Downtrodden Abbey: The Interminable Saga of an Insufferable Family by Gillian Fetlocks Page A
Authors: Gillian Fetlocks
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suspecting that Nana may simply be impressed with Brace’s newfound celebrity.
“Wasn’t it Gainsborough,” he notes, “Who said that in the future everyone will be well-known for a quarter of an hour?”
Indeed, Nana is elated, even aroused, when she hears that her paramour has made headlines in the local press.
“I had no idea you liked Chaucer,” she tells him. “And tape—how ingenious! Perhaps you can try that on me. With less nefarious intent, of course.”
“Nana,” Brace says. “Calm down. You cannot believe everything you read. This is merely a sign of the age we in which we are living. Someday the news media will be a reliable bastion of factual information, not a hotbed of gossip and falsification. Mark my words.”
Brace impulsively heads to London to confront Viral, who is now not only famous, but is frequently compared to the Paris Hilton, due to a radical weight gain and certain boxy appearance during her last few stressful months.
At the increasingly dreary abbey, Lord Crawfish is forced to put his trousers on one leg at a time and all by himself in Brace’s absence. He misses the sound of his old friend clomping up and down the stairs for hours at a time.
Brace, meanwhile, scours the London Library for a proper guide as to how to murder his wife in a gentlemanly manner. He stumbles upon Award-Winning Rat Poison Recipes, which contains the following:
Strawberry-Rhubarb Rat Poison Compote
INGREDIENTS:
One pound fresh Strawberries
One pound Rhubarb
Two cups sugar
Three teaspoons industrial strength rat poison
DIRECTIONS:
Stew rhubarb in one cup of water. Add strawberries and continue heating mixture. Stir in sugar to taste. Add rat poison. Serves one unwanted spouse.
When Brace returns, he is close-mouthed to everyone but Nana. The others can only imagine what may have happened between Brace and Viral during their unscheduled reunion.
“It was a dark and stormy night,” he begins, during a late-night rendezvous with his beloved scullery maid.
“Seriously?” she asks. “You call yourself a novelist, and you’re starting the story with ‘It was a dark and stormy night’?”
Brace shakes her by the shoulders, hoping to knock some sense into her.
“Look. For your information, the writing thing was just a lark, something to do between valet appointments. I would have thought you would want to know the truth about what everyone else is conjecturing upon. I know, I know—I ended that sentence with a preposition. But would you please just listen ?
“I rode the midnight train to Paddington Station. In the bar car, I had a Pimm’s with extra cucumber and some crisps. I sat next to an elderly woman who told me she was a fortune-teller, with clairvoyant abilities. She also did light housekeeping, and showed me how to remove a stain on my vest. Oh, and it turns out she was from Bristol, where my uncle had a fishing boat, and—”
* * *
Nana has fallen asleep. For the time being, Brace will have to keep his secret to himself.
The next evening at dinner, Lord Crawfish announces that the night’s activity would be another game of charades.
Drawing the first card, Roderick reads it, then points to his arm.
“ Venus de Milo, ” Nana guesses.
Lord Crawfish shakes his head no.
“The arm-y! You’re joining the army?” Flora suggests.
“Armistice!” Vile blurts out. “Could it be that the war is over?”
Lord Crawfish smiles. It’s true, he tells them. Finito. Kaput. No mas. Fin de la Guerre.
A celebration breaks out, and an eighth meal is served.
* * *
Downtrodden Abbey makes preparations for post-war life. The salon is gutted, as soldiers return to their homes and find local hairdressers to accommodate their needs. Flora gently suggests to Marry that she give Atchew the boot and see if she can make it work with Calamine.
Edwardian tonsil hockey.
But just as he is about to leave, a miracle occurs. Atchew fully recovers the ability to speak
“Wasn’t it Gainsborough,” he notes, “Who said that in the future everyone will be well-known for a quarter of an hour?”
Indeed, Nana is elated, even aroused, when she hears that her paramour has made headlines in the local press.
“I had no idea you liked Chaucer,” she tells him. “And tape—how ingenious! Perhaps you can try that on me. With less nefarious intent, of course.”
“Nana,” Brace says. “Calm down. You cannot believe everything you read. This is merely a sign of the age we in which we are living. Someday the news media will be a reliable bastion of factual information, not a hotbed of gossip and falsification. Mark my words.”
Brace impulsively heads to London to confront Viral, who is now not only famous, but is frequently compared to the Paris Hilton, due to a radical weight gain and certain boxy appearance during her last few stressful months.
At the increasingly dreary abbey, Lord Crawfish is forced to put his trousers on one leg at a time and all by himself in Brace’s absence. He misses the sound of his old friend clomping up and down the stairs for hours at a time.
Brace, meanwhile, scours the London Library for a proper guide as to how to murder his wife in a gentlemanly manner. He stumbles upon Award-Winning Rat Poison Recipes, which contains the following:
Strawberry-Rhubarb Rat Poison Compote
INGREDIENTS:
One pound fresh Strawberries
One pound Rhubarb
Two cups sugar
Three teaspoons industrial strength rat poison
DIRECTIONS:
Stew rhubarb in one cup of water. Add strawberries and continue heating mixture. Stir in sugar to taste. Add rat poison. Serves one unwanted spouse.
When Brace returns, he is close-mouthed to everyone but Nana. The others can only imagine what may have happened between Brace and Viral during their unscheduled reunion.
“It was a dark and stormy night,” he begins, during a late-night rendezvous with his beloved scullery maid.
“Seriously?” she asks. “You call yourself a novelist, and you’re starting the story with ‘It was a dark and stormy night’?”
Brace shakes her by the shoulders, hoping to knock some sense into her.
“Look. For your information, the writing thing was just a lark, something to do between valet appointments. I would have thought you would want to know the truth about what everyone else is conjecturing upon. I know, I know—I ended that sentence with a preposition. But would you please just listen ?
“I rode the midnight train to Paddington Station. In the bar car, I had a Pimm’s with extra cucumber and some crisps. I sat next to an elderly woman who told me she was a fortune-teller, with clairvoyant abilities. She also did light housekeeping, and showed me how to remove a stain on my vest. Oh, and it turns out she was from Bristol, where my uncle had a fishing boat, and—”
* * *
Nana has fallen asleep. For the time being, Brace will have to keep his secret to himself.
The next evening at dinner, Lord Crawfish announces that the night’s activity would be another game of charades.
Drawing the first card, Roderick reads it, then points to his arm.
“ Venus de Milo, ” Nana guesses.
Lord Crawfish shakes his head no.
“The arm-y! You’re joining the army?” Flora suggests.
“Armistice!” Vile blurts out. “Could it be that the war is over?”
Lord Crawfish smiles. It’s true, he tells them. Finito. Kaput. No mas. Fin de la Guerre.
A celebration breaks out, and an eighth meal is served.
* * *
Downtrodden Abbey makes preparations for post-war life. The salon is gutted, as soldiers return to their homes and find local hairdressers to accommodate their needs. Flora gently suggests to Marry that she give Atchew the boot and see if she can make it work with Calamine.
Edwardian tonsil hockey.
But just as he is about to leave, a miracle occurs. Atchew fully recovers the ability to speak
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