Read The Contrary Tale of the Butterfly Girl: From the Peculiar Adventures of John Loveheart, Esq., Volume 2 for Free Online

sock in his mouth and beating him with his sinister potato plant. Make a mash of him
    ya w n
    I fall asleep, zzzzz Just a little doze. Wake up with a beetroot-faced woman staring at me.
    “ What the bleedin ’ hell are you doing in my kitchen? ” she yells, her face a bloated thing.
    Oops! It ’ s morning.
    “ Madam, ” I say, “ There ’ s no need to be alarmed, I was just sampling your delicious pumpkin pie. ”
    “ Sling yer hook! ” and she thwacks me with a tea towel. “ GO ON, BUGGER OFF! ” and beats me on the bottom with it.
    I dart out of the window, shouting, “ Farewell, good lady, ” followed by, “ I believe your potato plant may be dead. ”
    She throws a pot at me, which narrowly misses my head and thuds against a tree.

 
     
    Dinner with the Grubweeds
    T he dining table sags under the weight of a roast turkey and two roast geese, an enormous mound of roast potatoes, buttered carrots and a pot of steaming gravy. My u ncle , Philip Grubweed , sits at the head of the table. He is a retired undertaker who had made a small fortune after a freak outbreak of cholera and with his savings had bought this run - down manor house. He is hugely fat and has several chins which bob up and down, great hairy pink hands and moist piggy little eyes.
    “ Welcome to your new home, Pedrock and Boo Boo, ” he says, stuffing a goose leg into his mouth and sucking up the skin.
    My Aunt Josephine sits opposite him with a lacy cap perc hed on her head. She looks half- dead. Skin stretched over her face, gums drawn back, eyes glassy and dull. I think she ’ s hardly aware that we ’ re here. I pass the carrots to her. She ignores me and gazes at the wall.
    They have three children sitting round the table. Two girls, Prunella and Estelle, both podgy and blonde, with pink ribbons in their hair, and both aged ten. And a son, who ’ s the eldest at sixteen, called Cornelius. He is stabbing his turkey leg repeatedly with his fork so hard the table shakes.
    “ Stop that, you little shit! ” cries Uncle Grubweed, and belches.
    Cornelius mutters something dark under his tongue and puts his fork down begrudgingly.
    “ We met a most unusual character in the woods today, ” intervenes Reverend Plum.
    “ Who? ” says Uncle.
    “ Well, he was dressed most strangely in purple with love hearts , and he was carrying what appeared to be a human head. ” He laughs nervously.
    “ That ’ s one of our neighbours. Mr Loveheart. He ’ s as rich as a prince and as mad as a badger. I was at his birthday party earlier this afternoon. Bizarre affair. Strange puddings! ”
    “ Is he dangerous? ” Reverend Plum gulps.
    “ Well, let ’ s just examine your last statement where you observed he was carrying a human head. I think you ’ ve already answered your own question there, r everend, ” and my Uncle laughs out loud.
    “ Would it be possible to have an escort to the station tomorrow morning, just in case he reappears? ”
    “ Cornelius will walk you, won ’ t you son? ”
    Cornelius is playing with a vein in the turkey leg.
    “ Excellent. I feel safer already. Do you have any other interesting neighbours, Mr Grubweed? ”
    Uncle puts his fork down, having skewered a roast potato the size of a fist. “ Our nearest is Lady Ursula Beetle and her son, Horatio, who is the same age as Cornelius. He ’ s a handsome devil. Their house overlooks the lake. Deeper in the wo ods is the home of the retired Professor . He used to teach anthropology or some other nonsense at a university in London. He ’ s an eccentric recluse. And just round the corner in the yellow cottage is the retired actress Mrs Charm. She makes rather nice chutneys. ”
    “ Well, I ’ m sure Pedrock and Boo Boo are going to have lots of fun with all these interesting people, ” says Reverend Plum, stuffing a buttered carrot into his mouth.
    “ So, Pedrock, ” says Mr Grubweed, “ do you and your sister have any hobbies? ”
    “ I like sailing, sir.