From torn pantyhose to a Swedish smile (And cheating death in between)

London (Chapter 9)

Awaiting with their luggage at the front door, they wondered about Mr. Coupar`s delay. Any attempts to contact the butler were to no avail landing straight to voicemail. They were 20 minutes behind schedule and discombobulated since Mr. Coupar was the epitome of punctuality. The housekeeper phoned a cab company and was informed that it would be at least an hour wait. Reluctantly Gwen decided to take her late husband’s car, which had been collecting dust for roughly a decade.

Grabbing the keys, she urged the travelers to give her a hand. In the carport under the tarp was a quiescent 1970 Morris Minor in Bermuda Blue. Tearing off the blankets from the seats created a sandstorm causing a synchronized sneezing concert. Mrs. Jenkins kept on turning the key and pumping the gas pedal in an effort to revive the sleeping beast. The car necessitated a push, yet Johnny couldn’t budge the behemoth, and Miss. A swiftly joined despite her glamorous heels disapproving of the labor. It took all their horsepower to propel it. Perversely, they had to drill their soles until reaching the gates.

Sophisticated attire and composure were replaced by disheveled heaving and sweat drip, both scrutinizing the vintage vehicle that was their only chance. Nonetheless, they couldn’t use the motorways because the car’s top speed was 62mph, backroads being their only option.

While Johnny ran to retrieve the suitcases, Miss. A jumped in the front seat and equally quickly leapfrogged with a high squeal as a metal spring poked her tooshie. There was a significant tear down her backside, and Mrs. Jenkins apologized extensively for the damage caused to her outfit. There was no time to spare, and Miss. A spotting him with their bags, bolted to find another dress before throwing them in the trunk and joining Johnny in the backseat.

He averted his gaze to the outside scenery, permitting little privacy in the tight backspace, yet with the corner of his eye, spotted each leg rising as she removed the torn undergarments. Slithering out of the tattered frock, she squirmed into the new one, elbow accidentally hitting Johnny in the face upon a sharp turn made by Mrs. Jenkins. Once on, the A312 alacritousness and swaying…