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| The Man with the Light; Just a short story I started... | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 15 2007, 03:54 AM (4,285 Views) | |
| Turnip05 | Oct 15 2007, 03:54 AM Post #1 |
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Majestic Turnip
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Stanley Morris was the man who brought the light to the famous Renwick Banquet Halls. Stanley was the man people knew they could trust. He was the man that lit up everybody’s day. He was the man that you could readily rely on. Nobody could do his job better than himself - and many had certainly tried. Renwick Halls had hundreds of customers (and countless others on the waiting list) from the Lady Beatrice, wife of the renowned and very well-respected Lord Barson, who made use of the Central Grand Hall for her notable winter balls, to the small group of ever-changing cat lovers that met every month in the swish assembly room for a four course feast (including finely chopped tuna and fresh cream for the clubs dearly prized cat, Duchess). All through the year, rain or shine, Stanley was there, always attending ardently to the Halls everyday and keeping it out of the darkness. Indeed, Stanley lit the chandeliers. It was true he was the best, renowned for his attentiveness to his job, and he most certainly lit up everyone’s day; but no-one really cared. It was always the waiters in their elegant suits of black and up-turned noses that got the compliments. Always the suck-up stewards with their glass smiles and pleasing charm that earned the tips. No one cared for the man who climbed nervously, but determinedly, up the ridiculously rickety step ladders, lantern in one hand, splint in the other, and a large box of candles secured to his belt. The man who leant professionally out over the lamps to replace candles, light them and check for any unsafe damage done to the chains that suspended each bouquet of lamps from the ornate ceiling. He also did the single lamps that lined the carpeted corridors and smaller rooms, but the chandeliers were the important ones. Three huge ones ran the length of the Central Grand Hall, 32 lamps per chandelier, and the four slightly smaller chandeliers near the doors carried 12 lamps each. In all Stanley lit and replaced 144 candles in the Grand Hall alone, and another 100 single wall lamps around the building every evening. He got a decent wage and plenty of respect from the manager, but never anything else for his job. Sometimes, if he’d finished earlier than expected, he would peek into the ballrooms and watch the finely dressed ladies and handsomely rich gents dance beautifully underneath his work, unknowing of his efforts and never thinking of the people who worked hard to make everything just perfect for their night. Of course he couldn’t blame them. When you’re dancing away with your sweet lover, or dining beside your future business partner, why would the thought of the person who lit the candles ever enter your mind? No, he knew enough to not expect any admiration from the customers, but from the other workers, well, they could at least acknowledge his existence. Even those who did only did so to gloat about how much more respect and money they got than him. His job, although it sounded easy, was quite hard to do as quickly as he had to, and through years of practise, burns, and broken glass, he’d managed to find a system that got everything done in less than 2 hours and made sure the candles burnt all night. One night, near the end of his routine, when he was lighting the final lamp of the final chandelier in the Grand Hall, he found himself in the company of a small child. There, down on the marble tiles of the hall, stood a ragged looking girl with dirty blonde hair and a faded yellow frock, staring up at him curiously. ‘Should you be in here?’ he questioned her, stopping in his work. The girl shrugged, ‘Dunno.’ She certainly didn’t look like a child of a customer, or indeed one of the other workers, her dress was too filthy and no doubt her locks were greasy. Maybe she was homeless, he thought with pity, and was just looking for shelter. Nevertheless, he couldn’t let her stay - the manager would be furious with him! ‘Well, um, it might be best if you leave little one. People won’t like you being here…’ ‘But I’m not doing anything,’ she said defensively, hands on hips. ‘Well yes, but-’ he stopped and stared in alarm at the doors opposite, which were slowly beginning to open. In walked the manager, an ugly frown carved into his forehead, thick moustache twitching above his lip and glare so strong Stanley felt the walls should have started quivering in fright. He had overheard the Stewards saying that the manager had been in a bad mood all night because the Preston family had decided to hold their annual ball elsewhere, and he had lost a lot of money. Unfortunately, ‘elsewhere’ also happened to be Renwick Hall’s arch rival, Mallstrom House, and it hadn’t helped to improve his mood one bit. The manger seemed to open his mouth to speak as he strode angrily in, but when he saw the young girl it instantly shut, the frown deepening. ‘Mr. Morris!’ the man shouted, red faced, ‘what is the meaning of this? I came here thinking you’d be able to assure me these Halls were not on their way down, but here I find a, a strange child in our midst!’ Stanley prayed desperately for the girl not to make a sound and tried to find his tongue, ‘Well, um, she’s, well I thought I’d take on a young apprentice sir, to ah, to ah, pass on the job in case um, something happens to me, um, sir.’ That made sense, right? He thought desperately. ‘Sorry I didn’t tell you sir, but I um, thought I’d show her the place first, and er, what I do…’ he looked down at the manager with a worried smile. The manger did not smile back. ‘Who is she? You can’t just bring anybody up to be your apprentice Mr. Morris!’ ‘I’m his niece sir,’ the girl said to Stanley’s horror, stepping forward and braving the managers glare, ‘my mum wanted me out of the house and into a job of some sort ‘cause I got so many brothers, so she sent me to my Uncle Morris, sir.’ At least she was on his side, he thought, but is he going to believe us? The manager looked a little taken-a-back, but convinced none-the-less. ‘I’m Penny,’ she added, smiling sweetly. No doubt the manger was not used to being smiled sweetly at, and he seemed somewhat flustered, ‘I see. Well then, er, carry on, I guess. Glad to see you’re making arrangements for your…future, Stanley. Seems everything’s in order here, must be going, lots to do…’ the manager glanced at them both before he left and quietly shut the double doors behind him. Penny giggled. ‘He was a funny man.’ ‘He was the manager,’ Stanley said as he climbed back down the stepladder having finally lit the last lamp, ‘and that was close.’ The girl just laughed again, ‘You were so nervous and stuttering so much I thought we’d never get out of it. You can’t lie very well can you?’ ‘I shouldn’t have to lie,’ he sighed, wiping his forehead, ‘and you shouldn’t have been here.’ He walked across the room to a nearby chair where he had left his coat and proceeded to put it on. Turning around he saw the girl had followed him. ‘So…can I really be your apprentice?’ she said with a hopeful smile. ‘What? No!’ ‘But your manager’ll get suspicious if I don’t turn up tomorrow.’ ‘Yes well, I can just tell him your mother wanted you back. He’ll probably be glad to hear it,’ he said sternly, turning away and walking towards the door. The girl didn’t reply and he didn’t hear any footsteps following. When he turned round she was still standing by the stepladder, looking up at the chandelier he'd lit last. ‘Oh well, back to the street.' she said quietly, 'sorry mister, didn’t mean to nearly get you in trouble.’ She turned away with her head down and began to walk over the tiles to the opposite door, battered shoes squeaking slightly on the smooth surface. Stanley watched her for a moment, then sighed, giving in to his softer side, ‘Wait.’ Penny swivelled round slowly and looked back at him. ‘I'm not promising to make you an apprentice, but at least let me find you a place to sleep. I know a place you can stay.’ 'Really?' her eyes lit up, 'you ain't just sayin' that? He couldn't help but chuckle, 'I don't think I'd forgive myself if I just left you. And anyways, you were walking the wrong way...' I may continue this, but it was mainly just fun. Inspired by the chandeliers I saw when I went to the Assembly Rooms in my town. Any thoughts you have, I'll be glad to hear
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| Woo | Oct 16 2007, 03:24 AM Post #2 |
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Queen of all! bow before my might!
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its real nice. I like it a lot, a sweet little story with a rustic charm to it. delightfull!
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| Idiot | Oct 16 2007, 08:41 AM Post #3 |
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Brackenwood Lightweight
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Woww!! Heh, that's great. Really nice piece of work, I like it. Are you thinking about taking it any further? It seems like there's a lot of potential there, if not for a novel then at least a very respectable short story. I love it when something like this turns up...
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| Turnip05 | Oct 18 2007, 07:14 AM Post #4 |
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Majestic Turnip
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Thanks very much both of you *hugs*
This might have a few awkward sentences in it since I haven't checked it over properly, but at least it's the second part. Hope you like Mrs. Gladys had taken in the young girl in a flash, to Stanley‘s relief, and blessed Mr. Morris for being so kind as to look after the poor love. Soon, after one chaotic and frantic hour, Mrs. Gladys had washed and scrubbed poor Penny red and raw, rinsed out her greasy hair and set up a bed in the little room under the stairs for her to sleep in. The pure brutal force of the woman’s organisation and maternity had kept the young girl quiet throughout most of the evening, and only when she was shown her new room did she really speak. ‘Thanks!’ she had suddenly cried and, to Stanley’s astonishment, turned and hugged both him and Mrs. Gladys, cheeks flushed and happy smile spread across her face, ‘thank you so much!’ With one of her grins, she had bounced into the little cove and buried herself in the thick blankets with delight. Satisfied that she was happy, Stanley had said good night to Mrs. Gladys and went up the stairs to his rented room. Mrs. Gladys ran a good, respectable lodging house with her husband and was a well valued woman in the community, renowned for her hospitality and practical prices. At the moment only a few others were renting rooms, a short lady accountant in the attic room who only seemed to be seen after nine o‘ clock in the evenings, and the strange man who claimed to be an ‘artist’ in the room opposite. Stanley didn’t ask about him. Overall he had a good deal with a small, but comfortable room, a cup of tea in the mornings, and full use of the kitchen after six. He was quite happy with his situation, although he had to admit it wasn’t very exciting. Maybe I could take in Penny as an apprentice, he thought as he dressed for bed, I’ll just start her off carrying the candle box at first and show her a few things afterwards with the spare lamps. It can‘t be too hard, and its not like I‘ve got much to lose… It did not seem quite so simple as Stanley had hoped, and after her initial enthusiasm the young girl had expressed when first told, she had began to grow more irritated by the second when the job actually started. ‘It’s so boring,’ she had whined after about quarter of an hour, ‘when can I do something proper?’ ‘This is proper - you’re being helpful to me. That’s what apprentices do when they start.’ Penny just sighed heavily and emphasised her boredom by swinging the box around and humming mindlessly. Now it was Stanley’s turn to sigh. ‘Look, I never said it would be fun. The more you behave the more stuff I’ll trust you to do, so just act appropriately.’ Alas, his words had no effect, and only until it came to the big chandeliers did she show an interest. ‘Oh! Can I climb up and do just one?’ Stanley looked down at her from his great height and gave in with a sigh. She had been at it all the way through the first chandelier, nagging him endlessly with a repetitive drone of ‘please’s and ‘just one’s. ‘Fine,’ he muttered irritably. Slowly he descended the creaky steps and handed her a splint. ‘Now be careful not to burn yourself. I’ve already put the new candles in, so all you’ve got to do is light the splint from the other cand-’ ‘-yeah, yeah,’ she cut in, waving a hand and scrambling up the ladders, ‘I’m not a baby. I can light candles.’ He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes wearily. Something was going to go wrong now he just knew it. But then everybody learns from their mistakes, so why stop her? Her feet scrambled for the top block on the stepladder, and with her tongue peeking out from the side of her mouth, she leaned over each lamp in turn, carefully lighting them with a slowness that made Stanley twitch. I could do that ten times as fast he thought impatiently, possibly with my eyes closed I’ve done it that many times. But he knew he was being childish and unreasonable as he looked up at the giant ornate clock on the wall. They had plenty of time, and she was just learning. He may as well let her do the next chandelier for practise as she wasn’t going to learn any other way besides trying for herself. Infact, he let her do all four of the small ones, although on the last there had been a bit of a problem. With a yelp, she had dropped the splint and burnt herself, jerking Stanley from his daydreaming. ‘Morris? I think I’ve burnt me self’ she had called worriedly. ‘It’s Stanley, Stanley not Morris. Morris is my last name, and don’t worry, just come down from the ladder and I’ll send you along to the kitchen to sort it out,’ he had called back, picking up the dropped splint and dousing the flame speedily. With a look of uneasiness, she had quickly skipped down the stepladder as told, and murmuring sorry she trotted across the hall towards the kitchens. ‘Don’t worry, just ask for a lady named Gloria and tell them you burnt yourself. She’ll sort you out Penny.’ Whilst she was gone he started on the last of the chandeliers and the couple of lamps she hadn’t managed to do on the smaller one. Soon she came back with a damp cloth wound round her hand. ‘Sorry,’ she said sheepishly. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said with a smile, ‘I did it all the time when I was younger.’ Penny said nothing, but stood watching him work until everything was done and the stepladders put away, clinging grimly to the cold cloth and obviously feeling stupid. Eventually they went back home having dropped the cloth back off at the kitchens, and were instantly greeted by Mrs. Gladys at the door. ‘Well, how’d it go my little pumpkin?’ she had asked Penny brightly as they walked in through the door, but the girl said nothing and went off inside. ‘Everything went fine Mrs. Gladys,’ Stanley said with a concerned frown, ‘I don’t know what’s got into her. She just got a little burn once near the end. Nobody made a big deal or anything, so…’ he sighed tiredly and shrugged at the woman’s perplexed expression. They both looked anxiously at her little room under the stairs where she had went off to, and said nothing. ‘Oh well,‘ Mrs. Gladys said after a while, ‘children don’t half act funny at times, ay Mr. Morris? I suppose she’ll be back to normal tomorrow.’ ‘I hope so,’ he replied with a sigh, walking into the kitchen to make some tea, ‘I liked her better when she was chirpy, even if she did whine…’ |
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| Turnip05 | Oct 23 2007, 07:07 AM Post #5 |
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Majestic Turnip
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Seems I'll have to double-post, so sorry
Finished a third piece Not sure about how it ends, I think it's a bit rushed and I can't think of much else, so this is what you get... The next day Penny seemed to have brightened up, and was chatting happily away to Mrs. Gladys when Stanley came down for breakfast. She spent her day cheerfully helping Mrs. Gladys around the house, washing dishes and putting out the laundry with a spirited enthusiasm, and only when it came to going to the Halls in the evening did she lose her typical liveliness. ‘What’s wrong?’ he said as they walked through the entrance, noticing her sudden gloom, ‘I thought you wanted to be an apprentice.’ ‘I do, it’s nothin’. I’m just tired,’ she murmured, keeping her eyes on the ground. They started on the hallways first, and as she had done well on the chandeliers, he offered Penny the job of lighting the first corridor. But her face fell and she shook her head. ‘I don’t want to burn me self again,’ she said hurriedly, trying to give a hopeful smile. Stanley couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Burns aren’t that bad! Just pop along now to the kitchens for a damp cloth so you don’t have to worry.’ She shook her head so violently he thought it would fall off her shoulders. ‘No!’ He looked at her for a moment in puzzlement then spoke. ‘Fine, I’ll go get the cloth, you start your work.’ Penny nodded eagerly to this and went off to the storage cupboard where the things were kept. What there was to fear in the kitchens Stanley couldn’t guess, and as he opened the doors he found himself facing the cheerful Gloria, face bright red from the constant bustle of work and untidy chestnut hair bundled up into a clumsy hair net. ‘Oh! Stanley! What can I do for you?’ ‘Just a damp cloth for Penny ‘cause she doesn’t want to burn herself again,’ he said gazing round at the hot, busy room. Well there were no upsetting lumps of blood-covered meat hanging from the ceiling, or anybody doing anything vile. Infact, the place looked rather happy with it’s many groups of young and old cooks, enthusiastically shouting at each other and enjoying their work with a mystifying passion. ‘And, um, did anything happen yesterday when Penny came?’ he added. Gloria frowned, taking a shabby cloth from a hook on the wall and running it under a nearby tap, ‘not that I’m aware of, and I’m often aware of everything. Why d’you ask?’ ‘Well, it’s just that she’s been acting a bit odd lately, and it seems as though she’s scared to come back to the kitchen.’ He took the damp rag from her and watched as she turned back to her work at a nearby bench, picking up a knife and starting to slice a horde of vegetables with professional swiftness. ‘Hmm…Well Icertainly didn’t do anything, and nobody shouted at her for being here,’ she said over the loud clangs and bangs of the kitchen, fingers still moving at high speed as she half turned to face him. Gloria was a multitasking marvel Stanley had heard, and as she talked he couldn’t help put keep flicking his eyes down to watch her hands that seemed to be leading a life of their own, deftly chopping cucumbers and carrots without the assistance of her eyes. ‘And I only left her with the two new boys that came last week whilst I got…the cloth…’ the blade suddenly stopped and landed a mere millimetre away from her thumb as she broke off. Stanley winced. ‘Oh sweet barnacles! It was those two!,’ she cried suddenly, turning round to face him properly, ‘they were saying something to her when I turned away, and although I wasn’t really listening, I was sure I heard sniggers. They’ve both got sharp tongues those cheeky mites and no doubt they were making fun. They’re quite nasty when they want to be!’ her eyes promptly began scan the room and eventually fell on two young lads in the corner, not looking very criminal, but certainly smirking about something as they washed dishes over a large, industrial sized sink. ‘I’ll keep an eye on them if she comes in here again Stanley,’ she said meaningfully, scowling at them, ‘I’m not one to allow bullying in this room.’ ‘Right,’ he said appreciatively, ‘thanks Gloria.’ He got back to the corridor to find it was already half lit, little Penny leaning up to the next lamp, a pink tongue poking out the side of her mouth in concentration as she scraped out the old candle wax. ‘You’ve done a good job so far,’ he said smiling at her encouragingly, ‘especially since you were only watching me yesterday. Oh, and I got the cloth.’ ‘Thanks,’ she said, dropping the melted fat into a bucket by her feet that she must have procured from the cupboard. He decided it would be best not to mention the boys from the kitchen, and set to work beside her. The night carried on as normally as it could with an eleven year old at your heels, and Stanley once again let her do the four small chandeliers in the Grand Hall, but getting out the second step ladder so he could do the big ones at the same time. Whilst Penny did the lamps well, she didn’t do them quickly, and it meant his usual routine was now having to have two hands at the job. He didn’t really mind though. It was nice to have someone to talk to. She seemed happy too, especially since Mrs. Gladys had found some old clothes in her airing cupboard earlier that day, and had let Penny choose a new dress to wear instead of her faded, and rather dirty, yellow frock. She had trundled around all day happily, playing with the pretty green buttons and running her hands along the fancy laced hem. It was like she’d never had decent clothes before, Stanley had thought to himself, and sadly, it was probably true. He’d never mentioned her life on the street to her before, not wanting to patronize or possibly make her unhappy, but he couldn’t help feeling curious. Whatever her life had been like, she was eager to get out of it and helped Mrs. Gladys around the lodging house to pay for taking up room and food. Of course, the Gladys’s would help her even if she didn’t, but it showed that Penny wasn’t ungrateful. The following days went by and Penny grew more and more used to the routine at the Halls, although she still wouldn’t go in the kitchen and she got a little lost at times in the maze of corridors. In the mornings and afternoons when Stanley wasn’t out gardening for somebody (a job he did for a little extra money and because he had the spare time) he showed Penny his little techniques at the lodging house with some spare lamps in hope it would speed up her work. Soon she was making steady progress, and by the end of the week she had been officially and affectionately named the ‘Little Candle Assistant’ by the other staff. She was greeted with little waves and smiles each evening by the stewards, who were also starting to warm to Stanley as well, and affectionately made a fuss of by the waiters. She claimed she didn’t like the extra attention, sticking her tongue out at them when they‘d turned away and calling them names behind their backs, but sometimes Stanley swore he caught a real smile. This new interest in Penny also meant people were more pleasant to Stanley too, and shortly the stewards were asking him how he was every evening and inviting him out to drink with them sometimes, the once snide remarks being replaced by kind gestures. He wasn’t sure whether it was just because they truly wanted to be friendly, or because they wanted to look good in front of Penny, but he went along with them to enjoy it while it lasted. Time went by and soon Stanley and Penny had also built up a proper friendship between themselves. It made the evenings easier and spending time in each others company less awkward, but it also meant that Stanley felt a bit more protective of her. The two boys from the kitchen found themselves being watched carefully by him whenever they came near, and the walks back home through the city’s streets in the dark of the night became more of a guarding of Penny than a walk home. Unfortunately, when Stanley’s recent snivel of a cold turned into a horrible flu and hot fever, which confided him to his room for the whole day, it meant he was stressing himself out over the young girl rather than looking after himself. ‘But she can’t do it on her own! What if she gets hurt?’ he exclaimed to Mrs. Gladys that afternoon on the subject of the job at the Halls. ‘There are other people in the building that am sure would help ‘er if something like that ‘appened, Mr. Morris,’ she told him with a sigh, ‘And from what I’ve heard she can do the round by ‘erself quite easily. You taught ‘er what to do right?’ ‘Well, yes,’ Stanley murmured, shuffling against the thick pile of cushions he was sat up against and sniffing. ‘Then she should be fine. No need for worries,’ and with that Mrs. Gladys turned round to leave the room. Suddenly Stanley sat up. ‘What about going home? She can’t go home on her own!’ he cried. The older woman sighed irritably and swivelled back round to face him. ‘I’ll ask one of the stewards to bring ‘er home when I walk ‘er down. Someone will be willin’ I’m sure, so pipe down Mr. Morris and eat yer soup!’ ‘I still don’t like the idea of her doing it alone,’ he said reluctantly, taking the bowl of chicken soup from his bedside table and balancing it awkwardly on his lap. ‘Yes,’ Mrs. Gladys said, opening the door, ‘You’ve been drivin’ me round the bend tellin’ me that for the past few minutes Mr. Morris. Just keep to yer bed and hush now.’ The door closed with a slam and Stanley sighed. The evening wore on and Stanley lay in his bed trying to ignore the fearsome pulse aching in his head. He had stopped sneezing at least, but he was still feeling dreadfully ill and full of worry for Penny. He kept thinking about her falling off the rickety step ladders and having no-one to catch her, fragile bones braking against the hard marble tiles. He thought of the two kitchen boys mocking her as she worked her way through the maze of corridors, sneering at her and making her cry. He tried to sleep it off, but new worries kept arriving in his head, jerking him from his slumber and making him restless. What if she tried to go home on her own, in the dark and got lost? What if she dropped a splint and managed to catch her dress on fire? Irrational fears played around his head, until finally, he fell asleep out of exhaustion… He awoke suddenly to the unexpected sound of his bedroom door being thrust open, the metal handle banging off the wall and shaking the room with a clang. There stood Mrs. Gladys in the doorway, round face lined with worry and hands clasped to her apron-covered bosom. ‘Oh Mr. Morris!’ she cried, ‘somethin’s happened!’ |
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| Stonemonk | Oct 25 2007, 09:19 PM Post #6 |
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Brackenwood Lightweight
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I refuse to let you finish it there. My sheer willpower on the matter will win. Write more or suffer the terrible consequences. Brilliant. I loved every line. |
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| Turnip05 | Oct 27 2007, 10:16 PM Post #7 |
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Majestic Turnip
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Thanks very much Stonemonk! That really gave me a confidence boost
This part is a bit shorter than the others, but it'll possibly take me a while to carry it on so I thought I may as well post the first part. Hope it's up to scratch... He shot straight up with a cry, ‘What?’ ‘Oh! It’s Penny!’ Mrs. Gladys exclaimed, ‘She keeps frettin’ like something really bad’s happened, but won’t say what it is. I can’t get any sense out of what she’s tellin’ me and it’s startin’ to get me all flustered. She keeps sayin’ your going to be so angry with her!’ ‘You mean she’s not hurt?’ ‘What? Well no, she ain’t mentioned hurting herself…’ Stanley sighed in relief, ‘I thought you meant something god awful had happened to her when you came bursting in like that. Gave me the fright of my life!’ Mrs. Gladys bit her lip, ‘Sorry Mr. Morris but, well, one of the things she keeps saying is that something bad might happen to you.’ At that moment Penny appeared behind the bulk of Mrs. Gladys, unhurt and intact as he had been told, although a little pale. ‘Penny, what did you do?’ he asked anxiously as she hurried into the room and round to the side of the bed. The young girl looked as troubled as the old woman and stood there restlessly, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. ‘Well…I did everything right, nothin’ set on fire or anything but…’ she glanced up at him and gave him an uneasy look, ‘well I…I sort of didn’t do things quick enough and I was still doin’ the big chandelier when the people came…’ Stanley blinked, ‘Well that isn’t that bad, I mean the manager would have just come and apologised to them and sent them out for a couple of min-’ ‘The manager wasn’t there,’ she cut in hurriedly, ‘it was just one of the stewards, and they didn’t know what to do when they saw me so everyone was coming in and starting to make a fuss.’ she squirmed as she stood there, pulling a face, ‘I don’t know what they were sayin’ but some of them were smilin’ at me and no one was shoutin’ so I just got on with it. All I could think about is that they must have been able to look up me skirt…’ Stanley burst out laughing and Penny went red. ‘It’s not funny!’ she said kicking his bed post. ‘Oh come on, why are you so worried? No one was bothered and you said you were on the last chandelier, so it can’t have taken you that long.’ ‘Let me finish! After I’d got down from the step ladders they all came over and started asking questions about why I was there, and how I was working so young. So I told them about you taking me in as an apprentice and how you were ill so I had to do the round all by me self. ‘I tried to go then, but they kept pestering me and saying that they were going to put my story in some sort of…’ she screwed up her face,’ weekly newsletter? I dunno, but it sounded fancy. Anyway, they asked when you’d be in and I said in a couple of days maybe, ‘cause you really don’t look very well, and they told me they wanted to meet you and ask some questions, saying it was very sweet of you to take me in and that you must have a hard job doing every single light in the Halls, and…’ she stopped and frowned, ‘I dunno, but they kept asking questions even when their party thing started and I couldn’t get away, and I didn’t want them to come and do the same to you, but they were already coming to see you anyways, and I got all worried…’ There was silence and Penny stood there staring at the cracks in the floorboards. ‘It just wasn’t nice and I didn’t think you’d want to be questioned by them either,’ she said gloomily. Stanley opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by Mrs. Gladys. ‘Did these people happen to be a man and women? Both tall, dark haired?’ she asked walking up to them. ‘Um, yeah. The lady was called Tetra Lansdale, I think. Why?‘ Mrs. Gladys bit her lip again and gave Stanley a worried look, ‘Those two run a newsletter amongst the posh nobs about ‘the people’, and I’ve heard rumours that they twist people’s words, make up stories about them and then spread it around with this newsletter of theirs. Like Penny said, they aren’t very nice, although they try to act it. If you do have to talk to them, be particularly careful about what you say and hope they really do want to make it a ‘sweet little story’. Otherwise Penny’s right to be frettin’. They could say absolutely anythin’ about you, and people would believe them. Rumours spread far, and if it’s bad your manager may not like his Renwick Halls tarnished with gossip and cut your job.’ Stanley took this in quietly. ‘They can really make me lose my job?’ Mrs. Gladys nodded. He tried not to look too bothered for Penny’s sake, and shrugged. ‘It won’t get that bad I’m sure,’ he said smiling at her, ‘and anyways, nobody’ll let that happen, because they’ll lose their ‘little candle assistant’ if they do,’ She smiled back, but he could see she wasn’t convinced. But then, neither was he. He sighed. ‘Just don’t worry over it Penny and get some sleep. I bet they don’t even turn up…’ Thanks to everybody who reads this
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| Idiot | Oct 29 2007, 12:04 AM Post #8 |
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Brackenwood Lightweight
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Wheee! What happens next? WE MUST KNOW. |
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| Turnip05 | Nov 2 2007, 06:20 AM Post #9 |
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Majestic Turnip
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They did turn up. Stanley had felt far better the next few nights, all symptoms of the cold now mild and his fever gone completely, and on the third evening of his return they found themselves greeted with the Lansdale couple as they walked out the Hall’s grand double-doors to go home. ‘Oh! Little Penny!’ the woman had crooned as she spotted them, ‘And I suppose this is the young man, Morris?’ ‘It’s Stanley, not Morris. Morris is my last name,’ Stanley said wearily. The phrase was beginning to form automatically on his tongue whenever that happened. ‘Sorry sir, beg your pardon sir,’ she said cheerfully, reaching into her long, expensive looking navy blue coat and bringing out a small pad of paper and a sharp pencil. ‘No doubt Penny told you of our encounter?’ the man said, also trying to look cheerful, but there was something not quite right about that smile. It seemed to resemble that of a cat that had found its prey and was eagerly anticipating how it tasted, instead of the sweet, innocent smile of general mirth. ‘Oh er, yes. It’s unfortunate I wasn’t there with her that night,’ he said, feeling Penny step closer to him. ‘Well, I’m Donald Lansdale and this is my wife, Tetra Lansdale. We run a short newsletter amongst our company about little occurrences like poor Penny here experienced.’ the false smile grew beneath his thick moustache, ‘we were wondering if we could just ask a few questions about your job Mr. Morris. I’m sure it’ll be an ample opportunity to show the higher community what splendid work you do here at the Renwick Banquet Halls!’ ‘Oh, well er,’ he glanced behind Donald at his wife, who was watching him expectantly, pencil poised a few inches above the paper notebook, eyebrows raised eagerly. ‘What can I say? I mean, I just clean out the used lamps, pop a new candle in, and then light it. Not hard. Pretty boring too,’ he said, hoping to drive them away. ‘Oh, but we’ve heard you do it in record breaking time Mr. Morris!’ Mr. Lansdale cried, ‘There’s no need to be so modest.’ ‘I heard you start work at five and go home at seven,’ the other half said, ‘only two hours of work, and the candles stay alight all night.’ They’re trying to flatter me, Stanley thought, I’ve got to avoid letting my tongue slip before I say something…twistable. ‘Yeah well, any candle lighter can do that. It’s how we earn our money, right?’ For a moment he saw an uneasy glance pass between the couple, but they pulled themselves together in an instance and merely gave him two cat-like grins. They know my game. ‘Well I’m sure you know your job well Mr. Morris, but little Penny here has only just started, am I right?’ ‘Um, yes, I took her in as an apprentice about three weeks ago.’ ‘Oh? How did you come across one another?’ For a moment Stanley panicked as he looked into those false faces, trying to find an answer that would lead to no questions, cursing himself as he realized he was probably showing his alarm through his wide eyed expression. ‘I’m his niece,’ Penny quickly said, raising her head and gripping Stanley’s arm, ‘my mother wanted to get me out of the house and into some proper work, so she sent me to my Uncle Stanley.’ Of course! The lie we told the manager and staff…that means we’ve got people to confirm it too, so no catch there… ‘Are you close to your sister then Mr. Morris? If she trusts you with her daughter?’ ‘Definably!’ Stanley lied, ‘we’ve always gotten on well.’ Too many lies in your web boy and you’ll find yourself strangled with your own threads of deceit! came the cracked old voice of the late Nanny Coutt from the depths of his mind. He tried to ignore it. It was just a little lie, and they were hardly going to search every street in the city to find and question Magda Morris. Nanny Coutt had been barmy anyways, and spent her last days roaming around cornfields declaring she was the King of Spoons. ‘Even when you were younger? No little squabbles about who got the last biscuit or glass of milk?’ Mrs. Lansdale inquired. ‘Well, of course. Only natural, right?’ ‘Of course Mr. Morris, only natural.’ Something was scribbled quickly on the notepad and the couple glanced at each other. A silent conversation took place between them and after a few seconds Donald looked back to him with a smile, his wife tucking the little pencil and pad into her coat pocket again. ‘Just one last question Mr. Morris before we leave you to your business. Where was it you grew up? It sounds a little odd I know,’ the tall man chuckled, ‘but people might relate if little details are included in the article. Makes things just that bit more…special.’ Stanley paused, wondering if he should lie. But then what harm could it honestly do? ‘Just in the old Dustin Lanes.’ ‘So you’re a true city boy then Mr. Morris?’ Stanley saw Mrs. Lansdale twitch, obviously wanting to drag out the notebook again. ‘Yes, yes, but I think I better go Mr. Lansdale. The Gladys’ will be worrying, and Penny’s getting cold feet.’ ‘You take residence at the Gladys Lodging House?’ Shut up! ‘Oh yes. Practical prices, comfortable room and whatnot,’ Stanley said, slowly backing away with a grin, ‘but it is getting dark Mr. Lansdale, can’t hang around.’ ‘Of course, of course. Very sorry to keep you. Good night, and thank you for the information…’ The cat grin spread across the man’s pale face one last time and the couple turned away, polished shoes clicking on the hard cobble stones of the road as they began a steady pace towards the brightly lit windows of the western sprawl of the city. Stanley and Penny watched them walk for a while, wondering if everything had actually gone well at all, or whether their names would be discussed in hushed whispers and bitter tongues after the week was done, rumours spread far and wide. ‘Come on Penny,’ Stanley said gently, not liking to see such a serious look of concern on the young child’s face, ‘no doubt Mrs. Gladys’ll have kept some mushroom soup for us, steaming away in that big cauldron of hers.’ Penny grinned at the thought, ‘can’t let her eat it all herself...’ They laughed at each other and made their way back home eagerly, uneasy thoughts of the Lansdale’s now pushed into the backs of their minds, petty and insignificant. Life was chugging along fine for now. What real harm could a couple of gossips do? Silently, as the young girl and man made their happy way home, two wicked minds walked alongside each other in the opposite direction. ‘He didn’t like us.’ the woman stated. ‘No. He knew what we wanted. He had…prepared himself.’ came her husbands answer. The woman sighed irritably. ‘We’ll just have to make it a little one off story then. There wasn’t anything scandalous about that Mr. Morris, or Penny. They certainly kept their tongues tied.’ Mr Lansdale laughed, ‘Why darling I’m surprised! I thought you were an expert at this. Surely you noticed Mr. Morris’ disquieting hesitation when we asked him how he came across little Penny?’ The mans dark green eyes lit up. ‘They’re hiding something, and we need to find it out...’ Mrs. Lansdale stopped in her tracks and grinned her cat-like grin. ‘And he mentioned a sister too…what if it’s lies?’ The excitement rose dangerously in her voice. ‘What if Penny isn’t even related? What if this sister doesn’t even exist? What if, oh, what if his sister is real? What if this sister of his will tell us so much more? Reveal to us shameful secrets! Oh! So many tales could come of this!’ Mr. Lansdale took his restless wife’s hand and quietly made her walk again. ‘Yes darling. We’ll pay a visit to Dustin Lanes tomorrow and ask after the Morris family.’ ‘And we’ll find the lies!’ the woman cried happily, clapping her hands together in glee like a child in a sweet shop. ‘Yes dear,’ the man said, stroking the backs of his wife’s gloved hands, soothing her sudden unrest, ‘we’ll find the lies and scandal and draw them all out one, by, one…’ Sorry for such big chunks of words, but I'm not to good at deciding what's a paragraph and what's not The dialogue was quite fun to play with, especially when I was so hyper after watching Waterlollies
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| Turnip05 | Nov 9 2007, 06:42 AM Post #10 |
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Majestic Turnip
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[size=1]Sorry for double post![/size] I've been really busy with music and school recently, so I've had barely any time to work on this Not too sure about this next part or the ending - but as I said I haven't really had the amount of time I'd usually like to have, but I got something done! Stanley smelled the towels as instructed, sniffing heavily as he still had a bit of a cold, and yes. They did smell of smoke. ‘I can’t believe every single bit of washin’ now stinks, I really can’t!’ Mrs. Gladys cried to her husband, and possibly Stanley although she wasn’t looking his way. ‘Some bugger done set up a bonfire and made everythin’ smoky!’ Penny was now sniffing her green dress sleeves, frowning. ‘I don’t smell nothin‘.’ Stanley sat back in his chair and sighed. ‘Well, the towels certainly smell, but that doesn’t matter much does it? The smell’ll wash away next time you clean them.’ ‘Don’t sound so sure you little sparrow! It was a nightmare of a cloud that came streamin’ through the garden.’ Mr. Gladys merely looked on all this in general bemusement, the way he dealt with most things. It was as if he had married his wife for the sheer entertainment it brought him. ‘I’ll be asking all the neighbours if they had the same problem and then I can sign a proper complaint!’ Mrs Gladys said haughtily, bundling up the towels angrily. Her husband took her shoulder before she left the room and chuckled. ‘And who, my sweet Helen, will you complain to?’ His wife stopped and pulled a face at him. ‘Oh never you mind!’ Mrs. Gladys said grumpily, shaking off his hand and striding out of the room. Mr. Gladys grinned after her and winked at Stanley. ‘Managed to get that newsletter you asked for by the way Mr. Morris,’ he said, pulling a folded up, and rather crumpled, piece of paper from one of his numerous jacket pockets. ’Got a bit mucky I’m afraid. Shouldn’t have had it near me cup of tea to be quite honest. Silly thing to do…’ Stanley took the newsletter from Mr. Gladys pink, plump hand and unfolded it anxiously. It was quite a long stretch of paper to Stanley‘s surprise, reaching way down past his knees when it was unfolded. He’d seen it before with its fancy curly lettering in the corner shop window on Breuw Street as a child, but as he had never been taught how to read until he started his apprenticeship, he only recognized it from the little drooping tree that was inked in blue above the once undecipherable title. Now he could see it was named ‘The Blue Willow Courier’. He glanced through the huge splatter of brown that must have been Mr. Gladys’ tea stain, and began to read through the only article that could have possibly been related to him… The Man With The Light Many of us have heard of, or even experienced the outstanding hospitality of the Renwick Banquet Halls, very well known for its high status popularity and famous Grand Hall. But I find myself not writing to tell you of a spectacular event that took place in its fantastic assembly rooms there this past week, or even of the celebrated Barson Winter Ball plans, but about a young man and his girl apprentice. Stanley Morris and his little niece Penny are a perfect pair for the difficult and unfortunately unrecognised task of lighting the 300 candle lamps that shine each and every evening around the corridors and passages of the Renwick Halls, including the seven magnificent crystal chandeliers that hang from the ceiling of the Grand Hall. Loyal and hardworking, Mr. Morris (23) tells us that he ‘simply cleans out the lamps, pops a new candle in, and lights it.’ But these modest claims will not justify his record breaking speed and ardent ability in getting his job done. Swift, and still teaching his niece along the way, he starts work at 5 o’ clock and sets off for home at 7, getting better still every week, even beating Malstrom House’s Diane Grange‘s record of two hours and thirty minutes to light and clean two hundred and fifty candles. From his apprentice days until now, Stanley has dutifully stood by the Renwick Halls manager, Mr. Forster, and kept its high reputation steady with such a seemingly simple job. Of course, the young apprentice Penny (11) must take her own prize for her hard work and bravery, climbing rickety step ladders to clean and replace the candles of chandeliers, wobbling determinedly on her tip-toes to reach out to each diamond glass lamp. Indeed, this was how we found her on our first meeting last Tuesday. Having valiantly took on the laborious lighting of lamps all on her own that night because of her uncles illness, Penny had mistimed her tasks and was quickly finishing her work when our party arrived for our evening entertainment. A little shocked, but hardly angry, we let her carry on and applauded her accomplishment as she came hurriedly down the rungs of her step ladders in humble embarrassment. That such a young girl should readily take on such a great responsibility by herself is a wonderful hope and model for future generations! Both Stanley and Penny are truly a shining example to us all, showing that although they are considered ‘little people’ in their realm of work, they can contribute just as much energy and devotion as any other staff at the Renwick Banquet Halls. Surely we should learn to appreciate the little jobs that would be missed very much if we didn‘t have people like Stanley and Penny to work so hard. Let us make certain these people feel our praise and thanks for bringing a little light to our evenings, so thank you Stanley and Penny! Tetra Lansdale for the Blue Willow Courier By the time Stanley had finished reading, his face was flushed with both praise and relief. ‘Seems everything did go well then, eh Penny?’ he said, smiling happily over his shoulder at where she was standing just behind him. ‘What? We’re in the clear?’ she said excitedly. ‘Well, yes. Didn’t you read it?’ he asked in puzzlement, ‘I thought that was what you were doing…’ She gave him a curious look. ‘Stanley. I can’t read.’ ‘Oh…’ He coughed. ‘Anyways, seems we can forget about those Lansdale crooks now,’ he said grinning, ‘hopefully they’ll not ask us anymore irksome questions and leave us damn well alone!’ He laughed and began to fold up the newsletter, still grinning merrily. He felt so relieved. There he was, thinking he was going to lose his job because of some silly words in an article written by a couple of fancy gossips. How many people that worked in the Renwick Banquet Halls would read the Blue Willow Courier anyways? Like Mrs. Gladys said, it was for the posh nobs, not us ‘little people‘. ‘What did they say about us? Or was there nothing?’ Penny suddenly asked. ‘Oh, um, should I read it to you?’ She nodded and sat down on the chair opposite him, leaning her elbows on the old wooden table and watching him unfold the newsletter again. ‘The Man with the Light,’ he began, and felt himself relax as he read it back through to Penny… Nothing to worry about, he thought with a smile, listening to Penny laugh at the part about her being a niece. We might even be somewhat more popular with the others now. Those kitchen boy’s will leave Penny alone now as well, which‘ll certainly make things better for her… Oh. And pay rises are a good thing too... Thanks to any who read! - even if you don't post
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| Woo | Nov 10 2007, 10:59 PM Post #11 |
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Queen of all! bow before my might!
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YAY! I love it! *big hug* |
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| Lazarus_the_2nd | Nov 11 2007, 04:55 AM Post #12 |
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Brackenwood Lightweight
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Very impressive! I like the detailed characters. This puts the story I'm writting to shame. :angry: :lol: |
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| Turnip05 | Nov 13 2007, 07:36 AM Post #13 |
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Majestic Turnip
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Thanks a lot Woo and Lazarus
You're too kind!*gives big hug back* Mmkay, here's the next part... The fire was burning nicely and the young woman settled herself snugly in her cushioned arm chair as she waited for the kettle to boil. It was only a few moments later when a quick succession of rapid knocks came on the door, disturbing her peaceful wait. ‘What is it?’ she cried impatiently, opening the door violently and nearly knocking over the two people standing on her doorstep. ‘Ah, very sorry to disturb you ma’am,’ said the man, bowing slightly, recovering quickly from his initial alarm. ‘Are you Magda Morris?’ ‘Aye,’ the woman said, standing up to her full height of six foot and raising her dark eyebrows, ‘proud to be so.’ ‘Very good! We’d just like to ask you a few questions about your brother Stanley and daughter Penny. We work for ‘The Blue Willow Courier’ and recently came across them at the Renwick Banquet Halls.’ ‘We wrote an article about the good, hard work they do there in yesterday‘s addition,’ added the woman, bringing out a pad of paper and pencil from her coat. Magda’s eyebrows remained raised. ‘I don’t have no daughter, and no man to have her with.’ The couple glanced at each other with two cat like grins, ‘but I most certainly have a little brother named Stanley. Nasty little bugger he was too.’ ‘Oh really?’ Tetra said in mock shock, ‘we were told that Penny was sent by you to work with Stanley because there were problems at home.’ ‘And from what we heard of Stanley, well, he seemed such a nice young lad!’ added her husband. Magda laughed, and beckoned them in with a smirk. ‘Sounds just like my Stanley to lie his way out of trouble. And who knows who that Penny is? Not that I’m suggesting anything mind you…’ ‘Of course not Miss. Morris…’ The Lansdale’s took no hesitation in following the woman in. She was their type of person. A snitcher, a gossiper, and full of scandalous information as long as nothing was mentioned of her own. ‘I can’t tell you anything about the girl - never heard of her - but I can tell you about my little Stanley,’ the woman said, seating them on a couple of stools by the bench and taking the whistling kettle off the fire, making tea and grinning a grin. ‘Oh I can tell you lots about my little Stanley…’ ‘All done!’ Penny said happily as she leaped from the last rung of the step ladder, the box of candles tied around her waist bouncing dangerously with the movement. The evening had gone well. It seemed everyone had read the article, and if they hadn’t, someone had pinned it up on the board outside the kitchen, proudly posting it on top of everything else. Almost as soon as they had walked through the door they were being patted on the back and thrown bright smiles by the stewards and waiters. Gloria had come out to see them too, and had given them some sort of exotic sweet roll when she was on her break, beaming cheerfully and saying ‘it was about time you got the attention you deserved!’ Best of all was the heavier pay packet Stanley had been promised at the end of the week by the manager. Renwick Banquet Halls had gone up in reputation because of the article, and Malstrom House had lost its usual first place. The old man couldn’t have beamed any brighter as he told the two of them. ‘Right then,’ Stanley said, untying the candle box from her waist and putting it beside the lantern on a nearby table. ‘just need to shift the step ladders. Go get Alfie will you?’ Penny nodded and scurried away across the marble tiles. Alfie was a broad shouldered giant with muscles like iron and a neck the size of a trunk. How he ended up a cook, Stanley had no idea, but he was useful when you needed to lift ridiculous sized constructions like the two wooden step ladders, so no-one complained. He smiled as the young girl skidded out of the hall doors. Seemed she wasn’t scared to go in the kitchen anymore. Usually she would have cowered at the suggestion of going there and asking for anyone, stubbornly declaring she would look after the stuff instead. The scrubber lads, as Gloria so fondly called them, sometimes jeered out of the doorway if Penny went past with her bucket and splint Stanley had heard. Maybe she had thought up a good retaliation with this little boost of confidence the story had given her… She came back happily a few minutes later with the huge figure of Alfie by her side, a smug smile spread across her freckled face. ‘I’ll go put the stuff back Stanley,’ she said as soon as they got near, scooping up the boxes and buckets with one arm and the lantern with the other. ‘Fine, but be careful!’ he called loudly as she skidded back out the doors again, lantern swinging alarmingly. The doors closed with a clunk, and he heard a cut off curse. ‘Heard you’s in some newsletter,’ Alfie murmured suddenly, his deep voice pronouncing each syllable steadily and purposefully. He may have given the impression of being stupid to a passer-by, but really he was only a little slow. ‘Got a good pay rise am guessin’?’ ‘Yeah,’ Stanley said with a grunt, taking one side of the step ladders carefully as Alfie took the other. ‘Must be mighty fine.’ came Alfie’s slow rumble from behind the thick wood, ‘and Penny wus grinnin’ like a monkey when she came through those doors. Said somethin’ to the little wash boys and set their faces all ugly.’ The heavy bulk of the step ladders shook as the big man laughed. ‘Won’t be anymore name callin’ through the doors anymore I don’t think.’ Stanley grinned. There was silence as they heaved the step ladders into their resting place on the ceiling shelves of the nearby storeroom, occasionally punctuated by curses as elbows were whacked against doorways and heads against low cupboards. They managed to get it back up with a bit of effort as they did every night, and Penny joined them after disposing of the lighting equipment. Stanley and Penny headed off for the entrance hall with a quick thanks to Alfie, but suddenly they both felt a hand on their shoulder as they turned away. ‘Don’t…let your guard down,’ the huge man rumbled quietly, ‘I dealt with those Lansdale’s before, and they’s sneaky little people. Put your hopes up, and then crack ‘em like a nut.‘ His fist hit his palm with a heavy 'thud' before placing his hands back on their shoulders. ‘They have tricks up one another’s sleeves, so just be careful. Okay?’ With that Alfie let go with a meaningful nod and trudged off down the hall with a slow lumber, leaving the two to simply watch him. Stanley wet his dry mouth and patted Penny on the arm as he finally turned away from the retreating figure of Alfie. ‘Come on. I think we better get home.’ The girl said nothing and merely followed his lead. Only when they got out into the frosty night air did she look up at him and speak. ‘Is that really true? Are they gonna tell people nasty things about us like they wanted too after all the nice things they said?’ He looked at her sadly and turned away. ‘I…I don’t know. It’s not certain Penny. Alfie was just giving us a warning ‘cause he had a bit of trouble with them a few years back.’ He sighed and shrugged his coat up to his neck to keep away the chill. ‘Let’s just hope that they are gone and finished with us, okay? No use worrying. Can’t do anything now…’ But the rest of the walk home was deathly silent, and neither would admit how very worried they were… |
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| Turnip05 | Nov 17 2007, 07:50 AM Post #14 |
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Majestic Turnip
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[size=1]sorry for the double-post[/size] Got another part done. It's a little more serious than the others, but I wanted to get why Stanley's so worried across properly. Hope you like and enjoy - and thanks for reading Hands had been shook with a neat ‘clink’, and Magda had waved farewell by the door with the grinning grin still on her face as she watched the couple walk away with their cat like smiles. ‘My little Stanley…’ she murmured with a chuckle, closing the door and collecting the used tea-cups from the bench. ‘What a good little boy you’ve become…’ Her eyes wandered around the old house they had grown-up in as she filled the sink for washing, memories lifting from the back of her mind. ‘…and what a bad little boy you were…’ She could still picture him standing there from all those years ago, scolded by father for the mud on his face and the blood on his knuckles, glaring up at the older man with dark, angry eyes and dirty blonde hair all messed up from the fights. Mother came to him next, rubbing feverishly at the three dark spots on his left cheek, his birthmark that she always declared was the devils sign, that her son was no more than a challenging left by bad spirits. Magda had be sitting silently in the corner, watching as her brother took a slap from Father with no more than a flicker of his eye lids. Stanley had taken more than that before, and as he said so with a defiant grin, Father had clenched his fist and brought it cracking against his sons face with force and power, violently lifting the young boy off his feet. They learnt later that his nose had been broken, with a permanent kink to prove it, but at the time Stanley had only spat blood and picked himself up. He was quite strong for his age, and grabbing the nearest thing at hand, had struck Father back across the legs with the heavy pot bellied kettle that had been sitting over the stove. The impact shattered the older mans right knee cap, and tumbling down in shock, his leg and ankle twisted painfully. It would be an injury that would maim him for the rest of his days, the injury that would lose his job, and the injury that would eventually cripple the Morris family with money and food problems, forever setting a dark and heavy cloud over their little ‘devil son’ Stanley. As screams and curses were bellowed and their mother screeched in terror, Magda had watched her little brother drop the black kettle and run, run in fury and disgrace out of the door with his thin blood spattered jacket and crushed nose, turning back only once for the smallest of seconds, revealing a face of pure horror and fear that she would never forget… Life had been very different after that, and it seemed now Stanley had picked himself up and mended the error of his old ways, a changed man. But not changed enough for Magda. Not enough for their dead parents. You deserve whatever you get Stanley, she thought bitterly as the sun began to set, casting long shadows of the chimney tops over Dustin Lane and flooding the cloudy sky with a dark red-orange. You ruined our life and now we‘ll do the same to you… Mrs Gladys glanced at the young man worriedly, watching his face twist with frustration. ‘They’re long gone if you ask me, Stanley,’ she tried to comfort, ‘it’s been three days, and work’s been great! I bet it was just a one off, and Alfie’s was just warnin’ you. It wasn’t definite my little pumpkin.’ ‘But that’s the point,’ he said looking up at her wearily, ‘They’ll plan to leave us alone for a while, then pounce when everything’s getting good. Makes the blow more crushing right?’ The older woman sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. They’d been talking like this for over half an hour and she couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore. ‘Just…just let it go for a while. If something’ happens, it happens Stanley.’ With that she strode out of the kitchen and suddenly came across Penny in the hallway, dressed in her over-large nightshirt, bare feet, and looking rather drowsy. ‘Can’t sleep,’ she murmured as way of explanation for her late night wandering. ‘Same with your master. He’s sittin’ in the kitchen worrying his socks off about those Lansdale people, silly man.’ ‘Mmm.’ Penny stumbled blearily to the door and peered at Stanley who was sitting at the table, eyes staring distantly at the single candle that was slowly burning in the darkness. He didn’t even look up as she came closer, her movements somewhat stiff from lying in her little cupboard bed. ‘Hey.’ ‘Hmm? Oh. Penny.’ He stretched his arms wide in a yawn and pulled them back behind his head as he breathed back out again. ‘Can’t sleep?’ he asked. ‘I guess.’ She shuffled her feet on the cold stone tiles. ‘Miss Gladys said you were worryin‘.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘What’s the worse they can find out?’ the young girl said giggling, ‘that were not actually related? That won’t cause too much trouble.’ But Stanley merely turned away silently and made to get out of his chair. Suddenly he felt Penny grab his sleeve. ‘Did you do something once?’ she whispered. He stopped and looked down at her young honest face. ‘I’ve done bad things too, Stanley. Real bad things. But it doesn’t matter, ‘cause I’ve changed now right? It doesn’t matter what they say, ‘cause I’ve changed and I’m not what I was. They can’t prove that I’m bad now, just like if you’ve done bad things they can‘t prove you‘re the same now.’ Her hand slipped away but her gaze stayed. ‘You’re real nice Stanley, you ain’t got a bad mark on you as far as I’m concerned, but I know you were little once, and when you’re little you ain’t quite right in the head. Don’t understand life and what can happen. You do stupid things. It’s how you learn and become what you are. Right? That’s what I know…’ He said nothing and stood up. ‘Whatever those Lansdale people find out about you or me, us, if they find anything’ at all, I’m not gonna care. And I hope you wouldn’t care if they found out about me either.’ To his shock she took his hand and held the palm facing upwards. ‘So we’ll make a promise to each other okay?’ she said with a grin, ‘the proper way right. Blood and spit.’ He couldn’t help but smile back at the idea. ‘We’ll promise that whatever happens - if anythin’ does happen - that we’ll not hold grudges against each other or change our feelings, right? That’ll stop you worryin’ quite so much, right?’ ‘Right,’ he found himself saying, taking her free hand in his own as the tradition held. ‘Right,’ Penny answered back, and with a nod they bent over slightly and spat in each others palm, shaking hands with a grimace at the horrible wet sensation. ‘By my own spit and blood,’ they said together, still clasping hands, ‘I declare that our bonds have been made. Let nothing come between our promise and may the dangerous paths we take never lead to treachery. We shall keep our trust faithfully. This, we do solemnly swear.’ Penny laughed, and took her hand back, wiping it on her night shirt with a grin. Stanley couldn’t help but laugh himself as he wiped his own hand and, he had to admit, felt a lot better about things now. ‘Yuck. I’m gonna go wash me hand and try an’ get back to sleep.’ she said, turning to him with a quick pirouette and putting her hands on her hips, raising her chin as Mrs. Gladys always did. ‘An’ your gonna do the same! Although you don’t have to wash your hand if you don’t want-’ ‘-Believe me I do-’ ‘-then you can get to bed ‘cause you’ve got gardenin’ to do tomorrow! Chop, chop!’ She giggled and gave him a cheeky grin, scurrying off out of the kitchen and down the hall, bare feet thumping lightly against the wooden floorboards, leaving Stanley to slowly follow her lead, smiling happily as he looked down at his hand… Yes, I feel a lot better now. |
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| Woo | Nov 18 2007, 03:10 AM Post #15 |
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Queen of all! bow before my might!
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yay! this is an awsome story! I wish I could write like this.
I absolutely love it.
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| Lazarus_the_2nd | Nov 18 2007, 07:43 AM Post #16 |
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Brackenwood Lightweight
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I feel like a kid waiting for a new comic! Hurry up! Next piece!
:angry:
:lol: Seriously though this is really good. |
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| Turnip05 | Nov 21 2007, 09:06 AM Post #17 |
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Majestic Turnip
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Aww, I feel so loved!
You guys are the best!Thanks so much! And I'm really glad you're enjoying this Next part - ‘There’s a cat.’ ‘A what?’ ‘A cat! Feline things with tails and go meow.’ Stanley chucked his feet off the table, nearly knocking over his cup of tea, and turned round in his chair to look at Penny. She was kneeling down by the backdoor, stroking a rather scrawny looking grey cat that was licking her fingers happily. She giggled. ‘I think it likes me.’ He grinned. ‘It’s probably just hungry and seeing if your tasty enough to eat.’ Penny pulled a face at him, but kept her fingers well clear. ‘Maybe I can call it Greywacke, like the rock or somethin’? They’re grey too...’ ‘And who says your calling the cat anything, eh little one?’ came a voice from the door suddenly. They turned to see Mr. Gladys standing there, carrying a tray of rhubarb in one hand and a bag of potatoes in the other, shaking his head. ‘I’m not having that fleabag in my house. It’ll get hairs everywhere!’ ‘I didn’t say I’d keep it Mr. Gladys,’ Penny said defensively, brushing herself down as she stood up, ‘I just thought I’d give it a name in case I saw it again.’ The cat purred and rubbed itself against her stockinged legs. The old man sighed and plonked himself on a chair next to Stanley, pushing the tray and bag onto the table. ‘Want me to get that newsletter for you again tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘Oh, yes please. I nearly forgot about it.’ ‘Righto...’ Penny managed to pick up the cat and wandered over to them. ‘Maybe I could spend some of that money you gave me on gettin’ it a collar or somethin‘. I’ve seen it around the neighbourhood quite a lot and nobody’s said it’s theirs.’ ‘I told you child, were not having a cat. And anyways, what you got money from?’ ‘Oh, I got a bit extra pay this week from work,‘ explained Stanley, ‘and I thought Penny deserved some of it since she does half the job, but she doesn’t know what to do with it.’ Mr. Gladys laughed, ‘Fancy not having anything you want to spend your money on! What about ribbons and shoes? My daughter Lily was daft about those, practically all she lived for.’ ‘Nah. My hair ain’t long enough to tie up properly and my shoes are fine,’ Penny said, sitting down at the table with them, letting the grey cat leap out of her arms, ‘I’m probably just going to save it for a rainy day. Whatever that means.’ ‘Heh, good lass. Get into saving early and you’ll grow up a treat…’ Stanley let them talk without him for a while and slowly found his thoughts leading to the worrying subject of the newsletter. There was still a piece of doubt in his mind that said the Lansdale’s weren’t finished with them yet, and the newsletter would be put on sale tomorrow. They asked me about where I lived didn’t they? Yet they didn’t use it in the article like they said they would…maybe that meant they would go back to Dustin Lanes for more information? ‘Can’t do any harm,’ I ‘d thought. Great. I wish I’d been less specific, or even lied, but I’ve never been very good at that. I bet Magda still lives in the old house as well, and plenty of people will still remember me from the Lane. I’ve probably left a scar to remind them, or a broken nose. Damnit. Why did I have to be such a brat when I was a kid? Why did I have to leave so many stories and bad memories behind? I wouldn’t be worrying so much now if I hadn’t, but then tell that to my younger self and I would have laughed in your face. Probably spat too. Although, like Penny said, nobody could say I was like that now. And it isn’t as if I’ve committed murder or liked the little girls too much. Surely my once bad reputation couldn’t make me lose my job now, or ruin my life completely, right? Suddenly, the cat came out of nowhere and jumped into his lap, jerking him out of his thoughts with a startled yelp. It stared up at him with its bright yellow eyes as Penny laughed. ‘Pulled you out of your day dreaming, eh lad?’ Mr. Gladys chuckled. ‘Hmm.’ He shooed the cat from off his knees and shook himself. He’d never really liked animals, especially when they climbed all over you. ‘You still fretting?’ Mr. Gladys asked with concern, ‘’twas an awful look of worry on your face.’ ‘I guess,’ the young man sighed, sitting back in his chair. Penny gave him a smile and held up her hand, a reminder of their promise a few nights back. It didn’t seem as much as a comfort now, and as Stanley returned the smile he felt a nervous lurch in his stomach. He wanted so badly to say he wasn’t nervous, but there was so much for them to find out about him, so much that would blacken his name again… The afternoon wore on and it soon came to the time for them to get to work. ‘Maybe we should mention we had some trouble with the Lansdale’s or something when we get there, do you think?’ Stanley found himself saying to Penny as they turned the corner into Renwick Street. ‘What?’ ‘I mean, just if something is printed tomorrow, so not as many people will be so mad about it, right?’ The young girl stopped and gave him a worried frown. ‘You really did do something’ bad didn’t you?’ Stanley hesitated for a moment, then carried on walking. ‘Sort of.’ Penny started after him again with a sigh. ‘There’s a lot of stuff I did when I was a kid that could give people the wrong opinion about me. I’m just a bit anxious I guess’ ‘A bit?‘ she scoffed irritably, ‘Just do what you want Stanley, I don’t care. I’m sick of you bein’ so fussy...’ They didn’t speak again until they were inside and getting on with the job, and even then she pulled faces at him when he did talk, obviously tired of his constant nervousness. Gloria met them later as they were about to start on the chandeliers, complaining about the ‘scrubber lads’ and offering them a couple of freshly baked mince pies, a nice break from Stanley‘s mutterings. ‘Think you’ll get another nice story from that Lansdale lady again this week?’ she asked suddenly during a mouthful of pie, causing Penny to cough and Stanley to stop awkwardly in mid-chew. ‘Um, well, I don’t think nice is the right word,’ Stanley said, swallowing down a chunk of pastry and patting the choking Penny on the back, ‘we er, had a bit of trouble with them a few days ago.’ ‘Oh.’ Gloria bit her lower lip with a concerned expression. ‘I do hope we don’t have another Alfie incident. That was so horrible for the poor man, especially with his wife and all…’ She fingered her slice of pie uncomfortably. ‘I didn’t realise you were having problems, wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise.’ ‘Don’t worry about it Gloria…’ ‘But really,’ she said, ‘I hope they don’t spread some nasty rumour like last time. Got the manager in such a twist, and some people still look at Alfie with a hint of mistrust. I don’t want that happening to you two, you don’t deserve it!’ Stanley said nothing and Penny glanced up at him. ‘I’m sure if they do write somethin’ nasty about us, it won’t be too bad,’ she said with a little smile, aware that Stanley was being difficult tonight, ‘but thanks anyway Gloria.’ The cook beamed happily and kindly said she’d help them out if something did come up, quickly gathering up the pie tray and bustling back to the kitchen as the clock clanged out the quarter hour, marking the end of her break… Soon the night was done and dusted, the walk home quick. Mrs. Gladys met them at the door as normal and gave them their tea as she always did, the usual routine only broken by the return of the grey cat that wandered in silently and merely sat on the mat mewing quietly as if hankering for something. Penny eventually sat and played with it for a while, pouring it a saucer of water and watching it noisily lap up the clear liquid with its tiny pink tongue whilst Stanley went up to his room to try and get an early night. The morning gardening had obviously weared him out, and he was grateful to find himself drifting off easily, despite his unshakable anxieties about the next day. However, his dreams haunted him as he slept, and running through treacle in a purple nightmare world, he watched inky blue tongues slip out from between the teeth of cat like grins, slowly but surely sneaking up behind him with a horrible slithering motion, eventually wrapping round his waist tightly and squeezing until he began to sputter out nonsensical words. A fist came out from the darkness and cracked his nose as he was suddenly dropped, and looking up he saw the broad face of Magda as she was all those years ago, dark curly hair falling around her shoulders and towering over him with her tall, stocky figure. A big, black iron kettle appeared behind her, its heavy, solid build suddenly all he could focus on, and without a word she picked it up and swung… |
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| Turnip05 | Nov 23 2007, 08:29 AM Post #18 |
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Majestic Turnip
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[size=1]Guess what? Sorry for double-post![/size] This part's got quite a bit of talking and Penny's thoughts in it, so I don't know if it's really that interesting, but it's moving the story on Thanks for reading Penny was sitting with the now half-adopted cat on her lap, hands clutching the newsletter she couldn’t read, and waiting. Soon he would come in from the gardening, and then maybe things would begin to make sense in her head. Her eyes rose as the door opened, and to her ultimate surprise a strange skinny man came in, his clothes dull and cheap looking, blotched with bright smears of paint. They stared at each other for a while before the he shook his head and went to the kitchen sink, washing his hands slowly under the cold running water. For a moment he hovered with wet hands and glanced around for a towel. ‘There’ll be a tea towel in the draw,’ Penny found herself saying. The man blinked at her. ‘Um. The one underneath the top cupboard nearest to you.’ He nodded and opened it up carefully, acting as if it had a mouth full of teeth and liable to bite. Then, reaching in cautiously and lifting out Mrs. Gladys favourite red chequered cloth, he began to gently dry his spindly hands one finger at a time and hum a mindless tune. Penny watched this in fascination, trying not to laugh or stare, but just quietly watching his slow, deliberate, and somewhat mesmerizing movements. He looked up and gave her a wide closed smile, nodding to the newsletter. ‘You read?’ he asked, his voice louder and deeper than she had expected. ‘Oh um, no.’ ‘Shall I read it to you then?’ ‘N-no, I’m okay. I know what it says,’ she stuttered, feeling her cheeks flush as he merely smiled at her again. ‘It’s the Blue Willow Courier isn’t it? I read that this morning.’ She wasn’t sure if she was expected to answer, but the man continued anyway. ‘Poor Mr. Morris. They’ve got him in a twist. Found out how he was and dragged it all back for him I expect.’ ‘Oh. He…he doesn’t know yet. That’s why I’m sittin’ here, waitin’ for him to come back from gardening.’ He nodded and gently hung the tea towel on a hook by the sink. ‘It’s not fair to mark him as such a crook, although it’s all true. He really changed after the incident with his father. Went away and got an apprenticeship and sent money back to the family every week. I watched him some mornings, sliding the envelope under the door. Don’t think his parents were very grateful though.’ There was silence and Penny began to feel uncomfortable, eventually focusing on the grey mewing cat on her lap instead of the strange man’s words. She didn’t like the Stanley she’d heard about in the newsletter when Mr. Gladys had read it to her. It didn’t fit, it seemed so blatantly wrong. She’d keep her promise - it wasn’t that bad - but she’d expected it to just be one big incident that was the cause of all the fuss, like stealing money from a rich man, or perhaps starting a great fire in an important factory, just being a simple arsonist. Instead she found it was what he was, who he was throughout his childhood, this violent child that had upset so many lives, this completely unknown personality in him that was what kept him up at night fretting. Something that he had buried deep inside, hidden from people’s eyes, kept shameful and secret. ‘How did you know him?’ she asked, trying to warm the still, awkward silence, ‘did you live in the same street? Or…?’ The man gave another wide smile and rubbed his arm absent-mindedly, ’Yes, we lived in the same lane. He gave me a beautiful purple bruise once when I picked up his jumper by mistake after a game of Block-’ All of a sudden, the latch on the back door lifted with a noisy clunk and Stanley walked through the door, scuffing his feet on the worn out scrub mat as he hastily shut the door behind him. ‘Bloody freezing out there,’ he muttered, and then realised he had an audience. ‘Oh.’ As Stanley frowned at the unusual scene before him, the strange man stepped forward and calmly took the newsletter from Penny’s hands, the quirky smile still spread across his ghostly pale face. ‘The news isn’t good Mr. Morris, but I doubt anyone in this house cares. I believe the only trouble will be set off at work.’ Stanley blinked before everything clicked in his brain and he quickly took the paper from the artists hands, scouring through the text and nibbling his lower lip as he read. After a few moments he looked away and groaned. ‘Magda, Magda, Magda…’ He slumped against the back door. ‘Damnit. They found her.’ Penny stood up as he began to read again, shooing the cat away and coming over quietly. ‘I don’t think there’ll be much fuss at the Halls, Stanley.’ she said, watching his worried face, ‘I mean it shouldn’t be enough to harm the manager’s reputation, right?’ He didn’t reply immediately, and when he did he shook his head sadly. ‘The manager likes everything to be perfect. You remember how he acted when he first found you in the Grand Hall with me at the start? How angry he was? He really doesn’t like anything to be amiss.’ He went back to reading and gave a couple more groans. ‘They even got little Richard Stumpkins as well. Damnit this is bad…’ He finally finished and sighed heavily, dropping the newsletter on the kitchen bench, burying his face in his hands and shaking his head again. ‘I’m really sorry about this Penny.’ ‘Why? It’s not your fault all this is happening, it’s those Lansdale’s!’ she cried, ‘and any ways, why you saying sorry to me? Nobody mentioned me in the article.’ ‘No, I mean if I lose my job, so do you. You can’t exactly be an apprentice anymore if your master don’t work.’ They stood together for a while, both sadly reflecting on the problem at hand. Suddenly Penny looked up and say the artist man had gone, alerting Stanley. ‘He just disappeared, like that!’ she said clicking her fingers and peering out into the hallway. ‘Francis always was a bit strange,’ Stanley said distractedly, ‘Had the weirdest way of moving too. Ended up punching him in the arm once ‘cause he did something or other - can’t remember what.’ ‘Take your jumper accidentally after a game of Block?’ she said, not able to stop herself from giggling a little at his expression. ‘Yeah! Wait? What?! How do you know?’ ‘He mentioned it before when he came into the kitchen. Said he wasn’t sure if you remembered him from the Lane. He said you’d changed after everythin’ with your father - sent them money and stuff,’ she added. ‘Oh…yeah. I did, but I don’t know if it helped. I sort of, wanted to amend things I guess.’ he laughed quietly, but it sounded pained, ‘a stupid thing to think, especially with how stubborn my parents were...’ He sighed and took a cup from the cupboard and pouring a drink of water from the jug on the window sill. ‘I don’t remember my parents much,’ Penny said softly, almost whispering, ‘they left me when I was four.’ Stanley tried not to show his instant pity, and kept his face turned away from her carefully, pretending to drink from his cup. ‘But then, I did have Ginny. She was great, like a big sister, ‘cept for the fact we looked nothin’ like each other. We used to go around together, share doorways, but we went separate ways before I met you.’ she watched the grey cat sit down at her feet and stare up at her with knowing yellow eyes. ‘Did you have anyone like that? Was your sister Magda ever nice to you?’ ‘No,’ he said flatly, ‘although when Mr. Hopkin took me in as an apprentice, I guess he was like an uncle or something, fixing me up right and proper. No more scuffs and fights after that…’ Stanley looked up at the clock on the wall and rubbed his forehead irritably. ‘Only an hour to go ‘till we have to get to the Halls. Great.’ But Penny just smiled and squeezed his hand, reminding him of their promise to each other. ‘Gloria said she’d help, so at least one person won’t judge you. And I’m sure Alfie’ll be sympathetic since he had trouble with them too.’ He grinned, ‘and you can sort out those scrubber lads if they decide to give us a mouthful.’ ‘Definably,’ she said, rubbing her hands together and grinning back. Stanley laughed, ‘Anyways, I better get out of these clothes. I probably stink of grass and those freak hydrangeas Mrs. Josephine bred from her carnivorous plants. I swear that woman’s more crazy every day…’ Penny giggled as she listened to him clomp up the stairs, glad he wasn’t fretting anymore and filled a saucer from the sink for the cat. ‘I’ll make sure to look after him tonight,’ she murmured to it quietly, stroking it behind it‘s pointy ears so it purred, ‘’cause there’s no way those Lansdale’s are gonna pull him down. 'We ain‘t gonna let them win this battle…’ |
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| Turnip05 | Nov 29 2007, 04:28 AM Post #19 |
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Majestic Turnip
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[size=1]heh, I got up to a triple post...[/size] Meh, school has lots of homework and my hands hurt so updates are later than usual (I think? Correct me if I'm wrong...) I hope ths is okay, and if it is - Enjoy The manager looked on them with his concrete frown, lips curled underneath his thick grey moustache and old hands clasped behind his back. ‘This new article by the Blue Willow Courier is less than pleasing Mr. Morris,’ the old man declared gruffly, shifting his gaze between Stanley and Penny as he spoke, ’although I must admit you seem to have learnt your lesson to this day. Unfortunately it has upset the reputation of the Renwick Halls, and I’m afraid certain things must be changed in order to correct the scales.’ He cleared his throat. ‘It is also most unnerving that you happened to lie to me about the status of your young apprentice here. If she is not your niece, Mr. Morris, then who is she?’ Stanley looked up from his feet and glanced at Penny. ‘She’s ur…she was just a girl who came in from the streets when I first came across her sir, but once I’d got her a place at the Gladys’s I decided she would do well as an apprentice.’ The old man grunted and threw up his arms in frustration, ‘Then why the lies about your relations, Mr. Morris!’ ‘Well sir, it just seemed…convenient at the time to establish that we were family. I guess that’s all...’ Stanley glanced down at Penny again, but she was still, as she had been throughout the whole conversation, staring a hole in the hallway carpet. The manager sighed irritably and turned away, the brief silence that followed filled with the dull background drone of ballroom music. The evening had been…unfriendly to Stanley and Penny. The instant distrust and closed feelings from the stewards had been enough to tell them that everything was already beginning to collapse in the Halls. The snide remarks were back, the whispers that seemed like a constant hiss over Stanley’s shoulder were grinding down through his skull, and Penny’s occasional smile and laughter seemed false comforts. When the manager came up to them at the end of the night, they were too downcast to fight back. Even Gloria, despite her word, had been taken aback by the article and exclaimed it was all horrible rumours to the kitchen staff before Stanley shook his head, and told her it was true. Suddenly she had had lost the colour in her cheeks and simply burbled something about ‘what’s done is done, things change,’ but her shock was evident and her eyes had flickered warily across his birthmark as she no doubt remembered the interview with Magda. ‘…Mother always said he was a devil child. Got those marks on his cheek to prove it!…’ A devil child. Yes. That’s what Mother had called him, her nipping little fingers plucking at his skin as if she could peel the three dark patches away like wet paper. She had been an odd woman and not much of a mother, forever paranoid and forgetful, her movements always skittery and nervous instead of sweet and soothing like the mother he had always wanted.. A heart attack had took her life, and somehow it seemed fitting to Stanley that such a timid woman should die that way. It may have been a tasteless thought, but she‘d been a rather tasteless woman. Whenever she had spoke her words had been insensitive, not caring that she offended with her careless tongue and small, twittering voice. ‘I’m afraid I shall have to cut your job for a couple of weeks, Mr. Morris,’ came the managers voice, cutting through his cloudy thoughts, ‘I can’t have such…disreputable ideas about my staff going around and making me look bad.’ ‘Of course, sir,’ Stanley said quietly, stomach sinking with a horribly slow, queasy feeling. ‘I thought that might be the case.’ ‘If things have blown over by then I will, of course, let you return.’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘You’re a very valuable man to the Renwick Banquet Halls, but your past…is not pleasant.’ ‘I understand, sir.’ ‘Even if it isn’t true, I’m afraid things must still be carried out this way. It’s the only way the Halls can manage to stay on top of the game I’m afraid.’ Stanley didn’t bother to answer, but he’d started to notice that the man had used ‘I’m afraid’ three times in the conversation. ‘Um.’ He looked up. ‘Sir?’ ‘I was just, just wondering if everything in the article was infact, strictly speaking…true?’ ‘Yes sir. I wish it wasn’t,’ Stanley sighed. He watched the managers face fall into the same shocked and perplexed expression that all those he had told had fallen into, and then let his gaze drop back to the carpeted floor. Everytime he had seen that look, whether it was from a stupid blubbering steward or one of the kindly pitying kitchen staff, the little wiggly creature of Guilt had squirmed, rising from the depths of his mind and bringing back all the bad memories and words that the newsletter had set off in his now terribly messed up head. The old man cleared his throat again, and as Stanley looked up again he felt the manager pat him stiffly on the shoulder. ‘Then I er…hope this clears up quickly for you,’ he said with an equally stiff voice. ‘…Thank you.’ With that the manager nodded and went off on his way down the passage, leaving the two candle lighters to watch him go silently. Stanley looked down to see Penny was still staring at the carpet, but didn’t say anything. Words just didn’t seem to want to come, and even at the best of times he found he could never manage to say anything that was in the least bit comforting. So he gave a little cough instead and gently nudged the young girl, giving a weak smile as she turned up to face him. To his complete surprise, he did not find the expected sad frown or worried smile on Penny’s face, but her very own impish grin, eyes gleaming and freckles adding to the overall mischievous look. ‘We aren‘t gonna lose yet Stanley,’ she said still grinning, possibly at his expression, ‘and you know why?’ ’Cause I, have got a plan…’ |
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| Turnip05 | Dec 4 2007, 07:12 AM Post #20 |
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Majestic Turnip
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I'm hoping people are still reading this, and the 'view' count seems to be going up each time I post, so here's the next part. What Penny’s plan actually was, Stanley could only wonder in annoyance. The young girl had refused to tell him her thoughts on the walk home that night, and the more she just grinned and shook her head, the more curious and concerned he became. But she had made it clear she wasn’t spilling the beans - at least, not yet, and not to him it seemed. At first, because of Penny’s gleeful attitude, Mrs. Gladys had thought they were off the hook when they came bumbling through the door, but once Stanley told her what the manager had said, she had sighed and sat down heavily on the little stool by the stove. ‘Oh well, at least you’ve still got the gardenin’, eh?’ she had said with a grim smile, ‘hopefully Mrs. Granitch and the others ain’t so bothered about your childhood as your damned manager be...’ Francis made an appearance too, but after acknowledging the night hadn’t gone well, Penny had taken him by the arm, whispered something in his ear and pulled him along out of the kitchen. When Stanley had peeped his head the door to see what they were doing, Penny had only pulled a face at him and dragged the poor artist upstairs out of hearing distance. Francis had looked somewhat bemused whatever the young girl was saying, so it wouldn’t be anything too serious. ‘Here, bit weird of the painter boy to be out of his room ain’t it?’ Mrs. Gladys had said frowning, serving the stew in a couple of bowls for him and Penny as he came back into the room. ‘He seems to have warmed to Penny, I think,’ Stanley replied thoughtfully. ‘Well, he never used to be very interested in anyone else in the house. Always been very quiet since he started lodgin’ ‘ere.’ The old woman called out suddenly that the tea was served, and the young girl quickly came skipping back from her secret talking. Usually Stanley would make the dinner himself after work, but obviously Mrs. Gladys was in one of her restless moods where she had this strange inclination for doing everything for you because something bad had happened. He didn’t try and question her, it seemed to be some sort of instinctive motherly thing. According to Mr. Gladys she had done it all the time to their daughters. ‘What do you know about Francis, Stanley?’ Penny asked suddenly as they sat down to eat. ‘Francis?’ he chuckled, ‘we certainly seem to be interested in him at the moment don’t we?’ She kicked him under the table and scowled, face flushing bright red in embarrassment. ‘Just tell me!’ ‘Well…if you tell me what you wanted with him before, I might,’ Stanley teased, laughing as she stuck her tongue out at him. ‘Okay, okay. But I really can’t tell you much,’ he said, ‘We may have both lived in the Lane, but we only ever realised the other existed when it came to choosing teams in games and fights and whatnot.’ ‘Francis used to fight?’ Penny exclaimed in disbelief, ‘You gotta be kidding.’ Stanley smiled, ‘bet you didn’t think I fought much before the newsletter, eh? Remember your own words, “everyone’s different when they’re younger, ‘cause they ain’t learnt everythin’ yet”.‘ ‘Yeah, but still…’ ‘Oh, he didn’t ever like the fighting, and he didn’t do it well, what we all wanted Francis in our group for was quick dodging.’ ‘Quick? Him?’ Stanley laughed, ‘he never used to move so cautiously all the time, I can tell you that. He was a dart fish when he played on our team.’ He shuffled a little in his seat, ‘When I first started living here and realised he lodged in the room opposite, I forced myself not to ask any questions. I sort of forgot he was Francis and labelled him as ‘the Artist’ instead. He had always been strange, and anyways, why should he remember me?’ ‘Those people in the article remembered you,’ Penny said, and then bit her tongue for mentioning the damned newsletter. He seemed so happy and cheerful despite the bad things that had happened that night, and she didn’t want to spoil the mood. Luckily, he didn’t seem bothered. ‘Most of them were parents though, or old enough to be interested in things like…like my family and me. Francis was just another kid in the street.’ ‘I guess.’ They ate in silence for a while until eventually Penny finished and tottered along to her room under the stairs. Soon Stanley too had eaten all he could and began clearing up after her without complaint, making for his own room once he’d done. For some reason the whole ordeal with the manager just didn’t seem bother him much now that it had happened. So what if people would give him rotten looks whenever he walked by for a while? So what if he wouldn’t be able to work at the Halls until a couple of weeks were over? He had the gardening, and the manager would accept him back once it was all old news and the Halls managed to perk up their reputation a bit. The Lansdale’s had uncovered pretty much everything shameful about him, so he doubted there was much else to report to the Courier. For a brief moment he wondered if they’d start on Penny and felt a flash of anger in his mind before he realised practically no-one knew about her, and if they did she was someone to sympathise with, not scorn. They wouldn’t be cruel enough to do that, surely? He realised he had been standing outside his door vacantly whilst he’d been thinking and looked up to see that the Artis- Francis- was watching him. He shook his head and was about to open the door when the other man spoke. ‘Stanley? I think…I think you should watch out for little Penny. More so than usual,’ the artist murmured quietly from across the hall, ‘She seems very…confident in herself. To a dangerous degree.’ ‘What do you mean?’ Francis glanced inside his room as if someone was behind, ‘I just…get a feeling this little plan of hers might be less realistic than she hopes. She’s just an eleven year old girl, and she’s very powerless no matter how strong her will.’ ‘Plan? She told you about that weird secret she keeps tapping her nose at?’ The artist laughed shakily. ‘No. Not at all,’ he said with a slight smile, ‘it’s just she…she seems so confident in herself that her outcome may be somewhat disappointing.’ ‘Ah, right.’ Stanley nodded to him, turning the door handle to his room, ’I’ll make sure to wheedle her out of it whatever it is. I guess she’s done so much to cheer me up and get me moving again that she feels she has a duty to keep it all together.’ ‘Yes…’ The other man quietly stepped back into his room after a short swift ‘goodnight’, and Stanley went into his own at last. The bed covers had obviously been washed and dried thoroughly, Gladys style, the fabric stiff and smelling of general cleanliness. His little suitcase that served as a wardrobe had been stuffed underneath the small window ledge, making him look as though he was on holiday. With a sigh he lit a candle on his bedside, feeling a little sad that he wouldn’t be doing the same tomorrow evening for three hundred more. Just a couple of weeks, that’ll be all, he told himself, dressing for bed by the candles small, flickering glow, fumbling into the old creaky bed and watching the light dismally. Eventually, as he lay there beside the lonely flame, he let the thoughts of home and Magda flood his mind, letting the barriers that he had prepared since the early morning collapse and listening to his sisters voice cry out article quotes of devils sons and bloody knuckles. You’d best stop your fighting, young boy, came the unforgotten voice of old Nanny Coutt, rising in his mind as it always did, ‘cause it’ll cause you some real damage one day! The cracked old woman may have spent her last days in a cornfield declaring she was the King of Spoons, he thought regretfully, but perhaps if I’d spared at least one damned and stupid thought for her words of wisdom, I would never have had to deal with this… |
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| Idiot | Dec 4 2007, 07:26 AM Post #21 |
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Brackenwood Lightweight
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Yes, yes yes we are! Couldn't stop reading this if I tried. My sister keeps coming into the room and asking what all the alternate giggling and squeaking in fear is about. I'd better not try reading this in public, people will think I've gone as cracked as Nanny Coutt...
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| Turnip05 | Dec 8 2007, 09:03 AM Post #22 |
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Majestic Turnip
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Thankyou Idiot! (although that sounds mean
)And thankyou to the others who read! I'm enjoying it myself - it's quite therapeutic to write after a long day Next part, which has no Stanley, but all Penny... Penny stood wearily at the crossroads, scanning the shops that lined the streets and hands clasping the little canvas bag she’d been given by Mrs. Gladys to use as a purse. The traffic of horses and carts was quite busy this morning and she was finding it hard to read each shop sign properly through the quick gaps in the bulky flow. But then, she thought with a sigh, the shop I’m lookin’ for’ll probably be in some cheap alleyway or under the old Cradle Bridge, not on the main high street. The young girl moved further up the road to see if she could get across the way safely somewhere else, when she suddenly caught glance of a bundle of rags and a familiar little dirty face peering between them on the back of a passing wagon. For a moment she nearly called out to the young boy, but stopped herself just in time as she realised she wasn’t part of that world anymore. She was one of the ‘Luckies’ now. She had a home, she had food, and she partly had a family. Tim noticed her as well and his eyes widened in shock as the cart drove by. He looked as though he wanted to call out too, until he no doubt noticed her clean, new dress and neatly trimmed hair. For a short while they merely stared at each other in disbelief, each seemingly frozen where they stood or sat. As Penny gazed, she noticed his slight frame, visible through the thin cloths he‘d gathered himself up in, sickly pale skin like a thin layer of peel over his toast-rack ribs, dark hair twisted into greasy clumps to keep it out of his eyes and little wooden beads threaded on them to make him a better view for begging. His skeletal body has hunched with fatigue and with a sad nod he acknowledged her new passing from the cold dark of the poor, to the warm light of the fortunate. Hurriedly, she teared her eyes away for fear of tears and escaped his grave, hollow eyes through a break in the traffic, darting over to the opposite side of the road blindly. Her feet found the pavement with a click and she kept running down the street towards Cradle Bridge, not daring to stop or open her eyes incase she let out a sob, or worse, saw another soul she’d known only those few months ago, a beggar, a thief, a half dead child that had once been part of her life, shared the same hunger pains and hard beds of doorway. Suddenly, she knocked into someone along the path and nearly fell over in shock, but was quickly caught by a pair of strong, slender arms. ‘Careful there little Penny,’ came a disturbingly familiar voice, and looking up blearily through her wet lashes she saw the long pale face of Donald Lansdale, a sly cat-like smile forming on his thin lips. She did not want to deal with this right now, and shocked as she may have been by his sudden appearance, she quickly tried to twist out of his hands forcefully, only to feel his stone grip tighten. ‘Let me go!’ she cried with a gasp. ‘Please. Hush, hush, young child,’ he said softly, nodding to those passers by who had noticed the odd commotion, ‘let’s come out of this busy street and sort you out.’ Once again she tried to drag herself away, but his grip was like steel and she could only let herself be taken to the entrance of a nearby lane, out of sight of the curious bystanders. ‘What do you want?’ she said bitterly, glaring up at him with angry eyes, mind still full of unrest and alarm from her brief encounter with Tim. ‘Now, now, such a temper Penny! I only wish to take advantage of our surprise meeting and ask you a little about your kind self,’ the man said innocently, grinning his grin, ‘the Courier delights in new news of old friends.’ ‘Well fat chance!’ she cried, ‘you messed up Stanley and his job ‘cause of what you put in that damned newsletter thing, and you ain’t doin’ the same to me!’ She squirmed with a grunt and spat, making the man jump back in shock, enough for her to slip free of his firm grasp. ‘Stop!’ the Lansdale shouted as she scampered down the lane, but she was having none of it. ‘Leave us alone!’ she cried over her shoulder, and turning into an old forgotten cut that lead down to the river, left him far behind… She only stopped running when she came to the small line of shanty shops under the Cradle bridge, feet sore and heart thumping. She wasn’t going out into the city again any time soon if this was going to happen all the time. Silently she looked through the dull, dusty shop windows as she got her breath back and steadied herself against a nearby fence. She‘d only been out in the town for a about a quarter-hour, but already her mind was reeling at the unwanted, and very definitely unexpected meetings that had taken place. At least I found the shop I wanted after all that, she thought weakly, looking up at the store before her, the wooden racks visible through the grimy glass panes and laden with cheap clothes and hats. A few shoe boxes had been shoved underneath each rail of shirts and breeches, supposedly containing second-hand shoes or worn out working boots. ‘The Miller’s Bargain Boutique’ the old sign above the door read, but of course, Penny could make head nor tail of the squiggly writing being illiterate as she was. Checking the money from Stanley was still in the canvas bag slung across her shoulder, she ventured in, almost jumping as a jingly bell rang above her head. ‘Oh great, a customer…’ came a miserable voice from somewhere at the rear of the shop, and looking up Penny saw a tired, middle aged woman peering across from behind a crooked wooden counter. ‘Got any money on you love, or are you just browsing the boutique.’ The hissing emphasis of the word ‘browsing’ caused chills to run up the young girls spine, and as she stepped in and out of the clutter of the shop floor she gave a nervous shake of her head. ‘I’m er…lookin’ for a pair of breeches and a cap.’ ‘Trousers?’ the older woman muttered suspiciously, ‘whatever does a young girl like you want trousers for, eh?’ ‘It’s to help someone get their job back,’ Penny answered back haughtily, flushing as she realised how ridiculous it sounded. The woman laughed shakily and pointed over to the far right corner of the room, ‘Whatever, just take your pick and give me the money. Caps are generally everywhere so have fun finding one that fits.’ The young girl mumbled a word of thanks under her breath, although she didn’t really mean it, and dragged herself through the mess of the shop to the trouser racks. She had to admit it wasn’t bad shop (although the service was lacking) and everything was going as planned so far, bar Tim and the Lansdale man. All she had to do now was find her desired clothes to finish her morning preparations for the ‘Plan’, get back to the Gladys’ before Stanley had a chance to disappear and they’d soon be on their way to sorting out this awkward mess… …or at least, so she hoped… |
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| Woo | Dec 8 2007, 10:49 PM Post #23 |
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Queen of all! bow before my might!
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still an awsome story.
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| Turnip05 | Dec 16 2007, 08:36 PM Post #24 |
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Majestic Turnip
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Gah! I'm sorry about the lateness of this update, but because Cristmas is drawing near I've had a few concerts and rehersals to do at school so my evenings have become rather busy And I've discovered an error earlier on in the story (it's not really that important) and its been grating me, so I'm hoping I've no contradictions or boring repetition in the next part... Anyway - here it is... Stanley stood restlessly in the small, narrow garden, watching as Mrs. Gladys hung out the washing in the warm sunshine and wondering why Penny had left to go out to town so early. He hadn’t slept well that night so he’d spent most of his morning lying in bed feeling groggy, and had missed her leaving the house. ‘Stop standin’ there all bone-idle you restless lump, and come help me,’ Mrs. Gladys called from behind a pair of pink bloomers. Stanley didn’t argue and came over, but carried out the work slowly and clumsily, almost tipping the whole washing basket out onto the grass at one point. ‘What’s wrong with you, eh?’ the old woman inquired as he nearly did it a second time, losing his balance after trying to peg up one of the giant bed sheets. ‘You’re not usually this dizzy, my pumpkin.’ ‘Sorry, I just…I guess I didn’t sleep well last night and I’m worrying about what Penny’s getting up to. I can’t concentrate properly.’ Mrs. Gladys sighed, ‘Penny’ll be fine. She used to live on the damn streets so I think she knows her way round an’ what the dangers are, my boy.’ ‘It’s not that…’ Stanley muttered. ‘Oh, it isn’t? You’ve always been protective of her Stanley, like she was your little kid sister - or daughter even. Give her a bit more respect.’ ‘She’s eleven years old Mrs. Gladys! She’s only young.’ ‘And so are you to me, but I ain’t holdin’ you back. No. I respect that you’ve got a life to live.’ ‘She’s just a little kid though- it’s…it’s different.’ The old woman shook her head, ‘Not very Stanley, not very. She’s got one hell of a head on her shoulders for such a young lass, ‘cause she ain’t so stupidly naïve, and she ain’t a dawdling lump like my daughters were, fussin’ over boys and hair ribbons instead of work and savin‘. I bet she’s seen and been through the worst of this world on those streets, and now she knows that she’s gotta work hard to get herself free of that old life. She’s smart, although she hasn’t been properly educated with all the readin’ and writin’ and whatnot. Don’t think she can’t look after herself Stanley, ‘cause I’m sure she most definably can.’ ‘That doesn’t mean bad things can’t happen to her though does it…’ he muttered from behind a yellowing shirt. ‘Good grief Mr. Morris!’ Mrs. Gladys laughed suddenly, virtually dropping the peg bag with her shaking, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who worries as much as you do! First you plague me about her doin’ the round on her own all those weeks back, then there’s all the fuss about that damned newsletter, and now your fettin’ on about Penny bein’ badgered in bright daylight in the midst of town where she did live for 7 years! Relax my sparrow and keep your mind on the washin‘ instead. It’ll stop your brain from burnin’ away with all your mad thoughts…’ She chuckled as she gathered up the basket and plonked it on the ground next to him with a heavy thud. ‘So I think I can leave you alone to do this lot now, eh? You ain’t gonna trip over and nearly break your neck like before, eh?’ She slapped him on the back with another laugh and started walking back to the kitchen door. The young man sighed and looked down dismally at the wet pile of clothes by his feet. He was going to have a fun morning. But then again, I’ve nothing else to do, so I can’t really complain, he thought, picking up one of Mrs. Gladys long night dresses and draping it across the line, securing it with a couple of pegs and moving along a pace, And at least I’m being helpful too… He reached down and dug in the basket, pulling out another dress. This time it was Penny’s old yellow frock, and it was definably looking better than it had all those months ago when they first met, as most things did after suffering the Gladys’ brutal washing cycle. She’d worn it a few times when her other clothes were in the wash, but she always preferred to wear the newer ones she’d been given by Mrs. Gladys, her favourite being the thick scarlet and grey dress that had a little frill around the hems. Stanley could see why this old one wasn’t worn often, with its common floral pattern faded and yellow custard dye unflattering. Suddenly he gave a cry as a grey cat darted out from underneath the hedge and skipped through his legs, tripping him up backwards so he landed painfully with a hard heavy thud on the ground. He managed to save the dress from landing in the soil, but his back ached and his head throbbed with pain. He hissed in agony as he got up stiffly and scowled at the cat. ‘Little flea bag,’ he muttered, watching as it scampered off to the open kitchen door, rubbing his sore spine and hanging the dress lopsided on the line whilst he recovered. He stood up after a few moments and gave a gasp as his back cracked abruptly. Just great, he thought bitterly with gritted teeth, and stiffly began his work again with a grunt… It was a while before he finished, bending down to the basket having become such a painful chore, and as he entered the kitchen with the peg bag, he saw the cat sitting by the toasty warm stove, purring blissfully. He scowled at the injustice and tried to shoo it away in annoyance, but it merely stared at him as cats do, giving a lazy yawn. Realising it wasn’t going to budge he sat down on one of the dining chairs with a heavy sigh, wincing as his back stung. ‘You’re going to pay for that sometime cat,’ he grumbled, gently settling himself in a more comfortable position. The sound of the front door opening with a squeak and then slamming shut alerted his mind back to Penny, but remembering what Mrs. Gladys had said to him earlier he suppressed his curiosity as he heard her call out to the house that she was back. He hoped she would come into the kitchen and give him an excuse to question her, but he only heard her footsteps get as far as the little cupboard under the stairs, and the quiet clatter of the lock as it was set into place. It wasn’t long though before he heard her come out again, and as she shouted his name up the stairs he laughed. ‘I’m in the kitchen,’ he called, listening to her thud up the hallway. She came through the door with a skip and clapped her hands with a giggle as she saw the cat. ‘Hey! Greywacke came back,’ she said getting down on her haunches to stroke it behind the ears, seemingly unaware of Stanley’s sudden wide stares. He gave a choking laugh. ‘Penny are you…Penny why are you wearing breeches?!’ he asked in bewilderment, taking in her bizarre change of dress with a bemused expression. She laughed as she looked up at him, and stood up, hitching up the thin leather belt with one hand and sweeping the old brown cap off her head with the other. ‘You like it?’ she said with a grin, bowing to him. Stanley merely stared at her for a few more moments before shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Why’ve you dressed yourself up like a…a boy?’ ‘’Cause I’m not lettin’ people look up my skirt whilst I work anymore!’ she said in triumph. ‘Work?’ he frowned, ‘But Penny-’ ‘-Oh! I know the manager said you couldn’t work at the Halls anymore,’ she said with another grin, jamming the cap back on her head, ‘but he never said I couldn’t come back. It’s all part of my plan! I’m gonna get your job and name back quick and proper! It might take another night as well as this’n, but I’ll get through to them stuffy Renwick nobs, I’ll show them you’re just as good as you were shown in the first article! I got it all sorted.’ She had expected him to laugh at her maybe - and yes, try and persuade her out of it because that‘s what he was always like - but instead his face fell sadly and his eyes clouded with concern. ‘Penny,’ he said darkly, ‘this isn’t a game. The manager will just chuck you out if you turn up again.’ But the girl just smiled. ‘I know it ain’t a game!’ she said confidently, ‘but what I’m gonna do ain’t a game either. That’s why I called it a plan.’ The young man looked at her bright eager smile and sighed. ‘You don’t need to do this Penny. It was sweet of you to want to help when I was ill, but this is far more serious. It could make things worse if the manager thinks I’m being cheeky.’ ‘Well, I know that. But I’m gonna make sure they don’t think it’s your idea, I’m not that stupid. And I’m not the only one helpin’ you - Francis is goin’ to help too and I’ll get a few people from the Hall as well, like Gloria and Alfie, so it’s not as if I’m in any danger Stanley. You don’t need to worry.’ His dark expression didn’t change though, and as he stood up stiffly he gave another heavy sigh. ‘Come on!’ she said, ‘trust me! It’ll be fine! I’ll be fine!’ The cat mewed beside her on the floor and curled around her legs affectionately. ‘I’ll be fine won’t I Greywacke,’ she said looking down at its bright yellow eyes, putting her hands on her hips and nodding. ‘Stanley’s just bein’ a fusspot again.’ The young man watched her standing there, dressed up in second-hand brown breeches and what was probably an old working shirt from Mrs. Gladys’ airing cupboard of wonder, talking to the damn cat and bursting with confidence, her energetic mind having formed some sort of strange plan to get his job back. It was risky, it seemed ridiculous, and he really didn’t want her to go, but as Mrs. Gladys’ words and advice from that morning rung steadily in his ears, he found himself giving in and forcing his worries away. ‘Fine,’ he said reluctantly, ‘you’ve got my go ahead.’ ‘Really?!’ she cried, clapping her hands together in glee, ‘thank you, than-’ ‘-But!’ he said raising a finger and stopping her in mid-thankyou, ‘You’re taking someone with you. That’s my only preference. At least, the only one I’m going to enforce.’ ‘Of course! I’ll get Francis! I think I’d be too scared to go on my own anyway,’ she burbled, running forward and hugging him around the waist, ‘I’ll show ‘em you’re the good guy in all this an’ those Lansdale’s are just the big bullies. I’ll show them you’re the only one for the job, right? They always use to rely on you before, right? Bet they’re all in a mess now ‘cause he fired you, eh? Right?’ ‘Okay, okay,’ he laughed, ‘shut up and get on with it all, I don’t want to hear no more of it, okay? I’m only doing this ‘cause of Mrs. Gladys…’ ‘Mrs. Gladys?’ the girl said, stepping back. ‘Yeah, she…’ he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, ’she sort of had a talk with me this morning, I guess. Told me I was too protective of you lately, needed to let you do a few more things without worrying. I realise she’s probably right, you’re older than you seem.’ Penny giggled, ‘she definably got that right.’ Stanley smiled and watched as she picked up the mewing cat from the floor, glancing over her shoulder with another grin. ‘You should probably go at around four since there might be trouble, and it’ll be slower with you on your own,’ he advised, noticing the time on the clock. ‘Course,’ she said nodding, ‘don’t worry, I’ll be fine!.’ And with that she trundled out of the room with the cat in her arms and left Stanley to stand in the kitchen and ponder... Soon it was time for her to leave, and standing in the door he watched the two figures - one pale and tall, the other small and freckled - walk off down the road together, Penny nattering away to the artist relentlessly about who knew what. ‘I see you let her go,’ Mrs. Gladys said from behind him as he closed the door reluctantly. ‘Yeah…’ She gave a smile, ‘and are you going to start worryin’ your socks off up in your room now you can’t watch and protect her?’ He shrugged and the old woman laughed. ‘Go find somethin’ to do my pumpkin and keep your mind occupied,’ she suggested as she went back to the kitchen where her husbands tea was boiling, ‘it won’t do you no harm...’ Stanley sighed. Something to do. Well if he stayed in the house he’d just fidget or kill the blooming cat if it got near, so perhaps… He glanced round the hallway and saw his old coat hanging on the hook. Yes, he thought with a nervous smile, something to do… |
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| Turnip05 | Dec 22 2007, 01:35 AM Post #25 |
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Majestic Turnip
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*eats head* Next part! ‘…well the manager never said I couldn’t come back, so I thought I better do the job for Stanley since he canna do it himself,’ Penny explained to the nervous young steward before her, trying to act composed despite her carefully concealed nervousness. But the red haired woman only gripped the wax bucket with both hands tighter and shook her head. ‘I-I don’t really think you do, and he did tell me t-that I was lighting the candles tonight, s-so…’ she shook her head again. ‘Stanley was fired wasn’t he? T-that means you were too, right?’ Penny glanced round at Francis who was standing beside her for support and the young man gave his wide smile for the steward and shook his head gently. ‘No. I believe Penny is probably needed to continue the job. Especially if there isn’t a proper replacement yet.’ The woman looked extremely nervous now and looked over her shoulders desperately to find that there was no-one nearby to help. The poor lady obviously didn’t want to deal with this, but Penny wasn’t giving up now. ‘W-well how do I know Mr. Morris hasn’t j-just sent you along t-to play havoc?’ the steward stuttered, trying to turn back to scraping out the corridor lamps to give her a look of self-assurance, but failing miserably seeing as she was shaking so much. ‘’Cause…well ‘cause he doesn’t actually know I’m here,‘ Penny lied, pretending to blush in embarrassment, ‘he would’ve made a big fuss If I had told him, you see? He gets all worried about me if he doesn’t know if am safe.’ ‘Oh, um…r-right.’ The woman gave a panicky look as she glanced around again for another steward or waiter, and then gave in, shoulders sagging, and carefully put the bucket down in front of Penny. ‘I-I’ll have to stay though since I haven’t b-been given any other orders…’ she mumbled quietly. ‘Of course! More the merrier,’ Penny encouraged, taking a box of candles from the work trolley, ‘so what’s your name?’ ‘Oh, um, M-Maisy,’ Maisy stuttered, accepting the splint and lantern that was thrust into her hands by the eleven year old. ‘Well Maisy,’ Penny said taking control, trying not to giggle at the young woman’s nervousness as she spoke, ’usually I‘d do this on me own with Stanley doin’ another corridor, so I guess we‘ll have to split the job up tonight. I‘ll scrape out the holders, Francis‘ll stick a candle in, and you can light them after him, right? That sound okay?’ The woman nodded reluctantly but obediently, and stood waiting uncertainly whilst the young girl went round the undone lamps, Francis following easily behind. Penny felt a little giddy at how well that had gone, and was especially elated - although quite surprised - at how easily she’d taken over. She felt strangely powerful, although she had to admit this Maisy was as timid as a mouse with all her stuttering and helplessness, so it wasn’t that hard to take control. It felt as though it had all been a bit easy, not that she was complaining. The job still wasn’t done yet. ‘I like the wallpaper,’ Francis said suddenly as they began to get into the flow of the make-shift routine, ‘it has an…interesting texture.’ The steward gave the young man an uneasy look from over her shoulder and Penny laughed. ‘He’s an artist,’ she explained, giggling as Francis gave a slow smile and nodded at the troubled Maisy, causing the woman to blush the same colour as her hair. ‘I-I see…’ ‘I do a lot of texture work at the moment,’ the artist continued, the strange smile still spread across his pale face, ‘I wonder how old this is…’ The two girls watched as he gently ran his hand over the walls, half trying to stick a candle in a holder with the other, blinking whenever it missed. ‘Um…Francis?’ Penny asked, but the man didn’t seem to hear and continued as if in some personal wallpaper trance. ‘I think we should do that after we’ve finished, right?’ But he just shook his head and said ‘now’. The steward gave a little moan and hung her head. ‘I was just m-meant to do the candles b-by myself,’ she burbled quietly as Penny turned to her, ‘th-that was all I was sent to do. I-It couldn’t have just been something simple like…oh, I-I don’t know, just leading the customers around a-and settling them down in the right room. Instead the manager has to g-go and f-fire Mr. Morris and I’m s-stuck with this job.’ The woman looked up to see the young girl watching her and blushed, ‘Well you as well, b-but you know what you‘re doing. I-it wasn’t as if the article or r-rumours were that bad either,’ she went on, ‘I-I wouldn’t have to do this if Mr. Morris hadn’t b-been tossed away ‘cause of…sensitive reputations.’ Penny blinked. She had expected to have to fight to convince people to accept that Stanley was fine, but here it seemed no persuading was needed. ‘I-I mentioned it to the others and a couple of them agreed, b-but no, the majority j-just stuck their noses up and said he was a runt from the Dustin Lanes a-and didn‘t deserve to b-be at the Halls.’ the woman said bitterly, venting some sort of secret frustration as Penny listened, Francis looking carefully away from the wall and quietly muttering, ‘era of tortoiseshell? 20 years? At least the design...’ ‘Y-you know half of them actually l-live in that area as well!’ the steward cried, throwing up her hands and blowing out the glowing splint she held, ‘a-and none of them, n-none of them, l-looked back at the other newsletter on the board and said, “w-well actually h-he’s still the same nice guy he was last week, isn‘t he?” T-that’s what I wanted to say, j-just scream it at them and w-watch their uptight little faces look all s-silly and ashamed.’ She sighed irritably and pulled a face, almost absentmindedly walking up to the candle Francis had eventually managed to fit into the socket and lighting it with a new splint from the lantern. ‘I c-couldn’t do it on my own though. T-they’d just laugh. Especially with m-my stutter,’ she muttered. ‘Oh. Well…‘ Penny shook herself, slightly bemused by the sudden ramblings and wallpaper inspections, and started back to work as the others had, trying to get her mind together again as she did so. She could easily dismiss Francis’ odd wallpaper love (although she hoped he wouldn’t do it again), but the fact that the mousy steward had some sort of passion for injustice was absolutely bizarre, if not perfect for her plan. ‘If you want help, we can help - we want Stanley back just as much as you do.’ Penny told Maisy. ‘Oh, yes, I-’ the woman blushed again and shook her head, ‘-oh I-I’m so sorry! I r-really didn’t mean to go off like that before.’ ‘Oh no, don‘t worry. That’s what we’re here for really,’ Penny said brightly, ‘’cause you’re right - Stanley don’t deserve to be all bad talked like this - he’s still the Man with the Light for the Renwick Halls. Everybody just focuses on the bad stuff now those Lansdale’s printed that new newsletter. We were goin’ to try an’ persuade a few people to see our side tonight an’ get his job an’ reputation back as much as we could.’ She turned and gave the steward an impish grin, ‘You said some of them still listened to you, right?’ ‘O-oh, well yes, th-there are some like me.’ The young girl smiled. ‘Then all’s well,’ she assured, dropping a lump of spare wax into the bucket with a neat thump. ‘’Cause that’s just what my plan needs…’ |
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You guys are the best!

6:40 PM Jul 11