The Oxford Set
The ground outside Perceville Hall was a sparkling silver, and it wasn’t just the weather that was frosty.
”That’s it, it’s time for a change of leadership,” Harold Perceville, Conservative MP for Chinewrde and Sucham, said after he discovered the results of the local council elections.
”I agree, sugah, this would never have happened if you were in charge,” Thelma Perceville, his wife, heralding from the American south, said.
Harold’s lifelong ambition was to become Prime Minister of Great Britain. The Conservative Party almost allowed Harold to take the keys to No. 10 a few years ago, but they deemed him too young to hold the position, so he fell at the first hurdle.
But, now that Labour had completely taken over the local councils, Harold knew that what the Conservative Party needed, was a twenty-six-year-old at the helm.
”What d’you plan to do, sugah?” Thelma said.
“I’m not sure, exactly,” Harold said. “First, I’ll propose a vote of no confidence, and if that doesn’t work out, then I’ll consider other options.”
”Even… murder?” Thelma said.
Before Harold could answer, the doors leading to the long gallery swung open by themselves, before slamming shut. The sound of an invisible entity stomping across the floor filled the room, before the doors opened and closed by themselves on the other side.
Eventually, a deathly silence filled the room.
Harold and Thelma were not perturbed; they accepted that their house was haunted and lived peacefully alongside their spectral lodger.
“That would certainly be on the table, darling, but a last resort. The nuclear option, if you will,” Harold said.
Thelma slowly walked up to her husband.
”I’d be happy to shoot him, sugah,” Thelma said. “I know my way around a gun.”
Thelma kissed Harold before backing away.
”I’m not sure,” Harold said. “I don’t particularly want to temporarily uproot the country just because of some less-than-favourable election results.”
The doors slammed shut once more; the ghost was back.
”You could send Monty over,” Thelma said. “He could change things.”
Harold smiled at his wife.
”That might actually work, you know,” Harold said. “What do you think, Monty?”
Harold called out into the empty room. “Fancy terrifying the Prime Minister?”
There was silence, until a ming vase began to rattle on a table, before finally falling to the ground and shattering.
”Was that a yes?” Thelma said.
”I have no idea,” Harold said.
Monty stomped across the room, and with a swing and a slam of the doors, was gone.
”Get Mavis to clean that up, would you?” Harold said to Thelma.
”As you wish, sugah,” Thelma said before vacating the room.
Once he was alone in the room, Harold looked out towards his extensive grounds and the Waeringshire countryside beyond.
“You really need to get that ghost sorted out, sir,” Mavis said, as she nonchalantly brushed up the pieces of broken china that collectively added up to over a thousand pounds.
“No, we don’t, Mavis,” Harold said. “Monty has just as much a right to live here as we do, perhaps even more so.“
“It costs a lot of money to replace the China after it’s been smashed” Mavis said.
“It’s money that I’m able to spend,” Harold said. “If Monty is happy, then I’m willing to oblige.”
“If you say so, sir,” Mavis said.
“It shouldn’t be a problem even if I somehow run out of money,” Harold said. “I can just use Tax.”
Mavis left the room, carrying the broken china in her dustpan as she went.
The sun was beginning to set as Harold and Thelma resumed looking out over the grounds.
Monty stomped overhead. Harold and Thelma never knew whether he was angry or just liked stomping about the place.
Neither of them minded, of course. After all, he was the least of their worries.
“So the party, what are you gonna do?” Thelma said.
“A No-Confidence vote seems the most logical option at this time,” Harold said, “and also easier to carry out than full on usurpation.”
“But staging a coop would ensure you definitely become Prime Minister,” Thelma said. “You gotta admit that.”
“Yes, but it would cause too much alarm,” Harold said. “This is simply a response to poor local election results.”
“Fine, whatever,” Thelma said. “You’re the MP, I guess.”
Monty decided to enter the room, slamming the doors and stomping across the floor.
“Do we actually know who Monty is?” Thelma said. “Or even if he’s a he?”
Monty left the room once more. Harold waited for the doors to slam before he responded, “no.”
“You wanna find out?” Thelma said.
“There’s no point,” Harold said. “He exists in a separate realm from us.”
“Very well,’” Thelma said.
Harold looked at his watch. “Right. I’m going into town to have a word with my councillors.”
“Sure,” said Thelma. “I’ll go for a walk around the grounds.”
Harold and Thelma left the long gallery for the last time that day.
“Actually, darling,” said Harold, “order a new vase whilst you’re at it.”
With that, Harold got his chauffeur to drive him into Chinewrde and Thelma walked down to the Mirror to recline in nature.
And Monty stomped around the house, like he always did.
The Robinsonverse 