writing

  • Mess
    blog battle,  Fiction writing,  writing

    Mess, money and corruption

    Mess

    Walking into the house, the smell hit her, Rachel wondered what had happened here.  Dirty dishes piled on the table; clothes thrown on the floor and Milk left out of the fridge.   Walking into his office she was confronted by a sea of paper. She could no longer see the pattern on the carpet.  This was not like Mike, he was a man who took pride in his appearance and was highly organised.  How could his house be in such a mess?

    She had last visited months ago.  She had sat in his office drinking tea and had admired the colours and swirls in the carpet.  Everything had been tidy then, certainly not the mess it was now.

    Having been contacted by his neighbour as concerned, Rachel was not sure what to think. Reggie had not seen him for over a week and having let himself into the house had been taken aback by the state of the place.  The only number he had was Rachel’s. Phoning the police had seemed extreme.

    Now stood here, Rachel did just that.  This was not like her brother, where was he?

    Police

    As Detective George Smith read through the scattered paperwork, photos were taken of the state of the house. It appeared that Mike was involved in finance and large sums of it.  Trying to work out what had happened here. Judging by the mess it was obvious that there had been a disturbance and Mike had possibly been taken. Running client names through the police database they were drawing a blank.

    His work appeared legitimate, what were they missing? Or had the perpetrator found what he wanted, taking all evidence.  He thought about Densmead Finance, he wondered if the answer might lie with his employees.

    Densmead Finance

    George noted how nervous the receptionist appeared. He introduced himself not wanting to intimidate her.

    “Is this about Mike? He’s been missing days.”

    “Lizzie, can you go and check on Beth?”

    He noted the large man walking towards him and was immediately suspicious.

    Reggie

    Sat in Reggie’s garden, she could see the police at work in Mike’s house. She had not been allowed to stay but had been advised that they might need her and Reggie for questioning later. Listening to his chatter she had dismissed it as just chatter, nothing important.  Until she realised that his observations could be crucial to this case. However, she then wondered what this meant for her brother.

    Over the last few months, he had often had visitors and had rarely left his house. He had always remained friendly with Reggie on the odd occasions when he had seen him. Apologising for the noise and then complaining about lack of sleep.  So, what did this mean? Who were the visitors? What mess had her brother got himself into?

    Densmead Finance

    “Has that pesky Policeman gone Bill?”

    “Yes, he’s gone.  We need to get this cleaned up before they work us out.  There’s to much at stake to lose out now”.

    “And Lizzie, how did she fair?”

    “Ted, that woman is a liability and needs to go, Mike should’ve never hired her”

    “We needed a front, we needed a receptionist”.

    Lizzie

    She had watched the Detective leave. Knowing that something was not right she decided to approach Bill Page, one of the managers.  Hesitating at his door she heard her name mentioned.

    “There’s not much going on between Lizzie’s ears.  She would’ve dropped us all in it if I hadn’t stopped her. She needs to go!”

    The tone on his voice was not friendly. She was not as stupid as Bill might think.  Walking quickly back to her desk she grabbed her bag and coat and walked out.  She didn’t need this job, certainly not one where the boss vanishes and then the staff seem to be in on something. The companies business was finance, she could only imagine that large sums of money were involved.

    Heading for the police station she would find the detective again and then possibly take herself on a long holiday.  She was not staying around to find out what, she needs to go, actually meant.

    Mike Densmead

    Sitting in his hotel room, he had fooled the police and his sister. The old guy next door didn’t know anything, and his offices and staff gave the perfect front.  Shifting large sums of cash all day had made him a very wealthy man and now he was sat on the heist of the century.  Soon they would find his car, burnt out with a body inside and they would assume that he had a nasty accident.  The house had been left in a state to give the impression that he was in danger and all-important incriminating paperwork was with him. Not on any hard drive for the police to find.

    He smiled as he thought of the office, of the staff who had trusted him, he now didn’t care.  He had a new life, and they would all soon not be his concern, he lived by the motto to trust no one.

    Densmead Finance

    As Bill pushed the button on the photocopier, he heard the familiar whirr and then ticking started.  Unsure what was happening he shouted, but it was too late. Set on a timer for this day there was a loud bang as it caught fire along with everything in its wake. Bill was thrown back violently, and the alarms started to sound.

    A month later

    Not many had survived the Densmead Finance fire. Lizzie had shared what she knew, before leaving to spend time with friends in Edinburgh.  Police had found Mike’s car but had not been convinced that it was him inside.  Going round in merry circles for  a perpetrator they had finally found Mike alive in Spain, he was found on cameras at the airport and then the police had liaised with the local authorities.

    Mike had now swapped comfortable living for a police cell.  With murder charges, theft and money laundering he would be inside for many years. His smug happiness had not lasted long and now he wanted to be back in his small house with his annoying nosey elderly neighbour and infrequent visits from his sister.

    How things change.  Looking at the four walls of his cell, he reflected on his life.  What a mess he had made of it. Things couldn’t get any worse, or could they? What could be worse than this?

    Written for Blog battle -Messy

    For more see A perfect ending to a painful day – Blog Battle- Perfect

  • Umbrellas travelling
    Fiction writing,  writing

    Travelling and chaos

    Travelling

    Meeting Juan had been an accident, something that should not have happened.  As Ted stormed out of my life in a fire of hatred, the small restaurant around me went still.  I felt myself go warm as I looked at all the stunned faces, were they blaming me for his outburst? Here’s what had happened?

    Ted and I had only been seriously dating six months when he suggested that we go travelling together.  The thought of skipping from one country to another sounded fun. Much better than working for a communications company talking to disgruntled customers all day.  I had told my boss where to stick his job and agreed to spend time with Ted on the open road.   This is not what it looks like in the films, they are just Hollywood make believe, this was real!

    Ted

    From Teds map reading skills to the Sat Nav taking us into fields. To aeroplanes not leaving the airport on time, to the crowded planes and miserable crying children.  From the boredom of the airports and not all are as pleasant as London Gatwick. To the cold rotten food in the restaurants.  This was not a romantic story with a happy ending for me and Ted.  The arguments had got worse as the weeks had gone on. He no longer liked to hear me laugh or make a joke. Suggesting we go back to England had been met with the fact that we were here to see the world.

    Our time in Greece had been fun, but both of us had ended up in a swimming pool more then sightseeing.  The intense heat was incredible.

    However other places hadn’t been so easy! Ted was interested in the history of places and reading every information sheet about it.  I’m happy just to listen and look, after months of travelling, I was ready for months of sleep.

    The Rue du’ Canard

    After a traumatic drive to find tonight’s restaurant, once more finding a muddy field before finding the ‘Rue du’ Canard’ car park, which consequentially was busy.   I was now sat here in a silent French restaurant alone.  My bags and passport were in a dingy hotel and I’m sure Ted has taken the car.  Watching the ducks wandering around, I wondered for a fleeting moment if they end up as dinner.   Through my tears I giggled to myself.  Ted would hate it that I’m giggling.  This was not a funny moment. Stuck in France alone, what now?  I could see the umbrellas suspended from wires outside, adding to the ambience of the restaurant, but I’m not sure about the ambience of duck poop.

    As the waiter brought me a glass of wine, I looked at his smiling face realising that Ted had also left me the bill. I thought again of the ducks and now my giggling turned to sobbing.  Talking in broken French he was not understanding me. Gesticulating about the food and the wine and I think the lovely restaurant, I could feel myself sinking.  Could this trip get any worse?  As I sat, I could feel the eyes upon me, how was I going to get out of this one?

    Help

    As a man appeared talking French, I didn’t know what he had said, but he appeared official. As I followed him out, I saw his car with Gendarme written down the side.   Looking up at the fancy umbrellas I just wanted to go back to England, back to my job that I had hated so much.  As he pushed me into back, I was not sure what I had done, but I didn’t know the French to argue and certainly couldn’t afford to pay the bill in the restaurant.

    The Gendarmerie

    Reaching the police station, I was offered an Interpreter. A smart dressed man, possibly mid 30s with brown short hair and a friendly smile, who introduced himself as Juan.  He explained why I was now sat in this busy Gendarmerie.  The restaurant had phoned the police due to Teds outburst and then I struggled to keep a straight face at what happened next. As Ted had walked out, he had pulled down two of the pretty umbrellas, then had run over some ducks as he sped out of the small car park.  They were not actually wanting me, they wanted to know where Ted might have gone and who he was.  Obviously, a man with quite a temper!

    I explained our plight and our travelling.  I told him how we are not getting on and I just want to go home to England.  Then told him the address of the dingy hotel where he might find the hire car and Ted.

    My time travelling was not the story I was expecting to be retelling, but it did have a happy ending.  The police found Ted and charged him for the restaurant bill and fined him for killing the ducks and wrecking two umbrellas.  They found my bags and helped book me on a plane back to England. Juan then drove me to the airport.  I was relieved to say goodbye, despite leaving Juan, who had been my saviour in this story and I have to admit was rather nice to look at.    Thankfully Ted was not with me, and I would be glad to never see him again.

    Travelling and Juan

    The world of Social media it is now small! Travelling is good but there is so much that can be seen without the risk of ending up in a foreign police station.  As I turned on Facebook, I could see I had a new friend request.  Wondering who it was, I thought of the many wierdoes who had tried to add me and I’d sent straight to the bin.  Opening it my heart jumped, it was Juan, looking as handsome and friendly as ever.  Was this strange? Should I add him?  Thinking what the heck, I clicked accept.

    As messenger popped up, I could see his messages.  He was apologising for messaging me but was coming to London soon and wanted to know If I would like to meet.  I sat not knowing what to say, I did really like him, but was this real? or some random wanting a place to stay? Thinking, who knows where this could lead, I messaged back, Okay.

    There are restaurants with fancy umbrellas in the UK, but as long as there are no ducks; and no insistence on reading every piece of tourist information, maybe meeting Juan could be fun.

     

    Written for Write the story prompt on Writers Unite

    For more see – Is there intelligent life somewhere else in the universe? – written for Writers Unite

  • reading books
    Family,  pancreatic cancer,  writing

    Reading and new plans for 2022

    A difficult year

     

    2021 is over, 2022 has now begun.   New resolutions, new hopes and new reading plans.  Do you set resolutions? I personally do not.  It would be nice to believe that 2022 will be a happier year.  Surely it will be better then last.  Worries over the rising energy price in the UK. Then calls for facemasks in secondary schools, rumours about primary schools. Talk now of not needing a PCR test following a positive LFT test.  Different rules between England, Scotland and Wales. Does the news get any better? I never thought I would want to be injected, I’m scared of needles but I don’t want Covid.

    Sat here now I’m sniffing, coughing and have a headache but LFT is negative.  The last time a lot of us did tests like these we were willing for 2 pink lines.  Weeing on a stick is a better experience then regularly putting a stick to the back of your throat and up your nostrils, I hate it. The latest is for daily LFT tests, I guess we all do what we can, but I don’t like the idea.

    My blogs

    2021 was a very quiet year for both my blogs, following losing dad, fundraising and walking took over.   My dad loved walking so when walking I feel closer to him.  I have wondered if he is with me, especially last year when I did 32 miles and got lost. Walking through the woods at night using my phone as a torch was a scary experience.

    2021 was thirty stories in thirty days a challenge for a different story every night.  Trying to think of a new story and writing it, I’ve always been a pantser, I had no time to plan them.

    So, 2022, what now?

    I’m hoping for a better blog year.  I still want to fundraise so have tried to think of something different this year.  Last year I walked over 1000 miles, this year I would like to do that again, but needed a new challenge.

    Reading

    I’ve been planning on reading the Lee Child, Jack Reacher books for a while, I found one in my Goodreads account tonight from 2018 unread.  Realising that a Marathon is 26.2 miles and there are now 26 books in the series I thought of doing a reading Marathon for Pancreatic Cancer UK.  I am also reading to the children every night and I have also found a book of Jack Reacher short stories. So, my Marathon will be over 26 books. I had set a goal of the end of May, I am now on book six, since 13th December 2021, so hoping this is realistic.

    The children are still walking, though as they get older, I am having more regular arguments about computer games.  Getting out in the countryside is always good, they both relax, and we usually have a good time.  Cries of I’m tired and my legs hurt are eased with biscuits, chocolate and squash / water.  Time outside is always good, its just motivating ourselves to get out.

    My novel

    I last looked at my novel in 2020. After losing dad I lost a lot of faith in my writing.  The distractions of life, fundraising and Netflix took over.   I know I need to go back over it, only I can bring my story to life, but it is a daunting prospect.  It sits at about 70 000 words and needs rewriting.   I set up Marianwood.com to focus on my writing, I know I need to get back to it.  My Jack Reacher Marathon is not going to help that though.

    Life is busy and there is so much that I would love to achieve.  However, my priorities as always are to my family.  The children are growing up and my ten-year-old changes school this year.  New prospects, new plans and new challenges.

    December 2022

    I would love at Christmas to be able to say that I’ve completed my novel.  To have read the forty five books that I’ve said I would read on Good Reads.  In recent years I’ve struggled to read twenty.   To have walked over 1000 miles again, plus work and life etc, yes, I’m possibly expecting too much.

    So, what are your plans for 2022? Are you planning to be busy? or hoping for a quiet one?

     

    My new fundraising page

    Links to Pancreatic Cancer UK – A story a day in November

    Please note last years fundraising page on the November stories, will still accept donations

    A story a day for Pancreatic Cancer UK

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