“Mr. Chesterton-Lee at your service,” said the man, moving towards the door where with some considerable effort, he moved the stricken man, before opening the door to let more of his followers in.
“Where’s Daisy?” asked Filly.
“Oh, she talks,” replied Rev Green, “I thought she was dumb.”
Before Tompkins could stop her, Filly marched across the hall and slapped Rev Green, causing him to stumble. Filly then booted him in the groin causing the reverend to gasp for air, clutch his private parts, and moan as he rolled from side to side.
“I say,” Mr. Steeple, “that was unsporting, kicking a man while he’s down, especially a man of the cloth.”
“Did you do this as well?” asked one of the man at the door, who was examining the prostrate figure on the floor.
“Want to find out, pipsqueak?” said Filly advancing towards him as Tompkins laughed a hearty laugh.
The man backed off and put up his hands – “This man needs a doctor, he’s got a serious concussion, I’m phoning the hospital.” He took out a mobile phone and dialled.
Tompkins ambled over and restrained Filly who seemed keen on inflicting more damage on whomever needed it the most.
“Mr. Steeple, the man of the cloth seems to be otherwise engaged, so could you please tell us where Daisy Henshaw is, and we’ll just take her with us when we leave.”
“Well, Tompkins, you probably walked by the shed out at the back, she is in there, but you’re not leaving,” replied Mr. Steeple, “you’re staying here with us. Oh, where are my manners, I should introduce you to these fine gentlemen, my secret seven if you like. From left to right, Basil, Monty, Donald, James the Younger, Jonesy, Bell-Patterson, and Mandrake. They were all at that event down in Clifton, when you arrived, as was I, but we kept in the background. Some of them were at The Glitz Bar when we were videoing you. There were six others here, but they’ve disappeared, I presume your wife savaged them all?”
Julian Worker Fiction Writing 