Midwinter Mystery - Chapter Thirteen - " Death of a State of Mind"

_{“ Death of a State of Mind ”}

_{“ YEAAAHH !” John screamed out in torment, his half naked body tensed in an reflex action. “ YOUR HANDS ARE FREEZING, MAN !” he exploded, spasmodically shivering from the aftershock. He was laid out on a examination couch in what appeared to be an old doctor's surgery. The couch was pushed closely up and under a murky tall window, framed either side by a pair of long dusty looking curtains, drawn wide open in the half dark room. The only other source of illumination was supplied by a brass and green glass banker's lamp standing on a beaten up roller bureau over subscribed with various bits of paper over on the far side of room.}

_{“ Ahh now, are not cold fingers jus' the sign of a good doctor. As me good father - God rest his soul - used to say “They provide a tonic for the soul, touching the parts dat the deevil 'imself cannot reach,” answered the mature looking gentleman standing over John. He had an amiable disposition about him supported by a well lived-in figure and topped off with a crown of fluffy white hair, which didn't have so much a style about it as more a free roaming attitude.}

_{“ Well in that case then, you're over qualified !" retorted John, "I still don't remember all that much about what happened to me after the accident,"he continued as he grasped a thin white crumpled sheet from the bottom of the bed and dragged it up over himself."The last thing I recall is the car door swinging open - probably due to crashing through that gate - then falling out of the damned motor.After that, things get kind of blurry."}

_{“ I'm not surprised at all,” answered the doctor, “ Ye've a fair few cracks ta the head there. I expect ye're memory is just havin' a rest for a spell – you should try it yer'self sometime,” he paused as he stood over John, hands resting on either side of a stethoscope dangling around his neck, to let the suggestion sink in for a moment. “You say, you just found me wandering around in some field, on my own ?” quizzed John, trying to put the pieces together. “ That would be the truth of the matter. Mary and me saw yer out in the field there,” the doctor pointed a finger out towards the window to indicate a large expanse of open country in the distance, “ while we havin' one of our walks. At first I thought yer were lost or somethin', but then yer went and collapsed right in front of us.”}

_{“ Mary ? Is that your wife ?” asked John.}

_{“ Me dog, man !” the doctor answered sharply. " No, the wife has never taken' ta the walkin' there, she says it disagrees with her constitution.”}

_{“ I see,” said John, gently massaging the back of his neck to ease some of the stiffness and pain out of it. “ Still, I find it hard to believe that you managed to carry me all the way back here on your own.”}

_{“ Ahh, well I can hardly take all the credit for it meself now, for did not your own legs lend a hand there themselves ?” the doctor smiled warmly leaning forward to inspect John's dressing for a final time. “ Huh, d'yer ever stop to tink about the human brain at all,” he murmured still intently studying his handiwork, “ Is it not the most fragile and complex organ in the human body. Responsible for keepin' us all goin' without botherin' ourselves with all the details. And then there's all the thinkin' an' the walkin' and so forth, not too mention the dreamin', not forgettin' those hopes and fears dat we all suffer from. Why life jus' wouldn't be worth living without it, for sure” his lecture concluded he straightened up and relieved a small pair of bifocals from their duty at the end of his nose.}

_{“ Sorry, are you making a point about something ?” John asked finding it hard to follow the physician's line of reasoning to a logical conclusion, due to injury or not.}

_{“ Well, would ya not consider stoppin' all the bashin' about of it, man ? Y'know, I thought you were close to knockin' on the Pearly Gates there for a while. If we hadn't found you when we did, then you might have been talkin' to somebody more 'higher up' than meself, right now,”}

_{“ Really ?” John started, clearly shaken by the revelation. “ I know I blacked out there a couple of times, but I didn't realize I was as bad as all that !” He carefully dismounted from the bed and stumbled over to the rest of his clothes which were thrown across the back of an armless chair. “ Easy lad, why don't you just sit yerself down there for a while, before you fall and risk undoing all me good work,” observed the doctor. “ Y'know what, I'll do the same thin' meself, after all have I not got more weight on me shoulders than me feet know what to do with already.”}

_{John took the doctor's suggestion without resistance and lowered himself gently down onto the seat. It was then that he had afforded himself the opportunity to inspect the rest of his surroundings. The lower walls were half wood panelled in large square sections, while the upper walls were covered in a plain reddish brown wallpaper with a set of double lamped wall lights – not working – one set on either side of the room. Besides the couch, the bureau, and the chair John was sitting on the only other furnishings were a wooden swivel chair, a bookcase with crammed shelves, and a coffee type table. There were two other things about the room that caught his eye, one was the glass case – mounted on the wall – containing a macabre example of taxidermy.A bird of prey, a sparrowhawk as best as John could discern,was suspended in time on an eternal hunt. It's wings fully extended and bearing it's sharp deadly talons for the kill of a fearful looking field mouse. The second observation was a far less dramatic experience as it concerned the olfactory senses rather than the visual. Lingering in the air was the unmistakable trace of an exotic scent, one that he was only too familiar with in his professional capacity.}

_{The doctor reclined in the creaky swivel chair, tilting back in it as far as it would go, he slowly rotated around to face John. Sitting patiently and quietly for a while, keeping an ever watchful - but discreet - eye on his patient's progress and then rubbing his chin in a pensive frame of mind asked, “Tell me, this 'Cathy' woman that yer kept callin' out ta on the way back here, is she ye're wife or somethin' ?” John looked solemnly down at the floor, seemingly fixating his attention to one single spot and spoke as much to himself as to anyone else, “ Yes, she is. Well.. she was..” The question proved harder to answer than he thought – for aren't we are all in some way identified, categorized and remembered by the labels we attain from those dearest to us in life. And is not these that not only define our relationships with one another but establish our existence, our identity, our very souls. A name is but a part of who we are, but it's our designations and personal choices of who wish to share this fleeting journey of ours with that truly define us, and transcends any earthly bond. A domestic animal's stake to the claim of 'pet' is beyond perpetuity – in fact they're anthropomorphic qualities only increase with fondness by their owner/family. To a child -whatever their age - a parent, will forever – and deservedly – always retain their respected titles of Father and Mother. Friends( best of ), those people in our lives who have accepted us foilbles et al, as much as we have them and theirs – there is no expiry date stamped on the honoured position - 'a Friend for life'. And for those few people that cross our lives however briefly, who stimulate, challenge and encourage us to grow as individuals and in doing so enrich our lives for all the better, these role model people will always retain the rank of 'special', when they are remembered.}

_{As the saying goes, 'Till death do us part', and for many and certainly as far as John was concerned this was a point of considerable conjecture. With all this in mind, he gave the reply the due deliberation and respect it deserved, “ She.. er,..passed away a few months ago you see. She was killed in a car accident. I wasn't with her when it happened. I was working – as always,” recounted John, his eyes glistening with sorrow and regret. “ The last time I saw her we were married,” he held up his left hand, displaying a gold band wedding ring on it, which he lightly rolled around using the thumb and forefinger of the other hand before clenching his hand into a fist.“And then we weren't. I didn't even say good-bye to her. Maybe that's why I still feel as if she's my wife in some way – I'm married, married to a memory. I guess that doesn't make much sense, does it ?” John's head hung heavy and slowly sunk into the palm of his hands to help carry it's burden. He hadn't intended to open up so much if at all, perhaps it was the concussion talking out of turn or maybe it was the first time since his wife's death that there was nothing else to hide his true feelings behind.}

_{“ Ah, I'm not sure yer askin' the right man about dat sort of thin'. For have I not seen too often how death takes the sick as mercilessly as the healthy, and the young as freely and as cruelly as the old. No, I can't say dat there's any sense or reason to anything where death is concerned,” replied the doctor thoughtfully. “ But, I'm sorry to hear about ye're loss, it's a great shame, so it is. You know it's sad thin' dat there's still no known cure for grief yet - except for time. ' The great healer' so they say it is, but like medicine it can tak' longer to work it's course on some as it does on others. It all depends on the patient, whether they're ready, or want, to be healed yet. And not even a foine doctor like meself can do anythin' to help dat, yer know. But now listen, I'm sure your good lady wife wouldn't like to see you sufferin' like dis, especially if she knew it was on account of her, would she now ?”}

_{It was a good question, no doubt about it, and the answer was simple – simple but still no less easy for John to accept. “ No, she wouldn't. In fact, she'd probably give me a hard time about it, then give me one of those smiles of hers, the type that made the dimples of her cheeks standout, and tell me in some clever way to move on with my life.” he remembered warmly. Lowering his shoulders he sunk into a well of despair, “ It's just that I can't stop thinking about how she died. Lying there all alone in the middle of the road," he raised his head and looked straight at the doctor, his eyes glistening with remorse."I should've been there for her ! To hold her in my arms, for the last time, to comfort and reassure, To tell her that everything was going to be all right - and not to be afraid ! To tell her that I loved her,” he choked.}

_{“ Here now, laddie, don't go getting' yerself all worked up about things like dat,” counselled the doctor, leaning forward in his chair. “There's plenty of sadness in life to go around as der is. And I've not a heard a case yet, where it's been helped by blamin' yer'self for not doin' anythin' about somethin' dat you didn't know was goin' to happen in the first place. John raised his head a deep quizzical expression drawn across it's brow, “ WHAT ?” he asked curtly.}

_{“ I'm just sayin', fer all the tings in loife yer can change, there are just as many dat yer can't. It's jus' the way it is lad, and ders nothin' any of us can do about it. Now yer told me dat it was an accident a moment ago, well perhaps yer should keep tellin' dat to yerself, more often,” the doctor clarified as he busied himself with cleaning the lenses of his glasses with a handkerchief – more out of habit than necessity. John dropped his head dramatically back into the palm of his hands, as if to escape the truth, “ I know, I know ! I've said the same sort of thing myself a hundred times or more to other people, friends and families of victims. But now they're just empty words to me, meaningless things that are spoken to others to make them feel better and protect their feelings.”}

_{“ Have yer not talked ta anyone at all about this ?” enquired the doctor, a concerned note in his voice. “ Ye're family, surely they must have been some comfort to yer ?”}

_{John drew himself up and slumped back into the chair, “ No, no one ! I'm an only child and my parents died a few years back. As for the rest of my relations they're few and far between these days, and I'm barely on Christmas Card terms with the best of them. And Cathy's family... well, I could hardly bother them with my troubles when they're grieving with their own loss. No, I have to deal with this myself – alone.” John closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, “ If only I could get past thinking about the last time we were together. Mornings are the worst. It was early in the morning and we were in the bedroom. The sun shone brightly through the net curtains, and crossed the room falling over the dressing table where she was sat brushing her hair. I was running late for work – nothing new there – and halfway out the door when Cathy called me back to remind me of some dinner engagement or other that evening. I told her I'd try my best to make it, but I couldn't promise anything – as always. Police work can be very unforgiving when it comes to a social life you know.” John rubbed his tired eyes then ran the hand down over his face until it came to rest over the mouth where it caught an escaping yawn. “ Then my staff car arrived to pick me up so I had to dash. And, that's how we parted. No kisses, No farewells.”}

_{“I see. Dat's a pity to hear, so it is,” the doctor's reply may have appeared somewhat perfunctory - but this was not the case. It was simply that his attention was more distracted by John's overall behaviour. Judging by everything he had seen and heard in this last few minutes he feared that John might be exhibiting the first signs of nervous exhaustion. “ I'll tell yer what, why don't I get us both a drink ? Yer could certainly do with one and me mouth doesn't like to see other people drinking on their own, so it does,” with that he stood up and started towards the door. Turning around before leaving the room he looked back over at John one final time, as if checking that his condition hadn't deteriorated any further in that short time and that he was wasn't in immediate danger of falling flat on his face. “ I'll be just a minute or two, so don't go moving yer'self about too much 'til then, all right !”}

_{The room fell silent, strangely ominously silent. John hadn't noticed it before but there wasn't even a clock in the room to tick away the deafening stillness. Even his own mind felt like it was starting to quieten down in empathy. He sat patiently and obediently in the chair while waiting for the doctor to return, although he probably couldn't have ventured that much further even if he had wanted to. As attacks of lightheadiness started to became more frequent and prolonged. John forced his eyes wider open in response to their closing demands and tried to shake out the tiredness from his system but this only seemed to aggravate the condition.}

_{He started to gradually subside in the chair, the flat ground beckoning him towards it, then without warning, “ You really should be more careful in future, darling,” came a disembodied voice from somewhere behind him. John nearly fell off his seat trying to catch up with his heart jumping out his chest. “ I mean, you haven't exactly got a thick head there you know, a thick skin perhaps – when it suits you. And as for your feet, well they're hardly up to regulation issue, flatly speaking that is, are they ?” Cathy leaned over her husband's shoulder until there was only a hair's breadth between their two faces, “Actually, the more I think about it, I'm not entirely sure if you're really cut out for this line of work,” she whispered wickedly into his ear, her eyes betraying her gently teasing. “ Still, I suppose everything must be relatively serviceable, otherwise you wouldn't have gotten away with it for all this time, would you ?” she smirked.}

_{“ Uughh, please my head hurts enough as it is,” mumbled John from somewhere under his head which was currently threatening to bury itself completely in his chest. He managed to turn his head around enough to glance at her but there was something different about her appearance this time, she seemed more cloudy in substance – neither transparent nor clear. She was also being uncharacteristically quiet at the moment as if disturbed by some deep thought, “ Don't you think you'd be better off sitting in a different chair, like one with arms for instance !” she finally spoke, following up her point with a similar action of the finger aimed at the swivel chair. John grunted a term of agreement and stumbled/fell his way across the room towards it. He tried to carefully lower himself down into the seat with the use of the chair's arms, like a parallel bars gymnast, but was still too weak to support his own weight and ended up dropping the last few inches, slapping hard down on his pride. This caused the chair to tip back sharply sending his legs flying up in the air. “ There, you see ! You're already starting to look more animated !” said Cathy sauntering over to him. John flung his feet back to the floor resulting in his upper torso being catapulted up and forward, almost out of the chair, “ Aargh, is this supposed to be your idea of helping me....then DON'T !” he groaned from a bent doubled position. “ Excuse me ?” Cathy responded as she looked at him challengingly then placing her hands on her hips she held her head high in the air to complete a defiant pose. “ Don't you go blaming me, Mr. Det.Inspector Almighty ! All I did was make a perfectly simply suggestion - for your own benefit I hasten to add,” she remarked indignantly.” How was I to know that you'd suddenly inflict yourself with an uncoordinated attack !” she remarked indignantly, alluding to his over zealous leg reactions. Sighing to dispel her annoyance, Cathy changed the subject to something a little less confrontational,“ So, while we're on the subject of 'help', what's the name of your new little helper, then ?”}

_{“ Huh, oh..well, it's..er,” John stopped in his tracks, as a feeling of doubt started to take root that somewhere in between his lapses of consciousness, the personal and physical examinations and general small talk that certain basic formalities may have gone slightly awry – in particular general introductions and the exchanging of names.}

_{“ I DON'T BELIEVE IT ! You don't know it, do you ?” Cathy laughed at the realization. “Lord, things must be bad if you're letting yourself be treated by someone you're not even on LAST name terms with.” She moved in closer, gazing at him with the warm tenderness that he had missed so much about her. For a brief moment he thought she was extending a hand up to his head as if to caress and soothe it, the way she used to, but a change of mind must have taken place for she suddenly lowered it to point instead at a blank looking form laying atop a mess of other papers on the bureau next to him. “ Wait a moment, isn't that a prescription form there ?” John glanced down towards it, “Yes, I think so. What of it ?” he asked not able to make the necessary connection between the two subjects. “ You really must pay more attention, darling. The doctor's name, surgery address and such forth should be printed on the bottom of it,” she leaned over to study it more intently. “ Ah, there you are – Doctor Miller. M.D, Nightshade Cottage, Mistry, etc, etc and so on. Well that's one mystery solved, I say this detective work really is quite easy when you get into it, isn't it ?” John had drawn a deep breath to give his open and frank answer to this red flag question but was prevented from venting his opinion by the return of his host.}

_{The doctor pushed the door wide open with his shoulder, his hands preoccupied with the responsibility of conveying two bowl glasses filled with equal but generous doses of a dark brown liquid. “ Ah, Dr Miller, I presume,” John welcomed the doctor's arrival in equally good spirits. “ WHAT ?” snapped the doctor, unsure of what had just been said. “ Oh, never mind,” dismissed John as he now felt somewhat foolish about making light of his Samaritan's name. “ Ah, good, I see yer've made yer'self comfortable there,” remarked the doctor as he made his way gingerly over to him. “ Here get some of dis down yer, it might just help yer to tink a little less about a lot of the things on yer mind,” he offered one of the glasses up to John. “ Now, I'm not advocatin' this as a long term solution, you understand,” this piece of advice was followed by a course of self medication, liberally - twice. “ I know, alcohol isn't the answer to anything. It just numbs the feeling, that's all,” acknowledged John swilling his drink around in the glass before throwing it back in one. “ Well, there is dat, but I was talkin' about how hard it is to get yer hands on a drop of the good stuff around here.” The physician finished off his drink, “ Ah, that's better, so it is,” he claimed, smacking his lips in appreciation. Then relieving John of his glass he took the opportunity of casting a critical eye over him once more. “ Yer know I was wondering if you wouldn't mind stayin' here with me and the wife this evening. I mean what with yer bein' still too weak to travel, and the night almost upon us,” he voiced his concern as he looked back toward the window and the dying sunlight.}

_{“ You sound as if you're afraid of the dark or something,” replied John as he twisted around in the chair trying to catch sight of his wife, but she had disappeared into the night like the sun. His head started to feel woozy, which was hardly surprising as swivel chairs, head traumas and alcohol invariable result in an unsteady mind. “ Ah, away with yer, man. I'm not afraid of the dark. It's what's out there lurkin' in it that scares me, as it does a lot of people in these parts. And if yer had any sense then... ” the doctor stopped himself short, there was no point continuing any further as he noticed his house guest's limp body now slumped in the chair, his arms dangling lifelessly down on either side of him. He checked John's pulse to ensure there wasn't any irregularity to it,“Ah, the old hard stuff never fails, to be sure. Sleep long and hard there lad, and don't worry, the darkness will be there, waiting fer you, another day – it always does,” he said to himself and patted John reassuringly on the shoulder. “ Now how the deevil am I going to get you back onto dat couch by meself ?” he pondered.} 

_{© Michael Burford, 2018}

Midwinter Mystery - Chapter Twelve - The Car Chase Bit !

_{Midwinter Mystery – Chapter Twelve}

_{"Two Men, A Hearse and a Kind of a Car Chase"}

  _{For a long time there was only nothingness, a cold dark emptiness void of sentience, but then an indistinguishable sound, a murmur of hope, from an unknown realm pierced the barrier. A quiet voice calling out from beyond, growing steadily clearer and stronger, “ John, John, can you hear me ? Are you all right ?” It was a life line back to reality, from surely the one, the only person who could have reached him in such a place. “ Cathy.. is that you ?” he mumbled from his incoherent state. His full senses began to gradually return to him and he parted his glazed eyes open, their unfocused vision straining to block out the brilliant white background that was preventing him from identifying the features of his deceased wife, “ Am I... dead ? Is this heaven ?” he asked more out of curiosity than fear.}

_{"NAH, IT AIN'T HEAVEN, CHIEF ! IT'S MISTRY !” the voice suddenly changed in tone and gender and John became aware that his mystery companion and situation were still very much on the side of the living.}

_{"IT'S ME, GEORGE ! DON'T YER REMEMBER ?” proceeded the young lawman, overly loud and simplistically as in all things. “ Oh... yes I do... unfortunately !” John stirred, accepting George's unsolicited assistance in sitting up. “ Ugh, what happened ?” he groaned, the small exertion causing yet another shock wave of pain to momentarily incapacitate him, and give rise to the realization that his head had grown another hat size with the addition of an even larger contusion to it's recent collection. “ I dunno, Chief ! ” George answered earnestly as he knelt down behind John trying to make him as comfortable as possible propping John up against him, supporting his fallen comrade with one arm around his far shoulder and the other firmly grasping the nearest upper arm, and there they rested for a minute on the wet ground. “ I 'eard you shout out, and came over, but when I got there – you weren't ! Then I saw some footprints in the snow, so I followed 'em back 'ere to find you lying on the job as it were - spark out !” reported George. “ 'Say, p'haps you got walloped by this 'ere fallen branch ?” the young P.C twisted slightly backwards and picked up a sizeable branch that lay nearby . “ Blimey, it ain't 'alf a biggun', Chief ! ” he said weighing it in his hand, “ ya were lucky it didn't crack yer skull right open ! Specially if it fell from all the way up there !” the young verbose man cricked his neck attempting to look upwards.}

_{"Uhh, well it sure feels like it's been cracked open, ” John confirmed sharply, “ if that's any consolation to you !” His head pounded in agony as he leant forward while relieving George of his discovery, “ Huh, that isn't a branch - it's a small trunk in disguise !” he commented sceptically. “ But, I'd have to be pretty unlucky to be hit by this branch... while standing underneath THIS tree !” he followed, turning his head slightly and wincing in discomfort as he looked up at the lumbering giant towering above them. “ This branch is from an Ash tree, where as this tree ..” he gestured with wave of a hand to the one immediately above them, “.. is a mighty big Oak !” George stared back down at the misplaced bough,}

_{"Oh, I guess it couldn't have been that, then.” he said slightly disillusioned.}

_{"Hmmm, well let's not write it off just yet,” offered John examing the piece of wood more closely. “ See here, if you look carefully you can make out some dark hairs caught on it with traces of what looks like blood … fresh blood !”}

_{"Oh, yeah !” admitted George studying it closer and then winced slightly as he looked back at John. “ Err, you've got some..” he pointed a finger at his Chief's head and wiggled it about indicating an area above his eyes.}

_{"What ?” John pressed impatiently, he dabbed a hand lightly across his forehead and withdrew it to find that the fingers were now covered in a red sticky substance, from the thin stream of blood that trickled down his face. “ Ah, of course... blood. Does it look bad ?”}

_{"Well.. erm.. I'd.. probably see the doctor when we get back, if I was you,” advised George, “ jus' to be on the safe side, like.” John noted his companion's reluctance to look directly at the wound, and took from it the truth of the answer. One thing he knew for sure, he had to get moving again - soon.}

_{John tried to stand up on his own, but the effort was still too much for him, his legs faltered and he pitched forward. George made a swift interception, catching him in his arms, “ 'Ere, you'd better let me give you a hand there,” he offered kindly. With this support John made his way over to the broad Oak tree and rested against it, “ You were pretty lucky y'know, Chief ! Not with being slugged an' all that, but 'cos I was with ya !” he said somewhat pragmatically. “ I mean, there's no tellin' how long you could 'ave been left lying out 'ere... all alone, in the cold and dark. Why it just doesn't bare thinkin' about - anything might have 'appened to you ! ” he shook his head at the thought. “ ALL RIGHT, I GET THE PICTURE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH ! “ snapped John, reacting to his guardian's worrying thoughts. “ LORD, YOU'RE A CHEERY LITTLE... SOUL, AREN'T YOU ?” he concluded. He put one arm around the tree and gently lay his head back against it - experience had taught him that in situations like these it was best to remain as calm as possible, the slightest excitement or even the mildest of emotional outbursts could prove fatal – and closed his eyes for a moment's peace.}

_{“ So, if it didn't fall from this tree, how did it come to smack you around the 'ead then ?” George interrupted the interlude, his attention taunted by the offending timber.}

_{“ It had an accomplice !” John answered without opening his eyes.}

_{“ Wot, you mean somebody deliberately whacked you one with it ? Why ?”}

_{“ Too many footprints,” came John's cryptic reply, as he glanced down at the ground before them. “ It appears that there's been a lot of activity around here recently... one man... size 10 boots, I'd say... has been traipsing all over the place, recently ” he shared the deduction while still draped around the tree, holding firmly onto it for stability, while struggling to form his words and thoughts. “ My guess is that they belong to your 'Mad Monk' chap, and he must have lost something on the night of the accident, something important to him, something he had to retrieve.”}

_{“Strewth ! How'd you come to that ?” George marveled, scratching his thick head of black hair as if trying to stimulate his perplexed brain cells.}

_{“ BECAUSE... I FOUND IT ! WELL, I SAW IT, ANYWAY ! I guess my calling out to you must have alerted it's owner of the fact and... and he decided to take matters into his own hands – literally – to stop me.”}

_{“ So, what was it then, this thing you found ?” George's curiosity fit to bursting.}

_{“ A gun,” came the deathly reply.}

_{“ A GUN ! Are you sure ?” George challenged in surprise.}

_{“ Believe me, I've been on the wrong end of them enough times to know what a gun looks like, ” came the seasoned verification. “ I'd say it was revolver, possibly a Webley .32 caliber, by the look of the barrel I saw sticking out of he snow.” John frowned trying to replay the picture in his mind.}

_{“ Blimey, a monk with a gun, eh !” George remarked in surprise and astonishment. And then after a short pause, “ Why would a ghost need a gun ?”}

_{“ Why does anyone 'need' a gun ? To stop or kill something, someone.” John answered thoughtfully. “ It's too bad you didn't see anything... “ he stopped suddenly in mid-assumption. “ Wait, DID you see anyone else around here ?”}

_{“ Nah, no one... well, 'cept for some old tramp on a push bike that's all.”}

_{John straightened up and pushed himself away from the mighty oak, “ A tramp ! What was he doing ?”}

_{“ Nothing, he jus' came out the woods, jumped on his bike and rode off down the road.”}

_{“ Didn't you try to stop him ?” questioned John,}

_{“ No, why should I have ? He hadn't done anythin' wrong, ” George defended his position. “ I thought you were jus' callin' me over to show me something, how was I to know you'd got yourself into trouble.”}

_{“ I DIDN'T GET MYSELF INTO TROUBLE, I WAS ATTACKED FROM BEHIND !” John clarified irritatedly. “ All right, let's just put it down hindsight for now, shall we ?” John conceded. “ Now, what about this fellow, you say he was on a bicycle, right ? Well, there's a chance then that he hasn't got too far away, in which case we may still catch up with him, if we get moving fast.”}

_{“ Wot for ?” questioned George still unsure of this course of action.}

_{“ Oh, I always try to introduce myself to the local down-and-outs in my district... SO I CAN ARREST HIM OF COURSE !” John countered sarcastically venting his growing frustration on the young constable. There was a moment of silence between the two, both taking stock of their situation, then George added, “ On what charge ?” John breathed in deeply, an act that caused him an unexpected amount of pain with very little relief, before replying, “ How about; Removing evidence, fleeing the scene of a crime and.. oh yes, assaulting a police officer in his duties – namely, ME ! Is that enough, or would you like more ? ” George nodded slightly as he mulled over the facts, “ Yeah I guess. So you really think he was the one who clobbered you then ?”}

_{“ Well, it's between him or the tree, and I don't particularly feel like bringing that in for questioning right now. No, the tramp is our man, I'm sure of it ! But, if bt some chance he turns out not to be, then he may still be able to help us with our enquiries. He may have seen someone or something himself,” said John putting his left arm over George's shoulder for support, preparing to leave the sanctuary of the old oak tree behind him. “ Come on, let's get back to the..” he hesitated momentarily before begrudgingly using the word, “..car !” George slid his arm around John's waist and settled into the burden of escorting him across the wintry wasteland.}

_{“ Did you see which way he went, or was he moving too fast for you ?”}

_{“ He took off towards Salem's stream, in a fair hurry now you mention it all,” revealed George as he clasped John's free hand as it dangled from his shoulder.}

_{The two men braced themselves in solidarity, gazing over the sea of snow that lay between them and their objective. Normally such a short trek across an icy white surface wouldn't have been cause for concern – for either of them - but given it's hidden depths, the growing waves of unfriendliness from the biting wind and John's sinking state of consciousness it had suddenly become a far more serious undertaking. George stepped up to his responsibility as a human crutch, wrestling with his chief's semi-deadweight whilst trying to stay on his own two feet. John found the venture equally testing, desperately fighting a one man battle against his senses, as he came under heavy assault from dizzy spells, light-headiness and blurred vision. His heart rate quickened and a streaming cloud of warm breath flowed from him like an industrial chimney - to be borne aloft by the chilling breeze. They trudged carefully through the arctic covering, their limbs entwined with each other, moving in a cumbersome three-legged race manner. An occasional misplaced step would see them dropping down into a deeper vein of the white stuff – almost up to their knees at one point – or narrowing avoiding tripping over a fallen log.}

_{They eventually staggered out onto the roadside, the bottom of their trousers sodden with melted snow residue. John still maintained a firm grasp on his young rescuer whether out of necessity or simply because he was unable to relinquish his hold - was hard to say. “Right, let's get a move on,” said John, unable to feel his feet, or little else, in the penetrating glacial climate – although ironically it was probably this very condition that was helping him to stave off from passing out. Upon reaching the motor, John made his way round to his side of the car and eased himself in – thankful for the rest – while George busied himself with starting the engine. “ All right, 'ere we go again. Are you you ready ? ” George looked apprehensively over at John as he turned the motor over.}

_{“ Not really, but I don't have much choice in the matter, we must find that man... he's the only lead we have right now !” he answered sincerely and slightly desperate.}

_{With a cough, a splutter and a explosive back fire of it's exhaust the old hearse blasted into life and pulled jerkily away. A series of lurches followed as it became accustomed to moving again, which George put down to as a 'warming up' process, while John on the other hand considered it more a ' trial run' of which both parties – driver and vehicle – were guilty as charged. Not surprisingly the drive was neither enjoyable nor expeditious, and the continuing absence of anything to hold onto was only contributing to John's mounting anxiety and diminishing cognizance.}

_{All three, the car, the driver and the reluctant passenger doggedly pursued the spirit of the road – if not it's parameters – jostling, bouncing and crashing along in a chaotic manner. Down a shallow hill, up the other side and round a bend they went, all without hide nor hair of their quarry, Then finally, a sighting of the lone cyclist – between the trees - peddling like fury, heading in the opposite way on a parallel path, “ That's him, that's the fellah !” cried George in excitement. “ He must have doubled back at the ' Devil's Crossroads', it's about quarter of a mile or so a head of us !”}

_{“ We haven't got time for that, cut across the first clearing you see, that should close the gap up between us,” directed John assuredly.}

_{“ Are you sure ? It ain't gonna be easy y'know, and I'm not sure if Hettie's can manage it either. She's taken quite a hammering 'erself recently, y'know !”}

_{“ That makes two of us... wait... who the hell's, Hettie ?” John asked, not entirely sure if he had misheard or just not been informed of a possible third party.}

_{“ Oh, Hettie, it's what we call her,” George clarified, patting the steering wheel.}

_{“ You named your car 'Hettie', why ?” John pressed painfully in disbelief.}

_{“ Well her full name is 'Henrietta', but we call her 'Hettie' for short. And we didn't name her, the previous owner did !”}

_{“ You mean the undertaker did. He named his hearse 'Henrietta'...” John concluded slowly, “.. of course ! I should've known better than to ask.” He leant forward, arms held straight out in front of him locked tight as he grimly grasped the dashboard, “ Look, just do what I tell for now ! And I'll take full responsibility for any damage to 'Hettie'... and you, okay ?” George worryingly obliged, “ Right yer are, you're the boss !” he blurted, changing his foot to the brake, stamping hard on the clutch and grinding the gear stick through it's paces, sending the car sharply on a new heading.}

_{The unscheduled detour hadn't progressed very far before John started to regret his decision, although not a fighter his body was already exhibiting all the external signs of an overly abused punchbag that had just gone twelve rounds with a prizefighter, and the only bell ringing he could hear was the one in his head. He was tossed around the cab like a rag doll, not having the benefit being sat behind a large steering wheel, like his driver. But even that didn't fully protect George from the internal maelstrom either, as he ricocheted in an eternal triangle between the back of his seat, the wheel, and the driver's door. The car barely avoided hitting the variety of natural obstacles that sprang up in front of them, but did manage to to successfully locate the hardest and most demanding route through the wooded area. The slapdash course – dictated more by their general size, weight and speed than any geological factors – bound 'Hettie' to the continual highs and lows of the terrain, rising and falling, listing and rolling her way over a variety of exposed roots and odd rocks, stretching it's structural capacity to the limit. George was also affected by this irregular motion, “ Ooooh, I don't feel so good,” he groaned, “ I think I've got seasickness or something !”}

_{“ Hmm, it's hardly a joy ride for me either !” confessed John. “ Look, just get us back to the road tas fast way possible. There's no point chasing anyone if neither of us are fit enough to do anything with them, when their caught.”}

_{“ Got'cha, I think the road passes close to that next rise,” George half pointed towards a small slope that was to the left of them, just high enough to obscure whatever was waiting on the over side. “ Well don't wait for my permission, DO IT !” John governed curtly his nerves jangling under the strain of trying to stop himself from passing out. George rammed the gear stick into a lower gear and pressed hard on the accelerator sending the vintage vehicle flying up the incline like a rocket blasting off from it's gantry – except for the lack of speed, power and thrust. They soared momentarily in the air like a... clapped out old hearse loaded up with half a ton of King Edwards, before crashing noisily back down to earth and ploughing their way through the final wall of vegetation back onto the road. Leaving a stream of discarded undergrowth and a shower of sparks in their wake.}

_{“ Lumme, that must be the exhaust pipe ! I hope we don't lose it - again !” George sounded genuinely concerned, straining to look out the wing mirror for any possible collateral damage to 'Hettie' that might have been left on the road behind them.}

_{“ I wish you wouldn't say things like that in front of me – it doesn't particularly inspire confidence,” John said wearily, applying steady pressure to a throbbing vein over his temple. “ Sorry, Chief, I'm sure everything's o.k. ! She's a tough old bird really, they don't make 'em like this anymore, y'know !” stated George almost proud of the out of date vehicle. “ A fact we're all truly grateful for, I'm sure,” retorted John.}

_{“ Now where's that damn tramp ?” pressed John, struggling to focus his growing double vision. “ We should be able to see him soon I reckon, there's a pretty straight stretch of road comin' up after this next bend !” reassured George, frantically jiggling and jerking the gear stick around until finding it's desired position. They took the curve wide and on two wheels, sparks still trailing behind them. John had taken up residence in the car's footwell, bracing himself with his back to the leather seat, partly out of respect for the driver's competency but more as a desperate attempt to conserve whatever strength he had left. “ HEY, THERE HE IS !” blurted George excitedly. “ WHERE ?” asked John rising from the depths, his head just managing to peer out the windscreen. “ Right there !” George responded accompanied by a nod of the head as if to accentuate the pedaling cyclist's position. “ 'Ere look at his little legs move, they're going like the clappers !” he observed in admiration.}

_{“ I don't care if he's competing for the Tour de bloody France, get after him !” ordered John brusquely, driven by the deeply growing fear that his time was running out.}

_{They rolled along in pursuit but failed to make much impact to the distance between them. “ I don't believe this ! How can that two wheeled cyclist be faster than our four wheeled motor vehicle ? This has to be the most 'pedestrian' car chase I've ever been involved in !” sighed John gently shaking his head while subsiding back down to the floor.}

_{“ I'm going as fast as I can, Chief ! But we're going uphill and don't forget we're still carting a load of spuds in the back !” reminded George.}

_{“ DON'T I KNOW IT !” John's blood pressure started to rise, a condition not conducive to his current state of health.}

_{“ Hey, the road's starting to level off, we should be able pick some speed up now,” George offered a glimmer of hope. “ ABOUT TIME ! Now put your foot down and get this infernal machine moving once and for all !” asserted John unable to hide his impatience anymore. George performed open gear surgery - the patient rejecting any general clutch relief – while accompanied by the orchestral strains of grinding gears, before managing to slam it into third. The car leaped into life, moving from a steady trot, to a canter and then finally breaking out into full gallop.}

_{Meanwhile, the cyclist becoming aware of the activity behind him set to putting his own foot down, and began cycling like some possessed madman towards a small narrow hump back bridge. “BLAST IT ! We'll never make it over that, not in this anyway. He's as good as gone already ! ” John clenched his teeth in annoyance, slumping back down on the seat. “ You may as well slow down, there's no point beating ourselves up about it any further,” he concluded, and started to prepare himself for the long journey home. But then he realised that not only were they not slowing down but were in fact hurtling even faster towards the restricted opening of the stony bridge, he leant nearer to his driver incase he hadn't heard him and repeated, “ I SAID YOU CAN SLOW DOWN NOW !”}

_{The look of concentration on George's face was seismic and he erupted without provocation, “ I'M TRYING, BUT THE GEARSTICK IS JAMMED SOLID ! I TOLD YER 'HETTIE' COULDN'T TAKE ALL THAT BUMPIN' AROUND !”}

_{“ Oh, 'all the bumping around', yeah sure that must be it,” John repeated skeptically, suspecting it was more down to driver abuse. “ Well, just hit the brakes, then !” he calmly advised. “ I CAN'T.... WE DON'T HAVE ANY !” George replied, a tinge of hysteria in his voice. “ WHAT !” John startled turning on his constable for further corroboration, while aware of the rapidly approaching impediment in their path. “ WHAT DO YOU ' WE DON'T HAVE ANY' ?”}

_{“ THEY'RE AT THE GARAGE BEING FIXED ! “ came the unwanted answer from the unhelpful driver. John's mind raced wildly for any other scenarios, “ RIGHT, WELL CUT THE ENGINE, THEN ! AND GENTLY APPLY THE HANDBRAKE UNTIL WE START TO SLOW DOWN !” George sat at the wheel nodding his head in silent agreement, his face wearing a pained expression then began to shake his head,}

_{“ IT'S NO USE, THAT WON'T WORK EITHER... I CAN'T REACH THE HANDBRAKE !” he cried.}

_{“ WHY NOT ?” John glanced down in search for it, “ WHERE THE HELL IS IT ?” his manner now infected by the same form of desperation. “ I THINK.... YOU'RE SITTING ON IT !” screamed George, wiping the sweat away from his eyes with the back of a hand. “ It.. just came away in my hand the other night, and I haven't had time to sort it out yet !” he followed weakly, knowing that there were going to be repercussions for this failing. “ Mebbe, if I cut the engine we might slow down enough to scrap through it ?”}

_{“ NO, there's too much going against us now, like momentum and a dirty big pile of spuds ! And that small bridge will never be able take all our weight, ” John replied morosely, his gaze drawn to the road ahead as they hopelessly followed the persistent pedaller into the claustrophobically channelled hedged road.}

_{“ You know if we survive this lot I'm going to kill you ! Kill you then fire you, is that clear ?” informed John calmly accepting that the end was nigh for them as they entered the run up to the small structure.}

_{There was no time for anymore recriminations or fears as George broke, “ HEY LOOK, THERE'S A BREAK IN THE HEDGE OVER THERE, I'M SURE OF IT !” then - as per his usual modus operanti - he suddenly threw the car at the suspect hole with full zeal.}

_{“ WAIT, THAT'S NOT AN OPENING ! IT'S A WOODEN...” John's cries were cut short as an ear-splitting cracking sound preceded a jarring crash and a wave of disintegrated timbers and pieces of splinters cascaded over the car's bonnet and windscreen. George switched the wiper on to remove most of them from his field of vision while steadfastly maintaining his iron grip and set course.}

_{“ GATE ! A BLOODY CLOSED 5 BAR WOODEN GATE !” John shouted incredulously, then fell strangely silent. From there on in they were in the hands of speed, trajectory and providence as they hurdled their way across a barren field, fortunately empty of everything except a solitary haystack – which they immediately ran into. For a while only the sound of it's engine running over gave any notice of their existence, as they lay completely interned in the deep pile of dry straw. Slowly, George stirred from being slumped over the wheel and collapsed back into his seat, “ Uhhh, wot were you saying, Chief ?” he finally asked. When no answer was forthcoming he called out, “Chief... CHIEF ARE YOU ALL RIGHT ?” he squinted into the darkness, “ CHIEF !” he called again only with more concern, but still no reply came back. After a while George was able to pierce the darkness and make out the corner of the cab where John was sat to discover that - he had vanished !}

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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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