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[Brenda & Effie 07] - A Game of Crones

Page 25

by Paul Magrs


  ‘I remember,’ I nod. ‘Bella.’ I don’t know where the name comes from. It simply popped into my head with no warning. A part of me rebels. Why can’t I just be myself? Why do I have to explain myself to anyone at all? My friends would be delighted that I’ve been through this rejuvenation process. And anyone who isn’t my friend can get lost. So why the need for duplicity?

  On our way to the Christmas Hotel, we pause outside Woolworths. Someone has boarded over the window I smashed in the middle of the night.

  ‘See?’ I shoot Effie a look. ‘That’s where we got in.’

  ‘I’m not doubting your word,’ she shoots back. ‘I’m just feeling more and more disturbed, ducky. How could I not remember undergoing the things you tell me went on last night?’

  Blackouts. It’s a terrible word. ‘It’s not as if you drink that much, either,’ I shrug. But then I start wondering about that Romanian vodka I’ve watched her polish off a few nights in a row. Has she perhaps been slipping off to SAVE SAVE SAVE and stocking up on that potent, colourless brew she’s been so fond of recently?

  ‘I don’t really want to go back in there,’ I nod at the darkened windows of the store. ‘But I fear we might have to.’

  ‘Did you actually see the beast for yourself?’

  I shake my head. ‘But I heard it. The noise went right through me. It was a soul-crushing howl and the most horrible smacking of lips…’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of it one bit,’ Effie grimaces, and we set off up the hilly street of secondhand shops. I find I have to lag behind a little so the old dame can keep up with me.

  Me, I feel like I could face anything.

  ‘You’d think we’d have friends and helpers, somehow…’ Effie says, as we cross the shaded canyons of the tall, elegant hotels leading to the cliffs.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, like a team of us. Younger people who we could rely on. A network of people who might help us in our quest to protect the town…’

  I mull this over as we scoot through the smart crescent with its view over the entire harbour and the headland above. ‘I suppose that might be a good idea,’ I mutter, and then my breath catches because a thought drifts through my mind. Something surprising. The tail end of an important memory that suddenly whisks away from me, leaving my whole mind dark. ‘Effie! I think you’re right!’

  ‘What? What is it?’ she sounds alarmed. ‘I feel it, too, I think. Something odd. Something obvious. Something we’ve both clean forgotten.’

  I want to slap my made-up face and shake some sense into me. ‘We do have friends! I’m sure we do… We have… we had young friends… and they helped us…’

  ‘Did they?’ We’ve stopped walking now and Effie has plonked herself down on a bench at the edge of the green cliffs. We’re not far from the hotel now, but we pause and take in the wide, glimmering expanse of the sea. ‘Did we have young friends? Where are they now? What’s become of them?’

  ‘I don’t know…’ I feel quite sick with dread. ‘And why have we forgotten their names and everything about them? What’s gone and happened to us, Effie?’

  She looks at me, full in the face. ‘Blackouts,’ she intones. ‘I think we’ve both been having them. We’ve both been carrying on as if our lives were back to normal. But I’m not so sure. I think we’re carrying on and we’re missing something big. Something terribly big.’

  As we stare at each other I wonder if this is the time to tell her about the three magical wishes I’ve been granted. And the duck and all. Maybe that’s what’s behind everything? But before I can broach that she gives a sharp cry like she’s got a pain in her hip or something.

  ‘Penny!’ she gasps. ‘And Robert!’

  I feel just like someone is walking over my grave. And believe me, I know exactly how that feels. ‘What? Who?’

  ‘They were our friends, Brenda. Our young friends. I was right. There are indeed people missing from our lives. Things here aren’t quite what they ought to be…’

  Penny? Robert? Distant bells chime, but no images emerge from the miasma in my mind. For a moment I feel like I might be teetering on the brink of one of my flashbacks, but nothing develops.

  I snap back into the present moment and shake my head to clear it. ‘If it’s important I’m sure we’ll remember everything in due course. Now, let’s get on with the evening’s investigation. What are we here to do?’

  Effie pulls a dissatisfied expression. ‘Mrs Claus of the Christmas Hotel. She wants us to keep an eye open. She’s got a funny lot staying with her this week.’

  ‘Oh, yes? Who’s that?’ And I wonder: why are we doing that grotesque yuletide hag any favours? Hasn’t she tried to murder us several times over in the past?

  ‘It’s some kind of knees-up and a convention,’ Effie rolls her eyes and stands up. ‘But there are dimensional issues and ripples in the ether, Mrs Claus reckons. You know the kind of thing. It sounds like one more smashing, spooky adventure for us!’

  We cross the road and already I can hear the Christmassy music from within the great pale walls of that Edwardian hotel.

  ‘It’s most probably to do with the fabric of the universe and time and space and things like that,’ says Effie carelessly.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ I say, though mostly I’m thinking: Oh, wouldn’t it be lovely to have a dance? Wouldn’t it be splendid to have a rave-up at Christmas Hotel? And maybe that’s my third magical wish? A simple thing, like a bloody good night out?

  ‘You know the type of thing, ducky,’ Effie says. ‘I’m sure that, even in your altered state, you can take it all in your stride.’

  And do you know what? Feeling like I do, and looking like I do tonight, I reckon I can deal with anything.

  With Huge Thanks To…

  Jeremy and all my family and friends; Stuart and George, Jamie, Stephen, Deborah, Nick, Rosie, Lee, Lynn, John, Anthony.

  The Whitby Bookshop, where all the staff were so supportive during all those readings in the Brenda years!

  Simon Barnard from Bafflegab, who produced the first four stories in this book as a wonderful set of audio adventures starring Anne Reid (first as a series called ‘The Brenda and Effie Mysteries’ and then as a podcast called ‘Grandma Guignol.’) Thanks to Anne and the original audio Brenda, Jo Tope.

  Agent Ben and publisher Emma! And Claire. And Brendan with his musical, and Barry with his TV show!

  Thanks to Jon Rolph who, years ago in a London pub – right after I’d had a terrible meeting with my children’s book publisher – told me: ‘You should go back to those characters in that radio story you did. Do more with them!’

  Vivienne Dunstan for a splendid copyedit! And to the rest of my reading team, thanks, too!

  And thank you to all the readers, past and future, who love Brenda and Effie with such wonderful loyalty. Who knows..? Maybe there’ll be more adventures some day and we’ll all be together again..?

  Lots of love,

  Paul

  November 2019

 

 

 


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