Charles wished he had been more forceful with Clapper about not joining him on his bike. It had been six days now, they had seen no women, hadn’t been drunk once and by Charles’ reckoning had spent most of the time lost. He had tried for two days to let Clapper give him a go on the front end, but he was a stubborn arse, so Charles had resigned himself to the co-pilot seat. He was taking some weak pleasure in the knowledge that he was barely pedalling the contraption, but even this was tempered by the fact that his laziness just meant that the ride would take even longer. He couldn’t win.
This did however give Charles time to ponder on his impending ascension to head of the house. He thought there was probably enough capital left in the accounts to do some renovations to the place; put electricity in, some better plumbing to the bedrooms, maybe even convert one of the stables to prepare for a motor car. He also thought he’d take a look in the attic and make sure there was nothing and no one, up there that might come back and hurt his new fortunes.