Cuckoo in the Nest

[ikensall]

**Stands on soap box**

**Sticks neck out**

A heavy door with a dull brass knocker in the centre. Framed by boiled-white stone on the polite street, the panels are unpainted and the heavy wood melts in the heat.

The man crept up the smooth steps, gave two knocks and then retreated to prepare himself for today's encounter. Carriages laboured down the road behind him, their lathered horses shone under the sun. It danced on the windows and bleached the world grey. He turned to his boots; the last word in any military uniform, and regretted his preoccupation with "The Adventures of Doctor Grey" last night. Still, buttons were shining, everything was clean. A convincing enough costume for the cuckoo in the nest. Convincing enough for someone whose lifelong profession was assaulting the safe bedrock under the family home - or the club, or the brothel, or wherever there was something to be demolished.

He felt his pocket again. Everything was still there, present and correct for the good old "quick in - quick out". Now open the door already, let's get it finished with, much more waiting and he'd be tempted to bottle it and run off. Again.
And that was sweat between his toes.
He hated this job.

Then suddenly the crunch of metal from within and the door is swinging open. His senses rushed to him and he wished himself back to the lines of wherever was today's crusade- "Quick lads, they're coming, to the parapets, smiles up!".
He swept his hair with sticky fingers. Took his hands behind his back, and watched a young woman appear around the door.
Oh lord, not this.

"Hello?"
The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile and her chestnut-brown hair traced its way from forhead to delicate jaw to shoulder to bosom and rolled past a gentle nose and eyes on the way, and those eyes were smiling too, were they not?
Just his luck.
Not now. Please go away.

She had on a dress which followed the lines from her neck to sit snug around her waist and fell in pleats about her ankles and it was a sky blue and of the soft cloth from which god had made the clouds and was all as enchanting to see this infront of him as if he could touch a cloud itself if he should just reach out with curious fingers.
Then the pressure on his mind shifted its weight as the smile thinned and those eyes began to wonder what was happening. That pocket was an awful lot heavier now.
Give her the blurb you idiot, we're going in there whether you like it or not.

"I'm Operator-Lieutenant Thollier, from the brigade-"
The creaking of floorboards. Footsteps from inside and the voice of a weary woman;
"I'll take it Alice, back in the kitchen with you dear."
Relief at last, the tank is here lads! And so Alice was replaced at the door by a rounded lady in her middle years. The girl turned into the darkness with a raised eyebrow at Operator Lieutenant whatever from the brigade and a sharp exhale and a twirl of pleated fabric and the swinging of the rich veil of hair across her back.

"Now who's this then?"
"Well then, I'm..."
You've only gone and forgotten the fucking name we're using here.
"I'm with the brigade headquarters, and I've got something important for the Colonel, he's here isn't he?"
"He's upstairs, can I take anything for him?"
Yes that's right, look at the uniform. It's neat isn't it, so just hurry up and trust me already.
"No, no it has to be delivered by me, procedure dictates it, if you understand."
"Well if it's like that...
"I'm afraid it is"
"...You'd better follow me."
"Procedure dictates it." There's nothing like The Procedure for saving the day.

To be continued... (eventually), I'm not completely happy with it but I had a half decent idea for a short story so I'm trying to write it down. Definitely didn't appreciate how long 450ish words would take, C&C welcome.