Agnes Lockheart

Once upon a time, Agnes Lockheart had been a star.  A real, black and white, silver screen goddess tripping the light fantastic in Hollywood, gay as you like.  Her name had been legendary and had been linked with some of the biggest heartthrobs of the day, every little girl had wanted to grow up to be Agnes Lockheart and snog the face off Rudolph  Valentino.

 

Unfortunately, Agnes' world had come crashing down with the advent of the talkie when it transpired that she'd never been able to shake off her broad northern accent and had a singing voice eight octaves lower than Caruso. Shattered, she fled back to Blighty and hid herself away in the small flat above the cinema at the end of the High Street in Little Hope where she pottered about with her mop bucket and broom dreaming of the good old days...

Agnes Lockheart in

"The Curse of the Carpetbag"

1921

"And will Macbeth be joining us in the shelter tonight as well?" asked the vicar, when he'd quite recovered his equilibrium.

Agnes had a burning desire to go back to her roots for Lady Shagg-Pyle's ball.

By the time Victoria had finished, you could just about see them...

The raid may might be over but that dirty great arachnid was still hanging about...

Although Penny was impressed by Agatha's 'King Lear', she was fairly sure that if she ever blinked again it would merely to be to send an S.O.S. to George...

Technically the Americans weren't due to arrive for another two years, but there was no harm in being ready...

It was good to see Flanagan and Allen on form in the shelter of an evening...

Times were hard at The Union Jack Tea Rooms in the High Street, and Mrs Fox was hoping that Agnes wouldn't twig that it was  distemper in that jug and not milk...

That night, at the allotment, it occurred to Agnes that she missed Hollywood quite a bit...

 © 2019 J. Warrington. All Rights reserved.