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VAVOOM BREAKS SELF-EXILE TO CLAIM,

“I WANT TO BE ALONE”

The actress Lola Vavoom broke her self-imposed exile of fourteen years yesterday to demand that the press leave her alone. The reclusive fifty-five-year-old former star of screen and stage who has been absent from newspaper columns since 1990 demanded that the press stop hounding her every move and making her life a misery. “I thought she was dead,” admitted “Skip” McHale, The Toad’s entertainment correspondent, “but now I know she’s around and wants to be left alone, we can dig up some of her ex-husbands to spill the beans on her bedroom antics for a crisp twenty-pound note and eight minutes of fame.” Miss Vavoom is to give a televised broadcast to eight networks tomorrow evening to decry her “lack of privacy.”

—Extract from The Mole, April 22, 2004

“Did you ever see Anthrax! The Musical?” asked Brown-Horrocks as they climbed up the creaking stairs at Spongg Villas to Lola’s apartment.

“No, I think I missed that one.”

“Brilliant piece of work,” said Brown-Horrocks reverentially. “You would have thought that a musical about the experimental anthrax bombing of the Scottish island of Gruinard would be tasteless but Miss Vavoom’s performance of chirpy biological-warfare scientist ‘Boobs’ McGonagle was both sensitive and touching.”

Spongg Villas had been surrounded by journalists, all eager to speak to the actress since Thomm’s body had been discovered the day before, but Jack, Mary and Brown-Horrocks had just pushed their way through.

They reached her apartment, and Jack pressed the doorbell. It didn’t work, so he knocked instead.

Lola opened it like a whirlwind but seemed surprised to see them. She was wearing a kimono and looked faintly alluring.

“Ah,” she said, “it’s you, Inspector.” She lazily extended a hand for him to shake, then looked at Mary.

“DS Mary, isn’t it?”

Mary nodded.

“Well! Haven’t we all got extraordinary names? Quite unbelievable, don’t you think? Who’s the giant?”

“This is Brown-Horrocks of the Guild of Detectives, Ms. Vavoom, and he’s not technically a giant. He’s a big fan of your work.”

“Oh, Brown-Horrocks,” she cooed, “you are indeed my biggest fan!”

“Kjdshdieupw,” said Brown-Horrocks, struck inarticulate in her presence.

“Won’t you all come in?”

She walked away without waiting for an answer, and they followed. Her apartment smelled of lavender, and the walls were adorned with black-and-white photographs of Lola as a young woman with the stars of the screen and stage in the seventies and eighties.

“So you kept good company?” asked Jack as he pointed at a photo of her with Giorgio Porgia. She pulled down one of the blinds on the window and laughed a high, shrill laugh.

“In the early days. He was a charming man, Inspector. When one searches for exciting men who treat a girl with respect, one is willing to overlook the shadier aspects. Gentlemen like Giorgio just don’t exist anymore, either side of the law.”

The room was lit mostly by table lamps. There were several drapes hanging on the walls, and all around them were the collected memorabilia of her short yet illustrious film career. Her Milton was on the mantelpiece, in pride of place among an impressive array of other awards. She lay on a chaise longue and indicated the chairs opposite her. “Please.”

They sat down.

“A few questions, Ms. Vavoom. You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I was rather hoping you’d have that handsome constable with you. How can I help?”

“We’d like to know a little bit more about Humpty Dumpty—and women.”

She looked up at the ceiling and placed her head on one side. “He was devoted to his first wife.”

“Lucinda Muffet-Dumpty?”

“Yes; he never really got over her death. She died in a car accident when he was in prison. I don’t think he ever forgave himself. If he had been there, he often said, it might have been different.”

She sighed. “Whatever his second wife told you, they were never that close. He thought that by marrying again, he could retain some of the stability he had enjoyed with Lucinda and perhaps recoup some of his lost fortunes—I understand Laura Garibaldi had quite a bit of cash.”

“She used to.”

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Я думала, что уже прожила свою жизнь, но высшие силы решили иначе. И вот я — уже не семидесятилетняя бабушка, а молодая девушка, живущая в другом мире, в котором по небу летают дирижабли и драконы.Как к такому повороту относиться? Еще не решила.Для начала нужно понять, кто я теперь такая, как оказалась в гостинице не самого большого городка и куда направлялась. Наверное, все было бы проще, если бы в этот момент неподалеку не упал самый настоящий пассажирский дракон, а его хозяин с маленьким сыном не оказались ранены и доставлены в ту же гостиницу, в который живу я.Спасая мальчика, я умерла и попала в другой мир в тело молоденькой девушки. А ведь я уже настроилась на тихую старость в кругу детей и внуков. Но теперь придется разбираться с проблемами другого ребенка, чтобы понять, куда пропала его мать и продолжают пропадать все женщины его отца. Может, нужно хватать мальца и бежать без оглядки? Но почему мне кажется, что его отец ни при чем? Или мне просто хочется в это верить?

Катерина Александровна Цвик

Любовное фэнтези, любовно-фантастические романы / Детективная фантастика / Юмористическая фантастика