Chapter 14: Those That Do Not Remember The Past...

Norman St John-Ferris leant happily on the gate of the drive to Hamblingham Hall, smiling with satisfaction at the sign that said "Closed To Visitors" as Freddie drew up.

Freddie wound down the window of the Aston. "I hope that doesn't include me, old man."

"Quite the reverse," Norman beamed, opening the gate. "Come on up to the Hall."

Freddie drove through. He bounced gingerly over the cattle grid and swung the car across the empty visitors' car park, ignored the signs saying "No Cars Beyond This Point" and continued round to the side of the Hall. Norman followed him on foot. Freddie parked alongside a bright red Ferrari and got out just as Norman stepped across the grass to meet him. "Nice car," said Freddie, "wouldn't have thought it was your style."

He had hardly said it when the door to the Hall opened. Freddie watched, impressed, as a long-limbed girl loped down the steps with antelope-like grace. Her skin was the polished black of a west coast African and her clothes looked as though they cost as much as the Ferrari. She tossed a Michael Kors "Skorpio" satchel handbag into the car, not caring if she scuffed either the bag or the car's upholstery. "Back soon, darling" she called to Norman before peering momentarily over seasonally unnecessary sunglasses at Freddie and sliding into the car in a movement that seemed like she was pouring her legs into the foot well.

A spatter of gravel hit the wall of the Hall as she sped off. Freddie winced at the clunk as she crossed the cattle grid. Ferraris weren't designed for that, Freddie thought.