I can’t help but be rude to cousin Davina and her nit-ridden son:
“Are you coming to stay, Davina? Or are you moving in – again?”
“Paul!”, Marjorie hissed.
Although there was no love lost between her cousin and herself, one must never be rude in polite society.
In fairness, Davina gave back as good as she got:
“Still screwing that saggy maid, is he, Marje?”, she retorted.
There was an awkward silence:
“More cake, Madam?”, Mary coughed
“er – yes, please”, Marjorie muttered.
Davina merely laughed with satisfaction:
“Yes, Mary. You’d better show us to our room, don’t you think?”
“Whore”, mumbled Mary
You see, it all started when we were back at the old place and Marjorie was out at some shindig or other at a neighbouring estate:
As was usual, I was left looking after our little Lavinia.
And Davina came into the room and took me roughly across the bed:
It was brutal and loveless, and I felt used and sore.
But she just laughed:
“Well, little Paul, that wasn’t half bad! Now, any noise out of you, and we’ll go running to cousin Marjorie, won’t we. So stop snivelling!”
You see, the thing is, despite Marjorie out doing the same sort of thing herself – swinging from a chandelier and all that – if she knew I’d had physical relations with her reviled cousin, our marriage would be over. She would have thrown me out of our illustrious estate before the baliffs did. And I would never have seen my darling Lavinia grow up!
So there you are, you see. One is up Shit street without a paddle! The woman can do what she likes with me! Oh God help me!
Is our hero really flumoxed by this stupid woman? Surely he’s taken on worse than Davina?
Don’t miss the next gripping installment, same time, same channel. Don’t touch that dial!!!