Full Disclosure

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Just Old Al
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Re: Full Disclosure

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Chapter 41:

A half-hour later they returned, both smelling of soap and a bit of scent.

Rosalynd was dressed as she had been when they walked to dinner in Halifax – a satiny blouse, chinos and her ever-present knee boots. Al was much the same – fresh khakis and the scent of his myrrh shaving soap adding to the scene.

Hew and Mill had changed as well – their garb was much like their visitors’.

“So, where are we off to, then?” Al asked, amused and ready for an evening out.

“Mind yer business, then – ye’ll see when we get there!” Hew replied. Al noted the merry aura around his emotions and relaxed – obviously whatever was on tap suited the genial farmer perfectly. Let him have his fun – I so missed him and his pranks. Al thought.

Donning their coats the two couples walked to the door and into the subdued light of the farmyard. Al and Rosalynd headed for the Bentley, the other couple just ahead. Reaching the car Al was surprised to see Hew and Mill continue walking.

“I thought we were taking the Bentley?” he asked, confused. Rosalynd looked at Al, just as confused.

”I was having ye on. Come on, now.” Confused but willing Al and Rosalynd caught up to Hew and Mill. As they did Al noted the door of the vehicle barn was open, and a warm light played over the ground outside from within.

In a few minutes they reached the open door, and the confusion cleared quickly.

The inside of the barn had been cleared and the equipment either moved to the side or put out behind. In the now open space long tables and chairs had been set up, with seating for fifty or more.

Along the wall the workbench had been cleaned, and covered with festive cloths. Topping the cloths were dishes of casseroles, salads of many kinds, and platters of meats. In deference to all present each dish was labeled with ingredients – preventing issues with allergies and preferences.

A second table was adorned with the bakers’ art – breads, farm butter, pastries, pies and the products dear to a Yorkshireman’s sweet-loving heart.

Another table groaned under the burden of a keg and tankards, with bottles of wine and mead accompanying it on the surface. Tubs of bottles were also there, nestled in beds of ice.

Al and Rosalynd stopped dumbstuck. “Hew, what’s going on here?” Al asked.

“Welcome to the monthly meeting of the Dales Highland Trust and their employees and friends.” Hew proclaimed proudly. “Once a month or so the officers get together to discuss business, and this usually happens over a meal at one of the farmsteads or another that’s a part of the Trust. This time, however….we expanded the list a bit.”

Raising his voice Hew addressed the crowd already present. “Friends, countrymen and women - welcome! Please make welcome my cousin and his wife – Sergeant-Major Al Richer late of Her Majesty’s Forces and his wife, Lady Rosalynd Alexander-Richer, of Maple Grove, Minnesota.

“By the grace of God in His wisdom they have found their way to my door – a miracle not to be turned away. So eat, drink and be merry – we have much to celebrate!”

The folks present, obviously expecting this proclamation, loudly cheered, clapped and catcalled the speaker, who paid little attention to it. Turning to the other couple Hew said “Dinna think this is all for ye – wouldn’t want ye getting a swelled head over the whole thing and all.” Behind him Mill opened and closed her hand in the universal symbol of a talking mouth, while wearing an expression that belied Hew’s statement. At seeing Mill’s reaction Rosalynd and Al chuckled – neither had taken it seriously in any case.

The four made their way into the barn, and the preparations for dinner, already nearly completed, continued. Walking to the drinks table Hew turned to Rosalynd and asked, “Glass of wine before dinner, Rosalynd?”

“Yes, thank you!” Serving her, he then poured a tankard of ale for Millicent and one for himself, then turned to Al and said “You can shift for yourself – lemonade in the tubs!”

“I say – rather short shrift I’m being given here! First a reminder not to get a swelled head, then ‘Find your own drinks!’ ” Al joked back.

Laughing, Hew pulled a ginger beer from the ice and poured it into a tankard, handing it to Al. “I do apologize, dear cousin…but I had to. I still remember some of the rows you and I used to get into when we were lads.” Raising his glass high, he said ”May we never have to address a serious word to another again.“ To that Al answered ”From your mouth to the Gods’ ears.” and clinked his tankard against Hew’s.

Moving to a table they sat at the center, Rosalynd and Al to one side and Hew and Millicent to the other. The next ten minutes was occupied in introductions – the other occupants of the table each being introduced in turn, and Al and Rosalynd making their acquaintances.

Farmers and their wives, sons and daughters, even one of the local vets and her assistant made themselves known. Soon, Rosalynd and Al were almost dizzy with all the names, and Mill laughed.

“Don’t worry – no one expects you to remember all of this. However, they will certainly remember you, Lady Alexander!” Mill laughed, and Al could feel the carefully quashed spike of irritation his wife felt. To the comment, though, she sweetly answered, “Oh, I will remember all of them. One of my duties, after all!”

Al could see it happening – the same queueing of the local ladies to be introduced to Lady Alexander. So, her ‘court’ is forming again…this should be interesting. he thought.

A few minutes after that a shout went up of ”Come and Get it!” Happily, the crowd queued up, men, women and children all jostling in the line. A buzz of conversation continued as folks queued for the seemingly inexhaustible bounty of the tables.

Al was kept busy telling and retelling his finding Hew and return to family. It seemed that the farm hands had spread the stories in various forms, and he was kept busy correcting assumptions and misconceptions.

Finally, with another tankard of ginger beer and a laden trencher he returned to his spot at the table. Hew and Mill soon returned with their plates, and Rosalynd soon after them. She, like he, had been kept busy telling their story, and this had slowed her progress to and from the buffet.

Sitting down, she said “Hew, Millicent – thank you! This is WONDERFUL!” Rosalynd’s eyes sparkled, and very little of that had to do with the sipped glass of wine she’d had.

Again, Al saw his wife falling under the spell of his home and the people who inhabited it. I can see that keeping our word to Tirion to come over once a year is not going to be a problem. I can see regular weekends in our future. Got to see about getting Rosalynd a proper helmet for going out in the Morgan! he thought. Falling under the spell of the picture of his wife in her present garb in the Morgan with the wind pressing her silky blouse to her contours, his eyes glazed over for a moment, enjoying the thought until Rosalynd smacked him back into congruence.

“Answer the man!”

“Answer what, dear? I’m sorry, I was woolgathering…what did you ask me, Hew?”

“Now that ye have a place and people to visit, will we be seeing ye?” Hew semi-bellowed over the crowd noise.

Al pretended to think hard, much to Rosalynd’s delight as she knew from his emotions quite well what the answer was.

“I have to say – yes. Definitely. As we said to Mill, Rosalynd and I would like to come over with our eldest and his family. Tentatively perhaps late August depending on schedules and school starting at home for the younger ones.

“As a general answer – yes. Most definitely. Now that we have the place in Fen Ditton – and it is suited to visitors quite well – we expect you to come down and see us, as well. A weekend away from the farm should be easy to arrange, I suspect.”

Hew looked alarmed. “Well, Al – it all depends on t’ situation at t’ time. A farm is a 24-hour a day business, as ye know-“

Al stood, and using a knife rapped on his tankard. The talk in the room quieted a bit, and Al turned on a bit of the Sergeant-Major’s abilities.

“SO, me cousin here – THIS MAN RIGHT HERE – is trying to tell me he is INDISPENSABLE to New Keep Farm and that NO ONE could possibly replace him and Millicent for a weekend if he came to visit me at my place in Cambridge! WHAT SAY YE!”

The roar in the barn was pleasingly loud, and composed of equal denials of his statement, laughter, and offers to take care of his lands for as many weekends as he might care to go and visit.

As the roar quieted Al spoke again, his words serious. “THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart, ladies and gentlemen. I now know that the miserable git has NO reason not to wind up that miserable old Ninety of his and come and visit me, or hop a train or find his way there somehow. THANK YOU. Now, go on about yer business – nothing to see here – back to yer plates….” he concluded, hand fluttering in dismissal.

As he sat the laughter began again, and a loud round of catcalls mostly directed at Hew bounced off the walls. After a bit they settled down and the buzz of conversation retuned to the room.

“Now that we have that settled my good man, what were you saying?” Al said, fully aware of his cousin’s discomfiture and amazement at Al’s handling of the crowd.

Millicent was still trying to catch her breath – and she finally did. “He’s shown YOU, Hew Whyte! He’s enlisted your friends and hands to MAKE you take a weekend off and go and visit. I do NOT want to hear any excuses from you, now, when yon cousin invites you to his home in Cambridge!”

Hew knew when he’d been beaten, fair and square. First the actions of his mad cousin, enlisting his friends against him, then his wife putting him on notice…he gave up.

“Yes, my love. Of course we will.” Putting on his best martyred expression he sat there trying to look aggrieved – and failed dismally.

Millicent burst out in laughter. “Oh, do NOT even THINK about acting put-upon here. You, my good man, have family who’s returned to you after many years – family you mentioned often as the years went by. He is putting you on notice that you are expected to come and visit him as he will come and visit us. Do NOT think for a SECOND that any of us actually believe that you are feeling put upon.” She stared at him, and he straightened, took a deep breath, and promptly dove onto his wife, enveloping her in a giant hug and kissing her firmly on the lips.

The kiss went on and on, and Al AHEMed loudly, accompanied by Rosalynd snickering.

Finally, Hew broke the clutch and Mill, seeming a bit dazed, sat back in her chair. Al could sense more than a bit of honest lust in both of them, and Hew with the glee of having gotten the last word in the discussion.

Hew spoke smugly. “If I have said it once I have said it a hundred times – there is sometimes only one way to win an argument.” He put his arm around his wife and hugged her gently, and she did the same to him. Letting go, both of them turned to their plates, and Hew asked innocently, “D’ye agree, my dear cousin?”

“Absolutely, dear cousin.” Al turned to his wife, who held up a hand. “Not now, tiger. I’m hungry, and you and your theatrics have slowed down my appreciation of this fantastic spread. Eat now, neck later.” She turned back to her plate, but Al could feel the love in her heart as if it was his own – which it was.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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Just Old Al
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Re: Full Disclosure

Post by Just Old Al »

Chapter 42:

As they ate they talked, both between themselves and with the other folks at the table.
The story of Al and Rosalynd’s arrival was of interest and discussed up and down the table. The reason for it was carefully not discussed, but the return itself talked of in detail.

With that, the guests themselves were a topic of fascination. Lady Alexander was asked endless questions about AHI and her family – them being fodder for the gossip mills. Questions about Rowdy and his sweetheart, Buck and his family and Cinnamon and her antics were all debated up and down the table – the availability of first-hand information being too good to pass up.

Other than questions directed to him directly Al kept silent and just watched his wife. Excited, buoyed by excellent food and wine and relishing the conversation she kept up a continuous stream of answers and anecdotes to the interested folk at the table.

Her ‘court’ has formed again – fascinating. Al thought to himself. Rather than repudiating her role and station she’d come to embrace it, and the people to whom it meant something.

Dinner went on and soon empty plates sat before them. Beginning to consider an assault on the sweets Al was interrupted by a commotion at the side of the room. A set of overhead lights had been snapped on, and they illuminated a stack of instruments and a small amplifier or two. From the tables several individuals made their way to the area – one of which was Al’s conversation friend of the morning.

Alyssa lass, what’s going on?

She turned toward him, smiled and waved. In his mind he heard the answer, short and merry. Did ye think that there’d be a party with nae music? Sit and enjoy – I assure ye ye will nae be disappointed.

As they converged instruments were picked up – a fiddle, a bodhrán, flute, and mandolin and for Alyssa, a tambourine along with a microphone with stand around which her fellow players gathered.

“Now that you’ve filled yer bellies, can ye take a bit of music t’ keep ye awake?” s he said, the merriment in her voice a bright spark.

A chorus of cheers replied to her call, and with that the band swung into action. The mandolin player leaned to the microphone and said “We’ll start out with a traditional Yorkshire tune – sing along if ye know it.”

A count, and the violin swing into a wild tune which Al would have called more Middle Eastern than old English. With the violin came tinkles from the cymbals of the tambourine and then the rest joined in.

The mandolin player began to sing, his words audible even without the amplifier.

“Istanbul is Constantinople
Now it’s Istanbul not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Just a Turkish Delight on a moonlit night!

Every gal in Constantinople
Lives in Istanbul not Constantinople
So if you’ve a date in Constantinople
She’ll be waiting in Istanbul.”

Al and Rosalynd turned to each other with looks of sincere confusion, then turned to Millicent and Hew.

Hew was laughing, greatly enjoying their discomfiture. “THEY’RE ALL ABSOLUTELY DAFT!” he bellowed over the music. In a scarcely quieter tone he continued.

“They’re good musicians, but they got tired of the same old traditional music over and over again. You’ll hear much of England’s finest here tonight, but then again you’ll get much of this!” he concluded, hooking his thumb toward the band.

As they’d talked, the song had continued, and they reached the final stanza.

“So take me back to Constantinople
(No you can’t go back to Constantinople)
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That’s nobody’s business but the Turks!”

And with the appropriate flourishes the song ended, to riotous applause from the seated diners, obviously expecting just such silliness. Heartened by the response, the musicians preened a bit, and began to play again.

The mandolin player set his instrument and picked up another – and Al cringed. Noticing this, Rosalynd asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, Gods…a banjo. The last time I had one of those inflicted on my hearing it was Greg and some of his endless ‘down the holler’ folk music. I do hope this is not what they have in store for us.”

Rosalynd looked stern. “Shut it, two-legs. I want to hear this.” As they quieted the now banjo player began to pick out a winsome, lonely tune on his instrument, and after the introduction Alyssa began to sing. The lyrics of ‘Annabelle Lee’ came from her, clear and strong, and wove a spellbinding harmony with the simple banjo.

After the first chorus her voice rose stronger, and the violin and drum joined to add their part to the bridge. Stanza after stanza of the haunting tune of the lost young lover and her heartbroken suitor did she weave, until she ended it with the statement that the lover would lie beside the bones of his lost love.

Alyssa quieted, as did the violin and the drum, leaving the banjo to bring the tune to its quiet, morose conclusion. The audience was silent for a moment, and then erupted in applause.

“It seems I am going to have to apologize to that miserable redneck about his choice of instrument.” Al said, still under the spell of the music. Rosalynd nodded, leaning forward as if to catch the next notes sooner.

After the applause quieted, Alyssa announced “And the next tune is an old Scottish song – ‘The Elfin Knight’ Those of you fond of Simon and Garfunkel may vaguely recognize it, and for the rest of ye – back to yer pints – nothing to see here.”

The audience laughed, and the musicians began again, with the violin taking lead in the introduction. At the proper time Alyssa began to sing., her words echoing out over the now-silent crowd.

“The Elfin Knight stands on yon hill
He blows his horn both loud and shrill
He stands so proud and he stands so still
Blow winds blow my bonny o
Blow winds blow my bonny
Blow winds blow my bonny o
Blow winds blow my bonny “

As the song continued, Rosalynd leaned to Al and said “I’ve got everything Simon and Garfunkel ever put out – this doesn’t sound familiar.”

Al nodded, watching the skills of the musicians as they played. “Listen to the story. It’s that of a woman who tells the Elfin Knight that she will marry him if he makes her a fine dress and a garland of flowers for her hair – then down to the church they’ll go – somewhere the elfin knight cannot go as he is fae.

“She leaves him blowing his horn on the hill, still without a love.”

“But-“

“Scarborough Faire is the later version of this, dear, and more English than the Scottish of the Elfin Knight.”
“Ohhhhhhh….” The light of comprehension lit in her eyes, and she nodded.

The music continued – some of the tunes wistful, some ribald, and some rousing. One especially suited the time – and the wonderful happenings of the past few days.

Alyssa announced “This song is dedicated to the Sergeant-Major and his family – more power to them for being together again. It’s a tune called ‘Dark Road’ and normally performed by as lass named Sarah Jarosz – but I think we’ll borrow it for just this evening.”

The banjo player and his odd six-stringed instrument began again – a tune much further akin to American bluegrass than to the traditional music that had been heard that evening. Again Alyssa began to sing., her powerful voice resonating over the rapt listeners.

“You are going down a dark road
And you find yourself alone
And you are seeing things
You never saw before

But the loneliness will leave you
And you find yourself at home
Then suddenly the world
Is knocking at your door.”

The tempo changed slightly, and the other band members joined with Alyssa in harmony for the chorus:

“The darkness covers you sometimes
The road is long but it always unwinds
And I find if you take your time
You will make it fine.”

The second stanza struck deep in Al’s heart, and he began to tear up. Rosalynd, sensing this held his hand and poured her heart down their bond, assuring him of her presence even as he appreciated the words being sung.

“The emptiness that fills me up
Is farther from me now
But it always lingers
On the back roads of my mind

I am falling from the darkness
Up into a swirling light
And I am looking at
The one I had to find.”

Al leaned to his wife and looked deep into her eyes, and she into his. This was a magic moment and both knew it.

With a final chorus the song came to a gentle end, and there was silence.

Alyssa announced “We’re going to stop for a pee and a pint – back in a bit. It’s been a wee bit quiet out there – should we bother to come back?”

The uproar sounded more like that of five hundred throats than fifty and Alyssa answered it. “Very well, then! Twenty minutes and we’re back. Till then, just chat amongst yerselves.” The crowd laughed, and the band members headed for the tables again. As they did, a line formed at the sweets tables, and pots of coffee began to make their appearance.

As he was considering a run for the sweets himself Al heard a voice in his mind. So, enjoying yer evening are you and the Lady?

Yes, we most certainly are. Bravo to you and your mates in the band!

Mate indeed – the lad on the sweet violin is none other than my own husband.

Bravo to him and to you, lass – that last song was spot-on – spot-on indeed. For all that I had lost and have finally found.,..Blessed Be. Do come around either while you rest or afterward, and let me properly introduce you and your gentleman to the Lady. It would be my honour.

We shall, we shall indeed, Al. Until then enjoy your family old and new, and let us celebrate the finding with you! You are sure you’re having a good time, though?
she asked coyly.

Ducks, your music is absolutely magical. Al thought, thoroughly tongue in cheek.

She turned toward him, fists on waist and fixed him with an amused look of ire. Ye had t’go there, then? Ye JUST had t’ go there?

Truer words were never spoken, lass. Truly magical – and apologies to your coven for the term. Now go have your pee, get your pint and come over with your young man. I’d love to introduce you!


“I recognize that look. Who are you talking to?” Rosalynd asked.

“Alyssa. The lady who was singing with the band. She and the violin player – her husband – are going to be making their way over in a bit to make your acquaintance, Lady Rosalynd.”

Rosalynd sighed noisily, leading Hew and Millicent to notice. “Something wrong, Daisy?” Millicent asked, a bit concerned.

“No, nothing really. I’m just still figuring out this whole Lady thing…that my husband keeps shoving on me.” She looked at Al with a serious case of irritation.

“I am sorry, dear – Alyssa and her husband wanted to meet you and I didn’t think it a problem. If you like I’ll head them off.”

She shook her head. “No, please don’t. It’s just…this is kind of hard to keep up. Honestly, I’m glad we’re headed home. I need to do a lot of studying up to live up to this peerage.” Her emotions were a bit despairing, and Al realized he’d pushed her too far.

“I’m sorry, love. I do apologize. Let me head them off.”

“No, don’t. After that wonderful music it would be crass to do that. Lady Alexander I am, and Lady Alexander I have to be.” She straightened her shoulders, and Al could almost see the mantle settle to her shoulders.

“While we wait, O minion of mine, fetch me another glass of wine, and while you’re at it, some dessert from the table would go well. Get something for yourself, as well.” she tossed off with a haughty air.

“I’ll come with ye to help.” Hew said, standing from his side. As the two men headed off, Hew touched Al’s shoulder and pointed to the door of the barn. Nodding, Al followed, and soon both men stood in the comfortable dark and quiet of the farm yard.

“Do not dodge, dear cousin. Twice now I have seen ye converse with the darling Alyssa, and neither time was a word said. Yet ye know her husband’s the fiddle player, and asked her to come and visit not a word spoken between ye.”

“Darling Alyssa? Does your wife know of this infatuation, Hew?”

Hew’s face hardened, and Al realized the time for prevarication was over. Speaking quickly, he told the elderly farmer “Hew, I was afraid to say this, not knowing how you felt. I’m a mage – an earth mage, to be precise.” Al held up a hand, noting the change on Hew’s face from anger to incredulity and trying to stem the torrent of questions.

“This is not something that’s generally known past the walls of my office and home. I Emerged less than a decade ago – turned out that spending time around that marvelous young woman you met a few days ago and her family – mages all, and powerful – caused my latent Power to Emerge. Thankfully they were there to help me with it, or madness and death would have been the only end to it.”

Hew stood, face an emotionless mask, though Al knew better as he could feel the roiling emotions behind it. Finally Hew laughed and clapped his arm over Al’s shoulders.
“Someday, dear cousin, ye need to tell me this story. Till then, I insist ye come back in the Spring. The leylines could use a bit o’ work with the tramplers about, and I’m sure ye could help. Would ye?”

“Of course, and if I ask, no doubt Sterling would come along as well. Would that suit?”

“Yes. Someday ye need t’ tell me that story as well. Supermodels?”

“Strewth. I was working in my works one day, and she came in with her little playmates. Georgette Sundahl and her girlfriend, large as life. The fun started when Rosalynd came in and saw me hugging Georgette in thanks for a gift…”

With that Al and Hew headed back indoors.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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Just Old Al
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Re: Full Disclosure

Post by Just Old Al »

Chapter 43:

The Bentley idled at the door of the house, warming quietly.

The goodbyes had been said, hugs given and received, and promises to visit given by both couples. The refilled picnic hamper was in place in the back seat, with a vacuum flask of coffee accompanying it.

Al in the front, Rosalynd in the back, neither looked back as Al put the big car in gear and trundled it down the drive. While happily anticipating the return home neither enjoyed leaving the quiet farm – the quiet of the land had infiltrated their souls as it had long since done to Hew and Millicent.

The farm couple watched the limousine pick its way down the farm track. Not turning from the sight Hew sighed and asked Millicent “D’ye think we’ll see them again? Grand lady she is, and Al her consort. Not our kind of folk, eh, girl?”

Millicent chuckled. “Somehow, I think that that will not be an issue. We will see them again, and soon.“ She took a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to her husband, who scanned it casually, then again intently.

“So what’s this for, then?” The ‘this’ in question was a check, made out to New Keep Farm for a large sum of money.

“This is a paid-in-full rental for one of the self-caters. Lady Alexander was adamant about not imposing on us when they return in autumn. She plans to bring her eldest and his family to visit, and I expect that also means she will bring Al as a driver and man of work.”

Hew chuckled at her assessment of the loving couple, and then bridled as a thought came to mind. “We can’t charge family for a cottage – it’s not right.” Hew was adamant – charging family for lodgings!

Millicent chuckled again. “I will not be depositing this, you silly man. Daisy insisted on paying the shot for the cottage, and was not going to take no for an answer. However, I said nothing about cashing it.”

Tossing a beefy arm over her shoulder Hew said, “Well, answers that then. Seems we’ll be tripping over Yanks in the foreseeable future. Good on them, and us. So, off to work – need to go terrorize the hands.”

Millicent ducked out from under his arm and closed, hugging the elderly farmer. “We will indeed be seeing them again, and I will not hear a complaint about it. It’s still amazing – him turning up as he did, her in tow.”

“Amazing indeed – them finding us as they did. Now, off to work – the lands call.” He bent and kissed her forehead and they stood together, then slowly parted – her to the office and him to the fields.

In the car, the mood was quiet as Al picked his way down the gently curving roads toward the motorway and Cambridge. Rosalynd sat in the back, busily rooting through the picnic hamper. Unearthing two insulated covered cups she opened the vacuum flask and decanted part of the contents into each, stoppering it and stowing it again before passing one forward. She sipped from hers and sighed contentedly.

“Yorkshire Gold with cream and turbinado. Lovely. I’m surprised you drink Bewley’s, Al – this is a nice tea.”

“It is. I’ll have to stock it as well, now – never hear the end of it if they come to visit and I have ‘nowt but heathen Irish tea’. Al chuckled quietly, and then asked “So, heading home. Impressions?”

“Jesus, Two-Legs – you don’t ask for much, do you? A funeral, a journey, revelations, the finding of family again and you want a fucking plot synopsis? Jesus, old man.” She sipped her tea, considering that a sufficient answer.

Al prodded again. “I mean it. I’ve been a bit too close to all of this, as you can imagine. My mind is still at one level and another spinning from all of this. The thought I have a name and an address on my telephone that I can call and speak to my cousin, and that at some time I’ll be able to meet his sons and know my blood line is continuing…it’s a bit much.”

Rosalynd was quiet in the back, though after a long moment she spoke. “I understand, believe me. I’m not doubting this is all a helluva thing to take in, but asking for a synopsis is a bit much. I will, however, give you what impressions I’ve formed. This is going to be from my point of view – this has been a helluva trip for me too, but for different reasons than yours.

“In short, I’ve learned about the place you called home. I don’t mean Leeds – fuck that and the sheep it rode in on! – but England. The people here, the places, their lives and loves…fascinating. I think…I’ve fallen in love with the place.

“At first when I thought about Fen Ditton it was a case of ‘oh, great – more maintenance’. “ She raised a hand to ward off the angry rejoinder and continued. “That was before we went there and met Tirion. Even then to be honest, the thought of having to come over once a year was a case of ‘oh, well…it’ll be fine.’.”

Al asked “And now?”

“And now….I hate to be leaving, in part of me. Seeing England from outside of a corporate limo and getting to meet real people has just…changed me. That damn title – and I blame YOU for winding me up with that, asshole – I realize I haven’t treated that with the respect and dignity it deserves. It’s not a joke.”

“Care to stop in a pub for a game of darts? Go a quick 501, though the board will likely be London pattern and not Yorkshire.” Al kidded, knowing well what her reaction would be. In that he was mistaken, as instead of laughter he got another reaction.

“I wish we could. I’d give a lot to stop at the White Horse for a sandwich and a game of darts with Phoebe, Mabyn and Horatia. That’s what I mean. At home I’d never think about going to a bar and playing a game of pool, but here…darts in the pub is just right.

“I am going to need your help when we get home – I need to understand what I am here, and how to handle myself. Now, what about you? Impressions, as you say?”

Al was silent for a minute, and Rosalynd feared she’d poked something that should have been left alone. Finally he spoke, and while wistful he was nowhere near sad, as she could feel.

“Impressions?? Somehow that word is too pale for what I feel. it’s been a tumultuous time.

“Sadness – I am still angry at myself for not being here for Michael. Standing sentinel for him is not a replacement for the long years when I could have come to see him and I didn’t. However, all I can do there is to live well and meet him again in the Timeless Place – and then he and I will reconcile.

“I’m glad I was able to carry out his final wishes, and we’ll visit him often in the Dales. I think I’m going to move his old Renault on, and buy a 90 or 110 for the stable at Arabesque. Far better car for the family if they come and visit – and let’s be honest fuel is not an issue even at the prices here.” He lapsed into silence.

“That’s not all. Keep talking.”

“Oh, no. it is decidedly not all. You and I still need to have long talks about what you saw. While I no longer worry that you will discard me-“

“And you NEVER HAD TO, ASSHOLE.”

“-I still need to work though my feelings over it despite that rather aggressive statement. There’s a lot of buried emotion there, dear, and I’d like your help to work it through.”

“You have it. Surprised family wasn’t at the top of the list, honestly. Reason?”

“First off, we just left, so freshest in my mind. That was a thousand to one shot, even despite Director Oduya’s machinations.”

“Other than get that info from MIB what did Brandi do?”

“I told you….didn’t I?”

“Nooooo…..give.”

“Oh, dear.”

With an unusual economy of words for him he detailed Brandi’s plot to give him an ‘adventure’. And, that having been said, he detailed the panic that had ensued between him and Hew over the veiled references to centaurs and the none-too-subtle needling.

When he finished, the silence was thick in the car for several seconds.

Then Rosalynd spoke.

“Fuck. FUCK! That golem bitch! I am going to rend her sorry ass limb from LIMB!” As she stopped to take a breath Al quickly intervened, as this was going to be a truly epic blow-up.

“Dear, it is all done. Director Oduya has been informed why this was a bad idea – not sharing Hew’s awareness sooner – and that is over and DONE. AM I understood?”

“Yes, but really Al this is just-“

“Rosalynd, please. She meant well, and if she had not done what she did we would have missed out on a splendid adventure. Had I not been as dense as I am the panic would never have happened – so as much of that as there is is on me as well as her. Let it go.”

Rosalynd chuckled, the ire dissipating. “We did have a helluvan adventure, didn’t we?”

“Ask your dart-playing friends about that one.”

At that, the conversation in the car abated. Radio on and classic music playing the hours and miles flew by until the Bentley was pulling into the drive at Arabesque.

Taking it round to the garage Al backed it in after opening the door, and once emptied he reverently blanketed the car with its cover.

Tirion, having heard them return, stood at the garage door, a broad smile on her face as she hefted their bags and the again-empty picnic hamper.

“So, how long will ye be here, Al, Lady?”

“Just the night, sad to say. Then we need to be off to London and home. Can you spare us a crust and a pallet in the barn?”

“I think we can do better than that. Come on in – the kettle’s hot.” With that, she led the way into the house.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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Just Old Al
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Re: Full Disclosure

Post by Just Old Al »

Epilogue:

The day was bright and crisp, and the turning of the leaves on the trees in Chesnut Park a flame-coloured accent against the red brick of the industrial building behind it.

Children played in the park, scuffling through the drifts of leaves from the trees and reveling in the bright sunshine under the watchful gaze of their parents.

At RE, things were much the same. The staff went about their work with a spring in their steps, the bright sun and crisp air a tonic to spirits tired of summer heat. The coffee machines were doing a brisk business, and the burnt-dust smell of heating systems coming on added an olfactory background to the day.

Al was in the back shop, a microtome at work slicing prepared samples from an organic specimen found in a bit of Lanthian mechanism under his patient guidance. The ringing of his cellphone was loud in the quiet space, startling him from his concentration.

“Yes, Ari?”

”Sorry to bother you when you’re in the back shop, but there’s a shipment out here you need to sign for.”

“I need to sign for? How odd. Which one of our vendors’ staffs has had a temporary case of brain damage to cause this?”

”Overseas shipment. You know the brokers – they love to mess up the paperwork. Come on out – need a cup of coffee anyway and I know you do.”

“And what would make you assume that, O Parakeet?”

”You’re vertical and breathing. You live on coffee, Al. Am I wrong?”

“Hardly. Sad to say – actually not sad to say – coffee is my one vice. Very well – meet you at the loading dock.”

A few minutes later Al stepped into the dock area. Ari was there waiting and Al’s alert level ratcheted up. Yon parakeet is a bit too gleeful, methinks…something is up.

“So, what is this shipment that requires my signature?”

“Outside. I told them to get ready to offload and then you’d sign for it once you inspected it.” With that she turned and opened the human door at the dock side, and she and Al passed through.

Outside a covered auto transport waited, canvas sides rippling in the breeze. Al was surprised.

“Unless I’ve gone completely senile we weren’t expecting any overseas vehicle shipments – and those normally come through Runnymeade. What’s this, then?”

Ari’s glee spiked again and Al realized he was being had – and decided to ride along with it.

“You’ll see.” With that she banged on the canvas and the rear of the truck opened – and a long, sleek shape in black and cream backed out of it. As Al saw the shape slowly back from the trailer his jaw dropped in shock.

“WHAT is Victoria doing here? Last I saw her I’d covered her in the garage in Fen Ditton. EXPLAIN.”

Giggling, Ari extracted an envelope from a folder she was holding and held it out to Al. Taking it, he noted it was high quality parchment and written with posterity in mind.

Opening the wax seal, he extracted and unfolded a few sheets of matching parchment, covered in script in a strong, feminine hand.

He read:



Arabesque
Fen Ditton
England CB5 8ST.

Greetings from the village, and I hope this letter finds you and the Lady well.

However, with that said, I must confess to an indiscretion. In short:

Bless me Sergeant-Major, I have sinned.

When the changes to the V5s came though for Victoria and Biggles the Morgan it occurred to me that the status quo was simply intolerable – and I resolved to do something about it.

Since you and the Lady left Victoria had only been out twice – once to be checked over and cleaned after your journey, and again for her oil changes and checks on the quarterly schedule that Michael had put in place.

Every time I went to the workshop to check on them she rebuked me, especially since the Defender had been delivered and the Renault sold on. All I heard was “Let’s go for a run! Please! Please!”

More the point, there was no need for her to stay here as a monument to Michael, and be maintained and pampered but never used and enjoyed. Michael would not have cared for that at all – he was not one for looking backward but always forward to the next adventure. Realizing that, I knew where she needed to be – and that was with you both.

With the assistance of your majordomo
I arranged for Victoria to find her way to you and the Lady. She needs to be where you are – to be loved and pampered and driven often.

As I saw it you are not without a vehicle when you come over – the new 110 is here and the Morgan for when you feel the need to fly. I have little trouble seeing you and the Lady dressed in helmets and leather jackets running up the motorway to go and visit your family.

Lastly, I apologize for doing this without consulting you – but I feel that you would have left Victoria here under her cover to prevent offending my sensibilities by taking her home. That is the last thing I would have wanted, and Michael as well.

Your obedient servant, Tirion.


While he was reading Victoria had come to rest, motor idling nearly imperceptibly. The transport driver exited the driver’s seat and walked into the trailer quickly, emerging with Victoria’s cover neatly folded. Walking to the boot he put the cover in, then walked to Ari with a clipboard of papers which she signed with a flourish.

Al refolded the letter and fixed his majordomo with a glare. “And what possessed you to do this without consulting me?”

She looked calmly back into his eyes. “What possessed me was what your housekeeper there said to me. She said you and your wife would leave the poor thing sitting there all maintained and washed and polished but only take it out the few times you were there – a four-wheeled monument to your friend the Wing Commander as she phrased it.

“This is the last thing she wanted. If you’re gonna yell, yell at me, Al – but I agree with her. It’s beautiful, but it’ll do nothing but rot no matter what you do for it.

“Here, I can see Mrs. Alexander driving it most of the Summer, and putting it up here in the cold weather to protect it from the salt. She’s got her daily driver Bentley for the rest of the time.

“It’d be like leaving Clara locked up in a garage all the time and only taking it out on sunny, bright days for a show once or twice a year. You’ve said it to me – ‘if you own it and don’t drive it – what’s the point?’ “

As she spoke the glare faded, replaced with a thoughtful stance. Finally he spoke, his words measured and calm.

“While I agree with you that the old girl needed to be here, I dislike the fact that you and Tirion did so behind my back. Don’t do that again. I am quite serious. People doing things for me ‘in my best interest’ unless part of your normal mandate or in an emergency situation is a very good way to find yourself unemployed if it happens again. Am I understood?”

Ari accepted the rebuke calmly. “Understood. I get it, believe me. However, Miss Tirion made a very good point or two. Bottom line though - well understood. I won’t do it again.”

Al nodded. “Now, this leaves me with a dilemma. Rosalynd still thinks that Victoria is in England neatly tucked away in her stall.” He smiled and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I need to call Edward to make space in the garage – then I think that Victoria and I are going to surprise Lady Alexander.”


FIN.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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