This photo, Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt, reminds me of a house we saw for sale just outside Bordeaux. It was a huge place, all Gothic arches, flying buttresses, crenellations, stained glass and vaulted ceilings…built in the 1970s.
The estate agent disappeared into the bowels of the first floor. To open the windows, he said.
“Jesus,” Will murmured as he gazed around what the man in the pointy shoes had described as ‘the banqueting hall’. Stairs swept in an elegant curve to a stone-worked balustrade. His eyes followed, up to the vaulted ceiling and the lethal-looking candelabra. “Basil Rathbone could turn up any minute.”
Sam giggled. “Unless he’s laddered his tights and Maid Marion’s mending them for him.”
Will’s curiosity was caught by something about the door that opened onto the kitchen, heavy, solid oak in appearance and barred and studded with iron bolts and bands.
“Is this to keep the kitchen staff in or the riotous nobles out?”
Sam peered at the inappropriately solid door and picked at one of the huge nails. “Plastic,” she pronounced and swung open the door that turned out to be as light as plywood.
Will snorted and muttered something about the IKEA kitchen with a name like ‘Førtress’ they’d probably find. “When the ad said ‘full of period character’ I was expecting something at least pre-PVC.”
An odd clicking noise made them both look up to the polystyrene-looking balustrade. Triumphant laughter rang out and the light thump of dancing pumps.
Sam’s face blanched as a man in green tights and another man with an evil goatee beard fenced their way energetically into view.
“You don’t think the ad maybe said ‘full of period characters’?”