the polish rider

the polish rider
The Sacrifice of Abraham painting
The Three Ages of Woman
The Virgin and Child with St Anne
I'd love to have a go at your cottage," said Lucy. "It would be a challenge!"
"You won't get the opportunity."
"I suppose not."
Some bricks fell out of the pigsty. Cedric turned his head and looked into its nettle-ridden depths.
"Dear old Madge," he said. "I remember her well. A sow of most endearing disposition and a prolific mother. Seventeen in the last litter, I remember. We used to come here on fine afternoon and scratch Madge's back with a stick. She loved it."
"Why has this whole place been allowed to get into the state it's in? It can't only be the war?"
oil painting
"You'd like to tidy this up, too, I suppose? What an interfering female you are. I quite see now why you would be the person to discover a body! You couldn't even leave a Greco-Roman sarcophagus alone." He paused and then went on. "No, it's not only the war. It's my father. What do you think of him, by the way?"
"I haven't had much time for thinking."
"Don't evade the issue. He's as mean as hell, and in my opinion a bit crazy as well. Of course he hates all of us - except perhaps Emma. That's because of my grandfather's will."
Lucy looked inquiring.