A Judgement on a Life by Stephen Baddeley

Author:Stephen Baddeley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2019-07-29T16:00:00+00:00

So, he came to Darwin. He built a hotel. A hotel for people like him. For people from somewhere else. For people who needed their doors opened, to give their lives meaning. The sort of people, my sort of people, simple people, would think ghastly people. My sort of people, simple people would be right. Darwin didn’t do people like that.

So, he came to Darwin and built my house. Why did he do that? Was I under his skin that much? If I was. Good.

He built my house, an identical house. What was that all about?

“Would you like a look around?” he asked.

“Not much point really.”

“Oh, but I think you just might find it interesting.” He was coming to the net again.

“OK, let’s take a look.” I couldn’t refuse.

“Come with me.” He turned towards the house. He stopped. He turned. He looked at Ambrosia. He turned to me. “You can leave the ‘help’.”

“I would if I had any. I don’t. Ambrosia is my friend. Show us the house, she comes. She doesn’t, we don’t.” I passed him at the net. He scrambled to keep the ball in play.

“Alright, follow me.” He turned again, went through the French windows and into the ‘Long Room’. The head minion looked at me and smiled. It was a real smile, a true smile, an honest smile. It told me things. Thing it told me number 1.) – She didn’t like her boss. Thing it told me number 2.) – She hadn’t seen him passed at the net before. Thing it told me number 3.) – She was happy I passed him at the net. Thing it told me number 4.) – She liked me. Thing it told me number 4a.) – She liked me a lot. Thing it told me number 5.) – She might be an ally one day. Five good things to be told, maybe six. And all in one smile.

Annie stayed quiet. Ambrosia giggled. Giggled loud enough for Prouse to hear. She knew the game we were playing. It was American doubles. Annie wasn’t playing.

Annie stayed quiet. She was quiet all day. The shutters were down. I couldn’t see through. We followed him into the house.

The Modigliani alcoves, the Picasso alcoves were lit. But there were no Modiglianis and no Picassos, how could there be?

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