My Neighbours Are Stealing My Mail

by Ian Edwards

  ‘Where are you going to get a wooden stake in the next…’ Frankie looked up at the clock. ‘Twenty minutes?’

  Alan looked out of the window into the garden seemingly seeking inspiration. Frankie watched as he turned and opened a drawer. He shook his head and opened another drawer. ‘That’ll do,’ he said and removed several wooden spoons of varying sizes.

  ‘Wooden spoons?’ Frankie said.

  Alan shook his head. ‘Not anymore. Travel stakes.’

  He opened another draw, took out a carrier bag and dropped the spoons in to it.

  ‘Right, I’m going to need some garlic.’

  ‘Vampires again,’ Frankie said.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Pretty sure. Unless things have changed since my day.’

  Alan shrugged. ‘OK.’

  ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ Frankie said.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘In the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy defeated the witch by throwing a bucket of water over her.’

  Alan looked blankly back at Frankie. ‘I never saw that film,’ he admitted. ‘But I’m happy to consider anything.’ He stepped over to the fridge, taking out a bottle of sparkling water. ‘That’ll do,’ he said, dropping it into his bag.

  ‘I’m not sure it was sparkling water she used in the film.’

  Alan shrugged. ‘The bubbles will speed up the process, so it’s probably better.’

  Frankie considered this for a moment. ‘Good point.’

  Alan put his bag of spoons and water on the table. ‘Right, as soon you see something that isn’t right, do something ghostly. Cause a distraction and I’ll go at them with the spoons and water.’

  Frankie winced. ‘I don’t think you should do anything too hasty.’

  Any opportunity for Alan to respond was interrupted by Rosie coming into the room.

  ‘Are you ready?’ She asked while taking a bottle of wine from the fridge.

  He nodded. ‘I suppose so, but if they’re sitting round a cauldron, I’m out of there.’

  ‘Don’t start, Alan.’ Rosie warned.

  Alan put his hands up in surrender, so Rosie passed him the bottle of wine which he placed in his already heavy bag.

  ‘Lead on,’ he said and followed his girlfriend out of the kitchen.

  *

  ‘I hope they’ve put that hound to bed,’ Frankie said to Alan as they trailed Rosie towards Joy and Dawn’s front door.

  ‘Don’t count on it,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sure it’ll want to be in at the kill.’

  As Rosie reached out to ring the doorbell, the door slowly opened. Dawn stood bathed in darkness, smiling at them.

  ‘That’s not spooky at all,’ Frankie said and Alan stifled a laugh.

  ‘Hi guys,’ Dawn said cheerily as Rosie and Alan filtered past her into the hall. ‘I’m really glad you could come. Alan, Joy’s really looking forward to talking to you,’ she said, closing the door behind them, nearly catching Frankie who stepped round it just in time. ‘She’s in the garden at the moment collecting frogs.’

  Rosie frowned and instinctively looked at Alan who smiled back at her innocently. If nothing else, he thought, he would have the satisfaction of knowing that he was right as they sucked his soul out of him.

  ‘Frogs?’ Rosie repeated.

  ‘Yes, one of the gardens a few doors up have a pond. It’s been so hot and dry lately that it’s been attracting frogs from all over. Some have ended up in our garden. Every evening Joy goes round the garden collecting them up and takes them back to the pond.’

  ‘I see,’ Rosie said and smiled at Alan.

  On queue Joy appeared holding a bucket.

  ‘I’m just on the frog run. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.’ She opened the front door and went out clutching her bucket.

  ‘Where’s Mr Licky?’ Rosie asked as Dawn led them through to the kitchen.

  ‘He’s still in the garden,’ Dawn told them. ‘He likes to help Joy with the frogs. She’ll bring him in when she gets back.’

  ‘He helps with frogs,’ Rosie repeated. ‘That’s so cute.’

  ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ Dawn agreed with a smile.

  *

  Ten minutes later Alan sat in the spare room, which he was told was being used as Joy’s study. She had returned from the frog run with an empty bucket a few minutes earlier and ushered Alan up to her study where she said he could share his story.

  He sat in the room that only recently he and James had poked around in to unearth Dawn and Joy’s secret. The room hadn’t changed. Books were lined up on shelves and piled on the desk. One title in particular caught Alan’s attention; The History of Witchcraft in Southern England which was littered with several strips of paper serving as book marks.

  Alan reached out for the book when Frankie appeared next to him.

  ‘Where is she?’ He asked, sitting down in the other chair in the room.

  ‘She’s just popped downstairs for some coffee,’ Alan told him and tapped the book. ‘Look at this,’ he pulled it closer to them. ‘More evidence.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Frankie said dismissively. ‘Anyway, where’s the dog?’

  ‘He’s downstairs eating. You should be OK for a bit. Until he gets restless.’

  ‘Have you got your bag?’

  Alan picked his carrier bag from the floor, held it up and gave it a shake, spoons banging against the bottle.

  ‘All ready. I’m just waiting for her to give me a reason.’

  ‘Well I wouldn’t be too hasty,’ Frankie gestured around the room. ‘I’m sure there’s a very good reason for all this.’

  Alan looked around the room. The small box room appeared to be bursting at the seams, full of books, posters and DVDs all related to the supernatural, the occult and…

  ‘There’s a Jim Davidson DVD on this shelf,’ Frankie said, scanning the shelves.

  ‘Oh my God, it’s worse than we thought,’ Alan said. ‘Maybe it’ll be kinder if I just threw the water over her now.’

  The door opened and Joy stepped in, holding a mug in each hand.

  ‘Here you go,’ she said putting both mugs on the desk. ‘Were you OK? I could you hear you chatting away to yourself.’

  ‘I was on the phone, just checking up on my friend. Seeing how she is,’ Alan lied.

  Frankie left the chair and stepped to one side, freeing it up so that Joy could drop into it.

  ‘So, tell me about your friend. What happened? Dawn said she was at the Merton Palace Theatre...?’

  Alan put his mug down. ‘Sarah, my agent. Manager. I suppose a friend as well, she’s been involved with the refurbishment of the theatre…’ Alan went to explain what had happened as he had to Rosie and Dawn earlier.

  Joy sat and listened intently, occasionally sipping from her mug. At one point she asked Alan to pause whilst she wrote something down on a pad.

  ‘…And that’s all Sarah can remember,’ Alan said, finishing his account of Sarah’s story.

  ‘That’s fascinating,’ Joy said. ‘Thank you for sharing it with me.’

  Alan smiled. ‘That’s OK, Dawn said you’d be interested to hear about it.’

  Joy leaned across to one of the bulging bookcases, causing Frankie to shift to one side. She ran her fingers across several books before pulling one out.

  ‘This is what I’m looking for. A book about haunted theatres.’ She opened the book and started flicking through the pages.

  ‘Hey son, look at these,’ Frankie said and pointed up at the display cabinet. ‘Are these the voodoo masks you were telling me about?’

  Alan looked at Frankie and nodded.

  Frankie grinned and laughed.

  ‘So, is this your hobby?’ Alan asked. ‘The paranormal?’

  Joy looked up from scrutinising the book. ‘There’s no record of the Merton Palace Theatre having a ghost or any reported supernatural occurrence. Sorry Alan, what did you say?’

  ‘Is this your hobby?’

  Joy laughed. ‘Not exactly.
..It’s my job.’

  Alan stared at her, discreetly slipping his hand in the bag for a spoon.

  ‘What do you mean?’ He asked.

  ‘I work for the Explanations Channel.’

  Alan stared blankly back at her.

  ‘It’s a cable channel. We focus on the unexplained and make documentaries trying to solve mysteries and the unexplained.’ She looked at Alan. ‘You haven’t heard of it, have you?’

  He shook his head. ‘Sorry, I’m out most nights so I don’t get much time for TV.’

  Joy laughed. ‘It’s OK, we’re not that well known.’

  ‘OK, so what’s that got to do with Sarah’s accident?’

  ‘It’s obvious,’ Frankie mumbled, shaking his head.

  ‘For the last couple of years, I’ve been producing a show called Scared Stiff. It’s a series of live ghost hunts from various haunted sites. Last month we did a show live from the site of the old Borley Rectory,’ she paused. ‘It was England’s most famous haunted house. Have you heard of it?’

  ‘I have,’ Frankie said loud enough to startle Alan. ‘It’s legendary in the ghost community. Every ghost aspires to get an opportunity to do some haunting there, you’ve got to be on your A-game to get a spot.’

  Alan shook his head. ‘Sorry it doesn’t ring any bells.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Anyway, we were supposed to be doing a live show from an alleged haunted house in Camden in a couple of weeks but that fell through when it turned out the house wasn’t actually haunted.’

  ‘It wasn’t?’

  ‘No, it turned out the local kids were up to mischief. That and a tube tunnel ran directly underneath the house. So, I’ve been looking for a new venue without any success, and then Dawn told me about the theatre and I thought it would be perfect.’

  ‘For a live TV ghost hunt?’ Alan added.

  ‘Exactly. What do you think?’

  Alan frowned. ‘No idea. It’s got nothing to do with me. My involvement begins and ends with playing a gig there last year.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame. Do you know who I could speak to?’

  ‘I guess it would be either the arts council or the local council itself. Sarah would know.’

  ‘Would it be possible to meet her?’ Joy asked. ‘If I could explain what I’d like to do she might be able to fix an appointment with the people who could approve the show.’

  ‘I suppose I could ask her,’ Alan said.

  ‘That’s brilliant, thanks.’

  ‘So, all these books.’ Alan gestured around the room. ‘You use them for work?’

  Joy nodded. ‘All for research,’ she laughed. ‘Why, did you think I was a witch?’

  Frankie folded his arms. ‘Go on son, get yourself out of this one.’

  Alan glared at Frankie. ‘No of course not,’ he laughed nervously.

  ‘Don’t forget to ask about the voodoo masks,’ Frankie told him.

  Alan was silent for a moment before asking; ‘Are those voodoo masks for research as well?’

  Joy frowned. ‘What voodoo masks?’

  Alan pointed at the display cabinet. ‘Those ones.’

  Joy and Frankie both laughed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh Alan, you really are very funny. They’re my BAFTA’s.’

  ‘Ahhh,’ Alan looked over at Frankie, who smirked in return. ‘I’m sorry I’ve never seen one close up.’

  ‘That can easily be remedied,’ Joy said, standing up and taking one out of the cabinet. ‘There you go,’ she said and passed it to him.

  ‘Oh yes, close up I can see it’s a BAFTA.’ He put the award on the desk.

  ‘You’re not fooling anyone, son,’ Frankie grinned.

  Alan slumped back into the chair. He reached into his bag and took out the bottle of water. ‘Do you fancy a glass of fizzy water?

  *

  ‘Did you know?’ Alan asked Rosie seconds after she had closed the front door.

  ‘Did I know what, dear?’ She replied innocently.

  ‘That Joy is a TV producer and was interested in making a programme about the theatre?’

  ‘Oh that,’ Rosie said, wandering into the living room. ‘No, I only found out earlier.’

  Alan mumbled something under his breath and dropped into the sofa.

  Rosie sat down next to him and put her arm round his shoulder. ‘Are you annoyed that your little theory has proved to be nonsense?’ She teased.

  Alan sighed. ‘OK, I accept the idea they were witches may not have been right, but that was James’s idea anyway. I still think they have my mail.’

  ‘Alan!’ Rosie warned and removed her arm from his shoulder. ‘Can we stop the nonsense now?’

  ‘I’m sure they’ve got it. But do you know what’s even worse?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They have a Jim Davidson DVD.’

  Chapter 38

  Alan looked at Sarah. She was still just as bruised, battered and bandaged as she had been the previous day.

  ‘Well I have to say that you’re looking a lot better,’ he said.

  Sarah smiled and then winced. ‘Thanks, but I don’t feel it. I feel like I’ve been trampled by an elephant.’

  Alan reached across and took the Get Well Soon card from the bedside table. It was a bland card with the message Get Well Soon printed across the plain pink front. Inside the printed greeting read ‘Get Well Soon Love From Giles Monroe.’

  Alan put the card back. ‘I see Giles has really made an effort. There’s not even any grapes.’

  ‘He hasn’t been into see me...yet,’ Sarah told him. ‘He’s really busy at the moment with that TV show. So he ordered the card online. I got it this morning.’

  Alan rolled his eyes. ‘I suppose it’s the thought that counts.’ He took another two cherries from the plastic tray he had bought in with him. ‘I’m really getting a taste for these.’

  Sarah watched as he dropped the stones back in the tub.

  Alan wiped his hands on the bed. ‘When are you getting out?’ He asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I saw the Doctor this morning. He’s concerned about a concussion and wants to make sure I won’t need an operation on my arm.’

  Alan nodded. ‘Oh, right.’

  Sarah laughed. ‘It’s OK. I don’t expect you to visit me every day.’

  ‘It’s not that. The women who live next door to us want to make a TV programme about the Merton Palace Theatre.’

  ‘Sorry Alan, what did you say?’

  ‘One of the women who lives next door to us wants to make a TV programme about the Merton Palace Theatre.’

  ‘But why?’

  Alan took a deep breath and explained about Joy, the TV show Scared Stiff and finished with; ‘…And they’re stealing my mail, but don’t let that influence your decision.’

  Sarah pushed herself up in bed. ‘A live TV ghost hunt from the theatre based solely on my experience?’

  ‘Well, you said yourself there had been a number of incidents recently.’

  ‘My memory of it isn’t great. I’d hate them to base a show simply on my vague recollections.’

  ‘Joy doesn’t seem too concerned with details, but I told her I believed you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sarah smiled. ‘But the decision isn’t mine too make…’ She paused for a moment. ‘I’m not sure who has the final say. I’ll have to speak to my boss, Kris.’

  ‘Great, I’ll let Joy know.’

  Sarah took a sip of water. ‘If I can borrow your phone I’ll call him now.’

  ‘My phone?’

  ‘Mine was broken at the theatre.’

  Alan reluctantly passed her his phone.

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t look at your internet history,’ she laughed at the indignant look on Alan’s face. ‘Your secrets are safe with me.’

  *

  ‘How’s Sarah?’ Rosie asked Alan when they met in the hospital restaurant.

  ‘She seems a bit more alert. She’s not as tired as she was but she still l
ooks bashed around.’ He unwrapped a sandwich. ‘She said they’ve still got a few tests to do so she doesn’t know when she’ll be released.’

  ‘You make it sound like she’s in prison. Patients are discharged not released.’

  Alan shrugged. ‘She’s still too ill to go home…satisfied?’

  Rosie nodded. ‘What were her thoughts on Joy’s TV show?’

  ‘She was very keen.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, I was surprised. She spent a few minutes on the phone to her boss, Kris. He told her he would get all the interested parties together and they’ve arranged to meet this afternoon…’

  ‘That soon?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Alan mumbled through a mouthful of sandwich. ‘At 5pm. Here…’ He paused. ‘Well not here in the restaurant. Up at Sarah’s bed.’

  ‘They’re having a meeting on a hospital ward?’ Rosie asked in disbelief.

  ‘No choice, apparently. They want it sorted quickly and Sarah isn’t going anywhere.’

  Rosie chewed her bottom lip. ‘I’m sure there’s a maximum number of visitors per patient.’

  Alan stayed silent and concentrated on his sandwich. He had no desire to rattle Rosie’s cage and set her off on the blatant disregard of hospital regulations.

  ‘Did you let Joy know?’ She asked after a few seconds.

  ‘I called her. She’s coming too. I’m meeting her outside at five.’

  ‘You’ll be there too?’ She said.

  ‘Sarah just assumed I would, as I know Joy.’

  Rosie rolled her eyes and started on her lunch.

  *

  ‘Alright boss?’

  Hander looked up from his paperwork. Fingers stood in the doorway, his arm in a sling and a large adhesive plaster stuck to his forehead.

  ‘Don’t stand there,’ Hander jumped up and walked round the desk. ‘Come and sit down. I’ll make some tea.’

  Hander pulled a chair away from the desk, gesturing for Fingers to sit, flicked the switch on the kettle and dropped two tea bags into a couple of mugs.

  ‘How are you mate?’ I didn’t think we’d see you for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘I got bored. I thought I’d come and see what’s going on with the…’ Fingers paused for a moment, looking for the right word. ‘Problem...’ he added at last.