Faces in the Pool
“herd word, slang) A proposal, and it wasn’t even a Leap Year? Barmy. I trudged into town to find Tinker at the Welcome Sailor, a dingy East Gates pub. My barker, Tinker, susses antiques out by osmosis. The barmaid, Dodie from Watford, sent him out.
He came, coughing, and stood blearily in the postern doorway. ‘Lovejoy?’ he bawled. Secret as Radio One.
As always, he wore his tatty greatcoat from God-knows-what-war, mittens encrusted with food, and has corrugated teeth like a derelict gra...veyard. My one loyal helper – Lydia excepted. Beggars can’t, can they?
He cackled a laugh. ‘Getting wed, eh? Want the herd word?’ He swigged with relish from a bottle of unspeakable liquid. ‘They say Ted Moon killt some lass. Habby corpy got him off.’ Habeas corpus. ‘His wife Laura got the lottery and a Lincoln bint owffed him from Stanstead on the great white bird.’ ‘I heard he’s in Derby. Did Laura and Ted live near here?’ ‘Fellinsham, down Salcott-cum-Varley.MoreLess
He came, coughing, and stood blearily in the postern doorway. ‘Lovejoy?’ he bawled. Secret as Radio One.
As always, he wore his tatty greatcoat from God-knows-what-war, mittens encrusted with food, and has corrugated teeth like a derelict gra...veyard. My one loyal helper – Lydia excepted. Beggars can’t, can they?
He cackled a laugh. ‘Getting wed, eh? Want the herd word?’ He swigged with relish from a bottle of unspeakable liquid. ‘They say Ted Moon killt some lass. Habby corpy got him off.’ Habeas corpus. ‘His wife Laura got the lottery and a Lincoln bint owffed him from Stanstead on the great white bird.’ ‘I heard he’s in Derby. Did Laura and Ted live near here?’ ‘Fellinsham, down Salcott-cum-Varley.MoreLess
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