Chapter Thirteen
Grimauladris

Oblivious to all this, the friends arrived at the gate one minute later and were impressed by the imposing architecture of the building. There was extensive ornate stonework, and gargoyles were positioned at intervals along the wall beneath the eaves. An oak leaf protruded from the mouth of one of them, and water dripped from it as if from a partially blocked gutter behind.

‘Hmmm’, thought Ro, scratching his chin. ‘There must be a gutter there, and the gargoyles seem to form the spouts that empty it. I do believe that it has become partially blocked by leaves from this oak tree’. A large oak tree, its mighty boughs dark against the rich green of the leaf canopy above, and the sparkle of sunlight that found its way through the gaps, looked down on the figures disapprovingly.

As they approached the door, they saw that a great stone arch spanned the threshold. It was carved with the likenesses of the interlaced limbs of trees dotted with flowers that reminded Ro of daisies. The friends advanced, went up the stone steps, and found there a solid panel studded with drawing pins, some of them rusted as if it had long been used as a notice board. Notices were pinned to the board here and there, confirming Ro’s suspicions. To the right, an ancient oaken door stood, its panels gleaming proudly with wax. A distinct smell of some oil-based substance, possibly wax, filled the nostrils of the pair as they pushed on the solid beams of the door, which felt waxy, as if the door had been somehow polished. ‘Most probably by the use of a proprietary, wax-based furniture polish from a tin’, though Ro, rubbing his chin stubble as he took in the full meaning of the visible evidence.

“Oi!” exclaimed a voice from within, “Watch where yer goin’”, it continued, “Oim a-cleaning the florwah!” The red and round, smiling face of a cleaning woman, mop in hand, appeared round the door. “Well come in if yer comin’ in”, she said, “but mind me florwah, and take a-care o’ that dorwah an’ all if it ain’t no trouble to yer! Oi’ve juss finished waxin i’”. Ro’s expression was one of satisfaction.

Despite the despicable grammar and demeanour of this, ‘service person’, the two entered, and found her to be after all a jolly character, concerned mostly that her hard work on the door and hall was not to be wasted. After politely refusing a cup of tea and ‘some cakes around ‘ere somewhere’, they continued on their way. On a polished oak chest of drawers in the hall, Ro’s keen eyes spotted a tin of Mansion Wax and a yellow cloth stained with ruddy-brown marks.
“Aha!, said Ro, suddenly.
Hapless and the cleaning lady looked at him, and then at each other.
“Oh, I… er nothing”, he blurted.