Bedtime Reads

by Janet Pywell

  Contents

  Book Blurb

  - Abyssinian Dropfoot

  - My Lost Brother

  - Letters abroad

  - Aqua Tofana

  - APair of Shoes

  - Something Might Happen

  - All Inclusive

  - All Exclusive

  - All Encompassing

  - Dating for a Dad

  - They Lied

  - Hattie

  - Jacob's Birthday

  - Just A Drag

  - I'd Lie In The Road For You

  - The Bar

  - Jan d'Artagnan

  - Author's Mailing List

  - Masterpiece - The Blurb

  - Books by Janet Pywell

  Bedtime Reads consists of seventeen short stories based on relationships. Each individual tale spotlights a variety of compelling characters revealing their tangled emotions and complicated dreams.

  These bite-sized page-turners show the lengths to which some people will go in pursuit of happiness or revenge. Written to entertain, amuse and stir your emotions, these enticing narratives will provide unexpected plot twists that may keep you reading into the early hours.

  From romance to murder, this exceptional collection of thought-provoking short stories is an enjoyable feast of evening bedtime treats...

  For Amanda.

  Sign up for the author’s New Releases mailing list and get a free copy of the first book: MASTERPIECE in the Culture Crime Series.

  To download your free copy simply click here:

  http://www.subscribepage.com/janetpywell

  Abyssinian Dropfoot

  ‘I’m not one to complain,’ Harry said to his sister, Gloria.

  ‘I know,’ she replied, ‘but Richard’s only coming round for dinner and it won’t be a late night – I promise.’

  ‘It’s just that this pain in my head doesn’t seem to be shifting – I’ve had it for three days now.’

  ‘I think some company will do you good – it will do us both good.’

  ‘It’s not just an ordinary headache, Gloria. It’s been going on for too long.’ He rubbed his temple, pinched his nose and sat at the kitchen table.

  ‘I’m making cottage pie – your favourite,’ she said opening the fridge and pulling out mince, carrots and onions.

  ‘Is it serious?’

  ‘I really like him Harry and I want you to get to know him. He’s great fun and we share the same sense of humour.’

  ‘Richard Collins,’ Harry said, savouring the name. ‘I don’t remember him from school.’

  ‘He remembers you and he’s looking forward to seeing you again.’

  ‘Was he sporty?’

  ‘Yes – he goes to the gym now.’

  ‘I didn’t do any sport - don’t you remember?’

  ‘No,’ Gloria said and began chopping and slicing. ‘You can lay the table if you like?’

  Harry stretched his neck and shoulders. The thought of having someone round for dinner wasn’t his idea of a happy evening besides he wasn’t really up to it. He didn’t feel well.

  ‘We’ll eat in the dining room for a change. I’m sick of us eating at the kitchen table. We can light some candles. I bought some new ones today, in there.’ She nodded at a carrier bag on the kitchen counter and Harry stood up and peered inside.

  ‘You’ve gone to a lot of trouble – and expense…’

  ‘I can afford it.’

  Harry sat down again. He’s never had Gloria’s energy but since Gloria turned thirty she’d changed. She had even more vitality, more spirit.

  ‘Is it your body clock thing again?’ he asked.

  ‘No – not this time – I think Richard is – the one.’

  Harry leaned forward and put his head between his legs waiting for the blood to rush to his head. ‘If I’m no better by tomorrow I’ll have to go to the doctors again.’

  ‘Of course you will,’ Gloria replied but it wasn’t the answer that Harry wanted. Of course he wouldn’t be better by tomorrow, couldn’t she see that? She had no idea how ill he was.

  ‘Perhaps if you move around, it will get your circulation going,’ she smiled. ‘Richard will be here soon. Will you shower and change?’

  Harry nodded. ‘That’s what I’ll do. I’ll go and get ready. My left arm has been hurting me all week and I find it hard to lift it above my shoulder. Look, I can’t lift it very well and it’s painful. It might take me a while to get ready so I’ll go up now. You’re not looking, Gloria. Look! I can only raise my arm to here. See?’

  ‘Well, run hot water on your head and your shoulders and it might clear.’

  ‘It’s not as simple as that. I think it’s something more serious,’ he paused waiting for her to look at him but the potatoes were boiling and Gloria added a tin of oxtail soup to the frying minced beef. The kitchen was filled with warm aromas but Harry felt queasy.

  ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat anything.’

  ‘That’s fine, Harry. If you want to eat later, you can – perhaps you’d like a lie down?’

  ‘I want to meet Richard.’

  ‘Ok.’

  ‘Did you meet him at the gym?’

  ‘He’s in my art class.’

  ‘On a Wednesday night? The one I couldn’t go to because I had sprained my wrist?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Don’t you remember?’

  ‘I can’t think why you missed the first class.’

  ‘I remember, Gloria. I tripped when we had that walk in the woods. You insisted on taking the short cut to the pub even though I said it was dangerous.’

  ‘Right,’ Gloria began mashing potatoes with butter and milk.

  ‘You made me leek and potato soup afterwards.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Yes. You said you would make my favourite thing in the whole world.’

  Gloria laughed. ‘Leek soup.’

  ‘With potatoes.’

  ‘Would you wipe some glasses for me and shine the cutlery while you are sitting there?’

  Harry looked at the new tea towel she placed before him then she passed him knives and forks from the drawer. It saved him from standing up.

  ‘Is he a good artist?’ he asked.

  ‘Brilliant – he makes Bansky look like an amateur. He’s got his own web page. You should look him up?’

  ‘I think that’s what gives me the pain in my left eye and my headache. I think it’s the Wifi – I may be allergic to it.’

  ‘To the Wifi?’

  ‘Yes – it can happen you know. It’s the invisible rays that we can’t see. That invisible power – it has a major effect on some people.’ Harry polished and buffed the glasses as he spoke.

  Gloria spooned the meat mixture into a dish, added mashed potato and then grated cheese on top. ‘I’m going up to change,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll sit here for a while. I feel a bit tired.’

  ‘But you haven’t done anything all day.’

  ‘That’s not true! I put the washing on this morning. All you had to do was to peg it on the line.’

  Gloria sat opposite him at the table. She stared at him for a while and then she reached out and took his hand in hers.

  ‘Harry, you’re not ill.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘What about the tingling in my foot?’

  ‘Harry, I really think that if you just got on with life and stopped thinking about your health every moment of the day then you wouldn’t feel ill.’

  ‘Do you think I am making it up?’ Harry stood up pushing his chair away so it collided with the radiator on the wall.

  ‘I’m concerned that you concentrate too much on your health. You went privately to see the doctor three months ago and he
gave you a complete medical. You’re fine. There’s nothing wrong with you.’

  ‘You have no sympathy, Gloria. You’re a hard person. I hope that you’re kinder to Richard – I really do. Now my head feels worse. You do this on purpose. That’s the doorbell – is he early?’

  ‘It seems like it.’ Gloria rose from the table. She didn’t check her appearance before answering the door and Harry listened as she greeted Richard in the hallway.

  He heard them kiss - probably cheeks - and she whispered something he couldn’t hear. Then they appeared in the kitchen together, arm in arm, looking happy and relaxed.

  ‘Do you remember Harry?’ she said, leaning against Richard’s muscled shoulder.

  ‘Of course, Harry – it’s great to see you.’ His handshake was strong and Harry winced. Richard was tall and rugged with a square chin covered in a fashionable trimmed beard. ‘I think we were in the same year but not the same class.’

  Harry frowned. ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘That’s because you were the clever one with your nose in a book in the library and I was the sports fanatic who wouldn’t sit at my desk.’ Richard beamed. ‘Fat lot of good it did. Wasn’t good enough to be a footballer and the only thing I could do was to work with my Dad.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘I became an electrician.’ Richard shrugged off his coat and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair. His eyes didn’t leave Harry’s face until Gloria bent down to put the cottage pie in the oven and then he studied her legs and shapely bottom.

  ‘He still reads a lot.’ When Gloria turned around she shared a smile with Richard.

  ‘That’s good, Harry. What do you read thrillers, crime, sci-fi?’

  ‘Mostly medical journals.’ Gloria replied for Harry.

  ‘Do you study medicine?’ Richard’s eyes widen in surprise.

  ‘No. I’m just interested in health. I work part-time in a care home.’

  ‘Ah, a worthy job.’ Richard took a Bud that Gloria offered him and drank from the bottle. ‘Cheers. You not drinking?’ he said to Harry.

  ‘My stomach isn’t right.’

  ‘We’ll eat in half an hour. I’ll lay the table in the dining room,’ Gloria said, lifting the cutlery and glasses.

  ‘I’ve had these pains for a few days and I haven’t been well for months,’ Harry said wondering if Richard was listening. He didn’t seem to be able to take his gaze from Gloria as she bustled in and out of the room, collecting salt and pepper, and matches for the candles.

  ‘I exercise through pain,’ Richard said.

  ‘I couldn’t do that. Besides it’s not a muscular pain. It would make me worse. I’d be seriously ill.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  Harry nodded.

  Gloria came back into the kitchen and Harry noticed a softness in her eyes that wasn’t there earlier.

  ‘So, are you ill?’ Richard asked.

  ‘I haven’t been feeling very well recently…’

  ‘Have you got a headache?’ Richard asked.

  ‘Yes. How did you know?’

  ‘One that hurts behind the eye?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you feel tired?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about the rest of your body – any pains?’

  ‘In my arm-’

  ‘Oh goodness, I hope it’s not…’

  ‘What?’ Harry leaned forward.

  ‘That new virus, it’s very serious. The one that they’re trying to keep quiet - but a medical reporter has published an article and-’

  ‘Where? What is it?’

  ‘The symptoms are pains in the…right arm.’

  ‘Mine is in my left,’ Harry sighed and lifted his arm. ‘See? It hurts.’

  ‘Is that your writing arm?’ Richard asked.

  ‘No, the opposite.’

  ‘That’s what it said in the article. The pains are always in the opposite arm to your writing arm and you can only lift it to here or it hurts.’

  Richard raised his arm to his shoulder height so their fingers almost touched.

  Harry blinked. ‘It hurts.’

  ‘Do you get tummy pains?’ Richard asked.

  ‘Sometimes - yes.’

  ‘All across here?’ Richard’s big hand touched his stomach.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And tell me, do you get short of breath.’

  Harry’s eyes widened. ‘Sometimes…yes...’

  Richard looked at Gloria and shook his head. ‘This isn’t good.’

  Gloria turned away and Harry thought she had tears in her eyes.

  ‘Tell me, what is it?’ he asked.

  ‘I can’t be sure but it can’t be a coincidence…’

  ‘Do you think I have it?’

  ‘You seem to have the same symptoms-’

  ‘Is it serious?’

  ‘It depends, if it’s treated in time…’

  ‘And what if they don’t?’

  Richard shook his head. ‘Abyssinian drop-foot takes no prisoners.’

  Gloria dropped the colander and it clattered in the sink.

  Harry thought she was upset. Her shoulders were hunched over and they shook. He thought he would hug her and reassure her that he would be okay. Well, he hoped he would be. Since their parents died five years ago they lived together and she would be all alone if anything happened to him. He couldn’t be ill. He couldn’t possibly be sick.

  ‘Is it life threatening?’ he asked.

  Richard stroked his beard. ‘Well…it might be.’

  ‘Why haven’t I heard about it?’

  ‘They’re keeping a lid on it at the moment in case of an epidemic.’

  ‘Epidemic?’

  Richard nodded. ‘It comes from the Arctic.’

  ‘The Arctic?’ Harry thought for a second. ‘Gloria, Mrs Melloway went on that cruise to the Arctic just a few weeks before she came into the home. She’s only been back a month.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Richard slapped his forehead.

  ‘She did! Do you remember, Gloria? I told you. I said that since she came back, she wasn’t herself. She had a sore throat and a temperature.’

  ‘Have you got a sore throat?’ Richard asked.

  Harry felt the glands at the side of his neck. He stretched his throat muscles and opened his mouth wide as if yawning. He coughed and swallowed hard. ‘It does feel a bit tight.’

  ‘And what about your ears? Can you hear me alright?’

  ‘I think so.’ Harry shook his head and rocked his neck.

  ‘Temperature?’ asked Richard.

  Harry leaned forward so Richard could feel for himself. His hand was cold on Harry’s forehead.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ Richard said. ‘You’re extremely hot - too hot. I hope you haven’t caught it.’

  Harry swallowed. His throat felt swollen and sore and his voice rasped when he spoke. ‘Abby what?’

  ‘Abyssinian Drop-Foot.’

  ‘Where is Abyssinia?’ Harry looked at Gloria.

  ‘Old Egypt,’ she replied.

  ‘So why does it come from the Arctic?’ asked Harry looking at Richard.

  ‘Dinner’s ready,’ Gloria called. She opened the oven and carried the cottage pie, using oven gloves, to the dining room.

  ‘I think she’s upset,’ Harry whispered.

  ‘It’s a virulent virus that began in the middle-east but only became more rampant since it thrives on…cold weather.’

  ‘And what happens?’

  ‘It makes people’s feet go numb. Have you-’

  ‘Yes.’ Harry rotates his ankle. ‘I think I’ve got tingling in my-’

  ‘It’s best to stay hot and in isolation.’

  ‘And if not?’

  ‘You could be putting Gloria and me in danger.’

  Harry’s mouth dropped open and he covered it quickly with his hand. ‘What shall we do?’

  ‘I think what we should do is what the other people did – the ones who survived.’

  ‘Su
rvived? What did they do?’

  ‘Twelve hours. Quarantine. Complete darkness.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, because it seems that in the dark, our body generates bio-allergic atoms and combined with endorphins that our body produces when we are asleep, our body temperature rises and-’

  ‘Sleep?’

  ‘Oh, yes, you must sleep. There’s a herb in a natural sleeping tablet – I can’t remember the name of it now – but it’s very special and when taken, you lay in the dark and sleep for ten hours and your body warmth increases, and all the symptoms disappear and you can be cured in a matter of hours.’

  ‘I’ve got some herbal sleeping tablets.’

  ‘No? Really –that’s great news. Gloria,’ Richard shouted. ‘Stay in the dining room just in case it’s contagious and I’ll take Harry upstairs and make sure he takes a herbal tablet. Come on, Harry. Let me help you.’ Richard took Harry’s arm and led him gently upstairs.

  ‘That’s kind. Are you sure you don’t mind, Richard?’

  ‘There’s no need to worry. The other thing is music. Your body produces music-morphines that make you relax and allow the sleeping tablet to work more effectively. Oh, you’ve an iPod. Yes, definitely pop those in your ears, lie down and sleep and you’ll be cured in no time.’

  Downstairs Gloria smiled and took out her purse. She placed a crisp twenty on the table beside Richard’s plate and sat waiting. She was happy she lost the bet. Everyone was happy.

  Harry got the attention he wanted and they would have a candle-lit dinner after all.

  She poured a glass of Burgundy and lifted it to the ceiling and the creaking boards upstairs: to a romantic evening with Richard, the man of my dreams.

  But there was a tingling sensation creeping up her left-foot and the pain was spreading behind her eyes toward her temple.

  My Lost Brother

  He’s arriving anytime soon. In fact, he’s fifteen minutes late. I’m surprised. I emailed him my address. Perhaps he’s lost? Could he have changed his mind? His messages sounded eager enough but he said he was busy. He’s a carpenter - just like Jesus.

  I’m talking aloud and staring out of the window into the tree lined street of my suburban home.