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indriSUMMARY: Giles and Ethan, the electric Kool-Aid funky Satan groove year, in the early seventies. Rated M. Spoilers to Band Candy. Acknowledgements and disclaimers.
50.
Ripper woke when he heard the back gate open. He pulled himself as far as the window ledge and saw an umbrella below. "I'd better go and see who it is," he said, yawning. He found his jeans and shirt; Ethan scrambled for his clothes too and followed him downstairs.
They found Tom in the kitchen, standing near the fridge with a bottle of cheapish champagne and a raw chicken on the table next to him.
"How was the festival?" Tom asked, as he pulled off his wet coat and boots. "Did the rain hold off?"
"Like magic," said Ethan. "But it started to pour on the way back."
"Dee's still up there," Rupert said.
"What?"
"Only Ethan and I came back this afternoon. Everyone else has stayed on at the festival. We don't know when they'll be back."
"Well," said Tom. "I was going to celebrate. I got the job I wanted."
"We'll help you celebrate," said Ethan, looking at the chicken.
They cooked it with some difficulty. Tom had to go down the street to call his mother for advice. It was still a bit raw when they took it out of the oven the first time, but after another twenty minutes it looked edible. By the time it was ready, the champagne was well and truly gone and they were on to Diedre's stash of white wine. There was no sign of Adrienne at any point: she'd been going straight from work to her political meetings in the past couple of weeks. Ripper had barely seen her.
"What's the job?" Ripper asked.
"Graduate trainee," said Tom. "Royal Bank of Scotland. I still have to complete my degree, but if I get the marks I should, the job's mine."
"Congratulations!" Ripper said. "I didn't realise they had many staff down here."
"They don't," said Tom. "The job's in Edinburgh. My mum's not been so well, so I'd like to move back."
"I thought your parents were here."
"That's my dad and my stepmother. I am the unholy product of an Englishman and a guid Scots lass, as my mum likes to remind me every time I call. Now I've got the job back home, she may now forgive me for going to England to study."
"These mixed marriages never work," said Ethan, sufficiently deadpan that Tom looked at him askance.
"What does she think of Diedre?"
"She hasn't met her yet," said Tom. "But how could anyone not like Dee?"
Ripper wanted to ask him if Diedre intended to move to Edinburgh with him, but could think of no polite way to ask. He looked at Ethan, willing him to ask the question, but Ethan did not oblige. Perhaps he already knew the answer.
Ripper finally started to fall asleep again when they were eating icecream. He made his excuses and staggered upstairs. As he reached the second floor, he paused to look up at the final section of staircase ceiling, which Randall had only recently finished painting. He'd included many of the symbols that Ripper had suggested and he'd used glow-in-the-dark paint. Symbols of friendship, long life and goodwill glowed faintly above Ripper's head.
He went to Ethan's room. As always his eyes were drawn to the nearest pile of books. Ethan always had a very odd collection next to his bedside and Ripper wondered if he ever actually read them. The current miscellany included a history of the Hapsburgs, a travel guide to Madagascar, three paperback novels (one of dubious sort), and an encyclopaedia of snails: Ripper tried to imagine a spell that might combine any two of the titles. And then, at the very bottom, and looking rather dusty, was a copy of Living Magicians. Ripper prised it out. There was a piece of paper in it being used as a bookmark.
So when Ethan came back upstairs, Ripper was asleep with the book open on his chest to the life of Eusapia Ciccarello. He woke up as Ethan took it from him and pulled up the bedcovers.
"Why have you got a bookmark with 'Ciccarello, 131 Esplanade' written on it?" Ripper asked him sleepily. "Is that her address?"
"Might have been once," said Ethan, as he went to turn out the lights, "but she's been dead twenty years."
"She's not," said Ripper. "She faked it. She's living somewhere or other."
"Well then," said Ethan, "that might be her address after all."
They looked at each other.
"Let's get some sleep," said Ethan. "And we'll think about this tomorrow."
51.
Ethan got up at the unheard-of hour of nine a.m. and went downstairs. He made tea and toast and then sat on a kitchen stool, yawning, until Adrienne came out of her room. She was dressed for work and was putting on her watch. He passed her the toast.
"You're up very early," she said, before taking an appreciative large bite.
"God, yes," said Ethan, "but I wanted to see you and I fell asleep too early last night to catch you."
"How was the festival?"
"Unexpectedly excellent." He was unable to stifle a magnificent series of yawns. "I might tell you about it when I've recovered. But how have you been? We've barely seen you."
She looked very tired herself. "It turns out that I've been working with people who are very good at talking but who couldn't organise to get out of a telephone box."
"So you're doing all the work then?"
"Let's just say that any time you'd like to volunteer for the revolution, I'd be glad of your help."
"Actually, that's why I'm here. I'm flat broke. I've been wondering about that job you mentioned."
"It's been delayed," she said, "because some other people have been very stupid. I can't tell you when it will happen yet."
He looked out of the window, where it was still pouring with rain. "It's not really good June weather at all, is it?"
"The English winter," said Adrienne, "ending in July--"
"To recommence in August. How am I to earn my honest living?"
"I'll ask around and see if anyone's got any odd jobs."
"I'm not handing out leaflets again," Ethan said.
"Any odd jobs that might require your specialist expertise. They'll pay a lot better, for a start."
"Thanks," said Ethan, meaning it.
52.
"I'm going burgling," said Ethan. "There's no need for you to become an accessory."
Ripper had just got back from work. He'd put his guitar case down next to the bottom of the stairwell and was peeling off his jacket when he found Ethan in the rarely-used front hallway, pulling on a pair of boots. He already looked soaked through.
"No luck busking then?"
"I walked," said Ethan, "all the way to Covent Garden, entertained punters for two hours and made exactly enough for lunch. Then I walked home." He wrapped a large scarf around his face and picked up an umbrella. "So now I'm going burgling." He stepped out of the front door.
Rupert felt compelled to follow him at least as far as the porch. "There's enough food in the house for dinner," he told Ethan. "I looked. Baked potatoes, beans, that sort of thing."
"I want to go the pub," said Ethan, walking into the pouring rain.
Ripper went back into the kitchen to pick up his own umbrella and to lock the back door. He had to run to catch up with Ethan, who had marched as far as the postbox before pausing.
"Which way do you think I should go?" Ethan asked.
"Well, you probably want somewhere fairly prosperous," said Ripper.
"But not too prosperous. No nannies or maids who may still be in the house." Ethan made a decisive turn left and continued marching. "You shouldn't have brought that jacket," he said. "It's the most conspicuous thing about you after your height. Hunker down under your umbrella."
"You've done this before, have you?"
"Never."
"Surely you've been this broke before."
"Not really. My expenses have recently gone up."
They walked another few streets as the rain continued without let-up or weakening. There were very few people out on the streets. A few cars went past, making a slooshing sound through the water.
"What do you think of that basement flat?" Ethan asked.
Ripper appraised it. "No car out the front," he said, "but there are children's toys on the windowsill. There's too high a chance of finding a housewife at home."
"But the ground-floor one, that looks better? Model ship in the window, no other sign of life. Let's go around the back."
"There's a sign saying 'Beware of the dog'."
"Even better," said Ethan. "It may not have any other defences."
"You're not worried about the dog?"
"We took on a vampire the other night. I am not worried about the dog."
"That vampire almost killed me."
"Then stay out in the street and give me a yell if the pigs come."
Ripper followed him as far as the laneway that led around the back of the terraces. He watched as Ethan approached the gate and stepped through. He crossed a small lawn and went up the few steps to the back door. Then he paused. Ripper wondered if he was having trouble with the door.
Rupert quickly crossed the laneway and garden to stand next to him. Ethan had an unlit candle in his hand. "Hold this, will you?" Ethan asked him. "It's hard to light this in this weather." Then he fished in his coat pocket for a lighter. Once the candle was lit, Ethan said a few words and there was an audible click from the door.
"That's quite a good trick," Rupert said.
They stepped into a small kitchen. It was generally tidy but showed clear signs of recent occupation: breakfast dishes sat in the sink and there was a basket on unfolded laundry on top of the washing machine. Ethan went straight to a row of storage tins on the countertop next to the stove. "There'll be some cash in here, surely?"
"Wouldn't you get more for a television?"
"I'm not carrying a television around in the pouring rain," said Ethan, "and who would I sell it too? I want pub money, not a retirement fund." He shook his head. "Nothing but Nescafe and sugar in these. Maybe the cutlery drawer?"
There was a snuffling from the doorway then: the dog appeared. It was a large and elderly Pekinese. It shuffled into the kitchen. Ethan bent down and scratched it behind the head.
"No luck here," he said. "The hall?"
The hallway had brown wall-to-wall carpet and walls painted a faint blue. Ethan started with the cupboard, which turned out to be full of old coats, boots, and a vacuum cleaner. He fished around in the pockets and was rewarded with a single pound note. The dog sniffed at the boots while Ethan headed to the telephone table.
"Aha!" said Ethan, opening the drawer. He held up a roll of notes, secured together by a rubber band. He peeled off a few. "He might not even know we've been in here," he said.
They had a bit of a look at the rest of the flat. The living room had red patterned carpet, dark wooden furniture, and more model ships. Ripper looked in the drinks cabinet and found some very good bottles of scotch. He put one of the fuller ones inside his jacket.
Ethan took his coat off and sat down on the sofa. "What sort of a man do you think he is? Divorced, do you think? Or never married? Older, obviously."
"He doesn't seem to have many hobbies," Rupert noted.
"And no books," said Ethan. "I always find that very strange."
"He likes scotch," said Rupert.
"Does that count as a hobby, though?" Ethan asked. He reached down to pet the peke, who had followed them into the room. "Maybe we could take the dog with us. I always wanted one as a child. My grandmother had a black and white collie."
"I thought you were worried about your expenses," Ripper said. "Having a dog wouldn't help with that."
Ethan sighed. "Yes, I suppose. Did you have a one, growing up?"
"A black lab," Rupert told him. "She used to chase the horses."
Back in the kitchen, Ethan looked out of the window. "Coast looks clear."
The kitchen linoleum was covered in their muddy footprints. That bothered Rupert more than the actual burglary. "Wait a moment," he said, grabbing a mop from next to the fridge and giving the floor a quick wipe. Then they were back on the back porch and Ethan was relocking the door.
They walked out across the garden and down the laneway.
"Far too easy," Ethan said.
Diedre and Randall arrived back in the early evening, having hitch-hiked their way to Reading and then caught a train. No-one had seen Stan since Thursday morning, but everyone seemed convinced that there was nothing to worry about. Rupert thought of the vampires they'd seen at the festival and was rather less sure, but couldn't think of anything to be done.
Diedre evinced excitement at Tom's news. "But it's not for a year, though, isn't it?" she said. They all went to celebrate in the usual way, by going to the pub. Ethan paid his rounds with somebody else's money and an ostentatious flourish; Rupert paid for his with the petrol money Randall had just handed to him. It was difficult not to feel a little resentful that night of Randall's small inheritance and Diedre's allowance. It was what he'd chosen, though.
Adrienne joined them an hour before closing time. She looked exhausted. Rupert wanted to ask her what going on, and whether he could help, but he wasn't really sure how to talk with her any more. He still felt mortified by their misunderstanding.
"Eleven," Adrienne said, waving an envelope at Diedre. "In the post this morning."
"Eleven what?" Tom asked.
"Babies born to our classmates," Adrienne said.
Diedre asked, "Is there a photograph? Is it Gollum or non-Gollum?"
"Gollum," said Adrienne with finality.
Diedre was sitting next to Rupert, so he got a good look at the photograph. It was, in fact, rather an ugly baby.
"Do you think they grow out of that?" Diedre asked.
"Must do," said Ethan, "or half the people in this pub would still look like that." He looked around. "On the other hand..."
After last orders they made a series of toasts.
"To Tom's victory," said Adrienne.
"To harmony," said Randall.
"To success," Ethan said.
And after that, they had to go home.
50.
Ripper woke when he heard the back gate open. He pulled himself as far as the window ledge and saw an umbrella below. "I'd better go and see who it is," he said, yawning. He found his jeans and shirt; Ethan scrambled for his clothes too and followed him downstairs.
They found Tom in the kitchen, standing near the fridge with a bottle of cheapish champagne and a raw chicken on the table next to him.
"How was the festival?" Tom asked, as he pulled off his wet coat and boots. "Did the rain hold off?"
"Like magic," said Ethan. "But it started to pour on the way back."
"Dee's still up there," Rupert said.
"What?"
"Only Ethan and I came back this afternoon. Everyone else has stayed on at the festival. We don't know when they'll be back."
"Well," said Tom. "I was going to celebrate. I got the job I wanted."
"We'll help you celebrate," said Ethan, looking at the chicken.
They cooked it with some difficulty. Tom had to go down the street to call his mother for advice. It was still a bit raw when they took it out of the oven the first time, but after another twenty minutes it looked edible. By the time it was ready, the champagne was well and truly gone and they were on to Diedre's stash of white wine. There was no sign of Adrienne at any point: she'd been going straight from work to her political meetings in the past couple of weeks. Ripper had barely seen her.
"What's the job?" Ripper asked.
"Graduate trainee," said Tom. "Royal Bank of Scotland. I still have to complete my degree, but if I get the marks I should, the job's mine."
"Congratulations!" Ripper said. "I didn't realise they had many staff down here."
"They don't," said Tom. "The job's in Edinburgh. My mum's not been so well, so I'd like to move back."
"I thought your parents were here."
"That's my dad and my stepmother. I am the unholy product of an Englishman and a guid Scots lass, as my mum likes to remind me every time I call. Now I've got the job back home, she may now forgive me for going to England to study."
"These mixed marriages never work," said Ethan, sufficiently deadpan that Tom looked at him askance.
"What does she think of Diedre?"
"She hasn't met her yet," said Tom. "But how could anyone not like Dee?"
Ripper wanted to ask him if Diedre intended to move to Edinburgh with him, but could think of no polite way to ask. He looked at Ethan, willing him to ask the question, but Ethan did not oblige. Perhaps he already knew the answer.
Ripper finally started to fall asleep again when they were eating icecream. He made his excuses and staggered upstairs. As he reached the second floor, he paused to look up at the final section of staircase ceiling, which Randall had only recently finished painting. He'd included many of the symbols that Ripper had suggested and he'd used glow-in-the-dark paint. Symbols of friendship, long life and goodwill glowed faintly above Ripper's head.
He went to Ethan's room. As always his eyes were drawn to the nearest pile of books. Ethan always had a very odd collection next to his bedside and Ripper wondered if he ever actually read them. The current miscellany included a history of the Hapsburgs, a travel guide to Madagascar, three paperback novels (one of dubious sort), and an encyclopaedia of snails: Ripper tried to imagine a spell that might combine any two of the titles. And then, at the very bottom, and looking rather dusty, was a copy of Living Magicians. Ripper prised it out. There was a piece of paper in it being used as a bookmark.
So when Ethan came back upstairs, Ripper was asleep with the book open on his chest to the life of Eusapia Ciccarello. He woke up as Ethan took it from him and pulled up the bedcovers.
"Why have you got a bookmark with 'Ciccarello, 131 Esplanade' written on it?" Ripper asked him sleepily. "Is that her address?"
"Might have been once," said Ethan, as he went to turn out the lights, "but she's been dead twenty years."
"She's not," said Ripper. "She faked it. She's living somewhere or other."
"Well then," said Ethan, "that might be her address after all."
They looked at each other.
"Let's get some sleep," said Ethan. "And we'll think about this tomorrow."
51.
Ethan got up at the unheard-of hour of nine a.m. and went downstairs. He made tea and toast and then sat on a kitchen stool, yawning, until Adrienne came out of her room. She was dressed for work and was putting on her watch. He passed her the toast.
"You're up very early," she said, before taking an appreciative large bite.
"God, yes," said Ethan, "but I wanted to see you and I fell asleep too early last night to catch you."
"How was the festival?"
"Unexpectedly excellent." He was unable to stifle a magnificent series of yawns. "I might tell you about it when I've recovered. But how have you been? We've barely seen you."
She looked very tired herself. "It turns out that I've been working with people who are very good at talking but who couldn't organise to get out of a telephone box."
"So you're doing all the work then?"
"Let's just say that any time you'd like to volunteer for the revolution, I'd be glad of your help."
"Actually, that's why I'm here. I'm flat broke. I've been wondering about that job you mentioned."
"It's been delayed," she said, "because some other people have been very stupid. I can't tell you when it will happen yet."
He looked out of the window, where it was still pouring with rain. "It's not really good June weather at all, is it?"
"The English winter," said Adrienne, "ending in July--"
"To recommence in August. How am I to earn my honest living?"
"I'll ask around and see if anyone's got any odd jobs."
"I'm not handing out leaflets again," Ethan said.
"Any odd jobs that might require your specialist expertise. They'll pay a lot better, for a start."
"Thanks," said Ethan, meaning it.
52.
"I'm going burgling," said Ethan. "There's no need for you to become an accessory."
Ripper had just got back from work. He'd put his guitar case down next to the bottom of the stairwell and was peeling off his jacket when he found Ethan in the rarely-used front hallway, pulling on a pair of boots. He already looked soaked through.
"No luck busking then?"
"I walked," said Ethan, "all the way to Covent Garden, entertained punters for two hours and made exactly enough for lunch. Then I walked home." He wrapped a large scarf around his face and picked up an umbrella. "So now I'm going burgling." He stepped out of the front door.
Rupert felt compelled to follow him at least as far as the porch. "There's enough food in the house for dinner," he told Ethan. "I looked. Baked potatoes, beans, that sort of thing."
"I want to go the pub," said Ethan, walking into the pouring rain.
Ripper went back into the kitchen to pick up his own umbrella and to lock the back door. He had to run to catch up with Ethan, who had marched as far as the postbox before pausing.
"Which way do you think I should go?" Ethan asked.
"Well, you probably want somewhere fairly prosperous," said Ripper.
"But not too prosperous. No nannies or maids who may still be in the house." Ethan made a decisive turn left and continued marching. "You shouldn't have brought that jacket," he said. "It's the most conspicuous thing about you after your height. Hunker down under your umbrella."
"You've done this before, have you?"
"Never."
"Surely you've been this broke before."
"Not really. My expenses have recently gone up."
They walked another few streets as the rain continued without let-up or weakening. There were very few people out on the streets. A few cars went past, making a slooshing sound through the water.
"What do you think of that basement flat?" Ethan asked.
Ripper appraised it. "No car out the front," he said, "but there are children's toys on the windowsill. There's too high a chance of finding a housewife at home."
"But the ground-floor one, that looks better? Model ship in the window, no other sign of life. Let's go around the back."
"There's a sign saying 'Beware of the dog'."
"Even better," said Ethan. "It may not have any other defences."
"You're not worried about the dog?"
"We took on a vampire the other night. I am not worried about the dog."
"That vampire almost killed me."
"Then stay out in the street and give me a yell if the pigs come."
Ripper followed him as far as the laneway that led around the back of the terraces. He watched as Ethan approached the gate and stepped through. He crossed a small lawn and went up the few steps to the back door. Then he paused. Ripper wondered if he was having trouble with the door.
Rupert quickly crossed the laneway and garden to stand next to him. Ethan had an unlit candle in his hand. "Hold this, will you?" Ethan asked him. "It's hard to light this in this weather." Then he fished in his coat pocket for a lighter. Once the candle was lit, Ethan said a few words and there was an audible click from the door.
"That's quite a good trick," Rupert said.
They stepped into a small kitchen. It was generally tidy but showed clear signs of recent occupation: breakfast dishes sat in the sink and there was a basket on unfolded laundry on top of the washing machine. Ethan went straight to a row of storage tins on the countertop next to the stove. "There'll be some cash in here, surely?"
"Wouldn't you get more for a television?"
"I'm not carrying a television around in the pouring rain," said Ethan, "and who would I sell it too? I want pub money, not a retirement fund." He shook his head. "Nothing but Nescafe and sugar in these. Maybe the cutlery drawer?"
There was a snuffling from the doorway then: the dog appeared. It was a large and elderly Pekinese. It shuffled into the kitchen. Ethan bent down and scratched it behind the head.
"No luck here," he said. "The hall?"
The hallway had brown wall-to-wall carpet and walls painted a faint blue. Ethan started with the cupboard, which turned out to be full of old coats, boots, and a vacuum cleaner. He fished around in the pockets and was rewarded with a single pound note. The dog sniffed at the boots while Ethan headed to the telephone table.
"Aha!" said Ethan, opening the drawer. He held up a roll of notes, secured together by a rubber band. He peeled off a few. "He might not even know we've been in here," he said.
They had a bit of a look at the rest of the flat. The living room had red patterned carpet, dark wooden furniture, and more model ships. Ripper looked in the drinks cabinet and found some very good bottles of scotch. He put one of the fuller ones inside his jacket.
Ethan took his coat off and sat down on the sofa. "What sort of a man do you think he is? Divorced, do you think? Or never married? Older, obviously."
"He doesn't seem to have many hobbies," Rupert noted.
"And no books," said Ethan. "I always find that very strange."
"He likes scotch," said Rupert.
"Does that count as a hobby, though?" Ethan asked. He reached down to pet the peke, who had followed them into the room. "Maybe we could take the dog with us. I always wanted one as a child. My grandmother had a black and white collie."
"I thought you were worried about your expenses," Ripper said. "Having a dog wouldn't help with that."
Ethan sighed. "Yes, I suppose. Did you have a one, growing up?"
"A black lab," Rupert told him. "She used to chase the horses."
Back in the kitchen, Ethan looked out of the window. "Coast looks clear."
The kitchen linoleum was covered in their muddy footprints. That bothered Rupert more than the actual burglary. "Wait a moment," he said, grabbing a mop from next to the fridge and giving the floor a quick wipe. Then they were back on the back porch and Ethan was relocking the door.
They walked out across the garden and down the laneway.
"Far too easy," Ethan said.
Diedre and Randall arrived back in the early evening, having hitch-hiked their way to Reading and then caught a train. No-one had seen Stan since Thursday morning, but everyone seemed convinced that there was nothing to worry about. Rupert thought of the vampires they'd seen at the festival and was rather less sure, but couldn't think of anything to be done.
Diedre evinced excitement at Tom's news. "But it's not for a year, though, isn't it?" she said. They all went to celebrate in the usual way, by going to the pub. Ethan paid his rounds with somebody else's money and an ostentatious flourish; Rupert paid for his with the petrol money Randall had just handed to him. It was difficult not to feel a little resentful that night of Randall's small inheritance and Diedre's allowance. It was what he'd chosen, though.
Adrienne joined them an hour before closing time. She looked exhausted. Rupert wanted to ask her what going on, and whether he could help, but he wasn't really sure how to talk with her any more. He still felt mortified by their misunderstanding.
"Eleven," Adrienne said, waving an envelope at Diedre. "In the post this morning."
"Eleven what?" Tom asked.
"Babies born to our classmates," Adrienne said.
Diedre asked, "Is there a photograph? Is it Gollum or non-Gollum?"
"Gollum," said Adrienne with finality.
Diedre was sitting next to Rupert, so he got a good look at the photograph. It was, in fact, rather an ugly baby.
"Do you think they grow out of that?" Diedre asked.
"Must do," said Ethan, "or half the people in this pub would still look like that." He looked around. "On the other hand..."
After last orders they made a series of toasts.
"To Tom's victory," said Adrienne.
"To harmony," said Randall.
"To success," Ethan said.
And after that, they had to go home.
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no subject
Date: 2011-06-16 01:14 pm (UTC)Not sure if it's deliberate, but in the first part of this, Giles is referred to as 'Ripper' and in the later part as 'Rupert.'
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Date: 2011-06-16 09:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-13 02:33 am (UTC)I cracked up at this sentence. And isn't that the way it is, too.
Also loved Ethan wanting to take the dog, and Rue cleaning the floor afterwards.
As always, brilliant, and I genuinely look forward to your next installment of the more misadventures of this lively bunch.