Miss Whiplash


Fortified with nourishing fat and sugar Bunty took the whip and the hat that Professor Wood had insisted she pack and with her new found energy she raced after the train which had just departed for Transylvestite. abandoning the van she raced along the track and when she was in reach she cracked the whip, tying it around the railing on the end carriage and hoisted herself on board.

“Those work outs have done me wonders!” she beamed, actually grateful to Lulu that she had shed a few pounds.

She could hear Lola getting increasingly desperate as the train gained momentum, “Bunty hurry, I can’t breathe!”

she heard in her mind.

Bunty was in the guard’s van and cut off from the rest of the train, there was no way out except to climb out of the window and crawl along the roof then dropping herself into a carriage.

Hereward had booked a sleeping car for the coffins, not trusting them to go into the guards van with the luggage in case the train was boarded by customs officers and inspected too closely.

He was in a deep hypnotic sleep, but Lola was impervious to most drugs and her coffin was rocking violently back and forth as she struggled with her bonds.

The window might have presented a problem if Bunty had not been complying with her fitness regime, but she slid through as if she had been liberally buttered and pulled herself up onto the roof.

She struggled to hold on as the train speeded through the countryside and had to duck when they went under several low bridges.

Luckily the train slowed to take on water and Bunty managed to continue on at a slow pace to the next carriage.

Branwell sat uncomfortably in his cabin, remembering all the sailors on his last voyage; he would have been quite oblivious to their attentions had it not been for Bunty’s friend Miss Lettuce, as she was then.

He shuddered at the thought and sucked hard on a sherbet lemon to soothe himself.

Lulu was fretting, her stay at the spa had been paid for by Lola but she had no pin money and as her bandages were still in place she could not rely on her tactics of old of finding some likely chap to pay her way in the expensive resort. Or could she? Maybe the bandages could be an advantage as she could be anyone she wanted-the rich Ms Gefiltre perhaps.

Lola had left some of her clothes and they were about the same size and height-the only obstacle was the hair which was easily solved with a visit to the salon.

Professor Dorking had no knowledge of Lola’s abduction so was not surprised to see her bandaged form leaving the salon flicking her ebony locks.

“Little minx, hasn’t changed in the past ten years! Still obsessed with her looks!” which he decided he would fix as the next stage of his revenge.

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