CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN: A VISIT FROM AN ARCH ENEMY?
We left Dyll’s apartment within a half of an hour, and we returned a full twenty hours later, after a day of fun and frolics. Being on terms enough with Dyll to keep a spare leg in her house, my cousin Barney was actually better acquaintered with her than I had ever been, having been only charged with having to impart the details of the death of her paramour, Eaglekins, during what we called in Ireland that bloody period of the Irish Civil War, and the War of Independence, before I after having fled, I did, to England, with the explosion of Ireland entirely and its ongoing repair.
Coming in through the door with the day’s footage, what with Dyll being in the industry, we popped the tape into the projector and watched our exploits, going to ride on the bouncy castle and dodgems at the Mayfair, some trunk patting and petting at the Elephant & Castle, and a visit to Piccadilly Circus, where we did all of the tourist adventures, such as having a go on the bouncy castle and the dodgems, before meeting the animals for a bit of a petting and a patting of their ultra long noses. The laughter on the footage gave us much joy. Dyll pulled a little sticker out of the tape so that it wouldn’t be recordered over and shouted:
“That one’s a keeper!”
Then we all fell on the bed, and went to sleep.
A slobbering bark and the charge of the Russian Fokov Mastiff, bounding into the bedroom to greet Dyll in the morning woke us all up. I roared with the dog looking over the posters of the bed, in at the three of us. Barney also woke and roared. Dyll got changed into her Havisham like wedding dress, and stood before the full length mirror holding a bouquet in her hands.
I befriended the big hairy beast, tickling him under the chin. We were firm friends before breakfast.
As if mirroring the day before, there was another deathly and ominous knock on the door.
To be continued here...