dad.
“I’m not sure we are counted as friends, Mr Posster? Acquaintances I believe would be more apt?”
Yes, Dad. Stop interrupting.
“So, what is it? A meeting or something?”
“The Rector is kind enough to spend some of his time on our spiritual succour.”
“Well, I never -“
“Mom -“
“Do you hear this, Eric? You hear what your Son is up to?”
“I did, Maud. And I’m not sure it’s appropriate.”
And here comes Ida Cornway with her bloody opinion, “We’m ‘ere ter ‘elp the Rector, yer know, with ‘is ideas?” Wow. That slip in accent happened quick.
“What she means is the Rector was thinking of expanding the Church, and wanted to see if we could aid him in his endeavours. We have so much to give in the cause of charity and the dear Rector here,” Ooh. Hand on the arm there, from Millicent, “He has so many people yet to feel his light. Isn’t that right, Rector?” Ah, and a smile! If it didn't spoil the whole caper, I’d roger her right there, over the font. Phwoar! And I bet she’s filthy with it! Her husband always seems worn out. Lucky sod.
“Ah, that’s our Willie. Always - generous.” What’s that supposed to mean?
“What’s that supposed to mean, Mom? Hey Dad? Tell her?”
“She meant nothing by it.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes, fine, thank you, Mrs de Poissant. Mom, Dad? Will you excuse us a minute or two, ladies? Help yourself to more wine! Right, you two, come with me!” This is all getting too much. And I can’t have these two spoiling my plans. Right. In here they go!
“You’re barred!” Ah, I see Ranker’s better. More’s the pity.
“Don’t worry. I’m not stopping. Just dropping off two parents. Then I’m gone.”
“Well - okay then. Oh, Hermione said her Will’s gone missing. Know anything about it?”
“Me? I know nothing but the will of God, Ranker. And that’s enough.” That got him. He’ll be thinking about that one for a while. Time enough for me to scarper. Got some extorting to do, haven’t I? Back to the - right, this is on purpose now, surely? I mean - well, you know what I mean.
“Sticks.” Get there before he does.
“Darkness is coming Rector!”
“It usually does, at the end of the day.” I so want to be somewhere else right now?
“But this is darkness in the daytime. And they dance, and creep, and swallow the goiter of condemnation. They near us, Rector. And there is nothing you nor I can do about it.” Well, right now I can walk away, you lunatic. There is that. No - don’t - follow - and - ah! There you go! Back inside the Church! Lucky escape. Oh yes. Nearly forgot. The ladies.
“Are your Father and Mother alright, Rector? They seem a little - unusual.” Oh, you have no idea how true those words are, Mrs Fish.
“Trust me, Mrs de Poissant they’re more than fine. I left them in the - erm - Rectory! That’s it! Cock’s Finger?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A snack. Or a slice of pie?”
“No, we’re fine, thank you Rector.” You say that, but it very much looks like Ida Cornway could’ve done with a little Cock’s Finger. Oh, calm down! It’s a pastry sweet, you dirty minded people! “If we could return to the business at hand? I have to leave soon, to instruct the servants in how to prepare the food correctly for supper. They’re a simple lot. I’m sure you understand?” Oh, yes, Hortense. I certainly do understand. Then don’t be surprised when crooked people like me take you for every drop of cash your unfortunate husband has earned, for comments such as that. You know, I may be a villain, but I’m a fair one! So have at it, you harlot! Oh, that’s right. The con.
“You know me, ladies. I abhor the discussion of money.” That’s true. I prefer to have it than bloody talk about it.
“Oh, we know, Rector. But the Church has so many people that require the attention of such a holy man as you.”
“Thank you for your kind words, Millicent. But it remains a burden on us to participate in an unGodly world, where the heathen requires payment for all things.” I know, I know. Even I’m getting bored. But it has to be done. Look, it’s not your neck on the line, is it? So for a while I’m required to fawn over the obtuse, the souse and the flighty. Relax. It’ll be over soon. At least that’s what I told her! No? Thought that might lighten the mood a bit -
“Yam a right sort yam are! Come ‘ere me little star! ‘Ave some jam!”
“Really, Mrs Cornway, I’ve enough already!” I do. You should see how many jars I’ve got in the vestry! I could probably start a small shop back there if I wanted.
“Never ‘erts to ‘ave some more!” There’s two opinions on that. And yours is wrong Ida.
“Rector? The Bishop mentioned something about an incident -“ Where did that come from?
“Oh, Mrs de Poissant! You don’t strike me as the type to listen to scandalous rumours? Surely -“ Oh great. Here they come. That didn’t last long.
“I see your parents have returned?”
“It would seem so. Sorry Mrs de Poissant?”
“One should never apologise for their parents, Rector. They, however should, for themselves. I see now, as you have often told us, of your uncouth upbringing. But they have not destroyed that spirit within. For that you are to be commended, Rector.”
“It’s nice of you to say, Mrs de Poissant -“
“Willie? Are you in there? It’s a bit dark?”
“Course he is, Maud, you great lump. The door would be locked if he wasn’t.”
“Eric Posster! Don't you dare call me -“
“Yes, Mom, Dad. Will you excuse me ladies?” Okay. Here we go. Times come. Cue the music, “What is it you want? Sorry to be blunt, but I don't have time right now to minister to you and Dad.”
“You hear that Father? You hear how your son talks to his Mother?”
“I’m standing right here, Maud. Of course I did.”
“Rector?” And here’s the clincher.
“Mrs de Poissant?”
“We see how busy you are, so I have spoken to the other ladies and we have agreed. Here.” Oh yes! You get that? The whiff of money? Delicious, isn't it?
“I’m sorry, ladies. And I thank you, most humbly for your donation to the Church!”
“You are most welcome, Rector!” Ah, Millicent Brankenridge. She smells of it too, like a wealthy perfume. The odour of money is sweeter than - oh sod it, who cares! I got the money!
“Now, don't be a stranger, Rector! And ‘eres some jam! Get it down yer!”
“Thank you, Mrs Cornway. I will, indeed - get it down me. Thank you for coming, ladies!” Right, that’s done and them gone! Time to secure the cash! The parents? You’re right, “Okay, get out, you two.” That’s them out too, and - the Church is locked! Actually, that wasn't too bad of a day, was it? Seems a bit - I don't know - short?
Oh well, places to be, people to see! Now to pay off the Roundabouts! What was that? Aren’t I forgetting my parents? Well, now -
Fooled you!
Confused? Well, let me explain. As it happens, I don't know who my actual parents are. Or where they are. Those two, in fact, are Maud and Eric Wendegrass who I met once in Frannary, a town some ten miles that way from here. I’ve not got a clue what they really do, and I don't think I want to. Still, what a lark, eh? And here comes the man from the Roundabouts! At last, I can pay them off, and -
Hang on - where’s the purse? I had it in my hand, then I locked the Church, then - Oh, bloody Hell! Oh, I don't believe it! Those devious, evil, disreputable bastards! What I need at a time like this is - Flit?! Flit! Where are you Flit?! I desperately need to thrash you to within an inch of your nethers! Flit?!? Shit! Forget it! I’ve got to get the Hell out of here!
Let me tell you, even as I turn tail and run, the Wendegrass’s better be running faster. I’m going to get my pound of flesh, even if I have to carve it out of that evil woman’s hide - with that man’s teeth!
No, no. Calmer heads are needed here. Right, where would I be if I were a snivelling insect of a crook? That’s right! In Church! Wait, that doesn't sound right - Okay. Where would they be, then? Aha!
Damn. Hope against hope, I thought if I just declared it, the picture would enter my mind. I’ll have to do it the long way, I suppose. First, the pub. The smell of blah blah, the texture of etcetera etcetera -
“Flit!” Wouldn't you believe it? The hairy carbuncle returns! “Where the Hell have you been - I know! I’m barred! But - hang on, isn't Flit barred too? Shit, sorry Flit. No, wait a minute! Where have you been? Just when I needed you! Take that!” It’s the only way they learn, you know. I’d take him by the scruff of the neck and march him back to the Rectory, but I don't want to touch him. I feel dirty enough already.
“It was your parents. Sent me on an errand.”
“How many times, you dolt, they aren't my parents! They were part of the con I finished not a few minutes ago, remember? Except they’ve scarpered with the dosh.”
“Sounds bad.”
“Well, thanks for that, Lord of Understatement! Did you not see the bloody Roundabout?! He’s come for the money I owe them!”
“So?” So? So?!
“Do - I - have - to keep hitting you until it sinks into that tiny vegetable of a brain? I don't have it! They stole it!”
“Right, well, you’re buggered then.” So help me -
“Think about this, you little undulant turd, if I go down, then who in God’s name is going to employ you? If by some miracle someone does, you might have to do some actual work -“ That got him! Like a bloody hound, this one, when he’s got the scent! And all it needed was a little motivation. He’s off! Perhaps I should’ve put a leash about his neck - oh, never mind. He’ll tire himself out soon. Just watch him go! I swear he is the product of a tryst betwixt a dog and a hedgerow. That or his parents are siblings.
“Well, Posster. Fancy meeting you here?”
Oh, like I need this right now, “Dash. It’s really not the time -“
“I don't know if it’s ever the time, Posster. But let me ask you - What really happened to His Lordship? I mean, you were the last to see him, weren’t you?”
“Me and Trish Treyne. Don't forget Trish Treyne.”
“How could I ever? But you’re dodging the question.”
“Dodging? Me? The question you say? Dodging the question?” Me?
“Yes, Posster. You. Like you were then.”
“Me? Then? Dodging is it?”
“Oh, forget it. I’ll just wait until the Magistrate arrives. Then we shall see.”
“See will we? When the Magistrate comes -“
“Enough, Posster! Just - oh, forget it! Pah!” There goes the easiest man to annoy. You should try it some time? It’s fun. Oh yes. The money.
Right, well, I think I should look around, at least. I mean, they might still be in town? It’s big enough and there’s plenty of places to hide. Nope, not at the Church. Rectory? They do have clothes there, I know. Wonder if Flit’s found anything yet? I mean, I would leave town, but then - well, you know - the story of the twenty days? Has to take place somewhere, and why not exclusively in this town? Besides, I don't have the inclination to travel, and these mind-sets aren't cheap, you know. Right. Not at the Rectory either, and the clothes are gone. Where else? You know, I think they said once they have friends in Worty Road? Let’s go see. Wow. The sound of battle is certainly loud today! Just a reminder, you know, in case you forgot there’s a war on? Anyway -
There he is! Ah, he’s just sitting there licking his - eww. No wait. That’s not Flit. That’s Flit. You can see how I get easily confused, can’t you? Here we are - Worty Road.
“Well, Flit?”
“They’re here, alright. First they went to the Rectory, then to the Market, then -“
“Alright, Flit. I don't need an itinerary.”
“Anyway, they’re down this road. Don't know which house though.” I can see what he means. The odour of feculent matter permeates - eww! I just stepped in some shit! Eww, eww, eww! There you go. There is a use for Flit’s coat after all.
“Right, well, you take that side, and I’ll take this side. Look for signs of the thieving, robbing, evil scum-like weasels. Other than the usual residents, of course.”
Nope. Nothing here. What about - nope. Come on! This is ridiculous! I wonder if I could tap the ladies again? Maybe? Damn it! I’m running out of time! No, it would never work again. I’ve bled that source dry. Besides, I would need parents again, and a whole new set-up with different ladies, and - so help me, when I find these felons, I’m going to tear them limb from limb -
“Nice day for it, Rector.” Oh shit! Who’s that? God, I nearly dropped dead then -
“Oh, Edward Mobbs. It’s you.” Thank God for that! It’s only - bugger. The Clubman! You know what this means. I’m in the proverbial.
“So, what brings a man such as you to this particular street?” Was that accusatory? It’s hard to tell. Ed Mobbs always sounds like he’s mid argument with someone.
“Oh, you know, religious stuff.”
“Really? Such as?” Oh, for God’s sake, bugger off! Before you spoil everything!
“So, how’s the Clubmen thing going? Enjoying your position as chief? Or whatever you call it?” Go away!
“Always alert, Rector. Always alert.” Nice. Lovely conversation. Now, bugger off! Where’s Flit going?
“Ah, well - uhm -“ Did Mobbs see Flit then? I bloody hope not.
“Was that your Curate, Rector?” Uh-oh.
“Where? Oh, that? I thought it was a small dog -“
“No, it was definitely your Curate. Has he business down there? And if so, why are you not with him?” You do like asking bloody questions, don’t you?
“Well, he’s - preparing the recipient for my administering.” Yes, that sounds plausible.
“And that’s a common thing, is it?” Oh, God, please open up a hole and swallow your lesser creature? No? Bugger - worth a try.
“This is a special case. Now, if you don't mind -“
“Oh, one other thing. I have been informed by a concerned citizen, that Lord Anthony Cheetham-Hewe of the County of Moistershire did not complete his obligations yesterday, and that you were the last to see him?” That doddery old git is going to be the death of me. Literally.
“And Trish Treyne. Why does everyone forget Trish Treyne?” Well said that man. Why do people forget Trish Treyne? Once seen, surely she is never forgotten?
“I am yet to question her. I simply wondered if there was something you could provide in the way of information?” Yes. I chucked him down a well, after Trish Treyne screwed him to death.
“No, sorry, Mr Mobbs. He asked for someone who could provide him with a - massage, and I remembered Trish Treyne saying something about she is good with her hands? I presume that was to what she was referring to?” That’s right, my boy! Remind him you're a naive God-fearing man of the cloth! You could get away with murder, you know - hopefully.
“Hmm. You are aware Trish Treyne is a - woman of ill repute?”
“You mean she - lies?” Hook line and bloody sinker!
“Something like that, but more - wait a minute, isn't that your Curate again? And why is he on the back of that cart, which is racing round that corner? Also, why is he attacking that middle-aged couple?” Wow. Thanks Mr Exposition. He is right, however. The little turd is only fighting them! Get ‘em Flit! Keep this up, and I might give you a pay raise! I said might. Tell you what, I’ll give him a pat on the back. No, that coat’s filthy. I’ll shake him by the hand - nope, not that either. Look, I just won’t kick him as hard, okay? Wait. I shouldn't make promises I can’t keep.
“So - it would seem. They are particularly in need of administering to, as you can see? Catholic tendencies, so I’m informed. Flit needs to - wrestle the spirit from them -“
“I don’t pretend to know the works of the Church and the Lord, Rector. Hang about. What was that? Something fell from the cart?” Something - fell? It’s the bag! It’s the bag of money those greedy, deceitful - whatever! I need to get to it before -
“So, in your opinion, Trish Treyne, the - lady of - the night is -“ Oh for all that’s holy! Let me get the bag, before - No! No, no, no! Shitsticks! The Roundabout Representative! Oh, just go away, Mobbs! Don’t you understand my life hangs in the balance - No! Don’t you dare! Get your filthy - what a bastard! He’s only gone and picked it up! Great! Now the Roundabouts have the money, but they've no idea it’s from me! He’s just walking away now! Flit! Get back here, you -
“Rector? Could I have your attention for a second -“ Oops! I shouldn't have done that! Punching a Clubman in the face! I could get - actually, you know what? He’s unconscious now, so why don't I do what I do best?
Run away!
When he comes round, I’m sure to have thought of an excuse by then. And if not, I’ll ply Flit with some wine and set him on Edward Mobbs.
Those seventeen days can’t come quick enough right now!
Flit!
Ah, isn’t it always the way? Make plans, drive those plans forward, and - oops! - there go the plans into the metaphorical mouth of that mangy hound over there, who is now turning those plans into crap. This is a particularly torturous day I can tell you, and very much from the moment I woke up - with blinding light, and parents. Dear God. Who’d have ‘em, eh?
Oh, you know what I mean -
And it seems they’ve chosen today, of all days, to visit. So why is today special? It’s only the culmination of months of preparation in the greatest confidence trick ever perpetrated! You see, I’ve been setting up these Wives of very rich Land Owners, and today is the day it pays! Finally, I’ll be able to pay off the Roundabouts and my gizzards might very well remain on the inside, as I prefer them to be. I’ve even arranged for one of their Representatives to meet me later today. But wouldn’t you guess it? The less than erudite Maud and Eric Posster - him a blacksmith, her a tyrant - decide to bypass convention and, yes, wake me up with their annoyingness. If I was any less of a Son, I might get Flit to beat them up and send them on their way. Well, it’s still an option, and I’m going to keep my options open.
“Flit? Flit!”
“He’s gone out.”
“What do you mean, he’s gone out?” Where’s he gone out to, the little -
Ow. Hey, I think I’m a little too old for a clip round the earhole, “Don’t talk back to your Father!”
“Sorry, but I need him.”
“What do you need him for, exactly?”
“Well, I need to get dressed -“ Ow! That was definitely harder!
“Alright then, if you don’t mind -“
“Oh, there’s nothing me and your Father haven’t seen before.”
“Yes, but back then I was a baby, and there was a reason for it!”
“I doubt it’s changed that much.”
“Is that an insult - ow!”
“Come, Father. Let’s leave the silly little boy to it then.”
See? Now you know what I’ve had to put up with. It’s no wonder I’ve turned out like I have, is it? Anyway, I’m dressed now. I still do want to know where Flit’s gone, however. I’d hate to think he’s dead by the side of a road - and I’m not there to kick his arse for being a lazy little toad and choosing to die in my service. I’d have to pay the funeral costs, and that’s not going to happen. I’d rather tie a rock around his leg and chuck him in the nearest lake. It’s probably the first wash he’ll have in about a decade too. Filthy rodent. Right, down to the -
“Have you eaten, Wilfred?” I don’t even have a kitchen, so no, “Eat, before you leave.”
“I’m alright, Mom. Leave it.”
“Do as your Mother says.” God save me from these turbulent parents! There’s some fruit there that’s not completely rotten -
“Okay?”
“Hmm. Good enough. Now, what are we to do today? Your Father and I would quite like -“
“I’ve got business this morning. You’ll have to entertain yourselves. There’s a decent pub, an eatery, a bakery, the Market Square -“
“Your Mother and I will accompany you on your business.” Oh, great.
“Well - stay at the back of the Church and keep quiet! Right? Come on then!” Oh, for - they’re walking too slow! Sod it, they’ll just have to catch me up! Got to get to the Church before -
“Rector. Five minutes late, I see?” There she is - Mrs Hortense de Poissant. Her husband used to be called Fish, you know, until he came into money. Then she forced him to change it. How could she possibly know how late I am? Judging time is a challenge at best these days. There’s night and there’s day. There’s light and there’s darkness. And in the middle is a whole lot of guessing. Oh, sure, we have timepieces, but they rely on accuracy. And who’s to say one timepiece is more accurate than another? Ah, semantics. Bugger it - right, unlocking the Church.
“Oh, Rector? ‘Ow about a little snifta?” That’s Ida Cornway. Wow. Sounds like she’s got a few wines in her already. The younger one? She’s Millicent Brankenridge. New money, it’s said. Her husband’s a self-made man, I believe. Never mind, it’s largely six of one, half a dozen of the other, and time’s pushing forward like Ida Cornway rolling down an embankment - trust me, in her day, that woman knew far too many hedgerows, if you catch my drift. I mean she was a floozie. Look, I don’t have the time for compassion. It’s them or me. And I love me. I’m largely indifferent to them.
Wine. Wine. Where’s the bloody wine? I usually hide it, but Flit has a nose for grapes, you know? Probably because he looks like one. Trust me, he really is ugly. See, I only have to turn my back for a minute and he’s off, with the bottle, nesting under the pulpit. And when that happens - trust me, it’s best to just let him finish it and sleep it off. Otherwise - well, let me put it this way; have you ever tried to prise a bone from a wolfhound? Well, don't bother. It’s pointless and you get covered in buckets of slobber. Much like you do with Flit. And no one wants to be covered in Flit slobber. Ah! Here we go! Luckily Flit hasn't noticed this one.
“Here we are ladies!” One for her - and her - and her. Not forgetting little old me! And - oh, I nearly forgot about them. If only.
“Don’t worry, Willie. Your Father and I will be back here. Pay us no mind.” Yes, I’ve been trying to do that for the last forty odd years! Oh, just look at that sourness, “Wine? At this time of the day? Are you sure? Oh, hello there! This is my husband, Eric, and I’m Maud. Willie here is our little Son!”
“Mrs Hortense de Poissant. Charmed. This is my friend Mrs Ida Cornway and the flighty girl there is Millicent Brankenridge.”
“Nice to meet some of Willie’s friends at last! He never tells us about himself, you know.” Thanks for that, Dad.
“I’m not sure we are counted as friends, Mr Posster? Acquaintances I believe would be more apt?”
Yes, Dad. Stop interrupting.
“So, what is it? A meeting or something?”
“The Rector is kind enough to spend some of his time on our spiritual succour.”
“Well, I never -“
“Mom -“
“Do you hear this, Eric? You hear what your Son is up to?”
“I did, Maud. And I’m not sure it’s appropriate.”
And here comes Ida Cornway with her bloody opinion, “We’m ‘ere ter ‘elp the Rector, yer know, with ‘is ideas?” Wow. That slip in accent happened quick.
“What she means is the Rector was thinking of expanding the Church, and wanted to see if we could aid him in his endeavours. We have so much to give in the cause of charity and the dear Rector here,” Ooh. Hand on the arm there, from Millicent, “He has so many people yet to feel his light. Isn’t that right, Rector?” Ah, and a smile! If it didn't spoil the whole caper, I’d roger her right there, over the font. Phwoar! And I bet she’s filthy with it! Her husband always seems worn out. Lucky sod.
“Ah, that’s our Willie. Always - generous.” What’s that supposed to mean?
“What’s that supposed to mean, Mom? Hey Dad? Tell her?”
“She meant nothing by it.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes, fine, thank you, Mrs de Poissant. Mom, Dad? Will you excuse us a minute or two, ladies? Help yourself to more wine! Right, you two, come with me!” This is all getting too much. And I can’t have these two spoiling my plans. Right. In here they go!
“You’re barred!” Ah, I see Ranker’s better. More’s the pity.
“Don’t worry. I’m not stopping. Just dropping off two parents. Then I’m gone.”
“Well - okay then. Oh, Hermione said her Will’s gone missing. Know anything about it?”
“Me? I know nothing but the will of God, Ranker. And that’s enough.” That got him. He’ll be thinking about that one for a while. Time enough for me to scarper. Got some extorting to do, haven’t I? Back to the - right, this is on purpose now, surely? I mean - well, you know what I mean.
“Sticks.” Get there before he does.
“Darkness is coming Rector!”
“It usually does, at the end of the day.” I so want to be somewhere else right now?
“But this is darkness in the daytime. And they dance, and creep, and swallow the goiter of condemnation. They near us, Rector. And there is nothing you nor I can do about it.” Well, right now I can walk away, you lunatic. There is that. No - don’t - follow - and - ah! There you go! Back inside the Church! Lucky escape. Oh yes. Nearly forgot. The ladies.
“Are your Father and Mother alright, Rector? They seem a little - unusual.” Oh, you have no idea how true those words are, Mrs Fish.
“Trust me, Mrs de Poissant they’re more than fine. I left them in the - erm - Rectory! That’s it! Cock’s Finger?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A snack. Or a slice of pie?”
“No, we’re fine, thank you Rector.” You say that, but it very much looks like Ida Cornway could’ve done with a little Cock’s Finger. Oh, calm down! It’s a pastry sweet, you dirty minded people! “If we could return to the business at hand? I have to leave soon, to instruct the servants in how to prepare the food correctly for supper. They’re a simple lot. I’m sure you understand?” Oh, yes, Hortense. I certainly do understand. Then don’t be surprised when crooked people like me take you for every drop of cash your unfortunate husband has earned, for comments such as that. You know, I may be a villain, but I’m a fair one! So have at it, you harlot! Oh, that’s right. The con.
“You know me, ladies. I abhor the discussion of money.” That’s true. I prefer to have it than bloody talk about it.
“Oh, we know, Rector. But the Church has so many people that require the attention of such a holy man as you.”
“Thank you for your kind words, Millicent. But it remains a burden on us to participate in an unGodly world, where the heathen requires payment for all things.” I know, I know. Even I’m getting bored. But it has to be done. Look, it’s not your neck on the line, is it? So for a while I’m required to fawn over the obtuse, the souse and the flighty. Relax. It’ll be over soon. At least that’s what I told her! No? Thought that might lighten the mood a bit -
“Yam a right sort yam are! Come ‘ere me little star! ‘Ave some jam!”
“Really, Mrs Cornway, I’ve enough already!” I do. You should see how many jars I’ve got in the vestry! I could probably start a small shop back there if I wanted.
“Never ‘erts to ‘ave some more!” There’s two opinions on that. And yours is wrong Ida.
“Rector? The Bishop mentioned something about an incident -“ Where did that come from?
“Oh, Mrs de Poissant! You don’t strike me as the type to listen to scandalous rumours? Surely -“ Oh great. Here they come. That didn’t last long.
“I see your parents have returned?”
“It would seem so. Sorry Mrs de Poissant?”
“One should never apologise for their parents, Rector. They, however should, for themselves. I see now, as you have often told us, of your uncouth upbringing. But they have not destroyed that spirit within. For that you are to be commended, Rector.”
“It’s nice of you to say, Mrs de Poissant -“
“Willie? Are you in there? It’s a bit dark?”
“Course he is, Maud, you great lump. The door would be locked if he wasn’t.”
“Eric Posster! Don't you dare call me -“
“Yes, Mom, Dad. Will you excuse me ladies?” Okay. Here we go. Times come. Cue the music, “What is it you want? Sorry to be blunt, but I don't have time right now to minister to you and Dad.”
“You hear that Father? You hear how your son talks to his Mother?”
“I’m standing right here, Maud. Of course I did.”
“Rector?” And here’s the clincher.
“Mrs de Poissant?”
“We see how busy you are, so I have spoken to the other ladies and we have agreed. Here.” Oh yes! You get that? The whiff of money? Delicious, isn't it?
“I’m sorry, ladies. And I thank you, most humbly for your donation to the Church!”
“You are most welcome, Rector!” Ah, Millicent Brankenridge. She smells of it too, like a wealthy perfume. The odour of money is sweeter than - oh sod it, who cares! I got the money!
“Now, don't be a stranger, Rector! And ‘eres some jam! Get it down yer!”
“Thank you, Mrs Cornway. I will, indeed - get it down me. Thank you for coming, ladies!” Right, that’s done and them gone! Time to secure the cash! The parents? You’re right, “Okay, get out, you two.” That’s them out too, and - the Church is locked! Actually, that wasn't too bad of a day, was it? Seems a bit - I don't know - short?
Oh well, places to be, people to see! Now to pay off the Roundabouts! What was that? Aren’t I forgetting my parents? Well, now -
Fooled you!
Confused? Well, let me explain. As it happens, I don't know who my actual parents are. Or where they are. Those two, in fact, are Maud and Eric Wendegrass who I met once in Frannary, a town some ten miles that way from here. I’ve not got a clue what they really do, and I don't think I want to. Still, what a lark, eh? And here comes the man from the Roundabouts! At last, I can pay them off, and -
Hang on - where’s the purse? I had it in my hand, then I locked the Church, then - Oh, bloody Hell! Oh, I don't believe it! Those devious, evil, disreputable bastards! What I need at a time like this is - Flit?! Flit! Where are you Flit?! I desperately need to thrash you to within an inch of your nethers! Flit?!? Shit! Forget it! I’ve got to get the Hell out of here!
Let me tell you, even as I turn tail and run, the Wendegrass’s better be running faster. I’m going to get my pound of flesh, even if I have to carve it out of that evil woman’s hide - with that man’s teeth!
No, no. Calmer heads are needed here. Right, where would I be if I were a snivelling insect of a crook? That’s right! In Church! Wait, that doesn't sound right - Okay. Where would they be, then? Aha!
Damn. Hope against hope, I thought if I just declared it, the picture would enter my mind. I’ll have to do it the long way, I suppose. First, the pub. The smell of blah blah, the texture of etcetera etcetera -
“Flit!” Wouldn't you believe it? The hairy carbuncle returns! “Where the Hell have you been - I know! I’m barred! But - hang on, isn't Flit barred too? Shit, sorry Flit. No, wait a minute! Where have you been? Just when I needed you! Take that!” It’s the only way they learn, you know. I’d take him by the scruff of the neck and march him back to the Rectory, but I don't want to touch him. I feel dirty enough already.
“It was your parents. Sent me on an errand.”
“How many times, you dolt, they aren't my parents! They were part of the con I finished not a few minutes ago, remember? Except they’ve scarpered with the dosh.”
“Sounds bad.”
“Well, thanks for that, Lord of Understatement! Did you not see the bloody Roundabout?! He’s come for the money I owe them!”
“So?” So? So?!
“Do - I - have - to keep hitting you until it sinks into that tiny vegetable of a brain? I don't have it! They stole it!”
“Right, well, you’re buggered then.” So help me -
“Think about this, you little undulant turd, if I go down, then who in God’s name is going to employ you? If by some miracle someone does, you might have to do some actual work -“ That got him! Like a bloody hound, this one, when he’s got the scent! And all it needed was a little motivation. He’s off! Perhaps I should’ve put a leash about his neck - oh, never mind. He’ll tire himself out soon. Just watch him go! I swear he is the product of a tryst betwixt a dog and a hedgerow. That or his parents are siblings.
“Well, Posster. Fancy meeting you here?”
Oh, like I need this right now, “Dash. It’s really not the time -“
“I don't know if it’s ever the time, Posster. But let me ask you - What really happened to His Lordship? I mean, you were the last to see him, weren’t you?”
“Me and Trish Treyne. Don't forget Trish Treyne.”
“How could I ever? But you’re dodging the question.”
“Dodging? Me? The question you say? Dodging the question?” Me?
“Yes, Posster. You. Like you were then.”
“Me? Then? Dodging is it?”
“Oh, forget it. I’ll just wait until the Magistrate arrives. Then we shall see.”
“See will we? When the Magistrate comes -“
“Enough, Posster! Just - oh, forget it! Pah!” There goes the easiest man to annoy. You should try it some time? It’s fun. Oh yes. The money.
Right, well, I think I should look around, at least. I mean, they might still be in town? It’s big enough and there’s plenty of places to hide. Nope, not at the Church. Rectory? They do have clothes there, I know. Wonder if Flit’s found anything yet? I mean, I would leave town, but then - well, you know - the story of the twenty days? Has to take place somewhere, and why not exclusively in this town? Besides, I don't have the inclination to travel, and these mind-sets aren't cheap, you know. Right. Not at the Rectory either, and the clothes are gone. Where else? You know, I think they said once they have friends in Worty Road? Let’s go see. Wow. The sound of battle is certainly loud today! Just a reminder, you know, in case you forgot there’s a war on? Anyway -
There he is! Ah, he’s just sitting there licking his - eww. No wait. That’s not Flit. That’s Flit. You can see how I get easily confused, can’t you? Here we are - Worty Road.
“Well, Flit?”
“They’re here, alright. First they went to the Rectory, then to the Market, then -“
“Alright, Flit. I don't need an itinerary.”
“Anyway, they’re down this road. Don't know which house though.” I can see what he means. The odour of feculent matter permeates - eww! I just stepped in some shit! Eww, eww, eww! There you go. There is a use for Flit’s coat after all.
“Right, well, you take that side, and I’ll take this side. Look for signs of the thieving, robbing, evil scum-like weasels. Other than the usual residents, of course.”
Nope. Nothing here. What about - nope. Come on! This is ridiculous! I wonder if I could tap the ladies again? Maybe? Damn it! I’m running out of time! No, it would never work again. I’ve bled that source dry. Besides, I would need parents again, and a whole new set-up with different ladies, and - so help me, when I find these felons, I’m going to tear them limb from limb -
“Nice day for it, Rector.” Oh shit! Who’s that? God, I nearly dropped dead then -
“Oh, Edward Mobbs. It’s you.” Thank God for that! It’s only - bugger. The Clubman! You know what this means. I’m in the proverbial.
“So, what brings a man such as you to this particular street?” Was that accusatory? It’s hard to tell. Ed Mobbs always sounds like he’s mid argument with someone.
“Oh, you know, religious stuff.”
“Really? Such as?” Oh, for God’s sake, bugger off! Before you spoil everything!
“So, how’s the Clubmen thing going? Enjoying your position as chief? Or whatever you call it?” Go away!
“Always alert, Rector. Always alert.” Nice. Lovely conversation. Now, bugger off! Where’s Flit going?
“Ah, well - uhm -“ Did Mobbs see Flit then? I bloody hope not.
“Was that your Curate, Rector?” Uh-oh.
“Where? Oh, that? I thought it was a small dog -“
“No, it was definitely your Curate. Has he business down there? And if so, why are you not with him?” You do like asking bloody questions, don’t you?
“Well, he’s - preparing the recipient for my administering.” Yes, that sounds plausible.
“And that’s a common thing, is it?” Oh, God, please open up a hole and swallow your lesser creature? No? Bugger - worth a try.
“This is a special case. Now, if you don't mind -“
“Oh, one other thing. I have been informed by a concerned citizen, that Lord Anthony Cheetham-Hewe of the County of Moistershire did not complete his obligations yesterday, and that you were the last to see him?” That doddery old git is going to be the death of me. Literally.
“And Trish Treyne. Why does everyone forget Trish Treyne?” Well said that man. Why do people forget Trish Treyne? Once seen, surely she is never forgotten?
“I am yet to question her. I simply wondered if there was something you could provide in the way of information?” Yes. I chucked him down a well, after Trish Treyne screwed him to death.
“No, sorry, Mr Mobbs. He asked for someone who could provide him with a - massage, and I remembered Trish Treyne saying something about she is good with her hands? I presume that was to what she was referring to?” That’s right, my boy! Remind him you're a naive God-fearing man of the cloth! You could get away with murder, you know - hopefully.
“Hmm. You are aware Trish Treyne is a - woman of ill repute?”
“You mean she - lies?” Hook line and bloody sinker!
“Something like that, but more - wait a minute, isn't that your Curate again? And why is he on the back of that cart, which is racing round that corner? Also, why is he attacking that middle-aged couple?” Wow. Thanks Mr Exposition. He is right, however. The little turd is only fighting them! Get ‘em Flit! Keep this up, and I might give you a pay raise! I said might. Tell you what, I’ll give him a pat on the back. No, that coat’s filthy. I’ll shake him by the hand - nope, not that either. Look, I just won’t kick him as hard, okay? Wait. I shouldn't make promises I can’t keep.
“So - it would seem. They are particularly in need of administering to, as you can see? Catholic tendencies, so I’m informed. Flit needs to - wrestle the spirit from them -“
“I don’t pretend to know the works of the Church and the Lord, Rector. Hang about. What was that? Something fell from the cart?” Something - fell? It’s the bag! It’s the bag of money those greedy, deceitful - whatever! I need to get to it before -
“So, in your opinion, Trish Treyne, the - lady of - the night is -“ Oh for all that’s holy! Let me get the bag, before - No! No, no, no! Shitsticks! The Roundabout Representative! Oh, just go away, Mobbs! Don’t you understand my life hangs in the balance - No! Don’t you dare! Get your filthy - what a bastard! He’s only gone and picked it up! Great! Now the Roundabouts have the money, but they've no idea it’s from me! He’s just walking away now! Flit! Get back here, you -
“Rector? Could I have your attention for a second -“ Oops! I shouldn't have done that! Punching a Clubman in the face! I could get - actually, you know what? He’s unconscious now, so why don't I do what I do best?
Run away!
When he comes round, I’m sure to have thought of an excuse by then. And if not, I’ll ply Flit with some wine and set him on Edward Mobbs.
Those seventeen days can’t come quick enough right now!
Flit!
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