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The Man with the Light; Just a short story I started...
Topic Started: Oct 15 2007, 03:54 AM (4,288 Views)
Woo
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Queen of all! bow before my might!
*still in love with the story*
still amazing! I saved reading this bit till today, like a birthday present to myself. :D
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Turnip05
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Majestic Turnip
:wub: Thanks muchly Woo (and I hope your birthday was great - I'm chuffed to read that you saved the story specially ^_^ *glee* )

Hee, hee :P I had great fun introducing the Cork family this week - hope you enjoy!



And he wasn’t left waiting long.

It only took a few minutes for Penny to come back from her self-directed mission, grinning her grin as she bounded down the stairs in great leaps.
In her rush, she almost knocked over a customer that was standing unaware of the eleven-year old by the banister, and quickly crying an apology over her shoulder to the poor woman, she ran up to Stanley and declared the unearthed address with confidence.

‘Seventy-six, Edgeworth Gardens, right by the old mill that got burnt down a few years ago ‘cause of that infestation of rats ‘fore all the plumbin‘ got changed. I used to sleep there you know. Really warm, although the rats were nasty…’
‘Edgeworth Gardens?’ Stanley frowned.
‘Yeah, by the burnt out mill that they never repaired? You gotta know the place-’
‘-I do, I do. It’s just…it’s in the complete opposite direction of the lodging house...’
‘Then we can just make a detour. Simple’
I’ll make a detour, missus. You’re going home,’ Stanley corrected, turning to the entrance hall doors, and walking out into the cold night air.

‘But then it’ll take you longer,’ Penny reasoned, following along behind him.
‘I don’t mind. And you’ll want your supper, anyway.’
‘I’ve gone without supper before.’
‘Well you aren’t tonight, so button your lips and stop arguing.’
Penny pouted as the young man tapped her nose meaningfully, but she was in too much of a good mood to retaliate properly.
Instead, she skipped happily home alongside him, singing an old folk song she had heard Gloria’s cooks sing occasionally when they thought she wasn‘t around, avoiding Stanley’s disapproving glares and annoyed swatting when she sang out a rude word or phrase any other eleven-year-old wouldn’t have known the meaning of.

She eventually shut up to Stanley’s relief as the streets became more populated with other city people coming home, or going out - but as they finally reached the front door of Gladys’ lodging house, she began her singing again.
Louder this time.

‘Mrs. Gladys’ll give you a hiding if you don’t shut up,’ Stanley reckoned, fighting his keys into the lock as Penny started a second verse.
They entered the hallway clumsily, making enough racket to get Mrs. Gladys’ head round the kitchen door, and Stanley gave the old woman an apologetic look. Beside him, Penny sang out her song.

‘Folk singers should be shot at birth,’ Stanley muttered, pushing past the child with an irritated sigh, ‘my father had a crossbow he’d have liked to done such with. She’s been singing that through the streets, Mrs. Gladys. All the way home.’
The old woman raised an eyebrow, ‘Every word? I know that song, an’ little ladies shouldn’t be-’
‘-all the words,’ Stanley confirmed, spreading his hands.
Mrs. Gladys frowned with a shake of her head, and strode towards the girl purposefully. Penny simply turned and gave an innocent smile, quickly shutting her trap as was no doubt about to be asked of her, and trotted swiftly past the woman into the kitchen where supper awaited.
Mrs. Gladys watched her meaningfully and shook her head again, turning to Stanley.
‘Joinin’ the Little Miss for tea now, my sparrow?’ she asked.
Stanley chuckled, holding up the parcel. ‘No, no. I’ve still got to get this to the Cork family.’
‘A request from Nina?’
He nodded, ‘for her older sister Maisy. I was meant to give it to her at the Halls - she works there you see - but she was off on sick leave.’
‘Ah, right. I’ll keep the pot warm for you then.’
‘Thanks,’ the young man said gratefully, and busily started back out the house again with a smile…


It didn’t take as long as he’d expected to get to Edgeworth Gardens, but it took a long, long while to find the house. With door numbers going up to 200 and odd, it didn’t take much to imagine just how long the street was - never mind the fact it was broken up by cross-roads and little alleyways, with most of the houses detached.
The Cork’s family house was somewhere in the middle he figured, but to make things worse he couldn’t quite remember whether it was 75 or 76 he was supposed to be looking for. It also didn’t help that each house, when he finally located them, were situated on opposite sides of the street.

He was suddenly struck with indecision, and because both looked so similar with a messy garden and porch, he couldn’t say he’d go for one because it looked more like a family house. Sighing, he glanced irritably down at the parcel in his hands, wondering why Nina hadn’t just posted the thing, or written a reminder of the address in case of such a situation. But there was no use in blaming the little busy accountant…

Quickly, looking up and down the street in case anyone was around, he did the only thing he could think of, standing in the centre of the road, and chanting …

‘Eeny, meeny, miny, moe
Catch a baby, by the toe
If it squeals, let it go,
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…‘


Resorting to counting rhymes was not his usual plan of action, or a very wise one, but on the last ‘moe’ he found his accusing finger pointing out towards number 76, and hesitantly walked up to it’s front door.
After a few raps on the wooden panels, he was greeted by a small child, her little head of bright red curls a reassuring sight. For a moment though, Stanley wasn’t sure what to say - not knowing whether the young girl was a sister of Maisy’s, a cousin, a niece - perhaps not even related to the woman at all if he had in fact, got the wrong house.
Instead, the child spoke first.

‘The postman doesn’t come at night,’ she stated matter-of-factly.
‘Oh, uh, I’m…I’m not the postman, uh miss,’ Stanley found himself stuttering, ‘but I am here to give a parcel to your…sister.’
He hoped the guess was right, and luckily, the girl didn’t object.
‘Mammy?’ she called instead, wandering out of the porch altogether and into the hallway, leaving the young man out on the steps, ‘a man wants to see a sister. He’s got a parcel.’

Suddenly, a tidal wave of noise started almost immediately from a nearby room somewhere in the house, and in a matter of moments, a small crowd had formed around one of the many hallway doors. All five were female, and - as far as Stanley could tell - all were red-heads, a sure sign he had found the Cork family. They were also, he realised, the right age to be younger sisters of his fellow friends, the steward and accountant.

When Nina had said the word ‘sisters’, I had been imagining one or two - not a whole horde, Stanley thought grimly as one of the youngest ones giggled at the sight of him, backing off slightly from the front step.

‘Aaw,’ complained one of the older ones, pouting, ‘I thought it might be Ross with a present for me.’
‘You and your Ross!’ cried another, turning to face her fellow sibling, ‘that’s all you think about isn’t it!’
‘You’re just jealous, ‘cause no-ones ever kissed your grubby face,’ one retorted smugly.
The youngest looking one stuck out her tongue in disgust, ‘Eew! Who wants to be kissed by a boy. That’s just icky.’

The only one who hadn’t spoke detached herself irritably from the group, and made her way across to Stanley with arms folded across her chest moodily.
‘Obviously you don’t know much about the Corks, mister,’ the adolescent said haughtily, tossing back a long lock of dark red hair over her shoulder, ‘which sister do you want?’
He blinked at such rudeness from the girl and stuttered, ‘Oh, um. M-maisy.’
‘She’s ill in bed.’
‘I-I know, otherwise I could have given her package at work,’ Stanley tried to say as politely as he could, ‘Is it possible to see her?’

But he never got an answer as the young girl’s head turned sharply at the sound a strong woman’s voice over by the still bickering group of sisters.
‘Away and leave the man alone!’ it called, and as the girls scattered from the doorway, Stanley saw a bulky middle-aged woman, with greying curly hair step out and shoo them away with vigour. The woman looked very much a tired mother, and no doubt her daughters were a handful and a half tonight - especially with the eldest in bed sick.

‘Very sorry, sir,’ the woman said with a watchful eye on her fleeing children, and wandering over to the open door, ‘how can I help you?’
Stanley gave a weak smile. ‘I was just wondering if I could go see Maisy about this parcel from her sis- your daughter Nina. I was planning to see her at work, but evidently, I found she wasn’t there.’
‘Oh. An unexpected request,’ the woman said with an eyebrow raised, ‘but sure. Come on in. She’ll be upstairs on the first right.’
‘I should just go straight up?’ Stanley asked, surprised.
The mother chuckled, ‘she’s just readin’ and drinkin’ her soup. I wouldn’t worry Mr…uh?’
‘Oh, um. Morris. Stanley Morris,’ he said, blushing.

For a moment, the woman paused with a slight frown, mouthing his name as if wondering where she’d heard it before. He realised that she had no doubt read the Blue Willow Courier article those couple of weeks back - perhaps because of Nina’s involvement with the business, as a proud parent would - and hoped deeply that the woman wouldn’t remember it. Like with Nina, he really didn’t want people to have such a bad first impression of him.
Luckily for him though, she simply shook her head after a brief second, and gave him a friendly smile.

‘Well then Mr. Morris, I’m Mrs. Cork if you haven’t guessed already. Nice to know a young man does come and visit to and from my two eldest. Maisy’s just up the stairs.’
‘Um. Thank you,’ Stanley said uncertainly, and watched as Mrs. Cork wandered back to her daughters, and left him alone to climb the creaky stairs.
When he got to the top, he followed his given instructions and took the first room on the right, knocking politely on the door so as not to surprise the bed-ridden steward.

‘Millie!’ came Maisy’s slightly hoarse voice, ‘I’ve t-told you to s-s-stop messing around-’
‘Um, it’s not your sister,’ Stanley informed the redhead, and cautiously opened the door to reveal himself, expecting to find it was a single bedroom, for the single patient.

To his surprise, he actually found himself walking into a bedroom that could have slept the whole horde of sisters downstairs, the small space - which was probably only built for two - cramped with five different beds, all squished up beside the other like a badly fitted puzzle. He could only guess the boxes under the beds contained each girl’s clothes and possessions, as there was no space for any wardrobes or chest-of-drawers to be fitted.

‘S-Stanley?’ the steward exclaimed from one of the small beds in the corner, ‘w-what are you doing here?’
The man chuckled and held up the parcel, ‘just delivering a package from your sister. I’ve had to chase around just to find you.’
The poor woman blushed at this, the scarlet contrasting deeply with her sickly pale face, and quickly stuttered an apology.
‘I-I’m very sorry, Stanley. Y-you needn’t have-’
‘Oh, no. It’s no problem. I’m just being silly! Although I was a little waylaid by your uh, many sisters.’
Maisy smiled at this and took the parcel from Stanley’s hands gratefully as he came over, running her hands along the seal.
‘I-is this about the L-Lansdale’s?’ she enquired, digging her nail into the envelope and tearing the fold.
‘I’m presuming so - I haven’t been allowed to look. Nina said to just give it to you, and I don’t think it’s my place to search through your mail.’
‘Hmm.’

From his position, he couldn’t see the what was on the paper that the woman had pulled from the envelope, and to his dismay, she gave nothing away with her expression either. There was no widened eyes, or gasps of surprise, merely a bland, tired look that didn’t even flicker into the realms of interest.
With a shuffle of the parcel, she peered in to examine the other documents that were hidden from Stanley’s view, and then simply put the package aside on the bed for later examination.
‘I th-think I’ll look at it w-when I’m feeling a little less murky and t-tired,’ she explained, rubbing her eyes and yawning, ‘but thank you for your t-trouble, Stanley. I really do a-appreciate it.’
‘It’s no problem - glad to help,’ he replied, although he had to admit, he was a little bit disappointed in not getting to see Nina’s findings.
‘W-well, I’ll make sure to send thanks to m-my sister for her work, a-and to you,’ the woman said, ‘and if you’ll excuse me, I-I think I need some s-sleep. Th-throwing up all morning doesn’t half w-wear you out.’
Stanley nodded, ‘Of course, Maisy. See you later.’
‘Bye.’

He closed the door with a click behind him, and wandered back down the stairs cautiously. Despite the creaking, no-one seemed to hear him, and feeling odd letting himself out of someone else’s house, he quietly slipped out of the porch and back into Edgeworth Gardens, glad to have gotten rid of the parcel at last…

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Turnip05
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Majestic Turnip
Thank you everyone for all your views lately :wub: It does make me happy :D

Sorry about the next part - nothing much happens I'm afraid, but I need to keep things going without rushing :unsure:


The kitchen floor was cold beneath his bare feet, and feeling a little strange wandering around in his nightwear, Stanley leaned against the sink and ate his supper of hot, thick, beef stew wearily. The walk back home had been cold and bitter, and he found himself savouring the stews warmth rather than the taste.
Penny was also in her nightclothes - a long, white, shapeless gown that trailed when she walked - and sat by the toasty warm stove opposite him, sipping warm milk.

‘So, what was in the parcel, Stanley?’ she asked.
The young man looked up in panic for a moment, and then regained his calm and shrugged, ‘I didn’t actually find out to be honest. All I know is that it was all sheets of paper and written documents.’
Penny seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘Perhaps it were bills and IOU notes? All that legal stuff so the Cork family can check the amounts they have to pay are fair an‘ stuff?‘
‘Eh?’ Stanley blinked in confusion, and then quickly remembered the story he’d told her about the Josephine’s and Cork’s, ‘Oh er, I mean, I guess so. Although it was from Nina, so I suppose it could have been anything…’

Silently, he looked away down into his soup bowl to hide his guilt. He hadn’t exactly lied to the girl - or at least not for the first part. Maisy didn’t actually confirm that it was about the Lansdale’s during their conversation, and he had no idea what information the documents held since the steward hadn’t thought, or perhaps wanted, to share the parcels contents.

Then why do you feel as though she’s searching your face for hints of mistrust and dishonesty? Why such a guilty notion?

True, the girl’s gaze had settled on him a little longer than he was comfortable with when he‘d turned away, but they were both tired, and he was letting Nanny Coutts cackling wisdom get to his head a little too much lately. He would be glad when he got back to work, and the Lansdale’s were sorted out - then perhaps he could get some practical worrying done - like about what to do with his sister…

‘You alright?’
Stanley blinked, and realised the bowl of stew in his hand was tipping dangerously, quickly steadying it again with a sigh. Penny giggled.
‘You looked like you were thinkin’ a lil’ too deeply there. It’s good stew that. At least it smells good from over here.’
‘Sorry,’ Stanley apologized, ‘I guess I was just…yeah, thinking too much.’
‘Worryin’?’
The young man laughed, ‘it’s what everyone says I do…’
Finishing his supper with a couple of extra sups, he set the bowl and spoon down noisily by the sink to clean in the morning. It was getting late, and he had to be up for the usual Saturday gardening spree.

‘Oh, um, by the way Stanley,’ Penny suddenly said as he made his way across the room to go to bed, ‘the Manager told me he’s sendin’ an official notice round to say you can come back to work next week. He said you knew, but this makes it all…proper an’ such. Sorry ‘bout not tellin’ you before,’ she apologized with a grin, ‘but that parcel got me a little distracted.’
Stanley just shook his head. ‘Don’t worry, I think that parcel’s got a lot of people distracted at the moment. And thanks, I’ll make sure to check the post tomorrow. It’ll be good to get back, as well as have something to do in the evenings again.’
‘Back to the two o‘ us?’
‘Of course,’ the man laughed. ’Actually, that’s got me thinking Penny. You’re not exactly an apprentice anymore are you?’
She frowned, ‘what d’you mean?’
‘Well, for the last few weeks you’ve been able to do the round yourself without any mis-hap, disregarding the uh, Plan. So if you’ve got enough confidence and skill to do that, then what more have I got to teach you?’
‘But…but,’ the girl stammered, ‘I canna do it as quick as you! I have to go an hour early just to get finished in time - whereas you’d have plenty time to spare havin’ started at five...’
‘Yeah, but that’s just practise. You can’t teach someone else how to practise - that just takes time.’

The girl bit her lip and frowned again. ‘Why does it matter if I’m an apprentice or not though? I‘m still your assistant. Aren’t I?’
‘Well, yes - I didn‘t mean -’ the man sighed, and lowered his hands. ‘I just meant you’re like a proper assistant now - more like a partners. You need a bit more respect than just ‘apprentice‘. Basically, I’ll start splitting the share of money with you, if that’s what you want…’

Penny blinked, and then nodded eagerly.
‘Sure! But what woulda spend the money on? Mrs. Gladys wouldna make me pay her back for lettin’ me stay if I literally begged her, an’ I’ve got everythin’ I need at the moment. So…’
The girl cocked her head in puzzlement, and Stanley shrugged. ‘Well…just keep saving it until you do need something.’
‘Like you?’ the girl grinned, ‘’cept you’re spendin’ it on your sister all the time now...’
The young man groaned, ‘don’t remind me. I need to go pay her a visit sometime to see how she’s doing. And I’m dreading it...’

Suddenly, a loud knock came on the kitchen door, startling the talking pair.
‘Here, you two should be getting to bed at this hour,’ came the voice of Mr. Gladys as he peered round the door, eyebrows raised, ‘especially you, little missus.’
‘Oh, um. We’re going now, Mr. Gladys,’ Stanley said hurriedly, ‘don’t worry. I’ve got work in the morning, and Penny knows she needs her sleep - don’t you?’
The girl stuck her tongue out as the young man prodded her with his cold toes, but ended up giggling.
‘Sorry Mr. Gladys,’ she said, brushing away Stanley’s feet and getting up off the floor with her empty mug, placing it beside the other dishes on the bench.
‘That’s alright - I just want to see to it my tenants aren’t gossiping in my kitchen all night. I want some sleep to,’ the man chuckled.

Obediently, the pair of candle lighters nodded and went off to their beds, Penny delving into her little cove under the stairs, and Stanley settling down above in his rented room after a short exchange of goodnights...
He slept well that night he found, with no dreams or disturbances during his restful sleep, and feeling unusually bright in the morning, he couldn’t help but feel cheerful when the Manager’s notice came through the door with a neat ‘swish’ as he came down the stairs.

‘Back to the Halls on Monday, Mrs. Gladys,’ he declared happily as he wandered into the kitchen and held up the letter, ’just a couple of days and I’ll be back.’
The old woman looked up from where she was making her husbands bait and broke into a bright smile. ‘Well that’s great, my pumpkin!’
Suddenly the young man felt a heavy thump on the back and turned in shock to see Mr. Gladys behind him, probably having patted him on the back.
‘Good to know lad. Seems Mr. Forster isn’t prepared to face the loss of such a hard worker, eh?’
‘Oh, um. Thanks,’ Stanley blushed, standing aside as the man took his prepared lunch from his wife’s hands across the room.
‘Just make sure you don’t get messed up with them Lansdale’s again, Mr. Morris, otherwise your old manager might not be so sympathetic…’
With that last comment, the older man gave him a meaningful nod and strode past him into the hallway purposefully as he went on his way to work.

‘Bit late for a warnin‘, eh?’ remarked Mrs. Gladys as she turned back to the bench, ‘you’ve already got yourself mixed up in another somethin‘.’
Stanley frowned worriedly. ‘Hmm.’
‘Disregarding that though Stanley, you’ve got it all back now, right? Job’s back, Penny’s gettin’ on well, your sister’s talkin’ to you...’
‘Well, I doubt the last one, but I guess,’ he said with a smile. Then quickly grimaced. ‘Actually it’s probably best if I see Magda today - perhaps after the gardening. Get it over with before I lose contact again,’ he sighed, rubbing his forehead irritably.
Mrs. Gladys gave a light chuckle. ‘Is she really that bad? I mean when I met her she was a bit rude to poor Penny, and pretty unsociable to me - but there’s got to be somethin’ that’s nice about her…’

Stanley laughed, ‘not that I can think of straight away, even in this mood, and I probably wouldn’t in the next hour either.’
Mrs. Gladys frowned and shook her head at the young man.
‘Well...perhaps she has perked up a bit since I saw her before, but well. I’ll think I’ll just have to see this afternoon…’



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Woo
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Queen of all! bow before my might!
I love the Corks. :D such an awesome family, made entierly of red haired girls. XD that must have been a shock to poor Stanley.
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Turnip05
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Woo - a red headed father as well, although I didn't introduce him :P

Thanks for comment and views everybody *hugs*
Got the next part up quicker than normal - perhaps it's all the Easter Egg chocolate I got on Sunday :lol: Enjoy!



The bench gleamed a little too much for Magda’s liking, and nodding to her guest to take his coat off and sit down, she found herself surreptitiously brushing a few crumbs from the bread bin around to make things seem a little more normal.
It was a while since she’d had a real guest around, who was stranger enough to actually require the house to be properly cleaned up, but she was starting to think she had perhaps tried a bit harder than was necessary.

Mould from the ceiling - that probably wouldn’t have even been noticed anyway - had been scraped off thoroughly with a sharpened spatula earlier that day. The chimney had been swept spick and span so not an ounce of soot or grunge could be found. And stupidly she thought now, since her particular guest carried the strong smell of fish around with him wherever he went, she had even scrubbed the floorboards and walls, to try and get rid of the old smell of damp and smoke that had buried itself into the wood and had never been especially pleasant.

‘Do you live here alone Miss. Morris? It’s quite a homely house. Nice kitchen too. Do you do much cooking? It certainly looks well used.’
‘Oh, er, yeah Terrence. Thank you,’ she replied with a weak smile at the short fishmonger, starting up the fire to boil the kettle. ‘Cup o’ tea?’
‘Oh, please Miss. Morris! That would be delightful. My friend owns a small coffee shop down on Woven Avenue you know. Best coffee in town they say! But I always have tea when I go. Can’t go wrong with a cup of tea, as my mother always says. Perks you up in the morning, and settles you down at night. Yes, you can’t go wrong with tea…’

Magda merely nodded politely so as not to set off another conversation, and poked the fire to get it going, noticing how the afternoon hearth cleaning was already going up in smoke, the chimney filthy black again in minutes.

‘You work at the pub did you say Miss. Morris?’ the man started off again as she got up to re-arrange the cushions, ‘it must get pretty busy all those evenings. Don’t know a man who doesn’t go down to The Bull for a pint every night. I personally don’t drink much. My doctor said it doesn’t do your liver any good, and I can only hold his word as true, him being such a qualified man. Certificates on his wall and all sorts! Drink much Miss. Morris?’
‘Just call me Magda, Terrence,’ she sighed, ‘and no, am more of a lady than most people think I am, workin’ in The Bull all these years.’
‘All these years?’ the man piped up, ‘surely you aren’t old enough to say that?’ He gave a loud laugh and beamed brightly at her.
Magda only replied with a withering glance, and tried to repress the urge to scream.

Terrance Ferry was a man who liked to talk. Not especially about anything interesting, and not really about anything at all. He just seemed to spurt out random statements that would generally be linked to one another, the occasional question added in so the conversation would keep going as he‘d like. The man wasn’t popular, but he had a steady job working in the growing fish markets on the high street, owned a nice house in the western sprawl of the city, and was more importantly, unmarried…

Perhaps she was lowering herself a little to much going for the likes of Terrence, but as her brother had kindly brought to notice, she needed to get married before she became an old maid, and she couldn’t be especially picky with who she chose with her own rough, gaudy looks, and faulty personality. She was surprised the fishmonger had even agreed to come this afternoon, but then he didn’t really know much about the Morris family - or at least, what they had been. He probably would have buttered it all up anyway, declaring in jolly tones that every family needs ‘character‘…



The afternoon went on as slowly and embarrassingly as Magda had expected in the company of the merry Mr. Ferry, and just before his incessant optimistic spirit became absolutely unbearable, a sudden knocking came on the door.
Quickly glancing through the window, Magda couldn’t help but give out a little moan.
Of all the people… she thought, grimacing.

‘Um, excuse me a moment Terrence.’
‘But of course! It is your house Magda. Can’t expect no-one to turn up just because I’m here! I should probably be going soon anyway. Is it important?’
But the woman didn’t bother to answer the talkative fishmonger, and opened the front door reluctantly.

‘I’ve got a guest,’ she stated flatly to the newcomer.
‘Nice to see you too,’ said Stanley, ‘just checking up on you.’
‘I don’t need no checkin’ up on,’ she murmured in annoyance, turning aside and letting him come in grudgingly. Stanley took off his coat, but kept a hold of it as he saw the short figure of Terrence sitting by the fire.
‘A man? Unexpected,’ he murmured quietly to her.
‘You wanted me to be more sociable, didn’t you?’ the woman muttered back irritably.
‘Anyway. Terrence, this is my little brother Stanley, Stanley, this is Mr. Terrence Ferry,’ she said, raising her voice and indicating from one man to the other in turn.
‘Oh! Pleased to meet the family at last!’ the fishmonger declared happily, bouncing up brightly and shaking the youngest Morris’s hand, ‘it’s good to see you’re both still looking after each other despite your losses. I am right to say there aren’t any more Morris’s? No offence meant of course, if I‘m wrong!’
‘Oh, um, yes. There’s just me and Magda now,’ Stanley found himself saying as his hand was shook with extreme vigour by the small man.
‘Magda tells me you’re giving her a helping hand in fixing a few things in her life,’ the man continued as he gave back Stanley’s hand, ‘I’m very much for it if it’ll make her smile a little more!’
The man laughed loudly and beamed at the two siblings happily.

‘Well, I don’t think I should tally any longer Magda,’ he finally chatted away, fetching his coat from the coat hanger, ‘you probably have things to talk about yourselves I’m sure. I don’t wish to interrupt!’
‘Oh, um, yes Terrence. I’ll see you later perhaps,’ Magda replied, stepping aside so the man could get his coat on as he trotted out the door, the smell of fish trailing behind him.
‘And thank you very much for having me, Magda! Very nice to meet you too Stanley - do look after your sister!’ he called earnestly. ‘Ta-rah!’

With that, the man quickly skipped down the front steps with a cheerful nod and wave, leaving Magda to suffer the bemused looks of her brother alone.

‘He’s a friend, Stan, don’t say otherwise,’ the woman stated firmly, shutting the door and going over to the fireside to clean up the cups of tea. Behind her, Stanley repressed a smirk and tried to think of something appropriate to say.
‘He’s a bit….short,’ he finally settled on commenting, and received a glare from the other side of the room.
‘Perhaps compared to us six footers,’ Magda said defensively, ‘but you can’t be picky with friends.’
‘Hmm. Friends?’
He dodged another glare and grinned.
‘I don’t mind you trying for the men Magda-’
‘-he’s a friend! I’m socialisin’ like you wanted me too-’
‘-but he’s a pretty odd pick of the crowd. The fishy smell-’
‘-he’s a fishmonger!-’
‘-the chirpiness? Too much for you surely-’
‘-he’s…he’s not that bad…-’
‘-and I bet anyone would begin to cringe if in his company for more than five minutes. He’s practically a walking embarrassment.’
He laughed as she chucked a weighted cushion at him aggressively, and watched as the dark haired woman slowly went red.

‘I thought you wanted me to try!’ she cried angrily, ‘I’m just doing what you asked!’
‘Yeah, but someone like him?’
‘Well what else can I can compete for, eh Stan? I’m hardly the most desirable of people me’self!’
She turned crossly towards the bench and began filling up the sink to wash the dishes.
‘You deserve better than him though - he’d just get on your nerves, not make you happy,’ Stanley assured her.
‘Well I don’t think I suit happiness anyway,’ she sniffed haughtily, dumping the tea cups and kettle in the sink.

Silence descended awkwardly, and Stanley sat down on a nearby stool.
Leaning back, he gazed up at the ceiling - realised something was missing - and frowned.
‘All the moulds gone…’
‘Yes, it’s called spring cleaning!’ replied Magda heatedly, ‘I used a spatula and a scrubbing brush, before you start asking questions.’
The young man glanced worriedly over at his sister and sighed. ‘Magda-’
‘-I dinna care about Terrence,’ she said shortly, ‘you’re right - he’s an idiot. I shouldn’t put myself so low. But what should I do? You keep tellin’ me to change, but I try an’ I don‘t know if I actually am…’
‘Well, if you endured him all afternoon, your patience has certainly improved,’ Stanley chuckled, then stopped.
His sister was watching him seriously from the sink, her eyes downcast, and brow low. Her hands were settled on the bench behind her, and with a sniff she averted her sorry gaze to the world outside the window.

‘I’ll say thanks for the money Stan,’ she murmured quietly, ‘I got me’self a savin’s jar and a good pair of boots from the store - but I canna say thanks for makin’ me realise how lonely I really am…’

Stanley gulped uncomfortably. They’d never had this kind of conversation before - heart-to-heart talks had never been part of the Morris family traditions, and he wasn‘t sure he wanted them to start now.

‘You’ve got a whole lodgin’ house full o’ people an’ friends at work with respect an’ everythin’ for you - even with the Lansdale’s, I bet,’ Magda continued. ‘You’ll be goin’ back to your Halls soon too, eh?’
‘Um…this Monday. I got told this morning,’ he said uncomfortably.
‘Exactly. Welcomed back. But me? I’ve never really been liked - an’ that’s my fault, I know. But people just think it’s weird when I try and be nice now, as if there’s somethin’ wrong with me - people keep crackin’ jokes and everythin’ at the Pub, and I‘m the butt of each one…’
Stanley shuffled on the stool and bit his lip. ‘That won’t last forever, Magda,’ he tried to comfort, ‘that’s just people being people.‘ But she didn’t seem to be listening.

‘I just can’t get back to sittin’ around anymore since you turned up that day, with your strange laughter and crazy talk - my feathers are too ruffled up! You’ve got me obsessed with tryin’ to change for the better - makin’ me watch my reflection in every eye I come across to make sure I don’t mark myself and stain my name any more! I can’t stand it!’
Suddenly, her brother stood up and shook his head. ‘Magda, this is getting really creepy, you never normally talk like thi-’
‘-No! I don’t! But I deserve to do this to you, like you did to me!’ she snapped, standing up too, fists bunched up at her sides. ‘You don’t know how weird it was when you just suddenly appeared on the doorstep all those weeks ago - grown up, self-assured and smiling. You were such a little brat to live with before! Now you’re a responsible, well-respected young man with a good job and a bunch of friends who’ve stuck by you despite knowin’ your younger self. You ain’t in my shoes - but you keep comin‘, pretendin’ you are, tellin’ me what’s right for me an’ makin’ my head spin! You may have been able to change your own ways, but only I can tell me’self how to change mine.’

Suddenly, she moved unexpectedly, and in a few short moments was inches away from Stanley‘s face, nose to nose, pinning him against the kitchen wall firmly with a frighteningly strong grip.

‘Thanks for the money Stan,’ she said in low tones, ‘I really do appreciate your help - you’re a good little brother now, an’ I thank the heavens for it - I really do. But I just want to be left alone for a while, okay? No checkin’ up on me an’ remindin’ me I’ve got to convert, okay? It’s doin’ me head in, an’ I just want to do this the way I want to do this. I don’t mind the money - it’s really helpin’ me like you said! - I’m gettin’ the house done up an’ everythin’ in a little while. But please, unless somethin’ mad happens an’ you really need to see me, just leave me to deal with this me’self. You’ve helped me enough, you got me started…’

Silently, she pulled herself away with a sigh, and looking down, smiled loosely at her brother’s expression.
Stanley, still recovering from the shock, slowly righted himself and watched her cautiously as he got to his feet.
‘Don’t worry,’ his sister murmured, giving a light chuckle, ‘I won’t be havin’ any more ideas or fancies on men again for a while. Of that am sure. You can go home now, little Stan. You’ve probably got plenty o’ other worries to attend to, eh?…I‘ll be fine…‘

The young man blinked in the silence, and slowly moved unsteadily away across the room to get his coat. A strange kind of calm seemed to have descended on his sister, and backing away to the door he watched her smile at the floorboards.

‘Goodbye then?’ he stuttered uncertainly.
Magda looked up with her new quirky smile and nodded, ‘see you around, Stan…’



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Turnip05
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A little later than usual I know - but the dreaded maths coursework is back and consuming my life *drowns in unfinished pie charts*

I also saw a guy who came to do a talk on Cambridge University that looked a lot like how I imagine Francis in my head - all skinny and pale with wide eyes and everything - but he didn't have the personality (that would have been pretty wierd :P ).

Anyway, here's the next part...



The Gladys lodging house lounge could be thought of as a kind of forbidden lair for anyone who wasn’t Mr. Gladys. No-one was allowed entry unless invited directly, and even then, such an occasion was rare. The rule wasn’t exactly official or written up anywhere - it was just something that Penny had come to realise over time, having never seen any of the other residents dare to enter without being granted permission by Mr. Gladys’ booming voice from the other side of the door.
Therefore, when she found Francis sitting in one of the lounge’s grand floral armchairs, with a palette of watercolours and sketch book, she felt inclined to ask why he was there.

‘This room has…interesting wallpaper patterns,’ the artist replied calmly, still bent over his work with brush in hand, ‘it is a delightful source of inspiration when I’m feeling down. Mr. Gladys has never found out, and I don’t plan for him to do so in the future.’
He looked up and gave her his wide, closed smile. ‘And you?’
Penny blinked, ‘What?’
‘What are you doing here?’
The girl felt her cheeks redden guiltily, and then shrugged. ’I-I just wanted to see what it looked like. He’s always got it locked up, an’ I’ve never understood what could be so special ‘bout a room…’
The pale man gave a hiccupping laugh. ‘Nothing much. Unless you count the patterns…most of them are from a time when Thornton designs were popular, you know. You can tell by the exaggerated swirls at the end of each dividing line. The chairs, however, show a slight variation of Mustang and Frezzal. Very interesting when considered in a blue light. Although you have to make it especially strong to get anything that’s worthy of painting. And then…’

Penny sighed, and decided to switch off here, fixing a smile on her face for the now babbling artist, and looked bleakly around the room Mr. Gladys kept so secret in disappointment.
Like Francis had said, there wasn’t much to it.

A writing desk sat in one corner with ink and paper spread across its top messily, some documents bent at the edges as if keeping tab of something, and in the other corner a few bookshelves and chairs were spread against the wall where Francis sat. In front of the large, and possibly well-used fireplace (considering the amount of soot) there lay a large, scruffy, and possibly once expensive ornamental rug. The air smelled of tobacco from Mr. Gladys’s evening smoking sessions his wife was prone to complain about whenever she got the chance, his pipe collection hanging from a wooden rack nearby. Whether he used all of them or not, she had no clue, but most of them looked well polished and smart, some sporting fancily twisted handles and large, bowl-like pipe ends.

‘…I mean, would you? I don’t think the cat will mind.’
Penny came back to Francis in bewilderment, and stood in confusion of not having listened, wondering what on earth the question had been. The artist was watching her expectantly with his strange smile spread across his face, eyes wide as they waited for an answer.

‘Uh…‘ the girl started, but luckily - hearing the unwelcome sound of the front door being unlocked noisily - they were instantly alerted to the danger of Mr. Gladys.
Glancing quickly at the clock, they both saw the time and started out the lounge door together at once, Francis grabbing his water colours and sketch book in a flurry of arms, and Penny lifting up her skirts frantically as she ran out the door. Half four was the time that Mr. Gladys came home, and neither were willing to experience his bad side if caught on his private property.

They got out the room just as the front door opened, and with Francis quickly darting into the kitchen at an unusual speed for his normally cautious self, Penny was left standing nervously in the hall to see who it was.

‘…I wouldn’t do anything myself, Mr. Morris,’ came the loud voice of Mr. Gladys as the door swung inwards and two figures clambered into the house. ‘Like she said, you’ve done enough to help.’
‘But I feel so guilty now…’ Stanley replied to the older man, following behind, ‘I was just trying to mend things between us, but now I think I went completely overboard.’ The candle lighter rubbed his forehead in annoyance, and gave a start when he saw Penny.
‘Uh, hello?’ the girl said, grinning innocently.
‘Hello yourself,’ Mr. Gladys said with a frown, shouldering past the young man and looking Penny up and down suspiciously. ‘Hiding something are you?’
‘W-wha’?’
The old man smiled and gave a chuckle, ‘I can tell a guilty head from a mile away little one. My son and daughters gave me exceptional practise when they were bright and young. Knocked off one o’ Helen’s vases, eh? Eaten all her bramble pie?’ Mr. Gladys raised an eyebrow.
‘Oh no, no…I ain’t done anythin’!’ Penny argued, waving her hands, ‘nothin’ like that…’
The man frowned, and glanced around to notice the door to his room was open wide. He turned back to the girl. Penny said nothing.
Silently, he wandered inside.

‘What did you do, Penny?’ Stanley hissed, sidling over to the young girl as the older man walked away.
‘Nothin’! I just looked…’

Suddenly, there was a shout from inside, and Mr. Gladys came charging out with a wooden paintbrush in hand.
‘Mr. Norton!’ he bellowed. Something gave a huge thud in the kitchen and a muffled curse soon followed. ‘I’ve had enough of your little excursions into my office!’
The kitchen door was thrown open, and Francis was found rubbing a sore knee that had no doubt been the cause of the loud thudding sound as it whacked against the table top in alarm.
The young man looked up from where he sat, paints and paper scattered around him, and tried to smile.
‘You knew?’ he asked simply.
‘Paint marks! Brushes! Graphite sticks! Who knows what else has been left behind over these recent months!’ Mr. Gladys shouted, chucking down the paint brush in disgust, ‘and I don’t want to see them again! Understood?’
Francis watched with a pained expression as the brush landed on the stone floor with an echoing clatter, and nodded slowly.
‘Good!‘ Mr. Gladys cried, ‘now what did the missus here do? She had guilt written all over her face too!’
‘Well…nothing actually,‘ Francis answered quietly, recoiling away slightly from the man’s red face of anger, and wildly waving arms, ‘she only looked.’
Stanley heard a sigh of relief from Penny behind him as she heard her defence, and watched as the old man pursed his lips in disbelief.

‘Fine then,’ he finally growled, shifting up his belt haughtily, and glancing slowly between the two culprits with a fierce glare, ‘but I don’t want to catch either of you in there again, understand? No-one’s to set one foot in my room without authorisation unless the bloody house is burning down, and I‘m squawking and screaming from under my desk trying to save my bloody pension! Got it?’
The artist and girl both nodded obediently.
‘Right. Now stay out o’ my way you horrible lot!’

Shoving aside Stanley and Penny in the doorway, Mr. Gladys strode madly across the hallway and slammed his office door shut with a loud slam. The silence that followed was full of it’s echoes.
There was a pause before Stanley attempted to speak again, but before he could open his mouth, there was a sudden loud knocking at the door, rapid and impatient. All three blinked in surprise. It wasn’t usual for anyone to call at the door before six, and Mrs. Gladys had never been found without her keys…

‘I’ll er, get that shall I?’ Stanley said wearily as the other two woke up slowly from their Gladys inducted stupor.
Not waiting for a reply, and hearing a succession of angry grumbles come from Mr. Gladys in his now especially private room as he walked by the door, Stanley answered the door alone.

There on the doorstep stood a sickly pale looking Maisy, eyes dark rimmed, and a bundle of paper shoved in the crook of her arms messily, short red hair ruffled by the wind as she beamed up at the young man.

‘Y-you won’t believe what my s-sister found out!’ she cried in an unusually ecstatic and excited voice, hugging the paper close to her chest happily.
‘Maisy?’ Stanley exclaimed, ’shouldn’t you still be resting? I thought you were ill…‘
He stood aside anxiously as the red haired women bustled past him into the house, and gave her a concerned look.
‘Bother th-that! Y-you need to see all this!’ she cried over her shoulder, almost tripping over her own feet as she did so.

Stumbling quickly into the kitchen where Francis was standing at the door, she dumped the pile of papers across the dining table hurriedly, hands quickly searching through each sheet as she looked for specific pieces, thrusting them into Stanley’s hands so fast he had no time to even give them the briefest of glances.

‘S-so much evidence against them! And a-all l-legal and valid - Nina checked officially! S-some of it’s so serious, w-we may even have to i-involve the Guards! Can you b-believe it? We may have u-uncovered the b-biggest f-fraudsters in the country!’
Stanley scoured the latest pages to be thrown into his arms and stared in disbelief. Despite his sister’s bewildering outburst of frustration earlier that day, with its mind confusing after-effects and Mr. Gladys recent row, he was clear-headed enough to tell that this had really gotten serious.

‘The police might have to get involved?’ exclaimed a small voice behind him.
Turning suddenly, he found Penny looking up at him with a worried expression - and instantly remembered why.
She thinks this is about the Josephine’s money lending! Oh no, oh no, oh no…

Hiding the evidence in his arm swiftly so she couldn’t see it - and then feeling stupid as he realised she couldn’t read - Stanley tried to think of a quick cover-up. ‘I-it’s not…um…’
Unfortunately, Maisy had cottoned on to Penny’s questioning too at that moment, and seeing the eager steward open her mouth to spill the beans unaware, vigorously shook his head and mouthed ‘no!’ in the woman’s direction.
Maisy stopped and frowned, and from behind him he heard Penny say, ‘What? What’s wrong?’
‘N-nothing! I just-’
‘-um, yeah Stanley - w-what’s wrong?’ Maisy asked from his other side, now just as mystified ‘it’s only about th-the Lansdale’s.’

Stanley felt his heart skip a beat.

‘No! You’re not supposed to tell! I was trying to stop her from knowing!’ He gave a cry of frustration and buried his face in his hands.
‘Sh-she wasn’t supposed know?’ Maisy exclaimed, clasping her hand to her mouth, ‘I-I’m so s-sorry Stanley!’
‘The Lansdale’s?’ Penny said, turning from one adult to the other in obvious confusion, ‘I thought all this was about the Josephine’s an’ some money an’ stuff! Stanley, what’s goin’ on? What’re you stoppin’ me from knowin‘?’
Maisy glanced at Stanley desperately, and the young man simply gave a sigh and shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter now. I’ll just tell her. I’d have gotten my comeuppance for being dishonest sometime or other anyway…’

Penny looked sadly at the candle lighter, ‘So, you really were lyin’ to me...’
‘What?’ It was Stanley’s turn to be confused.
The girl smiled and gave a shake of her head, ‘I sort of suspected when I first asked you ‘bout why everyone was up in the attic a few days back. You just seemed so unsure about the whole thing that I found it a lil’ unbelievable that you were so clueless. I thought perhaps you were just tryin’ to protect me an’ stuff like you always do - whether it’s from Gordon and Vince, or troubles like this. An’ I was gonna ask you an‘ see if I was right, but every time I tried, I realised it’s just you ain’t it? You‘re too nice for your own good, makin‘ sure am happy an‘ safe…’
Stanley felt himself redden and Penny laughed. ‘I think you could see when I wanted to ask you - you questioned me on Thursday seein’ if I was alright an’ if somethin’ was up.’
The young man suddenly remembered and nodded with realisation.
‘Of course. You were acting really weird - going silent all the time. I thought something really bad had happened!’
The eleven year-old giggled, ‘No. Just your lyin’…’

Stanley sighed, ‘I’m really sorry Penny.’
‘It’s no problem…like I said, I sort of suspected. And I am just a kid, I guess.’
He was surprised at this last comment and raised his eyebrows - it wasn’t like Penny to admit to being a child - but didn’t say anything. He had other things to worry about now…

Maisy stepped forward with a few paper‘s in hand warily. ‘Well, um, s-since that’s out th-the way…I hope...sh-shall we figure out t-to do with all this?’
They both glanced at the pile and grimaced.

‘Definably,’ Stanley replied, turning from Penny with an apologetic smile and taking the sheets from the steward.
‘We’ve a lot to go through…’


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Turnip05
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Majestic Turnip
Bleagh, I'm really tired so who knows what kind of rubbish I've ended this section with :P

Next part!




The afternoon soon ran on quickly into the evening, with Penny scurrying off to the Halls slightly later than she should of, and Maisy explaining she was still officially on sick leave, so it was alright for her to be skiving.

As far as Stanley was concerned the steward wasn’t just officially on sick leave, she was most definably on sick leave. After Penny had disappeared off to the Halls, Maisy had immediately gone into a hot flush, complaining about a terrible headache before throwing up in the sink. Repeatedly.
It had not been pretty, and the young man had strictly stopped her from working on the Lansdale’s again until the colour had returned back to her cheeks.

Annoyed by this, Maisy sat and watched him sort through the documents grumpily.
‘C-can’t I do s-something?’ she muttered, clinging to her knees as she sat on Mrs. Gladys’s stool by the sink.
Stanley sighed and glanced across at the red-head over his shoulder. ‘It probably won’t do you any good to concentrate on anything, or read. If you really want something to do, you could think of what to do with all this information. I mean, we can summarise it all and show it to Nina and Johnny to check - but then what? The police? The Blue Willow Courier company?’
‘Well, I g-guess th-they’ll both need to know in the long run.’
‘Hmm…’ The young man frowned and turned back to the papers. ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t be doing this. I mean, we’re aren’t exactly experts are we? We shouldn’t be involved with this kind of thing - we might even have to go to court as witnesses or for testimonies or whatever, and I really don’t think I could handle that…’
‘It is all p-pretty bad stuff, I-I guess,’ Maisy murmured thoughtfully. ‘Will my s-sister be in?’
‘You tell me,’ Stanley replied, shrugging, ‘I‘ve only ever seen her around just after lunch though…’
Maisy sighed and started to get up from the stool, ‘I’ll g-go check then.’
‘Wait - wait! You rest - I’ll go,’ Stanley quickly told her, standing up, ’I don’t think Mr. Gladys would be very happy to find his stairs covered in vomit if you happen to sick up again…’

Receiving a sulky pout from the Cork’s eldest as he went out the kitchen, Stanley jogged up the couple of flights of stairs to the top landing, feeling intrusive as he knocked on the attic trapdoor and called out for Nina.
There was a muffled reply before the entrance was pulled open to reveal the magnified eyes of the short accountant, staring down at him through her thick lenses and making her look very much like a giant, bug-eyed insect.

‘Oh! Hello Mr. Morris,’ she said in surprised tones, blinking behind her glasses, ‘what is it? Do you want to come up, because-’
‘-No, no, Nina. It’s alright,‘ the young man assured, shaking his head, ‘but um…your sister came over a couple of hours ago with all the papers you sent her, and we just wanted some confirmation on what to do with them. I mean, we’ve been looking through all the evidence this afternoon, but now we’ve filed it out and seen what‘s there, we don’t know what to do...’
The woman laughed and started unhooking a ladder from her room, sliding it professionally into the hallway so she could get down.
‘I was just considering going over to the house to ask her that myself,’ Nina said with a chuckle, ‘and get a few of the papers back. They’re not all from work you know.’
Stanley blinked, ‘what?’
‘Well, most of the criminal records were given to me from a friend at the Guard station in Shellton Street after I requested to look at a few reports around the times the Lansdale’s claimed to have moved from their old job to their current - information I got from the Courier archives. Do you really think a press company would have that kind of information on their own workers and not have noticed?’
Stanley blushed, feeling stupid.
‘Although, you must wonder how the police never investigated these connections,’ Nina commented as she pushed the ladders back up into the loft with a little hooked pole she’d taken out with her.
Stanley shook his head and followed the accountant back down the stairs. ‘I don’t think they would have considered the Lansdale’s starting all this up again on their own to be honest. They took a lot of risks.’
‘Ah yes. The other people they worked with before are all caught and jailed, aren‘t they?’
The young man nodded in reply.
‘Anyway,’ Nina sighed, reaching the first floor landing, ‘let’s not start needlessly listing the details - we know all those. Let’s just concentrate on what to do with them…’



Half an hour later, Francis had been called down from his room to send a thick package of notes and records to Guy’s brother at the printing press, and Maisy was throwing up in the sink again.

‘I didn’t realise you were ill yesterday,’ Nina claimed fretfully as she washed the mess away with a bucket of water, ‘otherwise, I would have gone over to see you and delivered the parcel myself, instead of having Stanley do it.’
‘I-it’s alright, Nina,’ Maisy assured blearily, accepting the glass of water from Stanley to wash out her mouth.
‘Do you th-think Francis will b-be okay going all the way across town f-for Johnny?’ she asked.
‘Of course. He knows the way,’ Stanley said with a reassuring smile, but nevertheless found himself glancing up at the kitchen clock worriedly.

Hopefully, the artist would get there before the printing press closed, and perhaps after talking the plan through with Johnny, get the Josephine to send the evidence on to the Blue Willow Courier company before the night was over. Otherwise, that would be Nina’s job the next morning - but if she had to bring it, then that would mean less time for everything to get done before Monday when hopefully, the newsletter would be published.

On the whole, whether the company learned of the Lansdale’s corruption tomorrow or tonight, the criminal couple were still being caught in the act. The police would no doubt be notified by the Blue Willow Courier office, so Stanley, Maisy and Guy would have no more to do with the discovery and arrest. Sure, it meant they probably wouldn’t get any credit for their work, but Stanley didn’t feel he’d done much anyway, and from what had happened the last time the spotlight had been on him, he didn’t want to be in the public eye again any time soon…

He sighed and rubbed his neck. At least he didn’t have to cover up all this palaver for Penny. Now he could tell her straight to her face without worrying himself over lies.

‘I think perhaps I should get Maisy home now, Mr, Morris,’ Nina spoke up, pulling her sister onto her feet, ‘she can rest better there.’
‘I-I’m fine,’ the red head protested, trying to sit herself back down again, ‘really! I w-want to wait for Francis and s-see what’s going to happen.’
‘Nonsense!’ Nina declared, pulling on her sisters arm, ‘you know fine well what’s going to happen. The Lansdale’s will be put down for what they’ve done to this country, and locked up in jail by Monday night! Now come on - Mother’ll be in a state if she knows you’ve been making your condition worse-’
‘-I’m h-hardly sitting in a p-plague house, Nina-’ Maisy retorted.
‘-Well she’ll want you home in bed where she can see you, won’t she? You need proper looking after!’
Maisy’s cheeks flushed an angry red at this, and pulled her arm determinedly away from her sister’s grip. ‘I’m n-not a child, Nina! Why are you always s-so stupidly unreasonable about th-things like this?’

A solid silence fell over the room, and it was plain to see a full blown argument was about to break out between the two siblings. The two women glared at each other heatedly, and it was all Stanley could do but to step forward and try and calm them down before things went…awry…
However, before he could speak, Nina turned sharply in his direction and straightened herself up haughtily.

‘Do you think I’m unreasonable Stanley?’ she asked stiffly, hands on hips, and lips pursed dangerously.
Stanley cringed inside. Women just had this way of bullying you into the most awkward of situations didn’t they?
‘Er, I don’t think I can really-’
‘-O-oh, such a mature tactic, Nina,’ crooned Maisy from behind her sister, saving Stanley from his impending doom. ‘L-let’s just put the pressure on s-someone else now, shall we? Just l-let me stay until F-Francis comes back for goodness sake! I-I’m hardly dying, am I?’
Nina screwed up her face. ‘Well you’re certainly getting worked up and stroppy for someone who’s fine and dandy about everything!’ she answered back.
I’m getting stroppy?’

Suddenly there was a horrendous thumping through the wall between the kitchen and Mr. Gladys’s office, making the two girls leap out of their skin, and Stanley groan.
‘Shut up, the lot of you!’ shouted a gruff voice as the thumping stopped, ‘or I’ll have your guts for garters! I’m trying to get some peace and bloody quiet! Knock it off!’
Maisy gave a squeak as there was another thump from the room, and gave the other two a terrified look.
It took a few moments for Stanley to actually realise why, and remembered Maisy hadn’t ever met Mr. Gladys.
‘W-who was that?’ she whispered, having somehow gone paler than she already was.
‘Oh, er, just Mr. Gladys,’ Stanley told her with a weak smile. ‘He owns the lodging house with his wife, and he er, had an argument with Penny and Francis earlier on which, evidently, hasn’t put him in a good mood…’
‘I’ll say,’ Maisy murmured, glancing at the wall warily.

It seemed to have done the trick to stop the Cork sisters from fighting though, and with a reluctant sigh, Nina sat down at the table.
‘Fine Maisy. You can stay ‘til Francis comes back. But then you’re going back home. Understand?’ the red head declared.
‘Fine, fine,’ Maisy agreed, pulling a face…

Now the problem seemed to Stanley, was what to do to pass the time.
Personally he just wanted to go up to his room and rest - forget about his tiring day with Magda and all the Lansdale dilemmas - but he would never be so discourteous to the two sisters.
Maisy would probably be fine just sitting around, settling her stomach and trying not to barf everywhere, but Nina on the other hand was already getting restless, tapping her fingers impatiently on the wooden table top and staring flatly out of the window at the scraggy lodging house garden.

‘Do you have any work you need doing, Nina? Because it’s alright if you want to go back upstairs…’ he said a few minutes later, noticing the way she’d occasionally glance up at the ceiling as if longing to get back up.
The woman looked over at the other two uncertainly and said, ‘you wouldn’t mind? I mean, there’s this report I need in tomorrow and-’
‘-I-it’s fine. It a-annoys me when you’re b-bored anyways - y-you just don’t stop fidgetting,’ Maisy chuckled.
Nina blushed, and stopped her table-tapping. ‘Oh, well. If you really don’t mind…’
‘Not at all,’ Stanley assured.
Nina hesitated for a moment, and then beamed, springing up happily from her chair. ‘Then I guess I’ll see you later then. And um, can you knock when Francis comes? I can never hear the door…’
‘Of course.’
With another smile and brief ‘thank you‘, the accountant gladly trotted out the room and was heard eagerly scurrying up the stairs to her room.
‘She likes her work then,’ Stanley said, laughing.
‘Well, sh-she certainly likes maths,’ Maisy confirmed, rolling-her-eyes.

Smiling slightly, the red head turned to the view her sister had been contemplating before, and then grimaced at the sight. It was raining outside, the dark of the evening made worse by the heavy grey clouds, and the spattering of raindrops loud as they hit against the glass with quick, leaden ‘thuds‘.
‘Nice w-weather,’ she commented blandly, and slumped against the bench to stare. Stanley joined her, leaning on the top and slowly beginning to feel mesmerised by the rhythmic beat of the rain.

After while though, he couldn’t help but think of Francis out there in the gloomy weather, scurrying around with a message he knew nothing about, and hoped with a bit of luck, that the artist had found the printing press in time to catch Johnny…or at least got out of the rain…

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BiteyBoy
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Grrrrrr im not happy :angry: i was using my laptop outside whilst on the trampoline and i was half way through and the batter ran out.! soo i guess ill have to read it alll again.! :( :bitey:
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Woo
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Queen of all! bow before my might!
so sorry I havent commented in a while! still amazing and gripping, and I hope nothing is badly wrong with Maisy. even if you are tired, the whole thing is still great. :D
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BiteyBoy
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Finally read that is a well dteailed story do some more please.!
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Turnip05
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Majestic Turnip
Yay! Another reader! - Thanks Woo and BiteyBoy :D

And don't worry - Maisy just has a stomach bug - she ain't gonna die or anything :P

This part's shorter than normal (by about 500 words - I checked :bing: ) so sorry. I left it until late to get this next part written...




‘They got ‘em! They bloody got ‘em nailed!’ cried Johnny ecstatically, laughing in disbelief at the lump of documents he had finished reading only moments ago.
Francis smiled and gave a hiccupping laugh by the printing works kitchen fireside, attempting to dry out his soaking clothes as he watched the press worker punch the air triumphantly, drawing strange looks from the other workers in the noisy printing press.

Despite the fact that Francis had ran to the printing works under the cover of nearby trees and wide shop hatches, he had still managed to get absolutely drenched. The papers, luckily, hadn’t even been marked with one single speck of rain tucked inside his coat, and his important package had been delivered safely into the arms of the Josephine’s eldest as planned.

‘Have they enough evidence to convince the Lansdale’s guilty, Mr. Josephine?’ Francis asked the celebrating press worker. The big man turned to him and gave a wide grin.
‘Plenty to scare the two buggers into confession, no doubt. Not enough hard evidence just to turn it in to the Guards on it’s own I’m afraid - interviews with other Blue Willow Courier employees would need to be organised for confirmation on Donald’s suspicious behaviour in the accounts room. But other than that - Miss Cork’s done a delightful job in puttin’ this all together!’
The Josephine’s eldest laughed again, and began sliding the papers back in their package smoothly.

‘So, now you say they want me to run along and get this all told to the Blue Willow Courier head office?’ he asked.
Francis nodded. ‘Yes. They said you had the correct authority to do so without question.’
‘Heh, they got that right. I better be going before they close up shop then, eh?’
‘Oh, um, yes…’ the artist murmured quietly, watching as Johnny got up from his seat eagerly. The big man stalled as the artist said this though, and turned curiously back to the pale man, wearing an expression of confusion.
‘Something wrong Mr. Norton?’
‘No, um…I just…‘ Francis smiled weakly and shook his head, ‘I just don’t know anything about the actual crime the Lansdale’s have committed, that‘s all. I’ve been sent to deliver the evidence - I know it has something to do with the company that they work for, and how successful they are - but other than that, I am completely clueless to what’s going on here…’

Johnny blinked in surprise, and then laughed nervously. ‘Uh, well…it’s a little complicated to explain quickly I guess, but…have you ever heard of the Fraudster Five?’
‘The Fraudster Five?’ Francis repeated, eyebrows raised, ‘They were a group of famous criminals that used to target small journalistic businesses weren’t they? After using their own writing genius to bring in big money and customers for the targeted company, they would fraud off as much of the profit as they could, and be out of town before anyone had even registered the illegal transaction. They operated for years. I remember hearing about them when I was child of twelve - they collapsed the Back Horse Express office situated in the capital. It was big news all over the country - a major case of fraud like that. But…weren’t three of the Fraudster five caught and jailed? Aren’t there only two…left…’ Francis paused. ‘Oh.’
‘Exactly, Mr. Norton - an’ this beauty of a package here contains plenty of evidence to prove the Lansdale’s are those missing two. The similarity between what the Fraudster Five did before striking, and what the Lansdale’s are doing now is uncanny - not to mention the descriptions of the last of the Fraudster group are pretty close to the current descriptions of the Lansdale’s….barring Donald’s moustache…’
Francis smiled widely at this and nodded, seeing the big picture at last. ‘And the Blue Willow Courier…it was once a small newsletter wasn’t it? Six months ago you would never have heard of it - but now it is published in all good corner shops across the city.’
‘An’ six months ago the Lansdale’s joined the business as writer and reporter. Their enthusiasm for work’s brought popularity and fame to the newsletter - as well as rivalry amongst the other employees. That’s where the suspicion began all those months ago, an’ there’s a lot of other stuff too…’
‘Of course,’ Francis nodded, ‘I see. Thank you. It makes far more sense now.’
‘No problem. I just can’t believe they kept you in the dark - something’ big like this.’ Johnny questioned, shaking his head.
‘There wasn’t time to explain, I guess…’
Nodding, Johnny glanced up at the printing work’s giant wall clock, and then suddenly pulled a face. ‘Talking of time, I need to get going. Tell Nina and them they’re bloody brilliant figurin’ all this out, and I’m on my way to sort it all out now, okay? See you!’
‘I will, bye...’

Quickly, the big man gave a short wave over his shoulder, and hurriedly escaped the building for the Blue Willow Courier office, diving into the cloak rooms for his coat as he went past. Pushing out the doors in such a rush, he received even more strange looks than before from his celebrations.
‘Is Johnny alright?’ asked a nearby worker, who’s wet apron was a mess of blue and black ink, ‘is there an emergency?’
Francis gave a hiccup and replied with his customary wide smile. ‘In some respect, I‘d say yes - but I think you’ll be finding out for yourself when Monday comes…’



‘Any fours?’
‘G-go fish…’
The sound of sliding cards filled the dull silence of the lodging house kitchen, and with a sigh Maisy contemplated the cup of tea beside her.
She hadn’t managed to keep anything down apart from a dry cracker earlier on that evening, so Stanley was making her a drink every five minutes. She’d already taken three trips to the bathroom in the last hour, and she was afraid to sweeten her tea with sugar lest it provoked the wrong kind of action from her stomach.

‘Sorry, are you getting sick of this?’ Stanley said apologetically as he noticed the red head’s tired look.
‘Oh n-no, don’t worry. I-I’m not feeling the need t-to join Nina and her maths, s-so I shouldn’t fret,’ Maisy grinned wearily.
Stanley smiled back and glanced up at the clock. ‘It’s nearly time…want to come pick up Penny with me after this game?’
The woman shook her head, ‘n-no thanks. I think I just want to p-put my head down for a while. M-my headache’s coming back...’
There was a pause as she looked down at her cards. ‘Got any aces?’
‘Go fish…’



‘This is an extraordinary and disturbing discovery Mr. Josephine, and I thank you greatly for bringing it to my attention - the Police will be informed as soon as possible,’ the Blue Willow Courier manager praised to Johny as he gathered up the now well-travelled evidence on the Lansdale‘s from his desk, ‘but I must ask - who is this Nina Cork who has compiled this collection of evidence?’
Johnny stared at the manager in disbelief of the man’s ignorance, and quickly cleared his throat. ‘Uh, she’s one of your own employees, sir.’ he remarked awkwardly.

There was a long silence as the manager slowly began to flush. Beside him, an assistant leaned forwards and whispered in his ear.
‘O-oh, wait, my accountant?’ the man chuckled nervously as the assistant rolled their eyes, ’Th-the lady with the frizzy hair and spectacles - looks like a stick-insect, yes?’
‘Well, you could describe her that way, sir…I guess,’ Johnny answered, knowing that such a description would have his friend in a boiling fit.
‘Ah, right. Then I must offer the kind lady a substantial reward for bringing this all to my notice. Lord knows what would have happened in the near future if she hadn’t found all this out! It’s a great shame to lose two such exceptional journalists - but even more of a shame if our business is crippled! A-hah.’
‘Hmm…’

As the conversation continued in the office, out of sight, and standing quietly terrified behind the door of the Blue Willow Courier manager’s office, a rather guilty and distressed figure of Donald Lansdale began to slowly make his way across the hallway towards his office.
Opening the door and sliding himself inside quietly, he gently leant against the wood and let it close behind him with a sweet ‘click’.

At his desk, and looking her usual happy self when in the process of typing out scandal and praise for the next Courier issue, sat his wife, Tetra. The woman suddenly stopped typing, and with a manic giggle, she drove the typewriter carriage along for a new line, smiling gleefully as it ‘pinged’.
Donald had been worried about his wife’s sanity for a long while now, and had noticed her slow decline into madness with unease. Lately, she had been forgetting the whole point of joining the Blue Willow Courier, and had instead engrossed herself in her writing and gossip, her obsession growing larger and more uncontrollable. Without the others in the group around anymore to remind her that it was the money they were after, not the job, she was becoming increasingly distracted.

Not that it matters anymore - not now they know our game… Donald thought bitterly. At least we’ve still got the money from the last two escapades - we’ll just pick it all up and find somewhere to lay low for a while…yes, we‘ve managed to get away all the other times, nobody‘s caught us yet…we‘ll be fine…

‘Sweetheart?’ he called gently, walking quietly towards his wife and trying his best to stay calm.
She looked up from her work and gave her husband a cheerful smile, ‘Hmm?’
‘I’m afraid I have some quite disquieting news to tell you…’

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Woo
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Queen of all! bow before my might!
:o
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Turnip05
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Urgh - I'm very sorry - this isn't an update, but I need to say I've been on work experience all week, and what with the extra hours of work, long walk home, feeling tired, still having to help out at Guides, and actually sleep - I've had no time or the mind to get on with writing an update :yfok:

Sorry, but things are a little hectic and other things have taken priority - hope I can get this done soon :(
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aww! BIG HUG! *big hug* no need to rush it, and other things are totaly more important, so no need to worry about that. I'll be fine with waiting. ^_^
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Thanks for the wait :)

but - Oh joys of joys - I've got lots of lovely exams and coursework to complete and revise for these next two months :yfok: School's taking over at the moment as it does when you're 15, so I apologize in advance for any further delays like this one :bfoot:




Steam and heat pushed back at Penny as she entered the busy Renwick Banquet Hall kitchen at the end of her shift, her vision going wild for a moment before her eyes adjusted to the seemingly hectic, yet organised chaos of the room.

At seven o’ clock the Central Grand Hall was open for evening entertainment, meaning the kitchens had quarter of an hour before the waiters trotted in to fetch the customers requested feast - whether in the popular miniature bite-size form, or as a full-blown three course dinner. The lamps and chandeliers would already be clipped and lit on time to Penny’s smug delight, leaving her to watch and follow the amusing rush in the kitchen before Stanley came to pick her up.

As she sidled along one of walls away from the busy bodies and frantic cooks, a figure appeared through the cloud of steam, revealing a cheerful looking Gloria who was bounding happily over to the candle girl with a wide tray of munchies in hand.
‘Wondered when you’d be coming!’ the woman called in her usual merry way, hustling through the crowd of cooks to get to the girl. ‘Stanley joining us soon?’
‘Uh, I think,’ Penny replied hesitantly, ‘there’s been a few things goin’ on tonight in the house, so he might be a little late.’
‘Oh, what’s happening?’ the cook inquired, turning away for a moment to put her heavy tray down on a nearby bench top.
Penny thought about this, and then bit her lip, watching as Gloria turned back with an expectant smile. It would probably be best if she said as little as possible about the Lansdale‘s - she really wasn’t that certain about what was going on herself...
‘I’m um…not sure - Maisy came over wantin’ to talk to Stanley, so I’m guessin’ she stayed over for tea too,’ she quickly made up, ‘he might take her home before pickin’ me up or…somethin‘.’
The woman’s eyebrows shot up. ’Maisy? But isn’t she ill?’
‘Oh, um, yeah, yeah!’ Penny assured quickly, ‘at least she certainly looked in a state when I saw her before - all pale and pasty. But she came to the door all flushed and flurried, so I think it was a pretty urgent reason for her to get out of bed…’
The woman’s eyebrows stayed raised to Penny‘s unease, but she nodded slowly.
‘Alright-’ she started, but a loud, sudden crashing cut her off, a boisterous clatter sounding out from the other side of the kitchen, accompanied by loud cries and curses - a whole gust of steam clearing away to reveal a scene of chaos and mess with a loaded trolley trailing its goods across the floor as it swung away from a panicking waiter.
‘It’s the potato pancakes with avocado salsa!’ someone yelled up to Gloria urgently through the sudden noise, and the woman turned her head quickly towards them in response, pulling her shoulders back resolutely.
‘Were there extras?’ she bawled back just as loudly, instantly on command.
‘I think you had a tray, ma’am - but-’
‘-right!’
Quickly, the cook turned and lifted up the remembered tray she’d left on a nearby bench, and pulled herself round to face the shouting cook again. ‘Got them! No worries! I’ll get it down there, Michael!’
With a quick nod to Penny, she shortly left the young girl where she stood, and dashed down the aisle with her laden tray - hurriedly saving the day as the other cooks bustled out of her way, pushing past them authoritatively.

There was a moment of frantic work as things were dazzlingly re-organised and re-piled on the troublesome trolley, the waiter who’d caused the mishap standing guiltily out of the way whilst being chastised by a fellow worker.
It was only a matter of seconds before the trolley was ready to go out into the hall again, and then Gloria was forcing her way back over to Penny, now tray-less and red faced.
‘Is everything alright?’ a nearby cook called out nervously to the head cook.
‘Fine! Fine!’ Gloria claimed, dusting one of her hands on her apron as she strode along, ‘simple spillage, nothing to worry about! Just a clumsy waiter. Get back to work now, Dorris.’

As the woman got nearer however, the young girl noticed something odd in her other hand.
Quickly reaching Penny’s side, Gloria quietly ducked down by her ear and outstretched her mysteriously filled hand.
I was hoping to save one for you, and another for Stanley when he got here,’ Gloria explained in a whisper, thrusting what Penny now realised was one of the recently endangered potato pancakes into her hand, ‘that’s why I had the tray - but I think we can only spare one now after all that.
Penny blinked for a few moments, and then grinned. ‘Thanks! ’ she whispered back.
Taking the wrap happily, the young girl inspected the package of food with interest. ‘Are you sure? ‘Cause it looked pretty crazy over there-’
Gloria laughed loudly, and then stood back on her feet again shakily. ‘Oh, don‘t you worry about that, love! she chuckled, voice back to normal again, ‘they shouldn’t miss one little dish!’
Penny giggled too and glanced down at the pancake hungrily. ‘I don’t think I would have been able to just leave it anyway.’
To this, she eagerly dug her teeth into the appetizingly cram-packed pancake, knowing fine well how good the Hall kitchen’s food always tasted - especially when suggested and given by Gloria. The cook chuckled as Penny gave an approving ‘Mmmm’ with her first mouthful, and nodded at a job well done.
‘Taste good?’
‘Strange flavour….but nice!’
The woman laughed again. ‘Bespoke finger food for a favourite patron of the Manager’s. He always requests a few tray loads of these each time he calls - were always picnicking on them here in the kitchen.’
Penny nodded and took another munch.
‘Anyway, I hear Stanley’s coming back to us tomorrow - is it true?’
There was a gulp as the girl swallowed her food, ‘Yeah - he got a proper notice through the door an everythin’. He’s back in the business now, so I won’t have to come down so early on me own.’
‘Ah! Well, we’ll be very glad to have him back!’ Gloria stated brightly, moving away to a nearby bench to get on with her neglected cooking, ‘I’m glad to see this Lansdale scandal didn’t mess him up completely. So many others have been quickly tipped off by the Manager because of those two villains over the last half year, it’s about time somebody didn’t suffer so permanently!’
‘Yeah - am glad too…’

Finishing off the rest of the pancake and licking her lips, Penny glanced up at the kitchen clock to see that time was running out fast. Stanley would probably be arriving at the entrance anytime soon…

‘I think I better go now, Gloria,’ she said to the cook, holding her breath as she saw the woman turn round in the middle of chopping up a cucumber, the knife’s edge dancing around her swift fingers dangerously. Despite the amount of times she’d seen Gloria do it, she had never gotten used to the woman‘s multi-tasking miracles.
‘That the time already?’ the cook replied, oblivious to her hypnotising hands, ‘well I’ll see you tomorrow then Penny! Have a nice night!’
‘Oh um, you too,’ the girl answered, eyes flicking warily over the woman’s furiously moving fingers. ‘Bye.’
Giving Gloria‘s hands one last worried glance, the girl turned away to get her coat before leaving.

Sometimes she would just leave her stuff in the store cupboard as it was easier, and got it out of the way - but it was cold and clammy in the old, dusty closet room. In the kitchen it got nicely toasted and warm, perfect for the cold walks home in the bitter winter evenings.
Smiling gleefully as she pulled on her said cosy coat, she glanced quickly around the room for anything else she might have forgotten and-
'Oi! Boy pants!’
- swiftly prepared to kill a certain fat scrubber lad.

‘Oi yourself!’ she called back to Vince routinely, who was standing tauntingly beside the sink as always. ‘An’ these are workin’ pants!’
‘Whatever, boy pants. You forgot your hat.’
Penny blinked, and watched as the teenager held up her old brown cap. For a moment she actually believed Vince was being nice for once - and then realised that he was holding it up with his lathered, soggy washing-up gloves.
‘Hey! Don’t get it wet!’ she cried running up to him and snatching it from his grasp angrily.
‘It was already wet anyway - it fell in the sink.’
‘You put it in the sink?’ Despite asking, she could already feel by the material that he must have. It was absolutely soaked.
I didn’t put it in the sink - Gordon did.’ Vince retorted simply, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.
‘Hey! I didn’t put it in!’ the other boy exclaimed defensively, turning towards his friend in annoyance. ‘It fell in!’
‘Who cares - what am I supposed to do now if it’s rainin’ outside?’ Penny asked wretchedly, waving the soggy cap in their faces.
‘Well, we’ve proved it wasn’t exactly waterproof anyway, so…’
Penny scowled and felt her insides curdle as both of the boys laughed out-loud.
‘Shut up!’
‘Keep your pants on shrimp - it’s only a joke!’ Vince mocked, smirking.
‘But that washin’ up water’s disgustin’! It’ll have allsorts on it now! Mrs. Gladys’ll kill me!’ she wailed.
‘Well, won’t that be a sha- mffg!’
Vince struggled as Gordon slapped his hand over his blathering mouth, but then stopped as suddenly as he had started, eyes widening in astonishment at something Penny couldn‘t see. Both were now staring at something just beyond her shoulder, and in confusion she watched Gordon slide his hand slowly away from Vince’s mouth and give a manically apologetic grin.
Puzzled, Penny began to turn - but just as she did so, a heavy hand came down firmly on her shoulder, fingers gripping it defensively.

‘Something wrong?’ came Stanley’s humourless voice from above her, and looking up she saw him stare down seriously at the two scrubber lads.
‘N-no sir!’ Gordon stuttered, backing away ever so slightly as he looked up to Stanley‘s extra foot in height, ‘we were just...just err-’
‘-it weren’t our fault it fell in the damn sink!’ Vince blubbered suddenly, and crowded behind his fellow worker frantically.
Stanley blinked and gave the boy a questioning stare.
‘Uh, my cap,’ Penny explained, feeling Stanley turn to her, ‘it was just my cap - it fell in the sink, that’s all. It’s alright really - it’s not bad, Stanley.’
‘And the laughing?’ he demanded, looking back at the boys.
‘It was only a joke, sir! We didn’t mean it!’
They smiled warily, and then let out a sigh of relief as Stanley slid his hand off of Penny’s shoulder and let his gaze drop to her face instead of theirs‘.

‘Sorry I’m a little late Penny,’ he murmured, ‘but Francis turned up from an errand just as I was about to go fetch you and…well, things got pretty distracting - in a good way, though, so don‘t worry...’
He peered down at the two scrubber lads who were still standing nearby, and watched with amusement as they both gave a startled yelp and turned away back to their work swiftly, glancing at each other with nervous looks as they got back to the dishes.
‘…I’ll tell you the details on the way back,’ he finished, smiling…
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Woo
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wow, way to go Stanley! :D

yea, exams are hell I have my GSCE's this month and I'm freaked to the bone but trying to keep it all down. -.- its not exactly fun. best of luck though, I'm sure you're going to do great.
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Turnip05
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Woo: Best of luck to you too! :bfoot: Thanks for the support :D

Next part! A change of scene...




His hammering footsteps, her heavy breath, and in the distance a leaden bell. Ringing. Ringing out their escape…

Donald gasped as he turned the corner of the alley, and heaved with his all his remaining strength to knock against the back door of the old Grape Vine bar desperately, shouting out a practically incoherent password for the bar-tender to let him in.
Behind him, Tetra was dishevelled, a look of panic strikingly clear in her wide eyes and her white knuckled hands grasping her handbag with nightmare fear.
‘W-what if they don’t answer, Donald?’ she stammered, watching as her husband hammered on the door again. ‘Oh God! - what if they turn us in, Donald? What do we do?!’
He paused in his mad beating, and drew in a hissing breath.
‘One. They won’t be doing any such thing - Fred owes me too much,’ he hissed, turning to face his wife in frustration, ‘and two. It’s not bloody Donald anymore...we need new names.’
‘Again?’ “Tetra” questioned, ‘but what about our old ones? Why not use our real ones?…just for once…’
But he didn‘t seem to be listening.
‘You’ll be Claire,’ he muttered as he frantically peered in to the back room through a small, grubby little window, ‘And I’ll be Arthur. Surname Davidson. Okay, sweetheart? Got that?’
He pulled himself round and looked at her expectantly.
She was standing silent where she stood, staring at her hands that were still stained black from her typewriter work that morning, her face strangely blank.

She’d typed so fast in her work at the office before, that the typewriter had jammed suddenly, crushing the paper and messing up the ink strip. After dragging out the trapped and ruined article she’d been working on, she had managed to coat her hands in the black-brown ink, her fingers lined with the stuff as she’d tried to re-adjust the strip. Nothing to worry about of course - she could just scrub it off at the sink later on. But when she tried…she just simply couldn’t. No matter how hard she washed and scrubbed, bearing down harshly with the hard bristled brush, the ink wouldn’t budge, stained like a tattoo, clinging to her skin as if silently protesting to be forgotten.
Back then, she had just seen it as a nuisance. But now, it seemed so much more like an omen…

‘Sweetheart?’ cut her husband’s voice through her thoughts, making her look up abruptly.
‘I…I should have known this was coming, Donald,’ she whispered fearfully, ‘I saw a sign…’
Staring in disbelief “Donald” thought quickly. We don’t have time for this crazy talk, damnit!
‘Darling,’ he soothed as softly as he could manage in his frantic state, ‘Tetra is ready to be captured and stuck in jail if we stick around for any longer contemplating the past. Claire is coming with me and getting away from this disaster. Understand? A new life. A new name. Just say yes and take my hand…’
His wife paused for a moment and watched silently as he outstretched his hand.
‘Will…will she have gossip? Rumours and fun like Tetra?’ she asked excitedly, eyes widening at the thought of such a prospect.
Her husband bit his lip in worry, but decided to play nice.
‘Oh yes. Plenty! - better gossip even! Some that no-one will have even have ever heard of in this city. And we won’t have nasty police chasing us either, so won’t that be nice?’
Tetra’s eyes brightened at this considerably, and enthusiastically she nodded. ‘Really?’
‘Very really.’
Clapping her hands gleefully as she always did in her happy moments, Mrs. “Lansdale” ran up to her husband and clung to his arm happily, pressing her face to his shoulder.
‘That’s right, sweetheart. So? Are we cleaning the slate? A new name?’ He watched her carefully and saw her bright eyes smile.

‘Yes,’ Claire answered obediently, and looked up to him with expressed loyalty.
Arthur grinned, cat-like. ‘Good. Very good...’

Suddenly, interrupting with a horrible clatter, the back door to the Grape Vine was finally thrown open - practically hurled off its hinges - and in it’s place stood a burly looking man, a thick, heavy brow curling over his small, squinty little eyes, and expression gruff.
‘Get in you buggers!’ he hissed, ushering the couple into the back-room with urgency. ‘Things are gettin‘ rowdy in the front an’-’ The man stopped, and suddenly stared in shock, realising who he had just let in. ‘Donald?! What the bloody hell are you doin’ here!?’
The door swung shut behind them with a solid thump, and “Donald” frowned.
‘Haven’t you heard the bells?’ the man retorted irritably, ‘and it’s Arthur now. Arthur and Claire Davidson.’
‘Right, right…Never thought I’d have to do this for you two. I mean, bloody hell! I thought you were invincible! - you two’ve never been caught yet!’ the bar-tender exclaimed, hurrying them along a dark and dingy corridor with practised speed.
‘Yes, and I’d like to keep it that way, thank you. Keep your voice down, Fred…’
Muttering, the bar-tender shook his head and threw open a small hatch near the middle of the hall.
‘Down there. You know the drill Don- Arthur,’ Fred corrected himself, quickly following after them as they clambered through the small opening. ‘Who got you anyway? I doubt you made enough mistakes to get you noticed, although you are three people down...’
In the dark, “Arthur” spat.
‘Hah! Some bloody guy called Josephine and an accountant lady called Cork. Got a whole file, they had, stuffed chocker full of evidence. Don’t know quite how the hell they did it - but they did it. No doubt we upset them at the Renwick Banquet Hall or something and they investigated us….we did target it a bit too often…’
‘That’s why they ganged up on us wasn’t it,’ “Claire” remarked beside him, still clinging to his arm as they scurried through the hidden passageway, ‘such meanies…’
“Arthur” glanced down at his wife worriedly, and saw their escort do the same. She acted like a child more and more each day, and more and more it would begin to show on the surface, in her behaviour. He could probably pay her in sweets soon…

‘Yes, darling, making you upset like that,’ he soothed, patting her hands to calm her down. ‘Silly people to follow such a little brat of a girl. Did you know the filthy child spat at me once? Horrid thing…’
‘Horrid,’ she repeated, giggling slightly.

Finally, they came upon another entrance, far bigger and wider than the last, it’s doors reaching high up above their heads with iron padlock and chains thick, ensuring whatever was on the other side was heavily secure. Despite it’s appearance, Fred managed to open the lock with a simple, plain looking key he procured from his murky apron pocket, and shoved the doors open with a grunt.
‘Get down onto the third dock - Old Joan said he’d left a tub out for emergencies,’ he told them. ‘An’ get that moustache shaved off, Don- Arthur. It’s a pretty distinguishing feature-’
‘-Yes, yes,’ the man snapped, ‘I don’t need your advice, I‘ve done this plenty of times before. Just split the lock and send us off Fred...’

Following quickly behind the bartender, the couple clung close to each other and made their way hurriedly across the slippery platform of the smuggling cove, the underground canal that ran through it eerily still and silent with no wind or current to disturb it.

The Grape Vine had smuggled both criminals and liquor for decades, tobacco and coin being another cargo to pass under its floorboards in secrecy. The make-shift waterway had remained hidden for more years than anyone dared to count, and somehow the Guards had never discovered - or never reported, with a few bribes here and there - the illegal goings-on. The more innocent were safe in the official knowledge that the canal had been shut down and drained seventy years ago after the shipping companies found more profit over-land and seas.
In the earlier days of the Fraudster Five, similar canal systems in other cities had been the means of a successful sneaky escape, and now Mr. “Davidson” was hoping greatly that that success would keep up its standing. They had lost Felicity and George when they tried to get away on foot through the sewers last time, and then they had suffered the loss of Carlos after the incident with the horse and coach. The only time when they had ever gotten away smoothly was in a boat and in the faith of a smugglers honour…or at least what little of it there was…

Suddenly, up above the three crooks, loud cries and thumps started somewhere within the walls of the bar, sending their gazes upwards across the cove’s ceiling.
‘Bloody Guards…always come to old Fred’s first sign of an escape, eh?’ the bartender growled fiercely.
Stepping hesitantly into the boat with her husband, Mrs. “Davidson” looked up at the broad chested man with worry.
‘W-what should we-‘ she started, but her other half cast her silencing glance and the bartender shook his head.
‘Don’t worry. They’ve never found us out yet,’ he said with certainty. ‘Just get away with yourselves and I’ll deal with the rest…’

Making no time to reply, the fraudster two watched the bar-tender turn away and hurry up the slope of the platform, turning away themselves once he’d disappeared through the cavern door to push the small rowing boat away from the canal’s edge and begin their float out of the city boundaries.
Above them, the sounds of the Guard invasion that had started up only a short while ago slowly died away, leaving the normal, humming buzz of the bar talk to pick itself back up again. They were gone.

“Arthur” grinned his trademark grin to this, and watched his wife do the same - her devious expression reminding him that there was still a strand of hope left there to re-claim her once brilliant mind, to stuff away her strangely childish, obsessive thoughts and bring back the woman he had married all those years ago…

‘Feels just like old times, eh? Getting away so smoothly,’ he murmured, picking up the oars and beginning to drive them through the canals waters, sending them off at a steady pace along the now beautifully silent waterway..
His wife smiled, and he watched her settle herself to face the bow of the boat comfortably, knowing that finally, all was safe and she could relax.
No-one could stop them now. Not here. Not now when they were already headed for sweet, freedom and promised safety…
‘A little less crowded without the others,’ she answered simply, ’but yes, this will be very much like old times. So very much…’



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Idiot
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Oh, wow. This is so excellent. I just read the last five or so episodes I missed back-to-back, and they are soooooo fantastic, it's unbelievable. I love the extra layers of creepiness added by "Tetra"'s madness. You've done so well to keep this going all this time, even when you often don't even get a comment in between updates.

Actually, you seem to have stopped doing it now, but there was something I noticed about halfway down the last page that bugged me a bit - you're quite fond of using aliases to break up the repetition of characters' names when you're talking about them, and you're starting to fall into the trap of using them too often where they're not necessarily needed. If you use them too much, it can create confusion as to who you're talking about, and it's also a bit misleading. Stuff like "the girl" or "the big man" is generally okay, but just remember that whenever you use an alias you're deliberately drawing attention to that attribute of your character, and if you're not necessarily intending to do that it can throw people off a bit. To be honest, it also makes you look a bit of a ponce, which you're not.

Sorry, I know it's not nice to go away for three months and then criticise you on my first visit back! :P It's not a major thing, just a little stylistic pedantry. Also, there was one tiny little grammar thing - it's only "Lansdale's" if it's belonging to them. if we're just talking about Lansdales plural, there's no apostrophe, just as if we were talking about first names or objects. The only exception to that rule is with "its" which doesn't use apostrophes to signify ownership (just like "his" or "hers").

Anyway, protracted grammar lesson over. Great stuff. :)
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Turnip05
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Ah! Thank you very much for the crit Idiot - I know I'm far from perfect (very far :P ) and it's good to know what I'm doing wrong - it's helped me quite a bit.
And don't worry - I'm still continuing - it's just I have a lot to do at home and school at the moment so I don't get much motivation or time to get this done :yfok:

Thanks to all who keep reading too! :D I can't believe how big this story's got - it just kept growing every time I got another idea *really needs to stop soon*

:bfoot:




‘…and by now Johnny’ll have told the press all about it,’ Stanley said cheerfully, as he turned up the front path of the Gladys’ lodging house followed by a laughing Penny.
‘So the Lansdale’s are scuppered basically?’ she said, grinning.
‘I guess so, if you want to put it that way.’
Laughing again, Penny skipped ahead of him, tapping her shoes on the stone unpredictably so she beat out a quirky rhythm, but stopping when she got to the front door. Instead, she rapped at the wood in the same way.
‘Penny, I’ve got my keys!’ Stanley called irritably, sighing as he followed behind.
She gave him a slight smirk. ‘Oops?’
He shook his head, but knew he wasn’t that bothered. Not in this mood anyway. Everything was going too well to get annoyed…

The door was answered in the couple of moments it took Stanley to get up the path, but as the scrawny figure of Francis appeared in the doorway, he found himself retracting his last thought.
‘Ah…you’re back.’ Francis murmured quietly, glancing into the hallway behind him and stepping back to let them in. ‘Johnny came whilst your were out - he has…news.’
‘Why? What happened?’ Penny asked, also noticing that something was wrong.
But the pale man merely shook his head and pointed a thumb to the kitchen. ‘Talk to them,’ he suggested, and slowly climbed the stairs. Presumably back to his room.
Penny and Stanley glanced at each other, shrugging off their coats worriedly onto the coat stand and making their way along to the kitchen.

The door was open, and Stanley caught sight of Maisy standing in view by the sink. She looked worried like Francis, but her cheeks were no longer pale and pasty. It seemed she was feeling better physically, but emotionally…
‘What’s wrong? What happened?’ he asked, quickly moving into the room with Penny trailing along after him, just as anxious.
‘They got away,‘ came a voice that wasn’t Maisy’s, and turning, Stanley saw there were others in the kitchen at the table, Johnny Josephine being the one that had spoken. Beside the beaten looking man sat Nina and Mrs. Gladys, both looking pretty down as well.
‘The Lansdales must’ve heard me talking to the manager or somethin’ I’m guessin’,’ he said, giving a bitter grimace, ‘we went to their office after informing the company and Guards about the pair, and found they’d gone. Scarpered. Disappeared completely out of the blue. No-one saw them leave, so we presume they took the window. The police are out searching for them now, but, well…’

There was a silence. Long, and sullen.
Slowly, Stanley swallowed the lump that had formed so suddenly in his throat and shook his head in disbelief.
‘But we’d just…we’d almost…’ he tried to find his tongue, but failed.
Instead, he just sat down heavily at the table opposite the others, and gave a low sigh.
‘It’s just unfair,’ he finally stated, ‘after all that.’
‘Life’s unfair,’ Mrs. Gladys stated simply back. ‘I was just as disappointed when I was told all this - ‘specially right after Maisy an’ Nina here had gone to the bother of explainin’ the whole thing to me. But the Lansdales ain’t out of the spot light yet, my pumpkin. Nearby city and town stations are bein’ informed of the Lansdale’s escape, and warnin’s are gettin’ put around the city. Or at least so Johnny was told.’
The big man nodded to this and gave a weak smile. ‘Hopefully they won’t escape like they have the other times. Nobody knows how they do it, but Tetra and Donald - or whatever their real names are - have always been able to escape from every major incident with the Fraudster Five.’
They nodded, and Penny suddenly moved in and spoke up.
‘The bells were ringin’ somewhere when we were outside before, Stanley. So perhaps they ain‘t out o‘ the city yet...’

The young man blinked. ‘The police bells were ringing?’ he asked, evidently surprised, turning around in his seat to face her.
‘Yeah, somewhere over in the Western sprawl,’ she informed him, ‘but I guess I only noticed it ‘cause I always used to listen out for them at night when I was out…on the…streets…’
She stopped carefully and quickly shook her head, realising that half of the people here didn’t realise she had actually been homeless, not wanting to cause more fuss or attract attention.
Stanley seemed to figure this out, and to her relief, covered-up for her quickly.
‘…playing games with the other kids? Cops and robbers, eh?’ he managed to say without blushing, surprisingly convincing considering his usual inability to lie.
‘Um, yeah. We always used pretend it were real,’ Penny said, acting as if she’d just stopped out of embarrassment and making her cheeks blush.

Luckily, the others didn’t seem to notice the cover-up, and the idea of children’s games had sparked off a memory in Mrs. Gladys, sending her off on a roll with Johnny discussing old play time habits, leaving the depressing topic of the Lansdales aside for the moment.
Quietly, Maisy came over to the table as everyone began joining in the conversation, and Stanley stood up to let her sit down. Partly because his old master Mr. Hopkin had taught him how to be a proper gentleman, but also because it meant he was able to slip away across to Penny, who had wandered over to the back door out of boredom. Greywacke had meandered in from the garden and he watched the scrawny cat rub against her trouser leg with a low purr.

He came and stood silently beside her, and wondered what he should say.
‘Why didn’t you want them to know?’ he asked quietly, not looking at her face. She shrugged, but then stopped, as if deciding she did want to talk after all.
‘They might know I’m not your niece anymore ‘cause of Magda an’ that article,’ she said, her voice low and unusually serious, ’but they don’t know where I really come from either. I wanna keep it that way. I’ve been pitied and judged enough by adults in the past - I don’t want that anymore now - especially at work if Maisy told someone.’

Glancing at the young girl, he saw an unsmiling face to match her serious tone. He himself was uncomfortable with the fact she had lived a tough early life, but just nodded understandingly, and settled to reply in silence.
The cat mewed and pestered for attention, and Penny lazily rubbed her foot against it’s fur as she gazed outside into the darkness.
‘It’s kind of nice pretendin’ that I’ve lived like this all me life,’ she started up again, ‘in a nice, warm house with clean clothes and food when I need it. It’s nicer for others too. An’ I don’t mind that. Makes things easier, I guess...’

Silence fell again, but it was abruptly disturbed when the four around the table suddenly burst into laughter.
‘Hey! Either of you remember that game with the whole line of kids, and you just charged at each other screamin’ and bawling?’ Johnny called over cheerfully.
Stanley had a feeling that Penny hadn’t had time to play children’s games when she was younger, and so spoke up first.
‘Red Rover?’ he suggested.
‘No no no. I swear it was Bulldog,’ Nina called to Johnny from across the table top.
‘Both s-sound like canines, so let’s leave it at that,’ Maisy giggled. ‘I c-can’t remember either.’
The chatter continued and Stanley found himself wanting to wander back over, but stopped himself to look back at Penny.
She was playing with the cat now, scratching his tummy as you did. But as she felt his gaze fall on her, she lifted her head up-
…and gave him an unexpected grin.

‘What’s for dinner?’ she asked brightly to his complete surprise, and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud with relief.
‘Forgot about that,’ he smiled, ‘I’ll see what I can scrounge off of Mrs. Gladys tonight…’
The young girl grinned again, and he felt the awkwardness that had settled between them lift.
He really was thankful for Penny’s chirpy side. It was always so unnatural to see her with grim eyes and such a worryingly…mindful outlook at times.

Hoping to push Penny’s worrying thoughts to the back of his mind, he turned towards the others around the table and wondered what he could find in the pantry for the dinner.
Not much apparently when he checked a few moments later - lots of vegetables - but no bread or meat.
He sighed.
Mrs. Gladys had taught him to make golden vegetable soup with herbs earlier on in the year, so he decided to give it a try - and suddenly found himself serving for everyone else too.
Mrs. Gladys, being her usual hospitable and considerate self, had decided to invite the two Cork sisters and Johnny to eat with them (since it was getting too late to turn back home) and the three found themselves unable to say no as the woman made herself busy and the pot began to boil.
Stanley just felt embarrassed, but it was still nice to have proper company for dinner for once.

Maisy wasn’t sure whether she should actually eat however - although she did feel a lot better at the moment - and when it came down to it she let her portion get split up between Johnny and Nina. Too much of a risk she told them, apologising to Stanley for making him cook some up for her when she’d not eaten anything.

‘I-I’m sorry! I don’t mean to be s-so difficult,’ she apologised humbly, blushing the same colour as her hair as her sister divided up her bowl across the table.
‘No - it’s okay! I’m sure we’d all rather you weren’t sick again,’ he chuckled, and after dragging another chair into the kitchen from the next room, sat down at the table to eat his own share of soup…


The evening went on smoothly - with no more awkward moments with Penny, and a far healthier looking Maisy happily joking around with the rest of them when she‘d stopped feeling guilty. Soon, the clock was chiming out the hour and their guests began to give their goodbyes and drift away back home - or in Nina’s case - back up the stairs.
Mrs. Gladys was very proud of organising a get together on the spot, and spent the rest of the night clearing away the dishes with her chin held up high, glad to have done such a good job.

Penny was looking cheerful too, although she kept rubbing her eyes and yawning.
‘To bed with you, I think,’ Stanley said when she gave another stretching yawn.
‘Mmmm-no,’ she grumbled, and pouted where she sat playing with Greywacke by the back door.
‘Come on!’ Stanley laughed, ‘you can’t hide how tired you look.’
He grabbed her arms and tried to drag her up, but she planted herself firmly on the ground and he ended up falling backwards onto the cold stone floor with a hard thump.
Penny laughed so loud that Mrs. Gladys nearly jumped in fright at the sink.
‘What on earth are you two doin’?’ she cried, helping an also now laughing Stanley pick himself up off the floor.

‘A bloody racket, that’s what!’ came a grumpy reply from the door.
All turned to see Mr. Gladys in his dark burgundy dressing gown, smelling of tobacco from his evening smoke in his office, and obviously still miffed about the incident with Penny and Francis earlier on in the day. ‘Quieten down!’
His wife frowned. ‘She’s just laughin’, Harry. Don’t be so grumpy!’
‘I’ll be grumpy when I want to be! This is my house!’ Mr. Gladys retorted somewhat childishly.
‘An’ these are payin’ guests! Or have you forgotten? Get away to bed and get some sleep - you’ve just had a bad day! Stop makin’ a fool of yourself!’
Mrs. Gladys shooed her husband out of the kitchen irritably, and both could be heard arguing with each other up the stairs.

With the rowing couple out of hearing, the silence in the kitchen seemed unnatural, and Stanley found himself very aware of all the sounds outside. The wind against the window. The dog barking from a couple of doors down. Slowly, as he drifted off more and more, he began to notice a strange, echoing tolling sound rolling out across the town.
Penny obviously heard it too, and frowned as she turned her head towards the door.

‘It’s the bells,‘ she murmured. ‘…they’ve started up again…’

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Woo
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Queen of all! bow before my might!
still utterly amazing, as is your commitment! thank you so much for writing this story! I love it so much!
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Turnip05
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Bleagh. I just haven't had the motivation to get this done in time - so sorry (again) for the 9 days wait. *is tired*

I'm not even sure if this is worth putting up, but I need to move on and keep going - I'm determined to finish this! :fpbls:





Tolling on and on…
The bells meant hope, but Stanley knew it was still possible that they weren’t ringing out for the Lansdale couple - but for another chase that night. He didn’t mention this to Penny though as she eventually (after many a persuasion) clambered into her little cupboard room under the stairs to bed, and let her sleepy, yet still cheery spirits rise at the thought of waking up to the news that the Lansdale’s were done and dusted from their working lives.

It was a nice thought, and Stanley tried to hold onto it as he himself clambered into his own bed later on, clinging to the hope that some Sunday journal would be spreading the news round town the next day, or perhaps the Blue Willow Courier would be hastily pushing out their weekly issue a day early so no-one could steal the happy news.

But alas, this wasn’t the case.

Scouring the Breuw Street corner shop’s windows before he went to do the gardening, Stanley could only see the usual articles on typically hyped up district burglaries and bar-room brawls - the more friendly newspapers listing up-coming wedding and reception dates.
A few old editions of the Blue Willow Courier were still pasted up behind a peeling issue of the Highway Mail, and seeing his name typed out beneath the rain soaked pages, he felt bad memories surface and the dark creature of guilt wiggle uncomfortably in his stomach.
Quickly shaking his head, and deciding not to contemplate such matters when he should be getting to work, he turned swiftly on his heel to face back out onto the street, and with his eyes still lingering on the torn article as he stepped out -

…he completely crashed into another passer-by.

Grocery bags went flying out of hands, and clumsy feet sent him backwards to join them - landing him with a heavy thump on the pavement, whilst the other fell down to pick up their bags gruffly.
‘Oof! Watch where you’re goin’, eh?’ snapped the bad-tempered and strangely familiar voice beside him.
Apologizing roughly to the victim of his blindness, Stanley stumbled painfully back to his feet and stared in shock to see that it was his own dear sister that was bent double gathering up her bags.

‘M-Magda!’ he cried, backing off slightly and suddenly wondering whether an attempt to help her was a good one when she sported such an angry look.
‘Stan?!’ The red-faced woman’s head shot up like a dart, and staring in disbelief at the sudden appearance of her brother, nearly dropped her groceries again.
‘What the hell are you doin’ here?!’ she cried, getting up off of the ground.
Stanley blinked and wondered the exact same thing himself for one confused moment, until his brain finally came back to focus and the damage from the collision sorted itself out.
‘I’m just…just checking the news - I mean - I’m going to work, but I stopped, and I was just turning when -’ Quickly realising he was blabbering, he gave an awkward yelp. ‘I-I mean, I didn’t mean to run into you like that. Really, I’m sorry - I should have looked.’
Magda however, was still scowling at him, face flushed.
‘Magda?’ he tried to question, but she cut him off with a grunt and turned away, bags gathered up clumsily in her arms so the contents wouldn’t spill.
‘Magda! Look, should I help?’ he called, following after her guiltily. Surely he hadn’t upset her that much?
‘No!’ she cried, still striding ahead up Breuw Street, not daring to look round and face him as she spoke, ‘I’m sick of seein’ you! I don’t want this to turn into another crazy conversation like before! You know that from yesterday, so bugger off!’
Magda quickened her pace as she said this and Stanley found himself jogging to keep up.
‘Wait!’ he called, reaching out a hand, ’It’s not as if things are going to be weird between us forever, Magda - you can’t just start running away from me every time we meet! This is barely the fourth time I‘ve talked to you since…since everything!’

Suddenly, she came to a stop in her path, and Stanley had to brake rapidly so as not to crash into her again. Slowly she turned her head to face him.
‘Well if you want to talk, heed me bloody words then, Stan,’ she uttered in low tones. ‘Leave me alone! I told you that yesterday - just…let me go today, okay? I don’t want to see you yet...not now.’
She seemed to deflate where she stood and gave a sniff.

‘Sorry for bein’ rude.’ she muttered, and was off again up the road, leaving Stanley to stand by himself whilst she escaped, back sore from the fall, and head throbbing with both pain and nausea.

He moaned.

I never can deal with her right, can I?…



The morning and afternoon went by quickly to Stanley’s mild surprise, and soon he found himself travelling back home after his arduous gardening round with a bunch of complicated shopping chores Mrs. Gladys had asked him to sort out.

He was still feeling down from Magda that morning, and as he passed the corner shop where they’d bumped into each other so suddenly, he sighed to think that they’d never manage to have a conversation that wasn’t about the past, that wasn’t about how awkward things still were between them after all these years.
He thought things were sorted when Magda had come round to the lodging house a week back and they’d agreed to look after each other - but after the latest two encounters it was pretty clear things were just as messed up as before…

Standing outside the corner shop with such thoughts weighing him down, he didn’t think to notice how in the way he was of passers-by - and for the second time that day he suddenly found himself thrown down onto the pavement by an unseen stranger, another racing customer from the shop tripping up over his legs to make an awkward pile of three in the road.

It probably would have been comical in Stanley’s mind had he not just cracked his back again.
‘Ow…’ he moaned, and struggled to his feet, meeting the eyes of another fellow victim on the way up.

‘Francis!’ he cried and fell back down again.
‘Stanley?’ the pale man enquired, getting up cautiously and blinking in surprise. There was a hiss from behind them, and both turned to see - and Stanley was surprised considering his luck that day - a perfect stranger dragging themselves to their feet in pain, hands rubbing stiffly against what would probably become a bruised thigh in the morning.
Quickly, Stanley jumped to his feet to help the small lady up, and Francis got back on his knees to save the bundle of parcels that had spilled from her hands when she’d tripped.
‘I’m so sorry, miss!’ Stanley hurriedly apologized as she let him help her back up, but the woman just shook her head and gave a short laugh.
‘No, no! I rushed out that door like a crazy woman,’ she said, giving another chuckle, slightly out of breath, ‘although I must admit that hurt quite a bit. I should’ve seen the other young gentleman run into you before me - might’ve been able to save me’self then, eh?’
Francis stepped up and held out her parcels. ‘Your bags,’ he said quietly.
‘Ah! Thank you,’ she beamed, smiling gratefully. ‘But I do hope you’re alright too.’
‘Of course,’ Francis smiled, and Stanley nodded behind him, although who knew how many aches and pains he’d have in the morning.
‘Ah, that's good.’
'Are you going to be okay yourself?' Stanley asked, feeling guilty as she rubbed her leg again.
The lady laughed, 'Don't worry lad, don't worry. I'm stronger than I look!' And with a polite nod, she went stiffly on her way again, receiving concern from people who’d seen the fall as she passed by the shop. She only shook her head to them though, and said she was fine, still smiling cheerfully.

‘Wish my sister had been like that,’ Stanley murmured as the two watched her go.
‘Hmm?’
‘Oh, um…it’s just I ran into Magda this morning - exactly the same place, exactly the same way - wasn’t looking.’ He gave a pained laugh. ‘I tried to say sorry and chat, but she wouldn’t have any of it. I guess we‘re still messed up...’
Francis gave him a curious look, but only said, ‘two collisions in one day is quite unlucky...’

After confirming they were both heading back to the lodging house, they accompanied each other through the town.
‘So why were you out?’ Stanley asked after a few minutes of Francis’ unnerving silence.
‘I went to see Johnny at the press to find out what is going on,’ he replied simply.
‘Oh. And?’
The pale man shook his head. ‘Nothing. The case is being kept under cover for the moment as the police don’t want to make it public yet - that is the Courier’s job tomorrow.’
‘So they haven’t caught them…’
‘No, I’m afraid.’
Stanley sighed. The day just got more and more dreary…



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Turnip05
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Woo! My maths exams and coursework are done and dusted! *happy happy*
Now I've just got 2 science modulars and a whole load of mock exams to practise for :gasp:

Thanks for reading people! I loves you all :wub:




The clock rang out the sixth hour, and Penny quickly lit the last lamp of the main corridor, the fact it was Sunday meaning the Grand Hall didn’t need doing and she could go home early.
It had been an experience, she thought reflectively as she checked the row again for any dub candles that hadn‘t lit properly- to do the whole job on her own for a couple of weeks. It was odd to think she would be doing the rounds again with Stanley tomorrow, but it would definably be for the best. She’d been rushed off her feet most nights just trying to get things done in time, and she’d be very grateful for the change in pace when Stanley took on half the load.

Smiling as she confirmed the corridor was successfully lit, she scurried back to the trolley of candles and spare lamp glasses, the lantern for lighting the splint waiting patiently to be blown out before she took everything back to the store room.

Who’d have thought she’d ever get a job like this? Who’d have thought the little match stick girl from the streets would ever do honest work and live an honest life?
She laughed out loud to think what her old “sister” Ginny would have said, and received an odd look from a passing steward on their way to the entrance hall for duty.
Oops, she thought and bit her lip to keep herself quiet as she continued along the corridor to the store cupboard.

Finally reaching her destination, Penny unloaded the trolley and set about getting her things together, grabbing her coat and cap from the hooks over the door to pull a face at how cold they were. She hadn’t been able to leave them in the kitchen to warm up today as Gloria didn’t work Sundays, and she couldn’t be bothered to face Vince and Gordon on her own.
Checking she had all her stuff and nothing had fallen out of her pockets, she scuttled out the storeroom busily and made her way to the front entrance to wait for Stanley - or Francis as it happened to be some days.

Plush carpet, shining stair rails, golden bouquets of candle lamps lighting up the wallpapered walls - she passed by it all so quickly, so uncaringly. It was strange to remember when she’d only dared take peeks of this place during the day, and perhaps sneak in to find a hidden corner to sleep in at night. Now it was so normal, now it was so easy to forget what a longing she had had to walk on this floor without fear of claims to ‘thief’ and ‘vagrant‘.
Stanley got uncomfortable whenever she talked of her past she knew, and yet he must have known her background when he took her in, known she might be trouble. But she hadn’t been. Or at least, she hoped she hadn’t…

She really needed to thank him properly one of these days. Who knew what she’d be doing now if he hadn’t picked her up, if Mrs. Gladys hadn’t agreed, if she hadn‘t wandered into the Halls that evening… Really, both he and Mrs. Gladys needed thanking…but how? Perhaps once the Lansdales were away, and everything had settled down again, maybe then she could see…

‘Penny!’
Suddenly, the young girl was thrown out of her thoughts, and she turned quickly to see Stanley walking up the pavement to meet her.
‘Hi!’ she waved, and scurried out from beneath the shelter of the Renwick Banquet Halls entrance so he needn’t walk all the way up. ‘Any news?’
‘Of the Lansdales?’ he replied.
‘Well, that too - but just in general.’ She suddenly laughed. ‘Any crowds gathered at the house this time? Running to and fro? Being sick in the sink?’
‘Hey - Maisy couldn’t help it!’ Stanley claimed, playfully whacking around Penny’s ears and making her squeal.
‘Hey!’ She battered his hands away and stuck out her tongue cheekily.
Stanley laughed and started walking away, and Penny followed along behind, holding her cap to her head as the wind rose a bit.

‘Anyway - you didn’t answer me question,’ she pouted after a little while, hitting him on the arm in annoyance.
‘Ow! Well there’s nothing much to say. Francis went to see Johnny, but said that the police are keeping the case under cover so nobody knows much. The Blue Willow Courier will be doing a report tomorrow though, so we will get something - if it’s not what we know already…’
‘Oh…Okay,’ Penny sighed, and trotted out in front dolefully.

The conversation moved on as they walked back home through the streets of the city - to Magda - to work - to that weird bakery down on Hockley Street that sold fish cakes every Tuesday. But eventually, as they passed by the corner of Breuw Street with its journalistic reminders of paper and ink plastered against the glass by means of rain and glue, the Lansdales came slowly crawling back to mind…

‘Say…how d’you think they got away?’ Penny asked, watching as Stanley’s eyes glanced over the windows for a new article whilst they walked by.
‘Who knows? Otherwise they’d be caught yet,’ he murmured, ‘I presume, like most criminals they’ve got an escape plan for when things go wrong - a person they can run to, or a secret road to take. Who knows?’ Stanley shrugged.
‘Who knows,’ Penny repeated, ‘I guess.‘ And turning away from the corner shop’s gloomy visage, wondered where on earth the criminal couple were now…



‘Dahl! Please Da- I mean Arthur, wake up!’ “Claire” hissed desperately into her husband’s ear, and shaking the sleeping man’s shoulder vigorously, glanced back across at the tunnel entrance in fear.
‘Mmm….getoff,’ came his half-awakened reply, but “Claire” only kept shaking more frantically.

Having followed the underground canals all the way out to the sewers, the two criminal getaways had managed to co-ordinate themselves outside of the city’s seemingly everlasting waterway system, and now found themselves at the thankfully remote banks of some river.
Not being able to see any settlements around - never mind the city walls - after searching higher ground, they had celebrated their victorious escape with some much needed sleep. Travelling all night, it hadn’t taken long to drop off - even with the chilly morning air getting in under the blanket of thick coat - and suddenly now, waking up to the ever-fading light of dusk, “Claire” found herself panicking over the voices she could hear from the nearby sewer entrance they’d escaped from only hours before.

‘Please!’ she pleaded, giving a last shake, ‘There’s something, someone there!’
With a loud snort, “Arthur” opened his eyes and roughly lifted himself off the ground to see his wife better. ‘What?’ he barked, ignoring her hasty signals to keep his voice down, ‘You’re simply hearing things, darling. Just-’
‘…how far could they have gotten?’

Low voices from the metal gate of the sewer echoed quietly around the slow curve of the river embankment, and staring at his wife in horror “Arthur” drew in a panicky gasp. “Claire” nodded, and together they turned towards the gateway.

A shining lantern could be seen glowing faintly in the dark winter evening, casting shadows against three, dark, most likely dangerous figures standing by the sewer entrance. Considering the way the light would gleam off of their apparently metal chests, “Arthur” could only presume they were well and properly armoured.

The Guards.

Damnit, Damnit, Damnit! Who found us out?! Who knew our path?! “Arthur” cursed in his head, and tried to gather up their things as quickly, and as quietly as he could. But in the stillness of the evening even the ruffle of clothes sounded too loud, each breath treacherous to their increasingly exposed hiding spot.
The lantern swung in their direction, but the light didn’t penetrate far enough to catch them.
Silently, seeing his wife had gathered their bags and he their coats, “Arthur” quickly indicated up the riverside where a short path lead up over the slight hill. Trying to make a getaway was stupidly risky, but staying put was stupider still.

‘Now darling,’ he whispered hurriedly, taking his wife by the shoulders, ‘Running is all we can do, but if they catch you-’
‘…here? Can you see something back there…?’
‘-I know, I know. I‘ve got it in my pocket,’ “Claire” answered quickly, quavering as the sound of footsteps got louder.
‘Right, right. Now on the count of 1...’
‘…they said the buggers came out the sewers, so…’
‘…2...’
‘…wait a minute, Harold. What the hell’s-?!’
‘- 3!’

A painstaking push off the ground, blood rushing with the pull of gravity, and with hearts in their mouths, the two were off.
Cries and curses followed their sudden escape, their running figures swallowed in the lantern’s light as they rushed in and out of sight, enough time for them to be exposed, but not enough time to be caught…
‘God damn it, get ‘em!’ cried out one of the Guards, and soon “Arthur” could make out the heavy thudding of boots as the three policemen started chase, head buzzing as he forced himself to run harder.
One yard, two yard, lungs burning with the effort, they were soon making progress across the barren, riverside landscape, feet pedalling onwards with panicked determination.
We can’t lose, we can’t lose… cried “Arthur” in his mind, but behind them, the Guards were quickly making progress too…

There was a shriek, and turning momentarily, he caught sight of “Claire” tripping over a rugged cleft in the earth, dragged to the ground by her skirts, and hands reaching out as if some invisible force could save her.
He felt a flash of distress as he saw his wife hit the ground and the closest Guard pin her down with a cry of, ‘Gotch’ya!’ But it fleeted in an instant as saw her hand fly to her pocket and then stab back out again with venom, thrusting into the man’s uncovered ribcage where the breastplate did not cover. The Guard fell down with a horrible cry, and wide eyed with terror, “Claire” picked up the pace again, hands shaking with what she had done.

In no time at all they were running beside each other again, but “Claire’s” fall had meant the other two Guards were quickly catching up…
Glancing down at his wife’s hands, “Arthur” could see something dark and fluid running down her palms - but whether it was ink or blood he couldn’t tell…

Heavy breaths, painful gasps as their bodies struggled to drink in the air and keep them going. He didn’t know how long it lasted - or whether it lasted at all - but soon fatigue and lack-of-sleep began to show in their desperate strides, and as he tried so hard to keep going, to keep up speed and not slow down, the world turned upside down and his face met the floor. He struggled and kicked out as something landed on him heavily, pinning him deftly to the dirty earth, his mind raging at whatever soul had betrayed their escape route and sent these brigands after them.

‘Mr. And Mrs. Lansdale?’ questioned the breathless Guard who‘d pushed him down, ‘or should we say Rosa and Dahl Harrison…Going by any name, you’re under arrest for six years worth of both fraud attempted and done against your country and fellow countrymen - assisted and not. I’d keep still whilst I buckle those hands if I were you, sonny, or the payback for assaulting old Harold back there’ll come sooner than you thought…’
‘How did you-?’ Dahl gasped, as hands held him down and he felt something cold and sharp press against his neck, repressing any urges he had to struggle, ‘-who told?!’

‘I think you can ask your old fraudster friend Florence that when we take you back, Mr. Harrison,’ came another of the Guards’ voices from behind him, heavy and laboured as if still recovering from injury, ‘but meanwhile, you better keep that filthy mouth shut, unless you want the law to turn nasty…that bloody pen hurt…’


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Woo
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Queen of all! bow before my might!
I'm sure you'll do fantasticly in your mocks and your real exams. ^_^ I just had an english exam, I got home and sat down to read. :D as ever, gripping and exciting. I love the 'That bloody pen hurt' bit. :lol:
lots of hugs! :P
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Idiot
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Brackenwood Lightweight
Yeah, good luck with the exams. :) I'm just finishing my AS levels, which is slightly nerve-wracking. I always seem to leave slightly too little time to revise... If you need to pause the updates for a while to prepare for your exams, I'm sure no-one would mind, real life has to come first. Can't wait to see what happens though :D
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Turnip05
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Majestic Turnip
*glee*
Thank you you two :D
I love getting your comments - and good luck with all your exams too! (and anyone else who's lurking around :P )

On with the story!






‘I’m sorry. He’s really not feelin’ well, ma’am. He should be able to make the Thursday round in a couple of days though, am sure.’
Penny bowed her head in what she hoped was a respectful manner (should it be lower? Higher? Or had she got it right?) and lifted her eyes to watch the very well-dressed, and most certainly pompous Lady before her’s reaction.
‘Hmm.’ the old woman grumbled, her high neck rimmed with frill and lace quivering slightly as she spoke, ‘I suppose it’ll have to do. He isn’t getting paid he realises, yes?’
‘Yes, ma’am. He understands. No work, no pay.’
There was another grumble, and the young girl glanced up again to see that someone else had come to the door. A maid dressed in black and white - little frilled pinny looking more stylish than practical - stood by her mistresses side and nodded when the older Lady whispered something near her ear. Then, as quickly as she’d come, the maid scuttled away out of sight.

‘Very well,’ the Lady concluded, turning back to Penny who’s neck was beginning to ache with all the bowing, ‘we can have someone else cover for Mr. Morris today, but we will be expecting him to keep his appointment on Thursday. Inform him the Bradbury household wishes him well soon, and we got his message.’
‘Thank you ma’am. Have a good day ma’am,’ Penny quickly answered, and straightening her back, watched the door close quietly in front of her before scuttling off down the path so she could get away from the place as fast as she could.

Stanley, to his immediate distress since he was supposed to be starting work back at the Halls today, had woken up that morning by throwing up on his bedroom floor. Not pleasant to experience, and certainly not pleasant to clean up afterwards.
It was reasoned, Stanley having spent half the day with Maisy yesterday, that he’d most likely caught the poor woman’s stomach bug.

‘And my gardening too!’ he had cried as Mrs. Gladys had forced him back into his bed that morning, ’They’ll be expecting me! Maisy mentioned that sometimes she felt absolutely fine if she hadn’t eaten much yesterday, so-’
‘-Mr. Morris, you’ll keep to your bed and stop worryin’!’ Mrs. Gladys argued, pushing him down onto the mattress, ‘we’ve gone through this before and you know the drill! I always win!’
Stanley slumped moodily and pulled a face.
‘Penny can go tell Lady Bradbury and Mrs. Josephine you’re ill, and tonight we’ll see if you can go and at least watch Penny - because yes - it probably would be best for you to attend and keep the Manager happy,’ Mrs. Gladys compromised, sitting a mug of hot tea on the young man’s bedside table.
‘Thank you,’ Stanley murmured.
‘But it ain’t certain!’ Mrs. Gladys reminded him, pointing a finger, ‘Only if you stick in your bed, an’ keep that stomach down this afternoon. Okay?’
‘Okay...‘

After that, Penny had been sent to run to the two houses Stanley should have been gardening at that morning to tell his employers he wouldn’t be working. Mrs. Josephine had been very friendly - even offering to pay Stanley for the day since it wasn’t his fault he’d taken ill - but the old Lady Bradbury had taken a while to deal with.

First came the doorman, nose upturned at her trouser-wearing, freckled face, and windswept hair, his words long and droning as if purposefully meaning to waste her time. Eventually, he went away and sent another servant in his place, who too stuck her nose up at Penny and proceeded to question her at length about where Stanley was, how severe was his illness really, and doesn’t he realise how much this will disrupt things on a busy weekday like Monday?
Penny answered all inquiries as politely as she possibly could though, bowing every time she caught the woman sniffing in disapproval at her appearance, and eventually the servant turned away to fetch her mistress.
Even then, another servant trotted up again before Penny got a chance to tell the old Lady of her gardener’s sickness, and she found herself nodding and bobbing like a yo-yo as she was told to address Lady Bradbury as ‘ma’am’, to keep her head low at all times, and not to make too much eye contact because that was highly rude for a commoner like herself…
In the end, Penny wondered how on earth this Lady got to talk to anyone if her servants always did this first.

Now, thankfully, she could get away from all this ‘high society’ and she skipped down the gravel lane that lead down to the house entrance.

To her left and right, large, tidily trimmed bushes lined the high garden wall, flower beds neatly arranged in soft-coloured, geometric patterns at their bases. Tall trees lent over a small pathway that lead to the back of the grand house, the paving stones smooth and inviting - miraculously clean of moss. Even though it was winter now, the flowers that were blooming in smart little mounds across the lawn were bright shades of pink and scarlet, a line of bushes scattered with pink buds leading off to the back where an orchard could be seen dropping its leaves. Along the gravel pathway, snowdrops hung their heads, and Penny wondered if they felt inclined to bow lower when their mistress went by, scolded by her servants before she came by to make sure they were properly respectful and polite…

Giggling at the thought, she wondered if all the garden was Stanley’s doing, and hoped they were paying him well.
It was beautiful.
She could see him in her mind, bending down to check flower buds for frost and disease, taking as much care for the plants as he would when lighting the lamps at the Halls - careful not to brake the thin, delicate flower stems as he would with the diamond glass shades on the corridor lamps, holding his breath as he climbed rickety step-ladders to clip the high-raised hedges into smooth rounded tops, just as he would with lighting the high-hung chandeliers in the Grand Central Hall.

Taking a last look as she reached the curly iron gates, Penny smiled happily.

Then, just as suddenly, the smile disappeared.

-clang-clank-clang-clank-

The noise of a Guard hand bell began to grow louder and louder in Penny’s ears, and she quickly pushed open the Bradbury house gates to see what was coming up the road.

The hand bells only ever rang when someone had been caught, and although it kept everyone around alert in case the soon-to-be-prisoners escaped like they were meant to, it also attracted nearby passers-by to jeer or scorn. Sometimes children might follow after them and throw stones, but that had been stopped recently since it was often the policemen who got hit by bad aims, not the criminals.

Three tired looking Guards were trudging down the road after what was probably an outside night watch, an extinguished lantern slung over one’s shoulder, and the other two pulling along a pair of ragged individuals by a metal chain and buckle that jangled with the hand bell as they walked.
Because of the way the three Guards were turned, she couldn’t see the two criminals, and frustrated with this, Penny dashed up along the road to get a better view.

Already, a procession of townsfolk were following the tattered group, but they were silent. Even the children who would keep running up to the convicts to prove ‘they weren’t chicken’ were quiet when they giggled and ran back to their friends, giddy with the dare.

Penny stopped at the corner of the street to wait for the procession to go by her and watched as another child detached itself from the crowd and scurried up to one of the criminals. Just as they got near though, the man snarled, lurching towards them angrily, sending the child squealing away and causing the Guard holding his chain to jerk him off of his feet and teach him a lesson.

Penny’s heart stopped - she’d caught a glimpse of the man’s face before he had been pulled back in - and suddenly desperate to confirm her hopes, hurried up the path to get closer.

The Lansdales? she gasped, and indeed, although dishevelled and filthy as if they’d been wrestling in dirt, both convicts were without a doubt, Donald and Tetra Lansdale, dragged on their heels, bound by shackles and chain, thoroughly and totally headed for court at the hands of the City’s very own Guards.

For a moment, she could only stare in disbelief - We caught them we caught them we caught them! - and then laughed out loud on the roadside, her voice sharp in the silence.
This caught Tetra’s attention, and turning her head to face Penny, her eyes widened into a wild look and her mouth moved as if speaking silent words. What ever it was she had supposedly said, dragged her husband to turn his head too, and both now having stopped in the road to stare at Penny, the young girl couldn’t help but feel suddenly very self-conscious.

‘You-’ hissed the dark haired man with venom, not even budging as one of the Guards turned and tugged at his chains again, ‘you and your bloody Banquet Hall!
The man thrashed as he cried out the last three words, causing the chain to pull him violently backwards, and having jumped at the man’s reaction, Penny felt herself twitch as he dragged himself back up again instantly.
Now the whole crowd was staring at her, including the Guards, but quickly their attention was diverted when one of the policemen struck Donald over the head.

‘Keep your mouth shut, sonny,’ cried the Guard, ‘I’ve enough of you acting up at children.’
‘Just keep goin’ Mr. Harrison,’ said another, and the criminal couple were jostled back into line again, dragged up the street at a quicker speed than before so no more comments could be made.

Mr. Harrison? Penny thought in puzzlement, but then it clicked.
Ah, but of course! They would have used different names to their real ones so there were no suspicions when they took on a job at the Courier…So they’re called Harrison really…

Ignoring the stares of the children and adults that she found fixed on her as they walked by to follow the Guards again, Penny laughed out loud once more, letting it ring out up the road.
Who’d have thought? Who’d have thought! We really got’em this time!

Then turning back down the street away from the staring procession, Penny skipped happily up the pathway, ecstatic with the idea that everything had really worked, and giddy with the thought of telling Stanley back home…

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