To Russia With Love


“You see, ” said Lola, producing a martini glass which she filled from a hip flask, producing an olive from behind her ear, “the nameless one has no soul, it is a changeling which was substituted for the child known as Sharon in the walled city which isn’t as nice as York.”

Bunty nodded sagely and produced some Stinking Bishop and water biscuits from her Gladstone bag, settling in for a monologue.

“But we’ll go into that some other time, we have to rescue Sparky from the gulag, let’s pack Bunty and go to the flying car!”

Bunty gobbled down the Bishop and followed Lola to their rooms to pack as they had no-one living to serve to their needs.

“Well Lola, I think that you owe me an explanation.” said Bunty steering the Bentley down the mountain pass.

“Careless talk costs lives Bunty-I don’t think that we are alone. I also think that we need to mothball the car and get tickets aboard the Trans Siberian Express-I hope they have a buffet car.”

Bunty drove the Bently, then remembered it could fly and took them to Moscow where they took two Imperial Suites on the Golden eagle to Vladivostok aiming to leave the train at Irkutsk to track down Sparky where he was currently exiled.

They settled in to their first class accommodation and prepared for the long journey ahead with the car stashed in a carriage on the train-with an unwanted passenger.

Lola played with the under floor heating and investigated the cocktail cabinet-Russia, or as it was now the USSR made her nervous as her family the Lithuanian Gefilte’s had been expelled by the Tsar for necromancy and bad soup and were banned from holding a license for poultry for fifty years.

Bunty had discovered the “Decadent Western Chocolates” and industrial champagne, also a lamp which turned on and off when she clapped her hands which she stopped when Lola banged on the wall-it was as bad at being at St Frigid’s as a boarder.

They dressed for dinner and headed for the dining carriage with little anticipation, expecting black bread and borsht.

“I’ve never eaten in a communist restaurant before.” said Bunty looking disconsolate “I bet they don’t do pudding!”

“Don’t worry Bunty, all that goes out of the window when they smell our decadent western money.” said Lola, but Bunty had a fleeting and distressing vision of cake getting thrown out the window of a speeding train.

They were escorted by a very courteous heel clicking waiter to their table which was sumptuously laid and they were pleasantly surprised at the smoked salmon and caviar canapés and the rest of the menu which was luxurious.

“I should jolly well hope so, the amount of money we paid!” said Lola, forgetting momentarily that she was a socialist.

“I’m going to have the swan!” declared Bunty whilst Lola took out her copy of Leviticus to see if giraffe was kosher.

Meanwhile something unspeakable dislodged itself from the undercarriage of the second best Bentley.

 

 

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