Read Muriel's Reign for Free Online

They’ll have to lump it. Might do them good – not that we want Mummy to croak from hypothermia and cause a scene.’
    ‘Peter. Please. And Lizzie. Christ!’
    The house was getting colder and Lizzie’s train had already left a London station. No television either and Lizzie withered without a diet of ‘soaps’.
    Muriel suddenly noticed that a foul and continuous wail came from somewhere near the front door. A shrill bleep. Peter said, ‘That’ll be the burglar alarm.’ One had recently been installed. ‘I think we’ll have to put up with that noise until the power comes back or, at any rate, until the battery gives out.’
    A purse-lipped Phyllis came in carrying two candles and with a torch tucked under one arm. She was followed by Dulcie who was wrapped in vast outer garments, and in a towering rage. She charged into the study and shouted against the noise of the alarm. ‘Two trees down. Goodness only knows when they will be seen to. Lines will be jammed I daresay. Not that we can phone from here. And you’d better unplug that Braille machine of yours.’ She glared at Peter who saw nothing. ‘It’ll explode when the lights come on again – that is if they do this side of Christmas.’
    Her bifocals glittered in the firelight as she prepared toplunge further. ‘I’ve got gas in the van so the cats are all right. That is to say that Corin, my Burmese, is suffering from asthma. Other than that someone’s been bloody stupid. Fancy not getting that old generator repaired when they did all those fancy bits round here. I once worked in an architects’ (she pronounced the word as it was spelled) office and I know what bloody idiots they all are – including that damned imbecile you had to help, if that’s the word, with your alterations. I will not say “improvements”.’
    Dulcie had worn herself out and sat glowering on an armchair as daylight faded.
    Joyce had been detailed to fetch Lizzie from the station and Muriel began to get nervy, apprehensive and infuriated. The wail from the alarm continued as she floundered in a hinterland of unwanted consequences.

Chapter 8
    At last the burglar alarm stopped. The emergency batteries had died out and the hall was still warm when Lizzie, in thick fur, arrived, although the tree stood black and gloomy having lost its fairy lights.
    The fire raged and candles branched from all angles.
    Dulcie had staggered in, swearing, with long-abandoned Tilley Lamps so that Lizzie, on arriving, failed to notice anything untoward. Modest, now, she embraced Muriel.
    ‘Lovely and warm. You know how I mind.’
    She sighed as Muriel wished that Hugh, Marco or Flavia might be useful instead of multiplying her complications – loathing her own vacillating ways when it came to any one of them.
    ‘So lovely to be here,’ said Lizzie. ‘My presents are in the bag. Rather modest I’m afraid. Shall I put them under the tree? I couldn’t think what to bring for the royals so I got them chocolates. Expensive ones, I might add. No lights!’
    No sooner had Lizzie noticed the lack of fairy lights than Delilah almost swam into the house.
    ‘Cooee! Just to check you are all right. There’s a tree down in the field and another across the road. No one knows when the power will be back or the telephone. I’ve left Dawson in the dark but, as you know, he’s an academic and is content to be alone with his thoughts – and a torch.’
    Muriel, after more than a year in the house, still uncertain as to who had produced the candles, lit the fires or generally administered, said, ‘We’re fine. Thank you very much.’
    ‘You must introduce me to your visitor and, er, have any of the others arrived yet? Dulcie let slip that royalty might be expected. Will any of them be attending the church service?’
    Lizzie, no longer reverent, was on the job.
    ‘No heating? I’m sorry. I’ll be ill. What a nuisance I am. When did it go out? You might have warned me. I’ll survive I suppose but what