'Hey, mate. Strange question but I'll ask anyway; what year is this?'
She was right. It was a strange question. 'You don't know what year it is?' he asked, frowning, though he had heard that some people of nobility weren't very intelligent.
'I know. Silly me, I've went and forgot. So, what is it then? It's not 1827, is it?'
Now it was Brogan's turn to laugh. '1827? Sure, if it was, I'd be older than my da is now! It's 1807, of course.'
The woman let out a very rude word which made the boy giggle. She folded her arms and stared out into the rain. 'Bloody typical. My first job - one of the big ones - and they can't even get the bloody year right. I suppose it's not really their fault. It's the house. Knew there was something wrong with it when I arrived. I mean, that bathroom definitely changed when I was in it. And let me tell you, when you're in the middle of a pee and the toilet you're sitting on suddenly changes, it can be very off-putting.'