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Post by malcolm on Jun 16, 2012 2:11:37 GMT -5
This is the beginning of my version of what could have happened next:
It's a lovely day tomorrow, Tomorrow is a lovely day, Come and feast your tear-dimmed eyes On tomorrow's clear blue skies,
If today your heart is weary, If every little thing looks gray, Just forget your troubles and learn to say, Tomorrow is a lovely day.
Scene: The Flat in Mayfair.
Ron is sitting on the couch, muttering away, with all kinds of explosive remarks.
”You old Devil, and I think I am not adrift in attaching that alarming but fully understandable descriptive appellation on an individual who in these advanced days of the 21st century will have lived two lives of some considerable years which when totalled could possibly be an advance on Methuselah’s scoreboard and successfully, albeit wilfully, engaged in a liaison with more than one gorgeous partner at what could in certain circumstances be regarded as the same time if we regard time as not being past present and future but a stationery point in a single time continuum.’
The focus of his attention was directed at a photo album which lay open on the coffee table before him. He was so engrossed that he hadn’t noticed the door behind him opening slowly and silently.
Yvonne knocks on the door, and stands waiting in the entrance. Although she is obviously aware that Ron has heard, she still sings out,
“Knock Knock”
The dark head just visible above the back of the couch stiffens and straightens up, though refrains from turning round as he acknowledges his visitor whom he knows even in those two words, to be Yvonne.
“Who’s There?”
Yvonne is equally aware that Ron knows it is she who has just turned up on his doorstep, but before she can point out that the door was open, he continued the chorus with a cheery,
“Could this be love that’s calling? The Door is always open Wide.”
“In Your Dreams, Slouch Head”, came Yvonne’s retort readily insulting at first but then more softly as she simpered,
“I need to talk to you Ron. It seems that there isn’t another soul who wouldn’t call for some doctors in white coats with tranquilisers at the ready, were I to confide in them how I’ve lost Gary forever.
She paused before adding with a shy pout, as Ron rose at last to invite her in.
“Well I suppose you did tell us the truth that time.............. But you being you, Ron, it had all the marks of a wind up.
Yvonne pondered for a moment or two and then sheepishly said,
“But it wasn’t was it?”
Ron screwed his mouth up as thoughtful as ever, and ignoring the question, decided to finish the chorus in his inimitable fashion,
“I suppose we could say ‘The night is falling’, so ‘Take off your coat and come inside’.
Thereupon Yvonne stomped round the couch, to face Ron and then giving him a determined push in the chest so that he fell back to sit once more, looking up at the stringent eyes that stared him down and dared him to come up with more light-hearted ripostes at a moment when she was looking for some comfort from a man who after all had been a very close friend of her time wandering husband.
“Hang on there”, Ron protested, “I might just have the right medicine for you, assuming that any object of a nostalgic nature fully substantial in invoking some recall of a long past era is just as capable of settling a stressful situation initially caused by the absence of someone or for that matter something dear to one’s soul as is the more conventional type of anti-depressant that is more usually associated with a visit to a general practitioner who is cognisant with the medical history of the supplicant.”
“You can cut the Liverpool Blarney, Ron, though I’m doubtful whether your own grandfather would have the foggiest idea what you are blathering on about.” Yvonne’s ire was rising and it almost had her turning on her heels and marching out again. However, she stood her ground.
“Can’t you ever be straight to the point without taking us on a trip round the mulberry bush of your convoluted mind?”
“Alright, and just because you are missing Gary as much as I am, I’ll present my prescription in pictorial terms.” Ron patted the cushion beside him as he invited Yvonne to sit down. As he did so he leaned forward and laid his other hand on the rather large album that lay closed on the coffee table.
“Before I open this substitute doorway into the World of Yesterday....” He paused as he saw that Yvonne’s eyes were tightening up again with a hint of more displeasure, but went on, “....as I was about to say, we have here an instrument laden with recall capabilities....”
This time Ron thought that she might land him the slap previously promised to Gary should Yvonne be able to see him again, and so he decided quickly that the glare he was receiving was a warning not to be ignored.
Clearing his throat with a succession of humphs grunts and er..ums, Ron rolled his eyes, and then shifted slightly to one side to allow more room for Yvonne whose curiosity was aiding her put aside the aggravation she felt towards Ron even at the best of times.
“We have here, a photo album”, he began with a note of authority.
“I can see that you Oaf. I certainly did not come here to see you showing off your conquests or, what you got up to with Flic”. A shudder ran through Yvonne’s frame at the thought of it.
“Yuck,” she uttered as she hunched her shoulders.
“Oh, but, it isn’t anything of mine,” Yvonne, “though now that you mention it I did sequester a few items in the expectation of prolonging the memory of some of our more intimate moments”.
Ron had no intention of giving voice to his thoughts which as Gary had discovered centred around Flic’s knickers. It was too late. Yvonne’s face was looking livid. Nevertheless he managed to defuse the situation, by quickly reaching out and flicking the album open to the first page, where on a large portrait of Gary on his own smiled out. Yvonne was struck with emotion and the first tear rolled from an eye.
“Oh Gary” It was all she could say so moved was she with an immense mix of sorrow and yet happiness for what they had shared, yet tinged with the anger that had been uppermost when Ron had first told her all about his other life.
Then turning meekly to Ron she confided, “I know, I should have got used to missing Gary from all those hours and even days when he disappeared with not a word.” Yvonne smothered a sob as she asked him, “Will this awful sadness ever go away, Ron? I can’t sleep and he is in my mind every second. I keep seeing him in his loud tops as if he is there, going about our apartment and lounging uselessly with the TV remote or glued to those silly books about the Blitz.”
No sooner had that forbidden word crossed her lips than she was mad again, “I’ll never forgive him for wasting all that money on those books, you know, Ron.”
Ron knew just when to stop being loquacious and jovial. Now he was soothing as he reminded her that, “They might have saved lives, you know, Yvonne, just knowing in advance where the bombs would fall. Remember too that that was five years ago and just look at how you’ve recovered and made not just a name for yourself but quite a fortune.”
At this thought, he had the hint of a smile which Yvonne picked up on immediately. “Forget it Ron, I’ve already helped you out with the shop, expanding it into what we both know has become quite a worthwhile antique business and I might say with something of an Eighties antique running it.” Then looking back at the album she asked him, “You haven’t told me yet, where you found this”.
“Ah yes,” Ron acknowledged, “It was in the most unlikely of hiding places. And there’s more, but you haven’t looked through this one yet. Come to that, nor have I, for I only found them this morning.”
Yvonne couldn’t resist butting in, “If it was most unlikely, then you would be the last one to find it, Ron.” Then she had to add, “So how did you find this hiding place and where is it?”
“A letter,” he simply replied. After a pause he explained. “It came yesterday, and apparently we have been observed, perhaps for weeks, maybe longer. It was really only a note...just a mo.” With that Ron fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the mysterious brief slip of paper. “There you are,” he said passing it to Yvonne.
The writing was neat and definitely not from somebody untutored in the art of cursive penmanship. It was undated and offered no return address.
You must be Ron,
I shall call at a later date and make myself known. I wondered at first who had taken up residence in our family home. For now just go to the broom cupboard and look up at the low ceiling. You will find a trap-door and inside the contents are to be handled very carefully and shown to Yvonne.
Yours Sincerely, Melanie
“I was going to call you, Yvonne, though you must admit that in your corner of the woods I am not the number one person worthy of your renewed acquaintance.” Ron would have begun to expand his excuse as was his wont. He let the words tail away seeing once more the little flashes in Yvonne’s eyes. He needn’t have worried, for Yvonne was now more curious about the note and the album than pursuing her irritation with Ron’s verbal meanderings.
“Who is Melanie? Whose family home does she mean? She cannot mean this flat of yours...or can she, Ron? I wouldn’t put anything past you. Come to think of it how did you find residence in the West End? Are you Squatting, Ron?”
Yvonne’s questions came thick and fast, rising in pitch until she was almost shouting the last.
Ron gave out one of his nervous chuckles as he countered her with a loud complaining,
“Me A Squatter, Yvonne!” It was of course more of a denial than an affirmation.
“Well go on. Are You?” she demanded. Ron was about to tell her the circumstances that led to Gary obtaining the keys and allowing him to move in but was saved from an angrier interrogation when Yvonne’s mounting curiosity was drawn by album that was still only open to the first page with Gary smiling out at her as much as to say, ‘This is for you, Yvonne. This is what has happened.’ His eyes had that old magic message which always told her that he loved her. Somehow she knew that he was posing for her.
“Never mind,” she said, “We can get to that later, I’m sure you’ll cast a mist and obscure the truth with more of your tortuous long drawn out and devious excuses.” Then much more softly, she added, “I just want to see into Gary’s other life. Turn the page, Ron.”
He hesitated and instead of doing as she asked he said, “There is something else, first of all”.
With that Ron rose from the couch and going over to the sideboard, he picked up a small box little more than the size of a large book. It was covered in red velvet and had a tiny hinged brass latch shaped like a heart at one end. Though snapped closed on the catch, there was no lock. Ron savoured the moment as he returned to the couch and placed it on the coffee table to one side of the album.
“This was in the hidey hole along with the albums, which all seem to be numbered. I only brought the first one down, and the box. But what a find,” he smirked. Ron’s whole frame shook with laughter as he announced “I’m rich.”
With that he flicked the latch and opened the lid of the box. “Just look at these diamonds.”
Yvonne wasn’t fooled. “You’re not rich, you fool. First of all they aren’t yours and probably belong to this Melanie whoever she is. Most of all though, they aren’t diamonds. We sell these now along with our natural holistic healing commodities. What is more important is that Gary knew all about them*. They are energy crystals, Ron.”
*Gary had made fun of Yvonne’s new business in Series 4 Episode 10, ‘Careless Lives’ when she was telling Kate (Allie Byrne) how the energy crystals were used.
Both Yvonne and Ron were puzzled by the crystals.
“Why these? “Wasn’t there another note?” Yvonne was nonplussed as she tried to think of some reason for Gary even having the crystals he had once mocked. “They have to be from Gary,” she finally decided. “After all there he is at the very front of this album.” With that she turned the page not only looking for memories now, but also some indication for the crystals being set beside the albums.
At first it was painful for Yvonne to see Gary holding Phoebe’s hand as they stood side by side looking down at a boat in what looked like a canal lock.
Seeing the anguish on her face, Ron felt uncomfortable. Perhaps he should never have told Yvonne so much about Phoebe, and now here he was adding more torment having introduced her to a book of photos which though keeping Gary’s memory alive could only add to the pain. He broke the silence with a cheery,
“Oh goodness me, I have a guest and I haven’t offered any refreshments yet. Ron was already up from the couch and on his way to the kitchen when Yvonne’s attention was snapped back from the intriguing picture that had been drawing, almost pulling her into the small frame.
“None of that Camp distaste for me, Ron,” she called out.
“Chicory Chick, Char or La..tay,” echoed back his cheery rejoinder. “Just plain black coffee, you Nut Head,” she answered as she turned once more to take a closer look, not at Gary and Phoebe but there was something about that boat.
She leant over to look closer at the image, and then raised her voice once more without looking up, “Have you got a magnifying glass, Ron?”
“In the top drawer of the sideboard.” Ron’s voice was not so loud now, as a thought had struck him that needed some deeper consideration, whilst he waited for the kettle to boil.
He mumbled aloud, but softly to himself, “There is one person whom Yvonne could talk this over with, and I wouldn’t be at all dismayed to renew my short acquaintance with Kate. “ The more he thought about her, the less he remembered about the way that last date had gone. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone so much over the top with his Bond routine.
“Oh, Wow!” Yvonne’s surprise shook Ron out of his muse and brought him almost running back from the kitchen. “What is it?” he said loudly, “Surely not some over familiar photo that would have been far better kept for private reflection.”
“Shut It, Ron.” “Just look at this, look at the name on the side of the boat.” With that she handed him the magnifying glass.
“A Narrow Boat, if I’m not mistaken. Pity it is in black and white otherwise we could have had great pleasure in taking in the merging colours of the Roses and Castle. What a gem from an almost forgotten era when these craft were our main means of transport and freighting heavy cargoes through the back waters....” Ron would have gone on endlessly relating the whole history of the Inland Waterways had not Yvonne put an end to it.
“Look at the name on the side,” she said as she cut him short. Ron couldn’t resist a cheeky shake of his head as he put on his most important and knowing posture, thrusting out the hand lens at arm’s length then bringing it back closer to his eye in some mock aping of how he perceived Sherlock Holmes conducting an investigation.
“Holey Moley!” Now he was all attention as he leaned over the album to look closer. “That clever little Gary. But how could he possibly have known that a boat would come along with that name on it, and so give us here, in this far off twinkling flash of his prospective future, a clue to the purpose of these little sparkling gems.”
“Oh Ron,” whispered Yvonne with some impatience in her tone, but also tinged with a hint of her puzzlement. “Oh Eth,” he chuckled. “Sorry, Yvonne. I’ve always wanted to use that one when being addressed with what sounds like a note of endearment.”
Yvonne’s eyes were like daggers, causing Ron to quickly exclaim, “Alright I’m not really one of the Glumm’s, but yes, this has to be a pointer full of intention from Gary.”
He looked once more, and then said, “Ruby Crystal. Whoever took the photo must have waited for the boat to rise in the lock until the name on the stern became discernible. Not only that but they had to get the angle right as it curves round at the back. No I correct myself. In that world of inland navigation the back was the front.” Ron paused and this time he was shouting,
“THERE, THAT’S HOW HE KNEW THE BOAT WOULD BE THERE AT THE RIGHT TIME. AND THAT’S WHAT HE’S DONE TO MAKE ENDS MEET!”
Yvonne snatched the magnifying glass from Ron’s hand, and bent over to read for herself, the name on the small narrow boat cabin was just readable at the angle that the photograph had been taken.
Crystal Line Boats Gary Sparrow Uxbridge
Ron couldn’t help chuckling away once more, “I told you he was a cunning old devil, and to think that his grandfather was a great big submariner and one time cooper.”
Further remarks were abruptly cut short as a whistling and rattling from the kitchen, and an “Oh Hell” from Ron had him racing back to the kitchen. Yvonne remained glued to the photo. As much as she wanted to turn the pages and see what else the album had to offer, there was something stronger forcing her attention to be stuck on this one page. It was as if time was standing still, and perhaps it really was. Uppermost in her mind were a multitude of thoughts but the predominant one was that he still loved her. The more she kept that thought the more she felt drawn. “You must be missing me”, she muttered to herself. “I should be feeling so jealous of her, standing there with you, but somehow I don’t. Something tells me that I have no cause to be envious and what is odder still it is as if I still have you all to myself.”
Hardly noticing what she was doing, Yvonne reached out and fumbled among the open box of crystals. She didn’t even look down and see what crystal she now held between her fingers. She knew very well that it was the Ruby Crystal, and so it was. But one question now rose up. “What are they for?” Then another, “What Must I do?”
As if in answer to her hardly audible question, a thought popped into her mind. ‘Next page’. Yvonne was going to do just that in any case, though her decision somehow felt more of an instruction than being her own deliberation. Phoebe was looking straight at her from the portrait, almost as if she could see Yvonne. Not only was this disturbing, but there was something else about the picture that sent a shiver up her spine. It wasn’t the fact that this was the other woman.
“Ooh,” she shuddered loud enough this time for Ron to hear on his way back into the lounge carrying a tray with the two cups of coffee.
“Ah, you have found some poignant illustration that has reached through all the decades, more than five of them if I’m not mistaken judging by the fact that the photo in front of you is still without all the hues, colours and tints that we have taken as granted from a date long before we ourselves were a glint in our parents’ eyes.”
Ron was a more than a little surprised that Yvonne hadn’t raised her head to reproach him for his loquacious disturbance. Even when he placed the tray down on the coffee table to one side of the album, she remained locked into the photo of Phoebe.
At last she spoke, “It is as if I’ve always known her, Ron. I have the feeling as well that there is more to the print and I am meant to see it. Of course, I remember those eyes, those lips, that forehead, her hair, her cheeks...it was all burned into my mind the moment I found the photo of her with Gary in his wallet.”
“And you met her that one time when she came through the portal into the shop.” That memory had Ron laughing. He just couldn’t help it as he quickly added, “You have to admit that it was hysterical. Gary almost soiled himself.”
The memory of Gary’s discomfort, though she wasn’t aware why at the time, was enough to bring a big smile to Yvonne’s face. It only lasted an instant for she was eagerly gazing at the photo trying to see what it might be that was so demanding of her attention. Ron too couldn’t help but wonder what they might be looking for. Yvonne was about to turn to the next page, when Ron suddenly had an inkling of an answer,
“Hold it, Yvonne. There is something. Funny I didn’t spot it straight away despite my keen powers of observation especially in the case of an accessory that adds some flash, some exciting panache, and one might say some flamboyant display that enhances the elegance in the ambience and bearing of an attractive mature lady who is not unfamiliar with the exigencies of smart adornment when she is about to pose directly in the line of sight of a lens on what could have been an instrument having the purpose of visual reproduction from the house of Frith.”
Had it not been a door that was opening in Yvonne’s mind while Ron was once again painting verbal illustrations mostly of his own making, she would have exploded half way through his dissertation. Instead she merely told him, “Go on Ron, what is it?”
“Well just look at Phoebe’s necklace. I’m sure I’ve seen it before and it couldn’t have been when she briefly popped through the time portal.”
“You’re right for once, Ron. You may well have seen it before, I’m wearing it.” With that Yvonne reached her hand up to the neck of her jumper and after fingering it for a second or two she pulled out the very same delicate golden necklace. “There is a difference though,” she tearfully added, “Mine ends in an empty ring, whilst he has given her one with a stone.”
“Don’t be too hasty, condemning Gary.” Ron got the words in hastily for he could see how hurt she was, and a reason was forming in his mind. “He is sending a message by means of the photo and Phoebe’s necklace.”
“It could well be that you have it all too, and maybe yours is the only one.”
“Oh, don’t be silly and stop making excuses for him, Ron” she blurted out with growing annoyance.
“I’m not sure.” Ron pondered long and thoughtfully as only he could do when trying to look all knowing. “Taken that Gary and even myself have crossed through from one world to another, it could be that there is some way a mere artefact could travel on its own.”
Further contemplation by either of the two was interrupted by something verging close or even well within the bounds of the paranormal.
“Oh My.” The two short words were chorused as they were both taken aback.
“Did you see that?” Ron’s voice went high with his surprise while Yvonne’s “It can’t be happening” followed fast.
It had only lasted for an almost imperceptible moment, but they both saw it and they both were left bewildered and one could say, ‘struck with awe’.
It might only have been a twinned filament of both imaginations, but it seemed that the stone in Phoebe’s necklace had momentarily changed into a rich red ruby colour.
As they stared at the photo, nothing else happened. It remained as it had been simply all black and white. It was Ron who said it first. “You have to put the ruby crystal in your necklace ring. See if it fits.”
Yvonne nodded as she slowly picked out the said crystal and gradually set it within the ring. It fitted and almost snapped into place. Nothing happened.
Eventually Ron gave a nervous laugh, and mockingly goaded Yvonne, “Hey you didn’t think that it was going to beam you up, Scotty, or make some gigantic genie materialise before our very eyes, did you?” Ron chuckled on until he realised that he was playing with fire yet again.
Yvonne decided to ignore him, and turned the page. “That’s odd,” she said. “Why would they have taken a photo of an empty room? I suppose you might do that if you wanted to show off a new home and send pictures to your mother and dad, but I mean, this doesn’t look anything special.”
After studying the enigmatic image a little longer, Yvonne turned over the leaf to the next page. “Now this really doesn’t make sense.”
“No it doesn’t, and maybe it does,” Ron ventured.
Yvonne quickly looked briefly at the rest of the album, and it was just as surprising. The photo of Phoebe was repeated over and over, with the intervening pages showing mostly some scene either in a room or outside, but not one with any close ups of people in them. She closed the album, stood up from the couch and reached for her handbag. Ron just looked up querulously before he objected, “But you aren’t leaving already. Surely you aren’t going until we work out whether or not this is all some means devised by Gary to fast forward through the remaining decades of the century and reach out to his main love.” He thought that by stating an assumed preference of wives, it would influence Yvonne’s apparent departure.
“We haven’t looked at the other albums, yet.” Now Ron was on his feet ready to plead for a little longer in Yvonne’s company. “It get’s awful lonely here,” he moaned.
Yvonne just frowned back at him. “Can’t you see, Ron, I need some advice from an expert in these matters. I am going to call Kate in Salford.” As she pulled out her mobile from her bag, Ron agreed,
“Oh yes, by all means get Kate down here.”
“Down Fido, you can stop panting right away. You know you burned your bridges with her the last time,” she said as she put him straight. “I only intend telling Kate what we have found, and see if she has any ideas.”
“Ah yes,” Ron said thoughtfully, “might be all to do with the psychometric aspects that we’re dealing with here.”
Yvonne ignored his last remark as she dialled Kate’s number. Fortunately Kate answered with little delay, and having listened carefully her first thought was that it might very well have something to do with stored energy in the crystal. However she wanted to think it over a little first. Putting the mobile back into her bag, she told Ron,
“Kate says ‘Hi’ and ‘Goodbye’. She’ll give us a call back shortly. Is that coffee still warm?”
“I’m quite partial to iced coffee,” he said as he sat down again and picked up his mug. “In fact I get iced so often I feel like a frosticle.”
Yvonne was amused for once and quipped back at him, “Well you can be sure of one thing Master Ronnie, neither Kate nor Flic will thaw you out now.”
It wasn’t long at all before Kate rang back, a little excited. “It has to be the photos. I think what you must do is look at the first one, the one you described as an empty room. Give it your full concentration and try as hard as you can to imagine yourself in the room, but while you do so, handle the ruby crystal. That ought to be the trigger. Whoever planted it has hopefully energised it with their feelings.”
Yvonne was fired up with this suggestion, but needed to know more before she tried it. “So what you are saying, Kate is that I might pick up a message from Gary?” Kate agreed, “Yes, that’s about it. Just don’t hope for more. Give it all you’ve got and I can’t wait to hear back from you to know whether it works. Good Luck.” Then before Kate hung up she had one afterthought, “Better to do this on your own. Kick that lump out of the room.”
Both Kate and Yvonne were grinning as they replaced their mobiles.
It was a very reluctant Ron that stomped out of his lounge room and headed for his bedroom. “Off to your Kennel, Ronnie.” He was still complaining as he laid back in an armchair having dug out his favourite crossword book, “After all I do for people. Do I ever get thanked? Never appreciated.” Then straightening up a bit with some surprise he said to himself, “Ah ha bit of syllogism at work here, or should it put it simply as a coincidence. ‘Appreciate’ that’s it, ten across.”
Meanwhile in the lounge Yvonne was sitting staring hard at the photo of the empty room with one hand holding tight, the small crystal that was still firmly in place in her necklace. She tried to imagine the room with Gary in it and even what faint aroma’s there could be hanging about the chairs and other furniture. She focussed on each object one at a time and as she did so she blocked out all external noises from the street and those little creaks from time to time that somehow break the silence.
The minutes passed, though no external thoughts came through. She might have given up had not another idea popped into her head. ‘Try to think of sequence in time and give life to the photo.’ Again she lowered her head and though there was some temptation to close her eyes, she kept them looking at the couch. When it began Yvonne’s first instinct was that Ron was coming back. Those footsteps could only be his. But they weren’t.
The transformation was astounding and sudden. It almost arrived with a roll of drums was one way she put it when she later on she told Ron and Kate how it happened. The first she knew that she was connecting was when the shimmering of light began and then everything kind of went blurry. Just as suddenly the room she was in was steady and clear once more, but only for a few moments. Now the furniture was changing in both shape and colour. The vibrant orange slowly faded into a pale and even worn looking shade of apricot. It seemed narrower, while all around everything was transforming, from the fully fitted carpet into a smaller one that was in some Persian or Turkish design, to the wallpaper previously very much the latest style, but now very much like that which had adorned the walls of her grandparents’ home.
The change in the surroundings was shocking enough but now she realised that she herself was taking on a new appearance. Her whole frame shuddered and shivered, even feeling ticklish as her jeans shrivelled up from her ankles and then billowed out into a frock that was fashionable in the 1950’s. Though she couldn’t see it, she knew her hair was also victim to her new appearance. It felt heavier as it crept lower down the back of her head, and she just knew she wasn’t blonde anymore. She had to find a mirror.
Yvonne had hardly risen from the antiquated couch when she became aware that the sound of footsteps was getting louder and right outside the closed door. The panic she felt was dreadful until the door was fully open and there he was.
Gary smiled lovingly, and said ‘Hi, Yvonne, you made it then.’
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Post by malcolm on Jun 22, 2012 1:16:10 GMT -5
It's A Lovely Day Tomorrow...Continued.
It wasn’t long before curiosity got the better of Ron. As hard as he tried to disengage his thoughts from whatever Yvonne might be conjuring up in her mind from the photographs they kept coming back to the mystery of the crystals. He idly picked out first one book then another from the small bedside bookshelf that was normally his ideal means of escape from everyday reality. A quick scan through the pages of each did nothing to redirect his attention. Though he had read them all thoroughly there was usually some odd picture or some small passage that was so weighted with magnetism for the avid reader that it compelled him to read on and quickly avert his train of thought from any other interest of the moment.
Ron looked around his room, glancing here and there for some inspiration. It was no use for there were still too many questions, not only with the here and now but with the mechanics behind the time portal phenomena. While others either brushed away the paranormal as something that couldn’t be, or simply dismissed it as another bit of new age nonsense, Ron needed to know. His library was an indication of his hunger for some scientific breakthrough that would reveal the why’s and wherefore’s. The titles ranged from the unexplained to quantum mechanics and the Universe. Then there were the more mundane issues that had him wondering more. Yvonne hadn’t even remarked on his framing of Gary’s last message on the wall behind glass, but then perhaps she hadn’t noticed it?
After yet another glance at his wrist watch, Ron finally gave up and decided that Yvonne had had time enough on her own and he had to know if anything had come from her lengthy meditation. Besides, it was awfully quiet in the adjoining room.
“I’m back,” he announced as he opened the door and entered the room. Ron’s first reaction was something of surprise as he looked round, but could see no Yvonne. Thinking she may have gone to the kitchen or toilet he called out louder,
“Any Luck, Yvonne. Did the Earth move for you?” The total silence didn’t bother him at first. Though having a very good Mayfair address, the apartment was not that spacious or endowed with a surplus of rooms that couldn’t be checked quickly. Ron began to suspect that Yvonne had departed with not so much as a single ‘Goodbye Ron’, only to notice that her handbag remained by the side of the couch where she had been sitting.
“This is not looking good,” he told the empty room out loud. Then deciding to sit down, for he was always best when relaxed with his arms crossed and one leg resting across the other, he addressed the absent Yvonne as if she was still there to hear him.
“Well, I know you aren’t hiding. There isn’t one corner you could merge into and remain camouflaged against the background of what in my own opinion developed from years of experience in artwork design, if I do say it myself, could possibly hide your concealment, nor could you be so silent that neither one whisper of breath nor hint of any movement has audibly exposed your presence. To wit, or if you like, conclude, you cannot any longer be physically in this room, or anywhere in my apartment.”
Ron’s head movement from side to side, then tossing it back and forth, were all part of his peculiar way of expressing his exasperation in facing up to the unavoidable conclusion that Yvonne could hardly have gone without her handbag but was most definitely nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless he had to express his exasperation brought on by her disappearance one more time,
“Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are,” and then “I’m coming to get you”.
The silence was so profound that Ron could hear the rushing noise in his ears that sometimes manifests when all external noises are absent. Despite his threat he remained firmly seated oblivious to the strange feeling of complete withdrawal that now permeated the room. There was just nothing, not one creak. The whole flat might just as well have been transported into empty space where any noise is never possible.
At long last he decided to move himself. “I’ve got it,” he smiled still speaking his thoughts out loud. “You went out into the Hall, the door shut behind you, and you got locked out. I didn’t hear you knocking to get back in again, so of course, quite naturally you would ask for help from the neighbour down the corridor. Ah, but wait on. Sue or Jim if he’s at home would have offered you a phone call and so alerted me that your presence had inadvertently been removed from my Pad through a sequence of unfortunate events or in more colloquial terms you got yourself locked out, Yvonne.”
Having made it to the door while mouthing off these deliberations, he gripped the latch intending to swing the door wide open. It wouldn’t move. “Ah so that’s it. The lock has shifted and stuck.”
No matter how hard he struggled with the recalcitrant mechanism, his only main source of access to his apartment stayed firmly shut. Ron slowly turned around with the intention of going to the kitchen to fetch some lubricating oil when he got the shock of his life. Standing just beyond the coffee table, with no apparent means of entering the room, was a middle aged man, smartly dressed with his hair brylcreemed flat in a style that any movie buff would recognise as belonging to the late 1930’s.
“What is going on here?” Ron’s incredulous exclamation only served to broaden the smile on Noel’s face. As a rule the jovial Liverpudlian was able to ride out the nervous stress placed on his system by an unexpected jolt. He didn’t have to think about what had happened as his instinct instantaneously told his upper consciousness that this materialisation out of nowhere was impossible. Had he had time to think he would have put it down to a random time portal having strayed into his room. His subconscious knew that this possibility wasn’t on the cards.
“Ah my friend be not alarmed.” Then in a measured enunciated and very articulate delivery to the extent of rolling his ‘R’s’ and stressing each vowel sound, the stranger raised his right hand in the air is if pointing to an unseen screen floating beneath the ceiling.
“Let me int..rr..ohduce myself, Dear Boy”
Recovering somewhat, Ron was nodding, but very perplexed for he couldn’t help but recognise Noel from the photo and of course his movies.
“Now I get it,” said Ron before Noel could offer his name. “Here we are on the cusp of a new Millennium, and if I’m not mistaken it is a good many years since you, Mr Coward honoured us all with another inevitable success and dare I say it, your presence? So either I am in some surrealistic dream or what we have here is another portal that my good friend’s better half has stumbled through and allowed you Sir not only to peek through but venture across into my humble living quarters and at a time when Manchester United are the UEFA Champions, having downed Bayern Munich in what can only be described as a glorious finish to a memorable game.”
Ron was still wallowing in the euphoria following United’s win in May of 1999.
Noel smiled warmly as he waved his hand directing Ron to cut it there.
“Not Quaite. Not like that at all. As a playwright and story-teller I am on a panel that oversees the natural expected flow of events. We just can’t have you, causing some dis..rrr..uption following upon what you have just witnessed, or rrr.arther not seen but assumed. Now can we?” Noel widened his eyes in an expression that asked Ron to agree with him. He didn’t wait for a reply but continued his extraordinary revelation,
“We have enough trouble with UFO stories, crop circles, without you, Rrr..onnie, having everyone think that missing persons just vanish into thin air.”
“Isn’t that what has just happened to Yvonne right under my very own roof”, Ron protested.
“Ah well, that is how it appears, I must say.” Noel acknowledged. “I’ll explain a little more which should satisfy your inquisitiveness, but then I’m sorry, I will have to erase all that has happened from your everyday awareness. It will suffice for the truth to stay within your subconscious mind and so divert your desire to uncover the story and perhaps spoil the ending for everybody else.”
All that Ron wanted at that moment was some answer and seeing that there was more to come he invited Noel to take a seat with a wave of his hand.
The famed writer cum actor leaned back into the armchair facing Ron, and then orally waltzed into an illustration of his purpose in the eternal organisation of dramatic entertainment.
“Have you ever wondered, Ronnie, what it is like in Heaven, a word I use so that you will understand, though not a fair description for what is the true reality?” Noel didn’t intend for his listener to reply and so he continued with his disclosure giving no time for any interruption.
“To put it bluntly my dear friend, it would be extrrreeemlay boring with nothing to occupy an all knowing awareness forever and ever. Just imagine if you yourself had no diversions or need to acquire the necessities for your continued existence.”
Ron did manage to get a word in at this enticing thought, “Ah perpetual love,” he sighed. An onlooker seeing what he was thinking might have thought that he had strayed into a Sultan’s harem where the one and only man was Ron himself lying full length on a sumptuous but very large and wide Settee that was also supporting a bevy of scantily clad beauties.”
In fact the internal images produced in his listener’s intellect were no secret to Noel who having advanced to a higher astral plane was privy to whatever was occurring in the cranium of anyone who hadn’t yet risen above the lower status. Not only was he aware but he was well able to forecast the reaction in the mind of any of his players and so he hardly faltered as he progressed with his clarification,
“To put it simply, we need an inexhaustive and endless variety of amusements. I have to commend you on the part you are enacting and I couldn’t have picked a better character to play a jester, myself. The beauty of it all is that while you learn your lessons of life humanity conducts itself in so many different ways that we shall never run out of the most interesting and time absorbing situations.
That is all I need to impart to you for now and you may lock it all away in your subconscious memory bank.”
The scene in the room reverted instantly to the point in time when Ron turned from the door. There was no sign of any other person there, nor did he expect to see anyone. The memory of what had just happened along with the presence of Noel had gone. For a second Ron experienced a slight shiver as if he had just seen and felt a ghost float past. Otherwise he was completely oblivious to anything other than his need to open the door. Yet, there was something. He no longer had that impelling urge to know the ins and outs of all the curious causes and effects of Gary’s time travel or being so disturbed by Yvonne’s disappearance. Whatever it was it caused him to frown and then turn again and try the door once more. It opened.
There was not a soul in the Hall. Having at last realised that had Yvonne really got herself locked out she would have pressed the door bell and those chimes were enough to waken one from the most profound soporific slumber.
Ron began to console himself, “Here I am, unwanted, abandoned, tossed aside like some flotsam or jetsam, and what is worse I’m on my own.” The more he deliberated the more he plucked up courage to consult with the only person that would listen.
“Let’s face it,” he muttered aloud, “I may not be her choice companion, but when the going gets out of this world then I can manage to hold Kate’s full attention.” He was about to call directories in the hope that she had a listed number then had a second thought. “Of course, Yvonne’s mobile.”
Raising his eyes to the ceiling Ron addressed the absent Yvonne, “Forgive me for what I am about to do. I really do not make a habit of opening a lady’s accessory, be it reticule, indispensable or portable pouch and am so much more reticent in having to explore the contents despite the circumstances that have given rise to my need for some assistance in assessing all the possibilities that have removed you or caused you to leave my abode without so much of a farewell gesture.”
Squeezing his eyes in some pretence of not wanting to see the contents of Yvonne’s handbag he reached down and while picking it up, he opened it and thrust his hand inside. Almost immediately and without having to look Ron identified and withdrew the mobile from the bag. The stress of losing his guest so mysteriously was having its effect. Ron paced back and forth as he pressed the redial button.
* * * * * * * * In another time, though one that was now linked to run concurrently with the one Ron still occupied, emotions were running high.
Gary and Yvonne remained locked in each other’s arms in much the same manner when in another time they had found each other as Gary and Marie. Whereas the average embrace could be described as electrical and chemistry in action, this was nothing less than nuclear. On onlooker might have even remarked that sparks were flying with the whole of the surroundings supercharged.
“I’ve missed you so much,” they both said at the same time. Yvonne broke from the clinch first as a sudden realisation hit her hard. Now her questions came thick and fast, “Where are we?” “Have I time travelled?” “If I have, where is She?” A quick look round the room convinced Yvonne that something momentous really had happened.
“Slow Down.” Gary murmured his words soothingly.
“But these clothes, how did that happen. They feel so uncomfortable.” Yvonne was about to express more of her discontent with her dress, but stopped abruptly as she frowned and then placing her open right hand across her bottom exclaimed, “I’m wearing suspenders.”
That was enough to break the tension. They both chuckled and Gary couldn’t resist asking with that twisted questioning smile of his, “Would you like me to check?” That only brought on more laughter. “Cor, not ‘alf,” she replied.
Yvonne herself didn’t spot her own switch from her slight northern accent into broad cockney, though Gary picked it up straight away. “Can’t put it off any longer,” he said as he took her hand and beckoned her to follow him to the bedroom.
“You cheeky thing,” she protested, and then lost her smile as she saw how serious her husband had become. Now with an arm around her waist holding her firmly he led her straight up to the mirrored dressing table. Yvonne suffered a kind of nausea the instant she looked at her own reflection. The face that stared back just wasn’t hers. She was looking at Phoebe.
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Post by malcolm on Jun 22, 2012 1:33:05 GMT -5
Questions.
1 How did Gary know that it was Phoebe not Yvonne? 2 Why has her appearance changed? 3 Will Ron get together with Kate? 4 Is there a connection between Gary's Crystal Line narrow boats and the Energy Crystals? 5 If so how did Gary learn about them and know that he could pass on a message via photos of them? 6 Can Yvonne stay back with Gary or will she return? 7 Will we see more of Reg and Noel? 8 Might there be at least one time portal still open, apart from the Crystal manoevre?
A few more days and we'll move on with the story.
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Post by tabs on Jun 27, 2012 9:57:55 GMT -5
Questions. 1 How did Gary know that it was Phoebe not Yvonne? Something to do with the stone in the necklace? 2 Why has her appearance changed? The mind has been transported but not the body - but in that case why is her body no longer in Rons apartment? 3 Will Ron get together with Kate? I would like to think so but doubt it 4 Is there a connection between Gary's Crystal Line narrow boats and the Energy Crystals? Only in name? 5 If so how did Gary learn about them and know that he could pass on a message via photos of them? He owns the company and named it? 6 Can Yvonne stay back with Gary or will she return? As in Quantum Leap its not permanent 7 Will we see more of Reg and Noel? Yes please 8 Might there be at least one time portal still open, apart from the Crystal manoevre? Got to be. A few more days and we'll move on with the story. Please do, I enjoyed it. I think you are very close to capturing Rons verbosity to a T. Read more: goodnightsweetheart.net/index.cgi?board=general&action=display&thread=136#ixzz1z0LdtOWV
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Post by malcolm on Jun 27, 2012 15:27:32 GMT -5
Thank you Tabs for your feedback. I'll answer the questions, well as I see it happening, as we go along.
But it is a help to know that Reg and Noel are wanted. I have quite an idea about the latter, though varying possibilities for Reg. I definitely want to see him with those whiskers again and I have to see more of the Music Hall atmosphere if it is only as I conjure it up when writing. Don't think the crystals will take anyone back to the early 1890's, but I have your vote for a time portal:-)
Another thing is that I can only get the Ron Gary patter back by having them come face to face again. Whilst I 'hear' Ron speaking as he perambulates through a near unintelligble narrative, the smart witty rejoinders will be tricky - if I can manage them and come up with something new. Brilliance often comes in the early hours when I seem to be more open to that other world.
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Post by malcolm on Jun 29, 2012 0:00:03 GMT -5
I've made quite an interesting discovery in researching a little for this sequel. But I'll keep it to myself for now as I intend working it into the story and it will be more of a surprise that way. Will just say that I may have found the original time portal in the East End.
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Post by malcolm on Jun 30, 2012 0:29:21 GMT -5
Time to add a bit more of the story I'm having fun with anyway.
Gary caught hold of Phoebe as she swooned. This was a shock that the Yvonne side of her mind couldn’t cope with. Moments later when she opened her eyes she was lying on the bed with Gary sitting on the side deeply concerned and very much moved himself.
“Will you be alright, while I get you a stiff drink?” he asked.
“Never mind a stiff drink,” she came back at him; her broad cockney accent now very much the dominant part of her present being. “Just come here and hold me tight.” Phoebe raised her arms to draw him down. For a while not a word was said though umpteen ideas were coursing and formulating in her head.
Eventually she opened her eyes and now with her hands caressing his cheeks brought up the main question that puzzled her. “How did you know it was me, Yvonne, when I look like that photo of Phoebe?” Before he could reply she added another, “And were you really expecting me?”
Gary looked serious as he told it as he saw it. “I had an inkling when we found each other in 1888, with you as Marie Lloyd.”
Phoebe exploded with a loud, “What?” then continuing more softly in her amazement, “I don’t remember that. Somehow I feel as if I have become two people. I am Phoebe with all of her memories and I am Yvonne at the same time. It is unbelievable and it is giving me the strangest and the weirdest feeling.” Gary almost laughed for he had picked up the subtle change from Cockney to Scouse and back again in Phoebe’s few words.
“I’ll tell you all about the 1888 time jump another time. Believe me though you were there and you were Marie Lloyd but you were the absolute image of Yvonne.” Gary smiled with his cheeky look saying, “Got a smashing Music Hall voice though. You should use it in the Club sometime.” Then more quizzical he wondered, “Funny though you never played the songbird as Yvonne.”
That remark brought a swift retort, “Did I ever get a chance, what with you grabbing the piano any time we went down to the local and then getting everyone to sing along with some old 1960’s or at the best a 1970’s oldie?”
It was obviously time to change the subject so Gary repeated her question, “How did I know it was you, Yvonne? There was just something seconds before you opened the door. I don’t know why but there was a funny feeling and then so many images in my mind of all we had done together from the time we first met, our wedding day, our honeymoon in Cornwall, buying our first house, all the parties, even going shopping together. It all came to me in a flash but all the time you kept changing from Yvonne to Phoebe and back. It was just like they say about all your life happening all at once...”
He didn’t finish but continued, “Well anyway, I knew that it was going to be you, Yvonne and I didn’t feel any surprise when I saw you, Phoebe. Everything is beginning to make sense now.” Yvonne/Phoebe/Marie gave him a look that was both a question and a stern ‘this had better be good’ stare at the same time.
“It was something Ron and I were talking about, two or three years ago.” Gary was still working it out in his mind. “I had wondered whether we only had one soul mate in life and Ron complained that with his luck his mate would have been Cleopatra, or Joan of Arc or Xena Warrior Princess.” Actually Gary had said ‘one or two soul mates’, but he caught himself in time before he repeated it exactly.
“So in each life time,” he mused, “it is always the same soul mate no matter who we become. That has to be it.” Gary nodded as he spoke.
“I like it,” she agreed. “But why can’t you look different for me each time?” Now they both laughed as they went into another clinch. It was only for a moment, for she pulled her head back as she asked him, “So why haven’t you changed? Why do I always get the same old Gary?” Now she was teasing him.
“Ah but I wasn’t somebody else when I went through the time portals, nor was Ron. Then again, you were two different people when you came through the portal into the shop and then coming face to face with your alter ego. So it may be that it all depends on who others expect you to be and we did have Ron looking on at that time.”
As the Yvonne side of Phoebe turned all that had happened over in her mind she inadvertently put a hand to her neck, and began playing with her necklace, running her fingers gently up and down the thin gold chain. Then with the necklace in mind she had so ask Gary about the crystals.
“How did you know about the crystals”, she began, but remembering the photo of them standing at the lock side looking down at a narrow boat she added, “And how about the boat with your name on the side? I think you’ve got a lot to explain, Gary Sparrow.”
Yvonne didn’t realise that her Phoebe side knew nothing about that photo. So the question was as much from Phoebe as it was from Yvonne. It all became stranger still when she saw that Gary was staring at her with his ‘What are you talking about look’ written all over his face.
“What photo, what boat?” he gasped. At first Yvonne/Phoebe assumed that he was hiding something, perhaps as much as he had when leading his double life as a time traveller. She knew him too well though and could see that his surprise was genuine. It took all of the following half hour to tell Gary all about how and why she had gone to see Ron at the Mayfair apartment, and how he had found the photos, the album and the crystals. When she told him that she had ‘phoned Kate, Gary exploded,
“Oh no, not the ‘Witch of the North’. Surely you’ve found out by now that her magic spells are only ‘Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and caldron bubble.’ “ Then with even more of a high pitched mocking tone he sang, “Fillet of a fenny snake, In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt, and toe of frog, ...” Yvonne’s/Phoebe’s eyes looked daggers and who knows how she might have scolded him had they not both burst into laughter. “But seriously,” said Gary when their mirth had subsided. “I really don’t know anything about any photos or crystals.” Then holding up his hand in a ‘just a moment’ gesture, he led the way to the broom cupboard. The small trapdoor into the hidey hole was there, but the cavity was totally empty. Climbing down from the small step ladder, he thought for a while and then muttered loudly as he worked out the various possibilities, “So, if there is nothing there now, and you found photos with both of us in them, then it hasn’t happened yet.” It was Yvonne’s Liverpool accented voice that butted in, “How can that be?” for she was quite confused what with trying to understand how and when the contents of the hidden recess had been placed there. Besides she wondered how Gary knew nothing about them and yet here she was back in Phoebe’s body and time, all because of what Ron had found. “I think I see.” Gary prolonged his last word as he worked it out. “It has to be some kind of a time loop, set up to make your transposition be possible. Yes that’s it. I would never have known anything about that Crystals could have the energy or power to operate like a time portal. You had to tell me, so now we have to set it up. Just go through it all again, tell me everything that happened.”
Phoebe/Yvonne nodded and was beginning to blurt it all out quickly in her excitement until Gary told her to slow down. This time she got as far as the photo of the boat, and as soon as she told him that it had ‘Gary Sparrow’ on the side, he interrupted with more questions.
“Are you sure,” he questioned at first. “I know there are still boats using the canals to carry coal and barrels of lime juice, but we’ve never done anything other than take a walk along the tow path of the Regents Canal as far as the Hertford Union. Well, you know that don’t you, Phoebe?”
“Course I do.” In answering that one Phoebe reverted to her broad cockney. “You never let us forget that we had to buy walking permits for the tow path.”
(Note: Walking permits are no longer required but a permit is required to cycle on the towpath.)
She could hardly say more for Gary was already thinking ahead. “You know, that might be something worth looking at.”
“Wot would that be Gary Sparrow?” Now Phoebe was mocking him.
“Well, the Club is doing fine, but let’s face it you and Reg can run it like a dream. I feel at times I’m just getting in the way. I just thought I could do something useful if we had our own boat on the canals, like Cressy.”
“What are you talking about and who’s this Cressy? Here, you ain’t found some new tart, I don’t know about, hev you?” Phoebe enjoyed teasing him, knowing full well now that he was never going away again, not if she could help it.”
As ever Gary rose to the taunt objecting, “Cressy isn’t a girl, Phoebe. She’s a boat. I just read all about her in a book. And by the way, Wigan has got a pier.” Then seeing the Yvonne side of Phoebe in the accusing eyes he qualified his statement. “Well maybe not the kind of pier people think of, but it has got a jetty where narrow boats can tie up.”
All the while this exchange was going on between the two, or should we say three, Gary’s soul mate was fumbling nervously with her necklace, so much so that she inadvertently pressed to hard on the crystal causing it to fall out of its collet and drop to the floor. He hardly paused as he leaned down and picked it up for her, saying as he did so,
“You know, just then I got the oddest sensation when I mentioned the Hertford Union. It was almost as if there is something about that canal, some kind of mystery.” Shrugging his shoulders he brushed it off, “Ah well, maybe it’s nothing. Enough talking, come here, You.” Yvonne/Phoebe needed no invitation to succumb to the embrace offered by his outstretched arms.
It was a long passionate clinch that could only have one conclusion.
SCENE – RON’S APARTMENT 2000
Kate hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry when she had answered the ‘phone. Fully expecting Yvonne to call back and let her know if her meditation with the crystal necklace had induced some images or better still some scenes from the past in her mind’s eye, Kate was startled to find that it was Ron on the line.
“Hi Kate, It’s your short-haired lover from Liverpool,” he began.
She cut him short with some exasperation, “Save me the Clown, Puppet, or April Fool line, Ron. Though come to think of it you could be a rather stout leprechaun sitting on a toadstool. Let me talk to Yvonne.”
Anybody else would have got straight to the point and informed Kate that Yvonne had somehow gone missing, but as ever Ron just had to ornament the message he needed to convey, perhaps enjoying the sound of his own words and definitely making them as dramatic as only he could.
“Ah well you see, there’s a slight problem in that bringing the delightful Yvonne to the phone at this hour, or you might say at any time within an acceptable duration that you would happily spend lingering at your end of the line in expectation of hearing the dulcet tones and timbre of her voice, isn’t within the realms of possibility or to put it more bluntly, she has vanished.”
Kate’s first impression was that Yvonne had either changed her mind, or given up on the psychometrics, or simply left Ron’s apartment for any number of reasons. However when she heard that she had gone without her handbag the seriousness of the situation struck home.
“It’s a bit late in the day, now Ron, but I’ll come down on the first morning train from Manchester to Euston. I need to see the album and the crystals.”
Throughout the night and on the train, Kate went over all the situations that might have been conjured up by Yvonne venturing into the paranormal world all on her own. She chided herself for not having told her friend to wait for her before messing about with something that could have repercussions as bad as an Ouija Board. On the other hand this could turn out to be a very good story for the Salford Evening Argus, never mind The Fortean Times. Had she not found out that Gary really had gone back to the 1940’s she might have suspected Yvonne with Ron’s help creating some elaborate trick as revenge.
When Ron opened the door her first question was naturally whether Yvonne might have returned. She felt sorry for him when she saw that he was looking dejected, as if it had been his fault that he had told and showed Yvonne what he had found.
“I suppose you have checked her apartment?” Ron said nothing and just shook his head. “Reported her missing?” Another shake of the head from an unusually quiet Ron.
Once they had exchanged the customary niceties and settled down to warm mugs of coffee, Ron pointed to the album and the box containing the remaining crystals, saying,
“There they are, and I’m sure you’ll understand why I don’t intend leaving you alone to study them?”
Kate said not a word; she was too intent in flicking through the album for a start. Finally she sat back and asked Ron, “Have you looked at all the photos, Ron?”
When he nodded she pointed out that it was perhaps unusual that the album was hardly half full. “That must mean,” she suggested, “that all the messages or what we are meant to see are in these pages.”
Kate’s attention now turned to the small box of crystals from which she selected a small handful. Peering down at the few she had spread across the palm of her left hand Kate flexed and stretched the fingers of her right hand prior to passing it slowly over the glistening gemstones. Ron was tempted to make some foolish comment like ‘abracadabra’ or ‘now you see them, now you don’t’ but managed to bite his tongue and hold back an utterance which he knew full well would spoil any chance he had of staying in Kate’s good books.
Still concentrating her thoughts and mind upon the crystals she commanded Ron to fetch her briefcase. “Open it for me,” she ordered not lifting her head. It was only when he had placed it by her side and done as requested that she broke away from her focus on the stones and clenched them tight and safely in her hand. The contents of the case were neatly stored, some in small compartments, so it only took a moment to choose the instrument she needed. Though no larger than a mobile ‘phone, Ron could tell that that was never its purpose for the two silver buttons extending from the end had to have a purpose that was far from any kind of normal communication.
Kate smiled when she saw the querulous look in his eyes. “You could say, that it is a kind of electronic tuning fork.”
“Ah! The old frequencies trick.” Ron was recalling the Time Technician who was monitoring the frequencies of the time portals at the back of ‘Blitz ‘n Pieces’.
“So we could have a faulty wave in the gravitational attraction of some other dimension that has been verging on a collision course with the spatial sequence of events that we have come to accept as being our own communal existence.” Ron kept on nodding his head thoughtfully as if he understood his own mishmash of words, ever hoping that it would somehow lift his personality in Kate’s eyes as a man of great knowledge and one worth getting to know better.
“No Ron!” Kate had to laugh, which he took to be for him rather than at him. “This instrument will only show us if the crystals have somehow stored information, though I have no idea how that may help, even if we can unlock it.” Having laid the hand held crystals down on a piece of linen taken from her briefcase; she began by adjusting the meter’s controls. Ron was shaking his head with a stretch of the neck as he did at times when undecided as to what he should do next. Then spotting a book in Kate’s case, he asked, “May I?”
Kate merely looked round and nodded whereupon Ron picked up the book which was all about crystal energy. It wasn’t long before he was expressing his astonishment loudly with gasps and whistles as he read out some of the most significant passages.
“Well would you credit it?” “So these tiny baubles really are more than colourful and sparkling items of jewellery designed and fashioned to enhance the appearance of a well dressed woman.”
She smiled again, letting him continue, although she knew the contents of the book inside out. There was no stopping Ron now that he believed that he was on to something. “Listen to this; it says that Mayan descendants believe that quartz crystal has distinctive qualities and it could be a computer device or used for communicating between the worlds, a sort of doorway into other dimensions.”
Kate said nothing and merely confirmed the claim with another knowing beam. After a few more bursts of excitement from Ron in the form of Ah’s and Uh-Uh’s, he rambled on, “Yes, yes. I knew that. The heart of a computer is a tiny silicon crystal-chip, a tiny crystalline chip which has incredible storage capacity.” He looked up and made the observation, “That being so, Kate, if those crystals also store information, as small as they are yet thousands of times larger than a silicon chip then they could hold a whole life story.”
“Or a life itself?” Kate’s suggestive question stunned Ron with the very thought of something like a gemstone being alive, but her next few words were even more startling.
“Just suppose the core of this planet has similar properties, what then Ron? Perhaps all the stories and all the lives ever lived? Think about it.”
Ron had a new respect for Kate. ‘Oh, how he had misjudged her.” Thoughts galore ran through his over active mind. Then he chuckled. “This book is better than the sexy book Gary gave me.”
(Note: Refer “The Mystery of the Crystal Skulls” by Chris Morton and Ceri Louise Thomas.)
Kate was about to come back at him with a scathing protest when a rush of wind suddenly blew through the closed room. With it came a growling, throbbing sound that sent shudders up and down their spines. Their mouths were already gaping with horror before the cause of the disturbance appeared out of nowhere.
Gary was standing by the sideboard, clad only in his pyjamas. In his hands he still held the necklace that Phoebe/Yvonne had removed, but now with the ruby crystal that he had just snapped back into place.
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Post by malcolm on Jul 2, 2012 19:04:31 GMT -5
Next scene taking some time to get sorted as it is something out of the ordinary. But I'm getting there, having been led all over the place in researching the old Turk's Head Inn in Gerard Street that was once the home of the Club, but is today a Chinese Supermarket. All well worth the time as have learned so much about the Literary World through the ages since Sir Francis Bacon and his writing friends met in London and then at 'The Temple' at St.Albans. The Bacon house acquired that name from the fact that they honoured the goddess Athena who was seen as a Spear Shaker. That is, when she shook her spear it radiated knowledge and learning.
Bacon was 46 years old when King James gave him a high position and had Bacon edit his KJV bible. If you have a copy of the KJV then count from the beginning of Psalm 46 to the 46th word and then the 46th word back from the end of the Psalm (ignoring Selah which means 'pause'). That will give you the name of the Pen Name he used to write his plays as well as Cervantes and Edmund Spenser.
There may have been literary clubs prior to Bacon, though I doubt it and have not found any evidence at an earlier date. He was also the first Scientist and first Psychologist. His 'ab' code used in the first folios is also a forerunner of binary maths.
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Post by malcolm on Jul 3, 2012 1:51:40 GMT -5
SCENE - TURK’S HEAD INN. At first glance there was nothing unusual about the surroundings within or the snug cosy bars of the old and long established Inn. A casual client intent on quenching his thirst, and keeping well on course along the pavement, might well have missed the misty aura hanging over the time worn half timbered walls and quarrel windows that belied its 21st century appearance as a Chinese supermarket. Only the rattle of metal wheels across a cobbled surface could have alerted him that he had drifted away from the holographic world he saw as real into one that had more substance. The Turk’s Head remained as solid as the day it was constructed for it was only the copy that reverted to a private home and was eventually rebuilt into the mundane shop front familiar to the story actors of a different time frame. In the story that parted company from its mediaeval origins, the Club had moved first to Sackville Street then Dover Street. Nevertheless the founding members not only remained faithful to their first and most beloved retreat but had also been joined by greater names and players from the ever on-going fictional chronicle so popular with everyone who had once been players themselves on that fabulous World Stage. Had our passer-by crossed the line and wandered through the fog like cloud that often disguises a time passage, the door of the Inn would have been open to him, though not the Inner Sanctum in the large back room kept ever private for members of The Club. Even a cursory eye sweeping from one end of the common room across wooden tables and chairs to the stout Innkeeper standing ready with jug in hand at the far side, couldn’t have revealed a scene more real and existent than the street he would have so recently exited. The story reader is most fortunate as he or she may go where current actors may not be. Fear not your imagination in your present dream though seemingly solid will not fade away should you venture into the real and ever-lasting universe. Forget it for a while and come with us into that most sacred room where the greatest dramatists and poets that ever lived continue to forge the life stories ready for enactment from the moment a new child is born. One could never name so many of the illustrious writers in attendance on the evening when Noel addressed them with his report on the tumultuous scenes and acting of Gary and his friends that had been introduced to commence a whole new story line. The actors themselves had like everyone else in the age and sets presented not an inkling that they were performing along the lines of a pre-planned theme. Nor did they ever notice the slight nudges to go hither or thither or that they were being viewed by an audience spread far and wide through the Cosmos. The room itself was plush with fine furnishings. Great heavy wine coloured drapes fell from ceiling to floor, with the purpose of framing the green velvet wall coverings rather than covering an outer mullioned window frame. The meeting was as it always was not formal but relaxed where members could sit back in cushioned oval backed seats and cross their legs for added ease and comfort. They were attended not by the innkeeper in the front room but by a uniformed seneschal and steward at the ready with flagon of punch on a tray. Attachments:
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Post by malcolm on Jul 7, 2012 2:06:37 GMT -5
When in the Earthly dimension club members adhered to the fashion of the day and discussed events rather than writing and directing them. Consequently the painting by Joshua Reynolds depicted them in Georgian style whereas at the higher level or as some would have it in the heavenly plane they were free to dress as they wished. Each member’s choice tended to be as they had seen themselves when they were last on the World Stage and similarly they held on to the names of the characters they had played during that life time instead of reverting to any of their previous designations.
There were the odd few exceptions and John Inman who was now director of gay humour livened up each gathering and always in the most colourful and ornate manner. As also to be expected those of them who had played the part of actors within their story life careers continued to use the catch phrases for which they were well known.
Though Noel had most members’ attention a few whispered asides were being exchanged at the far end of the table. John, resplendent in a tight fitting silver doubloon with matching pantaloons and feathered collar tried bringing them to order first of all with a high pitched ‘Mmmmm’. When that didn’t bring the wayward pair to pay attention he rapped somewhat petulantly on the table, and called out,
“Are You Free, Mr. Fleming?” Hearing only his surname and entirely misconstruing what was being said to him, Ian nodded to the nearby servant saying “Shaken, not stirred”.
Seconds later when the expected refreshment did not materialise, Ian looked up; the flunkey shook his head and beckoned with his eyes towards a patiently waiting John who was biding the time by examining the nails on his partly clenched left hand.
Satisfied by the sudden lull, John invited Noel to go ahead with his presentation of what had happened so far in the latest episode of Gary’s adventures with particular emphasis on the deprogramming of Ron’s insight into the mystery of Yvonne’s disappearance.
“You may take it from the top, Noel.” Then in order to make it clear that everyone was to listen carefully, John hunched his shoulders and with his lame-wristed mincing walk waddled his way skirting round the back of Eric Sykes and Alastair Sim to stand behind Noel. Patting the cream of English gentility on his back John brought the assembled masters of stage and literature to order with his high-pitched voice,
“Now Pay Attention, Children. Listen and watch how Noel manipulated the character Ron. You all have a rough script of the direction the story is taking so if anyone can see any opportunity for some added colour or an implied innuendo then save it for question time.”
Noel grimaced a little, not welcoming the familiarity of John’s proximity. Though of a similar nature the two were poles apart when it came to the company each liked to keep. He frowned more as he caught a remark that John was whispering softly to himself, “Deary Me, it’s like getting Mr Lucas to heed Captain Peacock.”
Satisfied that everyone was at last focussed on the surface area of the glistening table they surrounded, Noel signalled a projector assistant to fire up the instrument.
Without going into great technical details it was no ordinary table but one that could raise a holographic tableau of life and reality. It had a precision that was enhanced by the formation of characters and surroundings out of basic sub-atomic particles. The source of each and every emanation rising out of the radiant and very much alive table top was as invisible as any other boson particle occupying the same quantum space. Yet a strong interactive force formed every particle into a visible three dimensional mass as it materialised out of nowhere to the observer’s eye.
The learned company watched intently as the figures appeared before them in a montage no more than thirty centimetres high. Though miniaturised and oblivious to anything outside the limits of their arena the characters were very much alive and real as they were when first playing their parts. Their surroundings too were as solid and unyielding as they had always been. This was no recording but a meaningful re-enactment.
It was all so real it captured the attention of the members of the Literary Club to a degree whereby they could identify themselves as if they were playing the parts themselves. They felt every emotion and even the thoughts of the players.
The replay took them all the way through events in the apartment from the moment Yvonne knocked on the door to Gary’s transposition back from 1946 to 2000. Additionally they were shown Phoebe/Yvonne’s reaction to his displacement. They had slept in late after a night of amorous passion and Gary was the first to open his eyes. He only had to look at Phoebe fast asleep with her head buried in her pillow to sense that Yvonne was still with him. Very slowly he eased himself out of their bed taking care not to disturb her and crept out of the bedroom passing through the lounge on his way to the bathroom. On his way back he noticed the necklace lying where she had laid it in her haste to offer herself ‘au naturel’. Right alongside there was the crystal practically calling out to be reunited with the necklace.
It was the Yvonne side of Gary’s spouse that opened her eyes an hour or so later. Though melded into one she was still able to think consciously as two different people although both knew everything about their separate lives.
“Gary, where are you now?” Her next words were teasing and those of the temptress, “I’m ready for an encore and my sensory attention is near its peak.” The silence only served to aggravate her. With one leap she was out of the bed and into their living room. She tore into the kitchen and then virtually ran to the bathroom. All was silent, there was neither not a sign of him.
“Not again,” she cried, now verging on tears. “Yes, again,” came a reply in tones unmistakeably Phoebe’s.”
Who hasn’t talked to themselves at some time or another, especially when on one’s own? We might think it is our sub-conscious self that answers, but can we be sure that it isn’t one of our other personalities from an earlier existence? In the case of Phoebe and Yvonne there was still a marked difference. It really was one talking to the other, even though they were in some kind of spiritual sense one and the same. Indeed had they been standing in front of a mirror the reflection would have had them standing face to face.
“I’ll kill him,” cried Yvonne. Phoebe chuckled “You don’t really mean that.” “I should have stayed in Twenty Hundred,” said Yvonne pausing for an instant before adding, “Should I have?” Phoebe still had a cheeky smile as she reminded her other identity, “You wouldn’t have missed last night for all the tea in China and look what we did for Gary. He had two of us all at once, and didn’t he rise to the challenge?” “Didn’t he ever?” Yvonne affirmed glowing once more at the memory.
For a while Phoebe/Yvonne was at ease, sure in herself that Gary would be back as he always had been in the past. But when she noticed that his suit still lay untidily on a chair a sense of great unease disturbed and brought her back to reality.
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Post by malcolm on Jul 9, 2012 2:23:59 GMT -5
Continued:
“Holey Moley!” Though Ron had witnessed Gary’s comings and goings a number of times the suddenness of his arrival this time was like a bomb blast. Yet it only took the one expletitive for Ron to recover his composure sufficiently to carry on, “Hey Gary, couldn’t you at least send some kind of advance warning when the mood takes you to drop in again. As much as I value your company as a friend if often only at a time when an exchange of opinions is conducted with some expediency in arriving at a vital decision, you are aware of my reluctance and disquietude when you intrude into my personal space as it were. How then is it that you have neglected to dress appropriately on the occasion of this most unexpected social call? I take it that it is unexpected and not a visit that had advanced past the planning stage?”
Kate stood looking on with a bemused smile on her face, not so much because of Ron’s long winded way of expressing himself as seeing the horrified look frozen on Gary’s face with his mouth wide open and his eyes big and round just as they had been when he was first accused of being a time traveller.
“I think Gary you had better let me find you a dressing gown.”
The poor fellow was still standing in an utter state of shock, hardly noticing that Kate was standing silent inwardly enjoying his embarrassment when Ron returned with what appeared to be a brightly multi-coloured and garish Kimono. He had to nudge the ever motionless Gary to get him to raise his arms high enough to help him put the gown on.
“Come on Mate, you haven’t got rigor mortis yet.”
Ron’s words were enough to stir the unfortunate Gary into life as he saw the size, and hideous design of the robe. He frowned and complained loudly, “Ronnnn, this is a marquee not a dressing gown.”
“I have to admit that it is a little on the large size for the slender figure. Not to worry it will shrink down with a little wash and wear.” Having ensured that his friend was more presentable considering that a lady was present, Ron told him, “Now sit yourself down and tell us what brings you here today.” Then after a slight pause, “And it had better be good.”
Kate needed no invitation to sit herself down too at the other end of the couch, saying at last, “Yes Gary, tell us all.”
Gary spluttered as he gathered his thoughts, “Well, er, I.... Yes that must have been...”
Seeing his confusion, Kate thought that it was time to let him know what she was doing there, “By the way, Gary you had better know that Yvonne has vanished.”
He acknowledged her and nodding said, “It’s alright, she came back, well kind of.”
With two pairs of eyes keenly telling him to explain what he meant, Gary plunged into what to him were most recent events.
“I had such a strong feeling about it all,” he began. There has been so much horror going on in the World what with terrorists blowing up the King David Hotel in Jerusalem, and now it looks like war breaking out in India, Indonesia and China. We never really remembered all that back in the 1990’s. I know, I know you want to know about Yvonne, but it is the only way of showing you how it was with ongoing doom and gloom and then that moment when I just felt that the sun was shining on the other side of the lounge room door.”
Then with some excitement, Gary exclaimed, “Did you know that everything including beer and sardines were still in short supply a year after the war ended?”
“Get on with it,” demanded Ron.
“Yes, well....ok...” Gary said as he gathered his thoughts once more. “I knew of course that Phoebe was in the lounge and I was just on my way to suggest she hurry up as we should have been at the Club......”
He stopped suddenly for he had completely overlooked; in fact they had both overlooked the Club in the excitement of finding each other again, and in such an unexpected manner. Gary was mortified with horror, then wondering why Reg hadn’t called to see what was up. He needn’t have worried since Noel knew and Noel had stepped in to entertain and manage the Club for the night.
Suffice to say that Gary realising that there was nothing he could do some 54 years after the evening he had missed. Both Ron and Kate leaned over not wanting to miss a word as they anticipated the special moment when Yvonne must have materialised in front of Gary’s eyes. What a bolt from the blue it must have been, and right in front of Phoebe too. His next words were almost a disappointment and yet when it all sank in there was much more to wonder at.
“When I opened the door...” Gary began. “Yes, yes....” cried the eager listeners.
“When I opened the door,” he repeated. “There she was. I could hardly believe it and I knew instantly that it was Yvonne as well as Phoebe.”
Two mouths opened in surprise, but it was Kate who understood whilst Ron was more than merely perplexed.
“You’ll need to be more specific, my friend,” said Ron who for once spoke straight and to the point. “Wait on, you were confused. You were missing Yvonne so much you convinced yourself that you would see her and so you did, in your wild imagination.”
“No, No, Ron.” Now Gary looked so serious. “It was Yvonne and it was Phoebe.
Kate came to his help, “I know exactly what you mean, Gary. I’ve come across a case like this before. It probably happens all the time when a soul is reborn. The old memories can live on. What makes this interesting is that with the time shift in Yvonne’s case the two reunited into the one. But how did you recognise Yvonne, Gary?”
“It wasn’t just her eyes and her cheeky Liverpool posture; I really did see Yvonne standing there when I opened the door. Then like a flash she was Phoebe and yet there was still a lot of Yvonne in her.”
The penny finally dropped for Ron and as it did he burst into laughter. “Ye Gods,” he chuckled. “You had so much trouble when they were half a century apart. Oh, boy, have you got a dilemma on your hands now.” The more it sank in the more Ron laughed and made fun.
“Talk about double trouble, he he he.”
“Alright Ron,” said Gary sternly. “If you must know, I handled the situation very well, and my wives appreciated me.”
“Ah but Gary you old dog, you are in deep mire.” Ron could hardly get his words out; he was cracking up so much at the thought of the two personalities knowing so intimately all that had transpired over the last six years. “Just you wait until she compares notes with herself.”
His sheer mirth was catching in Kate’s case, but Gary was not amused. In the end it was Kate who dropped the big bombshell. “I hate to remind you Gary, but you are back in our time, and both Phoebe and Yvonne will be missing you in 1946.”
That was enough to set Ron off again. Now he was rolling around on the couch in convulsions of laughter. “You can’t even nip down Duckett’s passage with a new supply of tights and chocolates.” Then with a sudden thought he regained his composure, “But seriously old man, you might well be stuck here in the 21st century.”
“Not necessarily,” said Kate. “Think about it. Yvonne has somehow managed to go back in time, and here we have Gary. So what has caused their time shifts?” She was working it out while she talked. “It must have something to do with the necklace and the crystal. May I see it?” Ron got up and picked it up from the floor where it had fallen when Gary had been stunned and frozen to the spot on his surprising arrival, then handed it to Kate.
“Ah,” she murmured. “Look at this.” Now it was Ron and Gary who leaned over to see what she was indicating.” “See, one side of the crystal is flat though faceted, whilst the reverse has a rounded finish. Now, I’m only guessing but I think, Gary you may have put it back the other way round.”
The horror that Gary had been swept with receded a little. “You mean to say that all I have to do is take it out and turn it around?”
“That might just be part of it Gary,” she answered. “However we do know that Yvonne had to do more than wear the necklace and crystal before she travelled. She had to tell the crystal where she wanted to be. So Gary what were you thinking of when you handled the necklace?”
He thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yes I did wonder for a moment how it might be for Ron, losing another friend. He doesn’t know all that many people, you know, Kate. I did visualise him sitting all alone in this room.”
“’That’s not true.” Ron was aggrieved and offended by the suggestion that he was poverty stricken when it came to having friends. He would have enumerated them all if they hadn’t stopped him as soon as he mentioned, ‘Flic’. Kate was beginning to accept Ron a little more than she had when he had over performed towards her in his attempted seduction. “He doesn’t really mean it, Ron. You should know when Gary is having a little dig at you.”
“Anyway,” Gary pointed out, “we know that I’ll get back because of the photo. Yes, Yvonne told me all about it, though honestly I don’t know how that will come about as I haven’t got a dinghy, never mind a fleet of narrow boats.”
With his mind back on the Canals, Gary recalled the weird sensation that had come over him when the Hertford Union had been mentioned. “It was a kind of déjà vue” he told them when he tried to describe it.
At that point Kate looked at her watch and was going to say that she had to be getting along, but Ron noticed and offered her his room for the night. “We can kip down here.” Then to Gary he pointed out, “Bit late for you to be taking a half century flip, Gary.”
Kate however had already made arrangements to stay over with Melanie, her sister whose home was not too far away which when made known to Ron only served to deflate his hopes of some closer chat to pass the evening.
Before she left she saw that Gary needed some comforting and assured him that Yvonne would also know full well that he would return, and soon.
“Look Gary, I’ll call back first thing in the morning. You might as well make the most of your visit this time. It might be your last,” she warned him. Just don’t go messing with the crystals until I’ve looked them over and whatever you do, don’t let him near them.” The last advice was given with some humour, though Ron didn’t see it that way and looked very pained.
“There is something we need to try first. From what you’ve told me there is more to the canals than we’ve picked up so far. I think we should take a look at the Hertford Union, or did you say ‘Hereford’”, Kate queried. Not waiting for a reply she then pointed out that Gary could hardly venture outside of Ron’s flat, never mind take a walk along a towpath in his present dress. “I’m sure that my brother-in-law Michael will have some suits and shirts that will fit you.”
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Post by malcolm on Jul 11, 2012 4:36:08 GMT -5
A bit more and I hope this has a few surprises for you all:
SCENE – RON’S CAR, THEN TOWPATH ALONG THE SIDE OF THE HERTFORD UNION CANAL
It was a warm summer morning on the day after Gary’s unexpected time jump into the year 2000. Kate felt even more so that Gary’s hunch about this canal was one of those precious signals that we often sense and so give direction to important decisions in life. For the moment though she was keeping to herself the incredible discovery that she had made the night before in a book in her brother’s extensive library. Furthermore her intuition established that they were on the right track, though in its present state the tow path was in dire need of restoration. In places the surface had crumbled into gravelly rubble almost disguised by the encroaching high grass and weeds.
(Note: This may not be the case, just a little embroidering to the story. If any reader is close enough to Hackney/Bow to go and check, I will be only too pleased to give a more accurate description.)
“I feel so sure that we’ll learn something along the way,” she told Gary. Ron had insisted on coming with them on the walk until he discovered that it would not only be a one and a half kilometre hike along the side of the canal, but also without a car waiting at the other end they would need to walk the whole way back again. They were already on their way to Hackney with Ron driving his car, for Kate had so far relied on taxis whilst in London, and though Gary’s suspension was long past he never carried his licence in his pyjamas.
“Be it as it may,” Ron put it to them, “extended and over use of shank’s pony is not my strong point. I do not doubt that there may be facilities by the wayside where one will be able to pause for a while. However I did have some idle moments before we partook of breakfast this morning to examine a map of the district that is intersected by this waterway and my conclusion is that the tow path is on the wrong side. All establishments trading for passing custom and offering refreshments to the said perambulators are south of the navigation. Consequently I have no objection to waiting for you at the Old Ford Lock on the Regent’s Canal.”
Kate smiled and chided him, “Now Ron it is far too early in the day for you to be even thinking of bevies. Never mind, you will be the first to know should we have some success.”
“Success in what?” Ron frowned and the more he thought of it he couldn’t see what such an exploration could possibly achieve.
“I wish I could say for certain,” she replied. “We might just get to the bottom of this time travel thing and that would be a big advance for science. If not, then we are putting Gary’s mind at rest about this canal.” Kate dug into the canvass shoulder bag she had brought with her, and then produced a small book. “I found this on Michael’s bookshelves along with another which contains a big clue to what is going on.” Tapping the book in hand she went on, “I believe very much in signs and for this to leap out at me the way it did has to be telling us something.
Kate read out the title, “Walking Canals.” She got straight to the point, “Here we are about to investigate a canal walk, and when I flicked this book open I was reading the large letters of the title of the second chapter, ‘WALKING THROUGH TIME’. That’s not all, for a little further on we have an outline map showing how the Hertford Union lies between the Regent’s Canal and the River Lee.
(Note: This book is edited by Ronald Russell and was published in 1984.)
Ron had just pulled up near a bridge over the River Lee, but keeping his hands on the wheel while nodding his head, he gave his opinion in an all knowing way, “Yes, this was to be expected, a typical harbinger heralding from an inter-dimensional entity a sign, not as may be feared a warning, but verging towards a kind direction.” But Kate and Gary hardly heard him and certainly didn’t try to fathom out what he was talking about this time. Besides they could see that he was going to launch into yet another round of wisecracks at Gary’s expense with more reminders that his friend was now in the same position as was Ron himself and Xena Princess.
The path down from the road bridge took the pair directly on to the towpath beside the Lee. It was then only a matter of a few steps before they rounded the corner where Canal joined River. So here it was but so very different from those years ago, or was it really only yesterday when he and Phoebe had strolled that way. Gary had to stop and remember as this and so many other thoughts ran through his mind. Seeing his hesitation, Kate asked, “Are you getting something?”
He shook his head and said, “It’s all so different. True we never came this far, just strolled up to the first lock from the Regent’s and watched the boats go down in the chamber and then as the bottom gates opened it was like something new happening to the whole world. It was as if the boat was carrying more than timber but taking us with it into the new beyond. Even the sun shone brighter once the gates were open, even though the footbridge at the bottom end blocked it out and diffused the rays through the rails and overhanging trees in fine lines as bright as the trail of a firework.” He was quiet for a while and Kate waited not wanting to shatter his memories with even a whisper.
“Once we walked as far as the middle lock. It was so different. It didn’t have the magic feeling of the upper lock though there was one thing we liked. When a boat left the lock the put-put-put sound of its engine, echoed when the front end went under the road bridge.
(Note: The stern of a Narrow Boat is known as the front end.)
Gary’s mood changed suddenly as he took in the monstrosities to each side of the waterway. “Where did they all come from?” he complained, pointing to the long large warehouses and factories on their left, “And Those?” he moaned with a wave of his hand towards the tall flats and homes on the opposite canal bank. “In 1946 there was....”
Kate didn’t let him finish. “Try and clear those memories for a while, Gary. Concentrate on what you were feeling with Phoebe by your side. You were doing so well when you brought the lock and the boats into the picture.”
He didn’t need any encouragement, it had all been so beautiful and stimulating the intensity of the moment back then was having an effect. Kate could was very much aware of it too. It all flooded out from his inner soul as they strolled along the way.
SCENE – The Club Room at the Turk’s Head in a parallel dimension.
“Have you got it right this time, Terry?” The question came from Sir Francis who was really the main author and man behind the scene now being played out before them over the table surface. Again it was just amazingly realistic, and it was. For the participants on the holographic stage there was only the world they were living in.
After an encouraging, “It looks like the transfers will operate from now on according to the co-ordinates in the crystals” from Terry, Sir Francis Bacon turned to address the writers cum producers who were from all appearances more interested in what was happening before them than in any of the technical fine points.
“As you know time and movements are determined to some extent by the main story line although each player retains a wide range of choice and can alter the main path of the play as long as the end outcome remains the same. It only takes some strongly decided deliberation in a brain to energise the required frequencies in the crystals via nerve endings in the fingers. As we have just demonstrated the string of co-ordinates then need a converter, disguised this time as a necklace to send them on their way to our planet’s core crystal where they are magnified and converted before transmitting back to the required time, place, dimensional layer and universe on the surface. The layers themselves occupy the same fine space as one another, though there are billions of them.
To put it more succinctly the Duckett’s Passage portals in the ‘Goodnight Sweetheart’ series, were just a temporary static fix until such time as the main system came back into operation. We are testing it out now and this experiment will also fit nicely into the story you have been witnessing. Hopefully the old Duckett’s Passage will be brought back into use once more allowing fixed time transfers of sizeable goods.”
Francis’s attention was drawn to a puzzled Ronnie Barker whose thoughts were asking ‘Why?’ Harry Corbett sitting next to him raised his eyes in desperation while muttering, “He was just the same when we were doing ‘The Bargee’ story.”
“Nevertheless a good question, Ronnie,” said Francis vocally for everybody else’s satisfaction. “We all know that the property of time like everything else is circular and not linear. Human ingenuity and invention is admirable but at many times it isn’t capable of thinking things all the way through to a perfected advance. The computer age is a good example. They may have been stuck for an eternity before arriving at the precision instruments needed urgently for the serious problems that are not far ahead in the main Earth story. Indeed it took nearly a century to get much further than the Babbage engine. So here and there we have to have a kick start and that is best done by sending ideas back from a future point in the circle of time to the few great minds ready to invent them earlier than would otherwise happen.
Ideas are heavy freight. The temporary fix was able to move small ideas such as a music revolution and easier clothing such as tights instead of stockings and suspenders, with Gary’s help. Just wait and see what we shall be able to do when loads of heavy dreams can be carried back in time. They’ll need a bit of disguising but rest assured the first transport is on its way.”
The long ray pointer in Francis’s hand was now aimed straight into the moving hologram display drawing every club member to the two figures walking casually and getting ever closer to the invisible doorway that lay between infinite numbers of time continuums.
SCENE – The Towpath of the Hertford Union Canal
Though short in length the two strollers were in no hurry to get to the Regent’s Canal end of the Cut. Progress was made all the slower by Kate frequently stopping to check her energy meters and discern whether there was any change in Gary’s expression. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to keep bothering him with the same question. She knew that she would be able to tell from his face if something undue was or was about to happen from his demeanour even when Gary himself wasn’t aware of it.
They had passed the middle lock and were nearing the upper lock when the first and most unexpected sounds were heard. Kate had already stopped once more. The needle on her hand held meter had swung to the maximum so fast she hardly saw it move. She didn’t need to say a word, but simply held it in her outstretched hand so that Gary could see for himself.
His quizzical stare back lasted only an instant for they could both now hear clearly a clopping sound of what had to be a slow moving horse. They were so close to the lock but as long as the bottom gates remained closed they could only tell by the rush of water through the gate paddles that the lock was emptying and something was coming. The trees shielded the strong sun so it was hard to see what was coming down the slope of the towpath that skirted the far side and to the right of the long beam extending from the lock gate.
“There’s something I had better tell you, Gary.” Kate was in a hurry to tell him what she had discovered, the better to prepare him for whatever it was now approaching.
“It wasn’t always known as the Hertford Union. When it was opened in 1830 it was known as Duckett’s Cut or Passage because it was built by Sir George Duckett whose father’s real name was Jackson and a friend of Lord Nelson. But about 1850 they built a dam across the Canal to stop navigation. The reason given was that they were losing water to the River Lee which seems unreal because then the Canal couldn’t make money. It may have been because boats were disappearing, something they had to keep quiet.”
Her last words faded as she drew in a long breath and gasped, for right in front of them was a huge Shire horse with long white hairy bushes over fetlocks and pasterns. When the Bargee came into view they were both shocked not just by his unusual dress but by the eyes and cheeks which were unmistakeably those of Reg Deadman.
Gary had already seen three different versions of his 1940’s friend and should have been used to this new manifestation. However he looked so comical this time wearing a Stove Pipe hat, and a pale green waistcoat that was decorated with trees and birds. Yet at the same time he was so serious what with sporting not a beard this time, but a magnificent moustache that curled far to the side of each of his cheeks.
Kate though had never met any of the other Reg’s. Her surprise was on its way. The Bargee halted with his horse, tethering it to a post while he ran up the steps to sit on the beam and walk it backwards until the gate swung open to release his narrow boat. That done he looked Kate and Gary up and down obviously puzzled by their 20th century clothing, and then hitching up his one horse power to his boat he looked at them and gave a cheery greeting before starting on his way once more with horse and boat in tow.
“You must be an ancestor,” Gary blurted out, but the Bargee didn’t hear him. He was already well on his way with the horse clopping its hooves down heavily as before. Nor did the Bargee notice the burst of sudden laughter from Gary when he stopped for a second, spread his knees apart, bending them at the same time. This was done almost without stopping for the horse went cloppety on.
“We run them in, We run them in, for we’re the bold gendarmes,” sang Gary laughingly, “so that’s where that came from.”
He was cut short by a competitive outburst from Kate who was more interested in watching the narrow boat slide past. It was fully laden though whatever cargo it carried was well covered with canvas sheeting. The painted cabin with small chimney stack was abreast of her, and there at the tiller was a very chubby blousy woman, replete with scarf wrapped round her head. There was no mistaking the face though. It was Ron down to a 'T'.
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Post by malcolm on Jul 11, 2012 4:39:31 GMT -5
The Old Ford Upper Lock on Duckett's Passage You can study the whole canal by googling for the Hertford Union and then a Google satellite map will also give a good idea of how it looks today. Attachments:
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Post by malcolm on Jul 12, 2012 1:20:10 GMT -5
The Bargee Reginald Deadman the First Attachments:
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Post by malcolm on Jul 14, 2012 3:45:05 GMT -5
To Continue:
The Narrow Boat had hardly cleared the lock chamber when Reginald Deadman brought the horse to a halt. “Whoa there old fellow, it’s happening again.” Deftly letting loose the tow rope, his wife Rose then steered the boat while it still had some way on and could drift up to the bank of the canal.
The previous time Reginald was referring to had been a mere four decade time jump into an era when the first steam boats were on the cut. For a mid-nineteenth century couple it was terrifying, coming face to face with the monster when they emerged from the very same lock that time, and more so when the other boatman let loose an almighty warning HOOT.
Up to that point, Kate had dismissed the arrival of the horse boat and its crew in her mind as the activity of some keen traditionalists. Gary had an inkling that something extraordinary and akin to his own displacements was taking place. As it was the two of them were curiously wondering why the boat had been brought to a standstill. Rose at the tiller with its most decorative and gleaming white Turk’s Head was not that far past them, so they could hardly miss what she was calling out to her ever bewildered spouse.
“Sumpin’ ain’t right, you old dolt, where you brung us this time?”
Leaving the horse to munch on the overgrown grass at the side of the path, the Bargee obediently made his way back to hear all the better what Rose was saying. Giving Kate and Gary a knowing smile as he passed by them, he kept his voice low, “Got to hear her out and keep her happy.”
Once her faithful husband was within close range she began, “Them ‘ouses cross the Cut ain’t like anything I’ve seen before. Got no chimbleys for a start, so ‘ow they gonna keep warm and ow they gonna cook their vitals, eh?” There was no stopping Rose once she had started. Reginald merely smiled and tilted his head to show he was paying attention while the other two weren’t sure whether they were expected to voice their opinions.
“I wouldn’t mind a wager that that old mate of yours, Isambard Kingdom got something to do with it.” Hearing his name a child of some seven years old peered out from the tiny cabin doors, and then withdrew when he saw that it was just his mother launching into some new diatribe aimed at his father.
“If it ‘adn’t bin for that Thames Tunnel, not much better than a sewer I tells ye, we would be livin’ in one of them there ‘ouses oursels. But oh no, nearly got drowned the pair of ye and that was all our savins’ down the drain. Me pregnant at the time too and not a penny back in earnings from your crazy friend. Call it the eighth wonder of the world, I ask ye. The only wonder is why so many people paid to see it, and did we get any of it? Not a Sausage, Reginald Deadman. Yet you go an’ name our one and only after the son of a man who spent time in debtor’s prison. Then there was ‘is mother, nearly ‘ad er ead cut orf she did.”
(Note: Sophia Kingdom was accused of being an English spy when studying French in Rouen. She was saved by the fall of Robespierre.)
Reginald shielded the side of his mouth from Rose, who wouldn’t have noticed anyway that he was whispering to Kate and Gary, “Better let her carry on. Get it out of her system so to speak. It always goes the same way.”
“Not that I would want to live in a ‘ouse with no chimbley pot, mind ye and wot would a common man like you do with all that living room. You would be lost outside of our little cubbyhole on the Cut. Just look at ye standin’ gawpin’ at the heavens and them two beside ye ain’t much better, not with her wearing a man’s pants and him in some fancy stage costume. Now there’s another low class lot wot with all their prancin’ about and fancyin’ themsells. So wot are you goin’ to do about it, Reginald Deadman?”
Rose was well and truly fired up and would have never stopped until the sun went down if the Bargee hadn’t winked at the strangely attired pair, then with a shrug of his shoulders walked back to the horse. One quick slap on the buttocks and the great magnificent creature was on its way again.
The only acknowledgement the abandoned Rose received from her man was a quick shout, “Can’t turn round here, we’ll have to go on to the Lee, if the river is still there.”
Kate and Gary could only watch as Rose caught hold of the tiller quickly to bring the back end bows out into the main course of the canal.
The young woman was first to break the silence. “Either those two have come through a time portal, or we have just been treated to a first class performance. But where’s the camera crew or any audience?” Then she couldn’t help but laugh as she thought about Rose’s likeness to Ron and both of them victims of verbal diarrhoea, explaining her mirth, “They’ve got to be related, perhaps cousins many times removed? Although we have on the one hand somebody whose English is crude and sporadic while the other knows his dictionary but ends up confusing himself.”
“Yes,” Gary agreed and did you see how the boy reacted. With a name like Isambard, he just has to be...” Then noting that Kathy didn’t know what he was getting at, he told her all about the Isambard Deadman he had met when he landed up in 1881.
“Then he would have been about the right age and that confirms it.” Kate was quite excited now that she was witness to real living people right out of the early 1850’s. Gary was about to resume the walk except that Kate tugged his sleeve saying, “Let’s wait. They’ve got to come back this way. You heard him say that they’ll turn the boat when they get to the Lee.”
“Yes,” Gary acknowledged, “but what about Ron? He might wonder if we’ve fallen into the canal.”
“Chances are,” Kate suggested, “he’s found the Fat Cat Cafe Bar and is sitting happily chatting up some unfortunate young lady. Or, he may be making his way up to meet us at this very moment. More seriously though, did you see the name of the boat?”
“Yes I did,” Gary admitted, “Emerald Crystal”.
He was about to say more when he suddenly realised that the said boat was on a collision course, not so much in the accident sense as one that could have devastating effects upon the world they lived in. “Wait here”, he shouted as he ran back along the towpath, “I’ve got to stop them.”
Gary reached Reginald not a moment too late. He didn’t even have time to be amused at The Bargee’s weird walk of two or three steps and then the comical knee bend before straightening up to keep pace with his horse. He was still catching his breath when the man from the past turned to see what all the fuss was about.
“There, there, Son. Hold your hosses. You’ll do yoursel a mischief.
Fortunately the middle lock which the Emerald Crystal and her crew were nearing was against them. That meant that before the Bargee could bow haul her into the lock he had first to make it ready. He was intent on doing just that and Gary thought it best to let him carry on for once the man rested and looked around, he might have seen more than he bargained for. As they were, a farther sight was obscured by an overpass carrying a lane. It was true that there were more houses on the other side of the canal though these seem to have been accepted by Reg and Rose, quite possibly because they were complete with ‘chimbleys’.
Having closed the bottom gates and opened all upper gate and side paddles he turned and put his questions to Gary, “So what’s bothering you, fellow me lad? Trouble with the missus is it?”
“Nothing like that.” Gary was desperately searching for the right words and working out how he might persuade the Bargee to retire with his wife to their little cabin for as long as it would take to get the vessel to the Lee and back again.
“No it’s you and your good lady I’m concerned about.” Then under his breath and to himself he whispered, ‘Think of something, quickly. Come on Gary Sparrow, you’ve got out of worse than this before.”
“Oh, she’s not good, well not if she can help it. Given me a clip across the lugs many a time that one ‘as. Now wot was that you were saying.”
Gary floundered now dreadfully looking for anything that could save the looming circumstances from turning yet more difficult to explain away to two people who so clearly should not be there. He was granted a little more time just then as they both spotted Kate hurrying up the tow path to join them.
“Ah here she is, he smiled with some relief.” No more was said until Kate finally got near enough for Gary to whisper to her, “Good girl, we’ve got to keep them here. No, we’ve got to get them both into the cabin with the boy and keep them there until we can get this boat turned and sent back to where it came from.”
Turning to the Bargee Gary tried his familiar warming grin, yet clenched his teeth, spluttering a little until he came up with another saver, “Well when we were walking by here earlier on, there was...” He was stuck for a moment, then tossing his eyes and head up a little he came up with a quick excuse, “there was...well there was a bit of a barney, and we should let it calm down first. Yes that’s it, if you turn up there now, they might think you’re taking sides, and well, you’re...” Gary was going to say ‘good’ again, but held back just in time. “Er you’re fine companion, might get hurt.”
The thought of anyone taking on Rose was too much for Reginald. “Ho ho,” he laughed. “Ain’t nobody goin’ to get tangled with that one. Besides we only took to the Cut ten years ago. Afore that I was one of the first Peelers.”
Gary grinned broadly, “I know, I watched you walking.”
“Watched me walking?” Reg queried, “Wot’s there in my walkin’?”
“Never mind, Reg.” Gary knew from past experience that pursuing an exchange beyond simple statements would only make the man more confused.
“Ere, Sonny Jim, ow d’you know me name?”
“Just a lucky guess, Reg. Perhaps because you look like a Reg.”
The Bargee removed his high stove pipe hat and thrust his hand into a greying bushy top in a fruitless attempt to scratch his puzzled head. “Look like a Reg, now what does himself mean by that, I ask ye.”
Providentially for Gary and Kate, the fazed poor fellow saw that the chamber was full and the nearside gate could be opened. The operation was all the easier for once the water level between lock and pound was level the gates drifted slightly apart on their own. Consequently there was sufficient opening for the narrow boat to be manoeuvred and hauled into the lock. Seconds later, Reg had the gates almost closed.
There was a rattling noise from the far end for Reg had raced down to engage the ratchets with his windlass and so free and let loose the pinions. The gate paddles dropped open and a miniature but very forceful waterfall surged through. The upper gates locked fast with the pressure of water in the pound and the boat began to lower in the chamber.
Gary had to act fast. “Quick on to the boat Reg, leave it to me.”
“Not on your Nelly,” protested Reg. But it was Kate who saved the situation. Her pleading eyes were more than the tender hearted man could resist especially when she reassured him that Gary knew what he was doing and that it was absolutely essential that the Captain went down with his boat, in a manner of speaking.
Somewhat confused, Reg obeyed and jumped down on to the lowering stern while it was still within easy reach.
“Good Girl,” said a much relieved Gary. “But we still have to get them hidden out of sight. It isn’t just the big warehouses and tall flats they mustn’t see. There’s a much bigger problem. Remember all those boats moored this side of the canal near the Lee? Well Reg’s horse would never be able to tow their boat past that lot. Even worse, there’s bound to be a few people on board and if any of them were to talk to Reg or Rose anything might happen. It could change a big chunk of history.”
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Post by malcolm on Jul 14, 2012 3:56:16 GMT -5
Something odd happened tonight, and it isn't the first time. When writing my novel, at least two scenes appeared in a paper and on tv within hours of writing up the descriptions. It was uncanny especially with one character where the very odd suit was the same down to colour of jacket, pants and bonnet.
Tonight while having our evening meal we had the family room tv on and suddenly I heard the presenter saying the name of the vessel - Scenic CRYSTAL.
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Post by malcolm on Jul 16, 2012 1:13:17 GMT -5
Continued...Again:-)
“I see what you mean,” nodded Kate. “I didn’t see any point in hanging around by the other lock, and it looks like you really do need my help here.” Kate omitted to mention that the prospect of Ron catching up with her and very likely subjecting her to a long boring monologue was the main spur for her decision to see what was going on at the middle lock.
“Better be ready to open the gates”, Reg called up to them. That was enough to push Gary into action. “Have you got a mobile phone with you, Kate?”
Seeing where he was going with that she protested, “But that will be just as much of a shock.”
“Not so much as might happen if they see what lies beyond the small overpass. You’ll think of something to explain the mobile away. Now do you think you can manage to get down there on board the boat?”
Kate’s look said it all and then she agilely dropped down on to the roof of the cabin, carefully avoiding the smoking chimney flue and painted pot. Another swift jump and she was on the narrow strip of decking that ran the length of the boat, holding on to the handrail on the edge of the cabin roof. There was little room on the stern an area so small that Rose had retired inside the cabin when Reg took over at the tiller.
The astonished Bargee was thunder struck with mouth agape at the sight of a woman not only dressed like a man but conducting herself in such a masculine manner.
“Cor, stone a crow. You shouldn’t be doing things like that young lady.”
“Where I come from,” Kate explained, “a woman has to be prepared to meet every situation.”
“And where would that be?” Reg was even more mystified at her outlandish goings on.
Kate tapped her nose and whispered confidentially, “Shh, can’t say too much, there might be Russians listening. Suffice to say we have just come from St.Petersburg and they might be following us.”
“Ah yes,” acknowledged an all-knowing Reg, tapping his nose. The secrecy ruse worked well for now Kate was able to usher Reg into the small living space that was the water gypsy’s’ home. The lad and his mother were seated on the port to starboard bed at the far end leaving Reg seated on the side bench facing the stove. There was hardly room for Kate to get inside and in any case she preferred to crouch down outside and talk to the family through the open cabin doors.
As luck would have it Kate’s mobile was one of the first cell phones to incorporate a camera. Though not advanced enough to record an image in the dim light within the cabin she was able to take a reasonable photo of the tiller and it’s Turk’s head rope work.
Squeezing herself down onto the lower step within the cabin she held her mobile out for Reg to take a closer look.
“Blimey.” Reg’s eyes were wide with surprise. “That’s just like our stern deck. Come to think of it there’s many a boat on the Cut carrying a three strand braided monkey’s paw on their tiller. Ain’t seen any painting set in a glass frame like that though. Here ‘take a gander at that, Ma.” Satisfied that all three of the family were fully occupied, for a while at least with the curiosity Kate settled herself on to the top step within the cabin.
As soon as Gary saw Reg safely inside the cabin he ran as fast as he could to find a boat that could come to the rescue and tow the narrow boat down to the Lee and back. He had no sooner reached the other side of the bridge at the tail end of the lock when he recognised how close to disaster they had come.
Right in front of him was a bridge that most definitely would not have been there in the Bargee’s time. Had it been some small suburban cross over carrying infrequent traffic they might not have noticed. The construction rearing up before him was not just massive but roaring with the noise of heavy trucks whizzing by at speeds anyone from the 19th century could hardly visualise. Gary had come face to face with one small section of the East Cross Route.
Fortune was with him that day. The very first boat moored beyond the lower lock was a short half length cruiser and more than that an imposing white curly haired man was fiddling about on the stern. Gary skidded to a halt, out of breath and gasping just as much by the impressive clothes the man was wearing. He wore a green velvet jacket with thin red piping along the collar edges, a white frilly shirt almost hidden by the large red cravat. Without a doubt Ted Cocteau might have stepped right out of the Edwardian era.
“It’s a bit of an emergency,” Gary blurted out.
“Well then,” said Ted, “you had better come aboard and tell us all about it.” The ‘us’ became evident for at the sound of voices, a young lady’s head emerged from the cabin, her expression asking, “What’s the fuss?”
Gary had one foot on the riding board when he took in the very strange housing that took up much of the freeboard and served as cabin, engine house and living space for its owner. Even at a cursory glance one couldn’t escape its likeness to one of the old blue police boxes, except that if so then it was lying on its side. Sure enough the double framed windows were one above the other at the far end, and he could even make out the words,” Police Box” displayed sideways.
Ted held out a helping hand to help Gary to step up on to his deck. He hardly knew where to start. There was nothing better than the truth, yet how would that go down.
“It’s a matter of Time,” he began.
“Then you’ve come to the right place”, said Ted as he introduced himself, but as he frequently did, dropping the first letter of his surname for effect, “I’m Ted ‘Octeau”.
Gary’s face was a picture with his mouth wide open and the same silly smile he had when he stumbled into the 1940’s bank to buy shares and then found look a like’s from Dad’s Army.
“So you’re the Doctor”, he grinned.
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Post by malcolm on Jul 16, 2012 1:22:51 GMT -5
Well I thought it was funny, anyway.
In case anyone is wondering about the Russian Spies, that would have struck home with the Bargee as it was something that people talked about. The Russian Spy Service began about 1829 and the boat had crossed over from around 1850. Things did reach a head in 1855 when Britain despatched the Light Brigade to the Crimea.
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Post by malcolm on Jul 18, 2012 20:25:57 GMT -5
Bit of a time delay in bringing to you the next part of the sequel. We've been having a few distractions what with a faulty computer connection, and a fair bit of research when it comes to the science that governs the frequencies of different crystals. All very important as far as the Doctor, well Ted Cocteau, is concerned, as we shall see.
Then there has to be some purpose behind the movement of larger quantities through time. Few ideas on that have come to mind.
Who (not the Doctor) knows we might just be discovering how to travel through time for real.
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Post by malcolm on Jul 20, 2012 3:05:21 GMT -5
Continued:
SCENE – PHOEBE AND GARY’S APARTMENT 1946
We left Phoebe/Yvonne in her Mayfair apartment most disturbed at Gary’s absence.
“So what are we going to do now? Wait for him to turn up out of the blue like he used to when he felt like it?” Phoebe was still able to think for herself as if she were a separate awareness from Yvonne who was as much a part of her whole make-up as she was herself.
“No, not this time. No matter where he is we, I mean I am going to track you down, Gary Sparrow, whether you have wandered out into the hall and lost your way, or taken another time trip. Two can play that game now.” Yvonne mused for a while before smiling and thinking, “Sorry Phoebe perhaps that should be ‘three’.”
Her deliberations were abruptly suspended for the time being by a gentle knock on the door. “Just a minute,” she called out realising that her nightie was not adequate no matter who might be calling. Quickly donning a dressing gown she hurried back to open the door.
Noel was taken back for a moment fully expecting to see Phoebe for it was it not her familiar voice he had just heard? “I’m sorry,” he flustered; Ay quaite believed that it would be my dear friend, Phoebe at home at this hour.” He was going to add that he was unaware that the Sparrows had visitors until he recognised that it actually was Phoebe facing him and about to invite him in.
“This is very odd, dear lady.” Noel was rarely at a loss no matter what unusual situation was challenging him. The confusion he was feeling was so foreign to his staid British nature. “You must excuse me Phoebe, for a moment I could have sworn that I was seeing someone else.” Entering the room Noel held out a small bowl which he had so far hidden from view behind his back.
“I only intended cadging a few grains of sugar to sweeten my morning infusion. May I?”
Each consonant and vowel he voiced was expressed and stressed meticulously as was everything with Noel, whether in speech, dress or manner.
Phoebe smiled, “You could say I have somebody with me right now, Noel. If you have a little spare time I do need to talk to you. Perhaps you’ll have a cuppa with me. I was just going to put the kettle on.”
“I always have time for you sweetie.” Noel looked around the room and sat himself down, wondering who the visitor might be. “Isn’t Gary up and about yet?” he called out for Phoebe had already made her way into the kitchen.
“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” she said popping her head round the door. Being quite an expert on relationships having written so many farces on the subject, Noel conjectured that whatever was bothering Phoebe would come as no surprise.
He waited patiently for her to return, whimsically pondering over a multitude of matters that were sure to fill his day. Then once a tray with teapot, crockery, sugar and milk was unloaded on to the coffee table he politely asked, “Shall I be mother?”
“I take it then that Gary, bless him, has taken leave of absence?”
“I should have expected it,” she nodded, “but there is so much more.”
Phoebe/Yvonne had decided that the only way to make clear to him her own condition was to tell all. If anyone would be able to understand it would be Noel whose play “Blithe Spirit” had just been such a long running hit in the Theatre.
Pinching his lips together as a form of question he held out his hands palms upwards in a gesture which said, ‘please go ahead, I’m listening’.
It was Yvonne who took the plunge and began with, “Well Gary is a time traveller and I’ve followed him here.”
Noel’s keen hearing and appreciation of each dialect of the English language picked up the Lancashire accent tinged with a bit of Scouse. He frowned as he interrupted her, “You are a delightful singer and entertainer, my dear, but you’re not that good an actress, Phoebe, to take on a northern part so well. Furthermore you have me intrigued. Somehow I cannot imagine that you have just discovered that Gary is a traveller in the sales sense with a leaning towards the world of horology.”
“Ooh you are a one with words, Noel,” said Phoebe butting in. “Wos ‘horror lodgee?”
“He’s talking about clocks,” said Yvonne.
“Oh my word,” remarked Noel. “Elvira is more than a figment of my dramatic skills. Ah but no, I detect the north again. Am I correct?”
“And I’m proud of it,” she replied in confirmation. “Have you ever considered it possible that our real selves, you know, what we really are inside, remains the same in future lives?” The question itself would have had the average person doubting her sanity, but such an idea was right down Noel’s alley.”
“Ah yes,” he acknowledged. “It did cross my mind to bring Ruth and Elvira together in some such manner. I wasn’t sure that the world is ready yet for such enlightenment and so I left them as two separate spirits for the time being. Perhaps one day we may revise the finale, when more is known about split personalities. But do go on. I am listening to a different Phoebe, am I not?”
At that moment Noel was stunned again as he had been when Yvonne opened the door. He could almost see the blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. Only it was over in an instant.
“I’m Yvonne,” she told him at last. Gary and I are from a time some fifty years into your future. I had no idea that he had found a way back to the 1940’s and met Phoebe until he got stranded in your time.”
Noel sat listening patiently, murmuring from time to time, “Ah that explains so much,” and other comments such as “Of Course,” without disturbing the flow of the implausible tale from a lady he really couldn’t see other than through Phoebe’s eyes.
Of course Yvonne had to bring Ron into the account and when she described his loquacious wanderings Noel smiled and commented, “I would so much like to meet your friend, Ron.” She had just gone through the events that had caused her own time jump and merging as one with Phoebe, when there was another knock at the door. This time it was none other than Reg who breezed in with a cheery, ‘Wotcha folks’. Then noting Noel’s presence, he added, “I’ve got one or two for you too, Mr. Coward”.
It was clear from the letters held out in his hands what he was referring to, though a mischievous Phoebe had to ask, “What have you got, Reg? Wouldn’t be sixpence by any chance, lucky lucky sixpence?”
“Eh, no,” said a very serious faced Reg. “But funny you should say that, cos my Margie used to say...or was it Minnie...no it must have been Margie said it...cos I found it in Ernest Street.” Reg stood scratching his head for a moment then went on, “No I picked it up in Shandy Street and Minnie would never go that far down White Horse Lane.”
Though Noel was silently amused at Reg’s deliberations it was all too much for Phoebe who just had to stop him. “Oh never mind, Reg, See a Sixpence pick it up and all day long you’ll ‘ave good luck, alright?”
“Eeeh,” grinned Reg, you knew what I was going to say all the time. Did she tell you too?”
“Never mind,” said Noel, just deliver the letters.
“Oh right. Nearly forgot why I came up.” Reg beamed and then noticing the teapot added, “Mind if I grab a cup?”
They were quite used to Reg sidling up and listening in, and they didn’t mind since after all he had been there for Phoebe through thick and thin. Yvonne was now so much a part of Phoebe that she knew too that no matter how strange her story it would be misconstrued by Reg as something quite natural and ordinary. Even if he were to repeat any part of it nobody would take him seriously.
It was Noel who linked Gary’s disappearance to the same paranormal forces that had caused Yvonne’s shift in time; especially when the necklace and ruby crystal was mentioned and a quick search established that those articles had gone as well.
“I think what you are suggesting then,” Yvonne observed, “is that Gary is back in 2000 and we are as far apart as we were before. “That’s another thing; I’ve got to get home. There’s my business to see to and who knows what Gary might get up to if Ron thinks up some new mad venture.”
“Wot about me, then?” Phoebe though understanding her other self’s feeling of loss and their combined longing for Gary, felt locked into her life and new found career in the 1940’s. “I’ve got little Michael here. I’m not going to abandon our son.”
“There’s me too,” Reg reminded them, though he was utterly at sea with what was being discussed.
His face was screwed up as he tried to fathom out the meaning of 2000. “Two thousand, is that one of Gary’s codes.”
“No, it isn’t.” Now Yvonne was laughing. “His code for 2000 is Y2K.” She really thought that would shut him up for a while as he puzzled over it. She was wrong.
“Why Too Kay,” he said slowly stressing each word as if each had a separate meaning he hadn’t caught on to yet. Then brightening up, he said excitedly, “Ah I know. Why Tokay!” Reg really thought he was on to something and it had to have something to do with Noel.
Turning to Noel, Reg asked him “That’s one of yours, Mr Coward?”
“And you are correct, Reg. It is sung by Carl in my operetta, ‘Bitter Sweet’.”
“Mum’s the word, then,” said an all knowing Reg tapping his nose in some pretence of having caught on to the meaning of the code.
Yvonne considered pointing out to the naive doorman that Tokay was also a wine but quickly thought better of it. Now that he appreciated the predicament of his friends Noel tried to reassure Yvonne for he could see that her situation was possibly the worse.
“We know that Gary will be with you again, Phoebe for Yvonne saw Gary with you in the photo album. I would concur that the photograph was taken with the intention of depositing an instruction for your other self, Yvonne in the future. That means that the gateway between your two worlds is still available and therefore you are not to worry. The main question is how available is it and for whom.”
They were all silent for a while. Reg was still wrestling with Gary’s Y2K code and what else it might mean. Phoebe/Yvonne just waited patiently aware that Noel had more in mind.
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