CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE ESCAPE FROM THE SAFEHOUSE, THE MURDER OF THE LOCAL CONSTABLE AND THE BEGINNINGS OF A FAIR FOLK CONSPIRACY (PART SIX)
Continued from Chapter 11 Part 5.
I slapped a sovereign on the bar and we left the pub and she led me up Galway Street, for want of a better word, past the picture house and into Constable Combover’s home.
“This is Constable Combover’s house,” I protested.
“My father has taken it over for residential purposes. The constable was murdered last night.”
“Well, Holy God,” I said, “How convenient.”
She kissed me in the hall as we went through the front door, and pulled me inside. We went into the living room.
I took to my bearings, looking around the room. There was a large orrery of the solar system sitting on the window sill and a map of the world on the wall with all of the nations of the British Empire in the colours of the Union Jack. I looked at the vast reaches of the Empire and I thought to myself that the Brits must find it most peculiar having in possession most of the world when they can’t control what’s in their own back garden.
Melanie pushed me onto the couch and she fell to kissing me hard on the lips. Then she kissed me hard on the throat, then she kissed me hard on the chest, then she kissed me hard on the stomach and finally, after getting me all worked up, she kissed me on the knees.
I brought her face back up to my own with a strong but passionate nudge under the chin and our faces merged, and she stroked my beard with one hand and she rubbed my leg with her other hand and she squeezed my bum with her other hand and she massaged my chest with her other hand and then I stopped kissing her when I realised that she would have needed four hands to be so romantic. I looked up and I saw that she had removed her shoes and that she had hands for feet, and one of her legs was high up in the air and the hand at the end of it was caressing my hair, the other leg’s hand gently rubbing my chest. I let a scream out of me and leapt up off the couch quick as lightning. Where her feet should have been, she had a pair of perfectly healthy and normal looking hands!
“Sorry! Did I not mention that I have a perfectly healthy and normal looking pair of hands instead of feet?” Melanie said.
“Perfectly healthy and normal looking they may well be,” I sez out of me, endeavouring to regain some composure, “But they’re on the wrong feckin’ part of your body!”
“I’ll have you know that over the last six months, since my condition first developed, I’ve been studied by the most eminent Darwinists in the British Empire because of my specialness!” Melanie said.
“Specialness is what I’d call it alright!” I said in response, getting a bit annoyed that I’d almost engaged in relations with a throwback to our inferior Chimpanzee and Bonobo cousins.
I regained my cool and I sat down next to her again. I won’t say that we did anything further as far as carnal activities go, but I will say that I asked her a number of questions for which she had no answer, for she was kept in the dark about most of the business of the British Army by her father. And it seemed that the more I interrogated her, particularly about her feet, the more I was sure that a spell had been cast on her to give her feet a more simian appearance. Two hours passed before nightfall and the sound from the hall of the front door slamming shut.
Continued in Chapter 11 Part 7.