The Hounds of the Basket Cases.


Lola awoke to a fizzing sound, and the smell of singeing. Her head felt a little heavy and she didn’t know where she was. She fumbled around and came across a candle and eventually some matches. She struck a light.

Bunty screamed. She was in servant’s quarters in a rough night gown. The night gown was nothing to complain about but when she looked out of the curtianed window she recognised as the moors of Appen in Yorkshire. And there was howling.

Lola found herself in a curtained four poster bed of some antiquity in an oak paneled room with tiny casement windows. A more closer inspection revealed that the name Catherine had been scratched into the glass-then she saw the moors outside the window and heard the howling.

“Oh bugger, does this mean I’m going to die of a bad mood like that tiresome Cathy Earnshaw? I hope this does not mean that Dorking is HeathcliffI I couldn’t bear it! And I don’t suppose there is anything to smoke.”

Bunty found a plain but serviceable dress in a dresser and did what she could with her hair before rushing off to find a gun and Lola in that order.

Lola was now dressed in a fetching flouncy number and was corseted up so firmly that she could barely breathe having quickly secured from somewhere the services of a lady’s maid, who she had dispatched to get her tobacco and a clay pipe.

She was sitting in front of a rather sooty fire drinking tea, which she loathed.

Bunty rushed in breathless.

“I think we’re in Appen, a Charlotte Bronte novel and possibly the Hound of the Baskervilles as well.” she said.

“Yes the Grimoire has a strange habit of cataloging the many works it contains under location and does not seem to give a fig about genre or time period. Where’s that bloody girl with my tobacco!” said Lola as the frightened maid scuttled into the room clutching a tin of Salty Seaman’s Shag and a clay pipe suitable for a lady.

Lola lost no time in stuffing the bowl of the pipe and lighting the rough shag, of which she was very fond, and inhaling deeply. She turned slightly blue for a second before settling down to her usual shade of alabaster letting out a plume of grey smoke which somehow suited her.

“What are we going to do Lola?” asked Bunty, helping herself to some Parkin that Lola was sneering at  as if the very smell would make her gain weight.

“I think we should wait until it’s dark-you can make a mistake with a loaded gun in the dark.” she said, darkly, sucking hard on her pipe.

“Lola, as this isn’t strictly the real world we are in I don’t think that normal rules apply-not that they do with us anyway-remember physics?” said Bunty.

“Oh yes, Dorking was always so angry with us-isn’t it amazing how many times he’s come back to life just to try to kill me?” said Lola.

There was an almighty howl from the moors outside followed by a blast of gun fire.

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