Jennifer did her best to talk to me during the nearly three-hour journey from Shropshire to York. I wasn't in the mood to talk. My rumbling stomach soon alerted her to one of the reasons why I was fairly uncooperative. She took pity on me after an hour or so and we stopped for a late breakfast which made me feel a good deal better, but not enough to engage in anything other than a casual conversation with her. I wanted to know more about why she and her colleagues thought that I could be useful in their investigations.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Devin once again found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror. He'd been doing that a lot recently. Perhaps it was because he was obsessing over every little bodily change the hormones brought him. Perhaps it was because he was inspecting himself to see if he really looked like a girl. Perhaps it was because he simply liked looking at himself. Devin silently laughed at that last thought, as if.

Or perhaps it was because it was an easy way to force himself to do some mental introspection.

AA Lock Stock and Barrel 3

Isabel. Entrepreneur and asset stripper.
Edward Thorpe Isabel’s father. Deceased.
Josephine Thorpe Isabel’s mother.
Lucinda Thorpe Isabel’s sister.
Abigail Thorpe Isabel’s 2nd sister
Veronica Thorpe Isabel’s 3rd sister
Jacqueline Thorp Isabel’s youngest sister
Marjorie Tansley Lawyer to Edward Thorpe
Shula Isabel’s bisexual female partner.

“I don’t have any pyjamas. I don’t wear them; I’m neither seven nor seventy years old! Can’t I just keep this on, until going to bed?” I said, gesturing towards my current outfit?

“No. I don’t want you crying all over my clothes. And you need those as costumes, don’t you?” My sister replied.

“Why on earth would I cry? What are you going to do to me?” I queried in fake panic.

“Nothing. I hope you don’t. But trust someone who knows from experience, these girlie chats about boys often end that way.”

“Boy chats?”

“Excuse me. Sarah. Have you seen that key you gave me earlier?” I asked

Sarah looked confused, “Not since I gave it to you earlier. Why? Have you lost it?”

“I don’t think so. I left it in the keyhole, after locking it from the inside, to stop, erm…” I paused.

“Yes, to stop anyone else bursting in. Sorry again about that,” said Sarah, picking up my pause.

“Well, the room is now locked. With my other costumes in there,” I went on.

“Oh,” said Sarah, “just your costumes? Your change of clothes is still in the gymnasium?”

“Yes, Sarah.”

It was listed on the map as “Farmington River Watershed” and in the early spring it would flood over and just about—well, once—filled the ‘Subway’ shop with about a foot of water. It was an ideal place to swim—if one did not mind swimming with various flora, fauna and whatever that was that brushed against your leg—along with just walking on the side. It was the place, that as a kid, you assumed only you knew about.

This story came about from messages I exchanged with Holly Snow. I had written that I was trying to set my stories in various places and she suggested that I write something about Northern Europe. I joked that I could call it ‘Antonia from Estonia’ and this is the result, some 65,000 words later.
Marianne

E’volvo’lution Chapter 1