Poor Vernon. words never seemed to fall in convivial combinations lately.
Section 132 wants to be incognito
One his way home after a morale boosting visit, Vernon turned his thoughts to Émile. Something was bugging him about the unfortunate irritating exile and Vernon could not think what it was. It was something his sister had said when their discussion had turned to Jenny.
“So she has Claire, Daniel and Pippa most of the time. So what; if she’d let you share them less grudgingly your input would be less part-time.” For some reason it had reminded him of the exile, and his worries about his own escape too. Turning it over and over like a restless tide, Vernon pulled up outside the local cinema, risking a double yellow line and hastened over to the newsagent nearby.
Forgetting to collect his change, Vernon paid for the newspaper and stood reading the article which appeared in various forms throughout the national press.
Watch out, theres a bear about.
‘A spokesman for Media Mogul, Rupert Mudrock, has made public the tycoon’s fury regarding the far-ranging embezzlement of nearly three million dollars from private accounts. Police are investigating the missing funds which have surely targeted one of the most powerful forces in the business and, speaking on behalf on Mr Mudrock, solicitor Mr Minchin indicated that an award would be offered for information that boosted police enquiries. Mr Minchin affirmed that business interests of the media tycoon had also suffered loss; “He will not rest until the perpetrator is identified and bought to justice.” Police have said that they are following a number of leads regarding promotional software distributed to journalists working for Mr Mudrock’s various companies which may have contained Trojan elements.’
Suddenly aware of an irritated knocking on glass beside him Vernon also noticed that the sales assistant had been trying to get his attention. “Hev y’got to stand in the way of door Mr? Please take the change and move aside.”
Vernon jumped out of the way feeling intense embarrassment, and leaving his change fled to the relative security of his car. He re-read the article with growing alarm and turned down the sun visor in a futile attempt to be inconspicuous.
From what ever angle he looked at it, and the papers covered every angle, things looked bleak.
Vernon took a different route to Thetford, intending from there to join the A11 back to Nsansa’s home as agreed. As he twisted and turned through the Norfolk countryside he was in turmoil. Clearly Émile had targeted a dangerous foe. Had Tarkey known anything about it? Were they complicit in any way? There it was again; something to do with sharing.
He drove through Watton passing as he did so a signpost advertising some kind of time-share; Golf apartments or something. And then the penny dropped. Émile was in Spain. What was it he had said? ‘I’ve got a big project on with a time-share biz …in Spain.’ Was Émile really there? He must be. More importantly, was he safe?
Check out the Novel so far on the Nonsense Filter website
The Landscape of Being 