Laurie

The girls pushed and shoved their way through the narrow doorway.  One grabbed another by the neck of her Basque and yanked her backwards then the usual scuffle occurred.  It was the same every night when the chorus line got ready to go on stage.  Each one wanting to upstage the other, hoping tonight they would be discovered.  Laurie wiped the powder puff over the rouge and applied a little to her cheeks. The makeup felt greasy against her creamy skin.

“Come on Dearie, get your arse off that stool. We’re on in five minutes,” Molly said, checking her feather hat tilted to the left and then pushing up her breasts. “Blimey Laurie, that’s not enough slap. You will look like a ghost under the lights.” She snatched the puff from Laurie’s grasp and rubbed the smooth side against the crimson powder then brushed it across the younger girl’s face. “There, that’s better.”

Laurie’s nose wrinkled as the smell of stale sweat wafted in her direction.  “Phew, Molly you don’t arf pong. When was the last time you washed?”

“I’m clean I am you cheeky mare. Me and the others shared a bath five days ago.” Molly sniffed her armpits.

With a saucy grin Laurie, laced up her calf length boots and ducked just as Molly took a swipe at her.

“On stage in two minutes!” The manager pushed past the girls lining up in the wings as the comedian came to the end of his turn.

“Do you think your gentleman will be here again tonight, Dearie?” Molly grabbed Laurie’s hand and pulled her to the front of the line.

“He’s not my gentleman. I’ve never even spoken to him,” Laurie said, her cheeks burning. I do hope he does come.

“Well it ain’t us that gets gin and grapes.  He’s a proper toff he is and no mistake.”

“Go on with ya,” Laurie gently pushed Molly as the comedian left the stage to a mixture of boo’s and get off’s.

“Bleedin’ mean lot tonight girls. Hope you got your iron drawers on.” The funny man slapped Molly’s bum on his way past.

“Oi! Keep your bloody hands to yourself,” Molly yelled after him whilst rubbing her behind.

Seven girls cart wheeled onto the stage – vivid petticoats giving a kaleidoscope effect. Five more followed including Molly. The musicians struck up the intro as Laurie swivelled onto the stage.  She swirled her skirts in front of her while the others somersaulted, linked arms, high kicked and flashed frilly bloomers.  “Ta-ra-ra- Bum-di-ay… “ echoed from her mouth, not the best of voices, but infectious enough to win the audience over.  The man in the front seat moved forward watching every contour of her body as she swayed her hips deliberately from side to side. When she hitched her skirts to reveal black stocking tops the audience whooped and whistled.

All the girls except Laurie left the stage to rapturous applause.  The music changed and Laurie began to sing, Daddy wouldn’t buy me a bow wow.  With suggestive gestures and a seductive smile Laurie sashayed across the floor and her eyes locked on the man in the front row. The audience clapped in time to the tempo and most joined in with the song.  A disappointed look crossed her face as the man stood up and exited through the side door. Her neat eyebrows rose as she wondered what she had done to make him leave.

“Get on with it!” The stage manager yelled from behind the velvet curtains.

“…I’d rather have a bow wow  wow.” Laurie’s voice trailed off unnoticed by the spectators as the dancing girls exploded, like Catherine wheels, onto the stage to the sound of the can-can.

Molly grabbed her by the hands and swung her round “You got to get off the stage you silly cow.”

Her concentration returned and Laurie whipped up her petticoats and swayed them from left to right.  When the chorus line flaunted frilly rear ends Laurie, side stepped into the wings waving her hand.

“What’s your bleedin’ game?” The stage manager scowled at her.

“I’m sorry Ducky. I forgot my lines. No harm done.”

“You will be sorry if it happens again.”

Laurie ran towards the dressing room. She wasn’t sure why she felt so upset, but she wanted to get away.

“Hey! You got a message from a gent.” The doorman went to hand her a slip of paper.

“Erm, what does it say?”

“Gawd. One day one of you girls will learn to read.” He cleared his throat.  “A carriage will be at the stage door at ten if you would care to join me for supper.”

Laurie clasped the hair at the back of her neck as Molly pushed the hairpin into the top-knot.“Argh! That ruddy hurt.”

“You want to look your best, Dearie,” Molly said, tucking the last disobedient tendril behind her ear. “You’re a looker and no mistake.”

A hand reached in front of Laurie and placed a small bottle of Lily of the Valley on the dresser. Her mouth dropped as she gazed at the cologne then into the hard features of Annie Ryder.

“I’m not going soft so don’t gawp at me like that – and don’t use too much.” Annie said.

Molly grabbed the bottle before Annie changed her mind then sprayed the fragrance behind Laurie’s ears and on her wrists. She yanked up her skirts and gave a quick squish on her thighs.

“Don’t. He’s not going to be down there, that’s for sure. Hmn!” Laurie smoothed the creases from her frock.

“You got to get your hand off your halfpenny sometime, Dearie.” Molly giggled as she  sprayed the cologne on her own neck, before Annie snatched the perfume from her hand.

“It was for her. The sooner she gets a man the quicker I get my bloody job back.”

Laurie flashed a glare at Annie. So that’s her game. Well she’ll have a long wait. The clock began to chime. Flustered, Laurie grabbed her drawstring bag and gave Molly a quick hug. Wings fluttered in her tummy and she hesitated.

“Come on, Dearie. Don’t be getting the ab-dabs or you might as well go back to the village.” Molly herded her through the doorway. “Talk proper, don’t be forward and mind your bloody language.” She slapped her playfully on the bum. “Shoo.”

An icy wind caught the stage door as Laurie stepped out into the night. Goose pimples prickled like hives in the cold mist. The coachman appeared headless as fog swirled around the top of his body.

Phwatt!

“Crikey!” Laurie jumped back as the steps of the carriage unfolded. The throb, beating at her breast, calmed when she identified the sound.

Hands gripped the door handles and a black Top Hat appeared through the opening.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, My Dear,” he said, offering her a white gloved hand.

“Twas the noise Sir. I wasn’t expecting it.” Laurie allowed him to steer her onto the sumptuous leather bench. An ornate crest above the seat caught her attention and she realized the coach was private. She gazed at him in the dim light trying to make out his features.

“The Load of Hay, Smithers!” The man called to the driver as he seated himself beside her. When the horses moved off, Laurie slipped against him, her ample chest nudged at his elbow.

“Sorry Sir. It’s a bit bumpy or me bum’s too round,” she giggled, and grabbed the door handle to steady herself. “I ain’t never been in such a fine carriage.”

“Do call me Henry. We have an hour or so before we reach our destination, and I am curious to hear about your life on the stage.”

Laurie tingled at his deep velvet voice. People weren’t normally interested in her conversation. Warm dark eyes gazed at her and she wished the light was brighter. Words spilled out of her mouth as she told him of the choice between going on the stage or into service. Her hands gestured wildly as she imitated the girls – all thought of minding her p’s and q’s gone from her mind. When she waived her arms she almost backhanded him in the mouth, as she yapped out the story of the lecherous stage manager. He grasped her hand before it met with his lips and laughed at her persistent chatter and excitement.

“Oh my gawd! Sir, I didn’t mean…” Hot colour burned her cheeks.

He tipped her lightly on the nose, “Don’t distress yourself, My Dear. No need for apologies.”

The time zipped past and she was caught up in a mixture of rapture and apprehension as the horses pulled up at the Coaching Inn. A thick thatched roof, on the impressive building, framed warm stone walls and leaded glass windows. Blimey I hope they don’t use candles upstairs. Laurie swallowed hard as what looked like gentry entered the public house. She relaxed when a girl of her ilk strolled past, arm in arm with a gentleman.

“Smithers, see to the horses – then you may rest until I need you.” Henry took Laurie’s hand and linked it through his arm.

One man, seated with a crowd at the entrance, fed grapes to a girl young enough to be his granddaughter. He laughed as one dropped in her cleavage, and of course he needed to fish it out. Dirty old devil. Loud chatter and merriment emanated around the bar. A rosy cheeked woman took Henry’s hat and coat then led the couple to an empty booth. Two working girls made more than a fuss of a man at the compartment opposite. Laurie’s cheeks burned when she realised what one of them was doing with her hands under the table. Oh my gawd. She turned to face Henry and hoped he hadn’t seen the spectacle.

A wide smile danced across his lips and as he was about to speak the jovial woman came to take their order.

“What can I get you Sir?” The woman wiped her pudgy fingers on her apron. “We have a delightful beef pudding with onion gravy and fresh cottage bread. Seems like she could do with a bit of meat to her bones.”

Laurie scowled. Who does she think she is? Cheeky mare.

“The young Lady and I will partake of the beef pudding. A gin would be acceptable and a jug of the finest ale,” he said. “And kindly keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Oh Sir. I didn’t mean …I just…”

A wave of his hand cut her short and she waddled away flustered. The dark grey of his eyes flashed steel, before softening as he looked back at Laurie.

He really likes me.“That put her in her place and no mistake,Sir.”

“Please, Henry.”

“Henry,” she said, looking through dipped lashes.

Two serving girls placed the steaming dishes in front of them.

Laurie popped a forkful of pudding into her mouth. “Ow, ow.”  She took a large swig of gin as she tried to cool her burning tongue. “It’s so good.” Her cheeks bulged when she dipped the bread and chewed, with relish, on the savoury. The gravy dripped on her breast and she realised how unladylike she was behaving. Henry had not touched a crumb and she felt her neck getting hot.

“I’m so sorry I…” Laurie put down her fork, her tummy doing flip-flops, and wiped at the gravy with the sleeve of her dress.

Henry passed her a cotton napkin and smiled.“No apologies necessary. Good food should be savoured. Please, enjoy.”

While she finished her meal she explored his face. One white streak in a sea of wavy black hair framed his square jaw. A deep dip in his chin appeared to sharpen his features. When he arched a quizzical eyebrow she dropped her eyes. So he’s older than me. He’s a gent and he likes me.

Henry took a few sips of ale whilst studying her.

“Blimey Sir, that was ansome and no mistake.” Laurie pointed at his full plate.  “Weren’t you hungry?”

“I always feel a good repast should be followed by a bracing stroll, but sadly it’s very late,” he ignored her question.

“I wouldn’t mind a walk Sir. Don’t matter that it’s night.”

“Well if you are really sure. We could take a ride down to the river and maybe see some of the wildlife. Badgers love the darkness.”
Henry dropped some coins on the bar in front of the innkeeper.

“Now it’s her turn to pay,” the fleshy woman said to the serving girl, loud enough for Laurie to hear.
Laurie shot a frosty stare at her. I’d bust your nose you old witch if I wasn’t in company.

A half-moon lightened the sky and a few stars peeped through the mist. Smithers opened the door of the carriage before climbing up on the platform.

“Bluebell walk, Smithers.”Henry sat beside Laurie and placed a hand gingerly on her shoulder. “Your fragrance is delightful.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek, “and your skin is exquisite. So soft.”

Hot breath tickled her ear and her tummy began to quiver. Laurie, although brash and confident, had no experience with men and could only go by Molly’s tales. A tremor rippled through her body as he tilted her chin toward him. He gently grazed his lips against hers and pulled back in a heartbeat. Laurie shook as she searched his dark eyes for some sort of a cue. The glint in his eye reassured her as his powerful arm drew her in for a long lingering kiss. One of his hands brushed her breast and wandered further down to her leg. When his inquisitive tongue slipped into her mouth her body liquefied. With deft fingers he hiked her skirts and ran the tips across the bare skin at the top of lacy stockings. She shuddered as an intense tingle ignited from the depth of her core. Within an instant he pulled away as though the touch of her skin scorched him and turned to stare out of the window.

Laurie swallowed hard – the pleasure of a few seconds ago dissipated. “H…Have I done something wrong, Sir?”

“No. It was me,” he said, without looking at her.

She chose to ignore his cigar smoked tone and linked her fingers through his arm “Love a duck, Sir, you ain’t done nothing wrong. I enjoyed it.” The minute the words spilled from her mouth she regretted them. “Err I mean…”

An upheld palm silenced her and he shrugged off her hand. The steel, of earlier returned to his eyes. Hot tears threatened to tumble as she felt her chance with the dashing gent slip away. Henry. I can’t even say his name. Convinced her lack of social graces and bad language caused the change in his mood Laurie, nervously fiddled with her bag.

The coach pulled up beside the large oaks of Bluebell walk. Henry opened the door and jumped down to the crisp ground. “We will be about thirty minutes, Smithers.”

“Yes, Master.”

Laurie stepped out of the coach and caught her heel on the bottom step. “Oh my gawd,” she cried, as she flopped forward to her knees. “Argh!” With a second to spare her hands shot out and saved her from further injury. On all fours she gazed up at Henry who didn’t attempt to help her. In fact the darkness made him appear somewhat evil. Nah! It’s the night playing tricks. Without a word he turned and strode off into the woods. She scrambled to her feet feeling foolish, and when the coach took off at speed, frightened.
.
Large oaks lined the pathway, and as her eyes got used to the dark, Laurie scanned the area. The heavy footsteps ahead cracked twigs and began to fade. A loud rustle in the bushes made her jump. With a sharp intake of breath she ran after him – unable to understand what was going on.

“Sir. Please. Wait for me!” She hitched her skirts and dashed into the woods. “Sir. What have I done? Please, Sir. Wait.”

Henry pivoted so fast, his coat frilled like an ominous black peacock.“Whore!”

His roar brought her to a dead stop.

“W…what?” Her eyes glistened and she stepped backwards “I’m not. I’m a good g …”

Crack!

The vicious slap spun her to the ground onto a decaying pile of leaves. Laurie’s hand shot to her cheek.

“Wanton harlots. All of you.” His lip curled and steel replaced the soft grey eyes he’d flashed at dinner.

Sheer terror sparked Laurie to action and she rolled herself over the ground. She clambered to her feet and ran across the crisp earth. Arms grabbed her from behind and she wrestled and clawed at his face.

“Lemme go!”

“Hold your tongue!” The back of his fist slammed into the side of her face and she dropped to her knees. With his boot he shoved her forward and her face landed in a nettle patch.

Argh! On her belly, she tried to slither out of his reach, but he pinned her down with his knee. Laurie’s heart raced and her eyes swelled as the sensation of hot needles seared her face. Cold air kissed her skin as he hiked her skirts and ripped at her under garments.

“Noooooo!”

His hands clasped her neck and his fingers squeezed on her windpipe. Fear gripped her chest as she tried to pry his fingers from her throat. The pain dissolved as a bright white light faded to a kaleidoscope of colour, and her last breath left her body.

Laurie tilted her head to one side as she found herself amongst the Oaks. Through the trees she watched the man climb off what resembled a pile of clothes and adjust his fly. What’s going on.The sound of an approaching carriage caught her attention.

Thud!

A few moments later footfall on undergrowth grew louder as it neared. From behind a Hawthorn bush Smithers, emerged. In silence she glided towards the two men.

“Grab her legs.” Henry ordered.

“Yes, Sir.” Without question the coachman seized the naked limbs.

“Ere. What you doin’ to her?” Laurie yelled . “Get off her you bleeders!”

Dizziness spun her into muted swirls of greys, blacks and blues. When the sensation ceased a river stretched in front of her. Early morning mist drifted over the water. A small thatched cottage sat amidst a well tended garden on the far side of the bank. What appeared to be Molly’s best frock nestled between Bulrushes. Where am I?

Laurie breezed towards the far shore as a man ran over to the water’s edge. He dragged the body from the water – long blonde hair tangled with river weed clung to her neck. When he turned her and pulled the sticky mass from her face, Laurie gazed into her own image.

“No…”

A whirl of forest greens and earthy yellows transported her to the graveyard at Framingley Halt. A priest threw some dirt onto a coffin. With the same hand he made a sign of a cross over the open grave. Dressed in Sunday best – the man from the river and a woman placed a posy of berried evergreens at the foot of the hole.

“Lord, accept into your kingdom the soul of this unfortunate girl,” the priest said.

“Tis so sad, Charlie. Poor lamb, having no one to mourn for her.” The woman dabbed at her eyes. “Who would do such a beastly thing.”

“Mister. Who’s dead?” Laurie said.

“Hush M’dear. Don’t take on so,” said the man, taking her arm and leading her away from the grave. He shook his head “ The constabulary won’t looks too hard for a girl of such poor standing, M’dear. Tis a blessed shame.”

“Who’s dead?” Laurie flashed into the couples path and placed her hands on her hips. “Ruddy well tell me will ya?”

“Hmn. Hardly the way a lady should conduct herself, I must say,” a voice said. “There’s no use roaring wench, they can’t hear a word you say.”

In the instant Laurie spun to find the source of the speech the woman, passed straight through her.“Argh! Oh my gawd. Sh…she walked through me.”

A man, dressed in a brocade frock coat, perched on a gravestone. He appeared to be admiring his well-manicured hands. When he glided towards her he sniffed then cupped his elbow in one hand. He circled her as if he were inspecting a new horse.

“What you bleedin’ looking at?” Laurie said, as he looked her up and down.

“Well you are obviously female, but hardly from good stock.”

“Don’t look down your snout at me, Duckie. It’s not me what’s dressed strange.” She tossed her head indignantly.

“Hmn. Your enunciation is quite appalling.” He sniffed

“Ere. Don’t be filthy.”

“My dear girl. I can assure you. The thought of obscene suggestion with any woman would never enter my head. If I was being derogatory I do beg your pardon.” He bowed to her. The monocle in his right eye appeared to make his iris bulge and she backed away. “I am Nathanial Sullivan, but you may call me Sullivan.”

“Them are poncey words and no mistake.” Laurie glanced back at the grave.“I…I just want to know…”

“It’s your grave you silly girl. You’re dead.”

“I…I can’t be. I was with a gent not …not a while ago” The memory of what seemed like minutes ago came flooding back. Hands clasped around her neck squeezing her last breath. I am dead. “No I ain’t ready to be dead. I ain’t!”

“Come, come dear girl. I have so much to tell you.” Sullivan minced through the wall of the church.

Laurie wondered how he entered the thick grey stone.“Ere what about me?” Her eyes darted in all directions for an entrance.
An arm reached through the wall and grasped her by the neck.
“Waaaa.”

Over the hills

 

 

Piper Cove was a picturesque village, right down to the seventeenth century Pipe and Whistle Inn with its slate roof and black and white fascia. The narrow cobble streets attracted visitors worldwide. Bay-fronted curio shops, mouth-watering tearooms and locally-grown produce added to its old world charm.

Dale strolled down the cliff path that surrounded the Cove. He never tired of the walk through the lush green hills, always pausing at the top, absorbing the detail of the seemingly minute town below. Reaching the beach, he leapt onto the harbour wall and scanned the stranded boats dotted about the wet sand before heading for the pier.

“Hiya Sally,” Dale said, squeezing past the puppeteer. He nearly knocked her over with his guitar case as she pushed home the tent pegs for the stripy canvas theatre. “Whoa!” He grabbed her by the back of her top, and yanked her upright.

 

“Phew! Babe, you’re such a flippin’ klutz,” she said, a wide grin crossing her flustered face.

Laughing, Dale said “yeah I know Sal, but you still love me,” he wriggled the last two pegs into the sand for her before weighting down the apron with cobbles.

“Last day then. Gawd, I hope the crowds are feeling generous.” Sally plucked the grotesque Punch and Judy from the trunk, and kicked the lid shut.

“They will be Sal, I’m gettin’ good vibes,” he said, gliding backwards toward the entertainer’s area.

“Well make sure you don’t hog them all,” she said..

“I won’t, I got somethin’ special for the finale. You’ll stay on won’t ya?” A twinge of sadness gnawed at Dale’s heart. The loss of Sally’s husband in the lifeboat accident had left her with little enthusiasm to carry on with the puppet show.

“Of course I will babe, wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said. “I’ll even pass round the hat for you.”

The beach entertainment season had not been a good one, and money was in short supply. Dale knew that some of the tourists had come to Piper Cove to forget their troubles at home. Most were only increasing their problems by taking a holiday they couldn’t afford. Some stepped into a make- believe life for a while, wearing large smiles and behaving totally out of character, before heading back to their mundane lives. For Dale, happiness and music was the key to everything. He hoped his own happiness would be fulfilled today.

The young man was popular with the beach entertainers, his infectious enthusiasm and bubbly personality, softened the hardest of hearts. Even Mojo the clown, ever the pessimist, warmed to him and gave a cheery wave as he passed. No one knew where Dale came from, but nobody cared, they were happy to be in his company.

Placing the battered guitar case on the sand below the pier, Dale began whistling the melody of the pier’s carousel ride. He bobbed his head back and forth to the tune, floppy, dark blonde hair bouncing as he moved. Bending over to open the case, his bum cheeks wiggled involuntarily as his ears tuned in to the lyrics of ‘Sugar Pie Honey Bunch.’ He picked the guitar up by its neck and thrust it back and forth as if it was his dance partner, finger drumming the body in time with the beat.

“Ya soppy sod,” Belle said, hobbling toward him with her donkey, who matched her limp for limp.

“Hey Belle, you got to go with the beat,” he grinned, grabbing her hand and swinging her arm.

“You’re like sunshine in a bottle Dale, that’s for sure.” Smile crevices appeared on her dark leathery skin, but her tone of voice sent a different message to Dale.

 

“What’s wrong, Belle?” Tilting his head, he searched her weather worn face.

“Ahh! It’s Paddy, I can’t keep him no more Dale. He’s getting old like me see, and his arthritis is pretty much as bad as mine. The donkey sanctuary won’t take him and I’m just not making enough to keep him…” She swallowed down the lump that threatened to trigger the tears, floating at the corners of her eyes.

 

Throwing his arms around her, he hugged her close and planted a sloppy kiss on her tear stained cheek. He took a step back, keeping both hands on her shoulders, and looked the old lady in the eye. “Don’t cry Belle. I promise on my life, Paddy and you will be alright.”

She searched his hypnotic brown eyes. Dale could see she was looking for some spark of hope in them. ‘Go on ol’ girl, look deeper, you’ll find the peace you crave,’ he thought.

Belle saw the concern in his eyes and felt comforted. She tied Paddy to a mooring post, then, stroking his thick grey mane she sighed, “It’s his last day today, as well as yours Dale. I thought it fitting that he come to your last performance.” Belle shuffled away her shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Belle!” he yelled after her, “Make sure you’re here for the end of the show, promise me.” His voice echoed a plea, as if his life depended on it.

She turned to him, a sad smile crossing her face, “Course I’ll be here sunshine, I wouldn’t miss it.”

The beach shops opened their doors to the bustling crowds as jugglers tossed rainbow hoops on the beach wall. Punch and Judy were knocking seven bells out of each other in front of bored children. Most would rather be at home playing on a computer but, their parents enjoyed shouting out responses to the squabbling puppets. .

 

Deck chairs were filling up with people, some smiling, others not. A fair number were sprawled about, preferring to stay on the softness of the sand. The tide was far out and only the enthusiastic exercise fanatics braved the long walk for a swim. The aroma of fish and chips, mixed with candy floss, filled the air and a feint whiff of onions drifted in the direction of the decked stage alongside the pier.

Dale’s nostrils twitched as he caught the smell. His stomach rumbled in anticipation and he headed toward the hot dog vendor. Climbing over bodies lying on the sand, he misjudged his step, and tripped over the sour-faced lady wearing a red bikini top and shiny leggings that gave an appearance of cottage cheese wrapped in cling film.

“Oi! Clumsy bleeder,” she said, scowling at him, then laughed as Dale fell, landing face to face with a very surprised Boxer.

“Oueff! Sorry love,” Dale said.

 

The dog sniffed, then licked at Dale’s face. “Gerroff,’ gerroff’!” The friendly dog’s tongue tried to invade his nostrils, drool dripped on Dale’s chin. Clambering to his knees he took the dogs face in his hands ruffling his ears ‘You’re a beaut,’ he thought,’

I wish you were mine.’

He brushed the sand from his waistcoat and decided to skirt the rest of the bodies. he sauntered toward the hot dog stand, the aroma of burgers exciting his taste buds. “Hey Gio do us a big ‘un will ya, loads of mustard.”

“Always say you sound as ‘eef you have, eh, how you say? l’indigestione,’” Gio laughed.

“Shuddupa’ your face” Dale teased, understanding exactly what Gio meant.

Soft hands covered Dale’s eyes, butterflies jitter-bugged in his tummy. He knew instantly that it was Jez. He squirmed away from her tiny fingers and lifted her petite frame into his arms spinning her in a circle. Her contrary curls, bounced across her creamy cheeks, covering her dancing green eyes.

“You came, Jez,” he said, his face flush with pure delight.

“Course I came Dale, I wouldn’t miss it. You know that,” giggling, the tiny twenty year-old grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the promenade.

“Hey, the hot dog!” Gio yelled.

“Oops.” Dale ran back to the stand, gave Gio the money whilst biting off a huge mouthful. Mustard oozed then dribbled down his chin.

“Blimey! I thought you were gonna’ swallow it whole,” Jez said, playfully tapping him on the stomach.

“Come on, quick, the clowns are about to start,” Dale nudged her towards the bustling crowd.

‘Entrance of the gladiators,’ exploded from the speakers. Happy faces cheered as the clowns scattered before them, scurrying and somersaulting into position. Dale and Jez weaved between the crowds, stopping in front of the wooden boards embedded in the sand.

 

With a lavish flutter Coco produced a bunch of multi-coloured flowers from his patchwork coat. He sniffed the artificial blooms before tripping over his gigantic boots and tumbling beside a row of seated children. Giggles and tears erupted. One little girl was so terrified she dropped her ice cream and darted through the legs of the man behind, pinching his thigh as she forced her way through. Her mum sidestepped the man and followed in hot pursuit.

Another child caught Dale’s attention. The little boy watched Beppo juggling his hoops, whilst stealing furtive glances at the other kids who all seemed to have some sort of edible delight. It struck Dale as odd that he was the only child without a sticky mess around his mouth. The boy’s mother licked greedily at a cone, her long reptilian tongue flicked out rapidly like a lizard capturing its prey. Dale saw the little boy tug on his mum’s skirt pointing at her ice cream, and then winced when her hand answered the child with a cuff round the head. ‘Some people don’t deserve kids,’ he thought.

Mojo went into his comedy routine on the unicycle, his skilful manoeuvres made it appear as if the cycle was a clever extension to his body. The melodic tones of, ‘The Entertainer,’ gave the other clowns the cues they needed to juggle the skittles over his head as he feigned falling off. Everyone clapped at the antics. The crowd were in a receptive mood and cheered the jollities along. The finale was Mojo jumping the spaced planks, after several failed attempts.

Dale pulled Jez through the applauding crowd to the staged area. He had to get ready and he wanted to talk to her before he went on.

“Jez, you know how I feel about you don’t you?” he said, plucking unruly tendrils from her face.

She gazed into his eyes and saw the intensity of his question. Hot red patches appeared on her neck and cheeks, “I feel the same Dale,” her eyelids drooped as her colour intensified.

“I won’t be back here again Jez.” Dale tipped her chin with his forefinger, searching for her reaction.

“B…but what about us?” Tears spilled from her almond shaped eyes, big rolling tears that splashed her bikini clad breasts like raindrops.

“Don’t cry Jez, please don’t cry.” He drew her into his arms stroking her back and kissing her head, the fragrance of freesias wafted from her hair. Dale realised she wouldn’t be able to understand, but somehow he had to get through to her, he had to make her see.

“You could come with me,” Dale lifted her onto the edge of the stage and clasped her soft hands in his.

“What?” She looked at him sniffing, trying to stop a slow trail of snot from reaching her top lip. Without thinking Dale tugged his sleeve into the palm of his hand and wiped the glistening moisture from her eyes and nose.

“Come with me Jez. I love you hon’, please take a chance on me, on us,” he said, draping one arm around her shoulder.

“W…what,” she stared deep into his eyes that, somehow, had taken on the appearance of a tawny sea, waves crashing against a black rock. “B…but where are you going?”

“Does it really matter as long as we’re together?”

“M…my job, my friends, we’ve only known each other six weeks.”

“Six hours, six weeks, I know how I feel. Do you?” His heart beat ricocheted against his chest, bullets of hope desperate in their intent.

“I can’t just go today, I have things to get ready, I…”

“Jez it’s today or never, trust me, come with me.”

“Wow! I don’t believe I am going to say this but, Yes. Yes, I’ll come. I love you Dale.”

Whisking her off the stage he spun her round holding her tight against his body before a long lingering kiss exploded the fireworks in his mind. Cuddling her close his thoughts raced forward, he knew there was very little time.

“You must listen carefully Jez, when I go into the last song no matter what happens, follow me. Do you understand? When I start ‘Over the hills,’ I cannot come back for you, just follow. Promise me. Don’t go away.”

“But…”

“No questions, promise me.”

The urgency of his voice had her spell bound. She searched his eyes once more, nibbling her bottom lip before half whispering, “I promise.” She slipped off her jacket and tossed it down beside Dale’s guitar case.

 

***
Wiping away the sand that had settled on his guitar, Dale thought about Belle. He knew he had lied to her, it was the only way, the truth was much, much worse.

 

Angry black clouds started to form in the sky, the creeping calm of the incoming tide gave the appearance of an army, forming an attack. Foamy overlapping greens, blues and browns approaching from three different directions.

He walked over to Paddy who was happily munching on an apple. Stroking the donkey’s coarse hair at the top of his nose he whispered into his crinkly, upright ears. Anybody watching would have sworn Paddy was actually listening.

“Well slap me with a wet fish, I thought I was the only loony that talked to animals,” Belle laughed, her hobble seemed more prominent as she limped toward him.

“Nah! I’m a soppy sod too,” he laughed. “Belle I’ve got some fantastic news for you. A guy I know is prepared to take Paddy. He will have a great home for sure. The only problem is you got to meet up with him now, ‘cos he won’t be back this way again.”

“What? Where? He won’t be put down?” Excited questions spilled from her mouth.

“You and Paddy have got to climb the footpath Belle. He’s waiting at the picnic area.” Dale said, pointing toward the cliff top.

“Ah Sunshine, I’ll never make it love. Me ol’ bones just won’t…”

For the second time that day Dale placed both hands on her frail shoulders and looked deep into her weary eyes. His own shoulders clenched with tension. The serious look on his young face gave an appearance of someone much older than his years.

“You can do this. Trust me. Paddy will help you.”

Belle’s eyes locked on his hypnotic stare, unblinking, intense. She glanced at the donkey then back at Dale, the smile forming on her lips spread to a beaming grin.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Oo hoo!” he squealed, as his body relaxed, “Now off you go and I’ll meet ya’ at the top.”

“You really are a big kid,” Bella chuckled. Freeing the tether from the mooring post, she led Paddy off toward the footpath.

 

Dale leapt onto the stage, “I am the one and only…” echoing from his lips. Surprised heads turned, watching the young man belt out the song with no introduction. Twisting his knees and swivelling his hips, his sweet tenor floated above the guitar strumming and crowd noise. Dale had caught their attention. He now had to reel them in. He blew a kiss to Jez and winked at Sally who were standing on the steps of the stone memorial. At the end of the song he went straight into an instrumental and talked to the growing audience.

“Hello darling, you two sisters?” speaking to an obvious mother and daughter who swayed together in time to the music. “Give us a smile and I’ll let you pick my first song,” his fingers never faltered on the guitar strings. The pair giggled, the older one flattered by the attention of the lad with the amazing eyes.

“That’s it girls, see, a smile costs nothing.”

“Do you know ‘Hungry Eyes?‘” The younger woman shouted, clasping her hands behind her back to emphasise her ample breasts.

“Sure do, bet ya’ wish I was Patrick Swayze.” He thrust his pelvis in an undulating motion and rolled back and forth on his feet.

He breezed through songs of Snow Patrol, Robbie Williams and various others, his guitar case filling with crumpled notes, and lots of coins from the very receptive crowd. Sally gathered up the notes and stuffed them into her shoulder bag.

 

Dale glanced at the enormous black cloud over the sea, resembling a winged dragon, closing in on the beach. He knew he had to raise the tempo a few notches, and quickly. People were calling out song names, hoping he would play them.

“Well guys I’m gonna’ do some oldies but goodies…for the ol’ codger selling hot dogs.” Dale flicked his sweat-filled hair off his face grinning at Gio, who was trying to stop the Boxer from stealing off the warming area.

“Sing along if you know the words, I might be a bit too young to remember them,” his infectious laugh had the crowd in his hands.

Breaking into ‘I only want to be with you,’ the crowd erupted, cheering and clapping. Even the chubby man in a baseball cap danced, his belly wobbling under his t-shirt. Some jumped up on the stage with Dale, shimmying to the music. A couple, who seemed dressed for a wedding, jived in the corner, arms flaying in all directions. The woman came a cropper when her partner decided to do a fancy manoeuvre and promptly dropped her on her bum, her skirt rising to her waist.

Even the customers from the inn and the tea rooms came to enjoy the excitement as Dale belted out a medley of Rock N’ Roll songs. The beach was a sea of writhing bodies, children skipping about not wanting to be left out, even Mojo twisted on his unicycle. On stage, Dale led the dancing with a young girl in a bikini bumping rear ends to the tempo, until a jealous boyfriend yanked her away. The frenzy reached its peak as Dale sang ‘Do you love me.’

“I have one final surprise for you guys,” Dale shouted to the crowd after he gestured to them to lower the noise. “A new attraction to Piper Cove, a model village where dreams are fulfilled and, it’s free. It’s up there, the most beautiful village you could ever see.” Dale pointed to the cliff top and smiled when he saw that Belle was three quarters of the way up.

“Cobblers, I was up there the other day. No bleedin’ village there,” a man shouted from the crowd.

“Your funeral mate,” he shot back, “nobody’s forcing you or any one else,” Dale laughed. “Ya comin’ with me?”

His fingers strummed the chords as he started singing.

 

‘You, with your masquerading…’

One woman grabbed his waist and the human chain started to form. They followed his every move.

 

‘…Hey come on babe, follow me, I’m the Pied Piper…’

 

It was a giant conga line. Dale led the crowd jogging, skipping up the steep path.

 

‘…Trust in me, I’m the Pied Piper…’

 

The clowns strutted criss-crossing, pretending to play the pipes through the gate, following in Dale’s footsteps, they ushered the crowd before them.

 

Dale glanced out to sea and, without missing a beat, went into ‘Over the hills’. Nobody questioned where the pipes and mandolin music came from; they were just enjoying the Conga up the cliff path. If they could see Dale’s fear filled eyes, their enjoyment would have been short lived.

 

Overtaking Belle near the top of the path, he stared intently, willing her to finish the final hurdle. He could see her struggle but he had to keep playing. Everyone had to make it through by their own efforts.

 

The music intensified, his fingers dancing demoniacally across the fret board. He ran to the entrance of the cave and gestured for the crowd to enter. Sound echoed from within the stone tunnel, beautiful, wondrous, a hypnotic melody accompanying Dale like an invisible orchestra. The excited people began entering the cave, still gyrating to the music.

 

Dale looked out to sea, open terror crossing his face. Black clouds shaped a malevolent dark monster. Intermittent patches of green-brown splashed its deadly face. The sea formed angry peaks like violent snow-capped mountains. Three conflicting currents attacked each other for domination. The wind howled, battling with the music in an attempt to overpower its sound. Dale’s fingers never faltered in their frenzied dance, the pipe music increased in volume trying to dominate the furious wind.

Reveller’s smiles turned to fear as the wind finally broke the music’s spell. The realisation of what was about to happen, widened their now subdued eyes. Their skips turned into a run as they jostled to get to the safety of the cave. Dale’s face drained when he saw Belle fall to the ground and Paddy trying to nudge her with his nose. He was rooted to the spot, like the tree beside him; his finger tips split open as he played, and dripped blood onto the body of his guitar.

”Belle get up, it’s only ten metres, get up!” He yelled at her to rise. Mojo and Coco came running up the track and scooped Belle under her arms, hauling her to her feet.

“Come on Belle!” Mojo said, as he and Coco hooked the tired woman’s arms around their necks.

“Paddy, what about Paddy?” Belle screamed, the ferocious wind threatening to blow her feet from under her.

“We’ll come back for him.” Mojo and Coco half-dragged, half-lifted the old woman towards the cave mouth. Mojo stared at Dale’s hands still dancing the fret board, his bleeding fingertips unable to stop playing the music of life. Mojo lifted his gaze and saw the terror etched on Dale’s face. “Take her,” he instructed Coco. The clown dragged the hysterical woman through the entrance, .

“Where’s Jez?” Dale shouted, as the wind threatened to whip away his question, he was inwardly praying for the answer he craved.

 

“I don’t know…” Mojo held his hands up in a hopeless gesture, before fighting the driving wind and rain to get to Paddy.

Dale peered down the path, searching the faces of the final stragglers. He caught sight of Sally hanging on to the little boy’s hand, but no sign of Jez.

 

‘Where was she?’ his heart beat drumming at his chest…‘Why didn’t she listen to me?’ His eyes went back to Mojo fighting with Paddy’s rein. The donkey was frightened and wouldn’t budge from the path’s edge. Mojo shouted at Paddy before circling the animal then leaning his body against his rear end. In any other circumstance Dale would have laughed at the angry clown, but he knew this was life or death.

Forks of bright, white light shattered the black cloud. The increasing thunderous roar turned their eyes to the open sea. Dale’s throat restricted as he saw the mountainous wall of grey-green water. Three currents of snow-capped foam were now united in a destructive pursuit, gaining momentum and hurtling towards the beach. Terrified, Mojo grabbed the umbrella prop from his pocket and whacked Paddy hard on the bum. This was enough to move the stubborn donkey toward the cave.

 

Dale scanned the beach and saw all the people who had not made the trek, running for their lives. Fishing vessels and small boats started to crash against the cliff as the wave surge pushed everything in its path.

 

Sally ran to Dale, her fingers wrapped round the little boy’s wrist, her fingernails digging into his skin.

“Sally, where’s Jez?” Dale yelled, his voice cracking with desperation.

“She went for her jacket. I tried to stop her, but she…” Sally tried to catch her breath. Tears filled her eyes when she saw the desolation on his face. She stared at his shredded fingers, her mouth dropped. The Man came from the cave and gently laid his hands on her shoulders steering her and the shivering boy toward the entrance. She looked back at Dale before entering the cave.

Dale caught sight of Jez running up the footpath. “RUN JEZ RUN!” He shot a glance at the huge wave as it thundered towards the beach. “RUN PLEASE…” The word please came out as a sob, dragged from the depths of his soul.

He saw her look up at the wave. As if resigning herself to her fate she put one hand over her heart, touched her lips with the other and held it up to him. A second later, the roaring wall crashed over her.

The blood curdling scream that left his lips echoed within the wind.

He felt hands grab his shoulder and haul him inside the portal, the rock-face seamlessly closing behind them just before the wave struck.

“Come my son, there was nothing you could do. Be thankful for those you managed to save. People just won’t listen. Your job is done,” The Man said. He put a powerful arm round Dale’s defeated shoulders and guided him deeper inside.

 

***

“Wot’ really ‘appened’ere Tone?” Don said, stepping back from the advertising board they had just erected.

“Well I don’t know the full story, a lot is gossip and old wives tales,” Tony said, stripping off his t-shirt and wiping sweat from the back of his neck with it.

“Yea, but I’d like to know. I mean it’s such a lovely place…”

They sat down on the rocks; Don picked up a handful of loose pebbles from the ground and launched them over the cliff.

“It was a tidal wave I think; I’m not really sure…I’m no flippin’ weather man. The bods at the Earth Scientists Centre said it was something to do with after shocks, shifting currents or some sorta cobblers. You know what they’re like blinding people with high falutin’ terms.” Tony looked down at the ruined town, the only life now were the seagulls searching for food in the deserted buildings. “According to the memorial same sorta’ thing happened a hundred years ago.”

“But a lot of people died didn’t they?” A curious look crossed Don’s face.

“Yes, poor buggers, strange thing though, they only found seventy five bodies. I suppose the sea will be spitting them up for years to come. I think only fifteen people survived. Some ol’ Italian loony kept on spouting crap about a musician leading people to safety. Up here as it happens.”

“Wot’ ‘appened to ‘im Tone? Could ‘e ‘ave been telling the truth? ”

“I don’t know. What planet are you from Don? Look round you, where would they go?”

Don scanned the area and, grinning at Tony, said, “Point taken mate.”

“OI! Odge and Bodgit, you’re not on bleedin’ holiday.” The foreman shouted from the truck.

The two men started toward the truck. Tony stopped in mid-stride, imagining he could hear music, then shaking his head.

 

 

My Fiction Website

Mairi Angus is affectionately known as Ma 100 and is the wild card in the pack. She took up writing eight months ago and wishes she had done it 28 years ago. She does not describe herself as a writer, more a teller of stories. Mairi has an on-going battle with punctuation, grammar and tense which she calls her beasts, but she is determined not to let this barrier get in the way of writing her stories. 

The Beasts

The beasts still get at me, I can’t think, my sleep is interrupted, my mind is in turmoil. The fear they instill in me is worse than being stalked on a dark lonely night. At least I know I can knock on the nearest door with a light on, and some kind soul will come to my rescue.

The little curly one hates me the most. It causes me to take a breath, but it never stops still long enough for me to catch it. I peer at the minuscule monsters, trying so hard to rid myself of the fear, but it’s no use. They taunt me, laughing at my confusion. They dance in front of my eyes like a demonic flea circus.

I don’t understand how others can see and destroy the views in front of them. I am left behind because of my fear. I question the shape of the beasts, but it’s as if my comprehension is limited. Others see me as stupid, pathetic, afraid of such tiny monsters, but they don’t see what I see.

All I know is, my past, present and future is held in the hands of these monsters and I don’t now how to change it. I close my eyes and pray that they will do the right thing and leave me in peace. But I shiver, knowing full well they’re too wise for me.

But, defeat these beasts I must for me to move forward. So, once again I collect my thoughts hold my breath and cross my fingers. Butterflies flutter in my tummy, beads of sweat on my neck dampen my hair. My fear on display for all to see, ready for the onslaught of comments about my demons.

One day I will say goodbye to the terrors; punctuation, grammar and viewpoints and then I will relax confident in what I do.
‘I am at war with punctuation, tense and grammar. One day I will defeat the beast…Ma 100′