RSW is predictably enough, in loose robes in the study at Winter Towers, on his second mug of Nuke Coffee, trotting though his usual crappy inbox of indifference, rejection and junk. Hearing the gravel crunch outside, he is stirred to notice Lady Cicely Arbuthnot’s British Racing Green E Type Jaguar pulling up outside his Doric columned portico. Immaculately dressed, Lady Cicely nimbly negotiates the front steps and past Steven Seagal who opens the front door silently, allowing her access. The Major notes with mild irritation, that his inexplicable martial arts butler lets people in willy nilly. RSW: (Coffee mug in hand) “Cicely! Good morning!” Cicely: “Hi, Rich. Don’t you ever get dressed!?” RSW: (With a wink) “Yes. WE, call it costume!” Cicely: (Placing a leather holdall at his feet with a clunk) “I see. Here.” RSW: “What is this?” Cicely: (Matter of factly) “What my daughter has stolen from you this month.” RSW: “Ah, right. Won’t you come through?” (He motions to the drawing room) Retiring to the drawing room, Cicely sits on the sofa opposite the Major, crossing her legs. RSW sits on the arm of the sofa opposite and delves into the bag. The first item he produces is a garlic press. He raises his eyebrows. Next out is a brass candle stick, then another. He then produces a number of house music CDs and a marble ash tray. RSW: “I was wondering where the garlic press had gone, but she can keep the CDs.” Cicely: “She doesn’t actually want any of this. She just likes the thrill of breaking in, and – the attention, I suppose. And I appreciate the fact that you don’t ever press charges...” RSW: “Well, we all have our little quirks, Cicely. I’m hardly one to talk. Though, really – she ought to take care with the whole shinning up the drainpipe thing.” Cicely: “Well, I just like to know she’s safe, Rich. She was on the library roof over at the Pilkingtons one night last November, and Sir Rod began shooting at her with a shotgun!” RSW: (Frowning) “That is NOT good. Did Rod know it was Lydia?” Cicely: (With a sigh) “Oh, I don’t know. She had her balaclava on, but – I think he was a little worse for wear.” RSW: “Hmm. Shouldn’t she, you know – SEE someone about this whole burglary thing?” Cicely: “I suppose so. But she’s young. She’ll probably grow out of it. Sorry. About these..” (She motions to the tat laid out on the coffee table.) RSW: “Oh, that’s alright. It’s mostly junk anyway. And Seagal just ignores her most of the time. Besides, I often see my possessions around her London place when I am down there, and I appreciate her allowing me to stay there when I am in town.” Cicely: “You know why she likes you so much, don’t you, Rich?” RSW: (Uneasily) “Er, absent father?” Cicely: (Momentarily raising her eyebrows in concession) “Ha – no. Because you’re straight with her. You don’t indulge her. All of her boyfriend and male acquaintances just fall over themselves. It gets tedious. They are not good for her. Your friendship is a good influence.” RSW: (Amused) “Cice – If I am her main positive influence, then the girl DOES have problems!” Cicely: (Smiling) “Please – Rich, modesty doesn’t suit you!” RSW: “Ha ha! Nor does a lack of manners. Would you like a cup of tea?” Cicely: “Lovely. Earl Grey? Oh, I have just the thing...” (She roots in the holdall, triumphantly producing a silver tea pot) “There!” They both laugh as RSW rings the bell to summon Seagal, to put the kettle on...
Posted on: Fri, 05 Jul 2013 10:08:26 +0000
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