Twenty Tiny Tales

J. Bradley Elaine

Description

Twenty Tiny Tales is a collection of twenty-two moralistic, humorous and heart-warming short stories. Some are inspired by the freedom and music of the 1960s, others are tales about wildlife, birds, dogs, caravans- even motorcycles. Let the stories transport you to the rural settings of the West Coast of Scotland and Northumberland.'Flower Power' has all of the charm of the Sixties- a time of pacifism, love and euphoria, and follows the story of Clara and her florist business. 'The Museum of Childhood' follows Sadie, a twenty-two year old graduate who secured a temporary post at The Museum of Childhood, an old four storey building full of childhood related memorabilia, with a ghostly secret.Twenty Tiny Tales will appeal to dog lovers, and readers who enjoy emotional, moving reads with the power to transport you to an array of settings and characters. The stories feature captivating plots, alluring depictions of the characters involved and most have a unique, shocking twist.

Sujets

• Short story

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 07 août 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781838596880
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Copyright © 2019 Elaine J. Bradley

The moral right of the author has been asserted.


Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

These stories and their characters are purely fictitious, although some of the tales were inspired by small, actual and sometimes personal incidents.
Enjoy!


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ISBN 978 1838596 880

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.


Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

To my husband Ian for his support and encouragement to have these stories published.
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To Bill and Jenny Frost. Bill discovered Matador for me: a brilliant find, and Jenny has proof read all of my stories several times.
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To Joan and David Russell, my other proof readers, and to Karyl Quigley, my artist friend, who designed my book cover.
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Thank you all so much.
Contents
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The Museum of Childhood
Flower Power
Second Chance
Port Logie Story
A Friend in Need
A Debt Repaid
One Guid Turn Deserves Another
Dicing with Death
All in a Day’s Walk
One Step Too Far
They Shoot Rabbits Don’t They?
A Watertight Alibi
Amber Alert
Epiphany and Atonement
One Week Left
The Luck of the Devil
That’s What Friends Are For
The Revenge of Benj
The Power of Pain
Charity Begins At Home
Scoop The Pool
A Real Murder Mystery
The Museum of Childhood
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The Museum of Childhood was an old four-storey building set in the middle of the main street. It was well hidden among a mixture of pubs, eating places, and tourist shops, the latter of which contained a variety of tartan gifts, Loch Ness Monsters in various guises, flags of Scotland, shortbread and tablet. There was no “shop front” to the museum, just a narrow entrance opening inside to a small foyer and ticket counter. On the Royal Mile, even on cold, wet evenings there was always an abundance of passers-by. However, most people, unless they were tourists specifically looking for the museum, would pass it by without a glance. Even so it was open seven days a week for the tourist season, which was March to October, and only closed for two days midweek during the winter months.
Sadie, a twenty-two-year-old graduate, had secured a temporary post there, commencing at the beginning of October when the museum was less busy, the high season over and the children back to school. Her contract was to produce a new catalogue/brochure for the museum, which would include floor plans and showcase plans identifying specific exhibits of particular interest. There was no charge for entry to the museum and its viability relied upon grants and donations, so Sadie was also looking at ways to increase the popularity and profitability ensuring the future of the museum. She had spent her first week studying the existing material, walking the building floor after floor, measuring dimensions and poring over layouts and she currently had the basic floor plans, to scale, on her laptop.
She had enjoyed the last few weeks. Working largely alone, with occasional consultation meetings with key museum personnel, had been both interesting and challenging. She’d listened in to the guided tours given to school parties, and noted down the items that most interested the modern-day children. She had also documented the questions they had asked. As a result, Sadie had put forward suggestions for some new interactive activities using replicas of toys and classroom equipment from previous decades and generations. Her list so far included skipping ropes, tops and whips, yo-yos and a variety of dressing-up props with attire from bygone days. She was currently working on a 1940’s school environment, where visiting groups would be able to access a classroom and sit at the old student desks, use pens with nibs and loose ink, practise writing, use reading schemes of the day and learn songs: both those taught in music lessons and those sung in the schoolyard.
The next key stage of Sadie’s project was a cataloguing of each exhibit, precisely, with its position in the relevant display case, and a brief history and explanation of individual pieces. It was now late October and she had chosen to work on the two days when the museum was closed, to maximise her undisturbed time and enable her to sit in each room in turn with her laptop set up.
The quiet of the museum was strange after the frantic preceding days of half term, with visitors, old and young, milling about and a museum staff presence on every floor. It was tranquil now though and easier to set up her portable workstation exactly where she wanted it without being in anyone’s way, or impeding the progress of visitors to the museum.
The first day had been very productive and by 5pm Sadie was ready to call it a day. It was dark outside, as the clocks had changed to GMT the previous weekend, and once Sadie had switched the last light off, the interior of the museum was illuminated only by the dim security lights, which cast an eerie glow on the glass cases on the lower floor. Quickly Sadie stepped outside, laptop under her arm, locked the door and the outer shutter and hurried off towards the bright lights of the local eateries.
*
The following day, Sadie worked to a similar pattern, stopping only for a twenty-minute lunch break, and anxious to get back to her cataloguing. She had completed the plan and descriptions of items on the ground floor, which were baby and infant toys, teethers, prams, cradles, baths and clothing on one side of the room, and various mechanical toys of yester-year on the other. There were ancient machines, which required a coin (originally old currency, of course) to be inserted to display a scene, or play a tune. A Punch and Judy Tent showed lurid, caricatured puppets, which Sadie couldn’t help thinking would have terrified rather than amused its contemporary children. Grotesque!
When Sadie finally wound up for the day, it was 6.15 and she was absolutely starving. “Pizza Hut tonight,” she decided. She made a quick check of the whole floor. Once again the rest of the skeleton team had already left and for the first time that day Sadie was very much aware of the stillness of the building. As she flicked the main light switch, and was left standing alone in the semi-darkness, she glanced around at the strange shadows and reflections thrown by the dim lighting and the glass cases. She caught sight of a distorted face and jumped – stupid! It was only Mr Punch – reflected by the light, strangely warped as it shone on the showcase on the opposite wall. Still, Sadie shivered, it wasn’t a very pleasant sight. If she was a child, she really wouldn’t like Mr Punch. His face would give her nightmares, she was sure of it.
Sadie quickly stepped outside, locked the door and shutter, and made her way towards the streetlights and people! Strange that she should feel safer on the dark, and today damp, Royal Mile than in the warm comfort of the museum.
As she devoured her pizza and salad, Sadie thought about her tasks for the next day. The museum would be open to visitors again and she was sure that there was at least one school party booked in, so perhaps it would be better to work on the top floor where she would be less intrusive. The fourth floor was a long gallery with various tableaux along one side, so that visitors ascended the stair to it at one end, walked along the viewing corridor and down the steps at the other end. The gallery was dimly lit to create atmosphere, while the individual rooms were lit in a style appropriate to the era with Victorian and Edwardian types of lighting. Compared to the other floors, Sadie found it gloomy and just a bit oppressive.
Still, it had to be done!
*
The next day saw Sadie with a collapsible table and her laptop set up at one end of the fourth-floor gallery, where there were two 1940’s style classrooms. A grim-faced schoolteacher complete with mortar board and gown dominated the scene, standing beside his high desk which had a step up to it and was designed to command a view of every pupil in the classroom. Upon his desk were a large bottle of red ink, an inkwell, quills, three leather-bound books, a small globe and the school bell. On a hook at the side of the desk was hung the dreaded leather strap.
A chart picturing the leaves and fruits of various trees was mounted on one wall and a blackboard showing a lesson in cursive handwriting was attached to another wall, adjacent to a map of the world. The classroom clock hung behind the teacher’s desk.
Several rows of old, dark wood pupils’ desks faced that of the teacher. They were worn, and written and carved upon (a strapping offence for sure!) and were spread with open books, wooden rulers and pencils. The pupils’ seats were joined together: an uncomfortable-looking form of wood with iron legs. A geography lesson was in progress and an aged atlas was open on one desk. A couple of pupils were bent over the desk, quietly studying one of the books, and looking very demure and formal in shirts, ties and blazers.