Big Bang Generation by Gary Russell

Author:Gary Russell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crown/Archetype
Published: 2015-09-07T16:00:00+00:00

9

Notorious

It was 22 December 2015, and Mr Thomas Gordon Taylor was not having a great day. Truth was, he wasn’t even having a good one. Nope. It could be argued that he was having the worst day of his life, but that would involve omitting the day his wife told him the Rabbitohs had only come third in their centenary year. Or the day they missed his daughter’s wedding because of the rain closing the airport. Or –

‘So, anyway,’ interrupted the cause of his Worst Day Ever, ‘the Duchess and I were wondering if we could get access to the exhibit.’ The Scottish man smiled, very insincerely, Mr Taylor thought. ‘What with her needing to get back to England for the funeral of her late, lamented husband, and then open Parliament, and then attending Wimbledon – she just has to see Valentino get things started off on Centre Court…’

The Duchess leant in, smiling far more sincerely. ‘I do so love dear Rudolph.’

‘Rudolph?’

‘Valentino. Great tennis player,’ she added.

The man shot her a look.

‘His parents, huge movie fans. Who knew two famous people would have that name in history?’

Mr Taylor sighed. He was pretty certain that the Queen opened the English Parliament and it rarely clashed with the tennis, and he’d never heard of an Italian tennis player called Rudolph Valentino. All that aside, what he really wanted to do was go home to his wife, his cat and the DVR-stored episodes of Wonderland. Therefore he opened his drawer and passed over a couple of VIP lanyards to the Scottish man. ‘Valid till 8 p.m.,’ he muttered. ‘Go to Level 6 and one of the guides will let you in.’

The Scottish man and the Duchess rose graciously from their seats (was the Duchess actually bowing? To him?) and stood aside as Mr Taylor made his way out of his own office, then followed behind him.

The Scottish Man passed the VIP lanyard to the Duchess. ‘Oh, Mr Smythe,’ she said haughtily, rhyming ‘Smythe’ with ‘tithe’, ‘one cannot possibly wear this over this magnificent dress. You must carry the passes for both of us.’

Mr Smythe raised his eyes to heaven, draped a lanyard over himself and carried hers.

As Mr Taylor made his escape, the last thing he saw was Mr Smythe escorting the Duchess to an elevator.

And he was on his way home.

—

In the elevator, the two were bickering again. ‘Duchess? You had to say you were a Duchess. What made you say that?’ the Doctor was grouching as he stabbed the Level 6 button.

Bernice shrugged. ‘I wanted to be a Duchess.’ She pointed at the elaborate dress, straight out of Pygmalion, that she was wearing, courtesy of a Shimmer.

‘It’s 2015,’ he replied. ‘Not Downton Abbey.’

Bernice clicked her fingers. ‘Yes! Downton Abbey. That’s a TV show, yes?’

The Doctor grunted that it was. Bernice clenched her fist and punched the air. ‘Yes! Ha, sucks to you Professor “Downton Abbey was the seat of power in the United Kingdom during the nineteenth century before Buckingham Palace” Duffy.

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