Tuesday Tiny Tale – Doppelganger

I was idly scrolling through Facebook on my phone when I was surprised to see a picture of myself. I never post pictures of myself on holiday, well I never go on holiday, nor do I socialise enough to appear in other people’s photos. I peered closer. It was definitely me, in that fleece I got from Mountain Warehouse, but I had never been to the Royal Albert Hall. There I was standing outside the famous round building in summer sunshine. Had I been photoshopped in?

I dashed upstairs and put my desk top computer on, I needed to look at this properly, but knowing Facebook that post could disappear any second. Even as I climbed the stairs my phone pinged with a WhatsAp message.

Hi Claire, have a good time, which Prom are you going to?

I wasn’t the only person to have seen my picture, the picture that could not be me. I would love to have got down to London and gone to The Proms, but my budget did not stretch to a city break.

I don’t take much interest in Facebook, occasionally I put a link to my blog or my website when I have a new book published. My followers are a select bunch, but it’s surprising how many readers love my series about Bunny Bunting, a private detective who solves crimes in the cut throat world of pedigree rabbit shows.

There I was again looking up at the Prince Albert Memorial, carrying my jade fleece. I had on my blue polo shirt from Edinburgh Woollen Mill.  Did I have a long lost twin? Now I was sitting and looking properly I read what the post said.

Have you seen Claire? Her family are desperately worried. She went on a day trip to London with work friends, but became separated. Claire is believed to be vulnerable and does not know her way around London.

Thanks a lot, not only has someone stolen my identity, now they are calling me vulnerable?

Claire Smith is forty three years old, five foot four inches and well built.

That is me exactly, though what is well built supposed to mean? At least she has not got the same surname.

We know it’s a long shot, but if you are a Londoner, especially a music lover, perhaps you may have seen Claire at Thursday evening’s prom. She is believed to have struggled with depression lately after the end of a relationship.

That is certainly not me, unless Claire Smith has just lost her pet rabbit. Give me a Flemish Giant any day over a man… there were comments already…

Is this Claire from Carlisle, I follow her on Facebook.

Oh no, that is me, I live in Carlisle, so wonder where this other Claire comes from? Please answer and tell us Claire Smith comes from Saint Ives…shall I add a comment…

No, I am Claire Lapin from Carlisle.

Hang on, that post has disappeared.

A hospital room, now what has happened? That looks just like the picture my brother took of me after I had my tonsils out.

Claire Darling we all love you and beg you to get in touch, you are due for dialysis tomorrow at Glasgow Royal Infirmary, but if you cannot get back here in time, please call at any hospital Casualty Department.

Oh dear it gets worse and worse…

My phone rang, my brother.

‘Sis, turn on the evening news, it’s you, are you in London, lost?

‘No Sam, of course I am not, nor am I on Facebook, someone has stolen my identity.’

He laughed You have got a Doppleganger!’

‘A what?’

‘Your exact double, doesn’t even have to be a relative, just someone who looks exactly like you, everyone is supposed to have a Doppleganger somewhere in the world. But I know how you can find out if she is a relative, they are calling for kidney donors, searching for a good match before its’s too late, someone to give her hope…’

‘How can you call for dead people?’

‘No, live donors, you have two kidneys. I’ve taken the number, I’ll text it over to you.’

‘But Sam, I don’t like hospitals…’

I called the number, it was one way to find out who this Claire was. The kidney business caught people’s interest and a chap spotted her at sunset on Waterloo Bridge, staring into the Thames. He called out to her, rather prematurely ‘Hey, they found you a kidney.’

Claire Smith had a kidney transplant thanks to me. No it wasn’t my kidney. We are not related at all, but I somehow found myself in the swapping chain. My kidney went to an anonymous patient whose relative was a good match for Claire. I wasn’t in the news as I had not actually given her my kidney and I certainly did not post pictures of myself in hospital on Facebook.

Silly Saturday – Strange Shopping

Tuesday Tale – Silver Spoon

Friday Fun – Beach Hut Life

Pandemonium

Five years ago there was a dark cloud hanging over us.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0FNC149CV

Sunday Stroll – Sobo Grove

Tuesday Tale 925 – Alarm

Oh Damn, isn’t it always the way, you call in to do a quick job and it turns out the customer is dead. Very thoughtful of her to leave the front door ajar. If it had been locked I could just have rung the doorbell and told the boss nobody was in.

Yes I am certain she is dead, face a strange colour. No I haven’t called anybody yet, would just be my luck to get the blame and I have twenty more homes to visit, twenty more carbon monoxide detectors to fit in the boss’s rental properties. If I don’t get them all done that’s a morning’s pay gone. Property inspection panic going on, so if I fit the alarm and quietly slip away, it will look like she died after my visit.

I suppose gloves would have been handy in case they call in forensics, but she doesn’t look murdered, just dead.

I thought I heard a creak upstairs, but can’t be anyone else here, surely they would have noticed a body in the hall? Maybe a cat, no the landlord doesn’t allow pets, except rats. What a place, she’s better off dead than living here I reckon. All his tenants would never believe their landlord is an MP, bet he would not let his mother live in a place like this, though I have seen worse, some of his other properties.

Today’s lark all started with a scare in the news, some do-gooding new MP stands up in The House and rattles on about the plight of her constituents in substandard housing. Family taken to hospital with carbon monoxide poisoning, calling for all landlords to have carbon monoxide detectors fitted in their properties. Anyway, the boss is worried his tenants might be alerted. They don’t know he is an MP of course, not any idea who he is. Big Dave deals with all complaints and they don’t usually complain again.

Oh damn, that’s the plaster crumbling, how am I supposed to get this bloody thing fixed on the wall?

Door bell? Hell, I’ve got to get out of here fast. Lucky the back door’s unlocked, bad luck I’m stuck in this four foot back yard. Stuck in this yard with an angry dog. Whoever is in the house is going to investigate furious barking. Only way out is over the fence, thank God everything in this property is broken. OW! Dog at my ankle, I’m going over. Can’t get my footing, dog attached to my ankle, we’re rolling down a hill, no a railway embankment and a train coming, how much worse is my morning going to get?

…and finally in tonight’s news a body has been found in a rental property belonging to an MP.   Police were called this morning by a shocked neighbour to a terraced property in West London. Police say there were no suspicious circumstances, but the death came to the attention of the media when it was revealed the dead pensioner was a constituent of the MP, who only two days ago stood up in The Commons to draw attention to the unsafe conditions many of her constituents live under. Our reporter spoke this evening to MP Marlina Pontefract outside the shabby row of terraced houses where the tragedy occurred.

‘Is it true that these properties actually belong to a fellow MP?’

‘I can’t comment on that as I don’t have the facts, but whoever is responsible for these properties has a lot of questions to answer.’

You have to laugh don’t you. I would love to see my boss, or rather ex boss, answering some awkward questions. Come on Marlina, I bet you do know who he is. Well I never got any more work done this morning, that’s why I got the sack. Ended up in casualty, lucky to get away with a broken ankle and a tetanus shot. The dog wasn’t so lucky, straight under the train. It was slowing down for the station, jammed the brakes on. You should have seen the driver’s face when I looked up from the track. All those rescue teams just for me. I told them I was trying to rescue my run away dog.

So here I am, foot up… travel news, wonder if…

There were delays at Paddington Station for commuters after an incident with a local train. A railway spokesman reminded dog owners that it was never safe to try and rescue your dog from a railway line.

‘The sad fact is, it is easier to clean up a dog from the line than a human.’

So that was my moment of fame, just as well they didn’t bother to mention me as I was not dead. Let’s catch up with the late night news.

…and we’re just hearing the MP Anthony Saint has been named as the MP who owns substandard rental properties where a woman was found dead this morning. We were unable to contact him for comment.

Meanwhile, police have confirmed that the unnamed woman died of carbon monoxide poisoning and they will now await the coroner’s full report...

There’s an irony, but at least they can’t accuse me of murder.

 …but would still like to speak to anyone who has visited the deceased or been in that vicinity recently. It is believed the woman lived alone at that address and had been dead for at least forty eight hours.

Can’t link me to her death, but it’s not going to look good if anyone finds out I was there this morning, oh damn…

Silly Sunday Shorts

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Split_Fiction

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Pandemonica-Janet-Gogerty-ebook/dp/B0FJJBD5PK/