A VILLAGE CALLED PENCROSS

"Even if it was the forth or fifth time"-

Mr Allen had spent the time around his cousin"s funeral to be useful for many things, not least of all the planning for the party (or memorial service, as Fredrick seemed hell bent on correcting). His days had been packed with picking up several types of alcoholic beverages, a few trips to the tailors and even a cheese tasting (not that anyone but Mr Allen would be interested but he had decided on the smokey soviour). He was cutting it fine and despite how hard he had been working this past week he couldn't deny the little scare just after the funeral had set him back slightly.

Still, as Mr Allen insisted on saying, the show must go on.

"When will Miss Brown"s funeral be?" Fredrick requested shyly, repositioning his fork in his fist and glancing up to his brother, currently scanning the paper with one eyebrow raised. Mr Allen gave a bothered sort of look to his brother and sighed to buy himself time to think of an excuse.

Frederick was unusually tall and thin for someone of his age and innocence, and thus wore clothes that were simultaneously too large and short for him. He had a kind of gangly handsomeness that he didn't know he had and constantly had a kind of shocked and confused facial expression across his face all topped off with a haircut that's longer than it needed to be, a pale skin tone and a total disregard for any sense of style or colour matching.

Mr Allen however was slightly too large around the sides and slightly too short for someone who was supposed to be older than Fredrick. He enjoyed spending hours on end choosing specific colours and shoes to wear and had jet black hair all tucked back into a greasy side parting and the occasional hat and a smile that was equally greasy.

"We think it's best that we don't put Ada Brown, her mother through anything more."

Frederick tried to nod but the movement his head made was shaking.

"You said that last time."

"MmHmm'' '' Mr Allen said in a disinterested tone, to which Fredrick"s blood began to boil, his lungs felt as though they were to pop as the air became stiff in them and his heart skipped a beat.

"You can't say that..." Frederick muttered finding it hard to reach eye contact with his brother and not just because he only felt the want to look at the paper.

"don't be stupid Fredrick. Now, pass me the shaker and we shall continue our preparations for the party."

"Memorial service." Frederick attempted to confirm quietly, standing to push the shaker within reach of his brother.

"Yes, memorial party." Mr Allen said, holding back the rolling of his eyes.

Our Father who art in Heaven,

Hallowed be thy name,

Thy Kingdom Come,

Thy Will be done on ear-

Dr Plum had decided, after the funeral, to only pretend to listen to the lord"s prayer at the services he was forced to attend, after he had discovered he could recite the words in his sleep. This unnerved him and made him think about the conversions with Mr Brown where the topic would turn to whether or not religion was affected by subliminal influences.

No conclusion was professionally made but they both speculated that it was true.

"Amen" The people echoed in drone-like voices, startling Dr Plum into a slight jerk back to reality. He felt a hand on his and turned down to it, watching and feeling as it gave him a short squeeze of comfort, he looked up curiously to see a calm, beautiful face with the corners of her lips turned up at the edges and her eyes wide enough to have genuine interest in his problems or at least seem like she did.