The Importance of Being Drunk

A novel published by Pen Press - sample 6

By Richard Gray

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING DRUNK

CHAPTER SIX

The White House was a famous misnomer in the village of North Shailey, since it had been repainted in sand yellow when it changed hands after the war. This arrangement was harmless enough, so long as the Stamp family continued to deliver the post locally and run the little post office. The colour of the White House, and the occupation of the Stamp family, were said to be (respectively) the most interesting and the most amusing things ever to happen in North Shailey, although this was only ever said by the residents of South Shailey, and then usually only among themselves. Those of the North, in their turn, had latterly taken to likening the South to a one-horse town without the horse, an observation that never ceased to amuse them, privately. Such polite, trivial, ultimately inaccurate but utterly intractable rivalries typified relations between the two villages, rivalries fostered and maintained by the annual tug-of-war challenge between them, an event with its roots conveniently lost in the mists of time.
Edward Bland knew about such things, not least as a result of having made the treacherous move from South to North, when he vacated of the family farm with his bride in favour of the White House. The house stood above one end of the village, separated from its heart by little more than a green and a gravel path. It appeared modest enough from the front, even quaint, what with the modern extension and most of the grounds out of view to the rear. At least the front fence was still white. This bore a surprisingly large sign featuring the name of the property, erected by Edward in place of an altogether more elegant and discrete notice once the Royal Mail had insisted on centralising its deliveries. The sign also made life easier for other delivery services, and for Edward's occasional visitors from afar, although the trickle of passing tourists on sunnier days found the combination of sign and sand annoying photogenic.
"They're at it again, Mr Bland!" called Mary, as she sped from her bed-sitting room at the front of the house through to the kitchen. She spied Edward seated at the end of the conservatory, which carried the original structure of the house some distance back across the main lawn. The old man was wearing the wrong spectacles to see the approach of his housekeeper, but his hearing was as sharp as a pineapple.
"Who's at what?" he called back.
The little woman motored toward him, a feather duster in one hand, a sink plunger in the other, looking to Edward like a Dalek in drag.
"Flash-bulbs popping and all," she failed to explain.
"Slow down, woman, you'll have the tiles off the floor."
Mary arrived in front of her employer's favourite wicker sun-lounger, frowning.
"I don't know how something so small can move so fast," he said to her.
"It runs in the family," she said, innocently.
"It doesn't seem to run to that brother of yours, young Peter. How long ago did you ask him to fix that front window? And don't tell me he's done it, I know you only carry that plunger to get the damned thing to shut after you've dusted. And when he does turn up, it'll probably just need oiling or some such. Bloody double-glazing! Couldn't you have a look at it?"
Mary's frown deepened. "Oil is handyman's work. Not housekeeping. I don't mind cleaning windows, but don't ask me to fix them. And as for the intricacies of double-glazing..." She grimaced. "I'll telephone Peter later. You know he's busy with his mobile discotheque. It's not only around the villages. Peter's the first in our family to go to London. And the late nights make the mornings a bit tricky... Mother always says, you can't toast a teacake from both sides."
Edward nodded, pausing for thought. "Come to think of it, your Andrew isn't exactly rocket man, is he?"
Mary's eyes began wandering skywards in search of renegade cobwebs, while the rest of her continued to stand and address Edward.
"Ah, but he's the eldest, and eldest is always a little different."
"A little? He looks about twice the size of the rest of you, and one-quarter the speed."
"You have to remember, it's not just your garden he does, it's the church yard and the little school grounds, too. Mother says, he might be a bit slow, but that's because he's so much to do."
"Hmmm. From what I remember, she's as tiny and hyperactive as yourself, isn't she? What pearl of wisdom does she have on that subject?"
Mary looked him in the eye. "She always said that God made us short to keep us closer to the kitchen floor."
Edward dug hard to bury a chuckle under his modest collection of wrinkles.
[...continues.]

~ Excerpt (C) Richard Gray 2007 ~ Published exclusively by Pen Press Publishers Ltd, Brighton ~ See http://www.penpress.co.uk/ for information and link to Amazon UK sales.