Cragside Quotes

“Offices like these were not built to last, not like the fine Victorian buildings in the city centre that had withstood over a century of wind and rain. The creamy-white rendered walls would quickly fade to murky-grey and damp spots would develop on the ceiling tiles. Peculiar stains and scuff marks would appear overnight and, instead of paint, the corridors would begin to smell of tuna casserole and drains.”
― L.J. Ross, Cragside

“wall against his back, then frowned as he heard a creaking sound coming from somewhere close by. He was about to investigate, when the house was plunged into darkness once again. * * * Ryan swung his car through the gates and was forced to reduce his speed along the narrow driveway, for which Phillips was eternally grateful. They followed the road over the little stone bridge next to the Archimedes screw and heard the water bubbling furiously through its crushing blades as they passed. They rounded a bend and the house materialised through the trees, its windows flaming brightly against the inky blue-black sky. “It doesn’t look real, does it?” Phillips said, his eyes trained on the perfect backdrop. “It’s not going to disappear before your eyes,” Ryan muttered. Then, in a moment of extreme irony, that is exactly what happened. The two men looked on in shock as the house seemed to disappear, its walls blending with the colour of the night sky and the trees surrounding it. CHAPTER 30 “What the hell?” Martin Henderson swore beneath his breath as the lights went out. He stepped away from the wall to begin feeling his way towards the doorway but the house was pitch black and he could barely see his own hand in front of his face. The circuit had blown again, he thought, which was hardly surprising when a couple of old crackpots insisted on living like Victorian throwbacks rather than relying on the National Grid like the rest of the known world. The sooner he could get away from here, the better. His fingers brushed against the architrave on the doorway and he began to retrace his steps using the wall as a guide, no longer concerned about keeping his meeting at nine o’clock. He only hoped the other person was having as much trouble as he was, finding their way through the maze of rooms in the old house. When his fingers touched nothing but air, he realised he’d reached the turning to lead him back into the small hallway outside the bedrooms and the morning room, and the lift shaft was somewhere over his left shoulder. Blind without any light source, Henderson’s other senses were heightened considerably. He shivered as he stepped in front of the doors to the lift shaft, feeling an icy breath of wind brush against his cheeks. His brain was slow to compute the fact and he did not realise the implication until it was too late. The doors were open. The figure stepped out in front of him, barely making a creak against the floorboards but it was enough to alert him to the presence of another. “For The Valiant,” they whispered. Two firm hands came up to thrust against his chest and”
― L.J. Ross, Cragside

“As Ryan faced the room, one person looked on and almost laughed. He was so serious, so wholesome and dedicated to the scales of justice. How easy it must be, to live in a world of black and white and never any shades of grey. Perhaps he hadn’t lived enough of life to learn that, sometimes, action must be taken for the greater good. It was not enough to forgive and forget, or to go on with your life as if none of it mattered. It was remarkable, really, how one individual action could trigger a sequence of events with such far-ranging consequences, some of which wouldn’t become obvious until much later. A person was forced to go on living with those consequences, putting up with the pain and the hardship, until the day arrived when there was an opportunity to balance the scales. The girl’s death was unfortunate but, really, in the grand scheme of”
― L.J. Ross, Cragside

“Anybody is capable, given the right motivation.”
― L.J. Ross, Cragside

“Unlike my family, she added silently, thinking of the stale”
― L.J. Ross, Cragside

“and the Gilberts”
― L.J. Ross, Cragside