It is a crisply whitewashed cottage, its stout oaken frame black in the twilight. Ferdinando barely hears the exchange between the coarse coachman and...gentle burr of the tall, dark haired lady giving directions.“The lady of the ‘ouse, ‘as ‘eard tell we’s comin’, my Lord. She reckons the hall belongin’ to Sir Valentine Albury, be past the Green an’ Church, an’ up the first lane on the left, and is most likely closed up for the night,” Handley, reports back to the Judge. “An’, she says, ‘The. There you are! The kitchen door slammed open and Ian walked in, he stank of god only knew what blend of random shit he spent all day moving around the warehouse he worked at. About forty or so Ian stood half a foot taller than me and was broad across the shoulders. He was not so bad to look at though his crumpled clothes bought a decade ago didnt help, in another life I might even have found him attractive, but not in this one. Cooking my dinner like a good little bitch, he said. It was true, I. More

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