Full Disclosure

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Just Old Al
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Re: Full Disclosure

Post by Just Old Al »

Chapter 21:

The scene in the house was almost anticlimactic. Small, shabby and frowsy, dim in the light from the uncovered windows at the near and far ends it was depressingly nondescript. The floor was worn linoleum, the walls badly overdue for a coat of paint and scarred with the marks of decoration hastily removed.

To the right was a jog, with a door in the end of it. The other end of the jog showed a landing connected to a flight of stairs to the second floor. To the left was a cooker, sink and prefabricated countertop, with a few cabinets above it.

“This…is all of it?”

“Not all. Come with me.” Al walked toward the stairs, and Rosalynd followed. Ushering her ahead he followed, as both of them came out to the landing of the second floor. A narrow corridor led to two rooms.

Looking in Rosalynd noted the exposed wiring mounted on the surface, and the same air of depression. The back room was the larger of the two, and seemed from the crayon marks on the walls to have been a children’s room.

Another flight of stairs led to an attic room. Tiny, stuffy and dark it was nearly airless, yet still showed signs of occupation.

They descended to the ground floor, through the door and into the basement room. Dark like the attic but cooler it showed a small cut off room. Al opened the door to show a tub, sink and toilet, rusty and chipped.

“This is luxury. The house would have had none of this – the running water above, the bog and bath or the electrical wiring. Notice that was on the surface?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.” More than that Rosalynd was incapable of saying. And I thought the neighborhood was hell.

Walking back upstairs, Al stood in the centre of the room. Holding his hands out he said, simply, “This is it. Welcome to…me.”

“This is not you, you ass. Tell me the story. Tell me all of it.” Rosalynd was not going to let this go with dumb show of a small, pathetically shabby house. “Damnit, I have not seen all of this and come all this way to not hear it. Now fucking TALK.”

“I will, dear. You would not have understood what I have to say had you not seen this first.” Saying that, Al turned away and stared out the window, as if afraid to watch Rosalynd’s face as he spoke.

“This house is luxurious compared to the one I was raised in. No electrical power past the first floor, and the toilet was reached from outside the house. Bathing was in a tub by the kitchen and happened only weekly – otherwise was too much work.”

“There were five of us – Mum, Da, my two brothers and me.”

“Brothers – you have brothers?” Rosalynd was incredulous.

“No, dear, sadly I no longer do. They were older than I by several years and have gone behind the Veil long ago. I found out only incidentally – I did not go looking for them or their families, wherever they may be. I would be no one to them but a genetic relative, and it made no sense. Now, please don’t interrupt. This is difficult enough for me to do.”

He began again. “As I said, there were five of us. Mum kept the house such as it was, and Da worked when he could find someone stupid enough to hire him. What he was was a functioning alcoholic and I believe she was as well, and while there may not have been money for food sometimes, there was always money for beer.

“My brothers worked from when they were old enough to – 15 or so I expect. That money came into the house and went to alcohol more often than not I suspect. I don’t remember ever seeing good times or any sign of prosperity.

“My brothers left when they could – one to the services and the other to parts unknown – just packed what he had and left. This is when I wasn’t even a teenager.”

Al shook his head, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Rosalynd was frozen in place by his revelations.

“With them gone things got worse. I was essentially alone despite the two adults in the house. No one really cared where I went or what I did, as long as the truant officer did not appear at the door. This meant that I had to go to school.

“This in and of itself was not pleasant, or an escape. Small, dirty, hand me down clothes and holed shoes I stood out even in this neighborhood. Combine that with being a loner and I am sure I don’t have to detail the issues I faced. Defending yourself is not simple when the vermin run in packs for mutual support.

“This is why, at 15, I’d finally had enough. I knew I needed to go, so I packed what I had and simply stole away. The recruiters didn’t look too close, even though I nearly didn’t qualify for being too small.

“The Army gave me food, a place to sleep, a purpose and a family, so to speak. I gave them my loyalty and my…love. And as they say, the rest is history. This is the only time I’ve ever been back, and is the last time I will be here. This is dead and done, and all of the characters save me behind the Veil.”

He again held out his hands, and let them drop to his sides.

“So, this…is the old man you love. After hearing this, I am sure you understand why I-“

“Shut up, Al. Just…shutthefuckup. This” she said, as she waved her hand around the barren room “is a lot to take in. Give me a little time to digest this shit sandwich.”

Al kept his silence. Taking Rosalynd’s arm he walked her out of the tired, sad little house, locking the door behind them.

The walk back to the Peugeot was done in silence. Rosalynd said nothing, and Al began to get concerned. Despite her assurances the sight of his boyhood was a lot to take, and the realities of his life and escape grisly at best.

Reaching the car he handed her into the passenger’s seat and then went to return the key and thank the realtor for allowing them to look at the property. Returning, he saw Rosalynd hasn’t moved, and his concern ratcheted up a notch or three.

Climbing in Al headed the car out of the area, and turned to his wife. “I thought we’d go back to Halifax, love, and have a late lunch, then do some shopping. Or would you prefer a lie down?”

“Halifax, please. I need to lie down for a little while.” she said, and stared out the windshield, unseeing of the traffic around them.

Driving, Al began to panic inside. While he kept his outward visage calm, he could feel her emotional turmoil and kept tranquil to avoid feeding it. He tried to send calm to her, but it didn’t seem to be working.

Then the thought came to him – she couldn’t handle his background. A wave of utter despair flooded him, and it was all he could do to keep from broadcasting it to his wife, for fear of pushing her over the edge.

Soon they reached the B&B, and Rosalynd got out of the car and walked inside. By the time Al parked the car and returned the keys to Geoff she was upstairs in their room, and the shades were drawn.

She huddled in the bed, curled up on her side. Al tiptoed into the room and undressed, sliding in next to her. Putting a gentle hand on her back he felt her start and drew his hand away.

The despair returned, and he lay on his side of the bed. He didn’t know what to do.

She spoke, her voice low. “Al?”

“Yes, Rosalynd. I’m here. Do you want me to leave?”

“No. Please hold me.”

Al rolled to her side, holding her tightly, chest pressed to her back there in the bed.

“Al, I need an answer. Was what you told me a lie?”

He didn’t understand. Lie? Why in the names of all the Gods would I make up a story that dismal?

“No, love. Every word is as true as I remember it. A detail or two may be wrong, but by the Gods I worship it is all true.” It’s done, then. Next will be a request to be driven to the airport – she’ll ‘want to go home’.

She turned in his arms, facing him. “All true?” she asked again.

“All true.”

“How many years have you worried about this with me?” What?

“Since the DeLorean. Before, actually, as I seriously thought to walk away after Pillsbury…but I couldn’t do it.”

“So, you’ve come out of a horror show and raised yourself by your own bootstraps – first to senior command in the Army, then in the real world. You at your age stood between ultimate evil and my family, firmly ready and willing to give your life up before you let that eldritch horror survive.”

“All this time this has been eating your heart out – the scenes you shared with me back in that horrible little house. All I saw there, all I heard. All the horrors, bottled up till now.’

As she spoke Als spirits sank lower and lower. He was waiting for the dismissal, for the ‘thank you, you can go now.’

She sat up, looked down at him, drew back and slapped him across the face.

“WHAT THE FLYING FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU! HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU LET THIS FESTER ALL OF THESE YEARS? ALL THE NIGHTMARES, ALL THE PAIN, ALL THE FEAR…WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

Al held a hand to his face – that strike had HURT. “ROSALYND, Be QUIET!” Al hissed. “Geoff is about. This is MOST unseemly!”

“I HAVE SAID IT BEFORE AND I’LL SAY IT AGAIN! FUCK YOU AND YOUR PROPRIETIES UP THE ARSE WITH A RAILROAD FLARE!”
Al grabbed Rosalynd and pushed her down, holding her arms lest she strike at him again.

“How could I possibly know how you’d react! Rich, powerful, successful and you’d married yourself to a useless street rat from the worst slum possible. OF COURSE I KEPT MUM! I was a useless street rat – what is my life compared to yours?”

She looked up at him. “You stupid bastard. You fucking, miserable, stupid bastard. I don’t EVER want to hear you talk like that again.

“Your willingness to stand between Hell on earth and a bunch of Goddamned people you had NO reason to care about – this was long before we started fucking” and Al winced at the crudity “is WHO AND WHAT YOU ARE…YOU FUCKING IDIOT.”

“The fact that you came from where you did means NOTHING. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING EXCEPT ONE THING.”

“And that would be what?” Al asked. His face was smarting, but other emotions were beginning to overcome the pain and shock.

“That the most beautiful flower can rise from the worst pile of shit. You succeeded in spite of the handicaps against you, and your character came through. You could have turned bad anywhere – become your parents or worse. A murderer – rapist, thief….but no.

“You dug yourself out of the shit with your own hands and heart. You became a respected leader-trusted, smart, tough – and then long after you retired old and hurt – went BACK INTO BATTLE for a bunch of fucking strangers.”

“Sir Galahad I said and Sir Galahad I meant, asshole.”

She started to speak again, and Al covered her mouth with his. Their tongues met, entwined passionately and withdrew. Al raised his head and said, “You hit me and made me feel bad – now you’re going to make me feel better.”

“What makes you think so, stranger?” she said, archly.

“Cause I say so.” And he kissed her again, hard.
"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 22:

The next morning the light shone in the window as Al rolled over, blearily checking the bedside clock.

Seven! Gods’ I’ve overslept. Thinking about the reasons behind his tardiness and the pleasant lassitude he felt he smiled, and snuck out of bed to the bathroom. Ablutions took little time and he left the bath feeling a new man – in more ways than one.

Rosalynd still loved him, and the ghosts of the past no longer held him. There was a quiet spot in his soul, now, that had once been filled with fear. No more – it was empty, clean and purged of the fear that dwelt there through the years.

Dressed in his exercise clothes he tiptoed out and down to the buffet. A few folks were wandering around, none of them looking any more conscious than he did. Geoff presided over the breakfast room, bluff and genial as always.

“Good morning Al. Did you and …your lady have a comfortable night?” Approaching closer he asked, sotto voce “Everything all right?”

“Couldn’t be better. Had a bit of a rough patch yesterday, but things are now…amazingly good.” Al smiled, and Geoff understood perfectly.

Geoff said, “Good on you. Good on Lady Alexander as well. You two are made for each other. Coffee?”

“Ah, you have discovered my nefarious plot. Let me grab a cup or two and I’ll be on my way.”

“Ah – not quite yet.” Geoff reached into the server and extracted a small tray. On that he placed two cups, a table carafe and table sugar and cream pots. A plate joined them and this received a selection of pastries. “Settle in – breakfast when you want it. I’ll be here all morning, so if you decide to settle in a bit no problem.”

Touched by the kindness of his gesture Al mumbled his thanks and headed back upstairs with his prize. Setting the tray on the table in their room Al poured two cups of coffee, then set the tray and her mug on the bedstand, wisely leaving the carafe on the table.

One eye opened, focused on the tray, and groped for the cup. Abandoning the attempt Rosalynd sat up and spotted the tray of pastries along with her cup. Claiming one and the cup, she sat back and enjoyed her impromptu breakfast.

“Breakfast in bed, no less, AND coffee. I need to make you feel better more often.” She smiled a catlike smile at him and as always his heart was lost.

“After yesterday I could do no less. I feel as if a great weight has been lifted from my heart. I have no idea how-“

She laid a finger over his lips, and then drew his mouth to hers. A long, lingering kiss, then she pulled away and spoke. “Love, we need to sit down and talk about this. You need to purge this as best you can – and talking over breakfast is not it. When we get home, or earlier of you want to, we can sit and talk, but not like this. That’s serious business, and right now I feel too good for serious business.” Resuming her cup and breakfast she nibbled and sipped, then thought a moment and smiled.

Setting her cup and the remains of her pastry down she stretched backward, a long, sensual motion that set Al’s pulse hammering.

“I don’t need coffee now – that was well enough to stimulate me. I do need to talk to you about our business, though.”

She took up her coffee again, popped the last bite of pastry in her mouth and swallowed. “Hit me.”

“There is one more place I want to go before we leave – a place I would like you to see.”

Rosalynd looked wary. “This isn’t going to be like yesterday, is it? Not complaining, just asking. That took a lot out of you.” Unspoken was the emotional roller coaster both of them had ridden. This was an experience Rosalynd wouldn’t mind repeating in oh, a century or so…but not before.

“No, dear. This will be considerably more pleasant. I assure you, after yesterday I feel no more need to revisit that particularly toxic swamp.

“Actually, I want to take a ride up a bit North of Leeds and visit Long Keep Farm. I had family on my mother’s side that used to take me in on occasion. I remember them well.”

“Let me guess – that was likely the only thing you regret leaving behind when you did?”

Al nodded, and took a sip from his cup to hide the pained expression on his face. “Spot on. I just wanted to look at the place again if we can find it. It’s probably a trading estate or housing by now – I have no illusions that they’re still here but I’d like to see the sight again.”

Rosalynd nodded, snagging another pastry. “You want one of these before I eat ‘em all? For some damn reason I’m starving.”

“Being as neither of us had a proper lunch or dinner yesterday I have no doubt. That being said Geoff says breakfast is whenever we want it.”

“Good. Let’s settle this, then we can get moving. I need a shower, but that’ll only be a few minutes. Where are we going?”

“From here, about an hour North. I’ll need to do a bit of poking about, but it’s in a little village up that way named Ripon. Once I get up there we’ll have to have a wander about, but I should be able to lay the first shot close.

“Are you in any particular hurry to do anything else? Reason I ask is we have two ways to go – the A-roads, or the motorway. The motorway would be nominally shorter by 20 minutes or so, but considerably less scenic. If I recall the maps correctly we’ll be running through Nidderdale as part of it, and the whole thing is just more relaxed.”

“Sounds good. Probably better for Victoria as well, not whipping her down the highway. True?”

“She is not incapable of handling the motorway, but yes, it’s better. That stately old lady is designed for leisurely driving and not being flogged at 80.”

“Great. Sold! Let me get ready.” She drained her cup, hopped out of bed and headed for the bath, clothing hitting the floor as she went.

A few hours later they walked out to the Bentley. Rosalynd was dressed for the country, in chinos, boots, a wooly jumper and Barbour coat. Al was much the same, both of them looking a bit out of place with the elegant limousine.

Al walked up, opened the passenger door at the front and climbed in, to Rosalynd’s amazement.

“Al, whatthehell? You forget where the steering wheel is?”

“No, my dear. I am feeling the need for a chauffeur today – a gorgeous, redheaded one with a lovely décolletage and very loose buttons on her blouse.” Al was feeling particularly cheeky, and decided that sowing a little mayhem was a wonderful use of the morning.

“Well, being as I’m wearing a sweater and not a blouse that might be a bit of a problem, but if you like I’ll go change…” she said, then laughed. “Plenty of time for that later, and if we can find a quiet place to park…perhaps sooner.”

“OOOooo…cheeky. Perhaps I should drive…might be too exciting for you.”

“Forget it, buster. You made the mistake. MINE.” With that she walked around the car and slid into the driver’s seat. Key in, a touch on the starter button lit off the silky-smooth six-cylinder engine. “Ohhhhh, that sounds nice…” Rosalynd said, and Al realized his wife’s heart had been stolen by a rival – the Bentley.

“So tell – where am I going?”

“For that we will use the Map Oracle…hello Google.” Extracting his phone from his pocket Al plunked it on the beanbag holder on the car’s dashboard and tapped Go.

“Do remember, dear, here they drive on the left…please don’t kill us.”

“Who, me? Would I do that?” she said, sliding the transmission into drive and pressing the accelerator. The Bentley swung out of the carpark and onto the path, and then to the road.
"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

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Chapter 23:

“All right – turn left here.”

“But the map says-“

“Bugger the map – this looks familiar.” Al looked ahead at the road, squinting slightly and trying to read the contours against a faded memory.

The Bentley moved down the country road slowly. As the turn grew closer Al said “Yes, yes….Nutwith Road. Good. Down there.”

“All right – if you say so. I still think you’re stoned – the map-“

“Sod the map. Have you ever known me to be wrong?”

Rosalynd brayed laughter. “Jesus, old man, don’t make me do that when I’m driving. Okay, we’ll follow your lead. If you get this thing stuck I’m setting up a lawn chair to watch you dig it out.”

The car continued. “RIGHT! RIGHT!” Al shouted at a sign marked ‘Ilton Bank’.

“This road gets much narrower you’re gonna have to get out there with a machete and knock back the shrubbery. You’d better hope to God we don’t run across anything coming the other way or we’re in deep shit.” Rosalynd grumbled. The big car was a handful in open country, and this narrow road was difficult at best.

“No matter, love. We’re here. Turn down this track.”

Rosalynd swung the big car into the track and continued. As they left the road and motored slowly down the track the shrubbery opened out and Rosalynd stopped.

“My God, Al. This is…gorgeous. Now I know why you wanted to come back.”

The vista spread below them from the farm track. Situated on a hill, the positioning of the farm buildings took full advantage of the sunshine and the views despite the small windows typical of northern buildings.

Below them spread the vista of the Yorkshire Dales. The neatly segmented fields intertwined with roads and the occasional beck stood below them, nearly glowing in the mottled sunshine. The shadows of the clouds drifted across the scenery, adding a three-dimensional feel to the light that was almost impressionistic in its artistry.

Rosalynd started again and pulled into the farm yard. As they did, a pair of boisterous collies bounded out of the stone barn toward the car, running around it and barking madly.

With the barking, a sturdy woman in jeans and a checked shirt stepped out of the house, somewhat nonplussed at the sight of the stately limousine. With a shout from her the collies subsided and returned to the barn, having established their dominance over the Bentley. Al opened his door and walked over to her.

“Ow do. If ye be lookin’ for the tourist cottages they’re ‘alf mile further down Nutwith Road.” the woman said, not unfriendly but obviously mistaking them for tourists.

“No, ma’am, we’re not. Please let me introduce myself – I’m Al Richer. Is this Long Keep Farm?”

“Aye, ‘tis. Why d’ye ask?”

Al seemed almost embarrassed. “A very long time ago, I was here during the Summer for a few years. The Whyte family took me in then. I am sincerely sorry to bother you, ma’am – it was foolish to come here but I wanted to show my wife the beauty of the place.”

The woman’s demeanor softened. “Aye, well chuffed of the sight we are. ‘Ee ba gum, ‘tis a grand thing to see of a mornin’.”

“Would you mind if my wife and I walked about a bit? I do sincerely apologize for this, but my wife has never seen the Dales – and I’m trying to show her a bit of it before we need to go home.”

The woman said nothing, and Al thought that they were about to be politely but firmly turned away. However, he’d forgotten the friendliness of northerners, especially farm folk.

“Aye, ‘ave a gander about as much as ye like. When yer done, knock me up on t’ kitchen door and I’ll put t’ kettle on.”

Touched, Al tried to demur. “We don’t want to put you to any trouble. We’ll just have a bit of a walk about – I wanted my wife to see the place – and we’ll be on our way, Please, don’t bother about us.”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “’Tis nowt. When yer done faffin’ about come in for a cuppa. ‘Praps I can tell ye of yer friends.”

***

An hour later they were at the door of the farmhouse kitchen. Warm, cozy, with a huge range to one side, it reminded Al of the kitchen back at Arabsque – a comfortable place to spend time, not just a place to cook.

The lady of the house looked disapprovingly at their muddy footwear. “Clarty boots. Had ye no wellies?”

“No, ma’am – we did not.”

“Well, ‘ave yer boots off there on the bench and set ‘em aside – you’ll no wear ‘em in my kitchen.” Meekly Al and Rosalynd did as they were told – and in stocking feet settled in at the huge kitchen table.

With that she set the kettle to boil and prepared a teapot. A packet of biscuits also made an appearance, to Al’s delight and Rosalynd’s eye-roll at her husband’s avarice for sweets.

“So, Ma’am – how long have you and yours owned the farm?”

“Oh, we were ‘ere when t’ gaffer Whyte owned it – worked for ‘im we did the last few years. ‘E weren’t well – ‘is ‘eart were paggered. That’s when ‘e and ‘is lad Hew decided to sell up and move.”

“Hew? Hew was still here?” Al suddenly looked interested, and leaned forward.

“Aye. ‘E ran t’ place for t’ gaffer. When they sold out ‘e and ‘is wife took t’ gaffer to live with them. Lovely lass she were – City girl what took ta farm life like she’s born t’it.”

“Interesting. Do you know where they went?” Al took his notebook from his pocket and began to take notes.

“Na. Ah ken they went somewhere south – t’were for the old gaffer’s ‘eart. Bit parky ‘ere for ‘im in t’ winter.”

Shuffling noises came from the door to the main room and a gravelly, quavering voice said “T’were Loughborough. I remember. T’was Hew told me when they flit from ‘ere.” At this, an old man entered the room. He moved with difficulty – a cane supported him as he walked. His carpet slippered feet shuffled on the flagstone floor of the farm kitchen.

Al immediately rose and pulled out his chair. “Please, sir, take my seat.”

“Nay, lad – sit. I’ve me spot.” With that the elderly gentleman shuffled to the head of the table and settled there, occupying his place as the scion of the family.

“Now Da – ye know ye’re not t’be up till t’ doctor says ye can.” Emma went to her father, concerned for him.

“Emma, stop faffin’ about – I be fine.” The old man turned to the visitors at the table and rasped, “Now, lad, why are ye wantin’ to find Hew?”

Amused as he may have been being called ‘lad’, Al let none of this show on his face. “Sir, when I was a boy I spent time here on the farm with the Whytes. They’re my mother’s people, and Hew was a friend as well as my cousin.

“If I can find them I’d like to – just to find out what happened to them. I…have been away for many years – nearly a half-century.”

The old man stared into Al’s face hard for a moment and Al swore he could hear the old man in his mind. Then, he turned away and spoke to his daughter.

“Emma, t’wooden box on t’chest in ma room. Fetch it, please.”

Emma hurried off, returning a moment later with a wooden chest, polished smooth by decades of use. The old man opened it and poked in it for a moment, removing and replacing pieces of paper after squinting at them.

Pulling out an envelope, the old man handed it to Al. “When t’gaffer passed on, Hew wrote us a letter t’tell us. Look at it. T’address is where they flit.”

Al hurriedly scribbled down the address and noted the date on the franking. “Thank you, sir – this is a wonderful lead.” He went to hand the envelope back, and the old man waved it away. “Nay, lad – ‘tis owt to help ye find ye kin.” He looked to his daughter, and said ‘I’m knackered, Emma. Can ye help me t’me room?”

“Aye, Da.” She stood and helped the old man to his feet, helping him from the kitchen.

In the silence, Rosalynd looked at Al. “Is it me, or did you just get a hint to your surviving relatives?”

“Amazingly, yes – it seems that I did.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Good question.”

A moment later she returned, a bit flustered and out of breath from helping her father back to bed. Sitting back down at the table she had a sip from her cup, then spoke.

“Aye, ‘tis a rare day when Da comes out to see a visitor. E’s a grumpy old git – does na like people. Been a farmer too long – e’s got the quiet in ‘is soul.”

“Please thank him for me – that was a marvelous bit of luck finding an address for them even as old as it is.” The franking on the letter had told the tale – the letter was a good fifteen years old, and Hew and his wife could have been long gone from there.

“Aye, t’was nobbut good luck ye came when ‘e were in a good place. ‘Ad ‘e been sprottly e’d not ‘ave come out.”

Later, in the car Rosalynd looked at him. “So – where to?” She had resumed her position behind the wheel and Al was feeling a bit jealous of the lesbian relationship his wife was having with his car.

“That…is a very, very good question. Back to Halifax for the moment, and I owe you a shopping day tomorrow either there or in York for the dragging-about I’ve done to you over the past day or two.”

Putting the Bentley in gear Rosalynd headed back out. Al said no more as he sat and thought. The music of the radio and the muttering of the phone satnav barely penetrated his consciousness.

Rosalynd noted his absorption and wondered at it. Admittedly, finding traces of some of his family was a bolt from the blue and would require some consideration.

“Penny for your thoughts. “Rosalynd said. Al started a bit, interrupting the brown study he’d sunk into.

“I’d be overcharging you.” Al replied, and began to sink back into his thoughts.

“Al, where are you? Something has you occupied – and how! What it it, love?”

“I am…conflicted. Now, with the shade of my past laid to rest I’m free of my family and all it was. Now, an opportunity has come down like a gift from the Gods – a slim one, admittedly – to reconnect with the parts of my family that I missed – and I don’t know what to do with it.

“I could ignore it – they’d never miss me and to be perfectly honest nor I them after all these years. As I said, though – this sounds like a gift from my Gods - and those are never ignored without dire consequences.

“I am not troubled, love – just a bit bemused. Hew wouldn’t know me from Adam’s off ox even if he’s still this side of the Veil – and nearly certainly his brothers are not. This might well be my last chance to see people of my own blood – and I’m not sure I can ignore it.”

Rosalynd nodded. Get him thinking and explaining and the rubber-duck diagnosis kicks in and bingo – problem solved.

“Love, can I express an opinion?” Rosalynd asked, a bit diffidently.

“Please. You, love, have far more horse sense than I do – pun intended.”

She snickered, than continued. “To be honest, this will be another set of regrets if you don’t try. Yes, they may not know you and you may not know them – but meeting Hew and his wife if they’re still with us isn’t an opportunity you should turn down.

“You came all the way up here to the Dales to see this place again – this has to say something about what you felt for this place and these people. Now, your Gods throw a lead in your lap, along with the transport and the time to pursue it. How can you NOT do it?”

Al nodded decisively. “When you are right, you are right. Now, I need to make a phone call.” Al pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed a speed-dial.
"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 24:

”Director Oduya’s Office”

“This is Al Richer calling for Director Oduya on a matter of some importance. I realize that it is late there – but could you ask her if she would accept a call from me?”

’Please hold, Al. I’m sure she will, but let me ask.”

“Brandi?”

“Yes, dear. I am going to call in a marker or two. Our dear MIB Director is going to regret having blithely said “We owe you” those times, I have no doubt.”

The phone clicked, and Brandi’s smoky voice came out of the speaker. “Al, it’s after ten here – what’s up?

“Brandi, I need a favour. I hate to say this, but I’m calling in a marker.”

“Ohboy. I thought you were still in England.” Her voice paused, and continued on a more somber note. “I heard you had to go over there. My sincere condolences on your friend’s passing. Is that what this is about?”

“Only peripherally. I’ve gotten a lead on what may be my only surviving relatives – and I need MIB to do some digging for me.”

Brandi answered, her voice dubious. ”You do realize that’s illegal, right? I can’t go poking around in records without some reason to.”

“Brandi, luv…these are as far as I know my only surviving kin. People I’ve not seen in a half-century. I would much rather not have to wait till I am behind the Veil to see them again if I can avoid it.

“Anyway, I am not asking you to delve into banking records or anything like that. Let me give you the address” and Al pulled the letter from his pocket, reading off the address and the date from the franking. “All I want here is a chance to say hello – and goodbye again.”

”I can’t say this is right, Al. With European data privacy laws this is flat-out illegal – but in this instance I am not going to look too close. All right – so what do you want?”

“That is the last known address for my cousin Hew Whyte. If you can get me a current address, or come as close as possible I would sincerely appreciate it.”

”Normally as this is family I’d fire Glytch at this – but he’s earlobes-deep in another Lanthian particle physics snipe hunt. Not sure what’s going to come out of it but he’s having fun – and I’d hate to interrupt him. Would you mind of this went through my regular researchers? Same quality, just a little slower.”

“Brandi, luv – spot on. If our young genius is busy let him be – that’s just fine. Rosalynd and I are enjoying our time here and aren’t particularly limited, so that is entirely acceptable.”

”If you’re willing to tolerate my staff, I’m fine with that. Let me give them this now, and I’ll see what they turn up. Hopefully I’ll have something for you in the next day or so – is that good enough?”

“Absolutely spot-on, ducks. Thank you – I realize that this is not exactly good practice.”

”Al, for you – no problem. Talk to you soon.” With that the connection closed, and Al put his phone away.

From the driver’s position Rosalynd nodded approvingly. “When you want something you go get it. Damn, Two-Legs – I like your style.”

“There is no reason for us to go haring about all over the countryside trying to track Hew down when a phone call can get us the data. Were that not the case we’d likely go home and I’d conduct the search from there – I still have some resources here I could use. However…this will get results. I have confidence in Brandi.”

As they motored down toward Halifax Al asked, “Is there anything you would like to do or see? Brandi has said a day or more for data on the search, so we’re at loose ends for at least that.”

Rosalynd, busy behind the wheel, held her peace as she dodged a suicidal MG. Returning to her lane she paused still, then spoke. “Al, the problem is I don’t know what to ask for. You know this country – hell, you were born and raised here. Ah’m jest a pore leetle girl from Louville a-drivin this here faincy car…”

Al stared for a moment then burst into laughter. “Oh, you poor colonial…I did forget. Tell you what, then – let’s go into York tomorrow. The Minster is a fine sight, and I did promise you could walk along a Roman road. There are some Roman artifacts, and much archaeological to see.”

“How’s the shopping?”

“Ah, always the materialist. The shopping is superb – the stores there have everything you could possibly want and more. If it’s still there – and I can ask – there’s an area of small shops, pubs and such that’s in one of the older districts twisty streets and all. It’s quite nice from what I remember of it.”

“Materialist my hairy hindquarters, Two-Legs. One of the things you said is I’m going to need more wardrobe than these clothes and to be honest I want to do it. I am really starting to like these clothes – and these boots are so damn comfortable.

“If I’m gonna be ‘Lady Alexander’ and we’re going to be here more often I am NOT going to look like some damn rube from the sticks. With Tirion’s help maybe she can make a proper Lady out of me.”

Al looked over from his vantage point in the passenger’s seat. Trim leather-clad calves, tan chinos and a fine cable-knit sweater, as always topped by the centaur pendant Sterling had gifted her with a few Yules back. Al, as always, marveled at her love for him, but was no longer uncertain – she truly loved him even knowing all of him.

Al sighed, happily, and let his eyes rest on his bride.

“I know that look. You’re going to suggest we stop at Field House for a nap and we’ll spend the rest of the damn evening in the sack. While I normally wouldn’t argue, I want to go out.

“What’s a pub quiz? I heard somebody talking about them at one of our fuel stops.”

Al laughed. “A pub quiz is exactly what you think it is – a bunch of semi-inebriated barflies trying to answer questions on UK television, sport and other such things. You and I would have little to no chance of success at one.”

“Two-legs, you are such a stick in the mud. I want to go spend some time in a pub. I’ve always heard that pubs are the center of a village or a town. The only time I’ve been in a real pub is for Michael’s reception – and that just wasn’t the same.

“Can we go to a pub tonight for dinner? Please?”

Al grimaced a bit, then spoke. “There’s one just where we turn in to go to Field House. I am told by Geoff that that one’s got a pub quiz, but it was a few nights ago. My concern is that finding you something to eat may be difficult.”

“Understood. I have to say, though, that I could make do with a cheese pizza or a plate of fries or something if need be. I need to get a feel for reality – and our last visit made me figure it out.”

“Figure what out, dear?” Al added, though he knew where she was going – or was pretty sure at least.

“Let me lay it out for you” she said, splitting her attention between the road and the conversation. “I have this title. At home it’s kind of a family joke, and no one there pays attention to it.”

Al interrupted. “Worse than that – there it’s not legal plain and simple – being considered a vassal of another government – the Crown.”

Rosalynd nodded, accepting the point. “That I knew – the company lawyers told me that when Rock passed on and I was invested. HERE, it’s for-real. Tirion at Arabesque, Geoff at Field House….they’ve made me realize that to be honest I’m kind of stupid about this whole thing.

“I may have it, but to be honest I don’t understand it or what the whole thing is about. More the point, while I may be a Lady, I know squat about the people who I’m supposed to be better than – and that thought is absolute minotaur shit as we both know.

“Bottom line – I want to get out and about and meet some real people in a real setting – and a pub seems like a good thought. Opinions?”

Al chuckled – he’d been expecting this. “Ducks, I understand exactly what you’re saying. I’m not sure you or Rock, rest his soul, really understand what a peerage is all about. This is going to take a bit of study, but that is for a series of cold winter nights at Alexander House.

“I do agree, however, that you need to get to know the folk of my little island here. As you’ve seen they’re all different, from a stockbroker in the Smoke or the engineers at AHI Runnymeade to the folks we just left. They’re wonderful, beautiful people all – and all as different as it can get. Americans are a trifle more homogenous, and all well aware that they’re emigrants from somewhere a generation or two back.

“Let’s head back to Field House, and while I would love a ‘nap’, no, that is not my intent. Let me talk to Geoff about a good pub in Halifax and we’ll go spend the evening in the bar and have dinner. How’s that sound?”

“Fantastic! How should I dress?”

“Anything will be fine, but if you go as you are you’ll be marked down as one of the ‘horsey set’, which may or may not get you an in depending on where we go. Let’s see what Geoff has to say.”
"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 25:

“A pub? Lady Alexander wants to go to a pub? Whatever for?” Geoff was bemused and had no trouble expressing it.

Al recapped the discussion that he and Rosalynd had had in the car, emphasizing the wish of his bride to get to meet ‘real people’ as opposed to the boring sameness of industrial types that she’d gotten to meet as the head of AHI.

“In short, she’s realized that that title she got saddled with actually MEANS something here. The way our caretaker in Fen Ditton reacted, the way you reacted to her title…it’s gotten to her and she’s determined to rectify her shortcomings.”

“What about your reactions to her title?” Geoff snickered a bit, and realized that the play he and Rosalynd had been engaging in had been a bit more evident than he’d realized.

“She had me outclassed long before I found out she was a member of the peerage, mate. I’m just an old soldier who found a beautiful, wonderful woman stupid enough to fall in love with and marry him.”

Geoff applauded quietly. “And more power to both of you. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – you and she are made for each other. Now, pubs….

“Someplace that has some kind of a vegetarian menu I expect?”

“Actually, she’s willing to forego the cuisine for a ‘real’ pub. So no posh dining calling itself a pub, but a real honest local. She drinks even though I don’t, and a few whiskies sitting in a pub and watching the world go by is kind of what she has in mind.”

Geoff pursed his lips and thought hard. Finally, with a finger snap and point he said “I have just the place – will answer for good food and for a proper pub. It’s darts night as well if I remember their schedule.

“Place is called the White Horse – it’s outside Halifax in Lightcliffe – just out Leeds Road and nobbut a few minutes away. Place has been there over a century – so it long predates the whole gastropub horror. Good food, cask ales not that you care, and a good selection of whiskies and such. Nice atmosphere and the local yoofs avoid the place because the prices are too high. How’s that sound?”

“Spot-on. Absolutely spot-on. Does the name mean it’s a horsey crowd or just the name?”

“Mixed crowd. Been known to have horses in the garden of a summer afternoon and no one looks twice, but tonight the only ones wearing jodhpurs will be the waitstaff.”

Al nodded. “Sounds a treat. So, just out Leeds Road?”

Geoff hesitated a bit. “Al, can I suggest you borrow the Pug again? I would hate to see that fine lady of yours get damaged by some yobbo who’s had a pint too many. That car is far too nice, and the car park at the Horse is a bit tight.”

“If your generosity extends to it then yes, I will certainly borrow it. Many thanks for the warning as well – my late friend who owned the car would never forgive me if it got damaged because of my carelessness.”


Later in the Peugeot Rosalynd asked, “What exactly do people do in the pub?”

“Drink. Argue. Drink some more. Talk. Play darts. Argue some more.”

“Hell, sounds like the main room at Alexander when Cinnamon’s home.” Then, more diffidently, she asked “Are we gonna fit in?”

“I don’t see why not. The way you’re dressed you’re not obviously a tourist, and I sound nondescript enough to be from anywhere. We’re certainly not local, but not obviously foreign.”

“But-“

“But nothing. Don’t go in telling anyone they’ve done it wrong ‘ ‘cause that’s not the way we do it in Minneapolis!’ and you won’t have an issue. Love, no one there is going to have an issue with two elderly folk having a drink or three and sandwiches or whatever strikes your fancy. Anyway, when have you EVER known me to be wrong?”

She stared at him, beady-eyed, till he started to squirm uncomfortably. “You really need to stop saying that. More often than not things get completely out of hand after you do. It’s almost as bad as ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’”

“Well, really – what’s the worst-“

“Shut UP! Don’t do it. I am NOT in the mood to get into a barfight because you tempt your Gods with that horrible taunt.”

“Yes, dear.”

A few minutes later saw them at the dun-brick building with a rampant white horse on the sign. Turning left Al parked in behind the building, thanking Geoff mentally for the suggestion of using the Peugeot. Stepping out and locking the car, they went to the back door and stepped in.

The saloon bar was lively – singles and couples at the bar and the tables, under the low timbered ceiling. A cheery crackling fire burned on the hearth, and behind the rectangular bar the publican and assistants were busy handing out drinks and snacks.

Rosalynd and Al found a postage-stamp table off to one side, and Al seated Rosalynd so she could see the panorama of the room.

“Damn busy place.” Rosalynd remarked. Al nodded, and added “This is a typical evening on a weekend. Look over on the far side – the darts games are starting up.”

People with drinks were wandering toward the line, pulling cases from their pockets. These contained collapsed darts, with the fletches packed in a separate pouch.

“OOOoooofancy. They bring their own?”

“Oh, yes. People do enjoy their darts. It’s a part of the community – skittles, darts…pub games in general. They’ll drink, and talk, and play games and generally have a good time with their mates and neighbours.”

“What’s up with that dart board? It’s missing a ring.”

Al glanced over at it. “Yes, indeed it is ‘missing a ring’. That board is a Yorkshire dartboard – it’s only got single and double scores on it. The board you’re thinking of is the London or clock pattern board – it’s got single, double and triple scores – moves a game along faster, it does.”

“OK, not understanding this. How’s darts work for scoring? Explain, O minion.”

“Minion, eh? Keep that up, my lady, and you’ll be walking back to Halifax.”

“Shut up with the ‘My Lady’ crap – I don’t want to be outed here. So, ‘splain, Two-legs.”

“It’s simple, actually. The basic game is 501 points – you need to get exactly that, and your first score needs to be a double – in the small ring. Some games force you to begin and end with a double, but the basic game doesn’t usually call that out.

“You take turns and throw three darts at a time, and just continue till someone wins.

“You can get ‘fast’ games of 301 points, or longer games of 1001 points. It all depends on what people feel like playing unless it’s league play – that’s when things get serious and there’s a certain rigour to the play.”

“Looks like fun. What are they doing?” Rosalynd said, peering over towards the far side of the room.

“Shooting for rank. Highest score goes first.”

“Looks like fun.” she said again, almost wistfully.

“So, what do you want to drink, love? I’ll scout up a menu and see what’s available as well – the poor waitress handling tables seems to be going spare.”

“Scotch rocks, with a twist. Thanks…” she mumbled as she watched the players.

Al wandered to the bar and the publican greeted him. “Evening! Welcome – not seen you ‘ere before.”

“No, my wife and I are traveling, and Geoff from Field House recommended we stop in for drinks and dinner.”

“Well then, let me give you a menu and your drinks. Sarah’s busy but she’ll be over in a bit to ask what you want.”

Ordering and paying for their drinks Al took them back to the table. Rosalynd was still watching the players, and Al had an idea.

Passing over the menu, he asked, “What do you think of the place?”

“Seriously? It’s fascinating. Lively, bright, but everyone’s kind of just enjoying themselves and no one’s taking things too seriously.”

Chuckling, Al waved his hand at the room. “There is a reason for that – this is a more upscale place. The local yoof don’t come here for their lager as the music isn’t insanely loud and the women are wearing more than a miniskirt, fishnets and a crop-top – mandatory clubbing wear hereabouts year-round. Places in-town would be considerably less convivial than this – and those are places I would not take you.”

“Let’s decide on something to eat – I think I see the barmaid headed in this direction.”

After ordering, they sat and talked, mostly about the inhabitants.

“You can tell the horsey set – they’re dressed much as you are, though among the younger lot there’s more of a predilection for Spandex. I for one do not understand the purpose of wearing tight pants and a wooly jumper.”

“Oh, shut it. You’re not complaining about the view – please don’t tell me you’re complaining about the view.”

Turning and facing her directly, Al said, “No, I am not. And the loveliest woman in the place came in – and is leaving with – me.”

Blushing as only a readhead can, she batted her eyes at him and said “I wouldn’t count on that – there’s a couple of really good-looking guys over there by the fireplace…”

“Oh, dear. I do hope the waitress comes soon with the food – I would hate to see you on the prowl on an empty stomach. Shall I take notes for Cinnamon to drool over later?”

“No, she can get her own damn men. I am not doing her shopping for her.” She slid her hand across the table and held it out, palm up. Al covered her hand with his and the conversation stopped as each sent love to the other.

Soon after they had to move as their dinner arrived. “Marinated Portobello mushroom panini? Looks good.”

“How’s the burger?”

“Stellar. The chips are just right as well – light and fluffy. Do help yourself – I ordered them for both of us.”

Eating, they continued to watch the room. Couples and singles came and went, and people at the bar chatted and sipped their drinks. The lights were bright, the woodsmoke smell cheering and the whole atmosphere comfortable.

“Another drink, dear?”

“Yes, please. Another Scotch – and see if they have anything better than that last one.”

“Yes, my Lady.” Al bowed and she took a swing at him, laughing. “Shut UP!”

Laughing as well, Al wandered up to the bar. After a minute or two the publican wandered over. “How’s your dinner?”

“Stellar. My wife is a vegetarian, so it was very nice to find good food like the Portobello sandwich on the menu. I do have a question for you, though. Is the darts play tournament or just folks fiddling about?”

“Nothing serious tonight. Once a month it’s league play, but tonight they’re just buggering about. Why – care for a leg or two? I have a set or three spare - I can lend you some.”

“Actually, it’s not me. My wife is American – we’re back here for a visit, and she’s never been in a proper pub – and she’s fascinated by the games.”

The publican nodded, and began to think. “Leave it to me.” he chuckled with a grin, and Al was suddenly disconcerted. “Drinks?”

Wandering back to the table Al had little time to wait. A few minutes later a slim blonde wandered over, all smiles, and spoke to Rosalynd.

“Hi! Saw you watching us – care to have a go?”

Rosalynd looked at her husband with a “What did you do?” look on her face. Al replied with the confused puppy look that all husbands learn early on, and pointed to the young lady.

Realizing she was being rude, Rosalynd turned to the young lady and said, “Can I? I don’t want to mess up your games – Al was telling me about it but if you’re playing a tournament or something don’t let me get in the way. I’m Rosalynd, by the way.”

“Horatia. Do come – we’re just having fun, and you seemed interested. Be nice to see another lady up with us – too many chaps toeing up to the line.”

“Horatia?” Al asked. He was well aware of the name’s origins, but curiousity wouldn’t let the question go unasked.

The young woman smiled prettily. “Yes, Horatia. Da is a classical scholar, and named me ‘supposedly’ after the ruling gens Horatia of ancient Rome. Mother always insisted he’d named me after the snail. That caused some monumental blowups at the dinner table, as you can imagine.”

“Well, dear lady, if he did I daresay you’re the most comely member of the species mollusca I have ever seen. Al Richer, and as she has introduced herself, Rosalynd Richer.”

Horatia laughed, and turned to Rosalynd. “Let’s go. Your gentleman friend can either watch from here or step up after he’s finished his drink.” Facing Al she gave a wink, and Al picked it up perfectly – this was tailored to Rosalynd. Reminding himself to tip the publican heavily he said, “Do go on dear. Just try not to stab the other competitors…it’s considered bad form.”

With a ‘we will discuss this later’ look at her husband Rosalynd got up and left the table with her new acquaintance. Al sat back in his seat and turned toward the line, both to enjoy the show and to keep track of the situation.

Stopping to collect a set of darts from the publican, Horatia and Rosalynd walked up to the group of darts players. Introductions were made, and Rosalynd was presented with the dart case and the basics of the game explained, from what Al made of the hand gestures and pointing.

Finishing his ginger beer, Al walked to the bar again. The publican wandered over grinning, and asked “That suit you?”

“Absolutely perfectly. The set of darts she’s currently borrowed – how expensive are they?”

The publican looked puzzled. “Ten-fifteen quid if that. Why do you ask?”

Al reached to his pocket and pulled out two twenty-pound notes. “Do me the honour of letting her keep them when she’s done. The rest is a donation to the picnic fund for the league – or would more be more appropriate?”

Laughing, the publican waved it away. “If she has a good time I’ll add them to your bill. The other donation is sincerely appreciated but unnecessary – this is not a poor club and Horatia would be offended at the thought of being tipped for her efforts.”

Al nodded – he well understood the thought. “Please do exactly that – spot-on. Now, please let me have another ginger beer – I am going to wander to the bar by the games and watch.”

“Can’t say as I blame you – she’s a handsome woman. Neither are Horatia and her friends hard to look at, for that matter. I would be careful not to add your two penn’orth as the legs are in play, though – there have been cases of perforated spectators.”

“Well understood – and the warning will be taken to heart.” Al collected his ginger beer and went to the bar separating the dart board lanes from the bar proper.

As he wandered over he caught the rest of the rules discussion, and heard Horatia say “…and now why don’t you take a swing or three at the board – as practice. Just for the sake of it, call out the number you’re shooting for – and if it’s regular or double.”

Rosalynd asked, “So, pick a spot, aim for it, and call it? This is like pool…er billiards.”

“Have at, luv. Calling them is just to try for accuracy. After a half-dozen darts most folks can hit the target – but aiming for a spot is the magic.”

“Okay…I’ll try. No laughing at me, though.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t do that, luv. Everyone has to start somewhere – give it a go.”

Stepping to the line of the far-right board, Rosalynd opened the case and extracted one of the brightly-fletched darts. Staring hard at the board she called “Twenty.”

The dart flew, and with a THUNK embedded itself in the 1. Pursing her lips, Rosalynd said, “These are heavier than I expected. Let’s try that again.”

“Five.”

THUNK. The dart stuck just below the double and straight in the 5 wedge of the board.

“Three.”

THUNK. Just above the double, and straight in the single 3.

Horatia looked surprised, and a bit irritated. “You’re having me on. You’ve played – and a lot, I expect.”

Rosalynd held her hand up over her heart. “On my honor I’ve never played darts before. I do shoot target at home with pistol and rifle – maybe that’s it?”

“You shoot? Where’s home, luv?”

“A little town called Maple Grove, Minnesota.” Rosalynd, while being fastidiously truthful, didn‘t mention that the shooting was on a range on her own property.

“Odd, your gent sounds like he’s one of us – I thought you an expat.”

“He is. We married five years or so ago – I was a widow and he never married. He was already in the States – had retired there.”

Horatia looked again at the woman before her. “This…is going to get interesting. She turned to her friends and said “Doubles, then? You two against Ros and I? 1001 point game if we’re playing doubles – just to give it time?”

“Not fair! You’re good, and Ros is an assassin!” This came from one of Horatia’s mates – a pretty brunette with a cheeky, no-nonsense air.

“Oh, VERY well! You and Ros against Phoebe and I then?”

“Sounds fair. Phoebe will drag your average down and we might have a chance!” For that, she collected a venomous look from Phoebe and ducked a swing at the back of her head.

While all of this byplay was going on, Al looked at his wife. Laughing, captivated, she seemed utterly fascinated by the game and the young women she’d fallen in with. Catching her attention he mimed throwing a dart, then held his hands up in an interrogative manner.

Nodding, she thought for a moment, then mouthed the words Plains Animal. Al nodded – that made sense.

A plains animal that was both predator and prey like a centaur would have very good coordination and depth perception. Add that to the long-honed skills of shooting hand and shoulder weapons and that combination would be deadly at darts with a bit of practice.

Al nodded again and sent his wife a wave of love through their bond. She kissed the palm of her hand and blew it toward him, and he caught it.

Returning to his seat at the table, Al thought this is going to be a very interesting evening…. and sat back to watch the games.

As they played, Horatia advised Rosalynd as to best practice, much to the very vocal disgust of her teammate.

“No FAIR! She’s already an assassin – you teach her and they’ll win!” Phoebe complained, after narrowly missing a double shot.

“Feebs, unless you step up they’re going to win anyway, so please do concentrate, luv!” Saying that, Horatia sank a flawless double-twenty, a single and a nineteen with a smug air.

“Oh, FINE – expect us to beat that, then!” Rosalynd remarked loudly. The other ladies laughed, and Rosalynd’s partner stood to the line for her turn.

Time to throw in a few random numbers… Al wandered back to the bar, the publican spotting him on the way and meeting him.

“And what is it ye be wantin’, then?” he asked, genially and nearly laughing.

“Time to give my wife an advantage. A round of drinks to the four lovely ladies, and make the one for my wife your top-shelf scotch, rocks, with a twist of lemon.”

“You’ll be hard-pressed to soften up that lot with liquor, if that’s your thought. None of em’s a lightweight.”

“I have NO intention of softening them up. I know my darling wife – another Scotch will mellow her a bit without affecting her coordination, and allow her to focus on the quarry.”

“Quarry is it, then? And is she the assassin Mabyn was calling her?” Amused, the publican was giving no quarter in this discussion – a bit of byplay Al was enjoying immensely.

“Mate, she can blow the centre out of a target at two hundred yards with my SMLE over and over again – and she is just as good with a pistol at shorter ranges. So, yes…assassin is a word that COULD be used.”

The barman stared at Al for a minute, and then shook his head. “I do believe that that is the exact truth. That being said, and as you said she was using your Enfield, I will not enquire further.”

“Not much to enquire on – she’s a crack shot – which is why, mate, I toe the line very carefully. Let me have another ginger while you’re about it, please…thanks.”

Al was fascinated. After the first leg (Al assumed they were playing best of three legs) Rosalynd and Mabyn were down one game, and Horatia and Phoebe were gloating.

This, however, did not last.

The second leg was hard-fought, with the power hitters on both teams running up the scores with the assistance of their partners. The second game went to Rosalynd and Mabyn, with Rosalynd gloating a trifle at a chagrined Horatia.

“And this is what I get for befriending a tourist! Oh, I just HAD to be nice and invite the nice elderly lady over for a game of darts – what’s the harm? Next time, I know better!” she said, pointing at Rosalynd, who was laughing furiously at the invective.

“So, are you going to sit and talk or are we going to play the tiebreaker?” Rosalynd said. “We have to beat you two – gotta show you how it’s done!”

On hearing this Al winced a trifle, but the others responded in kind with jeers and raspberries. Comments like “colonial” were heaved around with abandon, and the second round of drinks Al sent arrived, causing the participants to call a halt in the fighting to refresh themselves.

The third game began with a vengeance, with Mabyn and Phoebe going first and scoring the needed doubles to begin. Then it turned into a slugging match for double after double from Rosalynd and Horatia.

Slowly the 1001 points was whittled down, until the score sat nearly even. Horatia and Phoebe needed 40 points to win, and Mabyn and Rosalynd 32.

“Hold! All right – who feels like a change-up?” Horatia said.

“What do you have in mind, luv?” Mabyn asked. Rosalynd, unsure how to respond, kept silent.

“Double finish. You have to count out exactly to win – and it has to be a double.”

“What’s that mean?” asked Rosalynd – the wrinkle not quite explaining itself.

“Scores to win are 40 and 32. To win, you lot need a double 16. We need a double 20. We can still chip at it, but that just means the double gets to be a smaller number.”

“So, we – or you – can win with one dart?”

“That’s it, Ros. Think you’ve got the bottle?”

Rosalynd, outwardly calm, said “If Mabyn is on with it I am. Two things – I throw first, and loser buys the next round.”

Al was utterly smitten. While outwardly calm and displaying the panache of her career as a CEO, Rosalynd’s internal state could best be described as ‘squirrel in traffic’.

Cheating be damned… Al thought as he sent waves of love and confidence down their bond. Rosalynd turned to him and blew him a kiss as Phoebe and Horatia consulted with their eyes, and Horatia turned to Rosalynd, hand out, and said “Deal.” They shook, and now the pressure was on.

The line at the dartboards and the surrounding area had gone quiet after the agreement. This heightened the tension – and Rosalynd was the centre of the storm.

Rosalynd stepped to the line with her darts, eyes cold and hard as she calculated the possibilities. She would up and threw.

THOCK!

Single 10.

“22, ducks.” Mabyn said.

THOCK!

Single 20.

“Need a double 1, luv, or we fault and it’s their turn.”

“I know.” She took her last dart, and Al could sense the predator in her as she tensed, wound and threw.

THOCK!

Double 1. 1001 points exactly and a double to close out.

The crowd erupted in applause as she stepped away from the line. Rosalynd grabbed and hugged Mabyn, then Horatia and Phoebe. The other players, games temporarily halted, clamored and shook her hand.

Al sat back quietly in the midst of the emotional maelstrom, enjoying his wife’s triumph as if it were his own – as he could feel her triumph as if it were his own. He poured waves of love down the bond and she returned them redoubled.

Life was good.

Later in the car Rosalynd bubbled, clutching her newly-acquired set of darts and a whisky glass – the glass from the Scotch that Horatia and Phoebe had been obliged to buy. The combination of an evening’s play at darts, a few whiskies and the companionship and acceptance of the people there had left her in an ebullient mood – and chattering like a magpie.

Should I tell her I covered the bar tab for her competitors? No, not tonight…she’s having way too much fun with this.

“…and did you SEE me nail that double 1! Dropped it right in the center of the damn thing – POW! Not too bad for an old broad! After that it was ‘Ante up, girls!’. SCORE!”

“Not bad at all, dear. You did indeed hold up your side remarkably – and those young ladies knew they’d been in a fight after the third leg!” Al replied. Variations on what he’d said before, but he cared little. She’d had a stellar night out, as had he watching her bloom around these folk.

As Al drove and Rosalynd chattered happily and slightly drunkenly the Sergeant-Major analyzed the situation. From being shy and diffident his wife had come out of her shell – utterly comfortable with the places and people around her.

Not many could do as she did – dive into a situation and come out a winner in more ways than one. The darts game was just the crown – the ones she lost later matter nothing at all.

New friends, new situations, and the indomitable Alexander resiliency and ability to rise to the occasion paid off in spades. Now, she IS becoming Lady Alexander – familiar with the people of this place. Time would tell – but he suspected that she would learn to love England as he did.


“Are you listening to me?”

Oh, dear – copped.

“I was thinking about the evening. You went from ‘What do people do in the pub?’ to diving in, making friends, learning to play darts and having a wonderful time there. I am thoroughly proud of you, love.”

Rosalynd scowled. “And how much did all of that cost you to make it happen?”

Al turned to her. Her body language read oddly – a bit of anger, but still the pent-up enthusiasm and excitement of the evening.

“As a matter of fact you paranoid equine, other than the cost of drinks and dinner and the round or two I sent over while you lot were playing it cost NOTHING. I did not bribe anyone to play with you, if that’s what you’re thinking.

“My entire involvement was to talk to the publican to find out if tonight was league night. He asked if I wanted to play a leg or two, and when I said no, that I was asking for you he smiled and said ‘Leave it to me.’ So, all of that was completely unscripted and untipped.” The fact that he had tried to and been rebuffed was on his soul alone...and mattered nothing.

Al also wisely left out the cost of the dart set – that was on his soul as well. He would do nothing to cheapen her enjoyment of the evening – and if a small lie helped…so be it. He’d discuss it with his Gods if and when.

“Really? You’re not lying to me?” Rosalynd seemed uncertain – the happiness being offset by the doubt.

“I am NOT lying to you. To be honest I couldn’t have arranged anything as perfect as that – all I did was initiate contact. The rest, you gorgeous mare you, was ALL you. I ‘ad nowt t’do wi’ it, ducks.”

She laughed, and punched him in the shoulder. “You are such a master at arranging things – I apologize for being suspicious…but it was almost too good. An old woman wonders…why anyone would pay attention like that – who didn’t have to.”

Al pulled into a farm gate and stopped the car. Rosalynd, startled, looked at him.

“I wanted to emphasize this – and I couldn’t while driving. This couldn’t wait till the B&B.

“You – yes, you – were the one responsible for how wonderfully your evening went. I may have set up the contact, but from then on all I did was send in a few rounds of drinks.

“You learned fast – and the plains animal instincts played you true. The indomitable Alexander spirit carried you through and by DAMN you carried the night – all on yourself. I did nowt.”

Al picked up her hand from the centre console and gently kissed the back of it.

Releasing her hand he turned back to the car’s controls and started it. Turning back into the lane they motored off.

Rosalynd was silent, and Al wondered if he’d pushed too hard. After a moment she turned to him and said, “I did do that, didn’t I?”

“No one else, unless you’ve a talented, gorgeous busty sister-“ and Al yelped at Rosalynd slugged him.

“I do NOT have a sister like that – or any other way, for that matter.” Turning forward, she said in a creditable imitation of his accent “Back to our lodgings, Al.”

“Yes…My Lady.” 
"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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Re: Full Disclosure

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Chapter 26:

Al rolled over, reaching for his cellphone as THAT ring sounded.

“Al Richer.” he said, trying to shake the fumes of sleep from his mind.

”MIB London – duty officer, Sergeant-Major. Can you talk?”

“Yes – one moment please.” Al got up and padded to the small table in the room, collecting his thoughts as he went. “We were out in the pub rather late last night, I’m afraid. What can I do for you?”

”It’s what we can do for you, sir. On the request of Director Oduya in the States we got on the address you gave her – it grows cold about five years ago, but we can give you his movements up until then. How would you like the information sent over?”

“Email, if you could. I can access that on my phone, or worse to worst return to Fen Ditton and do it from there. Barring that I could just buy a laptop and use my 2FA credentials to access my network.”

“I will email it, sir. Al at richer-engineering.com?”

“Yes. Please do put it in chronological order – I’d prefer not to chase about and want to pick up the trail as cleanly as possible.”

”Yes, sir. Be over in a moment.”

“Many thanks. If you turn up any further information please send it along the same way.”

The agent rung off, and Al tiptoed back toward the bed. A tousled head stuck out of the sheets and attempted to articulate a question – and failed.

“Not to worry, dear. That was Brandi’s minions – they got me an answer on Hew’s whereabouts."

The head snapped up, fully awake now. “And that answer was?”

“Nothing we need to deal with at present. I will go and get us coffee – you think about getting cleaned up and we can be off to the shops in York.”

Rosalynd looked up at him and glared. “Have you NO curiosity? Don’t you want to know?”

Al was unrepentant. “No, I am not at this instant. When you’ve commanded troops in the field you learn not to let curiousity overwhelm the mundane tasks unless necessary – and in this case it’s decidedly not necessary. I am going to get dressed and get us coffee – you get your backside out of bed and get into the shower – it’s nearly eight.”

“Humph. I’ll remind you of this the next time you want me to interrupt my day for a little ‘relaxation’. Not a priority…yeah, right.”

A few hours later they sat in a café, with Al opening the lid on a newly-purchased laptop.

“You are NOT going to use that to work, are you? I will personally shove that thing up your ass if you try.” Rosalynd was adamant – this was a vacation, damnit!

Al chuckled and pulled a ten-pound note out of his wallet. “Be a good girl and fetch us a couple of coffees while I do this. I looked at the items MIB sent over and they were unreadable on my phone screen – hence the laptop. I needed a new portable in any case, so this will hardly go to waste.” His actions did not go unchallenged.

Rosalynd stared at him, making no effort to retrieve the tenner. “Really? Do you seriously think I am going to do that?” With that she crossed her arms and glared at him – an action that in Al’s eyes made her even cuter.

“If you want me to share the results of the research with you you most certainly will.” Al said smoothly. “You are my driver, after all, so do fetch us a couple of coffees, there’s a good lass…”

The glare Rosalynd directed toward him should have vaporized him and the laptop on the spot, but it vanished into Al’s imperturbability field like it never existed. In the back of her mind Rosalynd could feel Al’s endless amusement at the situation – and the utter insincerity of the sentiments he’d expressed.

“Comeuppance? Is this what this is all about?”

“Sauce for the goose, dear. An old man like me enjoys having obedient, careful staff.”

Laughing, she took the tenner and went off to the counter.

On her return Al had logged into his secure email back at RE and pulled down the encrypted files. Opening the images he studied them, sorting the relevant entries from the dross.

“So, what do we have?” Rosalynd asked, sliding her chair over to see the screen.

“What we have is considerable – but as this is all essentially public records the coverage is not as good as it could have been. Our Miss Brandi took the data privacy laws seriously, or the lads and lasses at MIB in London did.

“This is all traced from essentially municipal and public records.” Pointing to one document then another he continued.

“We have them in Loughborough as of the time they shifted house from the Farm, and a move about the time his Da passed away. I suspect that they’d gotten a town property about that time to make it easier to get the old man the care he needed, and quit the place when it was no longer needed.”

“Makes sense. What was Hew’s profession?”

“Farm manager under his Da, then after that likely a stockman or the like. Hew was magic with animals from what I remember – even at our ages he had no trouble making stock do what he wanted.

“To be honest, with the behest from his Da I’m surprised he didn’t buy another farm and settle back down at that time.”

“Maybe he didn’t have enough to do that?” Rosalynd pointed out. “After all, there was some time there, and caring for his Dad must have eaten some of the proceeds from the farm up.”

Al shook his head. “His Da was a Yorkshireman as was Hew – a more tightfisted bunch has never walked the earth. I am sure that other than inheritance taxes that Hew ended up with a tidy sum.”

While they conversed Al continued to leaf through all of the documents. Suddenly, he stopped and clicked a property register to full-screen.

“Oh, hello…..interesting.”

“What? What do you have? Let me see.”

“Turns out that he did buy a stretch of land after his Da passed away. Not a farm, per se, but several parcels of land that were contiguous up around Oughtershaw in the Dales. He doesn’t seem to have done anything with it, as the purchases don’t coincide with a remove from the current address.

“Oh, wait. This was sold again to a realty trust a year or so afterward. Again, no change of residence, so whatever he was up to it didn’t work as a residence.”

Rosalynd looked bewildered. “That’s strange. Why would he buy land and not do something with it?”

“Indeed. It makes little sense.” Clicking and swiping Al reviewed the rest of the documents, then sat back as he sipped his coffee.

“Thanks for the coffee – the brain cells need the help. Where’s my change?”

Rosalynd punched him in the shoulder and both of them laughed. “You can look for it later, if you’re nicer to me.”

“Oh – THAT game is it? Oh, very well…later.” Al grew serious again and pointed to the screen.

“So, as MIB said, the trail goes cold about five years ago. They decamped from Loughborough – no forwarding address. Not sure what to do now.”

”Seems simple enough – go down there and bang on some doors. Your contacts have taken you as far as they can – so a little old-fashioned detective work is in order. Whaddya think?”
"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

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Chapter 27:

“Hello, my name is Rosalynd Richer. I’m trying to trace down some people who lived here about-“

CLUNK. The door was closed by the doughy-faced fat woman who had answered it.

Across the street Al was having scarcely better luck. On the doors that had opened, the answers were:

1. Don’t want any.
2. Eh? Dunno no one.
3. Been here six months – wish I could help.
4. WAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
5. Various non-English languages.

They met again back at the Bentley. Neither seemed encouraged by the other’s expression, and a quick recounting of their luck confirmed the lack of success.

“Damn, Al – folks here aren’t too friendly. Kind of a change from the folks we’ve met already. Question is – now what?”

Al had been considering this. “Without a direction to strike out in, I’m afraid we’re stymied. I think heading back to Fen Ditton tomorrow might be our only course of action. I can then grovel at Director Oduya to get MIB London to look a bit deeper, or we can go home and I can engage some resources I have at the governmental level.”

As they spoke a small car drove down the street and turned in at 21 Herrick Road – the address from which Hew and his wife had moved.

“Oh, there’s someone home. Coming, dear, or are you comfortable here?”

“Don’t try to stop me – if there’s a chance let’s go talk to ‘em. You want to lead or should I?”

“Please do, meduck. Your accent is exotic here, and might get us a better response.” Together they crossed the street as a young man got out of the car on the drive. Rosalynd spoke, adding a bit of her southern drawl to her speech.

“Pardon me, sir – my name is Rosalynd Richer. Can I ask you a question?”

The young man looked a bit uncertain, then decided Rosalynd was harmless. “Please do, madam. What can I do for you?”

“My husband and I are looking for Hew Whyte and his family – they moved from here about five years ago. We were wondering if you had any knowledge of them?”

The young man thought, a bit uncertain at this direct request. “Pardon me asking, ma’am, but why are you looking for them? This is a bit of an odd request.”

Al stepped up, hoping to persuade the young man to share information he obviously had. “I’m looking for them, sir – Hew is my cousin. He and his family are the only connection I have to family, and I’ve been away from England for a good many years – lost touch with them when he and I were lads. Nothing sinister – I just want to make contact again.”

“Alasdair. Alasdair Wright, sir. Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand and Al shook it, as did Rosalynd.

Al looked at Alasdair expectantly and the young man responded to the nonverbal cue.

“Oh – that’s all right, then. My wife and I bought the place from Hew and Millicent – his wife. Sons were off into the world and Hew was off to finish up a long-held desire to go back to farming. He’d worked for other folks when his Da was alive and since, and he’d finally gotten set up.”

“Oh! Odd we couldn’t find him in property records if that was the case – the farm purchase should have shown up.” Al shook his head, then turned back to Alasdair. “I’m sorry – my manners. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

“Not sure of the name of the property, but I do know it was back up north. Hew missed Yorkshire and the Dales, and wanted to go back. Millicent had no problem with it, and neither of them was going to miss Loughborough.” Alasdair stopped for a moment, then continued.

“It worked out perfectly. I work at the Uni as does my wife, so this house is only a short walk to work. Does this help?”

“It does indeed, young man. Many thanks.” Al shook his hand again, and at that he and Rosalynd retired to the Bentley.

“Well, shit. He’s up North. Who’d ‘a figured?” Rosalynd was simultaneously disgusted and amused.

“Honestly, I should have. I should have realized that there was no way he’d stay down here after his Da was gone. You’ve seen the land up there – that place gets into your soul. The Dales are wild – lots of remote areas up there and plenty of smallholdings that would be perfect for a man like Hew."

Rosalynd turned to him from the controls of the Bentley. “So, where to, then – back to Fen Ditton?”

“Hardly. North again, unless you want to go to the circus instead.” As he said that, he pointed to a poster that had been plastered onto the façade of a closed shop.

“No. HELL no. The last Lion Tamer Incident was bad enough, and I do NOT need you getting in trouble over here with another one.”

“That was hardly trouble, dear. The man was inept at best, and needed a bit of correction. However, that being said, let me make a phone call and then we can be off.” Al pulled his phone from his pocket, thumbed it on and tapped a number. The double-burr sounded once, then twice and a cheery, bluff voice answered.

” Good afternoon – Field House. Geoff speaking.”

“Geoff, Al Richer here – Lady Alexander’s here as well.” This got him a smack on the back of the head from his ‘chauffeur’, but this was not the time for play.

“Any chance you can put us up again for a few days? Unexpectedly, our travels are leading us north again.”

” Certainly. I see no problem with that. I’ll have to shuffle things a bit but your room will be waiting. Shall I call you in a reservation to the Shibden Mill Inn?”

Al made a few calculations. “Yes, please do – for eight?”

”No problem – come ahead. Where are you, and what’s your ETA?”

“Way down in Nottinghamshire, and figure two hours. I don’t want to push the Bentley.”

”Come ahead, then. I’ll have your room ready.”

Al rang off and put the phone back in his pocket. Rosalynd watched him, impassively, then asked “Where to, sir?”

“Out to the A1, then north. Our lodgings await us.” Al noticed that a few blouse buttons had gotten themselves undone while he was on the phone and decided to play along. He got out of the front of the vehicle and sat in the back, saying “Drive on.”
"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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Re: Full Disclosure

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Chapter 28:

Rosalynd stretched languidly, but something was…missing.

A cup of coffee was sitting on the bedside stand, but her usual appreciative audience was nowhere to be seen. Sitting up, claiming the cup and sipping she looked around the room.

Al, dressed in his exercise clothes, sat at the table, laptop open in front of him and cables connecting it to power and network. His fingers busily caressed the keyboard and trackpad, and he studied the data presented.

“That better not be work. I told you what I’d do with that laptop if you tried to do that.” Rosalynd growled, a trifle miffed at his activity.

He looked up, a bit startled. “Wondered when you’d wake up. That cup of coffee must be tepid – I went down and fetched it fifteen minutes or so ago. And to answer that thinly-veiled threat, no, this is not work.

“I am in the process of stepping through the information that MIB provided. Somewhere in there is a hint of where Hew decamped to – I can feel it. If this turns up nothing, I think a grovel at Ms. Oduya might be in order.”

Rosalynd got up, crossed the room and stood behind Al, wrapping her arms around his seated form. “Al, let it sit for the moment. Neither of us is anywhere near caffeinated enough for this, and a good breakfast will help. Trying to mine this stuff needs calories.”

“True enough, dear. Go get ready and we’ll go down and eat, then come back up. Between my Intelligence training and your business acumen perhaps we can glean some information from this dross.”

Later, they sat at the table, a coffee service on the credenza behind them along with full cups in front of each. Al sipped, then pointed at the screen.

“This makes no sense. From what Alasdair said yesterday, Hew and his wife came back up here to farm. Makes sense – he was a landsman if I’ve ever met one. However, the trail just ends – no public record of purchase, no listings in council rolls at any of the small towns up here. There’s just no trace in public records.”

“Any chance you can get Brandi to dig a little deeper?” Rosalynd asked.

“Perhaps, and perhaps not. I really don’t have a legitimate reason to ‘need’ any non-public information, and Ms. Oduya is more than aware of it. If I asked Glytch I’d have everything down to Millicent’s shoe size – but that’s just…wrong.”
Rosalynd nodded. “I get it. No matter the best intentions…wrong and illegal is wrong, Sir Galahad.”

Al grinned sheepishly. “Yes, dear. I will accept that as a working hypothesis.” He pointed at the computer. “Somehow, though – I feel the answer is there. We’re just being too thick to recognize it.”

“OK, let’s go over it again. I sit, you talk. Let’s see if we can rubber-duck this sucker.”

An hour later, Rosalynd stopped the recital.

“Wait a minute. Wait a minute….OK, anomaly time.”

“And what would that be, dear?” Al stood and went to the carafe, pouring himself another cup. Stirring in cream and sugar he sipped, then grimaced. “Cold. Oh, well, needs must and all. So, anomaly?”

“The purchases. Every time Hew and Millicent bought a property, they moved there. First Loughborough till the old man passed on, then Loughborough over by the University. After that the trail goes cold.”

“Agreed. They decamped from Herrick Road and disappeared – at least from the records we can access. All straightforward.”

“All but ONE purchase.” She typed rapidly, and brought up a land registration. “The property purchase around Oughtershaw, then selling it on to a land trust a year after. They never moved.”

“Quite true. An anomaly, indeed. However, what of it? They bought property, the plans for it fell through, and they found a buyer and moved it on.”

“What if the sale to the land trust WAS the plan?” Rosalynd asked. “It’s not unusual to acquire resources then reallocate them in business, and you know this as well as I do. What if this was a case of allocating resources that came available, then moving them as needed?”

Al began to speak, then stopped, then began again, then stopped again. Al pointed at the records and gestured – an invitation to continue.

“Okay, figure this. Hew’s Dad passes away, and Hew is left with the bequest. However, plans he’s making aren’t ready and won’t be for a good amount of time – a year or two he figures – so he does what anyone would do. Instead of leaving the money fallow he buys land – a stretch either part of or adjacent to the area he’s making plans to move to. This way, he’s locked down the resources they’ll need when their plans are ready – and he can move the resources then.”

“Why a trust, though?” Al pondered. “It’s not like he’s going to be working for them – not if he’s the man I remember as a boy. He’d want to be independent.”

Rosalynd thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “What if he IS the trust? He and others, let’s say. They pool their resources and set up a smallholding cooperative. Depending on what they’re doing that could give security for the operation moving forward – and let’s face it he’s no youngster.

“Land trusts in the States are usually set up as non-profits – they act for the conservation of land and its preservation for future generations. With the squeeze on agricultural land in the UK right now that type of a setup would make a lot of sense.

“Picture this – the trust owns the land – some smallholdings for farming, some open land for grazing or recreational purposes and all held by the trust and leased to the users at a nominal set of fees to maintain the property and pay taxes and such. Anything they make off it is theirs, as the payments to the trust are zero-profit and just for the maintenance of the land and dealing with the government. What do you think?”

“I think you may be on to something. Let’s pull out the name of that trust and I need to call Dagenham – I’m sure he can get me information on the corporation – specifically the trustees.”

Al picked up his phone and tapped a contact. The phone rang with the double-burr of the local exchange, and a cultured, young voice answered the call.

”Dagenham and Dagenham solicitors – how may I direct your call?”

“Alex, my lad – it’s Sergeant-Major Richer. You are exactly the person I needed, barring you giving me better information.”

”I will certainly try and help, Sergeant-Major. What do you need?”

“I need to find out the business address and list of directors for a land trust. As it should be in the public record I suspect that your firm should have no issue finding me this information – and a sight quicker than I could do so myself.”

”Certainly, we can do that. Let me take whatever information you have and I will speak to Mr. Dagenham about it. I dare say we can get a quick answer for you.”

Al passed over the information from the land purchase record, then rang off after being given a promise of a quick return call. He was as good as his word, because a half-hour heard the phone ring.

Alex was on the phone, sounding excited. ”Sergeant-Major. I have your information for you. Mr. Dagenham told me where it might be, and he was exactly right – a doddle. I have twenty pages or so for you – how would you like me to send it along?”

“Email, please. Is the information complete?”

”Quite. Also, Mr. Dagenham has given me instructions to ‘not bother him’ if you call for things but simply get them for you if needed. Obviously, anything legal with have to go through him or my Da – the other partner, but if you need information I’m allowed to get it for you. So what’s the quarry, if I may be so imprudent as to ask?”

“History and family, my good man. Give Mr. Dagenham my sincere thanks. I will be in before I leave the country to formalize our relationship – I will need representation here and your firm is recommending itself to me.”

” Many thanks, Sergeant-Major – we do try. Mr. Dagenham will I am sure be pleased to hear what you just told me.”

“Good-oh. Chat later – and do send along that information.” Al rang off, and turned to Rosalynd with an excited look on his face.

“That lad will go far. We’ll have the information in a few minutes, and then we can see where we need to go.”

“Damn, Two-Legs – I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – you want something, you go for it.” Rosalynd was impressed – she was getting to see the Sergeant-Major in action – this was pure intelligence-gathering.

Al turned to Rosalynd, a thought in his head. “Why don’t you get dressed in your hill-walking clothes? Depending on where we have to go, we will be near the Dales and an AONB or two – so a good stretch of the legs might be in order.”

Rosalynd arched her back and threw her shoulders back, stretching. “I wish I COULD get a good stretch of the legs – been too damn long since I’ve been feral. Would you ping MIB London and see if there are any feral-safe areas up here for walking? I could use a good run.”

“I will do that, dear, but for the moment human will have to do.” The computer chimed, indicating an incoming email. “Good!” said Al, running his hands together. “Now, let’s see what we have.”

Opening the files he started to leaf through the scans of incorporation documents.

“Rosalynd, you are absolutely right. The incorporation of the land trust was a month before Hew sold them the land – so they didn’t exist at the time he purchased the properties.”

He kept scanning the documents, looking for a legal address. “Damnit. Mailing address is a postal box in Hawes – there’s no address for offices. This will take a bit of digging – starting at the post office, I suspect.”

He stopped, staring at the screen. Rosalynd walked out of the bath and looked at him.

“What?”

Al pointed at the screen, to the list of trust officers. Prominent in the list were Hew Whyte – Conservation Officer and Millicent Whyte – Secretary.

“GOT HIM!” Rosalynd crowed, hugging the old man in the chair. “So, when do we leave?”

“As soon as I can get ready we can depart. Give me fifteen minutes."
"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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Re: Full Disclosure

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Chapter 29:

In the car (Rosalynd at the wheel again – Al was getting QUITE tired of this) Al’s ‘chauffeur’ asked “So, which way, Two-legs?”

“Such impudence! I am going to dress you down thoroughly if this continues.” Al said sternly from the back seat.

“Or just undress me…sir?” Rosalynd said, watching for his reaction in the rear-view mirror. In this she was not at all disappointed, as the crimson addition to his normal ruddy complexion showed her verbal score. However, his voice held none of it.

“Later, wench. We have business to be about.

“Take the A629 North as far as Skipton. After that it’s all B-roads – and you’ll get to see what the Yorkshire Dales really looks like - We’ll be going through the heart of it.” Al paused a moment, and said, a bit sadly, “I didn’t think we’d be visiting Michael – funny how things work out, eh?”

Rosalynd’s attitude changed immediately. “Why don’t you move up here?” she said, patting the wide bench seat at the front. Nodding, Al did that, sliding into the passenger’s seat.

”I’d almost forgotten…with the hunt and all, I’d almost forgotten about him. What an ungrateful wretch.”

Rosalynd put the car in gear, and pulled out heading for the A-road North. As they navigated the streets of the city she spoke.

“You didn’t forget. You got focused on your hunt is all. Tell me with Victoria here you could forget about him!” she said, running a caressing hand over the walnut dashboard with its Jaeger instruments.

“Still…I should not have forgotten. It’s not been so long, after all.”

“Al, do you seriously think that Michael, wherever he is, is not greatly enjoying watching us scurry around the countryside on this quest? Whether my God, your Gods or Michael himself inspiring it this has been a marvelous adventure.

“You haven’t forgotten a damn thing. As Tirion said, every time Michael’s toys go out to play he’s there. In that case, Victoria here has certainly had him riding along.

“At this point in the game what would he say?”

Al thought about that question, and began to speak, stopped, began again and stopped again. “I can think of only one word.”

“TALLYHO!” Al shouted, and pointed forward. Rosalynd smiled and pressed the accelerator. The Bentley spit gravel from under its tyres as it found the A-road North.

As they drove Al spoke of the trip.

“This will be a beautiful run - and was on my list of places to bring you in any case. We’ll be on the A629 till we get to Skipton, then from there it is all country lanes until we strike Hawes.”

“Al - dumb question. Is there some reason we’re taking the slow boat route? Not in a hurry, mind you, but….kinda in a hurry to figure out what’s what.” Al was amused - his darling wife was thoroughly enjoying the hunt - and Al was enjoying watching her.

He answered her as he poked at the map book he’d bought. “Not a stupid question at all. Part of it is simply geographic - unlike the States motorways here are nowhere near as ubiquitous. We could well have taken the M1 North then cut over, but
that would have given us little in the way of a time gain and much of a loss in the beauty of the trip.

“The route we’re currently taking is speedy at the beginning - dual carriageway as you’re driving now. Then, we’ll actually be in the Dales - and that needs to be savoured. Trust me when I say you are in the right place for the journey - driving the Dales is not fast, but you will enjoy it. If you like I will take over-“

“Not on a bet, buster. Victoria and I do very…VERY well…together.” She reached a hand forward and caressed the walnut of the dashboard.

“I am beginning to get a bit jealous, dear. You and Victoria are having a rather torrid affair here, and I am feeling rather the outsider.”

“Oh, nonsense. We’ll let you…ride along…won’t we, Victoria, dear?” Again the hand went forward and caressed the dashboard, and Al realized that this was going to be a very interesting trip indeed.

Under Rosalynd’s skilled driving the car cruised up the carriageway. Towns flowed by to either side, then Skipton was reached, with the end of the carriageway and the view of Skipton Castle and the church peeping from the skyline. Once out of the city’s influence the pace changed dramatically - the roads narrowed, the pace slowed, and the environment itself changed from the flat cityscapes to the wandering roads running through the narrow valleys.

Rosalynd took her time, marveling at the beauty of the countryside as they proceeded. The roads meandered along the valley bottoms, through the villages as they came to them. Names like Hetton, Grassington and Kilnsey flowed by, mere widenings in the road with branching streets running from the high streets they traveled along.

In between the villages, the road ran between stone walls, with crops and grazing to either side up the hills and down the valleys. Mile after mile they went, with other villages notable only as groups of stone-built buildings to either side of the road.

In between, the fields were green with the close-cropped grass of grazing dotted with the white blobs of sheep and the roan shapes of cattle. This was accompanied by the grey of stone, in buildings and in outcrops from the rugged hill territory.

Al sat back and relaxed, other than the occasional need for his job as navigator. Rosalynd and the Bentley were like a well-practiced pair of dressage competitors, with Rosalynd guiding the finely bred car through its paces on the narrow, twisting roads.

Finally, they reached Hawes - which seemed quite the metropolis compared to the territory they’d been through. Crowded with cars and noisy, they made their way up the high street past the shops and businesses.

“Damn, Two-Legs – this place is tourist hell. Every other business is either a B&B or an antique shop.” She said as they passed establishments marked ‘The Crown – B&B’ and ‘The Broad Inn’.

“Take a left at the parking sign – let’s get Victoria tucked away off the main street and then we can walk about and figure our next move. I, for one, could use a cuppa and a scone.”

“Good idea. Cup of coffee and a scone sounds good – breakfast was a few hours ago.”

Rosalynd turned where told, and a minute or two saw the Bentley safely ensconced in a parking space off Gayle Street. A minute’s walk saw them back on the high street, which was raucous with chatter of passerby, a line of cars in both directions on the road and the normal bustle of a high street.

“First things first – we need to plan our attack. Then we can find the post office and enquire as to the whereabouts of Hew.” Rosalynd nodded.

A few minutes saw them seated at an outdoor table at the Penny Garth Café – an establishment that recommended itself by being immediately to hand. Cups of coffee and baked goods purchased, they sat and watched the parade go by.

Tasting her coffee and nibbling the scone, Rosalynd grimaced and said “Geoff’s are better – and Tirion’s are light-years over this thing. What is with this place, Al? This is a small village – why the hell is it so busy?” Rosalynd was amazed at the sheer traffic.

“The issue is, dear, that A: this is the high season up here – and B: Hawes is right at the centre of the Dales. Tourism is a large part of the economy up here now – witness all of the establishments catering – some literally – to the transient traffic.

“Walkers, caravaners, tourists from here and abroad love the Dales. It’s beautiful here – but the concentration of visitors does lead to some issues.”

Rosalynd’s eyes unfocused slightly as she thought of the drive up and the scenery, and she nodded. “It’s amazing here and I don’t wonder why people come and visit. I do get it – it’s just that this is kind of jarring.”

Al sipped at his coffee and made a face. “This…is definitely not what we’ve become used to, I agree. I agree with you – this level of bustle is just anathema to the beauty of the area. However, needs must – and if people come someone must care for them. Now, on to the business at hand.”

Al stepped back into the café and spoke to the cashier.

“Lad, where can I find the post office?”

“There isn’t one on the high street, sir. The proper post office closed in 2014, and now it’s part of the community centre – that’s just back of the market square here.”

“Where is the mail delivered from, then?”

“The delivery office is over on Hawes Court by the National Park administrative buildings. Down here, left on Brunt Acres Road, and follow the signs.”

“Thank you, lad.”

Al returned to the table. Rosalynd had given up on the scone and was sipping at her coffee and watching the parade of tourists going by.

“So – where to?”

“Back to the car, I’m afraid. The high street post office closed years ago, so the box number is useless. Need to go to the distribution office and hope to pick up a clue from there. Hopefully the trust is still maintaining a post box there, but one never knows. Ready?”

Rosalynd didn’t answer, appearing for the moment to be deep in thought. Al waited, and she spoke slowly.

“Let’s double-team this. You go ahead to the post office, and meet me back here when you get done.”

Al was puzzled. “Where are you going to be?”

She smiled, dazzlingly, and spoke in her best Louisville accent. “AH’m gonna in-dulge in a little Retail Therapy, hun!” Laughing, she spoke again normally.

“I’m going to hit the shops out here on the main drag. Nose around, buy some tchotchkes, ask some questions. I figure that somebody here may know Hew and Millicent – not from selling to them, but as residents who come into the village for groceries and the like.

“Nobody’s going to think twice that the American lady is any kind of a threat, and the accent as you say makes me sound exotic and non-threatening especially when I shovel it on.”

Al picked up her hand and kissed it. “You, my dear, are a truly dangerous woman. Learning tradecraft…brilliant. I will leave you to it, then, and be back soon.”

Standing, Al patted his pocket as a matter of habit, then looked at Rosalynd. She looked at him, puzzled.

“Keys?”

“Oh, sorry.” Reaching to her purse she extracted the ring and handed it to him.

A few minutes later Al was turning into the industrial estate, and pulled up to the building labeled ‘3 Raynes Court – Royal Mail Delivery Office’. Entering the door and walking to the counter was the work of a moment, and he was addressed by a pleasant but nondescript clerk.

“May I help you, sir?”

“Yes. I am Al Richer, and I am trying to find the address of the Dales Highland land trust. I know they have a post box in Hawes, per their incorporation papers.”

“I’m afraid I can’t give out any information of that type, sir.” The clerk said emotionlessly. Al suddenly realized he was up against a bastion of British bureaucracy – the long-sitting jobsworth. Oh, dear…this is not going to be pleasant. Time for a personal approach.

“Look, mate – I’m not a bill collector or a warrant server. The conservation officer of Dales Highland is a cousin of mine – Hew Whyte – and I’m trying to get in touch with him while I’m back in the country. Please, can you give me the trust’s physical address so I can go knock them up?”

“As I said, sir, we are not permitted to give out that information to members of the general public.” Bland, imperturbable, the functionary hid behind his air of utter indifference.

“Is there anyone else here I can talk to about this? How can I contact Dales Highland?”

“I am afraid there is no one else here but me, sir. As you have their post box number, sir, I suggest you write them a letter with your contact information. This way they can, if desired, contact you.”

Through gritted teeth Al asked “Can you at least confirm that the post box number I have is still valid or current?” If he can confirm that, then at least I know I’m on the right scent.

“I am afraid not, sir.”

With increasing levels of irritation Al continued to ask the worthy for help, to no effect. Every request was greeted with the bland “I’m afraid not, sir.” or some other negative usually quoting some obscure postal regulation.

Finally, without so much as acknowledgement, the worthy said ”Have a pleasant day, sir.”, turned away from the counter and walked into the back room.

Al fumed quietly for a moment, with thoughts of mayhem bubbling in the back of his mind. Pivoting on a toe, he marched from the office and back out to the parking lot, where a heartfelt stream of muttered profanity issued from his lips till he was seated in the Bentley.

“No, sir, thank you, sir, SODDINGGIT. Useless bloody jobsworth. Turn away from me….”Al continued to fume for a minute or two, then took several deep breaths and straightened in his seat.

“Fine. Now what. Think, you miserable old fool. You know intelligence work – where do we go from here?” Cudgel his brain as he might, Al could see no further for the moment.
With a sigh he reached for his phone and texted Rosalynd.

“Where are you?”

The answer chirped back seconds later.

“Meet you where we were parked. Bought us some stuff for lunch – tired of restaurants.
Got recommended a place to sit and eat, too.”

With that Al started the car, and minutes later was back at the car park. Surprised, he saw Rosalynd standing there holding a picnic hamper.

“And what do you have there?”

“This is lunch. Let’s go sit, and then we can talk.” Walking up the path at the back of the car park, they hiked a short distance up the hill.

From there the view was magnificent. The hill overlooked the village and the stone buildings along the main street. To the outside was Gayle Beck, and running along it the Pennine Way.

Rosalynd set the hamper down, reached into it and pulled out a picnic cloth, spreading it on the rough grass. Seating herself she reached to the lid of the hamper and extracted small plates, knives and napkins, and set out containers of cut up vegetables, a block of cheese and a crusty loaf of bread.

“This is marvelous! What made you think of this, love?” Al leaned over and gave his wife a peck on the cheek, then began to pile his plate with the vegetables.

Rosalynd picked up the loaf of bread and tore off a chunk, setting it by Al’s plate. After that, she tore off one for herself, grabbing a bite and chewing.

“I’m sick of sitting at a table and being served. I figured a picnic out in the sunshine would be just what we needed. I got you something special, too.” She reached in and pulled out a paper-wrapped package, handing it to Al.

Unwrapping it released a wonderful scent of cured meats, revealing a thick slice of country ham.

“This…is just amazing. Where did you get all of this?” Al was thoroughly surprised and pleased.

“Intelligence gathering under the guise of a tourist lady buying food and a basket for lunch.” She pointed down the hill and to the right.

“There’s a shop down there – local grocery. Amazing place, ‘cause you name it they’ve got it. I was in the gift shop just down the street and I saw this hamper and it gave me the idea.

“I bought the hamper, then trucked on down to the grocery store. Wandered in there an’ ah turned inta the confused Southern lady who wanted to give her hubby a nice picnic…and they went for it.”

Al applauded, then took his knife and served himself a cut of the ham. Adding a healthy chunk of the pale crumbly Wensleydale cheese to it on his already-full plate, he took the chunk of bread Rosalynd had pulled from the loaf and began to eat, thoroughly enjoying lunch al fresco.

“Then what happened?”

Chewing and swallowing, Rosalynd waved her fork at him then speared up more of the vegetables. “Simple enough. I wandered around the store and asked lots of questions. They were oh-so helpful, making suggestions to what worked with what. When I explained I was vegetarian but you weren’t they suggested that country ham you’re enjoying. Wonderful folks, and great food.

“Oh, found your cousin, too.” She busily went back to her plate after that statement, forking up another mouthful of vegetables and chasing it with a bite of the chewy artisan bread.

“WHAT?” Al nearly dropped his plate. “TELL!”

Rosalynd leisurely finished what she was eating, had another bite of bread and a bit of cheese. The twinkle in her eye said volumes – she was enjoying her success and was going to drag it out.

Reaching again into the hamper she pulled out a bottle of sparkling lemonade and handed it to Al, then took one for herself.

“Rosalynd…you try my patience. Tell.”

Opening and sipping at her lemonade she smiled, and began.

“Wandering around the high street it occurred to me that 90% of what was there a local would have no use for. Cafes, maybe, but even then. Tourist gift shops, trekking gear…not likely. B&Bs…nope.

“So, I asked myself what would local people need?

“Food, that’s what. Secondarily, supplies. Now, given Skipton’s a helluva drive so going there will not be a quick thing. Neither will going anywhere else, from what I remembered of the maps you showed me. That means anyone out here is going to go big and stock up on things, then come into town for perishables and specialty items – and fuel.”

“Good thought. Do go on.”

“One of the good things is this place is small. A couple minutes saw me casing the local stores, and that’s how I chose the one I did. It’s the biggest and the best equipped and is very nice – so the most attractive.”

“What made you think of the basket?” Al was curious – this was fascinating!

“Misdirection. If they’re filling my basket-“

“I thought that was MY job!” Al quipped, collecting a sharp rap to the back of the head for his troubles.

“Shuddup. If they’re filling my order they’re not paying too much attention to the other questions I’m asking. Once I got the food I wanted and got them thinking about that, asking ‘My husband’s cousin lives around here – Hew Whyte – do y’all know him?’ got me the answers I needed.”

“And the answer IS?” Al was getting exasperated.

“Patience. Actually, we drove right by their place on the way here. They’re just outside Oughtershaw, on this side of it. The place is called New Keep Farm.”

Al nodded “Perfect sense. They named it after Hew’s Da’s place. So, tell. What else did you manage to glean?”

“A fair amount. They’re well thought of – nice folk.”

“Anything on what they’re doing? Farming, grazing, tourism?”

Rosalynd chuckled, stopping for another bite or two before continuing. “All of the above, actually. The place they’re at is mixed use, with crops for the farm and sale, grazing and self-catering cottages as well. That’s how the shopkeepers know them, as they send their guests there for supplies, booze and so on.

“From what they were telling me, Hew and Millicent are very well thought of by their guests, and that the place is busy all season.”

Al said nothing, eating in a manner that had become mechanical. Rosalynd sensed a
reticence in him replacing the initial joy at finding his cousin. She continued to eat as well, and conversation fell into a hiatus as they finished their meal.

Dusting herself off, Rosalynd packed the remains of their picnic back into the basket and asked Al “Okay – where to from here?”

“We can have a wander round the shops, then take a walk up the hill here to the creamery that this delicious cheese came from. After that, back to Halifax, I think – it’s going to take us some time to get back there. Dinner there, or perhaps at the White Horse? Could catch something on the way as well, if you want a bit of variety.”

Rosalynd stared at him, perplexed. “What about your cousin? I thought you’d want to go there and see him again.”

“It’s a bit late in the day – I wouldn’t want to go disturbing them at tea. Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after.“

Sipping from her lemonade, Rosalynd looked hard at Al, and into his soul. The link made his emotional state clear – uncertainty, fear, indecision. It’s almost like he doesn’t WANT to see them, after all this time..

Rosalynd, saying nothing, picked up the basket and headed for the car. After the basket was secured in Victoria’s boot, she said brightly, “I could do with some dessert after that. Let’s go back to the grocery store – they had a fantastic bakery with all sorts of things.”

“Care for a walk about first, to settle things?” Al asked.

“No. Not. I need chocolate, and you need to buy me some.” Her attitude was definite, and a bit bemused Al acceded.

To the grocery shop was only a few minutes, using the path by the beck. Once on the high street Rosalynd led the way, and they walked in.

“Ma’am – good to see you again! And is this the lucky man who that picnic was for? Pleased to meet you, sir!” The counterman, jolly and rotund, would not have been out of place behind that counter a century before.

“Why yes, this here’s mah hubby! He’s one o’ you folks, he is – ah just got so lucky when ah landed him!” Rosalynd gushed, the Southern in her speech thoroughly exaggerated. Trying hard not to laugh Al allowed himself to be dragged to the bakery section and the displays of treats there.

“Ah just DON’T know what to try – it all looks so good!” The ebullient tirade continued, and Al wondered how she thought she’d ever live this down. Suddenly, with an indrawn breath Rosalynd stopped, hands fluttering, at a beautiful cake in the case. The discreet label on its pedestal said ‘Chocolate with royal icing – serves 8 to 12’.

“PERFECT! That – I’ll have THAT! Could y’all put that in a box for me? Thank you, hun!” she asked the gentleman, now behind the bakery counter.

“Certainly, ma’am – be but a moment.” The counterman pulled the cake from its pedestal and carried it to a back counter for boxing and wrapping.

“Rosalynd, ducks…don’t you think that’s a bit too much for the two of us? That cake could serve eight easily with generous slices.”

Ignoring him completely she kept up her chatter to the counterman, who was obviously smitten with the ebullient American. Soon, a string tied box was passed over the counter and Rosalynd passed him a credit card – her RE AMEX.

“Oh, no – Mort will have a heart attack…let me pay cash…” he began, only to be cowed into silence by the steely glance his wife paid him. Handing him the box, Rosalynd finished the transaction and they left the shop, headed for the car.

Arriving, completely unceremoniously Rosalynd reached into Al’s pants pocket and extracted the keys. Opening the doors she positioned herself behind the wheel, leaving Al literally holding the sack containing the cake.

Getting in, Al looked at his wife.

“All right, what is going on? More the point, what are we going to do with a cake that is more suitable for a small wedding than an al fresco dessert?”

“We’re not eating it here.” Rosalynd started the car, and began to back out of the parking space.

Al nodded, understanding. ”Very well, then. We can head back, have dinner at the White Horse, and this can be deposited with Geoff-“

“No.”

“No? What are you up to you mad equine?”

“No, it’s what YOU’re up to, asshole. You keep forgetting I feel what you feel – and after I gave you the intel on Hew and Millicent I could feel you…ball up inside. You went from hot on the chase to scared stupid inside. What the fuck, Al?”

Al sighed, sagging in the front seat of the car.

“I was so focused on whether I could find them or not to think about whether I actually should do so.” He held up a hand, forestalling the angry rejoinder he could feel developing in his wife’s mind.

“As I said before, even though I had information on my brothers, I never bothered to track down their families. I would be no one to them – just a genetic relative – and that is a meaningless connection.

“Hew and Millicent are much the same. He would know me, or should at least recognize my name, but who am I a half-century later? No one he needs to know. To Millicent I’m nothing but perhaps an old story told by the fire – the cousin who visited Summers till he disappeared.

“Hew wouldn’t know me if he passed me on the street after all this time. I’m torn – I’d love to see him again, but perhaps it’s better to leave it the way it is. They don’t need the disruption in their lives.

“Let’s just head back to Halifax. I need to think on this for a day or two, and then make a decision. After all, half a century more or less gone will not be changed by an extra day or two, eh?”

Rosalynd stared at him, and Al began to feel more than a bit uncomfortable.

“What? It’s not like it’s any loss to them to see me again, given the time gone by. A day, a month, a year…won’t matter-“

Rosalynd spoke, her voice flat. “I could Goddamned SWEAR that a few days ago I heard a certain pompous asshole of an Englishman make a comment about ‘One can never count on a tomorrow, as today may well be all we have.’ I SWEAR I heard that.”

“Yes, you did. However, that was about the situation between you and me – which I could hardly turn my back on-“

“This is the Same. Damn. Thing. you pompous twit. Same problem, same issues, same thing.

“If we go back to Halifax you’re going to spend the night sitting up and communing with your damned ghosts. And the next night, and the next, until you either drop exhausted or we end up back in Fen Ditton, then home.

“I am TIRED of this bullshit.” With that she started the Bentley, backed it out of its parking space and headed back to the high street. Turning right, she headed back South.

Al sagged in his seat. “I understand, Rosalynd. This is however not at all a simple situation. Picking up the pieces of a life long-lost is not a simple task. I promise not to bother you with this until I make a decision.”

“Damn right you’re not going to bother me with this. We’re going there now.”

“No, we are NOT. I am NOT going to barge in on people at tea – has it occurred to you what time it is – or will be by the time we reach there? That’s just bad manners.”

“It’s not bad manners if you don’t show up empty handed. We’re going to stop and buy a big bouquet of flowers for Millicent, and there’s that cake you were bitching about.”

“I will make a decision on this over the next day or two and we will then make a move. Not till then. Do you understand me?” Al was adamant, and the Sergeant-Major more so.

“I understand you perfectly. However, THIS time I am not letting you waffle. I am DONE with this.”

She pulled the car over into a farm drive and shut off the engine, leaving the quiet of the countryside. Turning to him and taking his hands, she spoke slowly, carefully and earnestly.

“Al, I know what this is – and what it is is your insecurities talking. Plain and simple you’re afraid that we’ll go up, knock on the door and the answer will be a slamming door – or worse, the question ‘Al who?? Pardon, don’t recognize the name.’

“If that happens I will be here. As I was after Leeds, as I was back when Emerauld pushed you to the edge, and from that first night by the lake….I love you. I will never let you go, no matter what. The world can forget both of us…but we are one.

“You need to do this, or it will eat at you. This is the same problem as Leeds – you’re imagining the worst. That ate at you for years. I can’t let you do this to yourself again, love.

“Even if the worst happens…I am here. Now, and forever. For life, till death and beyond.” Releasing his hands, she started the car, backed it back onto the lane, and began to drive again.

While she did she felt for him through their bond. Anger was there a-plenty, and fear. However, gradually, both of them faded, to be replaced by love, and thankfulness.

“As always, meduck, you are quite right. I bow to your logic, and agree.”
"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 30:

Some time later they found themselves at an entrance discreetly tucked into a copse of trees. Bordered by stone walls as all the roads were, this was marked by a wooden sign reading ‘New Keep Farm’. The drive was raked gravel and wound out of sight in the trees shortly after leaving the road.

Rosalynd with some difficulty turned the large car down the narrow drive, wincing at the scrape of a bramble or two on the offside. Al sat and said nothing, tranquil on the surface.

“You still in there, Two-legs?” Rosalynd asked as the car traversed the drive.

“Yes, ducks. I am, however, somewhat nervous at the reception we are going to receive.”

DING! Understatement level UP! Rosalynd thought. While tranquil on the surface with the bland face cultivated by decades of service, his internal state was turmoil, rigidly held in check by his discipline.

The car emerged from the trees and the buildings of the farm were revealed, a group on the hillside. To both sides of the drive were fields, and the black, white and brown hides of sheep, goats and cattle grazed contentedly in them.

The farm buildings were solid, imposing and mostly in harmony with the terrain. The farmhouse was a large rambling stone and tile building, obviously old and much added-to over the decades.

The outbuildings were much the same, with low stone sheds for stock, and larger ones for feed and tack. Jarringly there were a few newer buildings, but even these had been put up with an eye to the harmony of the site and were screened as possible, and coloured to match the rest.

The hillsides beyond were divided by stone walls. Some contained crops, and others more animals. Through them ran paths worn into the rock of the hillsides by innumerable travelers over the years.

Rosalynd brought the Bentley to a stop, admiring the beauty. It was quite a sight, with the dappled sunlight and shadows of clouds drifting over the landscape under the bright-blue sky.

She went to drive forward again, and Al stopped her.

“We…I can’t face this. Let’s let it go – I’ll never speak of it again.” He put his hand on her arm as an entreaty, and the concern showed in his eyes and in his emotions.

Briskly Rosalynd said “Sorry – no place to turn around here – and I am not backing Victoria down this track. Nowhere to go but forward.” She then put the car back into gear and Victoria rolled up the narrow drive, entering the yard of the farmstead.
Parking in a line of other vehicles she turned off the engine and handed Al the bouquet of flowers they’d bought on the way. “Let’s go. I’d rather they didn’t notice us and come out – that could get a little weird. Let’s go, then.”

Reluctantly, Al got out of the car holding the flowers, and Rosalynd followed him with the bag containing the cake. The walk to the main door seemed an eternity to Al, even with Rosalynd’s comforting presence in his mind and at his back. The dark wood door with a fan light loomed larger and larger till he finally stood in front of it. Raising his hand was hard but he did, and knocked firmly.

The seconds ticked by, then the door opened, held by a handsome older woman. Erect of posture and sharp of wit she regarded the two at her door a bit oddly given their burdens, but recovered quickly.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Good day. I’m looking for Hew Whyte – would he be home at the moment? My name is Al Richer – he and I knew each other when we were lads.”

The woman relaxed and smiled. “Hew’s out in the machine shed - the green one at the back– he’ll be in for ‘is tea in a bit. Care for a cuppa while we wait?”

“Actually, Al – why don’t you go out and see him?” Rosalynd said. Taking the flowers from Al she stepped to the door and said “He’ll never think to introduce me, but I’m Rosalynd Richer – his wife. If you’re Millicent then these are for you – and we’ve brought some dessert for you as well.”

Millicent broke out in a broad smile, showing the friendliness of farm folk. “Thank you! Hew does have a sweet tooth. Come in, I’ll put the kettle on and we can get these lovely flowers into a vase.” The two ladies disappeared into the house, and Al was left standing outside.

Closing the door Millicent (for it could be no one else) turned to Rosalynd and said “How interesting, you two coming by. What prompted it – your husband wanting to make contact after all these years? Oh, listen to me just going on and not letting you get in a word edgewise!”

“Do let me have that box – I’ll put it in the larder for the moment – it’s cool there.” Handing over the sack Rosalynd watched as Millicent disappeared through a doorway, returning again momentarily with a crystal vase – Waterford from the look of it.

“Oh, these flowers ARE lovely. We can arrange them while the kettle boils.” Setting them down on the counter territory she added water and sugar to the vase, then got out a cutting board and a heavy, short bladed knife.

Rosalynd stood, watching the flurry of activity and enjoying the normalcy of it. In the back of her mind, however, she could still feel Al's distress. Debating whether she needed to go out and apply hoof to buttock she stood quietly, watching Millicent flutter around the kitchen.

Noticing Rosalynd's absorption Millicent spoke again, waving to a chair at the heavy wooden table in the centre of the large kitchen. “Please, do sit down. Do tell me what’s brought you here – I’m sorry – I’ve been just nattering on and not waiting for answers. Please, do tell.” As she spoke Millicent unwrapped the flowers, and with the knife began to trim the stems, arranging them deftly in the vase.

“It’s a long story, I’m afraid, and a bit sad. You see, my husband knew Hew long ago when both of them were boys. Al spent time at the farm where Hew grew up – Long Keep Farm.

“One thing led to another when Al was a boy, and he ended up running away and joining the Army. He spent his working life there, retiring to the States eventually – which is where we met.”

Millicent put the knife down, leaning back against the kitchen counter and looked at her guest. “That’s…terrible. The poor lad was on his own?” Rosalynd nodded and said “Yes, from the age of fifteen.”

“Horrible. His parents should have been horsewhipped. However, if you two were in the States, what brought you here?”

“An old friend of Al’s passed on, and Al was his trustee. We had to come over to do right by him, and in the process we decided to take some time here. I’ve never seen anything but London for business, and Al wanted…to show me his home.”

Millicent looked disapproving. “London. Horrid place. I grew up there, in Richmond. Can’t blame him wanting to show you proper England if you’ve only been there. So, what happened after that?”

Rosalynd laughed. “The craziest set of coincidences you’ve ever seen.

“Al showed me where he grew up in Leeds – after seeing it I’m not surprised he ran away. Then we went up to Long Keep – Al remembered where it was and wanted to show it to me. When we did, the old gentleman who owned the farm had a letter from Hew with your address in Loughborough.” Suddenly, Rosalynd realized that a lot of this story wasn’t quite fit to share, and truncated it quickly.

“A little nosing around down there got us the folks that bought your place there, and then one thing led to another which led us up here. We finally found you through your grocer in Hawes.”

Millicent laughed delightedly. “A story fit for Hercule Poirot! Hew will be amazed – and wonder why anyone would go to such trouble.”

Rosalynd looked sad, and Millicent immediately noticed. “I’m sorry – what is it I said?”

“It’s nothing you said – it’s Al. He’s the reason we went to all this trouble – and his relation to Hew.

“The thing is – Al is Hew’s cousin. His mother and Hew’s Dad were family. I’m sorry – I should have said that up front. As far as Al knows, Hew is the only family he has left who might actually remember him.”

At that time the kettle whistled, and Millicent turned away, fussing at the counter as she poured water into the teapot, dumped it, then added the leaves and filled the pot. Setting it on a tray under a cozy and adding cups and condiments, Millicent turned back to the table, and Rosalynd was distressed to see her hostess’ eyes shining.

“I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll go wait in the car for Al-“ Rosalynd said, as she began to rise from the chair.

Millicent waved her back into her chair. “Please, heavens, no – don’t leave. I should be the one apologizing. It’s a powerful story – long-lost lad comes back to find family. It’s been what – forty years?”

“Fifty or more from what Al says. He was at Long Keep summers as a kid – Hew’s Dad took him in I suspect to get him away from that mess in Leeds. Al remembers it vividly – and we drove up there from Halifax to see the place. That’s when we ran into the folks that bought it from Hew’s Dad…and the rest is history.”

Millicent poured the tea, and she and Rosalynd sat, silent for a moment. Finally Millicent looked at the time and said “Where IS that man! He gets to tinkering with that damn old Landy of his and he loses track of time. I swear, that old car is going to be the death of him.”

Rosalynd looked up, startled. “What did you say?”

“I said that man of mine’s working on his old Land-Rover - it’s broken down on him again. I swear the damn thing won’t go a week without a breakdown – it’s horrid.”

Millicent looked alarmed as her guest broke out in gales of laughter. As she laughed, Rosalynd held up a finger in a ‘wait’ sign, until she could breathe and articulate again.
Reaching into her purse Rosalynd extracted a business card – one of Al’s. Handing it to Millicent, she chortled “Oh my God….they could be a while. Let me tell you why….”

Looking at the card Millicent barked in laughter. “Oh, no. Oh, dear. This could be a while indeed.”

As the door closed Al found himself alone in the yard, in more ways than one. With Rosalynd no longer there he felt alone indeed, though as always her presence in his mind was a comfort.

Steeling himself he began to walk across the farm yard till he came abreast of the shed in question. Al stood, out of sight of the open door. Two emotions warred in him – dread of rejection and a longing to see his cousin again. These two emotions battled each other seemingly perfectly matched, till from the shed came a sound that Al would recognize anywhere on the planet – the sound of a Land-Rover starter cranking over a Diesel – and not well.

The sound was harsh, and constantly interrupted – stopping and starting at little more than a second or two, then cranking for a few turns, then stopping and starting again. The sound simultaneously grated on his nerves and inspired curiousity – making Al automatically raise his aspect as an engineer.

Walking toward the shed Al saw two things – an elderly 90 in faded green paint with its bonnet open, and a beefy man in the driver’s seat attempting to start the engine. The man stepped from the vehicle, back to the door and Al’s approach. As he stepped from the car the cursing began, holding all of the sound of frustration that such an annoying problem develops in even the most phlegmatic owner.

“AAAAAAHHH! Yet Mum's got bawls and her Da loves it!” the man growled, leaning under the bonnet. A torch flickered on and the beam drifted around under the bonnet. The man sighed and leaned on the wing, obviously frustrated.

“How’s the grounding at the engine?” Al asked, completely forgetting his original mission and who the man was under the bonnet.

“Should be right, but worth a look. Good thought.” The man answered, unconcerned at the intruder. He knelt, a bit stiffly, then slid underneath the Rover after kicking over a square of cardboard to lie upon.

“Worth a look indeed. Have a check of both ends, and give it a tug to check for broken braid.” Al said, coming over and leaning on the wing away from the other man. Pulling his tactical flashlight from his pocket he dialed it up to medium brightness and began to inspect the electrical connections to the engine.

“Earth strap looks good. ‘tis is a pain in the arse.”

“While you’re under there have a look at the connection to the back of the solenoid for both the relay wire and the battery connection. Wiggle the starter as well – is it tight to the engine?”

“Good thought. Could ye pass me a thirteen-millimeter spanner? Kit’s to the right and t’ spanners ‘re in the bottom drawer.”

Doing as directed Al dug out a spanner and added a pair of pliers for good measure. “Roll out so I can reach your hand – I’ve got the spanner and a pair of pliers. Pull the solenoid connection off and squeeze it down, then put it back on. They get loose and can arc, sometimes.”

“Thanks, mate. Good idea – done before but worth a pinch.” A hand snaked out from under the car, collected the tools and rolled back underneath. Al stood to the side and shone his flashlight on the starter as the man worked.

“Want me to disconnect the battery?”

“Nay – connection t’ cable is tight. No need to bugger ‘wi it.” Clanking noises from underneath, then an expletive. Then a creaking, groaning noise as the starter was rattled again on its mountings.

Al, ever the quick thinker, said “Sounds like the hinges on yer wallet.”

Ignoring him, the man exclaimed “Sodding starter’s LOOSE. ‘Kinell?”

Al laughed. “Tighten that up, and when you get a chance replace the locking nuts. What you’ve there is a Scotsman issue.”

“Scotsman issue?” came the curious voice from underneath.

“Yes, Scotsman. I could say Yorkshireman as well – those nuts are not meant to be reused as the plastic inserts deform once used. If they’re too dear at 50p each, at least take them off and hit the top with a hammer to compress the plastic.”

“Not a bad thought for the moment. Could ye pass me ‘ammer and a bit of wood from under the bench?”

“Pass me the nuts – I’ll compress them and pass ‘em back.”

“Aye.” There were tool noises, then a hand came out from under the car holding the mounting nuts. Al took them, walked over to the bench and using a convenient hammer compressed the tops slightly. Wiping the grease off of them he returned them to the patiently waiting man, who disappeared back under the car.

Three minutes later the man rolled out from underneath, slid behind the wheel and turned the key. The Diesel chugged over on the starter lustily and several turns later lit off, the exhaust smoky for a few seconds till it warmed.

He shut it off and restarted it again, and then again. Now warm, the Diesel lit off on the first or second turn, running sweetly as a well behaved engine will.

“That’s seen ‘er right. Why did that stop ‘er from crankin’?” the man said from the driver’s seat.

“Simple – grounding. If we dismounted the starter and looked at the flat it seated on you’d see pits from arcing. Next you have the starter off a bit of emery wouldn’t hurt the mating surfaces – or add a ground wire from the battery to the starter bolt.”

“Aye, I can do that. Not a bad idea to add the earth wire as well – the ones there ‘re a wee bit manky.”

The man climbed out from behind the wheel – and he and Al came face to face. The man stopped and stared, and a series of expressions crossed his face. From an intent look, to confusion, then disbelief and finally incredulity his expressions changed, till he said one word.

“Al?”

“Hew? Is it you, lad?” Al choked up and the words came out as a croak though he'd known who he was speaking with all along.

Hew stood dumbstruck – the name he’d uttered having taken all of his will. Finally, he too croaked out “Is it really you?”

“None other, Hew. It’s been too long.” Suddenly, Hew reached out and grabbed Al, crushing him in a bear hug. Al reached to him as well, and they stood for a long moment, holding each other as they had at their last parting, so many years ago.

In the house Rosalynd stopped, and with a concerned look Millicent asked, “Are you all right?”

Rosalynd took a tissue from her purse and blotted her eyes. “More than all right.”
"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

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Chapter 31:

Hew released Al, and with his hands on Al’s shoulders held him at arm’s length.

“What….how..when…why?” he stuttered, obviously trying to ask twenty questions at once and failing dismally. Al laughed gently, and with his own voice none too steady said “Patience. All will be answered in time. However, I think a cuppa is in order, don’t you?”

Nodding mutely he let Al’s shoulders go, and together they turned from the Land-Rover and left the barn.

“How long has i’been?” Hew asked, as they went.

“Half century, meduck. Many long, weary years indeed. I’ve thought of you often, but...life too often got in the way. I was a soldier, and having the time to look up family was not in the cards.”

Hew nodded. “Though of you as well, old cock. When t’ were changes, thought of you and wondered where you were. T’ was bad, was it?”

“Aye, that t’ was. I had to go.” Al nodded, the pain in his voice evident. “We’ll talk of it - not now. Now is a happy time. You have to introduce me to the lady of the house. She’s likely fomenting mischief with my wife at present.”

“You’re married? Children?” Hew asked, the stunning revelation beginning to wear off.

“None of mine. She has three, all grown, from her first marriage. Back in America, they are - and ’tis where I live, now.”

“So, an American, now, are ye? Whereabouts?” Hew asked, automatically. His mind still spun, but this talk of trivialities was comforting. The real questions would come later, but this was good, for now.

Al laughed, enjoying the talk. “Dual citizenship, actually. I have not renounced Queen and Country, meduck. We live in a small town outside of Minneapolis - a place called Maple Grove. We live next to a lake, and it’s lovely there - many trees, and open land. Not the same as here, but beautiful, too.” As he spoke, a sneaking plan began to form in his mind and the Sergeant-Major chuckled in his gunroom as Al contemplated it.

We are going to have a bit of fun, we are. he thought as they walked through the farm yard.

Hew stopped as they neared the house, staring at the Bentley. “And ’tis yours then? All posh we’ve gotten!” he said, laughing and obviously not serious other than the question.

“Aye, ’tis mine. ’Tis part of why I’m here now - an old friend of mine passed on, and Rosalynd and I came over to settle his estate. I received a bequest - his house in Cambridge and its contents - one part of which was Victoria, here.”

Hew turned to Al, stopping, and Al did the same.

“Al, I dinna want to spoil things – but do ye need something – is that why ye’re here?”

As Hew asked this he winced – it was a hard question to ask, but one he felt he had to.

“AH, A Yorkshireman! Always afraid someone wants to dip his purse!” Al crowed.

Sobering rapidly, he continued. “No, Hew, I desire or need no more than what I have now – your company, and the time to catch up at least a bit.

“Where you have a successful farm, I have an engineering business in Minnesota. My second in command is being trained to carry it on, and runs it in my absence. I need none of your coin, but I do need your company. Is that all right?”

“Aye, ‘tis. Now let’s go in t’ house, and let me meet this fine woman of yours.”

Hew in the lead they walked to the house and through the door, shedding his wellies at the door and hanging up his cap on the pegs. Al, conforming to the house rules, did the same with his fedora. Walking through the hall Hew strode into the kitchen, bellowing

“Woman Of The House – I have brought the cousin and his wife for tea!”

As Al walked through Hew seized him with one arm, hugging him to his side. “’Tis the most amazing thing, Mill – ‘tis my cousin Al back from the dead!”

“Stop yer bellowin’ man – ye sound like a bull calf!” Millicent responded, laughter in her voice. “I have had the pleasure of meeting ‘is wonderful wife, and we’ve talked while ye worked on that horrid car. Did ye fix it?”

“Yes, dear, with Al’s help” and again the strong arm reached out and hugged his cousin “we did. It runs, now, and should stay that way for a while.” As he finished the sentence he turned to Rosalynd, sitting at table with a cup and a plate of biscuits.

“Al, would ye introduce me to your missus, please?”

Suddenly Rosalynd noted the mischievous glee in their bond, and began to try and introduce herself. However, Al was too fast for her.

“Dear, this is Hew Whyte – master of the lands here at New Keep Farm, conservation officer of the Dales Highland trust, and my long-lost cousin. Hew, I would like you to meet Lady Rosalynd Alexander, Lady of the Empire and CEO Emeritus of Alexander Harvesters.”

The shocked silence in the farm kitchen had a palpable quality, as if one could have sliced it to make sandwiches. However, it rapidly dissipated as Hew walked up to Rosalynd and bowed.

“Lady Alexander, welcome to New Keep Farm. Be welcome, you and your husband.”

Sensing a spike of rage Al kept his silence, and Rosalynd spoke, thoroughly nettled at her husband.

“Hew, Millicent – please, my name is Rosalynd Richer. Please call me Rosalynd. The title is one I inherited on the death of my first husband, and Al has slowly been teaching me what it’s all about. Please ignore what Sergeant-Major JACKASS here just said – please.”

“Sergeant-Major?” Hew nodded. “Explains a few things that does. Is that where you went when you left?”

“Yes, it is. However, we can talk of that later. Millicent, would you have a cuppa? I am parched, and this has been a bit strenuous.” With that, Al sat at the table, as did Hew.

As Al sat next to his wife there was a flurry of motion – and Al was smacked on the back of the head. As he sat there shocked Rosalynd shook her finger at him and in a wickedly accurate imitation of his own accent said “It’s folks like you wot cause unrest!”

Stunned, Al stopped for a moment, then broke out in laughter. Hew and Millicent, witnesses to this byplay, were silent till the proclamation about unrest, then they, too broke out in laughter.

Still chuckling, Al reached down and picked up his wife’s hand, kissing the back of it tenderly. “Yes, dear – it is truly folks like me what cause unrest. However, as you have said many time, life would be SO dull without it.”

Shenanigans over, Al was provided with a mug as was Hew. Tea was poured, Hew sipped at his mug and said “So, how’ve ye been?”
"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

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Chapter 32:

The house was quiet, as Al and Hew sat in Hew’s office. Rosalynd was asleep in a spare room, Hew and Millicent having insisted they stay over rather than return to Halifax.
“With the boys out and gone we’ve plenty of room in this old pile – place was set up as a B&B when we bought it and the land trust is run from here.” No was not a word either of the farmers would hear, and Al and Rosalynd quickly acquiesced.

Al and Hew now sat in the office. The lights were dim and comfortable, the only bright light the lamp on the table at which they sat. On its surface was a teapot and cups, and a brandy decanter and glass.

Hew raised his glass to Al and said “To tenacity, and the luck it brings. It’s brought you back into my life.” They clinked glass and cup, and drank.

“I hate t’ ask, but what happened? Ye left here that September, then we heard ye were gone. Da was angry, I remember – there was shouting when he heard – I remember it even now.”

Al sighed – this was going to be difficult. “It’s a very long story, but actually not all that complicated. As you know, my brothers, Gods rest their souls, had left years before. I was alone with them. No love, no hope – I had no choice.

“I simply packed up and ran. I had talked to the recruiters so I knew what I needed, and I forged the papers needed and lied about my age. To be honest, after that I never looked back.”

Hew nodded, and poured himself more brandy. “I have to ask – why didn’t ye contact us? Ah dinna want to accuse, but you were loved there. We cared.”

Al shook his head sadly. “I could not take the chance. Remember, I was 15 passing for 16 – and the age of majority was 21. Had I been found, I would have been dragged back to Leeds, or put into a reformatory till I was an adult.

“That would have been…unacceptable. I did not run away to end up beaten for it – or worse. And a reformatory – remember, I was a small lad and a loner – I would not have survived easily. I so wanted to, and when I first left it was on my mind for when I reached majority – but by then, I had realized that my presence would likely not be welcome because of the amount of time that had gone by.”

Hew was nettled. “That is bollocks and ye know it. None of us ever forgot ye, and we hoped ye’d find a way to reach us. Ye know Da tried t’ take ye from them?”

Al sat up and leaned forward. “What?”

“That last summer ye were at Long Keep – Da went to Leeds and had a row with yer Mum and yer Da. He wanted you to stay with us, and damned to them and their foolishness.”

“I’ll be damned. I had no idea.”

“Aye, Da fought them. Mum knew, and she was pushing for it as well. I found out after ye were gone – Da told me when I asked why you left. He told me about yer Mum and Da…I didn’t understand.”

“Obviously he was unsuccessful. What happened – do you know?”

“Aye, I do. Yer Mum was all right with it – I think she knew you’d be better at Long Keep. Yer Da wouldn’t hear of it – “By damn he is MY son not yours!” Da said he said. Nothing Da could do, after that – yer Da went for ‘im.”

Al nodded, pouring himself more tea. “I see. Makes endless sense, because when I returned there it got worse – much worse. Constant accusations of theft, demands ‘where were you’ and of course the beatings if I dared to not answer. He drove me out, or so it seems now.”

Hew nodded as well. “And so you were launched on your career. I will say we missed ye, lad.”

“And I all of you. What of your brothers?”

“Gone to the churchyard these ten years and more. I were the youngest, ye remember.
And yours – d’ye know anything of them?”

“One went to the Army, as I did. The other…just disappeared. The one I know is gone behind the Veil twenty years and more – after he retired he took to the drink, or so I found out. He died young.”

“AH, well. Nowt to be done for it – had ye known – but ye didna, did ye?”

“No, I did not. I knew nothing of them and their families till perhaps a decade ago – and by then it was far too late. They were gone, and contacting their families would have been useless. That, to be honest, is one of the reasons I looked for you – you were the only one who might have a memory of me.”

Al’s voice grew a bit rough, and he said “Gods, Hew….it is good to see you.”

“And you, lad, and you.” They clinked glasses again, and Hew spoke.

“And you, you lucky man, comes swanning in here driving a Bentley worth more than all the rolling stock on my farm and with a Lady on your arm – who obviously loves you dearly. How, you lucky, lucky, man, did you mange that?”

Al laughed. “It’s a long, long story…”
"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

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Chapter 33:

The next morning Al awoke at dawn, as was his habit. Listening, he heard nothing but the sigh of the wind outside the window, and the quiet breathing of his dam curled up on her side of the bed.

Lying there, he thought of the day before, and marveled at the sequence of events that brought them there. The journey to Long Keep Farm, the old gentleman with the letter, and the scurrying about England in the Bentley tracking down the clues.

The drive from Hawes, and the dread.

The gut-churning fear as they ascended the drive to the farm yard, and Rosalynd disappearing inside with Millicent.

The walk to the barn. The indecision. The broken car, and the camaraderie of fixing it.

Acceptance and reconciliation.

The long, quiet evening of talk, he and Hew.

Finally, falling asleep, arms wrapped around the one he loved most in this world.

Life was good.

Smiling to himself, Al rose, donned his clothes from the day before, and headed down to the kitchen. The stone walls of the farmhouse made it dead silent, and Al thought to himself wryly that even if he and Rosalynd had gotten up to mischief no one would have heard. Noting that as useful for a future time he made his way down the hall to the stairs, then down the corridor to the farm kitchen.

He was surprised to see Millicent and Hew there – the one cooking breakfast and the other reading a tablet.

“Good morning, Al! Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please, Millicent-“

“Mill, please – Millicent makes me sound like an old flapper!” She smiled, and Al acquiesced.

“Coffee, then, Mill – and if I could have a cup to take up to our room and wave under the nose of my.. wife, I’d appreciate it.” Al cursed himself quietly – he’d almost said dam – which would have led to a few awkward questions indeed.

“Black or white? Sugar, honey or turbinado?”

“White with turbinado please – both of them.”

With the efficiency of one familiar with her kitchen Mill parked a mug in front of Al, who’d seated himself at the table. Hew set down his tablet after blanking the screen, an odd mannerism Al noted.

“So, cousin of mine, what are yer plans? Hopefully not to scurry back to Cambridge today – we’ve just started to talk!”

“We will have to scurry, I’m afraid – our baggage is in Halifax, and the room we’re not occupying is not inexpensive. Can you recommend a place we could stay closer to here? I realize this is tourist season or the beginning of it, but I’d rather not have to go all the way back to Hawes.”

Hew leaned back in thought for a moment, then sipped at his coffee. “Well, Al – got the perfect place for ye – and if ye’d ever seen the brochures hereabouts for lodgings ye’d have known it.

“It’s called New Keep Farm – we’re an eco-tourist destination as well as being a working farm. We’ve a few self-catering units across the road in t’ forest down by t’ beck, as well as bird-watching sheds up here on t’ high fell. T’ units down below were sheep sheds when t’ land was used for stock, and they were converted into very comfortable lodgings – very stout stone buildings as ye know from t’ weather up here.

“As Mill mentioned last night, t’ house was set up as a B&B when t’ trust bought it. We don’t rent rooms in t’ house anymore, but we do keep a few set up for visitors, and when t’ boys come home for holidays.

“Anyway, did you honestly think I would let you stay anywhere but here? This house is huge and largely empty other than t’ offices of t’ trust and t’ farm office. We’ve plenty of room and if Mill-“

“No, I CERTAINLY do not mind. Hew, the thought of saying no!” Mill looked at her husband with an exasperated expression.

“Then it’s settled. Go on down to Halifax, retrieve yer baggage, and base yourself from here to explore the Dales. Meals with us if you want, if not no harm. Be welcome, cousin, you and t’ Lady.”

Al said nothing for a moment, sipping his coffee to cover the choked-up condition of his throat. “In that case, I would most certainly love to accept for a few days. I am trying to show my wife the beauties of England-“

“Not to mention letting me shop myself stupid in some of the most fantastic shops ever.” Rosalynd walked into the kitchen and Al’s mind went into neutral as he admired his wife’s beauty.

Surrounded by family and his love Al was unsure he could survive – his joy was growing fit to burst his heart. She walked over and stood behind him, wrapping her arms around him and bending to plant a peck on his cheek.

Al stood, wrapped his arms around his wife and hugged her deeply, and she reciprocated. She could feel the joy in his heart, and she felt it as he did and returned it to him redoubled.

Hew harrumphed, to a quiet snicker from Mil.

“If you two would like to head back upstairs, we’ll happily hold coffee for you…” Hew said, and Al released his wife and sat again.

Taking another pull at his coffee he said “No, I don’t believe that will be necessary just at this moment.” Rosalynd had headed over to help Mill at the preparations, and been shooed off. Returning to the table she sat next to Al, having claimed a cup of coffee as she went.

Al held his hand out on the table and Rosalynd took it. “Later, perhaps…I make no promises.” Rosalynd blushed and feinted a slap at the back of his head, which he feigned ducking with long-practiced ease.

Hew and Mil, as witnesses to the play, both laughed. “Will ye look at the newlyweds, Mill – they can’t keep their hands off each other…scandalous.” Mill laughed, and remarked “I think it runs in the family, you rutting ram.” Continuing, she said “There’s been many a morning the lads were scandalized to find their Mum and Da having a snog in the kitchen before breakfast!”

“Go on with ye – I never did such a thing. Lies, all lies….scandalous.” Al could tell otherwise, as the happy glow of love shone from both of them.

Turning back to the table, Hew began to speak. “Lady Alexander, I were just proposing to yer minion, er husband that ye return to Halifax, fetch yer baggage, and then return here. The room ye’re in is yours for as long as ye wish, and it would give me cousin and I time to reconnect, if that suits ye.”

Rosalynd looked annoyed. “The answer is no – if you call me Lady Alexander again. My name is Rosalynd Richer – and nothing else. My idiot minion – er husband should never have introduced me that way – and I am not going to stand on my title with family. Now get your butt out of that chair, cousin of my husband, and give me a hug.” She stood and walked around the table and Hew stood. They hugged, and she released him.

“Mill – you too?”

Rosalynd walked to her and the scene was repeated, and as Al looked at them he realized what a lucky man Hew was – and he was as well.

“Now that we’ve said good morning properly, yes, that would be fantastic. If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to modify it a bit.” Rosalynd stopped, grinned wickedly, and turned to Hew.

“I’m going to be terrible to you – I’m going to leave you to baby-sit my husband for the day, and I’m going to steal Millicent to go back to Halifax with me. We have a bit of shopping to do, and I need help.”

Hew looked to Mil, and the two had a conversation with their eyes. Mill spoke afterward.

“Yes, but you need to call me Mill as I’ve asked Al to. If you’re willing to be informal then I will, as well.”

Al knew what was coming, and it took no time at all.

“Fine, then. If we’re going to be family then you two need to call me by my nickname. At home and by family and a few friends I’m known as Daisy. Please call me that.”

Hew took his life in his hands at that moment. “Lady Daisy – I do like that, actually…” and ducked as Daisy feinted a swing at him.

“Hew, you awful man – DO behave, or there’ll be no supper for you! No supper, and off to bed early with ye!” Millicent was scandalized at Hew’s irreverence.

“Will ye be coming along as well, then? Who’ll see to our guests?” Hew said as he got up and wrapped his arms around his wife. They stood as a content tableau for a moment, till Mill gently disengaged herself and punched him in the chest.

“You wicked man! Accusing your cousin and his lady of being newlyweds and saying things like that! Awful, evil man! Now sit down – I need to finish getting breakfast – the hands will be here in a bit.”

“Can I help?” Rosalynd asked, knocking back her coffee and walking to the counter.

“Yes, please! There’s a bowl of scone dough on the counter – could ye roll it out and cut it? We can bake it up when ye’re ready.”

Al chucked. “Rosalita will never believe this. Rosalynd, dear, are you sure you don’t want me to do this?”

“YOU are going to keep your mouth shut! I am as good a cook as you are, and you know it.” Turning to the sink she washed, and the preparations began.

Hew claimed Al’s empty cup and showing the dexterity of a long-married man navigated the busy women to refill their cups. Returning to the table he handed Al his, and sat with his own.

“Hands? Local lads, I take it?”

“Lads and lasses. In these parts the lasses are as good as the lads with stock and the lands – and I’ve no qualms about hiring either. I’ve trouble hiring help – so few want to stay on the lands and work them – there’s a terrible migration to the towns and the tourist trade.”

“But you work the trade as well.”

“Aye, we do – but it’s not all we do.

“We’ve a good 200 hectares – 400 acres to you city folk – and we handle it gently. Some grazing, some crop for silage and for the kitchen, and some crop for sale. The tourism pays for land improvements. I’ll show ye when we’re about today.”

As they had spoken, a half-dozen young men and women had come into the kitchen in stocking feet – their boots left outside. As they collected coffee or tea and sat Hew stood, and in a proud voice announced “This gentleman at the table is my very-long-lost cousin Al. He and his lovely wife will be vising with us and I want you all on your best behavior, d’ye understand me?”

The young folk chuckled – they’d obviously heard this speech before.

Before long food hit the table, family style. Bowls of scrambled egg, plates of meats, and baskets of toast and scones all adorned the table and the group set to with a will.

As they ate Hew briefed his staff on their tasks for the day, and Al was strongly reminded of the morning coffee and staff catch-up with Arania and his engineers. Suddenly he missed them – not the work, but the companionship of the friends who worked for him.

Rosalynd sensed it and caught his eye, sending him a pulse of love and warmth through their shared bond.

As she did one of the young women looked up sharply, and looked at the both of them.

Al wondered to himself Welsh? Lots of fey on this island, and much up here in Yorkshire. Need to be careful.

Even with the morning staff conference breakfast was quickly enjoyed, and the young folk off to their tasks as the sun grew bright in the sky. Hew, ever the proper husband, joined the queue to put away his dishes in the washer, as did Al.

Turning to Al, Hew breezily asked, “So, cousin of mine, can ye stand me company today, and let the womenfolk shop?”

Al answered sincerely. “I would like nothing more, dear cousin. Let’s be at it.”

“No you don’t. If I go to Halifax with Daisy, who’s going to fetch the lunch? That would be YOU, Hew.” Mill was not letting her husband off the hook.

Al quickly stepped up. “Mil, ducks – not disparaging the culinary skills of my cousin here, but if you like I can do so. Simply tell me what you’ll feed them and how they like it prepared, and I can easily don my pinafore and take care of it.”

With that Daisy burst out in laughter, especially at the ‘pinafore’ comment. Noting Mill’s skepticism, she hurriedly added “Believe it or not the man can cook – he’s good in a kitchen. Why do you think I married him?” This caught her a withering glance from Al as he awaited Mill’s response.

Mill was still uncertain. “Are you sure? It’s nothing worrisome – some pasties that need to go in the oven before noon and be warmed through, and platters of bread, cheese, pickles and such that get set out. They’ll be in as suits them, so all you need to do is set it out and stand back.”

Daisy laughed. “Hun, trust me between the two of ‘em they can handle it. Now let’s get ready and get out of here – I have shopping to do and I need a partner in crime.”

“Oh, very well then – worst to worst they can come in and graze – but the kitchen will be horrendous afterward. Let me start the dishes going and then we can be off.”

Taking that as their cue to exit, Al and Hew moved to the door.

“Have ye nowt but those fancy boots?” Hew asked, pointing to Al’s riding boots.

“Unless you are referring to my dress oxfords, no this is all I have. And the oxfords are currently in my baggage in Halifax.”

Hew looked disgusted. “Go in t’ house and tell yer wife to buy ye a pair of wellies while she’s out. If shop they will let them buy owt that’s useful.”

“Will do.” Re-entering, he asked Rosalynd to buy him wellington boots, and she laughed delightedly. “I suppose I should get a pair as well?”

“If we will be here for a few days I might suggest it beneficial. This is a farm, after all, and farms mean animals…and animal droppings.”

“And that is supposed to scare me…why?” She looked at him amusedly, with a look that pointedly reminded him who and what she was.

“I did not suggest it should frighten you, dear – but I would hate to see you muck up the lovely boots you’re wearing. They do make your calves look…quite alluring.”

Rosalynd laughed again, the verbal score accepted and appreciated. “On that note, then, I’ll let you get away with it. Go on – Hew’s waiting for you and no doubt eagerly awaiting introducing you to the joys of crutching sheep and shoveling out stalls.”

“While I have no doubt he is capable of just that, I somehow think his days of clearing stalls and shoveling muck are long past. The lads and lasses they have working for them look very competent. However, I will move on – I would hate to detain you from emptying my wallet and filling the boot of the poor Bentley.”

“Why the hell do I need your wallet? Got one of my own…and I know how to use it.”

“Far too true.” He stopped for a second, and said “Other than retrieving our baggage what is the agenda for today?”

She pursed her lips and thought a second, then spoke slowly, as though she were analyzing her thoughts. “Agenda is clothing. I love what I’ve been wearing, but as you say I need street clothes. Talking to Mill and getting a feel for her she’s got the sense to help me do what I need – and at least keep me from making stupid-tourist mistakes. If you are going to insist on introducing me as Lady Alexander – and we’re going to talk about that, asshole – then I need to learn to look the part.”

Al nodded. “Very good. Mill was a City girl – so I have no doubt she’s got good fashion sense. Have fun – and don’t forget those wellies.” He crossed the room to his wife, and they hugged deeply. Releasing her he headed for the door again.

Outside Hew chided him. “Thought ye decided to head back upstairs! No time for that, lad – got things to do and people to see to.”

With that they walked out to the machine shed and climbed into the Land-Rover. Al turned to Hew and asked, “As I just asked my darling wife, what is the agenda for today?”

Hew bellowed back as the Rover started. “Agenda? No agenda. First ting’s a run round the farm and a chat wi’ me lads and lasses. Then we do what needs doing – and if nowt needs doing, then we walk. ‘Tis a fine place to walk – and talk. Suit ye?”

“Suits me quite well. Lead On, Macduff!” Al said, as he pointed forward.

Hearing the Shakespeare Hew laughed, then said “Forgotten me name already! ‘Tis Hew, not Macduff!” Putting the Rover into gear, he pulled it out the open door and they rumbled down the track. 
Last edited by Just Old Al on Mon Nov 11, 2019 9:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
"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 34:

The path up the hill was old, even by local standards. Worn into the base rock of the hill, it meandered up, switching back and forth on occasion when a straight run would have been too steep.

Hew and Al made good time up the path, the farmer leading the way. Al thanked his forethought on boots, as the bare stone was a bit slick under the mist from the morning. However, the going was not hard enough to make him regret the walk, at all.

Not at all.

As they walked, they talked. Friends and acquaintances mostly long gone, family, even pets were grist for the mill. Neither was particularly paying attention to the walk or the talking, but just doing as friends do – catching up.

Though a copse of trees, then along a stone wall to a corner. Hopping the wall they stopped to check the cattle pacifically grazing in the sun, then continued on.

Finally, they reached the top of the hill, and the panorama of the Dales spread below them.

Hew, no stranger to this view, walked over and parked himself on the remains of a stone wall, looking out over his domain. Al joined him – far be it for him to admit it but the slog up the hill had winded him.

Pulling a flask of water from his pocket Hew opened it, took a pull, then passed it to Al who did the same. Capping it he passed it back, and it was restowed.

Finally, Hew began to point. “If ye look down there ye see t’ farm yard and t’ road. My lands – or ‘the trust’s lands’ “ he said, the quotes being quite audible “extend all the way past t’ beck on t’ far side and take most of that copse of trees. 400 acres, and all of it cared for.”

If ye look to the right here where t’ beck comes down t’ hill, all the growth along t’ sides is new – planted by us. Erosion was takin’ t’ bed and the soil, and we planted trees there t’ slow it. Works, too – spring run-off from t’ snow doesna take the soil anymore – t’ grass grows thick now.”

“It’s interesting – when you speak of the lands you go full-on Yorkshire. I hear your Da in you when you speak.”

“As well ye should – I’ve more than a bit of me Da in me. I lived with him my whole life, and his till he passed on.”

Al nodded, agreeing with Hew’s sentiment. “You’ve done a wonderful bit of work here. It reminds me of Long Keep when you Da ran it – careful stewardship of the land.”

Hew nodded, his thoughts neatly intersecting Al’s. “Da taught me, and when he got old I took over and did t’ same. A gentleman ‘e was, and a good teacher. ‘E taught me t’ respect the lands, and t’ creatures on it. ‘E were not a man t’ treat the stock like property – they got care as best they could have.”

With that, the two fell silent, enjoying the panorama below them. After a bit Hew stirred and casually asked Al, “So, t’missus is an Alexander of AHI?”

“Yes. She ran the company for over a decade, after her first husband passed away from a heart attack. Her boy wasn’t old enough to do the job, and she ran it through some very tough times, indeed.”

“Quite a woman, that. Ye done well, lad, finding that one. I noticed t’ pendant she wears with t’ centaur on it. Is it supposed ‘be ‘er?”

Al laughed. “Yes. A friend of mine – Sterling Damhanit, the artist – made her three pendants as a Yule present a few years ago. One was the family manse – Alexander House, the second was the original AHI logo, and the third was the one she wears. It’s a fantasy from the original AHI logo as it was created – a centaur with a scythe.”

“Aye. Da had an AHI tractor after t’ David Brown broke down once too often. Hated that old David Brown Da did, but ye know a Yorkshireman and ‘is coin.”

“Oh, do tell Rosalynd that. She’d love to hear it. Quite a woman my wife is – business tycoon, mother to three beautiful children, wife and the sharpest executive you’ll ever meet.”

“Aye, ye’re a lucky, lucky man. Not bad for a sprottly lad from t’ city. She must be a sight as a centaur.”

Without moving a muscle Al immediately went to combat alert. That innocent bit of admiration had set him on edge – the Masquerade must be protected. However, this didn’t come out in his voice as he mildly said “It is a wonderful image – but sadly as you know it’s a fantasy. No such thing as centaurs, eh, lad?”

“Oh, course. No such thing as a centaur. ‘Tis a fantasy, as ye say – of course.” Standing, Hew dusted himself off and said “Walk the ridge? Can come down t’ other side and back t’ farm. By then will be time for a cup and then t’ fix lunch for t’ hands.” Without waiting for a response, he set off.

Al set off a few paces behind, dusting himself off. As he walked he called out – the call firm and sure from his mind.

Sterling, mayday. I repeat, mayday.

The response came back immediately. Sitrep.

Rosalynd may have been figured out. My cousin Hew-

You found your cousin and you didnae tell me? Arse. Prat.

Focus, damnit. My cousin Hew saw the pendant she’s wearing and seems somehow to have put two and two together.

Oh, shit. Al, I’m so sorry….

Save it for the AAR. I don’t have a lot of time here – we’re walking the hills and headed back for the farm house to fix lunch. We may need extraction and MIB intervention depending on what I turn up.

Get hold of Director Oduya. I want the mosquito twins or the English equivalent on call in case this turns sour.

Al. If I send in the troops…your cousin won’t remember Rosalynd – or you being there. Are you sure…you want me to do this?


There was a long pause before Al answered, and the answer was heavy with sadness and pain. I have no choice. The Masquerade must be protected at any cost. He will never care, and I…will survive. Now, get on it. Contact Oduya and get the ball rolling.

Will do. I am so sorry.

Can it. Get moving. Al out.
The contact faded, and Sterling was left alone with her guilt and a mission.

Stepping to the table she picked up the phone and called Ari, hands moving surely over the buttons on the tiny phone.

“Come on come on come on come ON…” Sterling fidgeted as the phone rang and rang again, then the voice of her friend said “Hi! “

“Ari, thank God you picked up. Al is-“

“…you have reached Arania Wardoff at RE. I can’t take your call right now, but leave a message and I’ll call you right back.”

BEEP!

“ArithisisSterlingcallmebackRIGHTAWAYAlisindeepshitinEnglandandIneedtocontactMIBBye.”

With a huff of indrawn breath Sterling hung up and fidgeted. While she did she thought, the seasoned combat veteran coming to the fore after the initial adrenalin-fueled message.

Need to reach MIB – Al specifically said to go straight to the director. How else can I get there? Uncle Fergus? Yes.

Preparing herself and breathing deeply, Sterling settled, and then sent out a call.

Uncle! Uncle Fergus, I need ye!

After a moment the answer came back, laden with all of the dignity and gravity that was Fergus’ wont.

And ye canna call first? I am going to talk to Tal about your manners, youngling.

Uncle, punish me as you wish, but I need information. Al has gotten into a situation in England that may involve a failure of the Masquerade, and I need to get to Director Oduya soonest. I need contact information.


The voice changed – the affectionate uncle gone and the senior mage in charge.

One minute. I am sending her contact information to you in a text message. So what is the situation in – England, you say?

Al has located long-lost family – he is there with his dam. Unfortunately, she was wearing a pendant I made for her – an image of her in centaur form wearing her armored bodice. Somehow, Al’s cousin seems to have put two and two together and come up with the idea that she actually IS a centaur – and has twitted Al with it.

Because of this Al is declaring a potential breach of the Masquerade – and has told me to get to Director Oduya with the information.

Go. Talk later. It wasn’t your fault, Sterling – seems to me our Daisy should not have been wearing that pendant as much as she did.

But-

But nothing. Go Call the Director, and tell me if there is anything I can do.


The contact faded, and Sterling picked up her phone, finding the text message with the phone number.
"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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Re: Full Disclosure

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Chapter 35:

As they walked the ridge the conversation petered out, replaced by a companionable silence broken when Hew stopped to point out some feature of the landscape.

As they walked along in the sunshine Al thought hard – the Sergeant-Major in his gunroom coming to the fore again.

Hew has made no direct accusation, or betrayed any direct knowledge. He’s made no move to show he’s seen anything that might be actionable, so perhaps this is coincidence from the pendant. Whatever I do here, I can’t give any credence to what might be an idle speculation more than anything else – a natural fascination with the exotic.

Rosalynd needs to keep wearing the pendant – if it disappears now that might draw notice. However, that thing needs to go into her jewelry box at home and stay there, after this.

For now, the next move is Hew’s. If he speaks no more of it we have no problem. If not….
and the thoughts degenerated into methods for handling the crisis from there.

Soon they returned to the farmhouse, and after shedding their footwear and hats at the door Al and Hew entered.

“What time is it?” Al asked, looking to make sure that the noon meal was prepared properly.

“We’ve time yet – plenty of time for a brew up.” Hew filled the kettle and set it on the burner, and turned to put tea in the pot.

The homey activities relaxed Al as he settled in at the kitchen table. The stone walls, heavy plank flooring and sturdy furniture reminded Al of the kitchen at Long Keep, and the association produced a sense of comfort that he only normally experienced at Alexander House, or in the refectory at RE. Good company, good smells and the comfort of the natural surroundings lulled him into a sense of happy lassitude.

At the counter Hew fussed contentedly, digging out a loaf of spice bread and slicing a few pieces, then getting out butter and cutlery to go with the spice bread. Setting these on a tray he brought them to the table and set them out, then returned to the whistling kettle.

“Perhaps I should lend you my pinafore, dear cousin. You seem as at home in a kitchen as I am.” Al jibed, having a bit of fun with Hew.

“Get out of it, then! D’ye think ye’re the only one t’ ever cook? I know me way ‘round a stove as well.”

Pouring the boiling water over the leaves he stirred the contents of the pot, then brought it and a tea towel to the table, covering the pot with the tea towel. A few minutes of companionable silence later he uncovered the pot and poured the tea, the steam rising from the cups as the strong brew hit the ceramic.

“Yorkshire Gold is it?” Al asked, though his nose told him the answer.

“Aye, ‘tis. Would ye expect anything else knowing the hard water here? ‘Tis more chalk than water from the well – the scale is not to be believed in the kettle!” Changing to a more conversational tone, he remarked. “T’ water is a problem – always ‘as been. Makes a mess of t’ circulator in t’ milk shed – need to scald it out wi’ caustic twice a year to keep t’ chiller working right.”

“Milk? Didn’t think you milked – don’t see enough head to make it worth while.”

“We’ve not got many – but t’ milk here in t’ house is from here as is what t’ folks in self-catering get. Cream, too – we’ve a wee separator in t’ milk shed and we run what we get. Most goes t’ shop in t’ village – folks like t’ grass-fed milk and unpasteurized. Doesn’t keep as long, but ‘tis fresh and good.”

“Unpasteurized? Doesn’t the Milk Products Board get on you for that?” Al was genuinely curious – given the bureaucratized nature of farming in the UK Al was surprised.

Hew laughed at the question. “If they knew they would no doubt give me stick for it. ‘Mr. Whyte, you cannot distribute unsanitary unpasteurized products per regulations so on and so forth…’” sounding exactly as such an edict would read as produced by some bureaucrat. Settling back with his mug, he continued.

“T’ would be a problem if they knew – but that’s between me and t’ village shop, ‘tis. My animals are healthy and clean, and kept that way organically. T’ milk is packaged in sterilized glass, and t’ bottles are scalded with caustic to keep ‘em clean. T’ shopkeeper does it – she gets t’ milk in billies and packages it.”

Al nodded and sipped at his own mug, then reached for a slice of the spice bread and buttered it. Biting off a piece he chewed and swallowed, appreciating the complex flavor. Returning to the conversation he commented “You always did know your business. I remember the milk at Long Keep – and us going out to the milk shed to fill pitchers for the icebox in the house. That was so good – once it’s in the carton it’s just not the same.”

“‘Tisn’t, is it. This is why we came back. I couldn’t stand cities. Loughborough was Hell – no land, just a back garden and damn-little of that.

“We moved South for Da, then after he passed on we started putting this together. Took time – and I wondered if I’d live to be master of me own lands again. Then it worked, and ‘tis what ye see now. Good lands, good people, and healthy. A blessing.”

Hew shifted, and claimed a slice of the bread and started in on it. In between bites he spoke again.

“And how is it ye ended up in a wee village in Minnesota is it?”

“That, Hew, is a very, very long story. However, the Alexanders have a grand manor – stately home and grounds – on the shores of Lake Independence outside of Maple Grove. Maple Grove is the nearest village – but a village there is a town here. It’s not a small place – size of Hawes if not bigger, really.”

Claiming another slice, Al continued. “The manor grounds are beautiful – open meadows near the house, and manicured lawns. The rest of the property is forested other than the boundaries by the lake – those are clearer.”

For a moment Al thought of the denizens of those lands both there and gone. Ialin, the Drathmir sisters, Master Prroul all came to mind. Now THAT is not a topic for conversation…MIB would NOT be pleased. Showing nothing but a small secret smile he continued.

“The lands there are like here – properly cared for. No poisons, no rough handling. Natural handling only – manure for the gardens, organic everywhere else, and landsmen who know their business and respect the land. You would love it there – it would suit the quiet in your soul perfectly.”

Hew chuckled, and sipped from his cup. “Perfect place for the centaurs to run and play, then?”

Al was shocked. The comfort and quiet conversation had lulled him into a sense of security – which had been shattered by that statement.

Oh, bugger. Need to defuse this…right now.

“If they existed, then yes, it would be the perfect spot for them. Surprises me, Hew, hearing you speculate on such things. I thought the local fae would keep you far too busy to think about fanciful things like centaurs.”

“Oh, ye know me, Al – just a simple farmer. Were I Irish I’d be leaving out a saucer of milk for the wee people on the doorstep to keep them plaguing me.

“However, I was thinking of t’ place ye live – and thinking of t’ centaurs in t’ fields.” Pausing, he sipped from his cup and Al sat rigid – wondering what he was going to come up with next. In this he was not disappointed.

Leaning forward at the table Hew smiled at Al, and Al could feel the humor in it, tinged with a bit of malice.

“I can see it in me mind’s eye. T’ were your grand Lady a centaur, with that gorgeous red hair she’d be a strawberry roan. Fine, sturdy centaur – no wasted, overbred park animal there. T’ lass who did t’ pendant knew her horseflesh - ‘tis a perfect image of her – were she a centaur, of course. No such thing, as we know.

“Family would be t’ same – no prancing ponies there. Strong, capable and virile studs, and solid dams.

“ ‘Tis a wonderful fantasy, eh?”

Al despaired, though not a whit of it appeared on his face. There is simply too much interest here – this can’t be permitted. Solid evidence or no, this speculation can’t be allowed to continue..

Acting as though the subject was of little interest Al nodded. “Oh you fanciful farmers and yer wee folk – next you’ll be seeing dryads in the trees and harpies in the hills!” he chuckled and sipped his tea. “Isn’t it time we get the pasties in the oven? Mill will not be pleased with you if the farmhands aren’t fed.”

Hew levered himself out of his chair. “Aye, ‘tis time to feed the stock. Would ye get t’ bread from t’ box and slice up a plate or two? There’s ham and cheeses and pickles in t’ larder, too – we’ll need those out on t’ table for them.”

Together, the two men prepared the food, working with the economy of motion natural to those familiar with the tasks. As they did this and the pasties warmed, adding their savoury smell to the air, Al thought furiously.

There is far more here than meets the eye. The ‘idle speculations’ he was voicing were not idle at all – he knows things that he patently should not. I suspect that Rosalynd and her pendant are a trigger – he’s seen other things, speculated about them, and then my dear dam stepped into the middle of it with a very large hoof…and now we have this.

In his gunroom the Sergeant-Major nodded gravely – apparently the speculation passed the sniff test.

What to do, though! On the one hand, he’s made no accusation or not directly, at least. Couched in ‘fantasy’, there’s nothing actionable. But…and a very large but… there is decidedly something going on here – and I cannot ignore it. The Masquerade must be protected at all costs – and there is nothing I can do about it.

Sadness flowed in his heart – to have found family, and to have it snatched away like this was vile. The risk to his dam, her children and all of paranormal society was too great to allow this to go unchecked, though.

Soon, the farmhands wandered in in clots of one or two. Loading plates with the bounty on the table they talked and joked among themselves, and poked fun at the ‘serving lasses’ who’d set out the meal.

“Terrible, terrible service! T’ mistress of t’ house is going to fire ye both! Got a dollop o’ mustard, gaffer?” one of the hands exclaimed.

“G’wan wi’ ye! Mustard’s in front of ye as it always is. If it’d been a snake it’d ‘ve bit ye!” Hew exclaimed, extracting the crock from its spot and thumping it down unceremoniously in front of him. Laughter rang out as the young man realized that the crock had been indeed in the centre of the table and he reached for it.

“Any of the rest of ye got any complaints?” Hew asked, hands on hips. Other than a round of snickering there was no answer, and he sat at his place.

As they ate the same routine as the morning established itself, with Hew speaking to his staff and they to him, establishing the tasks and challenges for the day. The talk and laughter flowed free as they ate and drank. It was a companionable time, and Al enjoyed it as much as his worry would allow.

For his part Al ate little, in between answering the needs of the help with Hew and his own unease. The problem seemed to have one and one only solution – but it was one he despised the thought of using. SO much to lose…so much to lose…

Oddly, Al noted the young woman who had watched him and Rosalynd that morning. As he'd sat immersed in his thoughts he'd caught her staring at him more than once, and hurriedly looking away every time he glanced up. Dismissing it as the reaction of a stranger at table, he continued to ruminate.

Soon lunch was done and the help were back off to their tasks. After clearing away was done and the kitchen tidied (for neither man thought it wise to face Mill having not done so) Al turned to Hew and said “Could you spare me for an hour?”

Hew looked at him, concerned. “All all right there lad?” he asked.

“I will be fine. A bit tired, and I could use a bit of a lie down. Been traveling a bit too much of late, and it’s caught up to me. Can you spare me for an hour?”

“Aye, that I can. Can’t have you paggered when t’ wife gets back – she’ll no doubt have a need for ye – minion and all…“ Hew laughed and slapped Al on the back. “Go on, get yer feet up, and I’ll run back in an hour or so.”

“Good enough. Thanks, Hew.” With that Al returned to the quiet room that he and Rosalynd shared. Removing his jacket and boots, he laid down on the bed, composed himself and sent off a thought.

Sterling?

Sitrep.

Not as bad as it could be, but not good. I do think we have a potential exposure situation here, and I am unsure how to handle it.


Al went through the situation, and the conversations that he and Hew had had on the hillside and in the farm’s kitchen.

So, while I suspect he has no physical evidence, the description of Rosalynd and her children and his unerring analysis of the terrain at Alexander House as centaur-friendly tells me very strongly that he has previous evidence – and my dear dam stumbled into it.

The connection was quiet for a bit as Sterling digested the intelligence, her spook training coming to the fore as she analyzed the evidence.

Luv, I wish I could argue with you but I am not seeing a hole in your logic. I dinna like saying this, but you need to talk to Director Oduya about this.

I do not disagree. I hope that alteration is not necessary….but I am not sanguine about that.

Oh, luv…I am so sorry. Perhaps it will all work out.
Strangely and unlike normal circumstances Sterling’s emotional state, normally evident, was missing from the conversation. Al sighed to himself – it made the conversation a bit more difficult and impersonal, but that was neither here nor there.

Very well. I will make the call, and let you know how things work out. Thank you for your assistance – it’s much appreciated.

Not a problem, luv. I hope it all works out for the best.

As do I – but I fear the best is going to be a sad, sad thing indeed.
The contact faded out, and Al was alone.
"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 36:

Moving like a man in a nightmare, Al sat up on the bed and extracted his phone from his pocket. A quick sweep and tap or two and the phone clicked, and the American-style ring started at the other end.

”Director Oduya’s office. Can I help you?”

“Yes, this is Al Richer calling for the director on a matter of some importance. Could you put me through to her please?”

”Yes, Mr. Richer – she is expecting your call. One moment, please.”

Al waited patiently as the phone hummed quietly to itself with the detritus of a transatlantic call. In less than a minute the phone clicked and “It’s Brandi, Al. How goes it?”

“Not as well as I would like, Madam Director. It seems that there have been paranormal issues here previously, and my darling dam has managed to trigger issues.”

”Give me an evaluation of the situation.” Brandi’s tone was no-nonsense – the Director was certainly in charge. To this the Sergeant-Major responded, giving a concise and factual evaluation of the situation as he saw it.

”Recommendations? You’re on-site – I trust you.” Thankfully, she seemed to be concentrating on the facts and not the personal issues, and to this Al was grateful. He wasn’t sure he could handle any more sympathy – and if this situation had to be handled…t’were best done quickly.

“Madam Director, the situation requires evaluation. There is obviously more here than meets the eye, and as I said previously there is some very obvious contamination that we stumbled into. As the farm has self-catering units and this being tourist season here, I suggest that you replace one of the renters with MIB locals, or whatever will fit the cover story. Then the situation can be evaluated and whatever corrective action is needed can be applied.”

”How do you want to handle your extraction?”

“The sooner, the better I suspect. The longer we are here the more you will have to alter with Hew and his staff…and we all know that is simply not good. Not good for them and…to be honest not good for me either. If this connection must be severed, then…t’were best done quickly, Madam Director.”

The voice on the far end of the connection was silent, with the singing of the electrons in the transatlantic call the only sound. Al dreaded the decision from the other end of the telephone, though he knew well what it would be.

The Masquerade must be protected – no matter the cost.

The silence went on, and then Brandi spoke decisively.

“You’re right – this needs immediate evaluation. We can settle this quickly.”

A lump of iron sat in the pit of Al’s stomach. He knew what the answer was going to be – a preemptive clearing of those involved. Good-bye Hew. When we meet on the other side of the Veil I will beg your forgiveness for this – or perhaps leave you alone as you deserved to begin with..

”Al, I need you to find you cousin Hew. Make up whatever excuse you need, but sit him down and ask him the following question.”

“And what question would that be, Madam Director?” They’re going to make me be my cousin’s executioner…just wonderful. I need to retire, if it’s come to this.

“Ask him what his subscription number to the PT is.”

Al was incredulous. “Pardon?”

Oh, I forgot – you read the PP. The Paranormal Times is the big paranormal newspaper over there – put out by the Times in London. Ask him what his subscription number is.”

“Director – explain yourself.” At that point the Sergeant-Major came to the fore – and he was not at all amused.

Brandi started laughing hysterically – which did neither Al’s mood nor his blood pressure a whit of good. As she continued he spoke.

“Director, I have not centred and grounded of late – and you should be glad of this. Because of it, I am unable to portal to your location – and I can scry that – and throttle you personally. Kindly answer my question.”

Brandi continued to laugh, but it was running down. Finally, she ground to a halt, and began to speak, her speech interrupted by the occasional giggle as she realized what she’d managed to pull off.

”Now, Al, don’t be mad-“

“I will be what I choose to be, Madam Director – and this attempt to circumvent my question is beginning to massively irritate me. EXPLAIN.”

After a hiccup or two she settled down and began to explain.

”This is all your own damned fault. When you called me a few days ago and you and I had a discussion about the legalities of what you wanted you were all so determined to do the right thing and not break any laws and so on – but you realized that calling on us was the best way to make this work.

“Now, I for one was not going to worry about the legalities – you weren’t doing this for anything other than the best of intentions – and if finding your family isn’t that I don’t know what is.”


“So far you’ve said nothing. Out with it.” Al was thoroughly unamused at this point.

Brandi started chuckling. ”SO impatient. Very well, then.

“I gave my staff the information you gave me and let them go to town. Without going into detail they gave me everything full stop. I could have dropped you at his gate the morning after you called me with no problems.”


Al gripped the phone tightly, as his other hand slowly beat the coverlet on the bed. None of this came through in his voice, however, when he said “And you could not or did not see yourself clear to do this for what reason?”

Now, Brandi’s voice was completely serious. “I didn’t give you the full information for a reason – and that reason was you. I know the pace you’ve set for yourself, and the fact that unlike me you are neither immortal nor indestructible. A call to your XO confirmed the amount of time you’ve taken off in the past few years – not much – and I decided that a little run round the countryside would do you a world of good.”

“Oh, do continue. I am fascinated to hear how this story ends.” Al was having none of this – if anything his irritation with this supercilious bureaucrat was increasing dramatically.

”If you had struck out and called back, I would have given you the full information. As it stood, though, the information MIB London sent you was we thought enough to get you there – and we were right.”

“Very well – but what about this comment you made about the Paranormal Times? Am I to understand that my cousin and his wife are aware?”

Brandi answered his question with a question. “I am assuming that you did not look at any para-friendly publications before you went over? Considering the circumstances under which you went over, I’m not surprised.” Her voice darkened, and Al sensed an apologetic tone in her words.

“No, I did not. Do tell.”

”New Keep Farm is a highly regarded eco-tourist destination for the paranormal crowd. The self-catering units are secluded enough and relatively off the public paths – so that people can enjoy a nature holiday au naturel – so to speak. This of it as a feral naturist location and you won’t be far off.”

Al was stunned. Rather than assuming that Hew suspected things and was pumping him for information, Hew was not-so-gently twitting him.

“So what you are telling me is that my cousin and his wife – and staff – are quite aware and that *I* was the mug here?”

Brandi started laughing again. ” When you put it that way all I can say is…yes.”

Her voice sobered again and she continued. “To be honest I never suspected that it would come to this. I seriously expected that you would spot the anomalies and figure it out pretty rapidly. I never expected it to come to this – and I wonder what made Hew twig to Daisy? The pendant…ohwaitaminute. Al, how did you introduce Daisy to Hew?”

“I will confess I introduced her by her title – one of the things that she’s been doing is wrapping her mind around that Ladyship of hers.”

”So, you used the name Alexander?”

“Yes, I did. Why…oh buggerbuggerbuggerFUCK. I did it, didn’t I?”

Al could almost hear the decisive note through the telephone. ”To be honest and not poking you with a stick – yes. Hew and his wife were aware, and when you said Alexander….that pretty well cinched it. I have no doubt that they were into the newspaper and the gossip sheets as soon as you left the room the first time – and the rest is down to Hew’s sense of humor.”

Al’s ire, which had been cooling, flared again. “It seems to me that my dear cousin and I need to have a VERY long chat about his sense of humour…and his respect of the Masquerade. What if he’d been wrong?”

”You do have a point, but to be honest as you’d put it ‘no harm no foul’.” Brandi continued, her voice becoming less glee-filled. ”To be honest I think Hew thought that you’d figure out he was aware, or that you knew he was aware and were being obnoxious about it.

“Al, I am so, so sorry that you got into a panic over this. It’s to your credit that you took the problem as seriously as you did – you’re a credit to MIB with how you got on top of this. However, that doesn’t excuse the fact that I put you in this situation – and for that I’m…terribly sorry.”


Al took a deep breath, began to speak, and let the breath out unspoken. Another, and then another flowed from his lips as his mage training came to the fore, and he calmed and centred himself. Finally, he spoke.

“Madam Director, no, Brandi. I will confess I am feeling thoroughly put-upon at this moment. When Sterling contacted you and informed you of my suspicions you should have broken cover THEN, not now. You have no idea – NONE of the pain I have been going through since I made that call – and none of it was necessary.

“Please, consider this in the future. I am not a young man, and neither is my dam a colt. At our age heartbreak can literally be fatal.”

He silence at the other end of the connection was nearly absolute. Finally, Brandi spoke. ”Message received, Al. And…you’re right. Being what I am…sometimes that slips by. You get one swift kick at my ass when we next meet.

“Now, go slap your cousin around for me. Enjoy having him, Al – family is important.”


“I will, Brandi. Hugs to the madboy, and I will call soon.” With that, he rang off and flopped back on the bed, utterly spent.

After some serious meditation to restore his emotional equilibrium he sent out a call – almost innocuous in its mild timbre.

Sterling! Sterling, ducks…need to talk to you.

After a minute she responded.

Ailean – what’s going on? What did Director Oduya say?

More the point, what did YOU know about her machinations? If you had ANYTHING to do with this….this….goat rodeo you and I are going to spend some time in a dojo – and you are going to get the thumping that you so richly deserve.

Warhorse, what the fuck are you talking about?

Do you have the gall to tell me that you have no idea what the Director did? You can’t lie to me, you know.


The connection faltered, then resumed. This time Sterling’s emotional state came though in full – and it was hurt.

Ailean, I have no idea what you are talking about. All I did was what you asked me to do, and passed the message to Director Oduya. What the hell happened?

The connection faltered – this time at Al’s end. When it returned, Al’s sadness was evident.

I should have known better. It turns out, ducks,that this whole panic is for nowt. My cousin is aware – as is his staff. I was the mug – and it was partially due to machinations by our dear Ms. Oduya. She thought she was doing me a favor and giving me an adventure – but it turned out I missed a cue…and the mess happened.

I cannot bring myself to be angry with her – her heart was in the right place….but this was badly handled.

DETAILS.


With that command (and the ire behind it) Al recounted the events of the past few hours – and the eventual reveal by the Director. As he did the spike of emotion from the other side of the connection grew greater and greater till it was a stormcloud.

Oh. Oh my word. Whatthefuck! What was Oduya thinking?

She was thinking that I would not be quite as thick as I was, nor that I would strive to embarrass my dam by introducing her by her title and full name. I can’t blame her – she meant well – but the joke went on too long. Please don’t be angry with her – I’ve made my feelings known on that point and it’s over and done with. And now…I need to ask forgiveness of you. I should have known that you had nothing to do with this…adventure.


Sterling felt the weight of sadness behind that statement and jumped on it.

Ailean…no, Al. Al, I dinna blame you in the SLIGHTEST for thinking I might be involved. I swear to you on my honour as a mage and a Marine that I did NOT have anything to do with it – I knew nothing of her game. Had I known it wouldna have gone as far as it did. I hope you know that. I canna prove this – but you know me.

Al chuckled wryly, an ethereal sound over the connection. Yes, I do know that, and I have no doubt that you are telling me the unvarnished truth. This is why I apologized – the accusation was that of an old man pushed entirely too far for one day. As I said to the Director – at my age a broken heart can kill.

Enough of that – no more recriminations.
Her voice grew canny, and a spark of humor traveled down the connection. Instead of apologizing to me, let us plan what you need to do to that dear cousin of yours for not coming out and being honest with you.

Oh! Oh. To be honest ducks I hadn’t even thought of that….you DO have a point… heeheehee…

Ailean, I dinna like that laugh…I know ye too well.

Oh, ducks, it is not directed at you. However…..a few things need to be equalized. What do you think about this?
"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 37:

Hew walked back into the kitchen and began to call out to Al, till he spotted the stranger at his table.

“And who are you and what are ye doin’ in my house?” he demanded, till the stranger stood.

Black-suited, her polished wingtips had obviously never come through the dust of the farm’s yard. Combined with the starched white blouse, cravat and Ray-Ban shades it all added up to only one thing.

MIB.

“Mister Whyte – Hew Whyte?” the stranger asked, completely ignoring the question from the bluff farmer.

“Aye, I’m Hew Whyte. And who the hell are you?” he asked again.

“I’m here to investigate some allegations that you have seen…’centaurs’.” The agent made air quotes as she spoke the word ‘centaurs’, as though it was a foreign word to her and normal conversation.

“Allegations? I dinna understand t’ question. Allegations?”

“Please be seated, Mr. Whyte. We need to discuss this.” The agent was completely impeturbable, removing her glasses and staring at the farmer with grey eyes.

“I willna sit down. ‘Tis ridiculous, you barging into my house and asking me of things ye know exist.” Hew was beginning to get angry, and at the same time worried.

“SIT DOWN. We need to talk, and if you cannot keep this civil, I will have to resort to other…measures.” Reaching into her jacket she removed a shiny object, and before the farmer could get a good look at it began to spin it across her knuckles and between her fingers, it showing a silver blur.

Hew sat, worry creasing his seamed face. With that, the agent stowed the object, the silver blur disappearing into her coat pocket as she too sat.

“We…have had reports that you have been speaking of these ‘centaurs’. Would you care to share with me what has had you speculating on the existence of these…creatures?” The agent stared into Hew’s eyes, her grey ones meeting his brown impassively.

“’Tis no speculation, and if ye are who I think y’are then ye know this as well as I do. Who’s put you up to this?”

“That…is neither here nor there, Mr. Whyte. Now, please tell me about the…centaurs.” Every time the agent spoke the name Hew could hear the disbelief in her voice. Struggling under the double burden of the upset to his worldview and the impassive stare of the agent he began.

“’Tis simple – and if ye are who ye are then ye know this too.”

“Please, Mr. Whyte. I do not know who you think I may be, but please assume I know nothing of these…centaurs, and describe them for me.”

The denial of knowledge unnerved Hew. Stammering slightly, he began.

“Nice folk, all of ‘em. Tall – two and more meters each high at the head, and mostly the size of a riding horse at t’back. Usually 14 to 16 hands at t’ withers, though ‘ve seen smaller and bigger. If ye’ve seen a horse of a type, a centaur looks t’same in t’body. Dapples, roans, black as coal to white as snow – ‘tis a magnificent sight. Beautiful folks, one and all.”

Hew’s talk skidded to a halt. The silver object had come out of the pocket again, being idly spun across the knuckles and between the fingers of her right hand as she continued to stare at the farmer. Faltering, he began again, staring at the flashing silver object as it did its intricate dance.

“ T’ front bit is like a human, but furred up the belly. Head, arms, shoulders – all human but bigger. T’ head is human, but wi’ horse ears, and t’ hair from t’ head runs down t’ spine like a mane on a horse. “

“This is interesting. Please do continue…Mr. Whyte. Where have you seen…these creatures?” She leaned back in the chair, flashing silver object still spinning completely unconsciously between her fingers.

“They’re everywhere – usually in groups as they’re social folk. Look, miss – I’ve a houseful of them across t’ road staying in one of t’self-cater houses. Come along wi’ me and I’ll show ye.”

Hew heard a sound from the corridor – and suddenly worried that Al was going to come wandering down into the middle of this. Given the situation this was most undesirable – and Hew tried to distract the agent.

“Please – come along and I can show ye – ‘tis but a minute across the road and we can take me Landy. Ye’ll not even get yer shoes dusty. Please – let’s be off there and I can answer all of yer questions.”

It was obvious that the agent saw his discomfort, and that she had heard the noise from the corridor as well. She said “I don’t know what you’re protecting, Mr. Whyte, but we can settle this here and now.” She stood, looming over the husky farmer despite her slight figure.

With a casual movement the silver object flew from her hand toward the farmer, and acting reflexively he caught it.

“Have a cigar.”

Her cold, calculating attitude held for a moment, then she dissolved in laughter, collapsing back into her chair as she did.

Hew looked at the tube in his hand. Shining silver, it was bisected by a gold band. With a gentle pull Hew opened it and extracted the wrapped cigar it contained. Labeled ‘Hoyo De Monterrey’ it smelled of high quality Cuban tobacco.

Confused, Hew looked at the now-merely-giggling agent.

“I am going to need the tube back – I use it for my finer brushes in my art supplies when I travel. The cigar, however, is yours with my compliments.” She went back to quietly giggling, amused at his reaction.

“Who….what….why?” Hew was mightily confused.

Al walked into the room, and suddenly Hew’s confusion crystallized into a dead certainty.

“YOU! This is YOUR doing!” Hew was suddenly, incandescently angry. “What is the meaning of this!” he bellowed at Al, who was also laughing fit to burst.

“What is the meaning of this? Quite simple, dear cousin. It is PAYBACK for the veiled hints about centaurs and the oh-so-oblique references to Alexander House being perfect for paranormal quadrupeds, you HORRIBLE MAN.

“I spent a fair amount of time suffering the tortures of Hades wondering if I needed to bring in MIB over that – until the Director of the US contingent informed me you were aware!”

Hew stopped speaking, an awed look on his face.

“Are ye telling me ye didn’t KNOW we were aware? Ye honestly did nae know?”

“No, I did not you horrible little man. All I knew is that I had found my family, and that I was going to have to give them up again because they were going to breach the Masquerade. Thankfully, others had better intel – and guided me to the proper conclusion.

“Please tell me you’ve not done this to Rosalynd.”

Hew was shocked, still pale from the revelations. With a shake he recovered and spoke.

“No, Mill has certainly not done that to Daisy. I was having fun wi’ye no more. I thought ye knew what we were here.” Hew looked crestfallen. “I never thought…thought ye would have looked us up as part of yer sleuthing…never thought…”

Al was stern. “Hew. Stop it. No harm, no foul. This was a silly set of mistakes and no more. All that matters is that we’re here now, and together again. ‘Tis nae anyone’s fault ye dozy git!”

“Ye’re nae angry?” Hew was uncertain.

“Nay, I’m NAE angry, but I will be if ye keep it up!’ Al strode over and hugged the other man, holding tight. Releasing the farmer, Al said ‘’Tis all right now – and no more to be said.”

“Yes, there is – who is this young woman ye vexed me with?” Hew asked, waving to the agent still trying to conquer a set of giggles.

She stood and bowed to Hew, and Al performed the introductions. “Hew, meet Sterling Damhnait, late of the United States Marines and now an artist and one of my closest friends. Sterling, say hello to the nice man and turn off the Grand Inquisitor.”

Sterling laughed, and with a shake of her shoulders her whole attitude changed, becoming softer and more personal. Shedding her jacket and tie she laughed and said, “Have ye a decent cuppa in this place, O Master Of The House?”

“That, I may have. Is Yorkshire Gold suitable to ye?” Hew asked, segueing to his affable self again now that the suit-clad threat had been abated.

Before Sterling could answer, Al asked, “Hew, could you step outside with me for a moment? I’ve a question or two for you.” Mystified, Hew silently followed Al out to the farmyard, and the quiet of the outdoors.

Al faced Hew, silent and all trace of humor gone. “One question, Hew. If you were aware, and you know of the Alexanders…to be honest you must have seen my name there as well.

“Why didn’t you try and contact me?” At that Al looked at Hew impassively, not accusing or demanding, but requesting an answer.

Hew stepped over to the bench by the door, and motioned Al to sit. Once they were both settled in the afternoon sun, Hew began.

“Been asking meself that question since I found out ye were Lady Alexander’s husband. To be honest, it makes no sense that I did nae do it. A simple email, a call to AHI…even if it didnae produce an answer I’d have known.

“In my defense, I have to say it never occurred to me. I saw yer name – escorting Lady Alexander to things, but never a picture of ye – always the Lady, but never you.

“ ‘Ad I seen ye, I suspect I would have. With just a name, though, and all the way in America and in such company…it didna occur to me that the lad I knew as a boy would be steppn’ in such high circles as that.”

He spread his hands wide, in a gesture of supplication as he looked into Al’s eyes. “’Tis no excuse – I should hae tried – but I did nae do it. I just never thought.”

Al sat silently. Hew began to speak again, but a gesture from Al stopped him.

Al spoke, quietly but with oceans of emotion under the still words. “Hew, I understand. Had I been in your shoes I would have done the same. There is no sane person who would have associated the guttersnipe you knew with the gentleman I presently am – and I do not say it at all sarcastically but practically.

“I…just had to ask. I apologize for putting you on the spot…but I had to know. Thank you for the answer.”

Both sat, absorbed in their thoughts. Then Al turned to Hew and asked, diffidently “Cup of tea?”

“Aye. We’ll speak of this again, but for now…a cuppa sounds good.”

Reentering the kitchen they heard the kettle whistling and saw Sterling adding loose tea to the pot. The kettle’s contents applied to the pot it was then covered with a tea towel to steep.

“All set then? I see no blood or bruises, so I assume that your business was done amicably. Hew, where are the biscuits? Warhorse here canna have a cuppa without a biscuit – as you can see from his waistline.” She smiled brilliantly, and Al vowed revenge.

“You and I will discuss that slanderous statement…after I have my tea. Hew, please don’t believe the scurrilous allegations this lying Scot tells you. Never trust a Scotsman – or woman for that matter.”

Hew laughed and stepped to the counter, reaching into a cabinet for a tube of biscuits. Opening them and setting them on the table, he dug out mugs as well, and the cream pot and sugar bowl.

With that, he sat down and turned to the young woman. “Miss Sterling? So, what can ye tell me of t’ gentleman who’s shown himself to be me cousin? It seems after this silliness I’ll have no truth from the creature.”

“Sterling….I warn you. Two can play at this game, Staff Sergeant Damhnait.”

Sterling smiled brilliantly again, and in his mind Al heard Al, I would never say anything bad – you know that. However, there is much from RE that can be told – which he would appreciate.

Al’s response was wryly amused. Do tell what you wish, but do downplay Ari’s aerial abilities. There are some secrets worth keeping.

Agreed. Silliness and fun he shall have, secrets no. May I?

Please do. Pour the tea first, though.

‘Pour the tea?’ Am I your kitchen wench?


Al’s smile was imperturbable. If the pinafore fits, ducks…if the pinafore fits.

You will pay for this, somewhere, somehow.

As will you for the Arthur Bell incident and a few others. I have not forgotten.


Sterling smiled brilliantly again as she uncovered the teapot and poured the contents into the mugs on the table.

“Now, ye see, Al has quite a crew working for him at his plant. I have played in his wee sandbox myself – but the one time was when Al wanted a car built for his stepdaughter…”
"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 38:

The next morning dawned brilliantly. Al had been up at dawn, collected a cup of coffee and a buss from the lady of the house, and had adjourned to the farmyard. Finding a spot facing east he awaited the dawn, and was not disappointed.

The sky pinkened, then turned to a rose colour before fading to the blue of a clear sky as the Sun peered above the hill.

“ ‘Tis quite a sight. I never tire of it.” a voice said behind him. Turning, he saw his cousin, attired for work. Behind him he saw the hands filing up the drive or parking their bicycles in the farm yard.

“Breakfast soon. Will ye be coming in?” Al went to agree, then examined his cousin more closely with senses unique to him and a few other mages. There was something…off…a hesitancy.

“Hew, I will if you tell me what’s troubling you. I can sense something amiss between us. What have I done?”

Hew looked shocked, then recovered. “Ah. Intelligence gathering, eh? Much like your friend yesterday – a Grand Inquisitor to the tips of her toes. ‘Ad me going she did, till she threw me the cigar tube. Evil woman.” Hew grinned.

“Yes, and you were as smitten as I was the first time I met her. Then, she was in the company of two other lovely ladies – one a supermodel. Rosalynd was none too pleased with me that day, though the ladies had stopped by to hire my services.”

Hew stared, then guffawed, startling the birds in the trees. “A grand tale, lad, but ‘tis a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

Affronted, Al replied. “Strewth. One lady was named Georgette Sundahl, the other was a lass named Monica Villareal and the third you met yesterday. They came to use my facility for some weapons work – I do quite a lot in that line. Feel free to ask Rosalynd – she will confirm this.

“HOWEVER, what is it that disturbs your soul? What have I done?”

Hew hesitated slightly, then began. “’Tis not you, ‘tis me. I was awake a good long time last night, staring at t’ walls. Talked wi’ Mill as well for a good long time.

I can’t get by having had ye in front of my eyes these years past – and doing nowt. ‘Tis a damn poor treatment of ye. I should have asked – and I didna do it. I’m…sorry.”

“Hew, stop it. First off, the time you had me in front of you was little – Rosalynd and I have not been together all that long. Second, as you said there are no photos of me – I refuse to allow them. That….is due to my former profession and old habit – no longer necessary, but a habit I simply cannot break.

“Third…it’s all right at the end of the day. Cudgeling yourself over this is just not on, lad.

“Now, did you say breakfast?” For emphasis Al slid down from his seat on the wall and slapped Hew on the shoulder, startling him from his reverie. “More the point, were you listening?”

“Aye, I was. I still dinna feel right about it, but…I will learn.” Together, the two men went in to breakfast.

As they entered, shedding boots and caps, Mill was putting out food and looked up angrily. “THERE you are, Hew Whyte! Get in here and help me you lazy ram!”

“Yes, dear. One minute, dear.” Al laughed hearing this – Hew’s reaction was much the same as his own when dealing with an angry female – immediate penitence. Stepping to the counter he refilled his cup and sat at his place.

“Have we seen Rosalynd this morning?” Al asked, unsurprised. He knew well she was asleep and having happy dreams, but it seemed worth the question to acknowledge her absence.

“No, Al – the poor dear shopped herself pale yesterday. We did get her well-equipped though, so it was a good day.”

“I suspected as much. Where is all of the bounty?” Al hadn’t seen so much as a bag in the room.

“Being shipped to Fen Ditton. Lady Alexander is going to have a closet full there – proper clothing for a proper Lady.”

At that a few of the hands looked up, startled from their plates. Hew grumbled, “Yes, yes, Lady Alexander…and ye can all keep that t’ yerselves. The poor lady is trying to have a holiday, not fuel the local biddies.”

With that out of the way, breakfast went as it had the day before. The talk of the day’s tasks, the laughter and good food were warming to the old man – reminders of mornings in the kitchen of Long Keep so many years ago.

As he sipped his coffee at the end of the meal, a quiet question came from the young lady seated next to him. Black hair, wiry and showing the muscle structure of farm folk everywhere she seemed to fit the scene perfectly in her checked shirt and jeans.

“Sir, can we talk?”

“We can if you call me Al. I am not gentry and I work for a living as you do.”

Rather than continue to speak she smiled and Al heard in his mind Is this a’right? I heard you and Lady Alexander yesterday, and So wanted to try talking to you.

A bit startled, Al covered for himself with a sip from his cup. Yes, this is entirely all right. What flavor of mage are you, lass? I feel a strong connection to the Earth in you.

The young woman blushed prettily, and Al could feel the pleased warmth in her emotions.

Yes, si- Al, I am an earth mage. Are ye as well? I sense an affinity to iron and metals.

You, my dear, are quite correct. I am, however, new to magedom – I only Emerged less than a decade ago.


Her eyes opened wide as she looked at him. A Late Emergent? How did you survive?

I was the recipient of the right help at the right time. One of my closest friends is a powerful water mage, and she and her cousin who is a fire mage caught my Emergence. They got me the right help, and what you see is the result.

Wonderful! The Goddess smiled on you.

Are you a witch as well? It’s not something I’ve spoken of here – too many good, solid C of E folk here that would be scandalized.
Al’s smile robbed the words of any sting, and his companion nodded amusedly.

There are many of us here in the North – too many fey and too many of the Old Religion as well. If you are here in a week we’ll be holding Sabbat and I’d love to introduce you.

Sadly, ducks, I will not. Work and family calls me home – but I will be back.

Perhaps then. Oh, dear – Hew is looking pointedly at me – I must go. Blessed Be, Al.

Blessed Be. And your name?

Alissa. I’m an Al too! I must go…the master of the house is scowling at me. Perhaps later?

Later indeed.
She grinned at him and stood, headed for the door.

After she left Hew looked at Al. “And what was that about, then? A conversation had by the looks of things and not a word said.”

Al merely chuckled and replied “Indeed, dear Hew, that is what it was. Merely subliminal. Nothing to see here, move along, move along.” At that he turned to the lady of the house and asked, “Mill, dear, can I have a coffee, white with turbinado, to wave under the nose of my slug-a-bed partner? It’s a beautiful day, and I hate seeing her waste it asleep.”

“Are you sure? Poor thing was so busy yesterday, driving to Halifax and back and the day in town.”

“Yes, I am that. If I could have a cup as well…thank you, dear lady.”

“Al…what was-“ Hew tried to interject.

“Can’t talk just now – have a wife to…awaken. Might be a bit – go on about your business and I’ll find you.” With that Al took the full cups and went off down the corridor leaving behind a sputtering Hew.

Up in their room the coffee worked its magic, as Rosalynd languidly awoke in the quiet of the room. “Morning?” she asked, as if the light might have been artificial. Sitting up against the headboard she claimed her cup, careful not to spill its contents. A sip, then a deep draught, and the sigh of contentment that went with it.

Al sat on the other side of the bed, nursing his cup as Rosalynd enjoyed hers. As always, the sight of his dam, cozy in bed in her nightclothes, filled him with a profound sense of contentment tinged with a little good old-fashioned lust.

“So what’s on the agenda for today?” Rosalynd asked.

“First, breakfast for you if the hands have left anything. It’s the middle of the day – almost eight o’clock!”

Rosalynd made a face. “Farmers and military men. You have this obscene fascination with the crack of dawn.”

“As opposed to lazy slug-a-bed centaur dams who insist at rising at the crack of noon? Shame on you – half the day gone already and here you are in your nightdress…”

“Would you rather I be out of it?” she asked, setting down her cup and sweeping her nightshirt off.

“That does have possibilities…rather interesting ones.”

An hour later Rosalynd and Al sauntered downstairs, both with an ineffably smug air. Holding hands as they entered the kitchen it took Mill very little time to figure out the cause of the delay.

“Daisy, come and sit here. Have you got your cups…oh, good.” Taking the mugs she refilled them and set them on the table, and put a cloth-covered bowl in front of Rosalynd along with a pot of clotted cream and strawberry jam.

“I saved these for you from those greedy hands of ours. Scandalous lot – eat anything on the table plates, crockery and all!” She clucked her tongue and then laughed, amused at her own silliness. “Al, anything for you?”

“No, Mill – I fed very well at first breakfast – coffee is wonderful for me. Actually, can you tell me where the best walking trails are here? I figure that after being in the car all day yesterday Rosalynd could use a proper walk, as can I.”

Mill stopped and thought, then answered. “If you want to walk the hills you can go up and walk the ridge. The views are spectacular across the fells to both sides, though it’s a bit windy. You will get in with the ramblers on the paths across the Dales – normally a friendly bunch but not always.” She thought a bit more, than spoke again.

“Do go up that way and enjoy the view, then cross the road. There’s a trail there along the beck under the trees – cool and refreshing. All on our lands as well, and not part of the paths so no tramplers. There’s an observation shed down there for the birds at the beck – spotting scope as well. Locker for clothes, too, if you feel like a swim.” She smiled wickedly, and Al got the full measure of her sense of humor and merriment.

“Sounds wonderful, though still a bit chilly for a swim. What do you think, dear?”

Rosalynd stretched back in her chair, arms overhead, and answered “Sounds damn good. Been cooped up in cars too long – need a stretch.”

Dragging his attention back to the conversation, Al said “Then finish up your breakfast and we’ll beg a canteen or bottles of water and walk. Sound good?”

“Fantastic.”

A bit later they walked the ridge above the farm. The wind was up, and both Al and Rosalynd had their outdoor jackets and hats on against the bluster.

“Al, it’s amazing here. The colours, the light, the clean wind…it’s amazing. Hew and Millicent are lucky, lucky people to be here.”

Al nodded, in complete agreement. “Hew and I discussed it – was it just yesterday? He said he despaired of making it back here before he was too old to do anything about it – but the Gods smiled on them and they managed to pull together the Trust. He said Loughborough was hell – no land – and I can see his point.”

“I can too. It’s a classic market town, but…it’s not this.” She swept her hand across the scenery, trying to emphasize her point.
“No, it certainly is not. I cannot see Hew as a man who could be content with runner beans and peas in his back garden, or a vegetable marrow. He needs the space – he’s got the quiet in his soul, and nothing but this can call to it.”

Hand in hand they walked the ridge, enjoying the spectacle set before them as if a painting from the Victorian era. Reaching the path downward they descended, stepping carefully on the bare stone. At the bottom they crossed the road, letting themselves through the gate marked ‘New Keep Farm Cottages – Guests Only’. A few hundred feet in was a parking spot with a few vehicles on it.

“Where are the cottages?” Rosalynd asked, peering about. Other than a path out of the lot she saw nothing.

Al pointed to the path. “The houses are down there. When this was set up it was to get people away from their cars and into a spot where they could see nowt but the natural world. This way, instead of thinking of visiting or shopping or what have you they think of nothing but relaxation and enjoy the place they are.” From the lot they took another path, one discreetly labeled ‘Beck Path’.

Hand in hand they walked through the woods. Birds called in the trees and the wind, so harsh on the ridge, was a faint zephyr in the tops of the trees doing nothing but lending a quiet background to the peace and tranquility.

Soon they reached the beck and began to stroll the bank, hand in hand. The rushing water added a wonderful counterpoint to the birdsong and wind in the trees – a tranquil white noise almost designed to quell the unrest in the most unsettled of souls.

A shed turned up on the right, its viewpoint surveying a clearing with a copse of trees at the far side, the beck one border and an old stone wall the last.

“Interesting. Let’s have a look.” Turning from the path they walked to the door and opened it, stepping inside. Al opened the shutters on a window, flooding the shed with light.

“Quite the setup for birdwatching – or a swim. Wonder how many people bother with suits?” Rosalynd asked, surveying the interior.

The front of the shed was shutters, presently closed and keeping the shed at a quiet dimness except where the window had been opened. A small cubby, one wall boxes with doors, stood in the corner and two spotting scopes on pedestals stood before the shutters.

“You evil man. I can hear you thinking from here – and NO we are not going to fool around here in the middle of the day. If you want to come back later…maybe.”

[div]“That, old oater, was the last thing on my mind. I thought you’d appreciate a …proper walk.”[/div]
“What the hell are you talking about?” Rosalynd’s face revealed confusion, then comprehension, then consternation. “What are you, nuts? This isn’t the time or place for me to go feral.”

Al laughed. “Oh, but it is.” Al filled in his dam on the events of yesterday, with a sincere de-emphasis of the panic he’d been in and his calls to MIB.

“So what you’re telling me is that your cousin is running a para-safe resort where people can go feral?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Holy crap. That must have been an interesting conversation to get to that point. So…I can really go feral?”

“Yes, dear. That’s what the cubby is for – store your clothes there and then come out and change. Note the size of the doors here and the floor – you’re not going to punch holes in the planking.”

With a nearly supersonic SQUEE Daisy dodged into the cubby and began to undress. Al twitted her gently.

“Need a hand, dear?”

“DOWN, Tiger. Plenty of time for that later – I need a RUN.” Within moments she stepped out naked, then seconds more saw her in all her strawberry roan glory.

“So, how do we know where we can go?”

“The safe boundaries are tagged in yellow per Hew – we talked about it yesterday.” after Sterling scared the spittle out of him Al thought gleefully. “Inside that we can go anywhere we like – he did warn me the bed of the beck was stony, and not recommended for long walks. In short, watch where you put your hooves, dear.”

“Let’s GO!” Rosalynd was practically prancing with excitement, and Al was no less excited to see his wife in all her glory.

“Walk or ride?”

“Depends on you. You wanted to run – if that’s the case I feel the need to be a spectator. We can walk afterward – and you know how I love to watch you run.”

“Works for me, soldier. Let’s GO!” Al opened the door and Rosalynd was gone like a shot, hooves thumping on the floorboards then thudding on the packed dirt of the path.

By the time Al reached the door himself and walked out Rosalynd was capering like a colt in the open field. Running at full tilt her path described circles, loops, figure-8s and wild zig-zags, with clots of turf rising from where her hooves dug into the grass.

Al walked over to the wall and sat, taking a bottle of water from the satchel he carried and taking a sip. It was a heady mixture – the bright sun, the quiet filled with the thudding of hooves, and the giddy delight of a dignified dam acting like a colt – and not giving a damn who knows about it.

Soon she slowed, chests heaving with the exertion of the moment. She wandered over to Al, and wiping sweat from her brow asked “Can I have some water?”

“No! You know better than that. Go walk in the beck for a bit and cool down, then I’ve got a cool but not cold liter for you. Go on, now!”

Rosalynd crossed her arms and glared at the human. “Really? What am I a colt?”

“No dear, of course not. However, I would MUCH rather you not get cramps or worse while we’re on holiday. Go on, now. Cool off a bit in the beck and then water. The beck is drinkable, but I’d be careful – no telling what someone upstream is spraying his fields with. And watch your step!”

“Nag, nag, nag. FINE.” Rosalynd grumbled good-naturedly, then wandered into the stream and out to the center. She was a fine sight – the sparkling water and the centaur splashing about submerged to her shoulders. After a few minutes she waded out, shook off the worst of the water and came over. Al handed up a liter bottle, and Rosalynd drained a third of it, then another third with a deep “ahhhh….” of satisfaction.

“God, Al – that felt good. Do you think we could come here with the kids? I know Buck and his brood would like it, though I’m not sure about Atsali being able to fly – it’s kind of exposed for that. It’s an amazing place.”

“I can’t see why not. All of this is rental, though I have no doubt we’d have to book well in advance. This is not an unpopular spot I have no doubt.”

“Oh, I know someone who knows the owners…I’m sure we could get a spot if we wanted it.” She grinned down at Al, and the sly glee was evident in both his eyes and his mind.

“Oh, VERY well. Force me to ingratiate myself to my cousin…the nerve. VERY well!” he huffed, meaning exactly none of it. Looking at her he realized she’d settled down nicely.

“Feel like more of a stroll, now, or do you plan on tearing up the turf some more?”

“No. Good and warmed up now – some walking sounds good. Let things warm up a little more and maybe we’ll come back for a swim. The water’s deep enough to be comfortable, and shallow enough to warm up past OHMYGOD temperatures. It was really nice.”

“I don’t have trunks.”

“Neither do I.” Rosalynd grinned saucily. “Para resort, remember? No one will give the slightest damn if they catch us in the water.”

“We will…discuss this.” Privately, Al thought it an excellent idea, but felt a need to curb his dam’s natural hedonism slightly.

“So, walk or ride? Your call, Two-legs.”

“Ride, I think. This way you can set your own pace and we don’t need to worry about me.“ That said, Rosalynd reached down and clasped arms with Al, and he vaulted onto her back. Sliding forward to her midback join he wrapped his hands around her waist and hugged himself to her. “Off we go, then.”

With that, they trotted off down the path, both content in each other’s love.
"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 39:

Walking through the woods, the pair talked of the past few days, and the futures.

Snuggled up to his wife’s back, Al marveled at the sights and the tranquility.

“This reminds me of Alexander House – the land is tranquil and strong, and the wind, sun and running water keeps it that way. Hew couldn’t do better with a clutch of mages on his payroll – even though he does have one.”

“He has a mage working for him?” Rosalynd asked, turning back to glance at him. “How did you find this out?”

“Actually, she found us. Remember breakfast yesterday when we ‘talked’? Well, it turned out Miss Mage picked us up clear as day – which is why she looked at both of us then.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. Can’t get away from anything, can we?”

“No, dear, I suspect not. Had a lovely mindtalk with her over breakfast this morning, which mystified Hew no end. Turns out she’s of my faith as well – offered to introduce me about at Sabbat when it rolls around, but I said we have previous commitments. And on that, dear…want to talk to you.” Al snuggled to his wife’s back and rested his head against her shoulder blade.

Rosalynd stopped and wrapped her arms behind her back, hugging the old man awkwardly. They stood this way for a long moment, then Rosalynd let go and turned to her husband.

“Let me guess – while this has been great…it’s time to go home?”

Al sighed, then grinned ruefully. Moving nimbly he slipped off her back and dropped to the ground, moving to a pile of stones from a tumbled wall for a seat.

“I realized it this morning when Hew was talking to his hands – I miss mine. Not the work, but the companionship of the friends I have who work for me. It sounds odd, but I miss my place. Where Hew has New Keep, I have RE – and my friends and customers. I miss them.”

She began to speak, but he interrupted.

“It’s not just that. I miss…home. OUR home, not the sad, dismal place I grew up. THAT I hope to never see again! I miss long walks at home with you like this, and Cinny and her silliness, and evenings with Buck and Rowdy when they’re about.

“I want to go home, dear. Does that sound foolish?”

Rosalynd looked down at him and smiled. “No, that doesn’t sound foolish at all. To be honest I’m feeling that way myself. I miss home. I love what you’ve shown me, and what I’ve learned and will learn about the responsibilities I hold, but we need to go home.”

Al nodded. “Too late to go tonight, and we’ll need to drive back to Fen Ditton to put up Victoria. Today’s Friday. What do you say we leave early Sunday morning? This way we can call Tirion to expect us, and head back. Be home by lunch Monday if we do that, figuring a train to London from Cambridge.”

Rosalynd nodded decisively. “That sounds great. We get to spend another day here and enjoy this glorious countryside, then back to Fen Ditton and home from there. Are you going to be all right with this?”

Al smiled, a quick infectious grin. “I can come back any time I want to. I am perfectly all right with this. Much as I’ve loved being here, I want to go to OUR home.” Standing and dusting off his trousers, he lifted himself back to Rosalynd’s mid-back and casually said, “What was it you were saying about a swim, dear? Seems to me the sun is high and a bit of a dip would be refreshing.”

“Now you’re talking my language, Two-Legs. Swim like this, or human?”

“Oh, human, of course. Much more…convivial.”

Rosalynd snickered. “Convivial. Is that what they’re calling it nowadays? Fine, then. let’s go.” With that she cantered off toward the shed.

Later, towels round their necks, Rosalynd and Al wandered back into the kitchen of the farmhouse.

“Nobody about. Mill must be busy. Is that the time? We’ve managed to miss lunch!”

Rosalynd came up behind Al, hugging him firmly from behind. “Are you complaining? Please don’t tell me you’re complaining about missing lunch when you’ve been for a few…very nice rides.” Her exact feelings on the ‘rides’ in question were quite evident through their bond, and Al coloured with the memory of their time in the beck’s forest.

“Oh, I was hardly complaining dear, though it explains why I was feeling peckish. As the lady of the house is not about I suspect that she would not be upset if we foraged a bit, eh?”

“No. Works for me. Want to put on some coffee and I’ll raid the fridge? I’m sure there’s that wonderful peasant bread in the larder, and vegies and cheese as well.”

“Good thought.”

Between the two of them a simple lunch was soon laid out, and they sat to eat.

“You’re becoming awfully domestic, dear. I fear for Rosalita’s job security if you maintain this domestic bent when we get home.” Al teased gently.

“She has nothing to worry about, and you know it as well as I do. I will say it’s nice to do for myself sometimes – it’s free not having to worry about whether someone can do something for you or stepping on toes or whatever. You do it too – while Ari is your XO I can’t count the number of times you’ve jumped in and just done something yourself – like the overhaul on Beitris – Fergus’ truck.”

“Altogether too true. When I’m taking care of MIB’s demands or doing analysis of the latest bit of insanity they’ve uncovered it’s nice to have a staff and support – but sometimes it’s good to just dive in and get back to what I know and what I do.”

Nodding Rosalynd applied herself to her lunch and Al to his – ploughman’s minus the meats in Rosalynd’s case. As they finished Mill bustled in, basket of herbs and greens from the garden in one hand and shears in the other.

“So THERE you two are!” Examining the contents of the table she nodded, satisfied. “You did as I hoped you would. Just remember – here on the farm we have one motto – ‘polite people don’t eat’. Help yourself.” Setting the basket down she drew a cup of coffee from the fresh carafe and sat as well.

“So, how was your…walk? I saw the towels – nice to see you found time to appreciate the beck. Not much of a beach there with the shingle edge, but the water is lovely.”

“Yes, it was nice. We had a good long walk, and a nice leisurely swim after that. It’s a lovely place down there – quite quiet and private.”

Mill sipped at her coffee, then replied. “Yes, and deliberately kept that way for us and our guests. There are fences up and the tramplers have no reason to be there – the ROWs and BOATs don’t run through that area. No vehicles, either – even Hew’s careful with the power equipment and that old Landy of his down there – no paths or trails connecting near the boundaries.”

Al turned to his wife, who seemed a bit confused. “The ramblers – tramplers as they’re called less than kindly and quite correctly – consider any path an open right of way whether it is an open byway or not. It’s an odd situation – no one wants to close off the traditional rights of way like the ones we walked this morning or the one we took to dinner in Halifax, but the ramblers often have no respect.”

“It’s weird. Why don’t they respect property lines?” Rosalynd was puzzled. The thought of anyone hiking through Alexander land just on a whim was entirely foreign to her!

“It’s the actions of a small, militant minority. The vast majority of them are respectful of signage, but the yobs who aren’t are a problem – especially in a situation as we have here.” Millicent replied.

“I can imagine. Is this the reason for the inner perimeter – the yellow marks?”

“Yes. Hew’s got the inner marks far enough from the borders and fences so nowt’s visible anywhere. Must keep up appearances, after all.” She chuckled and continued.

“There are security devices as well – our friends in the posh suits helped us with those. This way if anyone trespasses we know and can warn our guests to expect idiots…er, company. This way everyone is safe and happy, and the yobs are kept in the dark.”

“So, where’s the mister? I assume he’s back out and about after lunch – and I do apologize for not letting you know we weren’t going to be here. I need to have a talk with him.”

“Hew’s likely about his business – saw him headed up top to look at the animals. He’s a busy man is my Hew – takes his job as Conservation Officer for the Trust seriously.” Mill said that with no small amount of pride. That said, her look sobered a bit and she asked, “Do I dare ask – you’ll be leaving us? You just got here!” she protested.

Rosalynd responded for Al. “We’ve been in England nearly two weeks. While Al has a good second for his business and things at home will keep running without me, both of us miss home.” She reached over and took Al’s hand and he patted hers. “If you can put up with us a little longer we’re going to plan to leave Sunday morning – this way we can make reservations and get out to be home Monday night.”

Mill made a movement of dismissal. “Tomorrow, Sunday, another week – ‘tis nowt as Hew would say. I do hope you’re going to plan to come back when you can spend a few weeks with us – there’s so much you’ve not had time to see and do.”

Rosalynd grinned. “Actually we were discussing it. My oldest son and his family would love it here, and Al said things were likely needing to be booked far in advance. I told him we knew people, and I was sure we could manage.”

Mill looked stern. “Is that is it? First it’s the cousin and his wife, then the sons and daughter and their kith and kin….d’ye think I’m running a boarding house here?”

The silence went on after that – one second, then two then Mill burst out laughing. Relieved, Al and Rosalynd joined in.

“Of course there’s no problem. For a crowd, though, I think we’ll schedule one of the self-catering houses for your brood, and you two can stay up here. This way ye’ve quiet for…waking up as ye did this morning.” Mill lifted her cup and sipped, and though Rosalynd was mind-blind to anyone but Al both could feel the impish glee in that statement.

“Cheeky….keep a civil tongue in your head or I’ll have to speak to the Master about this!” Al chided, as serious as Mill had been a moment before.

Mill laughed. “And the Master would be laughing just as hard at that statement as I am, he would be.” Getting up, she went to the counter and began to prepare the herbs for hanging, along with preparing the greens for the cold store. As she worked she asked over her shoulder “That being said, what’s your agenda for tomorrow?”

“That depends on Hew and how much I can sweet-talk him. I was hoping to show Rosalynd some of the more accessible parts of the Pennine Way – any chance he’d lend me the Ninety?”

Mill mused, lips pursed. “Honestly, you’ll have to ask him but I doubt the answer will be ‘no’. There’s other ways for him to get about – we have a quad or three on the place he can use. However, that filthy old thing is his pride and joy – it will take some doing to pry it out of his hands. Of course, you could always offer him the use of the Bentley for running the stock about…” she finished innocently, then burst out laughing at the looks of consternation on both Al and Rosalynd’s faces.

“Somehow…I think I would go and rent one rather than that. I cannot think of what the carpet in the boot would be like afterward…not to mention the driver’s position with Hew’s wellies.” Al said, relieved that Mill was laughing and not serious.

“I don’t see it as a problem. I will warn you though – the tramplers have managed to get all of the BOATs and ROWs closed on the Pennine Way. Now unless it’s a paved bit, the Ninety will do you no good.”

Rosalynd asked, turning to Al “ROWS? BOATS? Considering there’s not a lake for miles what are you talking about?”

Al answered her quietly. “A ROW is a Right Of Way – a path one can walk on that is open to all. Many of them are also navigable by car. A BOAT is a Byway Open to All Traffic - in short a dirt road or path open to motor vehicles and off-road enthusiasts.”

Rosalynd looked at Al and was sincerely concerned at the stormy expression she saw there and felt in her mind. His answer to Millicent was mild, though, obviously not shooting the messenger for the unwelcome news.

“Thank you, Mill. I do think the Ninety might still be a good idea if I can find a few ROWs open. I will speak to Hew about it. Pity about the Way, though.”

“Pity indeed. The 4x4 crowd never went anywhere but the cart trail bits, and they stayed right away from the marshes.”

Mill turned back to the table. ”Rosalynd, would you mind separating the leaves of the lettuces so we can wash and dry them? I put them away prepared – this way they’re ready to serve after a rough chop.” Assenting, Rosalynd joined her at the counter and Al sat back, content in his coffee and the comfort of the company.

Late that night Al awoke startled, as a rumble of thunder pealed down the valley. Sliding out of bed, he padded to the window, bare feet making no noise on the plank floor.

Outside, a storm had rolled in. Watching the pelting rain, Al had a mischievous thought and called out.

Sterling lay in her bed, late at night. Midnight was long since past and the wee hours nearly so as she slumbered dreamlessly, snug under her quilt.

Her slumbers were disturbed, however, by a tickle at the back of her mind.

Sterling, ducks...you awake?

I am now, ye miserable Sassenach git. What is it ye want at half before the witching hour?

What's the weather there - is it raining?

Nay.

Bucketing down here in Yorkshire.

...right. Ye woke me for this?

No, for something else. Let's go play in the rain.

...have you been in the Jaimeson's again? I am NOT porting meself tae Yorkshire in the middle of the bloody night to entertain a mad Sassenach.

You don't need to. Just...come along.

Aye.


Sterling accepted the invitation, and found herself looking out of a small window in a very thick stone wall. Outside the window was primal chaos - the wind blew, and sheets of rain, barely audible through the thick walls, battered against the house.

Impressive - quite a storm.

Indeed. Now - hang on.

Hang on? What is it ye're thinking of ye daft-


With a rush, they were outside the window. The storm raged all around them, and as they turned slowly the window was visible behind them, as was the body of an elderly mage, eyes closed and face tranquil. Below was the farm yard, the vehicles glinting in the yard lights

They flew into the air, still turning, and the wildness of the storm beat about them. Flashes of lightning, sheets of rain, and the tingling exhilaration of the charge in the air. Away from the house they went, feeling the sheer power of the electricity in every bolt from the clouds.

Sterling was in ecstasy. The power of the storm, the sheer beauty of the drenching water, and the views of the earth below in the lightning flashes added up to a heady brew for the water mage. Paired as they were, she could feel every droplet sheeting past them, and could almost smell the ozone generated by the mighty bolts.

As they flew, the whole scene penetrated their minds. On the ground, in the trees and barns and underground, Life slept, burrowed, shook off droplets and reacted to, enjoyed and tolerated the storm. The bright sparks everywhere, each warm in its own mind added an exciting fecundity to the scene despite its darkness.

They flew on, down the road, past the smallholdings to either side of the road each with its joyous burden of bright sparks.

Finally, up and further up they flew, through the clouds to where the placid Moon shone its brilliance on the cloud deck. Below them in the cloud deck the bright flashes continued, lighting the deck in bursts of white to counter the grey of the moonlit clouds.

Al, how is it ye thought to do this?

What is it we're doing? I wanted to show you so you could tell me what it is.

I...dinna know. I am not sure there is a name for it - or if there is, I dinna know what it is. Uncle will know.


There was a pause, then Al responded. Let's keep this between us, for the moment.

But, Al-

I do not feel like being a Guinea pig for your uncle at the moment. Now, I tire.


In a moment they found themselves back at the window. Al shook his head in the flashes of light.

But a pale imitation of the truth, in here. Sad. Would that I could share with Rosalynd as I do with you....but there's nothing for it. I can’t gallop through a field at twenty miles an hour...each to his own.

Al turned and looked at his wife, her tousled red hair bright against the white of the sheets and pillows. Sterling could feel the love there, and the yearning to be able to share his gifts.

Finally, his attention turned back to her.

In any case, ducks....thank you for sharing this with me, named or not.

You're welcome.


Together, they stared at the storm.
"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 40:

Thudding as only a contented Land-Rover will, the Ninety pulled itself up the drive. Mud-splashed and dirty, it exuded an air of contented success at the day out.

The time on the moors had been brilliant. Al and Rosalynd had begged a refill of the picnic hamper and a rucksack to carry it in, and armed with that, water, juices and a small stack of Ordnance Survey maps had gone off to walk the Pennine Way.

Al had warned Rosalynd to be prepared to walk trails, and she’d dressed appropriately. He had as well – heavy boots, khakis, his wax jacket and fedora as a complement to her boots, chinos and matching jacket. With a stout cap pulled down over her red hair she looked delectable – but Al had other things on his mind for the day.

Back to Hawes, they’d picked up the Pennine Way there. Parking in town they picked up the path, walking past where they’d had lunch a few days before.

“Where are we headed, Al?”

“About a 10-mile jaunt on foot. Circular path that will end us up back here. Lots of scenery, lots of places to stop for a rest and a cup of tea, and some lovely waterfalls to have a look at as well.”

Rosalynd grumbled. “Ten miles on two legs. You push my patience too hard, old man.”

“If you like, we can just do the tourist shopping thing here in town, have a mediocre scone and terrible coffee, then return to New Keep having seen none of the Dales but Oughtershaw. Does that suit milady better?”

“No, it does not suit milady better.” She stopped, took a deep breath, let it out and then spoke again. “No, you’re right. That will be a nice walk. I just got damn spoiled yesterday after-“

“Ah ah ah…the walls have ears. Wouldn’t want people knowing that two old folks went skinny-dipping in a beck, would we?” Al said jovially, but his eyes were not. Following his thoughts and the direction of his gaze she noted a family party close behind them. Politely, Al and Daisy stepped off the path and let them pass, exchanging pleasant greetings. With them on their way Rosalynd said “Damn. Good catch. Sorry about that – I’m off my game.”

“No matter, dear. Two miles or so this way there’s a lovely pub, and one a few miles past that and so on. The walk will not be arduous, and the breaks frequent. Let’s be off, then.”

The rest of the day had gone much the same. Walking under brilliant skies they saw the Dales as its residents had over the centuries. Rock walls surrounding fields, the distinctive two-level Yorkshire barns, and quiet lanes and streams of water unfolded to them as they walked, leading to a high level of tranquility.

In a small clearing by a waterfall Al stopped and divested himself of the rucksack. Rosalynd stopped as well and sat on a cairn of stone from a crumbled wall.

“What’s up?”

“This is a public pathway – a footpath, so public. Going to try and charge a bit.”

Rosalynd nodded, and Al slipped into a light meditative state. Performing his moves, he felt his energy levels begin to shift and rise as he grounded out the negative energies he’d collected while traveling and filled from the strong leylines beneath his feet.

As he did he looked up, a motion catching his eye.

Above him, a sprite sat on a branch, diaphanous green wings waving in the air slowly. She looked down at him, her features creased with a smile.

Greetings, traveler. Few of you refresh yourselves though the lands here are free for all. Why do you stop?

Greetings to you as well, Lady of the Green. I have traveled far, and have not been in a place where I can sup from the Goddess’s bounty. This seemed a good spot – warm and friendly. Do I have you to thank for this, my Lady?

That you do.

Then please, accept my thanks. I have only felt lands this healthy at home, where a dryad lives in one of the willows. She cares for the lands there, and my family and I are the beneficiaries of her care. How can I repay you for your care?


The sprite tittered, a musical sound. Below, Rosalynd heard nothing, serenely watching the waterfall and in a Zen state of her own.

I need no pay for doing what I do for the Goddess’ benefit. I need nothing more than your appreciation, mage of the earth – you are as much a steward as I. Sup your fill and go with the Lady’s Blessings. With that there was a blur of wings and the sprite departed, her movements as fast as a dragonfly.

Well, that was interesting. I will definitely need to tell Ialin about this when I get home. Finishing his routine he dropped to rest, hands held before his abdomen, breathing slowly and deeply. After another minute he broke mediation and walked to Rosalynd, sitting beside her.

“We just had a visitor.” he said. Rosalynd started and Al kicked himself – he should have realized how deeply she was meditating.

“Visitor? Didn’t see anybody – we’ve had the spot to ourselves.”

“Funny, that – she was sitting not ten feet from you.” Al pointed upward at the branch.

“She? Whatthehell?”

“A sprite. Normally they attach themselves to households, but this one seems to have taken this spot and the travelers who walk by as her charges. She asked me why I stopped to recharge, and she and I had a nice conversation.”

“Damn. I never saw or heard a thing.” Rosalynd was disgusted. A supernatural being and she’d missed it completely!

“Neither one of us spoke out loud – she did laugh, though, and it was a charming sound.”

“DAMN. Next time nudge me or something, willya?”

“If I had she’d have left in a heartbeat. They don’t speak to people usually – I think the fact I was drawing energy from the leylines made her curious enough to talk to me. I will take it under advisement, though. Now, shall we be off?”

Al chuckled to himself at the thought of the visit as they ground their way up to the farmhouse door. Letting Rosalynd out with the picnic hamper and a kiss, he wheeled the Ninety over to the machine shed…

To be confronted by a closed door. Trying the rollup he found it locked.

“Hmm. Need to give this thing a rinse – gotten it muddy and if I leave it this way Hew will never stop giving me stick.” Looking about, and thinking a bit, he realized there’d be a hosepipe connection over by the animal barns and a patch of dirt as well.

Parking the Ninety on the patch he turned the hosepipe on full, carefully rinsing off the mud and silt. The wheel wells and undercarriage received the same treatment, and as he finished his cousin walked up, attracted by the noise.

“Now you’ve done it! You’ve gone and ruined the patina!” Hew then laughed and went on.

“Seriously, thank’ee for rinsing ‘er off. The muck just doesn’t shift without a pressure washer after it dries, where damp a hosepipe washes it off with no troubles. So, how was your day out?”

“Grand, just grand. Managed to get off onto a track or two with the 90 just to say we did, but ended up doing most of our mileage on foot. Lady Alexander is footsore, and complaining mightily about having to go long distances on two legs. She is, unless I miss my guess, sitting with her feet up in the kitchen and giving Mill a rundown of my sins.”

Chuckling, Hew slapped a beefy arm over Al’s shoulders and walked him away from the barn area. Al, to whom treating a vehicle poorly was anathema, protested.

“I’ve got to get the Ninety cleaned up and back under cover-“

“No, just leave it. Ye’ve rinsed it off and t’ mud is off, so let’s let her dry.” Together, they headed for the house, doffing hats and boots. Padding in stockinged feet into the kitchen they found Mill and Rosalynd – one puttering over items on the stove and the other as Al predicted – with stockinged feet up on a chair and a mug of tea.

Mill turned from her tasks, face reddened by steam. “Hello, Al! Daisy’s been telling me of your day out – and your visitor. Did you really talk to a sprite?”

Al looked warningly at his dam, who regarded him with a face of bland innocence. Realizing that Mill would not rest without an answer, he did.

“Yes, indeed. I was doing some martial-arts stretching and all of a sudden there she was on the branch above. Rosalynd was in meditation, sadly – she missed the whole visit.”

As he was talking to Mill he could feel his wife’s emotions – barely-suppressed glee with a strong overture of enjoyed payback. Vowing revenge, he awaited Mill’s response.

Mill nodded. “You’re lucky. It’s rare here that one will catch a glimpse of the fae folk – they keep to themselves and away from mortals unless they’ve a reason – and that never bodes well. Lucky.”

“You’ve not got a sprite in the house, here? I would have thought so, given the age of the place and how well you keep it.”

Hew made a face. “We did. Wretched, evil thing t’was and drove us to distraction till we had a mage in to convince it to leave. Took much placating there, but it finally left. Have ye such plagues in Minnesota?”

Oh, my. Oh, the stories I could tell… “We have a few, but they tend to stay to the woods and pastures and don’t bother us much. With the land being well-kept they’ve no complaints, and actually help us keep it balanced.”

“Ye’re lucky – this one was a miserable pain in t’ arse.”

Millicent turned to Hew, shocked. “Such language – and in front of Lady Alexander!”

Hew was unrepentant. ”Truer words, dear, truer words. T’was a horrible thing, and we’re better off out of it.”

Al harrumphed, and interjected before this degenerated into a donnybrook. “Hew, Mill. Rosalynd and I were discussing your kindness today and how you’ve taken us in. To try and repay a bit of it we’d like to take you out to dinner – anywhere you’d like. Is there a restaurant in Hawes, or a pub hereabouts you might like? Rosalynd is a dead shot at a dartboard, and even has her own set.”

Perfect – a bit of payback for outing me on the sprite! Al smiled sweetly at his wife and was repaid with narrowed eyes and a spike of annoyance. At that, he smiled even wider and Rosalynd, realizing his game, gave up and started to laugh.

“Another wordless conversation…there is something going on here, Mill my dear, that my cousin is not bothering to tell me. My dear cousin here is a man whose secrets have secrets.” He laughed a bit, then Mill and he had a wordless conversation of their own.

“Well, Al, Lady Daisy…” He ducked as Rosalynd parodied a swing. “I confess that there are plans afoot for dinner – and they do not involve eating here in the kitchen.”

Al looked at Rosalynd, who shrugged with a strong subtext of Why the hell are you asking me? Finding no information there, Al turned back to Hew and asked “Do tell. What have you in mind? I’m a dab hand in a kitchen, and Rosalynd has rediscovered her domestic streak…”

Dodging the slap aimed at the back of his head Al continued. “More seriously, meduck, what can we do to help?”

“Nothing at all. Everything is well in hand, and we will be eating out, so to speak.”

Pry as he did Al could get nothing more from Hew than a sense of merriment overlaying his usual good mood.

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly, the two couples sitting and talking. Many stories were told – Al sharing the madness of RE and the projects there with the other couple. Hew and Mill gave as good as they got, sharing stories of harvests, lambings and the silliness of rural life as could only be told better by James Herriott.

Finally, Hew turned to the other two. “Right. Why don’t ye go and cleaned up, and then we’ll be off to dinner in the Landy.” Noting the looks the other couple shared Hew laughed and said “Oh, very well – if ye must we’ll take t’ Bentley. I assume ye can follow directions without a map and armor support?” Hew asked Al, scowling at him as he would one of his staff who’d committed a silly mistake.

“I would expect so, provided they are above the level of ‘turn at t’ rock that looks like a ram, and turn again at t’ ram that looks like a rock’. If you can manage that I can get us to our destination.” Al proclaimed with a sniff. At that haughty proclamation Rosalynd laughed, and said “No problem – I’LL drive! Even if Sergeant-Major Stuffed Shirt can’t follow directions, I can.”

Mill looked at them and asked “Hew, are you sure this is a good idea? We can harness up the trap with one of the mares and take that – it won’t be as comfortable as the Bentley but at least she won’t put us in a ditch by trying to drive on the wrong side of the road…”

“Na, Mill – let’s trust to our luck with the colonials…t’ worst they can do is put us in a ditch – and t’is their paintwork eh?” At this point none of them could hold a straight face, and they all burst out laughing.

Hew looked at Al and Rosalynd and said “Go get freshened up – we’ll be off in a half-hour or so. Does that suit ye?”

“Quite well. Rosalynd, my love?” Al offered his hand and they left the kitchen.
"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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