A fictional satire about a character named Me Grane, who imagines having her own army of supporters to harass her detractors. She dreams of attending the Oscars and giving a speech about her activism. Meanwhile, outside Me Grane's mansion, two buses arrive with people claiming to be Henry's family and Rachel's family. The guards are confused as they don't know who these people are or if they have the wrong place.
Episode 1 The Monty Shitholes the rescue of Henry. This is a fictional satire and it is entirely my own work. Although you may identify the characters and places with real people this is not meant to cause embarrassment or harm to any persons herein. It is for entertainment purposes only and uses no true or real events in this fictional story. This satire was written before her late Majesty Queen Elizabeth had passed away. She is mentioned here as granny however there is no disrespect whatsoever meant or intended towards her.
She was a much loved monarch and a great British monarch and she will go down in history as such. I offer the same courtesy to King Charles and the rest of the royal family. I hope you enjoy it. This is episode 1. There are three one-hour episodes all separately recorded. Episode 1. Me Grane was standing in one of her 19 bathrooms. A favourite actually. It was all decked out in gold just to soothe her personality. She looked in the mirror admiring her natural beauty.
Oh dear it looked like she might not get her Oscars invite after all. Just more publicity, her haters would say. They had also said that well at the end of the day why would she have received an invite she's not an A-lister or even a Z-lister in Hollywood. Never was they would say. Poor deluded people she thought. Maybe now is the time to start paying some of her supporters to write some better hate speech about them and see how they liked it.
Me Grane let her mind wander imagining the possibilities of having her own private little army of supporters. She could even make them all across the world if she really wanted to. She imagined how they could threaten and harass the lives of her detractors. There's a couple of those people on YouTube that she'd like to get a hold of. Hmm what would she call them? Her Montachette old squad. Her squaddies. Hmm she liked the thought and jotted down a couple of names she knew who could do the job.
Little did she know that she'd need those names sooner than she thought. In her Montachette old mansion and she was lucky that ginger nobles had been rich enough to get it for her. She looked at the 20 million dollar Oscar De La Renta dress all red carpet ready which she had bought for the occasion. She wondered where her Oscars invite had got to. Her good friend and neighbor Sopra had already received hers. Standing before her solid gold mirror she held the dress up to her rather chubby body and began practicing her trademark smile.
Some haters had called it a smirk but daddy had said it was one of the most beautiful smiles he'd ever seen. All his cash splashed on those lovely brilliant white veneers. They'd paid off. She again practiced what some haters had called to her horror her evil sly permagrin. But she called it her camera smile and she thought that as she walked the red carpet she would search out the nearest camera. Maybe might hard to find but she'd find one.
Then beaming like the Cheshire Cat she would wave loyally of course and allow her adoring public 20 minutes moving slowly along the red carpet to show off her best side. Hadn't daddy always told her to show off the pretty side of her two faces to the cameras and to get the best possible look at their Queen in all her ultimate glory. In her bedroom she allowed her imagination to run away with her. There she would be up on stage, her peers cheering her and before presenting the best film award she would take a moment, well 15 minutes actually, if she could stretch it and tell the audience about her compassion, her activism for world peace and black women's rights.
Making sure she was still showing her best side to the cameras. Then reluctant to leave the stage she would present the recipients of their award, maybe allow them a few words and then snatch the camera microphone from them and tell the audience while she had them in the palm of her hand of her upcoming projects. She practiced her speech over and over into the gold mirror. She would then say thank you all for inviting me here tonight.
It's a great honor and confirms my celebrity here in Hollywood, the place of my birth. Unfortunately my husband can't be with us tonight. Hmm I could really add a bit of humor here she thought. Something like I hate back at our Montesito mansion trying to source two children with UK passports who we can take over to see granny. We're royal now you see so we need to stay in touch in order to get our, oh she thought she'd have to fix that lineup by tomorrow.
She would continue, thanks again to everyone who has brought me here tonight and onto the famous red carpet. I was hugely embarrassed and taken aback by all those cameras. Here the audience may laugh, or more likely. I certainly wasn't expecting them. I'd have worn something more appropriate, something shimmery and gold had I have known. But I think I managed to avoid them getting any decent shots of me to sell to those repugnant British racist newspapers. Thank you all and I love you.
The applause will be deafening and a handsome young man in a tuxedo would take her hand and escort her to the front row to sit amongst the greatest celebrities in Hollywood, her friends and her peers. Yes her first red carpet Oscars event will be her greatest and only achievement yet. But where was that bloody invitation? Outside the mansion gates black Thomas stood at his post alongside the high security walls of the Monteshitto mansion somewhere in California.
He like the other half-dozen guards were expected by the mistress, me Green Monteshitto. For some reason she liked to call herself the Duchess of Sex-S. Thomas wondered what that meant. But they were they were expected to stand still and upright on guard for 12 hours straight. That Thomas, bored, was wondering why the mistress had insisted on calling him black Thomas when he had first taken the job. He wasn't black as such just of mixed race. He thought he was whiter than the mistress herself but she had offered him double the salary of the other guards who were all white if he would allow himself to be called black Thomas.
He had no idea why. So from his first day on the job that is what he had been called. But there was a rumor amongst the other staff that the mistress had a thing about all Thomases. But she'd not been given any reason when he'd been offered the job. Thomas and the other guards had stood bored for their long 12-hour shifts. Nobody ever came here. The mistress and Ginger, the mistress had insisted on keep calling him Ginger Nobles.
Most of the staff just called him Ginger when they were out of the meagrance hearing. Thomas knew that the mistress was a very private person and repelled reporters and camera crews away. But none had come to the mansion for the last few years since the mistress and Ginger had moved in and had seemed to lose their popularity. That's what Thomas had heard, anyway, from another guy who worked in a mansion nearby. He'd no idea why they had ever been so popular in the first place.
He'd never heard of either of them. So there was nothing for anyone to see and they could no longer stop the mansion as they once had. Although the mistress wouldn't need a dozen, why she needed a dozen guards outside, it's also all very strange. Suddenly, two buses, one a red double-decker with London Transport emblazoned on the side and the other a Los Angeles Yellow Tour bus, stopped outside the mansion's gates. Both buses seemed to be full of people.
Thomas wondered why tourists would want to stop outside here. Only an unknown middle-aged woman who had once served drinks on a luxury yacht and some man-child husband who had never worked a day in his life lived there. So the staff gossip mongers had said. Both buses soon saw the passengers' light. A grey-haired elderly man who had come from the red bus stepped forward. He was soon joined by the rest of both buses. Thomas thought the grey-haired man looked familiar, not unlike the photo Ginger had in his attic bedroom.
That was when the mistress thought Ginger had been good. When she thought he hadn't, or was not done as she told him, he was banished in a chicken coop to sleep. Hello to you, the man said in a strange accent. I'm Henry's father, but he calls me Pa. Is my son inside this cottage? An impressive-looking older lady in what Thomas thought looked like riding joppers piped up. Could you just let Henry know that his Pa and new mummy are here with some other of his relatives.
We've come to take him home. Black Thomas thought this quite strange. Who was this Henry person? Nobody of that name lived here. Still, who was he to question? The folk from the yellow California tour bus were also gathered around. Their spokesman, a pretty middle-aged lady with blonde hair, spoke up. Hi. Thomas noticed that she spoke with an Australian drawl. I'm Rachel's sister. Could you tell her daddy and the whole family are here? With that, an aging but still handsome man, Thomas found out later that the man was also called Thomas, and he had been some sort of lighting director in Hollywood.
Very impressive. He stepped forward, but who on earth was Rachel? Please tell my father that her daddy and the rest of the family are here. We've come with the British mob to slide stage and intervention. Hang on. Maybe don't tell her that aspect. Just, yeah, just tell her we're here to see her. We haven't seen her in years, so this will be a huge surprise for her. Yes, said Pa. Just tell Henry we have come to visit him and his wife and the two grandchildren.
The guards all looked at each other. Grandchildren? What did this man with the odd accent mean? There are no grandchildren here? One of the other guards started to say that he thought they had the wrong place, but the older Thomas said, probably just best if you tell Rachel, I mean the lady of the house, that we are here. Black Thomas used to be in given orders, that is, he was told and pressed the intercom buzzer. It was soon answered.
Said Ginger, there are a lot of people outside. They say they are your family, your Pa and new mummy and the mistress's family. Thomas never got to finish what he was going to say. As Ginger squealed, Pa? New mummy? The boy sounds as though he's about to cry. Yes, Henry dear, it's me. New mummy's here as well and all your family. We've come to take you back home. Remember home? Black Thomas again wondered why this Pa man called Ginger Henry.
But Ginger was shouting into the intercom. Let them in, Black Thomas, let them in. Hang on, said Ginger. Do you want to let the mistress's family know that her, but the guard was cut off by the lovely lady who said she was the mistress's sister. She put her fingers to her lips. No, don't say anything to Rachel. Rachel? Who is Rachel? We want to surprise her, yeah? Thomas and the other guards were unsure what to do.
They'd never had a situation like this before, but the obvious joy and the sounds of said Ginger jumping up and down with glee, forced Black Thomas to make a decision. He threw the gates open and ushered both groups into the Montessori mansion. Once inside, the large group marched up the pathway towards the large golden front door. Before them stood a mansion of great proportions. A taller, much younger man with very sparse hair was walking beside the man who called himself Pa.
He held on to the hand of an extremely thin and glamorous girl in the most beautiful golden evening gown, looking like she had just stepped out of a James Bond movie. Behind them trailed an assortment of white, black and mixed-race people, all moving as one. Once inside the large golden door, a bottleneck having formed, Ginger was seen running down the large staircase, his arms outstretched, tears rolling down his eyes. You came for me, I can't believe you came for me, Pa.
What took you so long to come for me? Ginger hugged all his family one by one, but kept the biggest hug for Pa. He had looked at you, Mummy, for a moment before also hugging her. Unseen for many years, most of his family were also in tears, thinking of what their poor boy must have gone through. It appeared that somehow he had reverted to a childhood-type existence. Look how much you've grown, Henry, said a stern-looking but sweet-sounding woman, who looked like she'd just stepped off a horse, as she hugged her nephew.
Hey, bro, how you been? said the tall, balding man, who seemed to tell us to be Ginger's brother. We've missed your happy ladys and chicks back home. Good to have you back. Still got your frozen todger? Remember when we were boys and we used to laugh at it? Ginger lowered his head in embarrassment. He was overwhelmed. Most of his relatives he hadn't seen for many years. Willie, why have you come for me? Have you? I've been trying to get Pa to come for me for a long time, but she won't let me use the phone, and I've forgotten Pa's number anyway.
Poor Ginger, still had tears rolling down his cheeks. Finally they had come to him. He hadn't wanted to stay here with Mummy for a long time, although he had to admit he did love the girls in the chicken coop, where Mummy made him sleep if he'd been naughty. Before you go, you want to come and see my bedroom in my chicken coop? Ginger jumped up and down with excitement. Come on this way. The girls and I have lovely chats about different ways to have eggs.
It's good fun. I've also got a tomato patch as well, but Mummy says I have to keep them till they get rotten to throw at people who come here. Some lady from somewhere called Wales, I think it was, she told Mummy. The British family looked at each other aghast. They had no idea what migraine had put their boy through. Ginger led his family out through the many rooms of the luxurious mansion, and outside into the thousand acre manicured gardens, with its three swimming pools, a tennis course, and a massive children's play area.
Which none of the other staff had wondered why it was there. Ha ha, said Pa. Hey Cammy, come look. This is where our grandchildren must play. There were sounds of oohs and ahhs from the rest of the family. Finally they would get to meet little Archie Balls and Elizabeth. There had been a time when all the family thought that migraine and Ginger had made these children up as nobody had ever seen them. Where are the little blighters anyway? Asked Pa.
In the nursery I suppose, having tea with Nanny. Ginger turned bright red. Pa, Mummy told me not to, well she told me not, if anybody asks, about babies and things, I must say that they're playing at their friend's house, but... Ginger lowered his voice and spoke into his Pa's ear. We haven't really managed to make any babies yet, Pa. She won't let me, er, well, you know what Nanny taught me about when I was a boy.
Mummy says my Todger may as well be cold and frozen to her. What does she mean by that, Pa? Pa spluttered. Tammy gave a small cough and looked away. The tall handsome balding man and his beautiful wife gave a snigger. Black Thomas couldn't make head or tail of it. What were they going on about? But Archie Balls and Elizabeth, what about them? Asked Pa. Ginger didn't quite know what to say, as the witch, as he secretly called Mummy, had told him that if he ever said anything to anyone about them having no children, she'd cut his balls off.
Ginger was fond of his balls. He played with them at every opportunity, especially if he could do it through a window without her knowing. A once handsome looking man with sparse red hair came forward and put his arm round Ginger. Hey now, no more tears. Uncle James and him, he pointed at Pa. We've come to take you home, son. He shot Pa a filthy look. But Pa begged Ginger to come to him and put his arms round his shoulders.
They all made their way over to the chicken coop. Black Thomas thought he saw Sopra running away. But they spent the next ten minutes meeting the girls in Ginger's chicken coop. Meanwhile, back in the large marble tiled hall, me, Grain's clan, from both sides of her family, so you could tell who was from which side, were waiting for Rachel's arrival. Black Thomas had made his way back inside. He had no idea who all these people were.
He knew his mistress was pure Caucasian, but here we've had people of colour. He wondered what they had to do with his mistress. Everyone stood around wondering when Rachel would arrive. A servant had been dispatched even together. Suddenly, there she was. She seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Her sister laughed. She knew this was not the first time that this had happened. Rachel was a master at appearing in places on scene, even climbing up ladders to reach higher levels.
They all gasped. This was not the curly haired girl they remembered. Even her face was a different shape. Why was it so orange? Almost like a spray paint almost like a spray tan, a bad one. And what had she done to her nose? Their father thought her hair looked like that of a thousand virgins, as he'd once done some lighting for a movie where such hair extensions had been used. Me, Grain, drew in a deep breath and turned a funny shade of green when she saw, stood in her hall, many members of her family who she had long forgotten.
Her sister stepped forward. Hi, sis. We thought that because you won't come to us, we'll come to you. So, surprise! Actually, Rachel, we're here to perform an intervention. The game's up, flower. Henry's folks are also here to take him home. Me, Grain's face was like a cloud of thunder. Get out of my mansion! All of you, go on, piss off! Get out! She screamed. But the family stood firm. Me, Grain, went up to the older man, also called Thomas.
She looked him straight in the eye. Get out! Get out! Now, all of you! I don't know who you are. I've never seen such eyes on any of you before. Flower, I know you want to keep your privacy and protect my grandchildren. Black Thomas wondered again what the older Thomas was talking about. But things can't go on as they are. We're your family. We miss you. Me, Grain, started shouting, almost hysterical. You're no family of mine.
I've never seen any of you before. You're all after my millions. I've met your type before. Now, get out, all of you. Fuck off before I get my security to throw you out. The pretty blonde who had said she was Me, Grain's sister moved in. Black Thomas wondered how this blonde could possibly be his mistress's sister. They were like chalk and cheese. Rachel, we are here to perform an intervention. It's either that or I'll haul you to the courts for lying about.
Dad and I, you know exactly who you are. But Me, Grain had to interrupt her sister. It's you who don't know who I am. I'm royal and you're just jealous. I got the good looks and you didn't. Now, get out. Her sister noticed that Me, Grain's clipped American accent had descended to that of a girl from the Bronx. A voice from the crowd piped up. Yeah, and me. When I told them about your big brother, nobody would believe me when I said I had a power-hungry, fame-obsessed, lying bitch of a sister.
Delusional as well, as she was always talking about taking down some royal family somewhere. And she'd become the queen. They all laughed and said you belonged in a nut house. Black Thomas shook his head. He decided to try and take the word out. This, especially when he had been told the man who had just spoken was also called Thomas, although he had Junior after his name. Apparently he was the mistress's brother. Thomas Junior continued. They all thought I was lying.
They said nobody could have a sister that bad. Well, who's laughing now? They all have egg on their faces now, hey sis? Me, Grain tried to take charge. Black Thomas, get all my security team and get this bunch of rubble out of my mansion. Where's Ginger? Ginger, Ginger No Balls, where are you? I haven't seen him. The older Thomas said, I've told you Flowers, his family have come to take him home and your husband's name is Henry, not Ginger No...
The man couldn't finish Henry's name, that he knew his daughter had called him. As your family, we feel that enough is enough. It's been years now and it can't go on. You need help, Flower. Stop calling me fucking Flower. I'm not a flower, I'm... But Thomas had got hold of his daughter's arm and the rest of the family had made a ring around her. Get your hands off me old man. Don't you know who I am? I'm the Duchess of Montish at all.
My husband is the Duke, although you'd never know it. Ginger, Ginger No Balls, come here this instant. The pretty blonde sister spoke again. Look sis, we've been told by Henry's family lawyers he's back in the UK. Me, Grain spat out. Don't you ever mention that hellhole of racist bastards to me, you bitch. All the time I was there, all the hundreds of free engagements I did for them, the people adored me, but it was Ginger's family who hated me and I wasn't white like they are.
And they expect to take me to curtsy to their queen? Me? Curtsy to a woman I knew? Oh, I didn't know. I don't know. They just confused me. They took my pastoral away. I couldn't leave my pokey little house. They kept me a prisoner. They never even asked me if I was okay. I soon told them where to get off. Me, Grain realised she was saying too much. She backtracked and said, I'm a very private person.
I just want to lead a quiet life, one of service to those in need. I don't care about myself. It's as if I have been given this opportunity to help and to empower women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women.
Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women. Women All around the table glances were given. Nobody could believe Henry's behavior. He seemed to have turned into a small child and was not the usual happy-go-lucky chap he had once been.
The private investigator Pa had hired had blamed his son's changed behavior on how he'd been treated, like a dog Pa had been told at times. Granny started the conversation off. Well, here we are. Hello Henry. Did you have a nice trip? Yes, thank you, Granny, but I don't know why. Granny cut Henry off. Henry did not see this as a social visit. I'm very happy to have all the right people around me and they have helped me come to a decision about your future in this country.
I'm sending you to Loch Morrill. Remember it? It's my place in Scotland and you are to make yourself useful there. Nobody must know you are there. Understand? Suddenly Henry jumped out of his chair. He started jumping up and down. Granny, Granny, Granny, can't be a guard outside your house? You know, like the ones who guard your house here? Wear the red uniform and those big black hats? Please, Granny, please, please say yes. Granny looked towards her son.
What's wrong with him? Why is he behaving like a spoiled child? You'd be forgiven he's thinking he wasn't one of ours, the way he's acting. Pa had not given his mother many details about Henry's existence at the Montessor mansion, nor of his rescue. He took her to the far end of the kitchen and told her Henry's descent back into childhood and of me going to treatment of him. Now Granny understood the gravity of the situation. She realized she would have to treat Henry for a while anyway, as though he were a child.
She spoke to him gently. Yes, Henry, you could be one of my guides. I will have a friend of mine, Angela, make up a uniform for you. I'm sure your brother can find you a spare bearskin hat. Pa stood signalling that the meeting was over. Mummy, Tammy and I will drive him up tomorrow, settle him in. I'll make sure his old nanny gets there before us, as he'll need taking care of. Granny stood up to leave the room, her dogs following.
She looked at her son. Do whatever you like, you always do. Pa rolled his eyes at his wife, but now came the hard part, keeping his son out of the public eye, as there were still plenty of rotten tomatoes out there. Back in the clinic in Beverly Hills, me, Grain, was making her one phone call. She knew the person's phone number off by heart. She should do. She'd rang this person every day for the past three years, to see what PR could be put out the next day to enhance their popularity.
Sadie, who had told me, Grain, that she was also a partial tomato soup, answered the phone. Put me through to Scabies, quick! Me, Grain, almost screamed down the phone. Certainly Dutch, hold the line. Me, Grain, bristled the phone against her ear. Why the fuck does everyone have to call me bloody Dutch? I'm a duchess, not a Dutch. Me, Grain, had forgotten that it was her herself, a number of years ago, who had insisted that everyone call her Dutch, as she thought it would please no ginger nobles.
A man's voice came on the line. Hi Dutch, what's up? I've done that fake press announcement about the kids christening. Never mind me the pleasantries, I'm in bloody jail, aren't I? Jail? What have you done now? Scabies voice became angry. I haven't done anything, it's not actually a jail, or it feels like one. I'm in the Frogmore Clinic in Beverly Hills. My fucking stupid family came over to the mansion and forced me into this old white van and brought me here.
It's called an inconvenience or something. You and Christine gotta get me out of here. You've got to get me out of here right now. Scabies was dumbstruck. He had to do an awful lot for me going over the years. Lies, misinformation, covering for her. But this, this was the worst. He thought for a minute. Okay, but how do we get you out? Me, Grain, was ready. It's okay, I've had a thought. Can you get a hold of Eton? Ask him if he has a helicopter nearby? I'm pretty sure he has.
Ask him if I can borrow it. Don't tell him what for. Make something up, you're good at that. Then you and Chris can get Eton's pilot to slow low over the clinic's rear courtyard and winch me up into the chopper. What do you think of that idea? Can it work? Scabies spluttered. In reality, he'd never heard of anything more ridiculous. But this was me, Grain. He relied on her for all his large income, as did Christine Boosie.
The pair looked at each other for a moment, deciding what to do. Boosie spoke first. I suppose we could do it. She's no good to us if she's locked away in there, is she? How will we get paid? Yeah, I suppose you're right. Have you got Eton's number in your phone? An hour or so later, me, Grain, was able to sneak another phone call to Scabies. Well, did you do it? What am I getting out of here? They seem to think I'm some kind of fallen celebrity or something, like the other two bitches they got in here.
Don't they know I'm a royal duchess? Oh, calm down. It's all organized. Eton does have a helicopter just half an hour away. We're on our way now to meet it, so here's the plan. The pilot said it will take about 15 to 20 minutes to fly to the clinic, so give us about 45 minutes for us to get there. Go outside into the courtyard and stand about two meters from the wall. Once the chopper is hovering over, a winch will drop down.
Climb into it and make sure you've got suitable gear on. Me, Grain, interrupted him. But I haven't got any suitable gear. Her voice was angry. I didn't have time to fucking pack all my designer clothes, actually. Her voice drifted in sarcasm. Doesn't matter. Just climb into the winch and we'll do the rest, okay? 45? How will I know it's 45 minutes? I've got no fucking watch on. Oh, you'll hear the chopper approaching, said Scabies. Once it starts hovering, get into position.
It seemed a long wait, but eventually the sound of a helicopter could be heard. As the chopper drew nearer and the downdraft started, the few other inmates in the courtyard became curious. They started to move towards her, asking what was happening. Me, Grain, turned and hissed at them, the wide toothed grin never leaving her face. Hair usually flowing virgin's hair, blowing wildly round her head. And politely, she told them where to go. Piss off! Go on, all of you! Mind your own fucking business! She said it was such venom that the others moved away quickly.
Megan looked up and a chopper had begun hovering, getting lower and lower. She started to get nervous. She'd never been in a helicopter before. She'd never been winched into a helicopter before. It's a good job I have my Agent Profiteer knickers on, she thought. The winch was lowered and me, Grain, grabbed at it. She lifted her leg to climb in, but the expensive designer dress she was wearing wouldn't let her bend her leg. She tried again and an almighty rip was heard as the dress split right up the side seam.
Eventually she managed to get her ample body into the winch and shouted to Scabies and Bozie, who she hoped was on the other side of the wall, to hurry the fuck up and get me out of here! A larger woman of color turned to her manly-looking friend. Fuck, I wish I had a camera crew with me. What a chat show episode this would make! And she watched envious as me, Grain, was hoisted onto the sky. Her jaw dropped to the floor.
What?! Once safely on the ground, Eaton's pilot Gaylord flew the expensive helicopter off into the distance. Scabies and Bozie quickly ushered me, Grain, into a black waiting Range Rover. After catching her breath, me, Grain, spoke. Oh, thanks guys. I'll make sure there's an extra in your bank next time. Right, what's the plan now? Bozie and Scabie looked at each other. There was no plan. Me, Grain, saw their looks and went into what Ginger Nobles called one of her tantrums.
As she calmed down, she told the two men, take me back to my mansion. All my things are there and Ginger will be there looking for me. Scabies interrupted her. Sorry me, Grain, we can't do that. The bank's called a loan in yesterday. You were six months behind. They said they had no option. Also, Scabies didn't quite know what to tell her. Scabies didn't quite know how to tell her. Well, you see, well, squatters have moved in.
There's over a hundred of them, I reckon, and you do have 19 bathrooms, so a large group of them decided to take over the mansion. Me, Grain, spluttered, head jaw dropped. What? Who told you that information? Bozie felt he had to tell her. Me, Grain, you need to know that Ginger, um, Nobles is back in London with his family. We haven't heard anything from our spies over there yet, so we don't know what's happening to him.
Me, Grain, sighed. Okay, guys, let's think about this for a minute. I can't go back to my mansion. I have no family, no siblings. I can't go to any of my friends. They've all turned their backs on me. Without Ginger's title, I'm nothing. Where is the last place of paps? Here the two men exchanged knowing glances there were no paps. Where would they think of looking for me? The two men shook their heads. The Virgin Islands, maybe, said Scabies.
What about you find a luxury yacht and maybe sail on it, said Bozie. No, you idiots, the vile UK racists. Who would think to look for me there? I can fly in, give Eton another ring for you Scabies and arrange his jet. Tell him to take his fucking bugs out. I shall arrive back in the UK unannounced tomorrow night. Nobody will even know I'm there. I can go talk nice to Granny, tell her how sorry I am, and then take that good-for-nothing spare back to California.
Right, let's go stay at Gatsby's place for the night and drive carefully. I can't have any near-catastrophic car chases with the many paps that'll be following. That's if they see me. She turned to Scabies. You did ring Pierce, didn't you? Tell him where we'll be. Again Scabies shook his head. He didn't like to upset his paymaster. No, but I'll do it now. I had no idea where we were going, me Grain. He took out his phone to alert Pierce, who he knew would get at least two paps on site when they arrived at Gatsby's house.
Back in the UK, the Aston Martin flew up the motorway to Scotland. Henry was asleep in the back seat, dreaming about guarding Granny's house in his red uniform and his big black hat. Pa had given him a shiny medal to pin onto his uniform. He told his son that it was for being a good little soldier in the war and not sitting around doing nothing. He was so happy. If you enjoyed this episode, find out what happens.
See if me Grain can find her precious spare.
