Hey Guys;
After all the recent hype, I thought I'd better follow requests, and create a fan page on Facebook, especially for my 'Borough Boys' Series,
So here it is...
https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Borough-Boys/368938166555376
Please take a look, and the more 'LIKES' the better!
Thanks
Phil
Promoting an author writing Victorian crime and murder novels, with a timeline in 19th century Leicester -'The Borough Boys' series. Book one, 'Jack Ketch's Puppets', introducing Samson Shepherd. Book two, 'Death lurks in Cock Muck Hill'. Book three, 'Without Fear or Favour'. New works always in progress.
Sunday 31 March 2013
Saturday 30 March 2013
What a day. Thanks to all my readers!
At one point this afternoon, I got a message, all the way from Greece, announcing that my book was sitting at #72 in the Amazon 'Mystery' category, 1 place above James Herbert's 'Lair' and one below one of Lee Childs' novels.
Wow, I thought, listed with the best!
I went to look for myself and was shocked to find my book at #70, jointly, with Stieg Larrson, with 'The girl with the Dragon tattoo'.
I know it is the Amazon Kindle algorithms working, but boy, what a buzz!
The I got a review through from USA for 'Leicestershire Myth & Legend - in verse', which kindly referred to me as a 'Bard' and disappointment that I had not included more tales...
Days don't get much better than this!
Thanks so much!!!!!!!!!!! (I know I shouldn't but I did!!!!!!!)
Wow, I thought, listed with the best!
I went to look for myself and was shocked to find my book at #70, jointly, with Stieg Larrson, with 'The girl with the Dragon tattoo'.
I know it is the Amazon Kindle algorithms working, but boy, what a buzz!
The I got a review through from USA for 'Leicestershire Myth & Legend - in verse', which kindly referred to me as a 'Bard' and disappointment that I had not included more tales...
Days don't get much better than this!
Thanks so much!!!!!!!!!!! (I know I shouldn't but I did!!!!!!!)
Thank you to my new readers - a progress report
Hey Guys;
I would like to say a big thank you to those of you that have bought my book 'Jack Ketch's Puppets' so far this weekend.
As of five minutes ago, it was shown as #1,197 in the overall Kindle store, and more importantly, #74 in the category of 'Mysteries'.
For those of you who have not yet purchased it, it is available for no charge, up to and including Easter Monday, through Amazon KDP, or to borrow through their library service (prime members).
The link to the sales page can be found below;-
CLICK HERE
I would like to say a big thank you to those of you that have bought my book 'Jack Ketch's Puppets' so far this weekend.
As of five minutes ago, it was shown as #1,197 in the overall Kindle store, and more importantly, #74 in the category of 'Mysteries'.
For those of you who have not yet purchased it, it is available for no charge, up to and including Easter Monday, through Amazon KDP, or to borrow through their library service (prime members).
The link to the sales page can be found below;-
CLICK HERE
Friday 29 March 2013
Visit Leicester Guildhall and meet The Borough Boys
Hey guys;
For those of you who are in Leicester, or who may be visiting Leicester in the foreseeable future, may I make a recommendation to you.
My first novel, 'Jack Ketch's Puppets' which is on sale now, has a lot of its storyline centred on Leicester Guildhall, as it is now, and as then was 'Leicester Town Hall and Police Station'.
I went back myself a couple of weeks ago, and every room I went into, and outside in the courtyard, my characters flooded to me.
This is a beautiful old building, and full of character. Once you have read 'Jack Ketch's Puppets', pop in, and imagine the site as I have described it in 1850, and feel my characters - I am sure you will bump in to one or two!
'Jack Ketch's Puppets' out now. Free this weekend on Amazon KDP (Friday 29th March to Monday 1st April 2013 inclusive.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Jack-Ketchs-Puppets-Borough-ebook/dp/B00C0ZQTUS/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1364317134&sr=1-2
For those of you who are in Leicester, or who may be visiting Leicester in the foreseeable future, may I make a recommendation to you.
My first novel, 'Jack Ketch's Puppets' which is on sale now, has a lot of its storyline centred on Leicester Guildhall, as it is now, and as then was 'Leicester Town Hall and Police Station'.
I went back myself a couple of weeks ago, and every room I went into, and outside in the courtyard, my characters flooded to me.
This is a beautiful old building, and full of character. Once you have read 'Jack Ketch's Puppets', pop in, and imagine the site as I have described it in 1850, and feel my characters - I am sure you will bump in to one or two!
'Jack Ketch's Puppets' out now. Free this weekend on Amazon KDP (Friday 29th March to Monday 1st April 2013 inclusive.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Jack-Ketchs-Puppets-Borough-ebook/dp/B00C0ZQTUS/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1364317134&sr=1-2
Visit Leicester Guildhall and watch my characters come to life
Hey guys;
For those of you who are in Leicester, or who may be visiting Leicester in the foreseeable future, may I make a recommendation to you.
My first novel, 'Jack Ketch's Puppets' which is on sale now, has a lot of its storyline centred on Leicester Guildhall, as it is now, and as then was 'Leicester Town Hall and Police Station'.
I went back myself a couple of weeks ago, and every room I went into, and oustide in the courtyard, my characters flooded to me.
This is a beautiful old building, and full of character. Once you have read 'Jack Ketch's Puppets', pop in, and imagine the site as I have described it in 1850, and feel my characters - I am sure you will bump in to one or two!
'Jack Ketch's Puppets' out now. Free this weekend on Amazon KDP (Friday 29th March to Monday 1st April 2013 inclusive.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Jack-Ketchs-Puppets-Borough-ebook/dp/B00C0ZQTUS/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1364317134&sr=1-2
For those of you who are in Leicester, or who may be visiting Leicester in the foreseeable future, may I make a recommendation to you.
My first novel, 'Jack Ketch's Puppets' which is on sale now, has a lot of its storyline centred on Leicester Guildhall, as it is now, and as then was 'Leicester Town Hall and Police Station'.
I went back myself a couple of weeks ago, and every room I went into, and oustide in the courtyard, my characters flooded to me.
This is a beautiful old building, and full of character. Once you have read 'Jack Ketch's Puppets', pop in, and imagine the site as I have described it in 1850, and feel my characters - I am sure you will bump in to one or two!
'Jack Ketch's Puppets' out now. Free this weekend on Amazon KDP (Friday 29th March to Monday 1st April 2013 inclusive.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Jack-Ketchs-Puppets-Borough-ebook/dp/B00C0ZQTUS/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1364317134&sr=1-2
Tuesday 26 March 2013
My Author site on GOODREADS
Hey Guys;
For your information, I now have my own author site on Goodreads
The site can be found HERE
For your information, I now have my own author site on Goodreads
The site can be found HERE
Monday 25 March 2013
First review 'Jack Ketch's Puppets'...
Review of Jack Ketch’s Puppets
A blend of fictional story telling
interwoven with historical insight makes for an enthralling and interesting
read. This novel of crime and detection brings
to life a Victorian Leicester, with each page exposing the reader to an
increasing understanding of the environment of the time. The storyline reveals both goodness and
depravity of the human condition, with twists and surprises right through to
the end. I look forward to reading more
stories about the ‘good guy’ characters from this (first time) author.
JMA Beardmore
The wait is over...'Jack Ketch's Puppets' OUT NOW!
Hey guys;
After what has seemed like an eternity, and a particular long week of edit, after edit, after edit, and several final proof readings...
'Jack Ketch's Puppets', the first in my 'Borough Boys' series of novels based on Victorian
Crime fighters in Leicester, England, in 1850, is out from today.
Initially available through Createspace e-store - see link <CLICK HERE>
Shortly as a Paperback through Amazon.com; Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.Eur.
Also to follow through FeedARead for UK distribution purposes, shortly.
Also as an ebook through Mindle Direct Publishing (KDP) Select programme, to buy or lend...
I hope you enjoy, should you wish to buy or borrow!
After what has seemed like an eternity, and a particular long week of edit, after edit, after edit, and several final proof readings...
'Jack Ketch's Puppets', the first in my 'Borough Boys' series of novels based on Victorian
Crime fighters in Leicester, England, in 1850, is out from today.
Initially available through Createspace e-store - see link <CLICK HERE>
Shortly as a Paperback through Amazon.com; Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.Eur.
Also to follow through FeedARead for UK distribution purposes, shortly.
Also as an ebook through Mindle Direct Publishing (KDP) Select programme, to buy or lend...
I hope you enjoy, should you wish to buy or borrow!
Sunday 24 March 2013
Well done Createspace / Amazon KDP!
I was a little concerned, when using the 'Createspace' self-publishing process, that they recommended not just relying on proof reading of my first two books 'on-screen' or as PDF files, but to buy a hardcopy proof.
'Hello' I thought, just another way to make a few quid, in the publishing grinder! Also, a further delay in getting the book out there?
But no. I stand corrected.
When my beautiful new novel arrived, I was elated.
It was only when I started to turn the pages, that I realised that there was still much work still to do.
Why it did not look such an issue 'on screen'? I do not know. Perhaps it's my mild form of dyslexia, and I see things differently?
Whatever...the outcome has been for a major edit. Lots of silly punctuation fixes, and a major decision to 'prune' radically. I could see that there was still too much 'tell' and it needed cutting back, and it was not so evident electronically.
I have now just submitted a comprehensively edited version back for Createspace approval, and I am much happier with what will go on sale, as my 'First Edition'.
Well done Createspace and Amazon. A sensible step in the proofing process, and I would recommend it to anyone who thinks their 'on screen' proofing is sound!
'Hello' I thought, just another way to make a few quid, in the publishing grinder! Also, a further delay in getting the book out there?
But no. I stand corrected.
When my beautiful new novel arrived, I was elated.
It was only when I started to turn the pages, that I realised that there was still much work still to do.
Why it did not look such an issue 'on screen'? I do not know. Perhaps it's my mild form of dyslexia, and I see things differently?
Whatever...the outcome has been for a major edit. Lots of silly punctuation fixes, and a major decision to 'prune' radically. I could see that there was still too much 'tell' and it needed cutting back, and it was not so evident electronically.
I have now just submitted a comprehensively edited version back for Createspace approval, and I am much happier with what will go on sale, as my 'First Edition'.
Well done Createspace and Amazon. A sensible step in the proofing process, and I would recommend it to anyone who thinks their 'on screen' proofing is sound!
Saturday 16 March 2013
Another competition win this week! Poets of G+
Hey guys;
I have just found out that I have received the most votes this week, in Poets of G+ 'Prompt of the week', with my poem 'Killing Time' which you can find on my blog at...
http://1455bookcompany.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/killing-time.html
Thanks to the team at G+ for keeping these competitions alive and challenging!
I have just found out that I have received the most votes this week, in Poets of G+ 'Prompt of the week', with my poem 'Killing Time' which you can find on my blog at...
http://1455bookcompany.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/killing-time.html
Thanks to the team at G+ for keeping these competitions alive and challenging!
First of my new version 'Leicestershire Myth & Legend' arrives!
Having suffered a miserable afternoon at the hands of the Welsh (England lost at Rugby, if you didn't know), I was cheered immensely, when a white van man pulled up, and delivered a package.
Surely not? Earliest delivery due after 21st March...
But yes, my new version 'Leicestershire Myth & Legend' in paperback for proofing!
Absolutely stunning. Looks far better than in the preview from Createspace!
One minor manufacturing fix and that's it!
Yo! Can't wait!
Surely not? Earliest delivery due after 21st March...
But yes, my new version 'Leicestershire Myth & Legend' in paperback for proofing!
Absolutely stunning. Looks far better than in the preview from Createspace!
One minor manufacturing fix and that's it!
Yo! Can't wait!
Details of my first two books on 'Feedaread'
Hey guys!
I have just been delighted to find that Feedaread are now advertising my two books on their 'out shortly' pages.
You can see what appears, by clicking on the following links.
http://www.feedaread.com/books/Jack-Ketchs-Puppets.aspx
http://www.feedaread.com/books/Leicestershire-Myth-and-Legend-In-Verse.aspx
I have just been delighted to find that Feedaread are now advertising my two books on their 'out shortly' pages.
You can see what appears, by clicking on the following links.
http://www.feedaread.com/books/Jack-Ketchs-Puppets.aspx
http://www.feedaread.com/books/Leicestershire-Myth-and-Legend-In-Verse.aspx
When you are truly happy with your story!
Hey guys!
On Tuesday evening, my wife and I attended a folk music night at Leicester Guildhall, with the legendary Martin Carthy (Great concert Martin!).
As those of you who have read the previews to my first novel 'Jack Ketch's Puppets' will know, in 1850, the Guildhall was then Leicester's Town Hall, and incorporated the Police Station, Head Constable's House, and Courts, as well as Mayoral offices and Parlour.
This was the first time I had been back since last November, when I spent quite a long time down there, picturing what it would have been like in 1850, and who would have been wandering about, what they would have been doing, etc.
This was particularly true of what was then the Police Station rooms on the ground floor at St Martins end of the site.
What struck me on Tuesday?
I was surrounded by my characters and by my plot, the minute I walked through the doors. They came up and nodded or said hello, and I could see them and feel them, as I had described in the novel, and, IT WORKED!
I loved it. I really sensed that I had captured the essence rather than just the picture!
The proof of the pudding will be in the readers, so, guys, please let me know when the novel comes out shortly...did I give you more than just a picture?
'Jack Ketch's Puppets' out shortly, through Createspace outlets, Amazon KDP, Feed A read and other good sites!
Please visit my website to read the previews if you haven't already done so.
On Tuesday evening, my wife and I attended a folk music night at Leicester Guildhall, with the legendary Martin Carthy (Great concert Martin!).
As those of you who have read the previews to my first novel 'Jack Ketch's Puppets' will know, in 1850, the Guildhall was then Leicester's Town Hall, and incorporated the Police Station, Head Constable's House, and Courts, as well as Mayoral offices and Parlour.
This was the first time I had been back since last November, when I spent quite a long time down there, picturing what it would have been like in 1850, and who would have been wandering about, what they would have been doing, etc.
This was particularly true of what was then the Police Station rooms on the ground floor at St Martins end of the site.
What struck me on Tuesday?
I was surrounded by my characters and by my plot, the minute I walked through the doors. They came up and nodded or said hello, and I could see them and feel them, as I had described in the novel, and, IT WORKED!
I loved it. I really sensed that I had captured the essence rather than just the picture!
The proof of the pudding will be in the readers, so, guys, please let me know when the novel comes out shortly...did I give you more than just a picture?
'Jack Ketch's Puppets' out shortly, through Createspace outlets, Amazon KDP, Feed A read and other good sites!
Please visit my website to read the previews if you haven't already done so.
Friday 15 March 2013
Review - 'A Thistle in the mist' - Megan Denby
This review is from: A Thistle in the Mist (Kindle Edition)
This is a tale of Death; Love; Betrayal; Deception; Friendship; Loyalty;
Faith; Determination, and Justice. Meara MacDonald's roller-coaster life twists and turns through a variety of events, in this absorbing read.
A cleverly and beautifully crafted read, there is something for everyone, throughout.
I was anxious that it might be a bit 'girly' for my usual taste, but Megan has woven mystery, intrigue and male lines throughout, and those, without wishing to give any more away, are brilliantly and accurately researched.
Megan's choice of word, throughout, is stunning and at the same time spell-binding! A great first novel.
Thursday 14 March 2013
Showcasing other Authors on my website
Hi Guys;
I have come to realise these last few weeks how many of you are scattered across the Globe.
I don't know how you go about increasing your visibility, but I would like to make an offer, and would be even happier if it was something that we could all share and reciprocate.
On my Website www.1455bookcompany.com , I am using the Home page to showcase other talent, whether that be a fellow Author, an artist for cover work, etc.
Currently , I am showing a link to the website of Canadian Author Megan Denby, who has been very welcoming and helpful to me over these weeks.
I hope that this will expose Megan to some of my connections, particularly here in the UK.
If any of you would like to, or be happy to be featured on my website, please let me know.
Of course there is a catch. In a couple of weeks time when my first two books are released, I might well do with a bit of exposure in your neck of the woods.
I have come to realise these last few weeks how many of you are scattered across the Globe.
I don't know how you go about increasing your visibility, but I would like to make an offer, and would be even happier if it was something that we could all share and reciprocate.
On my Website www.1455bookcompany.com , I am using the Home page to showcase other talent, whether that be a fellow Author, an artist for cover work, etc.
Currently , I am showing a link to the website of Canadian Author Megan Denby, who has been very welcoming and helpful to me over these weeks.
I hope that this will expose Megan to some of my connections, particularly here in the UK.
If any of you would like to, or be happy to be featured on my website, please let me know.
Of course there is a catch. In a couple of weeks time when my first two books are released, I might well do with a bit of exposure in your neck of the woods.
The Fire Breather
I would like to use this page to showcase some of the diverse material I am now producing...
This week (commencing Monday 4th March 2013) has been a very interesting week for me. I have been very fortunate, to be selected as winning writer in two group competitions, for short story entries.
The biggest pleasure has been in the Writers Discussion Group, where I posted this little dark number. The prompt was a picture of a Circus, and the rule was 600 words or less, starting with the line...
'I never told anyone...'
Here it is.
'The Fire Breather'
This week (commencing Monday 4th March 2013) has been a very interesting week for me. I have been very fortunate, to be selected as winning writer in two group competitions, for short story entries.
The biggest pleasure has been in the Writers Discussion Group, where I posted this little dark number. The prompt was a picture of a Circus, and the rule was 600 words or less, starting with the line...
'I never told anyone...'
Here it is.
'The Fire Breather'
I never told anyone. It was safer, hindsight being such a
wonderful thing, to say nothing and just hope that it never occurred again.
I was running out of choices though. How many circuses were still out there?
I had left the last one rather hurriedly, and was so, so close to coming unstuck.
The one thing I had gained from all those years working under the ‘Big Top’ was the way a person could be so easily lost in all the grease-paint and costume.
Lost? I mean disappear if you really want to know...in the truest sense of the word.
When Mr C. suggested I was what he was looking for, I was like a dog with two tails.
I must have freaked him out with my spontaneous fit of laughter, tears rolling down my whitened cheeks and staining the jaded, smudged, ruff around my scaley neck.
‘What’s so funny?’ he said.
I declined to respond.
I knew how my mind worked and desperately wanted to confess, there and then.
I knew I had limited opportunity, so apologised, and gave that pathetic sad shrug that clowns in grease-paint seem able to get away with.
‘When can you start?’ he asked optimistically.
‘How about the six tonight?’ I replied.
‘No, I want to check you out before I let you start for sure. Tomorrow will be fine’ he insisted.
‘Got a roof for tonight?’ he enquired
‘No, it’s just me and my bag. I can sleep under the stars, tonight. Actually suits me better. I’m not one for sharing - not very good getting close to people really’ I replied.
A little too honest, perhaps, with hindsight?
‘We got a spare tent at the back of the top. Last guy left it when he blew out rather fast on us. Still got a bed and a sleeping bag in it, if you want it?’
‘Outside will be fine’ I replied ‘at one with Mother Nature’.
‘Funny, a clown who doesn’t like to get close to other people?’ he asked, his eyes rolling and avoiding my own, delving a little too deeply, perhaps.
‘Not everything you see on the outside, matches what lies buried beneath’ I replied brusquely, not needing a grand inquisition before I’d even got my first show in.
‘Sounds a bit deep to me?’ he said
‘Look, either you want me or you don’t. I haven’t got time to be liked, and so I don’t like liking back. Is that such a crime?’ starting to get a bit pissed off, and sensing this was not going to end happily.
‘Don’t know if that’s so good for the rest of my team?’ he sneered.
‘Then perhaps I’d better be getting along and we’ll call it quits’ said I, now starting to wonder why I keep getting myself into these spots?
‘What makes you so special that I can afford to keep you here? He asked.
‘I’m also a fire breather, a damn natural one at that. The best’ I confessed
‘Fire breathers are ten a penny, what makes you so special?’ he sneered again.
HE ACTUALLY SNEERED, GOD DAMN HIM.
‘Let me show you’ I grinned.
A few minutes later, after I had shown him unequivocally, that I was the best there was, I was just walking away from his tent, when I bumped into one of the other clowns.
‘Hi there’ he said
‘Hi there’ I replied, smiling
‘Something smells good. Someone cooking in there?’ he inquired.
‘Yes, someone is’ I replied, and started walking once again.
**************I was running out of choices though. How many circuses were still out there?
I had left the last one rather hurriedly, and was so, so close to coming unstuck.
The one thing I had gained from all those years working under the ‘Big Top’ was the way a person could be so easily lost in all the grease-paint and costume.
Lost? I mean disappear if you really want to know...in the truest sense of the word.
When Mr C. suggested I was what he was looking for, I was like a dog with two tails.
I must have freaked him out with my spontaneous fit of laughter, tears rolling down my whitened cheeks and staining the jaded, smudged, ruff around my scaley neck.
‘What’s so funny?’ he said.
I declined to respond.
I knew how my mind worked and desperately wanted to confess, there and then.
I knew I had limited opportunity, so apologised, and gave that pathetic sad shrug that clowns in grease-paint seem able to get away with.
‘When can you start?’ he asked optimistically.
‘How about the six tonight?’ I replied.
‘No, I want to check you out before I let you start for sure. Tomorrow will be fine’ he insisted.
‘Got a roof for tonight?’ he enquired
‘No, it’s just me and my bag. I can sleep under the stars, tonight. Actually suits me better. I’m not one for sharing - not very good getting close to people really’ I replied.
A little too honest, perhaps, with hindsight?
‘We got a spare tent at the back of the top. Last guy left it when he blew out rather fast on us. Still got a bed and a sleeping bag in it, if you want it?’
‘Outside will be fine’ I replied ‘at one with Mother Nature’.
‘Funny, a clown who doesn’t like to get close to other people?’ he asked, his eyes rolling and avoiding my own, delving a little too deeply, perhaps.
‘Not everything you see on the outside, matches what lies buried beneath’ I replied brusquely, not needing a grand inquisition before I’d even got my first show in.
‘Sounds a bit deep to me?’ he said
‘Look, either you want me or you don’t. I haven’t got time to be liked, and so I don’t like liking back. Is that such a crime?’ starting to get a bit pissed off, and sensing this was not going to end happily.
‘Don’t know if that’s so good for the rest of my team?’ he sneered.
‘Then perhaps I’d better be getting along and we’ll call it quits’ said I, now starting to wonder why I keep getting myself into these spots?
‘What makes you so special that I can afford to keep you here? He asked.
‘I’m also a fire breather, a damn natural one at that. The best’ I confessed
‘Fire breathers are ten a penny, what makes you so special?’ he sneered again.
HE ACTUALLY SNEERED, GOD DAMN HIM.
‘Let me show you’ I grinned.
A few minutes later, after I had shown him unequivocally, that I was the best there was, I was just walking away from his tent, when I bumped into one of the other clowns.
‘Hi there’ he said
‘Hi there’ I replied, smiling
‘Something smells good. Someone cooking in there?’ he inquired.
‘Yes, someone is’ I replied, and started walking once again.
By the time I got to Woodstock
By the time I got to Woodstock
According to the local news
‘Bout a Half a million people
Were descending on Woodstock blues
Them roads were jammed for miles around
The fields, with mud they oozed
The air was thick with dope and sound
As we gathered for Woodstock blues
My first Free love was tasted
Amongst long straggling queues
With those who waited patiently
To get some Woodstock blues
On Friday rain descended
Muddy Water filled my shoes
Richie Havens warmed the audience
With his rhythmic Woodstock blues
On Saturday, more famous bands
Flew in - cos of them queues
Santana, Who and Mountain
They sung their Woodstock blues
Whilst Joplin stirred it up again
The peaceful of us snoozed
kept our heads down in the pouring rain
Making love to Woodstock blues
Sunday into Monday,
Site high on dope or booze
It all became electrifying
With Hendrix’ Woodstock blues
By Monday, hell, the place was rammed
Half a million, all enthused
Crammed on Max Yagur’s dairy farm
Infusing Woodstock blues
By Tuesday, what was all the fuss?
Well, Joni Mitchell knew
I’d now become a child of god
Who’d help make Woodstock News
By Wednesday, so the papers say
The biggest Gig - old news
But I‘d could say, forever
I was part of Woodstock Blues
A Tale of two sisters
Why was it that calls from about two in the morning always took me to some strange events?
“They’ve taken my sister,
they’ve taken my sister” came the shrill cry from the other end of the ‘999’
call. The caller sounded female, distressed and elderly, based on the Police
operator’s years of experience.
“What is your name caller?” said
the concerned operator, listening intently to the faltering voice.
“Edith, Edith Merryweather”
came the weepy response.
“And your sister’s name?”
“Marjorie, she’s seventy-six,
the same age as me, and she’s been very poorly” said the caller.
“Where has this happened?”
“What do you mean?” asked the caller.
“Where has your sister been
taken from?”
“Here, she just been taken, the
doors are all still wide open” said the caller.
“And what is the address?”
“225 Mere Road” said the old
lady “Please hurry, I don’t know where they’ve taken her” weeping turning to
full blown sobs.
“We have some officers on their
way to you now; you wait there” said the operator, at which point the caller
cleared.
*****
“Charlie Alpha four one from
control” crackled across the UHF radios tuned to the ‘Central’ channel.
Alerting all the officers who
were actually listening, and who were still awake, given the unearthly hour;
the call would no doubt fall on the deaf ears of those who had found some quiet
pull in, out of the way of prying eyes, and now giving it big ZZZZZs, or the
ones who had turned their radios off whilst tucked up safe and warm at their
local tea spot.
“Charlie Alpha four one,
Sparkenhoe Street” came the response from the passenger in the Highfields area
panda car, as always, alert, wide awake and reliable.
“Four one, make your way to 225
Mere Road. We’ve just taken a report of an abduction, an elderly lady, Marjorie
Merryweather, seventy six years. Complainant is the sister, Edith”
“Four one, willco” came the
response.
*****
The observer flicked on the
Escort’s blue light, as the driver pointed the car left onto Maidstone Road,
and headed up into the Highfields, the light bouncing off the nearby houses and
turning darkness into intermittent light.
“Strange, this time of the
night?” said the observer, PC Tony Lawrence, an experienced Central Division
veteran of seven years, including this second spell back at Asfordby Street
station.
“Probably a wind-up” said the
driver, PC Nev Mitchell, a few years longer in service than Tony, all spent on
the Highfields area.
“Still, get us out of this
bloody cold!” said Tony “and a cup of tea either way, I suppose!”
“Gagging for one” said Nev,
winding the Escort up to fifty, the engine whining as it turned up Berners
Street, reaching for third gear, sending an assortment of cats scurrying for the safety of nearby alleyways and parked cars.
“Any other mobile Asfordby
Street side to back-up four one?” crackled the new transmission.
“Charlie Alpha four two; we’ve
just come ten one from the prowler on Forest Road, we’ll back them up” replied
Pete Short, one of the shift of four that had started at ten pm the night
before, at Asfordby Street.
“Four two; many thanks. If you
can make your way and do a tour of the area, an old lady shouldn’t be hard to
spot, even for you two” the voice of Sergeant Andy Bury, the night shift
control sergeant at Charles Street, directed, a hint of sarcasm tinged with
laughter, clearly audible.
“Four one, can you put us on
speak-through, whilst it’s quiet?” said Nev, pulling up at the address.
“That’s the kiss of death, you
used the ‘Q’ word, so now we’re doomed!” laughed Tony.
*****
As the car pulled up to the
address, front tyre squealing as Nev got a bit too close to the nearside kerb,
it was clear to see that the front door numbered 225 was wide open, and the
light on in the hallway and adjacent front ground floor room.
It was not a night to be
wandering around, particularly if you are old and ill. The sky was dark
blue-black, and even with the light pollution from the city, constellations
shone clear, the officers’ breath highlighted by clouds of cooling vapour,
frost settling in for the night on the parked cars lining the street. A
northerly wind blew, with every other gust making that eerie howl that cuts
through you.
“No sign of any old lady in the
street” said Tony, briefly updating pocket-phones over speak-through “Control, update
our arrival at the incident location please”.
“Four one, roger to your
arrival” replied Mary, the radio controller, who would be sat next to the
sergeant’s console at Charles Street.
By now she would be moving
around the little magnets with the call signs on ‘dynotape’, showing the
current status of all Central resources at any one time, on the small but
effective resource board. No doubt there would be a ‘MFH’ magnet next to the
call signs CA41 and CA42 as she acknowledged the crews, moving them across to
the ‘engaged’ column. Reliable Mary, one operator you knew you could always
trust.
“Four two, show us in the area”
“Four two, roger” said Mary.
*****
Tony
and Nev walked towards the
open door, and noted the cleanly polished, red and white, Edwardian
tiles, not
a mark to be seen, other than a mere hint of frost on their outermost
edge. A crafty urban Fox, probably from one of the derelict factory
yards nearby, stared up from the middle of the road, eyes glowing,
contemptuous of the interruption in his scavenging.
‘No signs of forced entry’ Tony
thought.
A classic Edwardian terraced
villa, with pretty feminine curtains at each window, all drawn closed. This had
been a wealthy area once, and many of the houses had seen better days, but it
was clear that this one was, or at least had been until recently, cherished.
“Hello, anyone there?” called
Tony
“Have you found her?” came the
frail reply.
Tony stepped into the hallway,
opening the door off to his left, immediately inside; already ajar.
“Hello, you must be Edith, do
you mind if I call you that?” addressing an elderly lady, sat half-in and
half-out of a single bed which took up most of the far wall of the room. Frail
and palid, looking very unkempt, the lady looked confused and frightened.
The woman was visibly shaking,
and her cheeks tear stained.
“What has happened my love?”
said Tony
“They’ve taken my sister away”
sobbed the old lady
“Who has?” said Nev
“Those men, they’ve just taken
her away with them” she replied
“Where was she when they took
her?” said Tony, looking at the room, reflecting that there was only one,
small, single bed.
The room smelt lived in, and
had that musty smell that grows with age, infirmity and sadly, incontinence.
A small, three bar electric
fire, glowed orange, plugged in by the front of the original hearth, but it gave
off very little warmth to the room; a small folding leaf table, and a single
dining chair tucked under the side, the sum total of the furnishings. No TV,
like so many of the old folk in the area. No radio either. ‘Must be one
somewhere else’ he thought.
“She was sat just there, next
to me” said the old lady, indicating to a gull winged, leather, high backed arm
chair, that had seen better days, the seat cushion threadbare and stained, in common
with those of many of the elderly folk who saw out their life on the
Highfields, seen so many times before.
“What was your sister wearing?”
asked Nev.
“Just her nightdress and
dressing gown, a pink one I think, and slippers, yes slippers she would have
had on” said the old lady.
“And what is your sister’s
name?” asked Tony
“Marjorie, she is seventy six
you know” said the old lady
“And what did the men look
like?” said Tony
“Big and dark, they had on black
coats I think” she replied
“And did they have a car?” said
Nev
“I don’t know, they carried her
out and I didn’t see any of them again” said the old lady, starting to sob, and
wailing in a low, deep, mournful tone “Carried her out they did”.
“Where does Marjorie normally
sleep?” said Nev
“She is in the back room, down
the hallway” said the old lady, becoming breathless.
“Better call an ambulance, she
doesn’t seem too well herself” said Tony. “I’ll go and check the rest of the
house”.
Tony walked carefully down the
hallway, lit by an ornate, imposing glass ceiling fitting, which looked like it
had been in situ since the house would have been first occupied. Again, the
hall tiles were typically Edwardian; decoratively patterned diamonds, highly polished and showing no
signs of movement, no footmarks or anything dropped or disturbed in a struggle.
Opening the next door along on
the left, Tony entered another bedroom, similar to the first, with a single bed
on the left wall, as he entered. Then, a similarly aged arm chair, and some
drawers. Odd pieces of ladies clothing littered the bed, which was disturbed,
but the sheets were cold. A small black and white TV that was cold and dusty to
the touch. It had the same musty smell as the one in which he had just walked
away from.
No drawers were open,
suggesting that nobody had hurriedly gone through them, or taken anything from
them recently. The room looked almost locked in some previous time.
From the bedroom, turning left
into the hall, he opened the door at the opposite end to the front door, and
had to feel inside for a switch, the room in total darkness.
A kitchen, neatly piled
crockery standing aside the sink, with two of everything present. Two dirty
cups and saucers, both containing remnants of tea leaves stood on a small
wooden table with a plastic gingham table cloth beneath them, the tea pot stood
across from them, luke warm. Little in the way of food evident in cupboards,
just the basics, a small loaf, butter, jam, milk and an old caddy with tea
leaves, half full. No signs of frivolity or extravagance, just an old fashioned
kitchen and contents.
The radio he had expected was
an old style, brown, tortoiseshell by HMV, heavy and probably not used in
years, sat in the middle of the table.
A quick check of upstairs, all
shut up, almost frozen in time completely, with dusty furniture and empty
wardrobes the story of a level probably rarely, if ever used today, sad and
unloved.
No signs of a break-in anywhere;
all the windows secure; not looking at all like a crime scene, Tony noted,
walking back to the front door and starting to talk into his radio.
“Four one to control”
“Four one, pass your message,
over” replied Mary.
“Four one, this is a strange one.
Sure enough there appears to be somebody missing, but my instinct tells me
there’s something not quite right. We’re going to have a more detailed look
around the house, and I’ll get back to you shortly” said Tony
Nev, listening in on
speak-through, moved to the hallway and shrugged.
“Weird this! Why would anyone
take an old lady at this hour of the morning?” said Tony.
“She seems sure about her
sister, and the descriptions are vague but sound like she’s actually seen them”
said Nev.
“Do me a favour” said Tony “Go
back to the nick and see if you can get hold of any duty officer at Social
services, See if they have anything on the address. I’ll wait for the
ambulance”.
“Won’t be long” said Nev “Bet
there’s nobody there at this time that will tell us”.
“See if there are any lights on
in the next few houses. Might be someone still up and about who might know
them” suggested Tony.
*****
Nev
wandered off out of the
front door, which he pulled to, but left on the latch, leaving Tony
alone with
the old lady. The old screech owl from the steep flight of Victorian
steps, opposite, let out one of its high-pitched hoots, breaking the
otherwise absolute silence.
“Can I get you a cup of tea
whilst we wait for any news?” he said
“No thank you, but if you want
one, help yourself” said the old lady.
Tony sat himself down on a
simple wooden dining chair that he pulled out from against the small table, and
sat down alongside her. The chair looked a safer and healthier bet for what he
needed to do next, given the state of the arm chair, not that he hadn’t sat on
worse over the years.
“I need to take some details
from you” said Tony, reaching into the flat leather briefcase and pulling out a
pro-forma ‘Missing from Home’ form, and a pair of statement forms, a facer and
a continuation sheet, from amongst the assorted paperwork he always carried
with him.
Reaching into the spring on the
top of his A4 sized wooden clipboard, he pulled out his trusty black BIC, and clipped
the top of the forms under the spring, where the pen had just lodged, securing
them for whilst he wrote.
“It’s now two thirty five in
the morning, Friday, December the 9th, 1977” he mumbled as he filled
in the top line of the form, for date and time last seen “so it would have been
about one hour ago she went?”
“About that, yes” she replied
“You say that Marjorie is not
very well. What is wrong with her?” said Tony
“Old age and depreciation” the
old lady said, with a smile, “just like the rest of us”.
“Is she on any medication?”
said Tony
“No, not any more, not for a
long time” said the old lady, smile giving way to tears again.
“Have you got any other
relatives nearby?” said Tony
“No, they’re all gone, neither
of us married. We’re the last ones in the family” she replied
“And how long have you lived
here?” said Tony
“We have been here since before
the war, it was our parents’ house. Never moved.” She replied
“What time did Marjorie go to
bed?” said Tony
“She didn’t; she’s been sat
here next to me all night, we just talk to each other and keep each other
company” she replied
“And when did you become aware
of these men?” said Tony
“Only when they were taking her
away, all in black they were, all dark” she replied
“Do you mind if I have a little
bit of a look around and look for anything that might help us; photographs or
papers?” said Tony
“Haven’t had a photo taken for
years” she replied “but feel free to look”.
Tony began to examine a small
chest of drawers, that looked the most likely source of any useful, further,
information.
There were some photographs,
some in sepia, and some later ones, but most appeared to only cover a period he
thought was about the time of the Second World War, judging by the dress and
surroundings.
Tony picked out one or two family
photos, and one or two photos of a woman standing on her own, probably in front
of this very house, by the look of the door. 225 could just be made out on the
adjacent wall.
“Who are these ladies?” said
Tony, showing each picture to the old lady.
“That one is me; that one is
Marjorie. We would have been in our 30s when they were taken” she replied
“Are you twins?” said Tony
“Yes” she replied
“And the family group?” said
Tony
“Mum, Dad and the two of
us. The boy was my brother, Arthur, who was killed in the war.” She replied.
“How long have you and your
sister been on your own?” said Tony
“Our parents both passed away
just after the end of the war. Losing Arthur broke their hearts. They died very
quickly and close together” she replied.
“Marjorie, is that you?” said
the old lady, looking towards the door out onto the hallway, sending a shiver
down Tony’s neck.
“I don’t think there’s anyone
here yet” said Tony. “Some ambulance people will be here shortly, just to make
sure that you are alright”.
“That’s very kind of you, but
I’m fine” she replied. “Wait; I thought I heard her come back in. Is that you
Sis?”
“Just the wind probably, moving
the doors” said Tony. It always made him uneasy, sitting with an old person in
an empty house. Always something sorrowful about the whole process.
Tony sat quietly for a couple
of minutes, filling out the sections of the form that he had started earlier,
and that he now had answers for.
*****
As he scribbled a few comments
in the ‘any other useful information section’, he turned over another of the
pieces of paper he had pulled from the drawers, checking for anything useful as
he should, he realised that he was looking at a Registrar’s ‘certificate of
death’.
Marjorie Alice Merryweather.
Date of death; 24th November
1946. Age at death; 44 years. Place of
death; 225 Mere Road, Leicester. Cause
of death; Consumption.
“Edith, have you had any other
brothers or sisters that you haven’t told me about?” said Tony
“No, just the ones in the
pictures, Arthur, Marjorie and me” she replied
“Are you sure that Marjorie has
been living here with you?” said Tony, watching the old lady’s face for any
signs of doubt.
“She was here earlier, until
those men took her away” she replied
As she spoke, the door from the
hallway opened, almost fully, as did the front door, which Nev had left on the
latch, and a piercingly cold chill blew across the room, followed by one of
those howling gusty sounds.
“Look, here she is now” said
the old lady, suddenly smiling, broadly.
Her face and body moved, turning, as if in synchronization
with someone crossing the room, until stopping at the gull wing chair, then her
gaze descending as if someone had sat down. For a brief moment, he would swear he smelled lilac or lavender waft by.
“That’s right Marjorie; you sit
yourself down, and get warm again. You must be perishing. Now where have you
been, worrying me and this nice policeman?” asked the old lady.
Tony felt a chill creep through
his body, unlike anything he had felt before, and every hair on his neck
and scalp tingled and stood on end.
“Now then; I don’t suppose you
feel like making us all a cup of tea now do you Marjorie? No? I suppose I had
better go and do it as usual then!”
Abe
Abe was having a bad day,
again...
It was about midnight as he
walked down the short flight of stairs from the ‘Watch’ room on the first floor
of the old Fire Station in Asfordby Street, and he was in a foul mood.
Slamming the door behind him as
hard as he could, he was in no mood for stupidity again, tonight.
His feet sounded loud against
the worn brown ‘lino’ which covered the wooden stairs, and his fire boots
echoed with every slow, deliberate, careful step.
Reaching the door to the middle
room, adjacent to where the pump was normally parked up, he pushed the door
inwards and strode into the brightly lit room.
The two men, writing up their
notes and having a brew, were obviously startled, and visibly horrified as he opened
the door and walked in.
“Don’t know what you two have
got to be scared of? It’s only me. Who did you think it was?” as he walked
through to the door opposite, which would take him through to the rest room and
kitchen.
Neither man spoke. They just
looked at each other, and probably thought of leaving, judging by the way they
gathered their papers together.
“What have I done now?” he
wondered.
That really annoyed Abe.
Why couldn’t they just have the
common decency to say hello. He was getting more and more disgruntled with the
way he was continually ignored.
It hadn’t been like that when
he knew all the crews, and his own crew members had been the life and soul of
the party. It had been a while now since they had been replaced. And now there
were Coppers there.
“This new lot; they’re all
ignorant, without exception” he mumbled. “Don’t know how to talk to people,
this generation” he said to himself.
One had recently once stood in
his way and wouldn’t move. Never spoke, but still stood there, almost as if he
wasn’t welcome. Abe had to walk round him.
“So you don’t like Firemen, get
used to it” he moaned.
It was his workplace as much as
it was theirs, so share and share alike, that’s what he would have preferred,
just like the old days.
Last night, he had stayed in
the mess room until about three in the morning as there were no calls, and the
whole station seemed quiet. He was the only one up and about, from what he
could make out.
He was ready for a leg stretch,
and didn’t want to disturb anybody, so he had removed his boots and tiptoed
downstairs instead.
When he went through to the
kitchen, to see what was in the pantry, there was just one of the Coppers, all
on his own. The others were obviously out at a job, and there was no sign of
the pump. He must have slept through it, just like he always seemed to these
days.
The minute he walked through
the door, the poor chap on the other side was so surprised, that he ran out of
the room, and straight out of the front door; didn’t even stop to turn off the
lights.
“Looks like you’ve seen a
ghost” Abe had joked
This seemed to be happening a
lot these days. Nobody stayed around for long when he came down.
They were always ready to talk
to each other though, complaining about him and his ‘strange’ ways.
“Did you hear him last night,
half past two, slamming doors and banging on the stairs?” one had asked his
mate.
“If they don’t do something
about it soon, I’m going to ask to go back to Charles Street. It’s him or me. I
can’t stand it here.” said the other.
“Why can’t they just tell me to
my face, and let me explain, then they might understand? But ignoring me, or
walking off when I try and be friendly, it’s just downright rude” Abe thought
to himself, which he did a lot of recently.
About four o’clock that morning,
the front door opened, and in walked one of the regulars, and he had another
new bloke with him. Abe waited patiently to be introduced.
“So, you’ve never been up here
before then?” said the regular.
“No, it’s my first week in the
job” replied the new bloke.
“Well, you may find that this
is not a place you would want to work, as most of the time there will only be
you, or perhaps two of you, and it’s not a place to be on your own, not at
night” said the regular.
“Why’s that?” asked the new
bloke.
“Years ago, this used to be a
fire station, as well as a Police Station. Their bit was over the far side,
where the bikes now live. In 1937, one of their Station Officers, a man named
Hincks, died here. All sorts of stories about him being taken ill and falling
over, but whatever the reason, he fell over and died upstairs, and it wasn’t
until his crew had left that they realised what had happened” said the regular.
“And he’s never left the place.
Not every night, but most nights, you will hear footsteps on the floor above,
or doors opening and closing, footsteps on the stairs. If you go down through
the old cells to the locker room, it’s like a mortuary – freezing, even on a
summer’s night. I’ve seen hard men run off from this place, just at the thought
of old Abe” he continued.
Abe shook his head and walked
back to the door to the stairs, throwing it open in another fit of pique, much
to the Officers’ consternation.
“What chance do I have, when
that’s how they talk about me?
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