AMP: Artists' Meeting Place and Resource Collective

For earlier Chapters and an explanation of this dreadful story, see blog: The Cardiff Grandma. WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the previous episode, Schumacher and everyone else play cards. We return now to the sniper-related activity at Ddwwchllyff’s, with Wolfcastle and the lip-reading Librarian.
The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 44

‘Anser?’ There was no response. She tried again, a little louder.

‘Anser!’ Still nothing. Was he dead? Was that it? Surely not, even she didn’t deserve such bad luck as that.

‘Anser Damiou!’ She shook his shoulders roughly. ‘ANSER!’ Had he just moved or was that her shaking? She tried another approach and this time shook his shoulders approximately instead. This was too much. For the second time in as many instances her emotions, her feelings for this man, were seeping out from behind her normally composed persona. This wasn’t right, she didn’t get ‘involved’ with people, she was distant, cold, aloof…

‘Anser, Anser, ANSER!!’

The remains of the vase that had caused all this lay scattered on the floor and in his blood soaked hair. Fortunately it had been a priceless vase and so nobody would know just how valuable it really was. This, and the fact that it now lay in a thousand and twelve assorted pieces, were sure to make putting a price on it near impossible.

Gradually Wolfcastle was regaining consciousness once more. He hazily understood that the Librarian had crawled over to where he lay, fearing he was dead. Yet his fears were unfounded. He groaned and moved his head. Through the fog of his blurred vision he could hear a voice shouting at him as he lay there. He had better reply: ‘Uuurrgghh… What… What was the question again?’

He opened his eyes and he shut his eyes. He opened his eyes. He couldn’t believe his eyes: they were performing incredibly well, even superhumanly well. He could see all four of that woman, two kneeling over him and two more standing over herself, four sets of cherry red lips, eight lips in all, and god knew how many teeth. It was monstrous! Why had he not seen it before?

And then he heard something like a dog barking and a dog actually barking, yapping and like yapping out the lyrics to…to…Under Milkwood… Ddwwchllyff! Who but he would presume to imitate the inimitable?

As heartening as he found this to be it was evident the stupid woman quartet found it otherwise. All four looked back over her shoulder trying to locate the source of the din. The kneeling one’s eyes started out of her head, but had forgotten something and halted, trying to remember what it was. This gave the kneeling womans a look of astonishment. Eerily, when the other two turned her heads back toward the other two, her eyes did the same exact thing, giving herselves the exact same look of astonishment. It was uncanny, as she were all thinking the same thing, as if a psychic connection existed among her.

It seemed like a good time to faint, no telling when he’d next get a chance. Wolfcastle, with the practiced air of the Victorian lady he’d been in a previous life, swooned and succumbed to the archaic vapors.