Discovering the Future

Chapter 7- Chapter 3 (Part 2)

Disclaimer: I don't own Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children.

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We squeezed our bags through the doorway and stood blinking in the sudden gloom of a low-ceilinged pub. When my eyes had adjusted, I realised that hole was a pretty accurate description of the place:

Enoch snorted. "Hasn't changed much then."

tiny leaded windows admitted just enough light to find the beer tap without tripping over tables and chairs on the way. The tables, worn and wobbling, looked like they might be more useful as firewood.

"I want to deny that, but..." Hugh trailed off.

The bar was half-filled, at whatever hour of the morning it was, with men in various states of hushed intoxication, heads bowed prayerfully over tumblers of amber liquid.

"You must be after the room," said the man behind the bar, coming out to shake our hands. "I'm Kev and these are the fellas. Say hullo, fellas."

"Hullo," they muttered, nodding at their drinks.

Victor shook his head. "What a lively bunch."

We followed Kev up a narrow staircase to a suite of rooms (plural!) that could charitably be described as basic. There were two bedrooms, the larger of which Dad claimed, and a room that tripled as a kitchen, dining room, and living room, meaning that it contained one table, one moth-eaten sofa, and one hotplate. The bathroom worked "most of the time," according to Kev, "but if it ever gets dicey, there's always Old Reliable." He directed our attention to a portable toilet in the alley out back, conveniently visible from my bedroom window.

"Well, that's a bonus... I guess," Millard said.

"Oh, and you'll need these," he said, fetching a pair of oil lamps from a cabinet. "The generators stop running at ten since petrol's so bloody expensive to ship out, so either you go to bed early or you learn to love candles and kerosene." He grinned. "Hope it ain't to medieval for ya!"

Horace scoffed. "Of course it's not."

We assured Kev that outhouses and kerosene would be just fine, sounded like fun, in fact-a little adventure, yessir-and then he led us downstairs for the final leg of our tour. "You're welcome to take your meals here," he said. "and I expect you will, on account of there's nowhere else to eat.

"That hasn't changed either, I see," Emma said.

If you need to make a call, we got a phone box in the corner there. Sometimes there's a bit of a queue for it, though, since we get doodly for mobile reception out here and you're looking at the only land-line on the island. That's right, we got it all-only food, only bed, only phone!" And then he leaned back and laughed, long and loud.

The only phone on the island.

"Yes, I believe that is what he said," Emma said, rolling her eyes.

I looked over at it--it was the kind that had a door you could pull shut for privacy, like the ones you see in old movies--and realised with dawning horror that this was the Grecian orgy, this was the raging frat party I had been connected to when I called the island a few weeks ago. This was the piss hole.

"Would you please not call it that?" Millard asked.

Kev handed my dad the keys to our rooms. "Any questions," he said, "you know where to find me."