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Miniature dancing men and a mystery
Miniature men
As my daughter Betty sat watching the other children playing, my thoughts were on the night before. My strange but true story had made me question my sanity. The words of the dancing men will haunt me. Could a miniature figure really influence so much? Was it just superstition?
The event happened two nights ago, we were settling in for the night. Mike had made steaming hot chocolate and was going through his usual routine of stirring it five times to the right and then two to the left. He had many strange quirks and this one fascinated me. As I sat at the high kitchen bar watching him, I noticed the miniature dancing men on a nearby shelf. As Mike talked, another voice raised above it, one I had never heard before.
“Amy, save the blonde girl, save her,” I jumped.
“Mike did you hear that? The miniature men talked”.
“Amy the only voice I heard was my own, here love, your hot chocolate”.
I bought the wooden men from a small charity shop on Brighton High Street. As I picked them up the sales assistant said,
“You don’t want them, their previous owner appeared terrified when she dropped them off.”
I should have left them but I was curious, the miniature men looked harmless; just happy dancing figures.
“I’ll buy them, how much?”
“Ten pounds fifty pence.”
Reaching into my purse I paid her and watched as she put them in a carrier bag. How could inanimate figures cause such distress?
I was fine with my purchase until today.
The missing girl
Tonight watching the news I was shocked by the headline of a missing girl – blonde Caroline, nine years old. Am I supposed to save her? How? Looking at the miniature men they stare back at me smiling. This is too much of a coincidence, I need to find her. Where do you start looking for a missing child? Mike doesn’t believe my supposed destiny here. After all, why would an inanimate figure talk to me?
As a housewife a mission like this is extraordinary. I know I heard them but how could I? I guess its not for me to question, I just need to find her. Reading through Google there is nothing obvious as to what might have happened. I needed to talk to the miniature men again, if they will talk again.
A Visitor
Interrupted by the ringing door bell, my thoughts were distracted. Pushing myself out of my comfortable arm chair I wondered who it was this late in the evening. Opening the door I was shocked to see someone I hadn’t seen in years. Since my parents divorce many years ago I hadn’t seen or spoken to my sister. Here on my doorstep was an older version of me.
“Hello Amy, we have a problem.” Haven’t seen her in years and she arrives with trouble.
“Oh, what problem?”
“Can I come in?” motioning her in, I stepped back as she walked past me. Not waiting to be offered a seat, she sat in my chair, her eyes were flittering around the room.
“Where are they?”
“Where are what?”
“The miniature dancing men, I gave them to the charity shop as I couldn’t burn them. You were then stupid enough to buy them, they’re a curse.”
“How do you mean?” I thought of my quest.
“Amy, they give impossible tasks. Weeks ago they told me to look for a small boy”.
I thought of a recent newspaper article of a small child found dead.
“Jane, where did you buy them from?”
Rosemary
“I didn’t buy them, I inherited them. My step mother died and they were in her house. Her death was not suspicious, heart attack, but having heard those men talk I am wondering if she was supposed to be following their instructions too. Oh, Amy a small boy is dead because I didn’t believe I needed to do as those men said.”
“Have you seen the news report about the missing girl, Caroline?”
Shaking, Jane said, “Have they spoken again? There’s a serial killer isn’t there?
“They told me to find the blonde girl. Caroline is blonde and I don’t know where to start looking. By the sounds of it those men are going to continue sending us to find children until their captors are found. So, why our family?”
“My stepmother Rosemary dabbled in the occult. The men are somehow connected to her, maybe there’s some foresight happening, but they are made of wood. I know nothing of the occult but do know the curse of causing pain to someone by putting pins in a doll.”
“This is serious,” feeling scared, we had to do something here. How it’s all connected we might never know, but it appeared our family had been given an awesome task.
“Jane, I haven’t seen you in years and obviously never knew Rosemary, but thanks for finding me. Till now I had questioned whether I did hear them speak and was alone. Now we have each other, there must be some sort of destiny at play here.”
A week later
Following different leads and asking questions we had been unsuccessful, till last night. A dream that spoke to me of a long tunnel with a dark room with the dancing miniature men. Then a scream and one word, Victoria. Waking with a jolt I knew where to look. Grabbing my phone I dialled Jane, waiting impatiently as it rang.
“Amy its 3am, what do you want?”
“We need to get to Victoria Tube Station now, trust me the girl is there.”
“I’ll pick you up, see you soon.”
The traffic was clear from Brighton to London and we made good time. Running into the station I shouted to the first worker I saw.
“Do you have meeting rooms unused underground?”
“Not meeting rooms mam but there are rooms, not open to the public.”
“Please send someone to check them out urgently.”
“Why?” he was suspicious. “I can’t send someone down.”
“You will, and I’m phoning the police, this is urgent.”
I watched him talk on his radio as I dialled 999. Not sure if I would be believed, I reported it as an emergency at Victoria Tube station.
An hour later
As we sat yawning and struggling to stay awake, drinking tea, we watched with relief as railway workers and the police appeared with a small dirty child and a man in handcuffs. I couldn’t see blonde hair but this had to be her. I wondered who the miniature men would send me to find next.
“Madam, you were right, this is the missing child that the police couldn’t find, how did you know she was here?”
I looked at Jane and smiled. “Miniature wooden men and a dream.”
He looked at me, “ Sorry you are not making sense.”
“Yes, sir, I know, you’d better sit down.”
Written for Blog Battle – Miniature
For more see An exotic cocktail and a family
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A bad day and the fates of a closed road
A bad day
With a bad day behind me, I need to get home. Hearing Alfie’s angry voice, I need little Billie. Life has got to me, why do bad things have to happen? My dad always said that “just two things are certain in life – death and taxes”, quoting Benjamin Franklin in 1789.
Why can’t we keep our loved ones forever? Losing special people truly hurts. Watching the young woman crying I know I’m in the right profession, but where Surgeon Carl can fix people. Myself, nurse Beth, can’t. I made her a warm mug of tea and consoled her, I tried to answer her questions, but some questions don’t have a fair answer. I’m used to seeing death in Accident and Emergency and today should have been no different. However, here something wasn’t right, a perfectly nice couple in a nearly new car that for some reason the brakes failed.
Just driving down a closed road would have been stupid. The police have questioned the young widow and I listened to some of it. Feeling a shiver like a spider crawling over me, with no enemies things didn’t add up. I’m a nurse, should I really be investigating a murder? Maybe I’ve read too many crime thrillers but this can’t be right.
Home
With these thoughts racing around my head, I pull into my drive. I could now hear Alfie, clearly Billie had upset him, again. Pulling my comfortable woolly jumper around me, I put my hands back on the steering wheel and count to ten. Tempted to reverse back off the drive, I wonder for the umpteenth time why I married him. If I hadn’t been pregnant with Billie, standing him up at the church would have been wise but my child needed her dad, so mum advised me to marry him. Had she known how violent he got I’m sure she would have said run. As I sat wishing him dead rather than the young man today, I wondered how easy it was to damage his brakes. Shaking my head, I know this is crazy thinking, I need to go indoors for Billie’s sake.
Grabbing my bags, I slam the car door and stumble up the path. Noticing the weeds growing, this was time. I don’t need Alfie, he’s a bully and like a weed, undesirable.
A week later
Ringing the bell, I know I’m crossing a line. I’m not the police, I’m a concerned nurse. I’m now going to be the friend, I want to know what happened. As the attractive blonde opened the door, the butterflies started in my stomach.
“Hi Alice, I’m nurse Beth from the hospital. I’m here just to talk with you and check you are alright”.
“Errr, you’d better come in.”
After chatting for an hour, I learnt that Alice’s uncle had hated now dead Terry. Complications of family and loyalty had prevented her from telling the police. As she started crying it was obvious that this needed pursuing further. Cutting someone’s brakes seemed extreme but this seemed a logical explanation. Holding her right hand, I tried to reassure her, her uncle needed to be punished, he had killed an innocent man.
Billie
As my life has turned a corner, threatening phone calls have now started. Alice has become a friend after she finally spoke to the police. I haven’t seen Alfie since the night I asked him to leave, but his temper is foul. Ignoring the ringing phone again, I hold Billie close to me. Knowing things are wrong, she’s crying and I have to sort this.
Hearing the doorbell, I scooped Billie into my arms. Relieved to see Alice, i greeted her with a hug.
“Beth, what’s happened”?
“It’s all the phone calls, the threats, what do I do?”
“Talk to the police again, they can help.”
Sitting down, I sat Billie next to me. In her pretty face I could see her father, this couldn’t go on.
Later that evening
I’ve always wanted to be a nurse, it’s my vocation. Helping and making people better is what I do. Wishing people dead is not me. I’ve always believed that everyone can be helped, they just need to have the tools to help themselves. Analysing my time with Alfie I have pulled it to pieces, blaming myself when he has lashed out. They say what goes around, comes around, so why was it me rocking backwards and forwards in tears? With Billie in bed, I have opened a bottle of red. Considering using my large tea mug rather than a tiny wine glass, I jump as the doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting visitors. Wiping my face I answered the door.
“Hello.”
“Hello, I’m Detective Inspector Charles and this is Inspector Lacey, can we come in?
This didn’t make sense. Alice’s uncle is in the police cells.
“Beth, we have some difficult news, how well do you know Alice Hughes?”
“We became friends when her partner Terry was killed.”
“Tonight, we found your husband Alfie, there’s no easy way to tell you this. It appears he had been drinking and he drove onto a closed road.”
“Sorry officer, what does this have to do with me?”
Alfie
“I’m sorry but, your husband was found dead and he had this letter with him”. DI Charles passed it to me. Shocked by what I read I started crying again, this couldn’t be right, I was going to kill her, (not literally of course).
Here it was, a letter of confession, here in black and white. Alfie’s moods had got worse over the last few months and this was possibly why. He had been having an affair with Alice Hughes and when she refused to leave Terry, he had killed him. The police were sure that the guilt had got too much for him and he had got drunk and drove with the intention of ending it all, he had certainly managed that.
I’m not sure if this is fair karma, I have wished him dead so many times. He deserves to be locked in a prison cell, he has escaped being sentenced for murder.
Being angry isn’t good, I could feel my eyes stinging now. How dare he cheat on me? Hearing Billie on the stairs I have to pull myself together.
Showing the police to the door, I reflect on my life. I have a job and daughter I love, I am sorry for Alice’s uncle who I have helped imprison, I need to apologise to him. Do I forgive Alice? No not yet, if she hadn’t cheated then Terry and Alfie would still be alive; and the violence we have experienced these last few months might not have happened.
Walking upstairs to find Billie, she’s my concern now. Tomorrow, I pick myself up and rebuild. No more threatening phone calls, no Alfie and no Alice, it’s time to move on.
Written for Writers Unite photo prompt
For more see, History of the Old crooked house
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Future musical prospects and friends
Good company
The dinner was delicious and tonight I needed the company. My concerns over Freda and our future appeared unnecessary as tonight she proved she is actually a really good cook. Time alone had meant her putting her energies into writing music, cooking and baking. The smell in her kitchen tonight was enough to make someone who had already eaten, hungry. Her chicken and broccoli casserole tasted amazing. Her smile tonight was real, she was happy and we laughed like ways had done.
Rosie has been discharged home with counselling and is now trying to focus on herself and her small boy, James. Putting Freddie’s death and his misdemeanours, behind her, she knows her life will never be the same again. Not ready yet to move on but more settled with life. There has been nothing in the media about Marcus Ling so I can only assume that the police are still trying to find him.
London
I have been to London and attended my audition. The London underground was typically busy and I felt a rush of relief as I reached London Victoria. The usual mix of business people, the young adults, people going about their daily lives. I listened to a young couple, lovingly holding hands, planning their day ahead seeing London’s sights. Tower of London, Westminster, Buckingham Palace, London Bridge and museums. I thought of Mark, maybe he would like a day sightseeing, taking in the atmosphere and hustle and bustle. It’s a world away from the peace and serenity of the New Forest countryside.
Arriving at Harper Music I was struck by the grandeur of the three-storey building. Glass fronted with bold gold letters and musical clefs. Walking through the heavy glass door I stumbled, the impractical heels on my boots letting me down. A huge welcoming red rug with more musical notes in the foyer with an overwhelming dark wood reception desk greeted me.
Nervously I approached the suited receptionist, her name badge read, Jane Dawes.
“Hello, I have a meeting with Mr Harper.” Jane nodded and typed on her computer then motioning with her right hand towards a row of settees said coldly,
“Please sit down, he will be with you soon.”
Picking up ‘Rolling Stone’ magazine, I settled myself into a warm sofa. Reading about David Bowie, I wondered where my career was headed. I didn’t hear the footsteps approaching me, as I heard a calm voice.
“Hello Miss Wells.”
I looked up and saw a stooped over man in a smart suit, with hair that looked like cotton wool facing me.
“Yes, hello, Mr Harper?”
“Come with me, Miss Wells.”
The audition
He appeared friendly but business like. The butterflies started jumping hard around my stomach and I started to wonder where the toilet was. Being sick over the plush carpet was really not a option.
Following him into a large open meeting room, there was a large grand piano, keyboards, drums, and I suspected a host of other musical instruments hidden around.
“Miss Wells, please sit at the grand piano and play and sing for me.”
I was surprised, I thought he would want to talk first.
“Err, play anything in particular?”
“Anything you want.”
Sitting on the smart piano stool I decided to play my favourite. Seemed a bit obvious but Abba’s ‘‘Take a chance on me’ had been racing around my head all morning. As I started playing and singing the butterflies in my stomach started to fade. As I finished I glanced over to Mr Harper who was smiling and then clapping.
“Miss Wells, I like Abba too, now how about something you have written.” I wasn’t expecting this.
“Sorry Sir, but my friend Freda writes my music. Otherwise I sing and play well known songs like Abba.”
Future prospects
“He looked disappointed. “So, you didn’t write Baby Blue?”
“No, Freda, my friend, wrote it and I sang it. “
Mr Harper went quiet, then said,
“Both you girls are talented. Please play Baby Blue, I’ve heard all about it.”
Wondering who from, I nodded and started to play. I could see him nodding and swaying to the music. He seemed to enjoy it as much as I love playing it.
“Right Miss Wells, I would like to meet again. I want you fronting this sat at the piano singing and Freda to write the music.”
“Freda is a wonderful pianist Mr Harper.”
“I think I need to see and hear both of you,” he smiled. “Miss Wells, my grandson heard you playing in a bar and videoed you. I was very impressed and had to meet you.” Pulling out my business card he added, “he found this on the bar, so we had your number.”
This could be the start of something, and now hopefully Freda would be included too.
“Thankyou for seeing me, when should we come back?”
“How about Friday, 3pm?”
“We will see you then”, shaking hands, I was relieved that this had gone alright and I could soon leave.
Meeting with Mr Harper had felt intimidating but this could be the start of us growing as professional musicians.
Leaving Harper music, excitement was bubbling up inside me. With thoughts of my future, I now stepped back on to the busy London street, knowing that something big was about to begin.
Written for Grammys Grid first sentence prompt – The dinner was delicious and
For more see, Reflecting on life with tea – Ruby and Freda, part 16, this is part 17
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