Crikey, Mellors, It’s The Filth!
Up on the third floor of the stately MIP Towers, Mellors checked his attire in the Long Gallery mirror, then deftly sidestepped as the Tweenie skateboarded past—completing a perfect Suzie-Q without dislodging her Ladyship’s toasted kipper-and-marmalade breakfast sandwich.
Now, if only she’d stop doing a 5-0 grind down the main stairway bannister… he thought.
As he reached the ground floor, from the kitchen at the back of the ancestral home came the sound of a 12-bore shotgun discharging—which meant that Cook was starting to prepare her famous Fish in a Barrel Pie. Famous, sadly, for all the wrong reasons, as the local constabulary would readily testify. Especially on a Saturday evening after closing time….
The aged valet de chambre shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for dallying around, there were things to be done before the 18 guests arrived for the evening’s dinner soiree.
Mrs Handshandy, the MIP Towers housekeeper, had shown him a list of names during their breakfast earlier that morning.
“And believe you-me, Mr Mellors, they sound a very unsavoury collection, and no mistake!”
He had dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “How so, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“For one thing, they openly claim to be…” she paused to take in a long breath, before exhaling the word: “Writers!”
“Hmmm. In that case I think it would be prudent to lock the silver away—including all the teaspoons.”
“My thoughts exactly! And I’ve already instructed the Parlour maids to put mouse traps in the silver drawers and to throw covers over the display cabinets!”
The butler had taken another look at the list.
Richard Zaric, Daniel Marshall Wood, S. B. Watson, Ron Bruguiere, Aimee Kluck, Alexander Frew, Roly Andrews, Marian McMahon Stanley, Gerald Elias, Gregory Meece, Neil K. Henderson, AP Warren, Michele Bazan Reed, Bonnar Spring, Carol Goodman Kaufman, Kathleen Marple Kalb, John M. Floyd, & Dave Dempster
He pursed his lips for a moment. “I think it would also be best practice to lock away the good brandy. Also the good whiskey, the good gin, the good rum, the cooking sherry…” Another glance at the list, “And I’ll tell Chisholm, the head gardener, to make sure that the methylated spirits bottles are out of sight as well…”
His reverie at the foot of the main staircase was abruptly broken by one of the Scullery maids appearing at the doorway to the Morning Room, with a very worried expression on her face.
“Begging your pardon, Mr Mellors, but several of the guests have arrived early. Cook says, if they don’t stop hanging around her back door, then it’ll be both barrels, and pork pie salad for most of next week’s lunches.”
Although not a religious man, Mellors crossed himself, muttering “Spectacles, testicles, ’baccy and pipe! Do none of these buggers understand proper etiquette?” Turning to the young maid, he said, “Tell Cook to direct them to the main entrance. And remind her that such directions do not require the use of any expletives, colloquial or otherwise, no matter how descriptive she feels the use of such might be. I shall receive them in the main foyer.”
The maid said, “Very good, sir,” then hurried back to the kitchen.
Unconsciously adjusting his already impeccable attire one more time, Mellors strode purposefully into the foyer, and opened the large Main Entrance door, so as to be ready to greet the guests in a more-than-they-deserved civilized manner. Looking up at the doorway lintel, he silently read the MIP Towers family motto carved into the stone:
Numquam scis quid tibi placeat donec id legeris.
The butler nodded his head. Indeed, you certainly don’t, he thought…
Paperback Edition ISBN: 9781909498709
eBook Edition ISBN: 9781909498716
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