Midwinter Mystery - Chapter Eleven - " The Road to Nowhere "

_{Midwinter Mystery – Chapter Eleven}

_{“untiled    “}

     _{A loud deep throaty – self-inflicted - snore, jolted John from his slumber. But he remained unmoved by this suddenly interruption, choosing instead to savour the last precious moments of tranquility that existed on the borders between the dream state and the land of the living. Laying wrapped in a cocoon of bed sheets - resistant to the notion of having to leave the warmth of their protective custody – he knew, and grimly accepted that it was only a matter of time before he would have to face the cruel reality of a frigid room. Eventually, he reluctantly swung his legs out from under the sanctuary of the covers to greet the unwelcoming morning and sacrificed his bare feet on the altar of the cold wooden floor. Sitting on the edge of the bed he rubbed a hand over his semi conscious, half paralyzed face, temporarily rearranging it's features, and released a cavernous full bodied yawn followed by an overly ambitious stretch of the arms. Once this conditioned response to stirring after so long a period of inactivity was completed he stepped into his slippers and shuffled towards the sink. The small adjacent window had frozen over during the night, forming crystallized patterns across the pane, but there was sufficient enough of the dull light filtering through for John to continue his life affirming ablutions - cold water ( hot water still not available ), shaving cream, sharp razor, and the refreshing face slap of astringent aftershave. Once dressed there was the mandatory last minute check of his appearance in an old rickety three quarter length mirror, resulting in a slight adjustment to a well shaped black silk tie and the expunging of a small scuff mark, with a dirty handkerchiefs - on one of his well polished black leather shoes.}

_{Even before reaching the bottom of the stairs John could detect the welcoming aroma of fried eggs, bacon and fresh coffee, his stomach grumbled with expectation.}

_{"Morning all !” he greeted his two comrades, who were already sitting at the small table eating their breakfast. “ Something smells good, and I'm not talking about the pair of you,” he quipped. Buster looked up from his plate, holding a doorstep size of toast in one hand and a large white badly chipped mug of coffee in the other, a deep frowned expression crossed his overgrown brow, “ What'd yer say ?”}

_{"He said you don't smell good !” replied George without looking up from his plate, concentrating as he was on soaking up a runny egg with a piece of bread.}

_{"Cor, he's good a cheek ain't he, what with coming in here smelling like..a.. a tart's boudoir after Christmas,” retaliated Buster in a defensive strike.}

_{"I didn't say you smelled !” John denied fervently.}

_{"YES YOU DID ! I 'eard you say it !” countered George, pointing a butter knife at John.}

_{"Well..yes.. I suppose it may have sounded like that, but I didn't mean it to come out that way !” he explained awkwardly. “ Look, can we just start this day over again... please !”}

_{"Wot does he want now ?” queried Buster in a confused state.}

_{"He wants us to start again,” replied George unhelpfully, taking a big gulp of drink.}

_{"Oh no, I can't do that ! One breakfast is all I can eat these days !” replied Buster updating his current dining status. John sighed in despair, pulling out a spare chair from underneath the table, “ Is there any going spare ?” he asked pointing at a frying pan on the stove awash with bacon and eggs still spitting in hot fat. “ Yeah, course ! Help yerself, there should be a spare plate lying around 'ere too, somewhere,” George answered leaning back in his chair, cup in hand. “ Good ! Do you know I can't remember when I last had a proper cooked breakfast, “ replied John seating himself down and arranging the odd assortment of cutlery before him.}

_{“ There might be some coffee left in the pot, if you want some,” chimed Buster, lifting a white painted metal jug from the center of the table and sloshing it about. “ 'Ere it's still warm too !” he confirmed.}

_{"Thanks,” said John, finding a spare cup nearby he made a cursory glance at it for cleanliness and gave it a short sharp blow inside - to remove any foreign bodies - then filled it up. As he sat with his plate now loaded up with food and a cup of coffee at hand, he reflected how it wasn't such a bad way to start a day, any day in fact, especially in Mistry – perhaps things weren't as bad here as he first thought.}

_{John was finishing his second cup of coffee, to help wash his meal down, when Buster commenced clearing the table. John offered to do the washing up, but Buster declined insisting that he had a 'system'. Unfortunately, before he had a chance to outline the general logistics of it, a wet cup slipped through his hands and despite an entertaining but otherwise doomed attempt at manual dexterity, it fell to the stone floor and smashed to pieces. John smiled, “ Perhaps it would be easier and cheaper to just wash the crockery and the floor at the sametime – what you might call ' making a clean sweep' of it all !” he joked. George had already left the table, making some excuse about an outstanding chore or other, missing the little kitchen sink drama, and made his hurried escape.}

_{It wasn't until much later that morning when they were all finally together again in one room, which had given John the chance to draw up a new duty roster for them all – or 'article of war' as he humourously referred to it. Taking Buster's long history of loyal service into consideration, above and beyond the call of retirement, and his general appearance into consideration, it was decided that he would be best suited – manning the front desk and answering the telephone for the rest of the day. Whereas John and George would were to drive out to the scene where the 'reported' spectral incident had occurred, to scout for any physical evidence to support or disprove the young P.C's supernatural hypothesis.}

_{The drive up into the hills proved to be a particularly painful experience - in more ways than one - which was not entirely unexpected, after all hearse's aren't generally associated with off road pursuits, and John was prepared to swear – at length - to the fact that it was sorely lacking where it counted most. Over the roar of the Austin's old engine, straining under the cross-country assault, John battled to find something, anything, that he could hang onto in order to stop himself from flailing about. As his struggle continued he hardly had time to take in the rolling scenery, with it's succession of tall dark trees lining the way, descending into the skies their high boughs obscured from sight by a thick low hanging mist while their lower branches hung under the burden of heavy snow. George continued to handle the unwieldy 'people carrier' with all the skill and panache of a stock car racer in a china shop, and seemed determined to set them on a collision course with every pot hole in their path.}

_{"So, how did you manage to...ughh.. end up with this... arghh..poor excuse of a vehicle, then ?” John managed to ask as he was being thrown around in the cab. “ Oh, right... well you see, ha, ha, that's kind of a funny story, really, I guess !”George answered nervously, staring intently straight ahead, his mind racing faster than they were – while his knuckles began turning white as he gripped the steering wheel ever tighter. John wondered about his drivers demeanor and if he might be preparing for some last ditch attempt or about to jump ship, so prudently kept a free hand near the door catch – just to be on the safe side. “ Go on. I could do with a laugh,” he taunted, raising an eyebrow at him. “ 'That's the one !” George exclaimed, abruptly wrenching the steering wheel hard over sending them careening off the road. John was caught off guard by this unexpected manouevre and left helpless as he suddenly felt the rear of the motor swing out from under them. George fought feverishly, but ineptly, for control turning the whell this way and that, unfortunately his actions merely resulted in sending John slamming into the side of the cab then up out of the seat, smacking his head on the roof. While the four wheeled 'death machine' rocked and rolled, kicked and bucked, before eventually grinding to a shuddering lopsided halt on a snowy verge. “ Uuuhh, what the hell happened ?” queried John slightly dazed from a sprawled position on the floor. Regaining his seat and composure he began to gingerly feel his aching skull, wincing every now and again when he touched upon a tender area.}

_{"There you go !” proclaimed George laying pressed against his door, a condition brought about by the car now resting on a raised stretch of bank. “ This where we almost crashed into a tree,” he explained.}

_{"How can you be so sure of that ?” asked John incredulously, peering out the front windscreen. “ 'Cos we almost clobbered it again, comin' the other way !” revealed George pointing to a large tree right in front of them. “ See, that's me tread marks over there,” George confirmed, once more directing John's attention to the road ahead.}

_{"YOU BLITHERING IDIOT ! I just wanted to SEE the scene of the crime, NOT RECREATE IT !” John shouted angrily back as he tried to loosen the passenger door open with his shoulder. Finally succeeding, he grabbed the sides of the door and catapulted himself up and clear of the vehicle, “ Just for the record, I like a little notice when I'm about to be involved in a murder/suicide attempt, thank you very much !” John continued, unable to hide his annoyance. “ And why did the back end swing out like that ?” he followed up.}

_{"I dunno, it's not like it's light or anythin'...” George replied honestly, “ .. I mean we're carrying close to a full load back there, right now.”}

_{"A 'full load' of what, exactly ?” John asked apprehensively, staring down at the bottom of his snow drenched trousers and shoes, both of which he wondered would ever be the same again.}

_{"King Edwards, 'course ! What else ?” George illuminated, matter of factly.}

_{"Is that supposed to be a rhetorical question ?” replied John, as he made his way carefully around the motor, hands crawling along it's side for support as his feet slipped from under him on the icy ground. “ Never mind, just explain to me what possible reason there is for us to be carting a hearseful of potatoes around ?”}

_{"Breakfast,” George answered loudly through the open door, while struggling to free himself from behind the steering wheel.}

_{"WHAT ! You can't tell me that you actually intend eating that lot by yourself, do you ? It'll take you months, man !”}

_{"No, their not for me, they belong to farmer Williams ! I'm just shifting 'em down to the store for him,” confessed George, finally managing to extricate himself from motor, by falling to the ground. “ Hmm, I take it that this is one of those 'public services' that you were telling me about,” said John looking down hopelessly at his ejected assistant, then turning his back on him he started to walk away stamping his feet hard on ther ground trying to dislodge any remaining snow from them. “ Yeah, that's right !” George confirmed enthusiastically as he caught up by John's side. “ And in return he lets us 'ave a coupla rashers of bacon, give or take, and a handful of eggs a week.”}

_{"My, the wages of sin are certainly cheap around here aren't they ?” John surmised sarcastically. “ I take it that I have one such 'enterprise' of yours to thank for my breakfast this morning,” he concluded philosophically.}

_{"Yeah, you could say that,” George replied warily.}

_{"Well, once I get in touch with the bank and free up your wages that thing will have to stop, do you hear ?” John warned gently, as he was hardly in any position now to chastise the young P.C after benefiting from the ill-gotten gains himself.}

_{"Yeah, sure,” George agreed all to easily.}

_{"All right, well let's get a move on shall we ? Where did this mysterious stranger of yours appear from then ?”}

_{"I.. er... guess it was sort of... roundabout there... I think,” George waved an arm in a general direction kind of way, not inspiring John with much confidence. Turning away he studied the stretch of road before them for a moment before concluding, “ IS THAT IT ?” he said standing with his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief. “ Can't you at least tell me WHICH side of the road he sprang from ?” he pressed frustratedly.}

_{"NO ! I looked up and there he was, just standing in the middle of the road... right in front of us !” clarified George slightly perturbed. “ I see, well in that case, I think we'd be better off starting the search where the skid-marks actually begin, then work our way back to the car from there. That way we'll be less likely to miss anything,” John reasoned. “ You take that side of the road and I'll take this one,” he ran with the old adage that ' a job shared is a job halved' and hoped that the division of labour would lessen his time in 'the field', so to speak, and save what was left of his footwear – before they were beyond salvation.}

_{As he steadily scoured the undergrowth for tracks, broken branches or any other signs of recent disturbance John proceeded to mentally review the facts of the case as presented to him so far, or rather the absence of them, and weigh them against the tower of superstition, folklore and fear which had been served up to him ever since he had arrived in this peculiar village. Infact such was the overwhelming level, John was concerned that if things remained unchanged then it could threaten to impede, possibly corrupt the entire course of the investigation. As to their present excursion he considered the whole affair nothing more than a wild goose chase, a fanciful tale inspired by an excess of 'B' movies and an over excitable imagination. But he acknowledged that he had played more than his fair share of 'long shots' in his time – admittedly with mixed results – and as he had been assured that there was an 'independent' witness to the occurrence then he felt duty bound to follow it up.}

_{"We're in luck,” said John studying the ground, “ it doesn't look like there's been too much new snow recently. And see how the surface has frozen over – that should have preserved the integrity of the site.”}

_{"Cor, that's proper detecting that is ! You're like that fella... wot's 'is name.. Sherlock Holmes !” expressed George with a growing sense of respect.}

_{"Er, thanks ! But it's just your basic common sense and general observation, really,” John dismissed his constable's favourable comparison but privately was rather flattered by the remark.}

_{The two men worked their respective sides in concert with each other, heads bowed, eyes down and an intense air of concentration written across their brows. Every now and again one of them would disappear into a dense thicket to examine it more closely, only to return a short time later without anything to show for their efforts except a handful of scratches. One of these mystery rambles had led John to stray further into the woods than usual, by which time his spirits were lagging and his flesh was weak as he lost all resistance and feeling in his feet to the freezing wet snow that saturated his shoes and socks. But as he was about to abandon all hope John noticed a section of bracken that had been heavily trampled over recently, by the look of it either by some large animal or …. a man. From there he followed a short trail of snapped twigs and broken or bent back branches to a small clearing covered in footprints, standing there for a while John tried to make sense of the scene when he spied something suspicious just breaking through the surface of the snow.} 

_{“GEORGE ! GEORGE, COME OVER HERE ! I THINK I'VE FOUND SOMETHING !” he shouted, the noise scattering a murder of crows from their high eyrie. He went over and bent down to pick it up when suddenly there was a whisper sound from behind him, he twisted round - too late -}

_{a blinding pain exploded in his brain and his world turned black. Not even the pure white snow that received his limp body, as it collapsed face down, offered any resolution. He lay there, still, silent, a light flurry of snow swept across the ground depositing a thin blanket over him, while all that could be heard was the raucous cawing of crows as they circled above.}

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All About Eve - A Life Story in Five Minutes.

                                                            All About Eve 

  Meet Eve, she's 88 years old, her star sign is Taurus, she's a mother, she's a widower. 

She stills recall the day she sat on the brick wall at outside her home and saw a young man, with a shock of blonde hair swept back, come tearing down the road on his bicycle - LEGS held straight out in front of him, pedals spinning wildly around - and a small terrier dog balancing itself precariously over the handlebars. "I'm going to marry that man," Eve said to herself, and true enough several years later she did - despite her mother's protests. They married in Egypt, her new husband being posted there during for his time in the forces. It was the start of the nineteen-fifties and a time of great civil unrest out there, and she'll never forget the fearful night  when she and a girlfriend, a lone by themselves, while their husband's where on duty,  had to barricade their flat's door against a mob of outraged natives calling for the British to leave their country. They settled back in England later that decade, and soon had their first child, a girl, another child followed a couple of years later, this time a boy, but sadly his life was to be just a fleeting appearance. She lived through the great winter freeze of '63, watched history in the making when mankind left it's footprint on the moon. In the Seventies, she experienced the era of strikes and the three-day-week, everything seemed to be in short demand particularly money. She smiles when telling people how she had to hide on the staircase one day to avoid paying the coal man. 

          Her daughter had just turned sixteen when she ran away from home, no reason, no note, just an empty bed and tears left behind. A few years later a telephone call came from a hospital simply informing her that “ both mother and child were resting comfortably”. With the sudden addition to the family a larger home was required, so came another move. Eve's husband took advantage of a work contract a broad to help cover the expansion of bills. Eve joined him out there for a while and they even considered making the move a more permanent one but in the end they returned to England. Instead a new job, another move, this time further down the country, just the two of them again, daughter and child now settled in a new life of her own. The Eighties came along and brought with it the 'recession', AIDS, and the return of their daughter with her young son - only two of these directly affected Eve's home life. The Nineties, was a time of sadness for Eve as her brother died of cancer, he was the last of her remaining immediate family, and a year or so later she suffered from a prolapsed womb. The decade closed with her daughter emigrating to Australia with her new husband.

       She saw a new millennium in, well she went to bed before it and met it on the other side. And two years later a sudden massive heart attack saw her husband taken from her. Life still went on, as it does, she down sided to a care assisted flat in her advancing years, at first old age treated her with respect, it drew fine lines around her features, and softened her jowls, but left the warmth and intelligence in her eyes. Then one morning it crept into her flat, and without ny warning stole her spark, and her independence. You never see this final stage coming it always seems to strike suddenly and without care. Eve spends her day at the care home shuffling from here to there, or sitting in one of pvc armchairs surrounding the room, as if waiting for the last dance on her card, all while the large television screen loudly screams at them, inexplicably stuck on a entertainment channel playing endless shows aimed at the young, like ' Take Me Out ' or 'Love Island'.

        Did you guess which one of ladies is Eve ? …... No, well the answer is simple …. they all are. They  have all lived a life, they have all contributed in someway or another to society, they have all touched another person's life and given of their love.
      So, why do we as a civilised society not strive to provide and care better for these veterans of life, this is the time when they need us most. We must change the way we look at these people, and more importantly the way we face ourselves. We as a people, as voters, as humanitarians must accept our duty and call, demand  the government to radically address this growing situation. We must have more powers to regulate 'Care' homes, to ensure that they can provide adequate facilities and services that will encourage and stimulate their residents. With comprehensive dietary needs, physiotherapy sessions and interactive activities. But, we must also eliminate the stigma of these institutions,tear down old perceptions and re imagine them for a new generation, But, we can't begin to do anything of these things until we radicalize the system as a whole. We need a new business model for 'homes' that will encourage recruitment, offer better training opportunities, higher wages, incentives, support, to meet the increasing demand of the future. Yes, investment is needed, but it is a price we MUST pay. Please, let's stop these homes from being a place where the old and in-firmed are afraid to
go. Old age won't wait for ever, eventually it will come to us all, so let us stand together now, write a petition, organize a march, or just demand action now. Eve deserves better than this, and so do you  and I. 

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