A Mansion Groans IV

Thomasina walked into the Living Room wearing a yellow top, blue shorts, size ten trainers, and a black and white maid’s apron. She sat down on the red armchair and began twisting one of the curls in her big hair, just by her right ear.

Tombie followed her into the Living Room a few seconds later, holding his left ear to the side of his head, trying to fix it back into place. “You look different this morning, Thomasina.” Tombie said with his broken smile.

“Are you a fashion critic now?” Thomasina spat, releasing her curl with gusto. “You’re hardly one to comment on another’s appearance.”

Tombie nodded, closed his mouth, and walked out of the room without saying another word. Glumly, he walked along the corridor and spotted Tomelangelo adding the finishing touches to his latest masterpiece in his studio.

“Ah, Tombie, my friend,” Tomelangelo said cheerily, “what do you think of my latest work, I call it The Essence of The Morn.”

“It’s good,” Tombie said without looking at it.”

“What’s wrong with you today, Tombie, my good chap? You seem down.” Tomelangelo put his easel down onto a nearby table.

“Thomasina’s just bitten my head off for no reason.” Tombie moaned.

“And that’s it?” Tomelangelo chuckled, “you do know Thomasina, don’t you? And besides, you are more than capable of biting your own head off!” He chuckled again.

“No, she seems different. Her hair for one. A complete mess.” Tombie sounded concerned.

“Have you become a style critic all of a sudden?” Tomelangelo pointed up and down to Tombie’s attire.

“That’s what Thomasina said.” Tombie sounded all the more glum. “Come with me and take a look. You’ll see what I mean.”

Tomelangelo agreed and followed Tombie back to the Living Room, where they both quietly peered around the edge of the doorway. Thomasina was standing, facing away from them, toward the window. She was snapping heads off the multicoloured roses that she’d put into a vase the day before.

They quickly and quietly walked back to the studio. Once there, Tomelangelo spoke. “You’re right. She isn’t herself. She would never do that to anything she bought. You’re right about her hair, too.”

“But what can we do about it?” Tombie questioned.

“The only thing we can do. Call a meeting with the others and put our heads together.” Tomelangelo quickly glanced at Tombie, adding, “No offence, my good fellow.”