2
It was a sunny
day at Paddington. She had boarded the zero gravity tube from Coventry just
some time back. London was hardly 10 minutes from The Midlands, but it was
still a world apart. Deborah always preferred hitting the tube when in London . It was
traditional, usually quieter than the other means of transport, and more
dependable; even though a bit slow. She had all the time in the world anyways.
How did it matter?
It was Sunday
morning. She didn’t need to be in London till the evening, but the life in the
midlands was getting on her nerves! She decided that it was better to be in
London and do something rather than be there and do nothing. She headed
straight away to her home in Harrow, the congested borough in northern London . It was a small
terraced house, but it was good for her. She lived alone. An year back, she had
a poodle named Butter, but it had died silently one night without a whimper.
She discovered it next morning when she called Butter for the breakfast but he
didn’t respond. She was sad. Butter had
been with her for many years now, and additionally, there weren’t many people
apart from him whom she knew. She thought that people were vein. She usually
gave the example of a lady she met at the Kings Cross station who demanded
money after putting an unasked weird green fern on her jacket. “What would the
fern do to me?” she used to say, “And besides, I never asked for one. Well, if
it were a gift it would have been another thing, but I wouldn’t forcibly buy a
fern that I didn’t need!” There was always a look of bewilderment on her face
as she ended the sentence with a stretched syllable at the end as if she wanted
an answer.
Most of her
students in Harrow College where she taught History thought that she was sexy
rather than learned, but then that was fine for most of them. Despite all her
clumsiness, she had a flair for history of humankind, and a thorough knowledge
of her subject. But more than everything, she was stunningly beautiful. This
usually overpowered all her negatives and positives alike. Most of the males
wanted her to be on the next cover of The Playboy, while the females simply
wanted her to be out. She cared about none.
She entered her
home and after removing the shoes and overcoat, she called for a pizza delivery
straight away and went to the kitchen to have some water. She switched on the
fireplace heater and sat on the sofa in the living room, watching the news on
the BBC. The pizza delivery boy had come. She took the pizza and as the TV
continued to blare on, she went to the bathroom to plug the bathtub and switch
it on for filling warm water. She undressed into a bathrobe, and came back to
finish the pizza with the BBC news. She
loved to get herself into doing a multitude of things at once.
Just as she got
up to go for the bath, a news flashed across the TV. The Newsroom anchor was
breaking the news – “It has been reported that Mr. John Dawson, renowned social
worker and ex MP from Coventry
has been found dead at his home. The time of death has been uncertain, but
experts say that it might have taken place early in the morning. The reason of
death has been stated as asphyxia due to airway obstruction. The death is
supposed to occur after what is being called as an orgy sex session as hints of
presence of more than one female partner are present. The police have yet
denied giving any statement on the matter. The forensic and crime teams are
working on the matter. We would keep giving you live updates on this matter.
Mr. Dawson was a renowned public figure in Coventry …….”
Deborah sank in her sofa, her face
flushed pale. She had just met her uncle yesterday night.
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