Angel on my Shoulder

by Carl Leckey

  I grab a newspaper and place it on my knee to cover my exposed wilting member. Taking another paper from a small table I pretend to be reading as he enters the room. I can see Oscar is pleased with himself as he sits in an armchair opposite me. “Well Adam my friend the deal is done. Except for the paper work, the site is ours. There is another piece of news I am quite pleased with. I excluded the back garden from the deal. The coach house the parking area at the back of the house stay in my possession. My banker friend wasn’t interested in that piece of the property at all.”

  I am trying my best to be attentive but while he is divulging this excellent news. I am worrying about exposing myself and bringing shame on myself and Denise.

  Oscar continues with even more details of the deal he has just struck. “But listen to this my friend. There is another interesting fact that arose during our discussions. The flower shop next door is part of the deal. I didn’t know Madam owned that as well. Oh yes, they haven’t paid any rent to me since I took charge. I shall have to look into that. Mind you if I am to part with it I will let the new owner sort that out. I bet the flower shop goes back into their old business again, disgusting!” He shudders. I smile and muse. “Well Denise told me it was part of this house originally. I suppose that’s why there is the other staircase the officers used, maybe that was the servants area. I don’t know Oscar it keeps getting better.”

  He hurriedly changes the subject. “I can’t wait to get driving. I feel the need to go to my fiancée’s farm as soon as possible. How long do you think it will take you to teach me to drive?” “That is a question I can’t answer honestly Oscar. Some people pick it up quicker than others. I say you will take about a week.” My estimation evidently pleases him he responds.

  “That is fine, when you consider me a competent driver I will load up the vehicle with all kinds of useful things and off I will go. Now there is only one thing that worries me. He hesitates. “What is it Oscar?” I inquire. “Now I have an identity card I need to go away to Paris for a few days, are you be trusted not to dishonour Denise if I leave you alone together. You know how I feel about subjects like that. I feel very responsible for the child?” Denise enters from the kitchen looking rather red faced. Oscar asks. “Are you alright my dear you’re rather flustered have you been slaving over the washing again? You really should take it easy, sit with us and share our plans after all they concern you as much as Adam and I.” Talk about embarrassment. I’m sitting on the chez-lounge with Denise sitting next to me who five minutes before had very nearly? Under the newspaper my naughty boy is lurking hanging his head in shame and my friend asks me if I am to be trusted? There is no answer to that, I feel Denise should also share the guilt after all she wasn’t entirely innocent in the near happening. Oscar stands up to light a gas mantle.

  I seize the opportunity to make myself respectable while his back is turned. I do believe I witness a secret smile on Denise’s lips. Then it is off to bed to dream of my near voyage into another wonderful Garden of Eden, though on this occasion it would have been to a garden unsullied by others.

  I am up early next morning after a very restless night. Denise is in the kitchen already preparing food for today’s meals. She has her hands in a deep sink of water washing vegetables. I move up behind her and give her a cuddle kissing the nape of her. She responds by wriggling her bottom against me and gives a delightful girlish giggle. I find I am rising to the occasion. Denise definitely feels it as she presses even harder against me when Oscar enters with a cheery. “Bonne jour, mes enfantes, comment allez vous?” I love this man but he does have a habit of turning up at the most inappropriate times. I disentangled my arms from around my beloved and respond to his greeting in poor German picked up from the POW wounded. Gutten targ, Mein Herr.” Oscar laughs with delight at my attempt to speak his language. “I must teach you French Adam so that you are able to communicate with your bride in the language of love.” Denise gives another childish giggle. Enough of this frivolity I have things on my mind and they don’t include company even though it was my dear pal Oscar. “By the way Oscar, have you the keys for the coach house and stables, I would like to have a look around if it’s alright with you? I have been thinking, if you are to retain ownership of the garden and the out buildings we should be thinking about separating the area and maybe fencing it. The garden is very overgrown but I reckon with a lot of hard work it could be a very nice site. I notice there are fruit trees and raspberry canes, all in need attention of course.” “You know Adam I must admit I haven’t been out there. By all means go and explore. I’m not sure about the keys but hanging in the hall is a board with many on, try them.” After breakfast I check out the key board. There are indeed lots of them some with little brass labels but many without. Unfortunately the language used on the labels is French which doesn’t help me at all. In the end I bring them all into the kitchen and drop them on the table. Oscar sorts through the heap interpreting the labels. Eventually he identifies the ones I need for the outbuildings. Oscar reveals his plans for this morning. “Adam you go ahead and explore let me know what you advise; maybe we should hire a builder to sort out the garden and separation of the properties. I’m sure funds will stand this.

  I need to go out again, Denise do you need anything, I will enjoy visiting the market?” She writes a note and hands it over to him before he leaves. I can’t help wondering what Oscar is up to today.

  “May I come with you to look at the buildings in the garden? I love exploring things.” Denise asks with a teasing smile.

  I don’t know? Since the incident last night things she says seem to have double meaning. God! I love this girl and the memory of last night’s little adventure is still in my mind and trousers. Evil thoughts flash through my mind. I wonder how long Oscar will be away from the house giving us some time on our own.

  Is Denise still in the mood for love? If she is where should I try my hand and continue where we were interrupted last night? One glimpse of her lovely innocent face and my conscience tells me. Wait until you are married. I push the evil intentions away and clasp her hand as we walk towards the charabanc. The garden is still a tangle of weeds and nettles, however Denise sees the potential. She points out the various fruit trees raspberry canes. Sadly all the trees are much neglected, in need of a skilful loving hand. I am not a gardener, never have been and honestly I don’t want to be. Where I spent my childhood and early teens in Birkenhead streets and alleys they were my playground. I recall we would raid the Priests apple and pear trees before he had the chance to harvest them. He had the only cultivated garden in my territory.

  I advise Denise.

  “I won’t have much time to sort this out my love. We shall have to get someone with gardening skills in to clear it up.” “Oh yes.” She replies enthusiastically. “I love having a garden. Just imagine? We will have fresh fruit and vegetables out of our own garden. That is something my Grandfather was good at.” She giggles as she reminds me.” Do you remember when you tried to steal his flowers at the chateau?” I join her in laughter as I recall how he attacked me for picking a few blooms for the Officers Mess. I remind her. “That was the day I first set eyes on the woman I decided will be my wife.” She replies with a taunting smile. “And who was that then?” I make a grab for her, she dashes towards the charabanc. I catch up with her by the vehicles door. She submits with the shout. “I surrender Dear sir. Do with me as you will.” If only? Oscars warning of no, no, until you are married haunts me. I don’t want to betray my friend. Taking Denise in my arms I settle for a long passionate kiss.

  CHAPTER 5

  The Coach House

  Denise admires Pompey Lill before we attempt entry into the coach house. She smiles as I admire my acquisition. “Ah Cheri!” she laughs. “Just look at you, a big business man. Is this the first of his many vehicles? Will you still love poor me when you are rich and famous? Where will it all end?” I move towards her with a silly grin on my face “I will love you forever my sweet e
ven though you will be just my poor slave looking after my every whim.” I take her in my arms kiss her passionately and swear undying love to her. Reluctantly we part and begin our exploration of the coach house.

  It is a struggle but eventually I manage to turn the key and shoulder one of the doors of the coach house open. It screeches on rusty hinges as I force it inward. It is hard to see the interior because all the windows are shuttered. The only light entering is through the now open door. I step inside closely followed by Denise. We stand nervously when a pigeon flutters passed frightening the life out of Denise who promptly races out of the building. Fortunately I locate a pick axe in a tool rack just inside the door. Taking it outside I drive the point under one of the shutters and prize it off. It drops with a crash onto something solid hidden in the weeds, the rest of the shutters fall in quick succession.

  We re-enter the coach house to be confronted with an unexpected sight. There are two large objects completely covered with light canvas shrouds. I lift a corner to reveal a highly decorated coach. Painted on the door is an elaborate coat of arms

  Under the other cover there is another coach not so grand, still it is in very good condition. The shafts of the two coaches are hanging on the wall along with harnesses. Denise doesn’t appear interested in my discovery she has located a staircase in a corner. She calls me over. “Adam please will you accompany me up here?” Before we go any further I notice a door under the stairs. This door takes some shifting until it finally breaks free of the hinges collapsing inward when I ram it with my shoulder. It really wasn’t worth the effort the small room is a French type privy. A coal burning wash-boiler is sited at the far end close to another exterior door I hadn’t noticed from the outside. A large tin bath hangs on the wall close by. Moving out of the small room we approach the stairs as something draws my attention. “Look at this Denise they must have used it to lower something down from above.

  It was most probably used for a piece of heavy furniture.”

  I draw her attention to a frayed piece of rope secured to a ring bolt in a roof beam close to the staircase.

  Strange! I wonder why the rope is swinging to and fro in a slow arc.

  Yet there is no wind? I wonder why all of a sudden I feel a chill.

  Ah! It is winter after all a puff of cold wind must have penetrated the coach house. Never mind we push on.

  I test the stairs before we ascend. Although filthy with pigeon droppings they are solid enough. Apprehensively we climb the stairs. There is a small landing at the top revealing two doors. A broken window has permitted the pigeons to enter, hence the muck everywhere. We choose the one nearest, When, I try the lock, unexpectedly the handle turns easily and the door swings inward with no effort. The interior is not in total darkness a glimmer of light penetrates. Denise strides over to the window carefully avoiding the furniture that litters the room. She attempts to draw back the drapes but instead they come completely away dropping to the floor in a cloud of dust. The incoming light reveals a very nice room complete with furniture. An unusual item located opposite the window to catch the maximum light is a dusty full length mirror. A door in the corner leads to a small but well appointed kitchen fitted with a coal burning stove for cooking purposes. Over a stone sink is a brass hand pump. When we return to the living room I can’t believe my Denise, she immediately begins to tidy the place. I try to dissuade her but she smiles and carries on. Leaving her doing what she evidently enjoys I make my way across the landing to the other door. Again the door opens easily onto a bedroom containing a huge brass ended bed. This time the drapes open easily to reveal what is a very pretty room. Under the window is a small dressing table where a cob web adorned ewer and bowl sit. I turn around to see Denise standing in the doorway. I take her in my arms. “Denise wouldn’t it be nice if we could live here, I love you so much.” She responds passionately to my kiss and embrace. The sight of the large bed looks very inviting. Could I continue where I left off last night?

  “Oh Adam it is such a pretty house it feels so good to me, I wonder?” She stops in mid sentence as we detect footsteps ascending the stairs. I rush out of the room to greet Oscar as he arrives at the landing. Bloody hell! I shall have to find somewhere where we will not be disturbed or definitely wait until we are married. Talk about frustration. He expresses his delight. “What a nice place, I can’t believe I have lived in the house without discovering this little treasure.” Oscar does a quick tour of the apartment. He declares. “This is very impressive.” I ask him. “What about the coaches downstairs, have you had a look at them?”

  “No I came straight up here.” He replies. “Then let’s go and have a look now you will be really surprised when you see what’s under the covers. Are you coming Denise?” I invite her. She is looking into the drawers of the dressing table she replies thoughtfully. “No thanks. I’ll just stay here a while.”

  Down stairs Oscar and I draw the canvas sheet off the first coach.

  “Wow! What a magnificent vehicle.” Oscar says admiringly. I can only stand and stare in wonder. In a whisper he asks. “I wonder how long have they been here? Who would virtually abandon such wonderful vehicles? What happened to the persons that lived and worked here?” An idea strikes me. “Hey Oscar look at the coat of arms on the door, it should give us a clue to who were the owners.” After wandering about and examining the other contents of the coach house Oscar looks at his watch. He returns hurriedly to the house after informing me he has an appointment.

  I make my way back upstairs to find Denise sitting on the bed reading the contents of a leather bound diary. Alongside her is a bundle of papers tied with a pink ribbon. I can see she is totally engrossed as she pats the bed and invites me to join her.” What’s all this about then?” I ask picking up the bundle and undoing the ribbon. “It’s fascinating!” She replies. “The date of this diary is 1815. Do you realise this was when the battle of Waterloo was fought? It is like a piece of history written by an officer in Napoleons Imperial Guard a Captain Etienne Louise Sabelle, his regiment was the Labous VI Corp. The last entry is from when he was stationed at La Belle Alliance in Belgium. Look Adam, the entries finish on the 18th of June 1815. That is when the big battle was fought. See here on the back pages a dark brown stain? I believe this is a blood stain. God! I wonder what happened to him.” Denise is really enjoying herself as her imagination runs wild. I find myself getting caught up in her excitement. “This is a mystery. I reply. “If he was killed at Waterloo how did the diary get back here?” I had opened the bundle but the writing means nothing to me. The yellowing of the paper and the faded ink makes them difficult to read anyway. “I can’t read these they are in French. Denise they are a bit fragile we should be careful with them” I inform her. While she continues to study the diary I wander about looking in wardrobes and other storage areas. Hanging in a small recessed alcove there is a beautiful wedding dress protected by a paper cover and camphor balls. Along with it are all the bridal accoutrement’s necessary for a wedding. I remind myself to point this out to Denise when she is not so engrossed in the diary.

  The other wardrobes are completely packed with old fashioned dresses and other accessories. There is one particular drawer already open that catches my eye. It contains a neatly folded uniform coat with signs of dried mud adhering to the elaborate gold embroidery and material, Denise looks up from her reading. “That’s the drawer where I found the diary and papers.” she informs me. I hold the coat up to examine it when I notice the blood stains and the large slash in the shoulder area. I have seen evidence of many wounds on soldier’s uniforms in my career as an ambulance driver but the one I am looking at is not familiar. I muse more or less to myself as Denise is engrossed in the contents of the diary.