Village Yard
by Vivien Freeman
Good afternoon, my name’s Octavia. I welcome all new residents,
help you to settle in. I know that I can trust you to respect
this property, care for it and keep it clean. It’s also
an historic building, part of our heritage. Yours too now,
as you will be staying here. Yes, you will. Have no fear.
Some of you will know that when my party came to power,
we outlawed oligarchs, absentee landlords and second homes –
houses standing empty for most of the year, as this one did.
In all the time that I’ve lived in this village, I’ve only seen
the previous owner once – the day he had to come from London
to sign the papers. That portrait on the staircase is of him. Yes,
I know what you’re saying, he looks a perfectly pleasant
white-haired gentleman, and not at all the fascist bastard
which in reality he is. That’s how they got away with it –
the other lot and their financial backers in fossil fuels – conning
the politically naive, encouraging xenophobic bigots. You’ll learn
these words soon enough, forgive me for digressing.
Let’s just say, that as a native who isn’t intolerant or on the make,
but one who cherishes our past, just as I cherish you, our present
and our future, I wish you all total joy living here, and I rest
assured you will always do the best for your antique new home.
And now let’s go and have a chat, so we can get to know
each other properly, and you can ask me any questions.
This way, please, to the drawing room, where your fellow villagers
are waiting for you. They’ve laid on tea and Welsh cakes which
some of them have made especially. They’re very keen to meet you.
