That Was Very British of You

By Alex Henk

It's taken several years of homelessness, six over doses, two published book series, and one successful stint in rehab but Ameri's life is back on track. Until an email from her grandmother's lawyer lets her know that she is the sole beneficiary of not only several acres of land, a manor, millions of dollars of assets, but also a royal title. Oh, and all of this is in the country side of lovely England an ocean away from where Ameri is currently living. Now this barely put together girl is travelling across the pond to begin one of the greatest journey's of her life where she will have to contend with pretty but irate estate manager's, a nine year old super fan, a well dressed funeral home mortician, and being accused of murder. Honestly, maybe Ameri should have just stayed in rehab...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex Henk
• Release date: Jul 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005531317

Alex Henk

Can I be sacrificed now? I'm tired of living.All proceeds from my books go to charity.

Book preview

154

That Was Very British of You

Alex Henk

Published by Alex Henk at Smash Words.com

Copyright 2021 Alex Henk

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Prologue

She was on her hands and knees, crouched outside her parent’s bedroom, an eye pressed against the crack in the slightly open door. Its cool surface felt nice against her warm cheek. The sensation helped her ignore how the green shag rug cut into her hands, irritating the sensitive skin of her palms. Her knees and feet were spared the itchy torture, since her blue footie pajamas protected them. She turned her head slightly to check that her stuffed raccoon Macaroni was by her side to keep guard. The sagging stuffed animal with its black button eyes was securely in place by her side ready to protect her if need be. Pleased, she then went back to focusing on the excitement happening on the other side of the door.

No Eve! We are not going to accept the money! Came a thundering yell.

She did not flinch at the sound and watched from the crack in the door as her father paced, his gait unsteady on the uneven floor. The movement causing the sawdust from his clothes to rain down on the clean white area rug.

Michael, think of what we could do with it, we could put our daughter through college, pay off the mortgage, and have some leftover to take a nice vacation a serene voice countered.

Her mother, in contrast to her father, was calm. Seated cross legged on their queen-sized bed, leaning back, with her hands resting on the fuzzy pink comforter. Her fingers idly scrunching up the material.

What? Tired of your latest scam already? He viciously jabbed at his wife.

For a man who looks down at what I do, you seem to have no problem reaping the benefits, though uttered calmly the poison barb hit its mark. Her husband's pride.

Ah, yes the benefits. Tell me about those benefits, why don’t you? Michael stopped his pacing to look down at Eve on the bed. She stared back. Not blinking.

I wonder what other men have to bail their wife out of jail? What other men have to be a getaway driver or hide their wife from an angry businessman because of a con gone wrong? Tell me how much the last one brought in? He sneered at his wife's petulant silence. Both very aware how the last job she’d pulled barely brought in enough to cover this month's food bill.

He stood there hopefully triumphant ready to claim victory in this argument. Instead, while looking at his wife who had turned her head slightly to the side, he felt only guilt. He observed how Eve’s face remained neutral, though her shoulders tightened as she gripped the blanket in her fists. Since he did not have victory, he admitted defeat; with a great sigh he sat down next to Eve.

Sorry, that was uncalled for, Michael apologized as he rubbed his eyes the weight of the day, laying heavily on him. Not wanting to prolong the fight Eve moved closer, sliding her hands up the rough material of his shirt until she reached his shoulders, massaging them. Her pink acrylic nails dug sharply into his tense muscles.

We don’t have to take the money, she begrudgingly conceded.

I just want you to take the night to think about it ok? Michael nodded, grasped his wife's small hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. His chapped lips caressing her soft skin for a few moments.

I need some air. He gently released her hands. Eve watched him get up and walk to the door.

Still on the ground she panicked. Not given the time to scramble away she fell back as the door swung forward, nearly hitting her in the nose. Her father’s eyes widening at the sight of his little girl now sprawled on her back, using her stuffed raccoon to cover her face.

Sweetheart what are you doing up? He asked bewildered, watching as she lowered her stuffed animal to reveal a pair of big blue eyes.

I had a nightmare? The little girl squeaked.

Her father looked skeptical at first. Seemed convenient that the moment he was fighting with his wife his daughter had a nightmare and came to find her parents. Her father still seemed suspicious, so she turned on the water works, allowing fake tears to fill her eyes.

As the tears began to roll down her chubby cheeks, her father now concerned, bent over, and picked her up. He cradled his little girl close to his body as she buried her face into the red flannel, sending saw dust up her nose. Michael turned in the doorway to his wife who had gotten up from the bed at the commotion. Her blonde waist length hair, and black night dress swishing around her legs with each step.

She said she had a nightmare, Michael re-laid to Eve. Worried she put a hand on her daughter's back, and started to rub it, creating uneven patches in the fuzzy penguin footie pajamas.

Ok let's take her to bed, nodding in agreement Michael moved down the hall, his steps muffled by the shag rug his wife close behind.

At the end of the hall Michael used his hand to push on a white door that was slightly ajar. It creaked open on its old brass hinges, revealing a dark room with the only light coming from a rainbow night light near a twin bed shaped like a tree. Careful not to drop his daughter or step on any toys sprawled across the fluffy blue carpet he and his wife made their way to her bed.

Ok, sweetheart, do you feel comfortable enough to talk about your nightmare? Michael asked in his deep baritone voice any trace of anger from the previous conflict gone, as he settled his daughter under the downy green comforter. Once she was settled, he sat next to her, the mattress dipping under his large frame.

No daddy, she whispered, burying her face into Macaroni's fluffy body. Eve came closer to the top of the bed, kneeling on the floor grateful for the rug as a barrier from its cold surface.

Ok baby, when you’re ready you know you can tell us, alright? She said, wrapping a stray blonde curl around her finger then releasing it gently.

I know, the little girl drowsily replied, yawning as she cuddled into her green pillows.

Daughter now situated Eve got up from her kneeling position while her husband pulled the quilted comforter from the floor, placing it on top of his daughter. Once their baby was fully covered and Michael was on his feet; her mom placed her cool lips on her child's forehead, leaving behind a scent of roses. Her husband followed suit with the bristles of his bread tickling the little girl’s forehead. At the doorway both parents hesitated before leaving.

Goodnight sweetheart, Michael whispered his hand on the doorknob slowly closing it. The last sliver of light from the hallway shone through the crack, casting a glow onto the bed.

Goodnight, love you, the child replied sleepily over the creaking hinges, and the door clicked firmly shut.

******

The train jerked to a stop. It’s sudden movement shaking her from a well-deserved nap. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes as she sat up, working the kinks out of her neck by rolling it back and forth. Next, she stretched out her stiff muscles, the joints popping up and down her limbs. Mouth bone dry she licked the inside in an attempt to regain some moisture.

This is our last stop, please exit the train on your right. Welcome to Hopeville. A serene mechanical voice spoke over the intercom above her head.

With one hand she grappled the overhead bin, using it as leverage to stand from the red pleather seat. She stood in the train aisle dragging down her helmet and backpack from the overhead. Now, laden down with her heavy items she trudged down the aisle, until she reached the end of the train where the ramp and her motorcycle were waiting. She took a few moments to adjust what she was holding, then placed her backpack on her shoulder and helmet on the seat. Hands on the sleek metal handles she moved the kickstand up, allowing her motorcycle to roll down the ramp to the platform.

The frigid air hit her as she became fully immersed in the outside, pushing her bike until she reached the bottom of the ramp. Now on the bumpy dirt ground she heard the train start up again, the electric engine humming to life as it disappeared into the distance. Once gone, the first droplet of rain fell from the grey sky, hitting her squarely on the head.

The water slid down her forehead landing on the tip of her nose, leaving a wet trail across her face. She wiped it away with the sleeve of her leather jacket. She turned her face to the sky, seeing the dark clouds congregating and feeling the air press down onto some healed broken bones. The wet smell of rain flowed through the air and the animals skittered to their burrows before the rain could start.

Not wanting to get caught in a downpour she put on her helmet and walked her bike the rest of the way to the road a few feet away from the train station. At the intersection, a white arrow sign pointing to the right with Hopeville written on it, directed her to her location. She tightened the coarse black helmet strap securely underneath her chin then lifted one leg over the bike's leather seat. She revved the engine; the bike vibrating to life underneath her. She idled for a few moments but with no oncoming cars she sped off down the road.

She was heading towards Hopeville while the rain came down in thick torrents, soaking through her leather jacket. She listened to the tap tap tap of the droplets against her helmet, enjoying how it created a consistent sound. It helped her worry less about her bike slipping on the road as it slowly turned from dirt to mud beneath the heavy downpour. After passing nothing but farmland and forest for a few miles she finally came upon the first few buildings and the blessed paved street of Hopeville. Excited, she revved her engine again, picking up speed. Her body coming off the seat as she leaned forward. The bike pushed through the rain, and mud coming onto the paved street of the village. Everything looked golden from here on out until her bike stopped.

The front wheel screeched to a halt and swerved sharply to the right. The momentum of the sudden stop threw her forward over the handles, propelling her into the street. She somersaulted uncontrollably across the road. In her daze she was able to keep her arms close to her body with her head bumping along the pavement until she fully stopped landing on her back with a sickening crack. Her helmet gave one last bounce off the pavement then her head settled to the side. The rain continued to come down even harder, soaking her entire body. The water plastered over her clothes, making them stiff and sodden.

Her heart hammered away against her ribs in rhythm with the thundering of the sky. Her breath came fast and rattled, shaking her thin chest. The rain leaked into her helmet from the crack in her protective visor mixing in with the tears drenching her face. With one last stuttered breath she sat up slowly, rolling out the aches from her shoulders and spine feeling the pop of each joint. She wiggled her fingers then wiggled her toes in the confines of her steel toed boots happy everything still worked. Nothing broken she got up, knowing that once the adrenaline had worn off, she would start to feel the dark bruises probably already forming on her body.

She got up from the road trembling as she looked around her for any place that was open, wanting to take a moment to rest. Knees knocking, she looked through the sheets of rain, until she spied a block of light. Determined, she took a calming breath and walked unsteadily towards her bike. It was lying haphazardly on the edge of the street. She picked it up with shaking hands, lifting it with all her might. Once it was upright, she gave it a tentative roll. The wheels slid easily enough on the road, so she started to walk toward the light.

She rolled the bike closer and closer until the light became a solid window showing a restaurant set up inside. Inside were a few blurry chairs, and tables, though no people. At a lamp post just before the door she put down the bike's kickstand. When it was steadied, she raised a shaking hand to her neck, pulling out a silver chain equipped with a lock and key from underneath the collar of her shirt. Its smooth surface dragged across her wet skin.

She managed to lock up her bike after a few tries as her hand kept missing the lock. Once secured she turned to the restaurant hoping whoever was inside would give her a few moments of refuge. She walked up to the glass door, her feet becoming steadier with each step. At the entrance she wrapped her hand around the