Mysterious Tales Read online

  Mysterious Tales

  Michael White

  (Copyright © 2014)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. (Especially the dead ones)

  By The Same Author

  Paul McCartney’s Coat and Other Stories

  The Greatest Virus of Them All

  Here Be Dragons

  Over the Hills and Far Away

  Liverpool

  An Unremarkable Man

  The Waiting Room

  Six of the Best

  Overboard!

  (Autumn 2014)

  About the Author.

  (Or... “It’s all about me.”)

  Ex-drummer, ex-software author and ex-flares wearer Michael White was born and lives in the north-west of England. In a previous life he was the author of many text adventure games that were popular in the early 1980’s. Realising that the creation of these games was in itself a form of writing, he has since made the move into self-publishing, resulting in many short stories and novellas. Covering an eclectic range of subjects the stories fall increasingly into that “difficult to categorise” genre, causing on-going headaches for the marketing department of his one man publishing company, Eighth Day Publishing.

  Having accidentally sacked his marketing director (himself) three times in the last two years, he has now retired to a nice comfortable room where, if he behaves himself, they leave him to write in peace.

  In his spare time (!) Michael likes to listen to all kinds of music, and is a big fan of Steven Moffat, whether he likes it or not.

  Michael is currently working on several new projects and can be contacted on the links below.

  Website: www.mikewhiteauthor.wordpress.com

  Email: [email protected]

  Twitter: @mikewhiteauthor

  Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B006Y7JHCK

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/mikewhiteauthor

  Contents

  An Unremarkable Man

  The Tree That Sang

  The cat is back!

  The History Detectives

  "Nec Aspera Terrent"

  The Deadliest Virus of All

  An Unremarkable Man

  On a petrichorian morning in May we gathered in the old church yard, the air still but slowly warming as the sun rose higher towards noon, the breeze redolent of rain yet filled with a promise of warmth yet to come. The small number of people gathered about the open grave listened intently as the tall man dressed entirely in the darkest of black, a small trilby balanced precariously on his head drew his eulogy to a close.

  “Though this you could say of him. Ron was as straight as a die - old fashioned perhaps; some would say old school. But the heart of the matter, and if he were here with us now other than just in spirit, I think he would agree, is the fact that he was to all who knew him an unremarkable man. He never saw a ghost, found treasure buried in the darker wind swept places of the world, nor did he ever own a cat that talked, nor indeed did he have anything remarkable about him at all. That this was the case was his joy, and his secret too. In truth the thing that defined him most in my and many other people’s eyes was that he had no secret. An unremarkable man, that was Ron. Yet he was loved, and will be missed. Perhaps sometimes that is enough.”

  The small group of people nodded as the tall man finished his speech, and I thought to myself how unusual the things were that the man had said. I touched the small old coin in my pocket almost subconsciously and smiled, for I knew that some of those things were simply not true. I forced myself back to the present and brought back into focus the soil cast on the coffin, the vicar leading away across the graveyard as I stood red rose in hand beside the grave with a woman who I had met barely an hour before who may - or may not - have been Ron’s wife. There would be no cold wind this day; no more rain. Slowly the group departed from the open grave, the grave diggers still out of sight but presumably somewhere near to hand, slowly encroaching on the hole in the ground, no doubt eager to commence filling it in.

  “Tsk.” muttered the tall woman beside me. She held on to my arm tightly, and I looked back to her, almost as if waiting for permission to cast the rose into the grave.

  “An unremarkable man.” she muttered, her tone more of irritation than anything. I took a second to examine her once again. The first time I had seen her was when she arrived at the church in a car that looked as if it was from another age. The long black bonnet of the four door Rover fourteen (or so it said on the large, silver polished grill plate) had swung into the churchyard in an almost movie star manner, and once it had pulled to a stop a small shabbily dressed man had jumped out of the driving seat and opened the door for the lady who now stood beside me, holding on to my arm. I thought I saw a tear roll slowly down her cheek but I could not be sure. The woman, who had introduced herself as, “Tish” was old for certain, but certainly not as old as Ron had been. She was still beautiful, her long dark hair only showing slight signs of grey. She was tall, too. Much taller than myself. I would say she was probably five foot ten or thereabouts, and I glanced at her shoes once again, and was still surprised to see that they were quite flat. So she was naturally tall then. The other remarkable thing about her was that she did not seem to be wearing any makeup at all. Yet there was a kind of English Rose quality about her. Dark red, full lips, a slightly upturned nose; large blue eyes. I thought that when she was younger she must have been quite beautiful; and I stopped in my thoughts, realising she still was. The problem I had reconciling mostly was the possibility that she was Ron’s wife, for if that was the case then she was obviously much younger than him. That and the fact that I had in all the years I had known Ron never met her at all, though Ron had talked about her all the time.

  Tish caught me looking at her and she nodded to me just the once, a slight smile playing across her lips. I turned my attention back to the large hole in the ground and cast the single rose into the grave. It seemed to fall slowly and as it hit the coffin the blood red petals contrasted starkly against the handfuls of soil already cast by the thin group of mourners moments before. Several petals fell from the flower as it hit the lid of the coffin and spilled across its surface like small drops of blood. The older woman made no sound beside me as we waited; remembering. Perhaps she had much more of Ron to remember than I, for the store of recollections I had of the sweet old man were not many, but they were nevertheless cherished. The thing I remembered most of all about him at that moment in time was how his eyes used to sparkle. It was almost a cross between laughter and a slight edge of mischief playing across his face. It could do nothing else than endear you to him no matter how lost he seemed. As we stood in silence beside the grave I tried hard to recall the first time I had met him. Then it all came back, and I smiled as I remembered.

  ***

  “This is Ron.” said the matron stiffly as I was led into the small room. I ignored the furnishing for now, seeking to make eye contact with my new patient. I tested people’s hearing for a living, mostly old people, and if they were hard of hearing, or more frequently than not, stone deaf, eye contact was important, for it was in the first few moments that trust could be established. Add to that the fact that most of my patients would be indulging in a bit of hard learned amateur lip reading, then you begin to understand the importance of catching and maintaining eye contact the first time I met anyone new.

  Ron sat in a small wooden chair beside his bed, a warm dressing gown wrapped about him, a thick blanket on his knee. He looked shrunken almost, but his eyes were a brilliant blue, and before he sa
id a word he caught my look and held it, a slight smile playing across his face. He slowly raised his hand to mine and we shook formally.

  “Thank you for coming.” he said, and his voice was reedy, but hinted at a deeper tone that he must have once had. “I’m told you have come to test my hearing.” he said, releasing my hand. “I’m sure there is no need.” he added, smiling. “I can hear perfectly.” The matron sniffed loudly beside me, and Ron averted his gaze slightly, almost as if irritated before turning his eyes back on me. I registered the fact that he had no problem hearing that, and so determined to do a little light research myself. I half turned away from Ron and placed my heavy case containing all my equipment I required to test for hearing loss on the thickly carpeted floor. With my back now to Ron I said,

  “I’ll just ask a few questions and we’ll go from there.” and then turned back to face him. Ron sat still looking at me. It was a frequent deception I had to employ, I’m afraid. He obviously had not heard a word I had said, and so it gave me a starting point. At least I wasn’t wasting my time. The matron excused herself and left me to it. I repeated my introduction and Ron nodded, watching intently as I unpacked my equipment and set it up. I was plugging in the headphones prior to the test whilst Ron watched me, seeming mesmerised by the computer and several other pieces of equipment I had to use.

  “Wonderful what they can do these days.” he sighed, and I smiled at him. He was one of what I thought of as the better patients. In fact he looked like a sweet little old man, and you know, sometimes you wanted to take them home with you. There were plenty that you didn’t, of course, but it looked as if Ron was one of the nicer ones. It certainly made my job much more pleasant when that was the case.

  “I never quite got the hang of technology.” he sighed to himself.

  “What did you used to do, Ron?” I asked. He smiled slightly, as if remembering.

  “This and that.” he said, lost in his thoughts. It was an unusual reaction. Normally at this point family pictures may be referred to, an army history discussed. Ron just sat smiling.

  “Nothing remarkable.” he mumbled, and that was that. Suddenly a thought occurred to him and he leaned in closer towards me.

  “Have you seen Tish?” he asked, and then winked. I almost laughed at the somewhat theatrical wink, but managed somehow to keep a straight face.

  “I’m sorry Ron, I haven’t. Who is Tish, by the way?” The old man seemed disappointed by my answer and sighed deeply.

  “Tish is my wife.” he sighed once again, and his eyes seemed to glaze over. “She never comes to visit. Haven’t seen sight nor sound of her for years.” A sad smile was my only defence to what was obviously the old man's confusion. We had to move on.

  “Let’s start the test, shall we?” I asked, and Ron nodded weakly, obviously still half lost in his memories. So we began. Most of the test involves the patient responding to sound played through a headset from a box attached to my laptop, which was by now unpacked and ready to go. The response to the sounds, or indeed the lack of response would eventually form a graph or “snapshot” of how severe the patients hearing loss was. As Ron and I carried out the test it eventually became apparent that Ron’s left ear was fine, and although his right ear was not too bad, it would definitely improve his hearing if a hearing aid was prescribed. I concluded therefore that he was not as deaf as I had previously thought and told him the results. Like most (it has to be said) male patients the thought of wearing an aid caused a frown to play on Ron’s face but he took the news well and I advised him that I would return in two weeks to fit one.

  “That’s good.” smiled Ron as I informed him of my return. “I’ll make sure that we have some tea.” He stopped and stared into space as if making an entry in some mental diary he possessed. “I shall make sure that we have some cake about the place too.” I shook his hand formally and he smiled as I did so, before being led back into the car park by the now returned matron who seemed to be hovering in the hallway. I informed her of the time of my return in two weeks and drove off down the long drive and back into the traffic.

  ***

  Time passed quickly and before I knew it was time to return to the nursing home and fit Ron’s hearing aid. This was just one of five such visits I had that day, but I had very carefully planned it to be the last one on my schedule. Ron had been such a sweet gentle man that it seemed to me that it was a good way to end the day with an appointment with his visit. It was just before three o’clock when I eventually turned off the main road and entered the long drive to the residential home where I was to fit Ron’s hearing aid. The day had been as mixed as usual, and had begun badly with my first customer complaining and generally dwelling on objections to her hearing aid that were all about something or nothing, but as per usual I had carried on and so the day progressed. I unpacked my equipment from the car and reporting to reception I was escorted to Ron’s room with all due haste.

  Ron was once again sitting beside his bed, but this time on the other side of it, half turned towards the window looking out across the grounds of the home as I arrived. He didn’t seem to notice me at first as he continued to stare across the fields and lawns below us, sunlight streaming across the woods far in the distance. I stole the chance to examine him a little more closely. His short grey hair was cropped, but hinted of a much longer head of hair in his day. His face was wrinkled of course, but mostly around his eyes, or the one I could see from where I stood regarding him anyway. It reminded me of laughter lines. He had a strong, well defined face; almost noble.

  “It is a beautiful day, is it not?” He suddenly asked, startling me just a little, for I was sure he did not know that I was there. He turned to face the matron just as she disappeared into the corridor to leave me to it. He smiled broadly and waved his arm to a small table off to one side. “We have tea.” he smiled, and I smiled back too. “And cake.” he finished, indicating two small slices of delicate sponge cake placed on two small plates on the table.

  “You’ll be spoiling me, Ron.” I said as I began to unpack the hearing aid I had for him. For the next half hour or so I patiently explained how to wear the aid, how to clean it, replace the batteries, so on and so forth. Ron was a keen and avid learner, and he listened carefully as I explained each step. The first time I place the hearing aid on a patient I do it myself, so I can assess whether I was correct in my diagnosis, and therefore check its performance. Is it too loud? Too “tinny”? However as I leaned in closer to fit it, Ron gently took it from me and placed it in his ear himself.

  “Best I learn how to do it for myself, my dear.” he smiled, and taking it from me he placed it in his ear perfectly. I was most impressed! “There.” he said, smiling. “Not too difficult at all.” He stopped, and to my surprise stood from his chair and leaned out of the window. “Ah.” he said. “The bird song is much clearer now.” He paused, and I thought just for a moment I could see his eyes misting over a little. “Thank you.” he said formally, turning his attention back to me as the moment passed. For the next few minutes I continued with the fitting but eventually we were done and so we could indulge ourselves with the tea and cake.

  “This cake is delicious.” I said in a most unladylike fashion through a mouth full of crumbs. Ron laughed and took a bit of his. “It is rather good.” he said, reaching for his cup. “A special recipe, I believe.” he finished, placing his plate back on the table. Eventually both the cake, the tea and the fitting were finished and I made to depart. Ron took his seat by the window once again, and having packed up my equipment I made to leave.

  “I’ll be back in two weeks for a follow up visit to ensure the aid is working as it should.” I informed Ron, and his face lit up a little at the promise of another visit.

  “Thank you.” he said. “I shall look forward to it. Perhaps if the weather is as good as today you could accompany me in a walk around the grounds?” He tapped the ear the aid was fitted to, “Give this a bit of a work-out, as it were.”

  “I’
d like that.” I smiled, and I meant it, and turned to go.

  “If you see Tish tell her I miss her.” called Ron as he turned to stare out of the window, his back to me once again. I felt sad he missed his wife so, and I had considered asking matron about her, but it was none of my business really, and I had to be careful not to appear to intrude.

  “I will.” I said, and he sighed deeply.

  “She never visits.” he whispered sadly.

  “Never?” I asked politely.

  “Only in my dreams.” he said, turning to face me once again, a broad smile now playing across his face. “Only in my dreams.” he repeated, and turned back to the window and was soon lost in the sunlight, the fields, and woods once again. Feeling choked I left him to his memories.

  ***

  The weeks passed quickly and before I knew it was time to visit Ron once again. As before I had left his visit to the last of the day, but as my previous visit had cancelled I was a little earlier than before, and it was just after two o’clock as I turned into the drive of the home. It was a beautiful day once again, a bright blue sky completely empty of clouds filling the sky. Upon entering reception I was surprised this time to be led not up to Ron’s room but across a large common room and through a wide set of patio doors onto a small terrace, Several tables were placed here, at one of which sat Ron, a wide panama hat covering his head. A dark ebony walking stick sat propped against the table.

  “Good afternoon.” he said as he noticed me approaching, and he stood and raised his hat to me as I sat down, and then lowered himself back into his chair.