Tuesday Tiny Tale -The Crystal Ball

How had I been persuaded to be the fortune teller at the annual fair? My only qualification was that I liked browsing in charity shops so my best friend, who was on the fair committee, figured I would be able to find clothes and jewellery to fit the role.

For half an hour not a soul as much as peeped into my tent. I gazed into the crystal ball, but it could not tell me if I would have any customers, probably because it was just a glass sphere that caught the occasional ray of sunshine through the tent opening. Most of the time the sun was behind a cloud. Perhaps nobody had been enticed to come to the festival.

Then I heard giggling, my heart sank and I was transported back to our school days. Jane and I spent most of our time giggling at things no one else would find funny. Adults on the bus or in the shops would glare at us and we would dissolve into further uncontrollable laughter. Happy days, but now I did not want to be the subject of amusement.

‘Ask her if Troy will ask you out.’

‘You ask her who you’re going to marry.’

‘Ask her if you will pass your GCSEs.’

‘…and exactly what grades we’ll get.’

The first girl to enter, or rather be shoved in by the other two, was underdressed in the skimpiest of clothes and I found myself tutting, was I turning into my mother?

‘What… do you have to pay, have you got a card reader?’

This was not going according to plan, fortune telling was obviously much easier in the good old days.

She rushed out of the tent and jabbered excitedly to her friends.

‘It works, I’m going to get good GCSE results.’

The next girl’s expression was hard to read under the layers of make up. She offered me a fivepence piece, quite savvy then. I accepted it, after all I was only doing this for fun. I put my hands round the globe and closed my eyes.

‘When, when?’

I was beginning to enjoy my role as a dispenser of wisdom. The third girl was different, the quiet one no doubt. She looked as if she was likely to get excellent results for her exams, but never be asked out by the likes of Troy.  I warmed to her, was that me when I was her age? She proffered a fifty pence piece and I pretended to gaze intently into the crystal ball.

To my astonishment I could see pictures. My stomach contracted, did I really have powers? A girl who looked ill, poor, on a dark street, sleeping on the street, how did this happen? Was it her home life, or getting in with the wrong crowd, the wrong man. I glanced away and saw a worried expression on her face. I smiled reassuringly and forced myself to peer again. Now I saw a rainbow, was it just the sun beam filtering through the glass … the picture changed to a smart confident woman on a stage, at a lectern. Before I could see who she was addressing, the picture faded and in front of me was the ordinary glass ball again.

‘Oh, that’s rather deep, you must be real, not just dressing up for fun.’

Tuesday Tale – Mistake

The day got off to a bad start when I put the remote control in my bag instead of my phone.

As John was away on his business trip to Taiwan I was taking the car to work. Oliver rushed out the door saying ‘Bye Mum, don’t forget we’re all going round Roache’s tonight and I’m staying over ready for the match tomorrow.’

I had forgotten and had no idea who Roach was or where he lived. Since we moved to the new house Oliver spent even less time at home and frequently reminded us he had not wanted to move. But as John said, Oliver would be off to uni. next year and we couldn’t miss the opportunity to move to a place that was perfect for us, with room for John to work from home. The new estate was a good few stations further out from our old house and the town, but Oliver could get to school and me to work on the train.

I looked forward to a peaceful Friday evening. I could get a big shop on the way home as I had the car, a bottle of wine perhaps and Piza delivered.

I didn’t notice my mistake till I was in the office and went to check if John had left a message. The others thought it hilarious when I brandished the remote control.

‘Well it’s either the menopause or the stress of moving that’s done my brain in.’ I joined in their laughter.

I was always complaining Oliver never put his phone down for five minutes, so I was sure I could cope without my phone for one day.

At lunchtime I started to realise the implications of my mistake. How would I pay for lunch in the canteen? In my phone case was my bank card, but half the time I didn’t use that, I paid for things with my phone. ‘No one carries a purse around these days Mother’ Oliver had said frequently. Annie offered to pay. If I had known what lay ahead I would have had a good hot meal instead of a sandwich. Shopping was off my agenda, but I didn’t need anything urgently and why waste my precious evening going round the busy supermarket.

I drove home in a good mood, no waiting on a chilly platform for a train that might not come because of strikes or yet another landslide with all this rain we had been having. The sat nav came in handy because now it was dark I was not so sure I knew the way to our new house. Finally I was on the dark road by the common, home was not far and I would be glad to spot the street lights of the estate. But what I spotted were blue flashing lights, red flashing lights, yellow lights… what was going on? A yellow jacket flagged me down and I noticed barriers across the road.  I was not sure who or what the yellow jacket was. A woman’s voice spoke.

‘What do you mean, it’s so quiet here. Which way shall I go, I have to get home.’

‘Oakdene Avenue.’

‘What sort of incident?’

‘But what am I supposed to do, my husband’s in Taiwan.’

‘No, we just moved in, I don’t know anybody.’

‘I left my phone at home…’

Before I could say any more another car pulled up behind me and she left to give them the bad news.

On the pavement I saw a poor old lady standing alone. More to comfort myself than her I got out and went over.

‘I just got off the bus, oh dear, do you know what’s going on?’

‘No idea, we just moved into Oakdene Avenue and my husband’s in Taiwan and my son’s gone round to Roache’s house and I left my phone at home…’

‘Never mind, you can borrow my phone and call your son, or a friend.’

That’s when I realised I knew no one’s numbers, family or friends. Numbers stored in my phone, just tap the name you wanted to call…

‘I suppose you don’t remember the numbers, modern technology’ she chuckled ‘never mind dear, why don’t I call our local taxi company for you, they are very good.’

Where would I go, even if I had any means to pay the driver I had no idea where Roach lived. I heard a car draw up.

‘Oh here’s my lift, lucky I had my phone, I called my brother. My sister-in-law will have a good hot dinner waiting.’

And there she was gone. More emergency vehicles kept arriving, but I couldn’t see my police officer. I got back in the car to warm up and scrabbled around in the glove box for the car park purse. There should be enough change to buy a cup of coffee, perhaps even some chips in the café at that Tesco superstore a few miles back up the road. I could sit in the warm, restore my equilibrium then drive back to see if it was all clear. There should be plenty of change, we always paid for car parks with our phone these days…  I couldn’t find the purse. I recalled John tidying up the car ‘Don’t know why we still keep this old purse in here.’

Plan, plan, think of a plan. The logical thing would be to drive back to where we used to live, though it was a good distance and not an easy drive in the dark. Who would I call on? Cassandra and Dan were in Australia. Other friends, a bit embarrassing as I had failed to send any Christmas cards in the madness of moving and hadn’t even sent any text messages. Nobody wants to be disturbed on a dark winter’s night when they are all cosy at home. What on earth would I say, the whole situation sounded ridiculous. On this dark cold lonely night I wondered how many real friends I had back in the old neighbourhood. Probably only Cassandra. There was only one way to find out who was in and who might offer a welcome.

Friday Flash Fiction 660 – Temple

Jamie tried to saunter into the house nonchalantly; his mother was in the kitchen, busy cooking, stirring something.

‘Hi Mum.’

He opened the fridge and grabbed a can of coke and a hunk of cheese, his face hidden by the door as his mother turned away from the saucepan.

’Good day at school?’ his mother smiled.

Jamie used to hate those words, but now it was a novelty after the various lockdowns and home schooling; they were both glad when schools opened again.

His mother’s smile soon faded when he closed the fridge door.

‘Don’t eat too much, dinner’s nearly… Jamie, your face, what have you done?’

‘Chill Mother, everyone’s having it done…’

‘I don’t care about everyone else, what on earth will your father say?’

‘The swelling will go down in a couple of days… have we got any ibroo… paracetamol?’

‘Oh Jamie, it looks so painful.’

‘They gave us a local anaesthetic… I think it’s wearing off now.’

‘But why, why did you do it, I thought we discussed all this, you know it’s irreversible and how did you get it done without our consent?’

‘Malc knew a place.’

‘I might have guessed he would be involved; you didn’t have to go along with it, you know your father was totally against it.’

‘Like he’s an expert.’

‘He is a doctor.’

A gynaecologist, he doesn’t do heads… I’m going up to my room to see if it’s worked.’

‘Perhaps when you look in the mirror you will realise just what you have done…’

In his bedroom Jamie did not bother to look in the mirror but headed straight for the computer. He had soon logged in and found what he was looking for. He let out a whoop of excitement followed by a cry of shock as he realised moving his head was painful. But there it was, his history homework essay already saved as a word document. Jamie’s thoughts had been transmitted from the implant in his temple; his essay ‘written’ as he walked home with Mad Malc after their visit to Malc’s uncle’s clinic.

He peered closer, rubbing his eyes. How did that thought get into his essay. They had been told they would need to concentrate to get the best results. Oh well, his essay would sound quite intelligent if he deleted the banter with Malc and those other thoughts.

Jamie was tired the next morning, what with the grilling by his parents and them insisting on Facetiming with Aunty Surita, the brain surgeon. When he did get to bed he could only lie on one side. There was a bit of blood on the pillow, but when he looked in the mirror the bruising seemed to be the biggest problem. But hey, when he and Malc walked into school everyone was going to be so impressed.

Malc wasn’t at the school gates. Jamie’s phone buzzed, there was a message from Malc.’ Man my head really hurts, I’m staying in bed and how come your essay and everything else inside your idiotic brain has popped up on my phone?’

Jamie put his phone away, another one of Malc’s jokes no doubt.

If he wanted attention he was certainly getting it, even before he got to the hand gel station. His hand wandered to his face and he pulled his mask up higher, but the other kids were more interested in their phones than his face.

As he walked down the corridor everyone was calling out remarks.

 ‘Jamie Brainbox, we can read your mind.’

The girls were giggling and his form teacher was heading his way, calling out

‘Social distancing everybody… what IS going on? Distance, mask on…’

Alia came and stood loyally in front of Jamie, but her expression as she looked at his face told him he had not succeeded in impressing her.

‘God Jamie, what have you done, you look awful and your thoughts are being sent to everyone you know…’

Christmas Real Time Tales – part two – Tier Four

Doris was agog with curiosity. Who were the two big chaps that turned up next door on Christmas morning, just when Doris happened to be looking out of her front window… and that big shaggy dog? Cassie had said a friend from work was coming for Christmas Dinner and might bring his teenage son… Her young neighbour had no need to ring or knock to check Doris was okay as she knew her cousin was staying, but she could ring and thank Cassie for the chocolates…

‘Hello Cassie, did you have a nice Christmas? Thanks so much for the chocolates, Cousin Ruth’s favourites… yes I’m so glad she came, we have had a laugh, just like when she used to come and stay in the holidays when we were children… That’s what my nephew said, makes sense; Ruth’s little flat was perfect till we went into lockdown, she was always out and about, but this year it’s been like a prison… Yes she likes the back bedroom, looking out onto the garden and hearing the blackbirds… No we’re fine thanks, Ruth’s more tech savvy than me and my nephew’s doing our on line shopping … well I do wonder what on earth he thinks we like to eat, but now we’re in Tier 4 it’s so scary and he’s forbidden us to go to the shops.

Yes we did, later in the day when they were awake in Los Angeles. Ruth’s got an eye pad or whatever you call those things you open up, I daren’t touch the thing, but she got us on Facetime, so amazing, mind you it is fifty years since they landed on the moon and we thought we would be living on the moon by now. Thank goodness we’re not, otherwise my son would probably be there instead of the USA… but the children have grown, even since I saw them in the summer.

So what did you have for your dinner… pork…  oh, so he wasn’t a little lad then… did you have enough food, a vegetarian, oh dear, no of course that’s quite common these days, but a bit of a problem if you’re having roast pork. He did like the geckos then…  but the geckos didn’t like them… not surprised they were nervous having two big blokes and a dog clumping round your little front room and bumping into the glass; ‘vibrating vivarium’ ahh, making fun of you poor little reptiles…

Where do they live … Scotland, oh goodness, it’s a wonder Nicola Sturgeon let him out and she probably won’t let him back in… you mean really ran away, what about his mother? …no I suppose you couldn’t really pry, but what an interesting life you lead. What are you doing today?… A bicycle ride, are you allowed, I get so muddled up when we keep changing Tiers, not that Ruth and I are likely to go out on our bikes, perhaps I should get one of those electric ones. You can go out for exercise and meet only one person, I suppose your ‘friend’ will be busy with his son…

Photo by Miri on Pexels.com

Friday Flash Fiction 840 – Grounded

‘You’re grounded.’
‘Wha…at, nobody gets grounded these days.’
Dean patted his pocket, he was quite happy to retreat to his bedroom away from the ageing love birds. They hadn’t got Sky yet, but with his new smart phone (bribery present from his mother) and the TV, he shouldn’t be too bored.
‘You are grounded till school starts tomorrow’ said Rob.
‘Suits me, there’s nothing to do around here anyway, nowhere to go in this godforsaken place, I’m happy to stay in my room.’
‘You won’t be in your room; grounded means on the ground, you can come out and work with me.’
‘Muu…m?’
‘I’ve got unpacking to do and dinner to get, I’ll make you both something really nice, what do you fancy?’
‘A takeway.’
‘I’ll do chicken the way you like it; now go out and get some fresh air, you’ll enjoy helping Rob.’

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Dean slouched out behind Rob and sneered at the vehicle parked in the driveway. ‘Green Man with Green Van’ was emblazoned on its side. He took the phone out of his pocket and started tapping in.
‘…and you can leave that at home, we’ve got work to do.’
‘Nobody leaves their phone at home. It’s my only contact with the outside world.’
‘The outside world can do without you for a few hours.’
‘Yeah, but I can’t do without the outside world, I didn’t want to come and live here.’
Rob laughed as he pulled out of the driveway. ‘I think you may have mentioned that already and I didn’t want you living with me, but neither of us has any choice. Try thinking of your mother for a change, she’s very happy to get away from the other place.’
‘She married you just so she could live in Woodycopse? I don’t think.’
‘You’ll be glad she married me one day. Stick it out here for a couple of years then you can go out into the world without worrying about your mother, she’ll have me to look after her.’
‘She’s quite capable of looking after herself.’
‘I know, but she deserves more than that. I don’t expect you to understand, just don’t spoil all this for her.’

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‘Oh hello Kate, yes we’re back, had a wonderful time, a week of sheer bliss, yes and that as well, no complaints in that department. Anyway, it’s true what they say about Venice.
Dean? Yes, he’s fine, gone out with Rob, they really get on well, I wouldn’t be surprised if Rob doesn’t take him on in the business in a few years time. I think he would have liked a son of his own… at my age? Yes of course it’s biologically possible, but it wouldn’t be fair on Dean, he’s still my baby… he starts at the new school tomorrow, once he meets some kids his own age… No I’m looking forward to my new life, imagine me living in Woodycopse, bit of a change from Fenbridge… Yes, once we’ve settled in you must come down and stay. Right, I’d better get on with dinner, Dean especially requested his favourite chicken dish, a week of his granny’s cooking, he’s probably starving.’

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The short drive to the house on the edge of the village was spent in silence, except for exaggerated sighs from Dean. Without ceremony Rob parked the van, jumped out, opened the back doors, beckoned to Dean and handed him a cluster of wooden handles with strange metallic attachments.
‘What the hell am I supposed to do with these?’
‘You’ll soon find out, it’s all clearing today, so you can’t do much harm.’
‘What a jungle.’
‘In a few weeks you won’t recognise it, do you want to see the plans?’
‘Nope.’
‘Suit yourself.’

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Dean quite enjoyed the hacking and chopping, though he was careful not to show it, but when he felt blisters coming up on his palms any enthusiasm quickly evaporated.
‘Can we stop now?’
‘No, we need to break the back of the work today, so it will be easier when we come after school tomorrow.’
‘Wha…at, I’m not your slave and you can’t make me do it, you’re not my Dad.’
‘I wondered how long before you came out with that cliché. You’re not my son thank goodness, just a reminder of why I never wanted children.’
‘At least you won’t want to adopt me, but why didn’t you want kids?’
‘I’m too selfish or didn’t want to inflict another teenager like me on the world?’
‘What were you like?’
‘Let’s just say my mother strongly suggested I join the army. By the time I realised that was a mistake, it was too late.’
‘Gran and Mum say Dad loved the army, never wanted to do anything else.’
‘I know, he was a great bloke and I’ve never pretended to your mother that I could replace him. Marrying me is better for your mother than being alone and that is all I can expect. And the least we can do for her is pretend we get along, perhaps one day we will…’

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