Old Crikey Part II
[Please forgive me for not writing the second part sooner! There is more to this. I will come with it soon! Please read Part 1 before you continue...]
The city of London was bustling as if it never slept. The morning air mixed with smog, as Philip and
Carla neared the station. It was the first train to leave for Paris that morning. Last night had been crazy. Lady Victoria, as if in mourning, was being entertained by a bunch of society prudes who came over to be a part of the facade.
“Whoever this Antoine was, he had better bring him home soon!” thought Philip. Thank god, he had a normal father. Carla kept looking at Philip coyly from the corner of her eyes and whenever they could, they stole a long glance at each other. Carla smiling mischievously and Philip beaming. As a Sergeant, Philip was well respected and so he could demand cozy seats on the train. Now, he was traveling with a beautiful lady in a long time!
As soon as the train pulled out of the bustling city, the countryside was a welcome change. What wouldn’t he give to retire in a little cottage in the country with Carla, thought Philip? They could have a little farm and a little orchard in the backyard. Maybe two little brutes too. Beaming, Philip looked over at his muse who seemed to be in a deep slumber. Waking at noon, Carla found a cupcake waiting for her and a smiling Philip. They chatted and chatted, and chatted. She was smart, lovely and wanted to be a singer at one point in time. Perfect! She was an artist at heart too, thought Philip. Maybe they were made for each and thank god that forsaken Antoine was lost.
The day passed in a blur. The shining sun found them on the streets of Paris. The carefully lined streets and lovely cafes and bistros...Philip wished he had brought Carla here for a romantic rendezvous. But Lady Victoria...
“So what was the last clue you found in the room?” Philip asked Carla. “I saw the torn ticket that said Paris,” answered Carla. Their coffees arrived and Philip bit into his quiche when Carla exclaimed,
“Maybe Master Antoine is a slave trader?”
“No, No don’t be silly, Carla. He couldn’t be,” said Philip. “What if he could?” questioned Carla, eyes looking into the coffee cup.
“Well, if he were also, how could you think of this? Is there something you know that I should know Carla?”
Carla giggled and Philip burnt his tongue with the hot coffee. Come with me was all she said. They soon got into a cab and drove to a warehouse. It was this old junkyard and a few ruffians hung about. “What was this?” thought Philip.
The rogues hooted and hollered at Carla and Philip could only manage to go red in the face. Had they been in London... but where were they headed?
“Carla, please stop! I cannot handle this. Please tell me where are going?” questioned Philip.
“Look, Philip, you are a nice guy and I don’t want to lie to you. I like you. Master Antoine is a pathetic creature. He kicked up a storm for everything. We had to stitch the carpets, curtains, clean the ceramic pots and what not, daily! He was any servant’s nightmare!” Carla exclaimed.
“What do you mean ‘was’ Carla? He is alive, isn’t he? So what if he was a bad person, you could not have killed him? Please, Carla? Tell me? I mean to marry you! I cannot have you sent to jail,” a pale Philip asked.
He is not dead. Just kidnapped like the Lady said. But this is not the first time,” said Carla. Philip could faint. He was flabbergasted. Could Carla be a criminal? Oh God no!
Philip? Philip? Called Carla and pulled him closer. “I am not what you think I am! I am not a crook! I love you too! But Antoine...