Olverston Grange ...and Other Stories
“What?” shouted Jim.
“You heard.”
“But Gavin, you can't be serious. You've spent two million. Two million! on this s**thole. You need to do something with it.”
Gavin leaned back against a wall that seemed able to take his weight. Even in this horrific state of disrepair Olverston felt like home, a sanctuary from the stress and demands of his business.
“I am doing something with it,” he said, as he pointed to a set of plans that lay on the dusty wooden floor. “I'm doing that.”
“That? How the hell is that going to make you any money back?”
Gavin snorted one of his derisive laughs, the sort guaranteed to infuriate Jim. He walked across the floor and knelt next to the plans. He stared at the black and white technical drawings able to see every detail of the finished project, able almost to smell the wood that would be used to bring Olverston Grange back.
“I'm renovating. What's so hard to understand?”
“Renovating? It's a total bloody restoration! Where are you going to find the craftsmen? Have you got any idea of how much this will cost? The only way to get even some of your money back is to build the holiday lets. Knock this f***ing thing down!”
As soon as the words left his mouth there was a loud thud from the next room. Gavin and Jim looked at each other quizzically and then went to investigate. Lying amongst the dust, glass and refuse was a dying crow. It cawed pathetically, beads of blood pooling on its beak. On the wall above the bird was an indentation where it had slammed, almost exactly, into the centre of the 'O' of the largest graffiti tag in the room.
Gavin looked down as though this was one of the most normal things that could happen, “We'll need to find someone to replace the glass, stop the birds flying in.”
“Gavin, are you serious? Does that not even creep you out a little? This place is just plain scary.”
Gavin shook his head slowly at his business partner. “No. It's not scary or creepy. It feels like home. Tell you what... Take the plans and start sorting things out. Prep some spreadsheets. Do some sums. I'm staying here for a bit.”
Jim gladly took Gavin's suggestion. He quickly made his back into the room they had held their meeting in and gathered up the plans. He hadn't been exaggerating, the place scared him in ways he would not be able to describe without fear of ridicule. All he knew was stepping foot into the Grange was like daring to stick your foot from under the duvet as a child. Logic dictated there was nothing there waiting in the dark. But since when did monsters listen to logic?
Left alone, Gavin found a plastic bag in the boot of his car to dispose of the unlucky corvid.
“Home, sweet home,” he muttered under his breath.
“You heard.”
“But Gavin, you can't be serious. You've spent two million. Two million! on this s**thole. You need to do something with it.”
Gavin leaned back against a wall that seemed able to take his weight. Even in this horrific state of disrepair Olverston felt like home, a sanctuary from the stress and demands of his business.
“I am doing something with it,” he said, as he pointed to a set of plans that lay on the dusty wooden floor. “I'm doing that.”
“That? How the hell is that going to make you any money back?”
Gavin snorted one of his derisive laughs, the sort guaranteed to infuriate Jim. He walked across the floor and knelt next to the plans. He stared at the black and white technical drawings able to see every detail of the finished project, able almost to smell the wood that would be used to bring Olverston Grange back.
“I'm renovating. What's so hard to understand?”
“Renovating? It's a total bloody restoration! Where are you going to find the craftsmen? Have you got any idea of how much this will cost? The only way to get even some of your money back is to build the holiday lets. Knock this f***ing thing down!”
As soon as the words left his mouth there was a loud thud from the next room. Gavin and Jim looked at each other quizzically and then went to investigate. Lying amongst the dust, glass and refuse was a dying crow. It cawed pathetically, beads of blood pooling on its beak. On the wall above the bird was an indentation where it had slammed, almost exactly, into the centre of the 'O' of the largest graffiti tag in the room.
Gavin looked down as though this was one of the most normal things that could happen, “We'll need to find someone to replace the glass, stop the birds flying in.”
“Gavin, are you serious? Does that not even creep you out a little? This place is just plain scary.”
Gavin shook his head slowly at his business partner. “No. It's not scary or creepy. It feels like home. Tell you what... Take the plans and start sorting things out. Prep some spreadsheets. Do some sums. I'm staying here for a bit.”
Jim gladly took Gavin's suggestion. He quickly made his back into the room they had held their meeting in and gathered up the plans. He hadn't been exaggerating, the place scared him in ways he would not be able to describe without fear of ridicule. All he knew was stepping foot into the Grange was like daring to stick your foot from under the duvet as a child. Logic dictated there was nothing there waiting in the dark. But since when did monsters listen to logic?
Left alone, Gavin found a plastic bag in the boot of his car to dispose of the unlucky corvid.
“Home, sweet home,” he muttered under his breath.
Thursday's Child: Blue Jackets Part 3
“What in the hell happened?” demanded Jack furiously.
Tim lay in the hospital bed, his eyes bandaged. “I've never seen anything like it. The whole building shone.”
“Shone? Shone? What are you gibbering about?”
Tuesday placed a hand on Jack's arm. “Calm down. We'll work this out.”
He angrily shrugged her hand off and stomped to the corner of the expensive private room. “Have you,” he growled, “got any idea how much money I lost? You do not just shut a casino down!”
“Is that what you're bothered about? The money? Tim might be blind.”
Quiet fell across the room as they all let the implication of what had been said sink in. It was Tim who broke the uncomfortable silence.
“I won't. I don't think my eyes work that way. Anyway it wasn't a bright light... it was a bright... power. It-”
“Yeah, yeah... you said. My building went shiny.”
“Oh, will you just shut up Jack? You don't like Novus. We get it. Funny you don't feel that way about me.”
“You're not Novus, Tues. You-”
“For God's sake! How do you think I do it?”
“But...” Jack trailed off, unable to find a way to finish.
“Do I get to speak now? Someone was using a power but it was huge. Massive. At first it wasn't there and then it was everywhere. It was everyone. Everything. Someone is projecting big style,” explained Tim.
“So what do we do? If they're making me lose then I want them stopped!”
“Get me discharged. With my eyes bandaged up I should be okay.”
Tuesday shifted uneasily from foot to foot, her sneakers squeaking against the plastic tiled floor. She looked at Jack for support but got none. He stared intently at the wall as if he would rather be anywhere but in this room.
“Why would you do this, Tim? Why hurt yourself to help me? I'm a stranger.”
“Guess you got lucky.”
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Tim lay in the hospital bed, his eyes bandaged. “I've never seen anything like it. The whole building shone.”
“Shone? Shone? What are you gibbering about?”
Tuesday placed a hand on Jack's arm. “Calm down. We'll work this out.”
He angrily shrugged her hand off and stomped to the corner of the expensive private room. “Have you,” he growled, “got any idea how much money I lost? You do not just shut a casino down!”
“Is that what you're bothered about? The money? Tim might be blind.”
Quiet fell across the room as they all let the implication of what had been said sink in. It was Tim who broke the uncomfortable silence.
“I won't. I don't think my eyes work that way. Anyway it wasn't a bright light... it was a bright... power. It-”
“Yeah, yeah... you said. My building went shiny.”
“Oh, will you just shut up Jack? You don't like Novus. We get it. Funny you don't feel that way about me.”
“You're not Novus, Tues. You-”
“For God's sake! How do you think I do it?”
“But...” Jack trailed off, unable to find a way to finish.
“Do I get to speak now? Someone was using a power but it was huge. Massive. At first it wasn't there and then it was everywhere. It was everyone. Everything. Someone is projecting big style,” explained Tim.
“So what do we do? If they're making me lose then I want them stopped!”
“Get me discharged. With my eyes bandaged up I should be okay.”
Tuesday shifted uneasily from foot to foot, her sneakers squeaking against the plastic tiled floor. She looked at Jack for support but got none. He stared intently at the wall as if he would rather be anywhere but in this room.
“Why would you do this, Tim? Why hurt yourself to help me? I'm a stranger.”
“Guess you got lucky.”
Available from Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk
All content is copyright M. Leon Smith unless otherwise indicated.
Blue Jackets cover art is copyright Books To Go Now. Olverston Grange cover art is copyright Skinned Knuckles Books.
