h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Harry heard a distance church bell bounce across the warm fields. Sitting with his back firmly against a tree, he felt the birch bark dig lightly into the small of his back. He smiled and closed his eyes for a moment.

His sister, Emile, came running up the side of the hill towards him. Her face was full of freckles and her long white dressed danced above her knees.
"He's coming! He's coming," she shouted down at him and skipped with excitement around him.

Harry reluctantly opened his eyes. He didn't want to deal with the man his sister was yelling about. It had always annoyed him that she even liked the guy.

It wasn't long before he was engulfed in the cheap cologne that Trevor Trotter bathed himself in and was cornered by the yawning separation of his thin lips that Trevor thought was a smile.

Harry realised that his day dreaming "me time" was over for the day. He thought for the umpteenth time that his sister Emile was really too old to wear long white dresses that danced above her knees especially when this extremely odourous Trotter was around.

He stood up and squinted in the dappled sunlight that shimmered through the softly rustling leaves, frowned and tried to think of some inoffensive excuse to remove himself from the unwelcome company.

Harry really wanted to leave but knew that his mother would never forgive him if he left his sister alone with "that terrrible Trotter person".

Emilie danced up to Trevor and slipped her arm through his. "Hello TT she smiled up into his eyes, would you like to come for a stroll with me?"
"Rather old thing" lisped Trevor.
It occurred to Harry that his mother would be furious if she found out that Emie had been strolling with the unfortunate Trotter, so thinking quickly he said...

The story so far ... (thanks for the input)

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Harry heard a distance church bell bounce across the warm fields. Sitting with his back firmly against a tree, he felt the birch bark dig lightly into the small of his back. He smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. His sister, Emile, came running up the side of the hill towards him. Her face was full of freckles and her long white dress danced above her knees.
"He's coming! He's coming," she shouted down at him and skipped with excitement around him. Harry reluctantly opened his eyes. He didn't want to deal with the man his sister was yelling about. It had always annoyed him that she even liked the guy. It wasn't long before he was engulfed in the cheap cologne that Trevor Trotter bathed himself in and was cornered by the yawning separation of his thin lips that Trevor thought was a smile. Harry realised that his day dreaming ‘me time’ was over for the day. He thought for the umpteenth time that his sister Emile was really too old to wear long white dresses that danced above her knees especially when this extremely odourous Trotter was around. He stood up and squinted in the dappled sunlight that shimmered through the softly rustling leaves, frowned and tried to think of some inoffensive excuse to remove himself from the unwelcome company. Harry really wanted to leave but knew that his mother would never forgive him if he left his sister alone with ‘that terrible Trotter person’.
Emile danced up to Trevor and slipped her arm through his.
"Hello TT,” she smiled up into his eyes, “would you like to come for a stroll with me?"
"Rather old thing," lisped Trevor.
It occurred to Harry that his mother would be furious if she found out that Emile had been strolling with the unfortunate Trotter, so thinking quickly he said:
“I’ll come too. We don’t want you getting into even more trouble.” He spoke to Emile, but his eyes burned holes into Trotter’s narrow eyes.

Trotter glanced at Emile who was gushing with enthusiasm and tugging his arm in the direction of the house then, carelessly pushing an oily lock of dark hair from his eye, he returned Harry's glare with an insolent smirk.

What I wouldn't do for a cup of tea, Trotter smirked and took from his waist coat a pocket watch. Oh I know its a bit early, but since Mum is getting on, couldn't tea stand to be served just a bit early?

Oh gosh you rotter Trotter thought Harry, but smiled anyway, it was important that Emilie was unaware of the undercurrent of dislike emulating from him and the other odourous, greasy fellow.

"Run down and put the kettle on Em. We'll have a cuppa in the garden. No need to disturb mum. Trotter and I will be down in a minute. Right! I want a word with you Trotter!"

"Oh Harry, don't be so boring, if you are after that money I owe you, I told you before, you will just have to wait. It costs a lot of money to be "The Man" you know".

"Actually", replied Harry, "I wasn't going to mention the money you have owed me since Christmas, but now you mention it you did promise to pay me back within the month, well chum it's been several months now, I shall want some bally interest".

"Whatever" sneered Trevor "At the moment I am more interested in what your little sister has to offer" he leered at Harry, "and I am not talking about financial interest either".

Harry heard a distance church bell bounce across the warm fields. Sitting with his back firmly against a tree, he felt the birch bark dig lightly into the small of his back. He smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. His sister, Emile, came running up the side of the hill towards him. Her face was full of freckles and her long white dress danced above her knees.
"He's coming! He's coming," she shouted down at him and skipped with excitement around him. Harry reluctantly opened his eyes. He didn't want to deal with the man his sister was yelling about. It had always annoyed him that she even liked the guy. It wasn't long before he was engulfed in the cheap cologne that Trevor Trotter bathed himself in and was cornered by the yawning separation of his thin lips that Trevor thought was a smile. Harry realised that his day dreaming ‘me time’ was over for the day. He thought for the umpteenth time that his sister Emile was really too old to wear long white dresses that danced above her knees especially when this extremely odourous Trotter was around. He stood up and squinted in the dappled sunlight that shimmered through the softly rustling leaves, frowned and tried to think of some inoffensive excuse to remove himself from the unwelcome company. Harry really wanted to leave but knew that his mother would never forgive him if he left his sister alone with ‘that terrible Trotter person’.
Emile danced up to Trevor and slipped her arm through his.
"Hello TT,” she smiled up into his eyes, “would you like to come for a stroll with me?"
"Rather old thing," lisped Trevor.
It occurred to Harry that his mother would be furious if she found out that Emile had been strolling with the unfortunate Trotter, so thinking quickly he said:
“I’ll come too. We don’t want you getting into even more trouble.” He spoke to Emile, but his eyes burned holes into Trotter’s narrow eyes.
Trotter glanced at Emile who was gushing with enthusiasm and tugging his arm in the direction of the house then, carelessly pushing an oily lock of dark hair from his eye, he returned Harry's glare with an insolent smirk.
"What I wouldn't do for a cup of tea," Trotter smirked and took from his waist coat a pocket watch. "Oh I know its a bit early, but since Mum is getting on, couldn't tea stand to be served just a bit early?"
'Oh gosh you rotter Trotter,' thought Harry, but smiled anyway, it was important that Emile was unaware of the undercurrent of dislike emulating from him and the other odourous, greasy fellow.
"Run down and put the kettle on Em. We'll have a cuppa in the garden. No need to disturb mum. Trotter and I will be down in a minute."
"Right! I want a word with you Trotter!"
"Oh Harry, don't be so boring, if you are after that money I owe you, I told you before, you will just have to wait. It costs a lot of money to be "The Man" you know".
"Actually", replied Harry, "I wasn't going to mention the money you have owed me since Christmas, but now you mention it you did promise to pay me back within the month, well chum it's been several months now, I shall want some bally interest".
"Whatever," sneered Trevor. "At the moment I am more interested in what your little sister has to offer," he leered at Harry, "and I am not talking about financial interest either". Harry moved forward in a fit of rage, Trevor moved back slightly.
Suddenly, Simon appeared from nowhere and stood between the gladiators.
"Easy fellows ... let's not do anything hasty!"

"Step aside Simon and mind your own bally business" said Harry between clenched teeth. "This rotter Trotter deserves a bloody nose and I am going to give it to him, he has been asking for it for years and just because he is the bally son of the Preacher Man everyone steps carefully around him and he is a bally scoundrel".

Scoundrel...perhaps, Trotter, drawled. Yet what would mother think if she didn't have the honor of having the Parson Trotter in the family? Think well Harry, had it not been for the kindness of my father do you really think that your dear departed father who, taken in that hunting accident, and leaving so many details left undone, where would your family be? Such a small price really, Harry, in fact with such a dowry why haven't suitors been lining up at the door?

Harry felt as if he had been punched in the solar plexus. The mention of his beloved father and the dreadful hunting "accident" that had left his mother a widow and him and his sister Emilie without a father or answers to so many questions.

Harry hated Trevor and his holy than thou father Parson Trotter. Harry would always suspect that Parson Trotter had more to do with his father's hunting accident than they would ever know. How strange the hunting dogs behaved around Parson Trotter. Harry's father had loved Butch the Beagle more than any of the other dogs and Butch growled and howled when Parson Trotter was around.

Pay this prat no mind, Simon said taking Harry by the arm. Let's go and have a pint with proper folks. Harry glowered at Trevor, yeah proper folks that's it.
As Trevor went down the path leading to the modest home of Eimile his thoughts were: What is this place but mud and clods of people?! That he might have been at University, or even London, but no this place. With its dirt and manure and never being too far from either, how could his father groom him to become a country gentleman farmer?! No matter how I attend to my appearance, no matter how careful were I tread, this mud finds its way to my shoes, into my hose, and under my nails. Harry and Simon off to the pub, to have a proper pint! Mud and smoke and hey how's the lad? Would they know what a fine pair of kid skin gloves felt like on those meat hooks they called hands?! I think not, but Emily does and she too yearns for anything else but this mud and brats chasing after her skirts to grow up into, how's the lad?

Harry heard a distance church bell bounce across the warm fields. Sitting with his back firmly against a tree, he felt the birch bark dig lightly into the small of his back. He smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. His sister, Emile, came running up the side of the hill towards him. Her face was full of freckles and her long white dress danced above her knees.
"He's coming! He's coming," she shouted down at him and skipped with excitement around him. Harry reluctantly opened his eyes. He didn't want to deal with the man his sister was yelling about. It had always annoyed him that she even liked the guy. It wasn't long before he was engulfed in the cheap cologne that Trevor Trotter bathed himself in and was cornered by the yawning separation of his thin lips that Trevor thought was a smile. Harry realised that his day dreaming ‘me time’ was over for the day. He thought for the umpteenth time that his sister Emile was really too old to wear long white dresses that danced above her knees especially when this extremely odourous Trotter was around. He stood up and squinted in the dappled sunlight that shimmered through the softly rustling leaves, frowned and tried to think of some inoffensive excuse to remove himself from the unwelcome company. Harry really wanted to leave but knew that his mother would never forgive him if he left his sister alone with ‘that terrible Trotter person’.
Emile danced up to Trevor and slipped her arm through his.
"Hello TT,” she smiled up into his eyes, “would you like to come for a stroll with me?"
"Rather old thing," lisped Trevor.
It occurred to Harry that his mother would be furious if she found out that Emile had been strolling with the unfortunate Trotter, so thinking quickly he said:
“I’ll come too. We don’t want you getting into even more trouble.” He spoke to Emile, but his eyes burned holes into Trotter’s narrow eyes.
Trotter glanced at Emile who was gushing with enthusiasm and tugging his arm in the direction of the house then, carelessly pushing an oily lock of dark hair from his eye, he returned Harry's glare with an insolent smirk.
"What I wouldn't do for a cup of tea," Trotter smirked and took from his waist coat a pocket watch. "Oh I know it’s a bit early, but since Mum is getting on, couldn't tea stand to be served just a bit early?"
”Oh gosh you rotter Trotter,' thought Harry, but smiled anyway, it was important that Emile was unaware of the undercurrent of dislike emulating from him and the other odourous, greasy fellow.
"Run down and put the kettle on, Em! We'll have a cuppa in the garden. No need to disturb mum. Trotter and I will be down in a minute."
"Right! I want a word with you, Trotter!"
"Oh Harry, don't be so boring, if you are after that money I owe you, I told you before, you will just have to wait. It costs a lot of money to be ‘The Man’, you know".
"Actually", replied Harry, "I wasn't going to mention the money you have owed me since Christmas, but now you mention it you did promise to pay me back within the month, well chum it's been several months now, I shall want some bally interest".
"Whatever," sneered Trevor. "At the moment I am more interested in what your little sister has to offer," he leered at Harry, "and I am not talking about financial interest either". Harry moved forward in a fit of rage, Trevor moved back slightly.
Suddenly, Simon appeared from nowhere and stood between the gladiators.
"Easy fellows ... let's not do anything hasty!"
"Step aside Simon and mind your own bally business," said Harry between clenched teeth. "This rotter, Trotter deserves a bloody nose and I am going to give it to him, he has been asking for it for years and just because he is the bally son of the preacher man everyone steps carefully around him and he is a bally scoundrel".
“Scoundrel ... perhaps,” Trotter, drawled. “Yet what would mother think if she didn't have the honour of having the Parson Trotter in the family? Think well Harry, had it not been for the kindness of my father, do you really think that your dear departed father who, taken in that hunting accident, and leaving so many details left undone, where would your family be? Such a small price really, Harry, in fact with such a dowry why haven't suitors been lining up at the door?”
Harry felt as if he had been punched in the solar plexus. The mention of his beloved father and the dreadful hunting "accident" that had left his mother a widow and him and his sister Emilie without a father or answers to so many questions.
Harry hated Trevor and his holier-than-thou father Parson Trotter. Harry would always suspect that Parson Trotter had more to do with his father's hunting accident than they would ever know. How strange the hunting dogs behaved around Parson Trotter. Harry's father had loved Butch the Beagle more than any of the other dogs and Butch growled and howled when Parson Trotter was around.
“Pay this prat no mind,” Simon said, taking Harry by the arm. “Let's go and have a pint with proper folks.” Harry glowered at Trevor, “yeah, proper folks, that's it.”
As Trevor went down the path leading to the modest home of Emile, his thoughts were: ‘What is this place but mud and clods of people?’ That he might have been at University, or even London, but not this place.’ With its dirt and manure and never being too far from either, how could his father groom him to become a country gentleman farmer? ‘No matter how I attend to my appearance, no matter how careful were I tread; this mud finds its way to my shoes, into my hose, and under my nails.’
Harry and Simon went off to the pub, to have a proper pint! Mud and smoke and … ‘hey, how's the lad?’ Would they know what a fine pair of kid-skin gloves felt like, on those meat hooks they called hands?! I think not, but Emily does and she too yearns for anything else but this mud and brats chasing after her skirts to grow up into, ‘how's the lad?’
Emile's mother peered out through the curtains. The rain trickled down the pane. 'Where is that boy?' she murmured under her breath.
"Emile? Emile ... where is that brother of yours?" She turned and sat back down at the kitchen table. She smiled at a photograph of Stan ... her Stan and an tiny smile returned to her face.
Emile strolled causally into the kitchen and poured herself a mug of milk.

"He's nice, isn't he?" she smiled and stroked her hair.