12. Among the Ruins
The workmen had knocked
off for their lunch break. Mountains of concrete and rubble lay all around. A
thin white dust hung in the air. The massive wrecking ball swung gently on its
chain. The school that had stood for a hundred years on that site was now all
but gone.
Three hollow-eyed gaunt beggars pressed their faces
against the railings; sad remnants of the teaching staff.
On the one remaining square yard of lawn stood a wooden
chair. It was a lovely sunny summer’s day. The misty-eyed man sitting on the
chair was filled with nostalgic memories of his past glory. It was Dikkerby,
dressed in a lightweight cream suit, suitable only for the tropics and wearing
a jaunty white Fedora. He sipped at his Earl Grey tea from his bone china cup
and contemplated the ruins that lay before him.
After half an hour he was disturbed in his reverie by the
return of the workmen.
“You’ll have to move, Sir” said the foreman as he tugged
at his forelock.
“Of course.” Dikkerby stood up and handed the empty
teacup to the workman.
“You chaps must get on
with things, eh? Quite right.”
Dikkerby buttoned his jacket and looked round.
“Ah, there you are.” He went over to a figure dressed in
a butler’s uniform, tails and all. The man had a vacant look and a shiny bald
head.
“Time to go, eh, Marjoram. Where’s Madge?” Johnny
Marjoram indicated a nearby flower bed with a look.
A sad creature was kneeling on the mud.
“Come along, Madge. Time to go.” Dikkerby reached out a
helping hand. Madge turned guiltily and Dikkerby could make out the remains of
a wasp’s wing sticking out between her lips. She was chewing.
“Not another wasp, Madge. I’ve told you about wasps
before. Come on, old girl, time to get back to Panama. There’s a bottle of
Merlot waiting for me there.”
Johnny Marjoram shut the door on his passengers and
settled into the driving seat.
The three wretches watched as they drove away to their
luxury retirement and the wrecking ball swung into action.
THE END
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