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fredbassettTitle : Am I bovvered?
Author : fredbassett
Original Fic : Otherworld Investigations Series
Rating : 12
Characters : Briana Wakelin, Chris Bateman, Cherry Bateman, John Cranch
Copyright Notice : These characters are mine, all mine.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Written for the original fic challenge, Bothered
A/N : I am aiming to write a series of drabbles or ficlets set in my original fic ‘verse for weekly prompts.
I closed the bedroom door and made my way back downstairs.
Chris Bateman’s mother was waiting for me in the kitchen. She poured a mug of tea and handed it to me, failing to disguise the fact that her hand was shaking slightly.
“He’s fine,” I said as reassuringly as I could.
“He talks to imaginary friends,” she said. “I wouldn’t call that fine.”
I shook my head. “He’s talking to the ghost of someone who died here during the 1840s.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts.”
I was tempted to ask why she’d called in someone in my line of work if she didn’t believe in ghosts, but that didn’t seem overly tactful in the circumstances, even though – on this occasion – the customer was very far from being right.
“Not believing in them doesn’t make them any less real, Mrs Bateman.”
“I want him to go away.”
“It’s his house too,” I said, but I wasn’t expecting her to take too kindly to a lecture on occupiers’ rights, and anyway, if she didn’t believe in ghosts, wanting one to go away wasn’t overly logical, but pointing that out probably wouldn’t help either.
“She’s right, mum,” said a voice from the doorway. Chris had obviously followed me downstairs. His friend was standing behind him, looking nervous.
“Don’t talk nonsense, Christopher!”
“It’s not nonsense,” her son snapped. “John was here before we came and anyway, I like him!”
“He doesn’t exist!”
“Well, if he doesn’t exist then he can’t go away!”
I had a feeling they were both about to romp off down a well-worn path. I glanced in his direction and got a sympathetic look from John. He had been two years older than Chris when he’d died. From what he’d told me, it sounded like he’d suffered from tuberculosis and he still had a pale, pinched look that was probably being exacerbated by the threat of eviction.
Chris Bateman had a mutinous look on his face, his mother looked harassed and John just looked scared.
“What are people going to think?” Cherry Bateman demanded.
Before I had a chance to reply, Chris jumped in with both feet. “I’m not bothered what people think, mum!” It came out as ‘bovvered’ and his mother winced.
I pulled a chair away from the table and sat down. Fortunately, my next appointment wasn’t for another two hours.
Author : fredbassett
Original Fic : Otherworld Investigations Series
Rating : 12
Characters : Briana Wakelin, Chris Bateman, Cherry Bateman, John Cranch
Copyright Notice : These characters are mine, all mine.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Written for the original fic challenge, Bothered
A/N : I am aiming to write a series of drabbles or ficlets set in my original fic ‘verse for weekly prompts.
I closed the bedroom door and made my way back downstairs.
Chris Bateman’s mother was waiting for me in the kitchen. She poured a mug of tea and handed it to me, failing to disguise the fact that her hand was shaking slightly.
“He’s fine,” I said as reassuringly as I could.
“He talks to imaginary friends,” she said. “I wouldn’t call that fine.”
I shook my head. “He’s talking to the ghost of someone who died here during the 1840s.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts.”
I was tempted to ask why she’d called in someone in my line of work if she didn’t believe in ghosts, but that didn’t seem overly tactful in the circumstances, even though – on this occasion – the customer was very far from being right.
“Not believing in them doesn’t make them any less real, Mrs Bateman.”
“I want him to go away.”
“It’s his house too,” I said, but I wasn’t expecting her to take too kindly to a lecture on occupiers’ rights, and anyway, if she didn’t believe in ghosts, wanting one to go away wasn’t overly logical, but pointing that out probably wouldn’t help either.
“She’s right, mum,” said a voice from the doorway. Chris had obviously followed me downstairs. His friend was standing behind him, looking nervous.
“Don’t talk nonsense, Christopher!”
“It’s not nonsense,” her son snapped. “John was here before we came and anyway, I like him!”
“He doesn’t exist!”
“Well, if he doesn’t exist then he can’t go away!”
I had a feeling they were both about to romp off down a well-worn path. I glanced in his direction and got a sympathetic look from John. He had been two years older than Chris when he’d died. From what he’d told me, it sounded like he’d suffered from tuberculosis and he still had a pale, pinched look that was probably being exacerbated by the threat of eviction.
Chris Bateman had a mutinous look on his face, his mother looked harassed and John just looked scared.
“What are people going to think?” Cherry Bateman demanded.
Before I had a chance to reply, Chris jumped in with both feet. “I’m not bothered what people think, mum!” It came out as ‘bovvered’ and his mother winced.
I pulled a chair away from the table and sat down. Fortunately, my next appointment wasn’t for another two hours.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-18 10:02 am (UTC)