David's entry:
Geraldine Mountfichet
“And you’re sure someone at the railway station tried to kill you?” asked Inspector Stirrup as he cowered in the corner of Geraldine Mountfichet’s kitchen.
“Utterly,” she snapped. “Fortuitous that the belt buckle of my mackintosh got caught between the lamp-post and the litter bin or I’d have been under the train. And did anyone stop to see why this old biddy was doing pirouettes round said lamp-post? Ha!” she exploded, “they did not! Swines all buggered orf when the train rolled in. Ushered me into the station building and they’re away into the morning mist like deer after the crops.”
Elfrida yawned and took a momentary rest from firing pedigree Afghan pups into the world. Her world being a tin bath next to the black iron range which was blasting out enough heat to keep half the county’s homes warm. The bath was lined with old socks and back copies of the East Anglian Daily Times.
“Tea?” demanded Geraldine in a way that none but the brave would have refused and she grabbed at two Queen’s Silver Jubilee mugs from the shelf and planted them on the willow pattern oil-cloth that shrouded the oak table. She took the smouldering kettle from the range and dispensed two doses of boiling black liquid. On her return from the range, a bottle of whisky appeared from nowhere and a large slug was added to the brew.
“Come on, old stick,” she growled encouragingly at Elfrida. “A few more to line the old boy’s coffers. Five hundred smackers a toss,” she said to Inspector Stirrup. “Less what the tax man, the vet and the bank manager cream orf. Fancy one? Do you a discount if you like. Those pups have got a better pedigree than you or I; and I’ve got a line that goes back to the Hapsburgs and a cousin married to a displaced Romanian Count.”
Stirrup shook his head. “Love to, Mrs M but what with the twins… D’ja get a look at who-ever give you a shove?”
“Ha!” she exploded again. “Little weasel slunk orf like a fox into the hedgerow. Not a sniff. More tea?” and his barely started mug was topped up before he could say ‘can I have coffee?’
Clare's entry:
Melody
"Could I what?" I stared at my daughter’s choirmaster in astonishment.
"Well, Mrs Perkins," he stumbled with his words, blushing furiously. "I .. um, .. I just wondered if you would ask Melody if she would mind sitting behind the pillar, when we put the choir in front of the audience."
"You must be joking Mr. Plonkit," I replied. "My daughter is very presentable, and will be dressed in the best possible taste."
"I don’t doubt it Mrs. Perkins, but, well, she is a little, er, shall we say, tone deaf? Putting her behind a pillar means the audience can’t actually locate the source of the dissonance."
I did have to take his point. Melody attempting to carry a tune was, to the ear, as an elephant doing a dressage test, to the eye. But, bless her, she loved music, sang from the moment she got up in the morning, until she sang her prayers at night. Even Mr. Plonkit had not had the heart to refuse her pleas to join the Primary School Choir.
You may wonder how we came to name our daughter. Truth to tell, we had waited so long for a child, that the first time she made a sound, it was like a choir of angels singing.
And, happily, in time, Melody’s love of music did bear fruit. Her cello playing has been likened to that of Yo-Yo Ma, and has taken her all over the world. But now she is teaching piano, violin, and cello, bringing the joy of music to young people, including her own children.
Yes, my Melody now has two daughters. They have inherited their mother’s musical talents. She hopes they may also live up to their names, Patience and Honour.
Zena's entry:
William Shakespeare
“A Life of Violent Crime”: Appendix
After I finished this biography I was contacted from Australia by an aunt of Billy Shakespeare, who kindly sent me a copy of a letter she received from his late mother. This arrived too late to be included in the book, but as it throws light on Billy’s first brush with the law I include part of it here.
“Dear Ena,
I’m sure you’ll be sad to hear our Billy passed away last week. I’m just writing to let you know, so as you won’t be so upset if you read it in the newspapers. I know he loved you, bless him, though he didn’t see you much. He was about 7 last time, wasn’t he? I’m a bit upset myself, if you must know, no matter what he did he was my son, but he always remembered your lovely jam tarts. I can see him stuffing them into his little sister’s mouth now, four at a time. Your face when you saw it! I did laugh.
I hadn’t seen him for a while myself, you see, or I’d have let you know he was poorly, poor lamb. He was so far away in that last prison but I did go when I could, though what with Jack being laid off and all that high security, I didn’t get much chance really.
Well, it’s a rum do, isn’t it? It’s not right that a son pass away before his parents. We had such high hopes for him, do you remember when he was born? Jack saying we should give him a head start in life, being a Shakespeare and all. I can picture your face now when we told you William. Oh, I did laugh.
I blame that infant teacher really, what was her name? You remember, tall bossy woman - said Billy was a bit odd. Never heard anything so daft, he was just a quiet kid. You remember how he used to pretend he couldn’t count? I did laugh. It was her fault they called him Silly Billy and it stuck with him, didn’t it, poor love? Silly Billy my foot.
Did I ever tell you about that first time he got arrested? Just a bit of high jinx, you know how boys are out at night. A broken window or something. And when the policeman asked his name and he said Billy, well, that wasn’t enough for Lord Plod, was it? So when poor Billy, bless his heart, said, “William Shakespeare” the policeman said, “And I’m the Aga Khan” and whisked him away to the station. I like that, arrested for telling the truth. Now if that policeman hadn’t done that our Billy wouldn’t ever have gone into crime, would he?
Anyhow, dear, he won’t be committing any more crimes now, bless his cotton socks, but I thought you’d like to know. Jack says don’t go chasing kangaroos at your age (he does make me laugh sometimes)…”
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