The fridge is empty so McFizzer has gone shopping, I am still not so sure that hanging around here waiting for Drufus to turn up is such a great idea, although it has given me a chance to watch all of the coverage of the Olympics in Beijing, and it has lifted my heart to see such fabulous efforts from all of team GB – winners all.
For the most part McFizzer and I have remained in the house and garden keeping as lower profile as possible with just the occasional nod to neighbours and sometimes a quick chat about the weather. Most people still feel uneasy talking to me, finding it awkward to unearth topics of conversation that somehow don’t come round to mentioning my family. I think once all this stuff is over I will look at selling this house and moving into an apartment in the city centre. Fortunately my father was an astute guy and had ample policies in place which have left me in a comfortable position with no real need to worry about money, but I think it would a positive move to up sticks at some point no matter how painful I may initially find it.
“How’s it going?”
“My god McFizzer – don’t sneak up on me like that.” I spin on my chair to see him stood in the doorway smiling at me. “You could give a guy a heart attack.”
“Sorry, I thought you would have heard me come in, I have something to tell you - so come and give me a hand with the shopping and we can chat.”
“Yes dear,” I mock and follow him into the kitchen.
“So what is it?” I ask loading a six pack of cola into the fridge.
“That guy opposite,”
“Mr Dennison.”
“Yes him, he just stopped me on the way in and we got chatting, I told him I was your uncle as we had discussed.”
“Ok – was he cool with that?”
“Yes, he appeared to be. But then he asked if we had seen any strangers wandering around early this morning.”
I froze mid shelf stacking – “do you think it could be Drufus?” Recently I had begun to convince myself that Drufus may have decided to leave me alone and that I was in the clear, but McFizzers comment sent my heart racing as that sick feeling in my stomach returned.
“I don’t know, it could be nothing, it could be quite innocent.”
“Yes I guess so.”
“Anyway we can find out.”
“How?”
“Mr Dennison has a security camera on the front of his house and it records onto one of those hard drive systems so we can go and take a look.”
“I told you he was obsessive,”
“Lucky for us he is.”
“Yes I suppose, - is he ok with us taking a look at the recording?”
“He was a bit stand-off-ish, but he relaxed somewhat when I told him I used to be a police officer.”
“And were you?”
“Nah,”
I laughed, “so when can we go over there?”
“As soon as this is shopping is put away, I asked him to put the kettle on.”
“Oh my god – it will be paper doilies at dawn.”
“What’s a doily?”
“Did you never go for tea at your grandparents when you where a kid?”
“Not yet,“ smiled McFizzer.
For the most part McFizzer and I have remained in the house and garden keeping as lower profile as possible with just the occasional nod to neighbours and sometimes a quick chat about the weather. Most people still feel uneasy talking to me, finding it awkward to unearth topics of conversation that somehow don’t come round to mentioning my family. I think once all this stuff is over I will look at selling this house and moving into an apartment in the city centre. Fortunately my father was an astute guy and had ample policies in place which have left me in a comfortable position with no real need to worry about money, but I think it would a positive move to up sticks at some point no matter how painful I may initially find it.
“How’s it going?”
“My god McFizzer – don’t sneak up on me like that.” I spin on my chair to see him stood in the doorway smiling at me. “You could give a guy a heart attack.”
“Sorry, I thought you would have heard me come in, I have something to tell you - so come and give me a hand with the shopping and we can chat.”
“Yes dear,” I mock and follow him into the kitchen.
“So what is it?” I ask loading a six pack of cola into the fridge.
“That guy opposite,”
“Mr Dennison.”
“Yes him, he just stopped me on the way in and we got chatting, I told him I was your uncle as we had discussed.”
“Ok – was he cool with that?”
“Yes, he appeared to be. But then he asked if we had seen any strangers wandering around early this morning.”
I froze mid shelf stacking – “do you think it could be Drufus?” Recently I had begun to convince myself that Drufus may have decided to leave me alone and that I was in the clear, but McFizzers comment sent my heart racing as that sick feeling in my stomach returned.
“I don’t know, it could be nothing, it could be quite innocent.”
“Yes I guess so.”
“Anyway we can find out.”
“How?”
“Mr Dennison has a security camera on the front of his house and it records onto one of those hard drive systems so we can go and take a look.”
“I told you he was obsessive,”
“Lucky for us he is.”
“Yes I suppose, - is he ok with us taking a look at the recording?”
“He was a bit stand-off-ish, but he relaxed somewhat when I told him I used to be a police officer.”
“And were you?”
“Nah,”
I laughed, “so when can we go over there?”
“As soon as this is shopping is put away, I asked him to put the kettle on.”
“Oh my god – it will be paper doilies at dawn.”
“What’s a doily?”
“Did you never go for tea at your grandparents when you where a kid?”
“Not yet,“ smiled McFizzer.
.
.
“The drains could do with a clean, “ I comment to McFizzer as we walk up the drive of number 22.
Mr Dennison opens the door before we have a chance to knock. “Do come in.” He smiles at me and then winks at McFizzer.
Mr Dennison opens the door before we have a chance to knock. “Do come in.” He smiles at me and then winks at McFizzer.
“What is that smell?” I gag as we enter the house.
“Yes sorry about that ,” says Mr Dennison. “I think there is a blockage, I have called a plumber to come and have a look.”
“Sorry, I can’t stay in here.” I say and turn to walk out but McFizzer pushes me back in and I stumble to the floor onto a pile of soggy blankets. McFizzer closes the door and drops the latch.
“McFizzer what are you doing, can’t you smell this?” I lift my hand from the blankets and look at it, my fingers are covered in a gooey substance that resembles brownish snot. “What is this? What is that stench?”
“It is the smell of death Tavis.” I look to the now open kitchen door and directly into the smiling face of Drufus. “It is the aroma of enzymes eating flesh and rupturing cells releasing the sweet wine of decay. It is considered by some to be a delicacy – please do try some.”
I look to my hand covered in the viscid stinking substance and then to McFizzer who is stood over me. “Try it Tavis, - it is delicious.” He cackles.
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