I closed my eyes for a moment and fell fast asleep without the nagging fear of Aornis, and it was nearly ten when I awoke. But I didn't wake naturally Pickwick was tugging at the corner of my dress.
'Not now, Pickers,' I mumbled sleepily, trying to turn over and nearly impaling myself on a knitting needle. She carried on tugging until I sat up, rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stretched noisily. She seemed insistent so I followed her upstairs to my bedroom. Sitting on the bed and surrounded by broken eggshell was something that I could only describe as a ball of a fluff with two eyes and a beak.
'Plock-plock,' said Pickwick.
'You're right,' I told her, 'she's very beautiful. Congratulations.'
The small dodo blinked at us both, opened its beak wide and said, in a shrill voice:
'Plunk!'
Pickwick started and looked at me anxiously.
'Well!' I told her. 'A rebellious teenager already?'
Pickwick nudged the chick with her beak and it plunked indignantly before settling down.
I thought for a moment and said: 'You aren't going to feed her doing that disgusting regurgitation seabird thing, are you?'
The door burst open downstairs.
'Thursday!' yelled Randolph anxiously. 'Are you in here?'
'I'm here,' I shouted, leaving Pickwick with her offspring and coming downstairs to find a highly agitated Randolph, pacing up and down the living room.
'What's up?'
'It's Lola.'
'Some unsuitable young man again? Really, Randolph, you've got to learn not to be so jealous'
'No,' he said quickly, 'it's not that. Girls Make all the Moves didn't find a publisher and the author burnt the only manuscript in a drunken rage! That's why she wasn't at the awards last night!'
I started. If a book had been destroyed in the Outland then all the characters and situations would be up for salvage
'Yes,' said Randolph, reading my thoughts, 'they're going to auction off Lola!'
I quickly changed out of my dress and we arrived as the sale was winding up. Most of the descriptive scenes had already gone, the one-liners packaged and sold as a single lot, and all the cars and most of the wardrobe and furniture disposed of. I pushed through to the front of the crowd and found Lola looking very dejected sitting on her suitcase.
'Lola!' said Randolph, as they hugged. 'I brought Thursday to help you!'
She jumped up and smiled but it was a despairing half-smile at best and it spoke volumes.
'Come on,' I said, grabbing her by the hand, 'we're out of here.'
'Not so fast!' said a tall man in an immaculate suit. 'No goods are to be removed until paid for!'
'She's with me,' I told him as several hulking great bouncers appeared from nowhere.
'No she's not. She's lot ninety-seven. You can bid if you want to.'
'I'm Thursday Next, the Bellman-elect,' I told him, 'and Lola is with me.'
'I know who you are and you did good, but I have a business to run. I haven't done anything wrong. You can take the Generic home with you in ten minutes after you have won the bidding.'
I glared at him.
'I'm going to close down this foul trade,' I told him, 'and enjoy it every step of the way!'
'Really?' replied the man. 'I'm quaking in my boots. Now are you going to bid or do I withdraw the lot and put it up for private tender?'
'She's not an it,' snarled Randolph angrily, 'she's a Lola and I love her!'
'You're breaking my heart. Bid or bugger off, the choice is yours.'
Randolph made to plant a punch on the dealer's chin but he was caught by one of the bouncers and held tightly.
'Control your Generic or I'll throw you both out! Get it?'
Randolph nodded and he was released. We stood together at the front watching Lola, who was weeping silently into her handkerchief.
'Gentlemen. Lot ninety-seven. Fine female B-4 Generic, ident: TSI-1404912-C. Attractive and personable. An opportunity to secure this sort of highly entertaining and pneumatic young lady does not come often. Her high appetite for sexual congress, slight dopiness and winsome innocence combined with indefatigable energy make her especially suitable for "racy" novels. What am I bid?'
It was bad. Very bad. I turned to Randolph.
'Do you have any money?'
'About a tenner.'
The bidding had already reached a thousand. I didn't have a tenth of that either here or back home nor anything to sell to raise such a sum. The bidding rose higher, and Lola grew more depressed. For the amount that was being bid, she was probably in for a series of books and the movie rights. I shuddered.
'With you, sir, at six thousand!' announced the auctioneer as the bidding bounced backwards and forwards between two well-known dealers. 'Any more bids?'
'Seven thousand!'
'Eight!'
'Nine!'
'I can't watch,' said Randolph, tears streaming down his face. He turned and left as Lola stared after him as he pushed his way to the back.
'Any more bids?' asked the auctioneer. 'With you, sir, at nine thousand going once going twice '
'I BID ONE ORIGINAL IDEA!' I shouted, digging in my bag for the small nugget of originality Miss Havisham had given me and marching up to the auctioneer's table. There was a deathly hush as I held the glowing fragment aloft, and placed it on his desk with a flourish.
'A nugget of originality for a trollop like that?' hissed a man at the front. 'The Bellman-elect's got a screw loose.'
'Lola is that important to me,' I said sombrely. Miss Havisham had told me to use the nugget wisely I think I did.
'Is it enough?'
'It's enough,' said the vendor, picking up the nugget and staring at it avariciously through an eyeglass. 'This lot is withdrawn from the sale. Miss Next, you are the proud owner of a Generic.'
Lola nearly wet herself, poor girl, and she hugged me tightly during the five minutes it took to complete the paperwork.
We found Randolph sitting on a mooring bollard down by the docks, staring off into the Text Sea with a sad and vacant look in his eyes. Lola leaned down and whispered in his ear.
Randolph jumped and turned round, flung his arms around her and cried for joy.
'Yes,' he said, 'yes, I did mean it! Every bit of it!'
'Come on, lovebirds,' I told them, 'I think it's time to leave this cattle market.'
We walked back to Caversham Heights, Randolph and Lola holding hands, making plans to start a home for Generics who had fallen on hard times, and trying to think up ways to raise funding. Neither of them had the resources to undertake such a project, but it got me thinking.
The following week, soon after I was inaugurated as the Bellman, I gave my proposal to the Council of Genres Caversham Heights should be bought by the Council and used as a sanctuary for characters who needed a break from the sometimes arduous and repetitive course that fictional people are forced to tread. A sort of 'Textual Butlins' but without the redcoats. To my delight the Council approved the measure, as it had the added bonus of a solution to the nursery rhyme problem. Jack Spratt was overjoyed at the news and didn't seem in the least put out by the massive changes that would be necessary in order to embrace the visitors.