Story Snip from Larksong: Chapter 14 and Rhys Darby in Manchester

ight out!

In Manchester!

But first, a new snip from Larksong!

Larksong is set in Montreal, July 1914.

In chapter 1, Alice, after her grandmother's funeral, arrived at the family cottage to take care of her grandmother's aviary, only to find that her parents had already leased the cottage to another family for the summer.

The only way she could have one more summer in her favourite place was to surreptitiously take on the role of governess to the two young girls...

In chapter 2, we met George, laid up at the hospital with a broken leg. Instead of joining his friends on a Grand Tour of Europe, he's being sent off to recuperate at a rented cottage in the country...

In chapter 3, we returned to Alice's point of view, and saw her bonding with George's younger sisters. Then she got a surprise -- George was arriving at the cottage that very day!

In chapter 4, we had a hint that Alice finds George attractive and interesting -- but also unbearably rude.

In chapter 5, they had their first argument.

In chapter 6, they argued once more, but the stakes were higher: war is on the horizon.

In chapter 7, George attempted a rapprochement. The chapter ended with him asking, "Why don't we both go sit in the parlour?"

In chapter 8, Alice had some feelings stirring...

In chapter 9, during their first evening together, they began to suss each other out over a card game.

In chapter 10, we reached the end of the evening, with harsh words from George, but a détente of sorts before they went their separate ways for the night.

In chapter 11, we started the next morning in George's point of view, with his dawning realization of his attraction to Alice.

In chapter 12, we saw that this realization did not lead to greater friendliness.

In chapter 13 (which I mistakenly also labelled as 12!), a new complication arose, in the form of the arrival of George's rather rude brother.

In chapter 13 (hopefully I won't make any further numbering errors!, George was busy with inappropriate (as he thinks) thoughts of Alice.

In chapter 14 we witness an argument... I've skipped a scene where Alice takes the girls down to the lake and needs to pretend with a neighbour, Mrs Chase, that she is not a governess, but simply helping out with the girls. Then, while Alice is distracted, trying to spin her web of half-truths and discussing the threat of war on the horizon, Lucy gets up on a rickety boat tied up at the dock...

Lucy looked up for a split second, then leaped, arms akimbo. She got one foot on the side, then fell back, flailing towards the dock as she went into the water.

Alice arrived in time to haul her out, and the girl collapsed across her lap, spitting water onto her sister's legs. Eleanor flinched at the chill but didn't move. "Is she all right?"

"Lucy!" Alice said sharply. "Can you speak?"

"Yeth." She spoke with a lisp, quietly, and did not open her eyes.

"Where does it hurt, Lucy?"

"Everywhere," came the pitiful reply.

"Can you get up or can't you?" Eleanor barked.

Alice might have chided her, but at her sister's hard tone, Lucy opened her eyes and began to struggle up to sitting.

Alice looked her over. No jerkiness to her movements, no heaviness in her eyelids. She allowed herself a small sigh, then began to cast about for other details. The girl's sunbonnet had disappeared and, as she helped her to her feet, Alice spotted it floating placidly on the surface of the lake, far from the dock, silver ribbon shining brightly in the sun. Someone would have to dive for it later.

Eleanor trailed after them as Alice walked Lucy back to shore, an arm about her shoulders, to where Mrs Chase waited, hands on her hips. Her boys crowded round her skirts, peering with interest at Lucy.

Alice noticed the moment the girl became aware of her audience, for she stiffened and raised her nose in the air, as if disdaining everyone's concern.

"She's all right then," Mrs Chase confirmed as they drew level with her.

"Yes. We'll head back to the house now. Eleanor, will you bring our chairs and hand me the basket, please?"

Mrs Chase looked like she wanted to say more, but Alice nudged Lucy aside and around the huddled starers, sweeping up their blanket as she went.

Eleanor soon caught up with them. "Who's the old busybody?" she asked, none too quietly, as she passed over the basket.

"Hush." Alice tucked the blanket in on top, then resumed walking. "She's a neighbour of yours now, so it behooves you to be polite." She decided not to pursue the matter, nor to begin inquiring what had attracted them to the abandoned boat in the first place. "Why are you lisping?" she asked instead. Lucy squirmed under her arm.

"I know," Eleanor crowed. "You bit your tongue, you silly goose!"

"I haven'th!"

"Ha! There you are!"

"I haven'th!" Lucy insisted.

The shrillness of her tone denoted impending tears. "That's enough, girls," Alice said mildly.

She'd meant to scold them both, but at that moment caught sight of George, and something about his rigid stance deflected her thoughts.

For a wonder, both girls grew quiet, and she soon heard why.

They couldn't see him, but Albert's shout rang down the path. "I don't see why my so-called shortcomings should have any bearing on your life!"

"You can't bury your head in the sand much longer, Al. You've got to realise the effect your actions have–and how they reflect on the Cunnick name."

Alice slowed her walk to a drag. She had no wish to interrupt the brothers; no matter the flare of curiosity at what Albert had done. Likely it wasn't something his impressionable sisters should hear about, anyway.

"The Cunnick name," Albert spat out. "That's all I ever hear, the Cunnick name. My professors, all they ever did was refer to James, and whatever rumours they'd heard of you from McGill, and what a bloody credit you both were to the Cunnick name."

"What's wrong with that?"

"I'm not James. Or you. I'm not like either of you!"

"More's the pity." George banged the foot of his crutch on the flags of the porch.

She took a few halting steps forward, the girls shuffling along with her. They could see both boys now, Albert framed in the doorway.

"We'd best go round to the kitchen door," she said under her breath as they neared the bend in the path.

"I want to hear," Eleanor said fiercely. "Mam always says that and she's right, whatever Albert's done reflects on us all."

"I hardly think," Alice began, but it was too late.

Albert stormed out of the shadows of the house and stood nose to nose with George on the porch. "It's all very well for you, Mr Hockey Hero," he hissed. "Mr Scholarship, Mr All Around Overachiever. You went to McGill. You got to stay at home."

"I don't need your tales of self-pity," George broke in, drawing back as if Albert's words had come close to piercing. "The question is, what are you going to do about it, now that you've f***ed it all up?"

And now... My whirlwind trip!

I flew out on Wednesday and, what with one thing and another (plane, train, taxi during rush hour), made it to the venue with no time for dinner and barely 30 minutes to spare!

Why was I in Manchester, you ask?

Why, to catch the last night of the Rhys Darby 25yearsUK tour!

It was my first time at the historic Albert Hall, and I had fun looking at the long list of famous bands that have played there.

Photography wasn't permitted during the show, but photographer Andy Hollingworth took some brilliant shots! Including of opening act Steve Wrigley!

Afterwards, a bunch of us waited by the stage door, and Rhys and Steve came out to say hello! I nearly forgot that I'd brought some Swiss chocolate, but I did get a chance to give them to him! There are some great videos of the moment taken by fellow fans.

After they'd gone back into the venue, we all went our separate ways. One of the fellow fans I was with was in touch with Steve, and he let her know that he and Rhys were at Alberts Schloss, the bar attached to the venue. Off we went, a small group of six, and got to sit around chatting with Rhys and Steve and another of their friends late into the night.

If I sound calm about it, I'm not! It was a surreal experience. We talked about the show, the tour, expat life, all sorts of stuff. None of us was checking our phones, or we would have discovered that the strike was over, and we could have asked Rhys about his film and TV work! I'd have loved to chat about X-Files, let alone Our Flag Means Death.

One of the nicest things he said was how much he loves the Our Flag Means Death fandom because we're all so loving of each other.

Then it was nearly 3 a.m. and time to head home. I got about four hours of sleep and spent the next day travelling back to Geneva (tram and plane and train and bus, oh my!). I've shared photos, but only on social media, since I didn't take them!

It was all worth it!

Have you seen a comedy show recently?

Who's your favourite comedian?