‘Oh, this is a blow,’ muttered the red-headed woman, as she wondered to herself, while she tried to put her shattered thoughts into some semblance of order.
She looked to Monsieur Bourbon, and then to the gargoyles, as she said this: ‘no, quiet… we need to put our thinking caps on, don’t we; but meantime, we will need some sustenance, at least for me and Monsieur – some hot chocolate and some croissants for dunking would be best.’
So those synthetic diamonds were put in that strong safe, just in case, as they all adjourned to a little café, a good place where no one would be nosy, and certainly not near a certain Inspector Clouseau, or at least she thought so.
‘Okay, tell me more,’ she said, as the two gargoyles leapt up to the nearest very tall building, in fact, a church with a belfry, as they both grinned, ‘so what, Monsieur Bourbon, shall we do now?’
‘Well, my dear, it’s quite true, those gems are not completely worthless, although not great, and of course, the real problem is these have been nicked, obviously, come on, we know each other pretty well,’ as the red-headed woman, raised an eyebrow, ‘but we are not quitting, are we?’ as Monsieur Bourbon finished he second croissant.
Meanwhile, the two gargoyles had been both busy on their smartphones and right by that gorgeous belfry; after a few minutes there were a few beeps, including Reena, as the two of them grinned a lot.
The two boys braked, then wheeled around and stopped. They peered at the sign. ‘This looks interesting.’ ‘Do you think there is a castle down there?’ as he read what it said. ‘Could be.’ ‘Well, it doesn’t say that we are not allowed to go along that drive, does it?’
So they started to bike while looking around the long winding road. It was pretty overgrown, and there seemed no-one around. But then, what a vista! The two of them stopped… dead.
‘What is it?’ ‘Certainly not an old castle.’
They dropped their bikes, then walked around the imposing round building. Just then, a large door opened from the inside, and a man appeared, and smiled. ‘Do come in, you’ll like this, I’m sure.’ He pointed up. The two of them looked up. For a moment they said nothing, but then they both said: ‘Wow, a wonderful observatory – how cool!’
That tatty lace was once so pretty. It covered those tall windows, and the light would shine brightly in the early evening. The sun still smiles, but there’s no-one to see it here in this house.
Then the house was a home.
The walls and the doors were painted in rich and bold colours. The garden was glorious with many exotic flowers, bushes and vegetables. And beyond, those magnificent trees would often seem to sing.
But that was a long time ago.
Would you see a ghost sometimes? Would you hear a strange knock in the night? Maybe? Maybe not.
~~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Historical Fiction Word Count: 100
The red-headed woman had responded to Monsieur Bourbon, although not quite so enthusiastically as she quickly kissed his cheeks two times, then righted her beret, while those two gargoyles looked on, as they wondered whether they might have a go as well.
However, Monsieur Bourbon had other plans as he spied those small satchels around their chests, as he looked and wondered as he said: ‘do tell what’s in there, since you two have been on a bit of a jaunt, am I right?’
The two gargoyles then mention those beautiful gems as they were about to remove them, but meanwhile the red-headed woman peered out from the shop window, while Monsieur Bourbon turned the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’, as he said: ‘let’s go into the backroom.’
‘Ah ha, diamonds,’ smiled Monsieur Bourbon, as he took his loupe and gently fixed it into his eye socket, as he began to analyse those gemstones and there were many of them to look at.
The red-headed woman began to pace, and soon, since it was taking such a long time, she started to march around, even though it was a rather small backroom, but the two gargoyles continued to watch the magnificent Monsieur – mesmerising – they both felt.
Then Monsieur Bourbon removed his loupe and said: ‘they’re not real, none of them… they are synthetic,’ – the red-headed woman said, ‘you mean they’re just junk and no real value?’ as she put up her head and jutted out her chin with grumpiness.
‘Well, this is a stroke of luck,’ muttered the red-headed woman to the two gargoyles, ‘see that Inspector Clouseau, he’s still walking around that busy boulevard, still walking briskly along, while swinging his truncheon happily, and taking no notice about anything at all, and that’s perfect, don’t you think,’ as she grinned.
‘Still,’ said the red-headed woman, ‘we’re not quite there yet, but I do remember exactly where that small shop is, and I’m sure he’ll still be there, also I’ll never forget his name, Monsieur Bourbon, so let’s get moving, as the two gargoyles agreed, while they continued to hold their small satchels very tightly.
Meanwhile, Mr Cushing and The Old One had commandeered the large kitchen – Francis had poked his head around the door to say, ‘be my guest, I’m sure you are both great cooks… sorry, I mean chefs.’
Mr Cushing had explained that he had bought some sirloin from the excellent butcher, ‘looks good, doesn’t it,’ while The Old One said, ‘hmm, very nice and bloody,’ as his fangs appeared for a moment, but then he said, ‘of course, we need to cook this, and nicely.’
‘Okay, let’s get to business,’ said Mr Cushing, ‘we’ll cube the beef since we have been hankering to make some delicious curry – not too hot but really creamy.
Meantime, the red-headed woman pushed open the tingly bell in that shop; Monsieur Bourbon was right next to the door, he cupped her face in his hands and then kissed her forehead.
The two boys had been wandering around that farm. ‘It’s very muddy, but we’ve got our wellies on.’ ‘I wonder whether there’s anyone around?
Suddenly a big tractor started to rev up. The two boys glanced over there, then waved. It seemed that whoever was driving hadn’t seen them. ‘Come on, we’ll run past that tractor.’ ‘Oh yes, and look at that trailer.’
The two of them started to run across the sticky mud, while the tractor stopped. An arm appeared from the cabin, and waved down to the two boys. ‘Want a lift?’ as a voice shouted to them.
The two of them grinned. ‘Hop in then,’ as the voice pointed to the trailer. The two of them jumped into the trailer, as the driver started to drive that tractor.
And how lucky they were. They were given some free spuds as they were dropped off by the village.
It was the opening exhibition, and she was a teensy-weensy nervous. She was wearing her good clothes (for once), and she had her best beret on her bonce (naturally). She held her champers while holding her pinkie out to look posh, as she helped herself with some dainty morsels.
It was terribly busy as everyone slowly milled around the various interesting (and uninteresting) paintings. It was always nice to see other artists, and many knew each other.
Then there was a loud couple of claps. An art critic appeared. There was a silence for a moment.
And the winner is…
~~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Historical Fiction Word Count: 100 (Not counting the lengthy title)
All of them were back in Paris, and how lovely they felt now – Joan had a long and relaxing huge bath, she loved to float around it; Scatty had a very hot and quick shower, she was almost buzzing; while the guys had been freshening up.
It seemed that none of them were bothered about those gems anymore, maybe because they don’t need any dosh, since they have oodles of cash around several banks and vaults, and also several countries – old and ancient vampires and other creatures have always looked after their money.
But where was the red-headed woman, and where were those two gargoyles? and maybe you might wonder about that too, so let’s listen in for a while.
The red-headed woman was making a plan and a plot (as often she would); she was not into the territory yet, and at least she wasn’t at the end of her tether, although this was going to be tricky, she glanced at the two gargoyles, ‘well, we have many teachable things, including getting those diamonds to Monsieur Bourbon.’
‘We need to get across several streets, including that busy boulevard, and definitely no talking, taunting or anything else; just keep quiet… remember, mums the word.’
The two of them said, ‘we will try to look as normal as we can, we will wear proper clothes and put on trilby hats; we will blend in as we walk – plus, we won’t talk to that monkey just there… oh gosh, it’s Clouseau… again!’
