The well of lost plots by Jasper Fforde

Author:Jasper Fforde [Fforde, Jasper]
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Science fiction, Women Sleuths, Mystery & Detective, Crime & mystery, Modern fiction, Next; Thursday (Fictitious character), Women novelists; English
ISBN: 9780340825938
Publisher: London : NEL, 2004.
Published: 2004-03-10T23:00:00+00:00

I READ MYSELF INTO Shadow’s featured town halfway down page 231. Johnny, the farmer’s boy who was Shadow’s owner and coprotagonist, would be having Shadow’s eyes checked in a few days, so a brief reconnaissance of the locality seemed like a good idea. If I could persuade rather than order the vet to swap the dogs, then so much the better. I alighted in a town that looked like some sort of forties English rural idyll — a mix between Warwickshire and the Dales. All green grass, show-quality cattle, yellow-lichened stone walls, sunshine and healthy-looking, smiling people. Horses pulled carts laden high with hay down the main street, and the odd shiny motorcar puttered past. Pies cooled on windowsills and children played with hoops and tinplate steam engines. The smell in the breeze was of freshly mown grass, clean linen and cooking. Here was a world of high tea, tasty trifles, zero crime, eternal summers and boundless good health. I suspected living here might be quite enjoyable — for about a week.

I was nodded at by a passerby.

“Beautiful day!” she said politely.

“Yes. My—”

“Rain later?”

I looked up at the puffy clouds that stretched away to the horizon. “I shouldn’t have thought so, but can you—”

“Well, be seeing you!” said the woman politely, and was gone.

I found an alleyway and tied the sheepdog to a downpipe; it was neither useful nor necessary to lead a dog around town for the next few hours. I walked carefully down the road, past a family butcher’s, a tearoom and sweetshop selling nothing but gobstoppers, bull’s-eyes, ginger beer, lemonade and licorice. A few doors farther on I found a newsagent and post office combined. The outside of the small shop was liberally covered with enamel signs advertising Fry’s chocolates, Colman’s starch, Wyncarnis tonic, Ovaltine and Lyons cakes. A small sign told me I could use the telephone, and a rack of postcards shared the pavement with boxes of fresh veg. There was also a display of newspapers, the headlines reflecting the interwar politics of the book.

Britain Voted Favorite Empire Tenth Year Running, said one. Foreigners Untrustworthy, Study Shows, said another. A third led with “Spiffing” — New Buzzword Sweeps Nation.

I posted the “smoother” check to Johnny’s father with a covering letter explaining that it was an old loan repaid. Almost immediately a postman appeared on a bicycle and removed the letter — the only one in the postbox, I noted — with the utmost of reverence, taking it into the post office where I could hear cries of wonderment. There weren’t many letters in Shadow, I assumed. I stood outside the shop for a moment, watching the townsfolk going about their business. Without warning one of the cart horses decided to drop a huge pile of dung in the middle of the road. In a trice a villager had run across with a bucket and shovel and removed the offending article almost as soon as it had happened. I watched for a while and then set off to find the local auctioneers.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.