The Haunted Traveler Vol. 1 Issue 1

45
The Fool
Cathy Bryant
I was surprised when Andy announced that he was thinking
of selling the Hall.
“I thought you said it was a goldmine,” I said, raising an
eyebrow.
“Well, John, I thought it was,” he replied in even more lugubrious
tones than usual.
Less than a year ago he had been telling me what a genius
idea it was, and how it would shore up his marriage and his
life and make him a pile of money - all in the sort of voice
most people would use to describe a funeral. That was just
what Andy was like. Now, however, he sounded even more
miserable - as if he had been describing his own funeral.
“Go on then,” I said equably. “Tell me what happened. Did
you get all the chambermaids pregnant, or something?”
Andy shot me a venomous look, and sighed. He had bought
the crumbling Hall, former home of an agreeably dwindled
disagreeable minor aristocrat with neither sense nor money,
done it up, and turned it into the Manor Hall Hotel. Posh,
attractive and set in what the website called “rolling acres
of stunning traditional English countryside”, it had looked
like a winner. How do acres roll, I wonder? And what would
untraditional English countryside look like? And what had
gone wrong?
“I’ll tell you, but you won’t believe me,” said Andy, looking
glum.