The idiots of the village continue to snicker and bicker and spread all manner of untruths about our situation. As our neighbour remarked to us: “It doesn’t matter if you have anything to do with these people, even if you keep yourselves to yourselves – they’ll still make things up about you.”
Ahh, the petty small-mindedness of village life. So the first rumour that emerged since the incident was that my mother had died of a heart attack as a result of it. This I find amusing as her condition as “unhurt” had been reported in the local press, so I put it down to the local kids’ wishful thinking.
Another good rumour was that my mother had stormed into the Co-Op store (which like every good unethical business has decided to profit on our misery by starting to stock newspapers for the first time, but claiming that they are helping us as we can’t keep our regular hours. Not true, you mealy-mouthed cunts, you are stealing my trade for ourselves. Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t ya?”) and thrown all their newspapers into the street.
The source of that rumour was my mother herself. She remarked, cheefully laughing, that if she had it in her she would go into the Co-Op and do the self-same thing: throw all their papers into the street, such was her consternation at our plight. It’s an off-the-cuff remark, but the drooling idiots that populate this place grab hold of it and spread it as truth. Morons.
So now the newest rumour was that in fact a body had been found in the rubble. A body had been buried in the walls. My mother heard this from a customer and a day later a different customer came in with a much more macabre variation of this: it was a baby’s body buried in the walls that had been discovered by the police. Whoever is spreading this shit is sick in the head.
No-one died, no newspapers have been thrown into the street and, more importantly, no baby’s remains have been found on site.

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