Fake The room below the solarium had been a bathroom once. It was tiled with a deep green stone quarried locally, floor to ceiling, and heated underfoot by a hypocaust system that ran throughout the house. Hooks where towels had once hung lined the wall closest to the door, and there was a long, wickerwork bench beneath them where clothes, neatly folded, could have been set to rest. Further into the room steps led down into a sunken bath that could have accommodated a rugby team, and beyond that were three showerheads mounted in the wall for rinsing off. Now the bath was empty and the showerheads were rusty and there was a smell of mildew that permeated the whole room. Lady Helena sat down on the wickerwork bench, which creaked alarmingly. Valeriy looked around, rubbing a finger under his nose. "It stinks in here," he said. "Like washing left undried." "Yes," said Lady Helena. "It does." "Aren't you going to do anything about it?" "Like what? Do you have any clue how expensive this house is? I have no idea how these people can afford to own these places; all they do is eat up money. It's always cold unless you run fires all day, and the cost of coal makes that impossible. I tried getting wood from the estate, and there's plenty of that, but it's so heavy! And paying for a groundsman to do it is almost as bad as the bloody coal. All the rooms need decorating and refurnishing, and damn well insulating!" She was red-faced and breathing heavily by the time she finished. Valeriy eyed her with curiosity. "Isn't that why we've got the seance machine?" he said. "To get the money to be able to live here?" "The seance machine is just to get money," said Lady Helena. "I wasn't planning on spending all of it on this... this pile! And, talking about that, just what was that up there just now?" "What do you mean?" "It's supposed to be a fake, Val. Where did that voice and that message about typhoid come from?" Valeriy shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "But it doesn't surprise me that that idiot's Gloria has typhoid. She could probably be three weeks dead and he wouldn't notice. Or claim that death was something invented by scientists." "Typhus," said Lady Helena. "The disease is typhus, it only become typhoid as an adjective. Who was in the machine tonight?" "Jim." "And how does he know about Gloria and typhus?" There was a silence while Valeriy thought about this. Twice he appeared to be about to speak, and twice he stopped before he started. "I don't know," he said finally. "Right," said Lady Helena. "So what the hell is going on here?"
2 comments:
Kiev has brought me snow :) I am happy.
Fake
The room below the solarium had been a bathroom once. It was tiled with a deep green stone quarried locally, floor to ceiling, and heated underfoot by a hypocaust system that ran throughout the house. Hooks where towels had once hung lined the wall closest to the door, and there was a long, wickerwork bench beneath them where clothes, neatly folded, could have been set to rest. Further into the room steps led down into a sunken bath that could have accommodated a rugby team, and beyond that were three showerheads mounted in the wall for rinsing off. Now the bath was empty and the showerheads were rusty and there was a smell of mildew that permeated the whole room.
Lady Helena sat down on the wickerwork bench, which creaked alarmingly. Valeriy looked around, rubbing a finger under his nose.
"It stinks in here," he said. "Like washing left undried."
"Yes," said Lady Helena. "It does."
"Aren't you going to do anything about it?"
"Like what? Do you have any clue how expensive this house is? I have no idea how these people can afford to own these places; all they do is eat up money. It's always cold unless you run fires all day, and the cost of coal makes that impossible. I tried getting wood from the estate, and there's plenty of that, but it's so heavy! And paying for a groundsman to do it is almost as bad as the bloody coal. All the rooms need decorating and refurnishing, and damn well insulating!" She was red-faced and breathing heavily by the time she finished. Valeriy eyed her with curiosity.
"Isn't that why we've got the seance machine?" he said. "To get the money to be able to live here?"
"The seance machine is just to get money," said Lady Helena. "I wasn't planning on spending all of it on this... this pile! And, talking about that, just what was that up there just now?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's supposed to be a fake, Val. Where did that voice and that message about typhoid come from?"
Valeriy shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "But it doesn't surprise me that that idiot's Gloria has typhoid. She could probably be three weeks dead and he wouldn't notice. Or claim that death was something invented by scientists."
"Typhus," said Lady Helena. "The disease is typhus, it only become typhoid as an adjective. Who was in the machine tonight?"
"Jim."
"And how does he know about Gloria and typhus?"
There was a silence while Valeriy thought about this. Twice he appeared to be about to speak, and twice he stopped before he started.
"I don't know," he said finally.
"Right," said Lady Helena. "So what the hell is going on here?"
Greg - nice :) We have snow here as well.
Ooh, a very fascinating continuation of this tale. Great descriptive intro as well, by the way. You have an enviable talent for setting a scene.
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