My Neighbours Are Stealing My Mail

by Ian Edwards

  Hander laughed. ‘It’s got worse.’ He poured boiling water into the mugs. ‘I invited Miss Gayle and the fella from the council to come and see for themselves what’s been going on.’

  Fingers took the mug of tea offered. ‘And did they see it?’

  Hander sat back down. ‘The council guy couldn’t come but Miss Gayle did.’

  ‘Did she see it?’

  Hander chuckled. ‘She certainly did. It was the worst one yet. ‘Hander sipped his tea while Fingers stared intently. ‘We were in the cellar, we showed her the floor and it all kicked off…’

  Fingers gasped. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Chaos is what happened. It was like a bloody hurricane down there. Everything was blowing around, tools, lights, everything. We just got out before the door slammed shut. Miss Gayle was stuck the other side.’

  ‘Did she see it?’

  ‘I don’t know. When we got the door opened she was unconscious, and she was taken to hospital. I don’t know what she saw, if anything.’

  Fingers took a mouthful of tea and stared into space for a few seconds. ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘She’s still in hospital, so she must be in a pretty bad way.’

  Fingers slowly nodded. ‘I guess so. I was out the same day.’

  ‘I’m going to see her later, I’ll find out a bit more then. There’s some kind of meeting at the hospital.’

  ‘A meeting?’ Fingers repeated. ‘They’re not going to pull the plug, are they?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Hander laughed. ‘Too much money involved. They’re probably going to get an exorcist in.’

  ‘How many people will be at this meeting?’ Fingers asked.

  Hander shrugged. ‘No idea. Miss Gayle, obviously, and I suppose the usual crowd from the arts council and the local authority.’

  ‘You should check with the hospital before you go.’

  ‘Check what?’

  ‘To see if the hospital will allow it. There’s rules about the number of visitors each patient is allowed.’

  Hander frowned. He was about to question the relevance of Fingers statement when his foot brushed against something. He reached down and picked it up.

  ‘What’s that?’ Fingers asked, looking at the object in Hander’s palm.

  Hander turned it over in his hand. ‘It’s a ball. Just like the one we found on the stairs.’

  *

  Joy was already waiting for Alan when he arrived at the hospital, standing in the shade outside the main entrance, looking at her phone.

  As he drew closer she looked up and slipped her phone into a leather satchel slung over her shoulder.

  ‘Hi Alan,’ she said. She removed her sunglasses, placing them in her satchel alongside her phone. ‘Thanks for sorting this out for me. I’m really grateful.’

  ‘Sarah was really interested,’ he told her. ‘We’ll have to see what the others say, but she was very positive.’

  ‘I imagine there’s quite a few people coming along. I was a bit concerned we wouldn’t be able to have the meeting at all,’ Joy said as they strode through the hospital reception.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The numbers,’ Joy explained. ‘I thought hospitals had a rule about the number of visitors they allowed at any one time.’

  Alan laughed. ‘Rosie said that earlier. I think it’s a bit of an urban myth.’

  *

  ‘You can’t go in,’ an extremely bored nurse told them without looking up from her computer.

  Alan exchanged looks with Joy and turned back to the nurse. ‘I’m sorry?’ Alan replied. ’This is a hospital, isn’t it?’

  Beth Foster had been a nurse for twenty years and she had seen it all. Drunks, trouble makers, hypochondriacs and all manner of ill people. But the ones she really hated were the comedians. She sighed. ‘You know it is and you’re still not coming in.’

  ‘Then why can’t we come in and visit our friend?’ Alan peered at the nurse’s name badge – Beth Foster. ‘Come on, Beth. It’s not like this is an exclusive night club with a guest list, with a sign outside warning us the management have the right to refuse admission.’

  Beth leaned forward and tapped on a laminated sheet of A4 paper pinned to the front of the nurse’s station.

  ONLY THREE VISITORS PER BED, it read.

  ‘Ah,’ Alan said.

  Joy smiled politely. ‘I’m sorry, Beth. I can call you Beth, can I?’ Without waiting for an answer, she continued. ‘It’s just that I’ve travelled a long way to see my friend and I have to go back tonight, so if you could turn a blind eye just this once I’d be extremely grateful,’ she smiled sweetly.

  Beth passed Joy a notebook and a biro. ‘Write her a message and I’ll see she gets it.’ She topped it off with a smile of her own.

  Alan sensed Joy bristle beside him. He reached out, pulling the laminated sheet away from the desk. ‘That sign says only three visitors per bed.’

  Beth stared at him. ‘Yes.’

  ‘My friend and I are actually visiting the patient in the bed next to Sarah Gayle…The heavily bandaged one. They don’t appear to get any visitors, so we’re going to visit them today.’

  ‘What’s their name?’ Beth asked.

  ‘Their name?’ Alan repeated.

  ‘Yes, if you’re visiting them, you should know their name.’

  Alan frowned. ‘It’s err....’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Joy interrupted.

  This time it was Beth’s turn to be confused. ‘Sorry?’

  Joy gave her another smile. ‘Your sign,’ she tapped the laminated document for emphasis, ‘simply says no more than three visitors per bed.’

  Beth looked at the sign herself and pursed her lips.

  ‘So…’ Joy continued. ‘We’re only going to be visiting that patient.’

  ‘Very good,’ Alan muttered under his breath.

  ‘Come on then,’ Joy said and led Alan into the ward before Beth could comment any further.

  *

  From the doorway, Beth watched as Alan and Joy filed past Sarah’s bed and took a chair either side of their new bedridden friend.

  Alan looked at Beth and gave her a cheery wave. Beth frowned, turned on her heels and returned to the nurse’s station.

  Sarah and her three visitors watched as Alan and Joy made themselves comfortable around the bed.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Alan said to the heavily bandaged figure. ‘We couldn’t get any grapes and she…’ he nodded in Sarah’s direction. ‘Is hogging all the cherries.’

  ‘Alan,’ Sarah said quietly. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Sorry Sarah. Carry On Matron over there won’t let us sit with you as apparently you have your full allocation of visitors. So, we’re just going to sit here instead,’ he patted the bed next to him.

  Joy stepped across and offered her hand to Sarah. ‘Hi Sarah, I’m Joy.’

  Sarah shook Joy’s hand and they exchanged pleasantries before Sarah addressed the group. ‘OK everyone, thanks for coming. Before we start I think we should introduce ourselves.’ She took a sip of water and continued. ‘Obviously you all know me and this is Alan.’

  Alan smiled and put his hand up as if he was acknowledging a round of applause.

  The man to Sarah’s right said; ‘Hi everyone, I’m Kris. I work with Sarah at the arts council.’

  ‘I’m David Crozier,’ said David Crozier. ‘I work at the local authority. I’m the liaison with the theatre project.’

  What a knob, Alan thought to himself as Crozier straightened his tie.

  On Sarah’s left, a man said; ‘I’m Hander and I run the building company carrying out the refurbishment.’

  ‘Hi everyone. I’m Joy,’ Joy said. ‘I’m the producer of Scared Stiff and I’d very much like to do a show live from the Merton Palace Theatre.’

  ‘I know that show,’ Hander piped up. ’The one from the London Dungeon scared the living daylights out of my son.’ Hander laughed. ‘He wouldn’t sleep in his own bed for a week afterwards. He
slept with me and the wife.’

  Joy smiled. ‘How old is he?’

  ‘Nineteen,’ Hander said and laughed again.

  Alan bit his tongue to avoid laughing out loud.

  Sarah turned back to Joy. ‘Can you tell us about the show?’

  ‘Yeah, what does it entail?’ Kris asked.

  Joy twisted round in her chair so that she was facing Sarah’s bed and her three visitors. ‘Well, we would normally get there in the morning and set up, run through what we’re going to do…’

  ‘Like a rehearsal?’ Hander interrupted.

  ‘Kind of, yes. We get to know the location and the history, speak to witnesses and get ready to start broadcasting at 10pm.’

  Crozier finally looked up from his phone. ‘How many people do you have involved in this production? Will you be blocking the streets with vehicles and crew?’

  Knob, Alan thought again.

  Joy smiled. ‘We run on a very small crew, just a handful of people involved; a cameraman, a sound man, the presenter, Marjorie Jeffers, and our resident medium, Chester Wideberth. I’ll be there and we always try and get a local historian to provide some background.’

  ‘What do you actually need from us?’ Kris asked. ‘Aside from our permission.’

  ‘Well, we’ll also need your support and access to any records that may be of use.’

  ‘That shouldn’t be a problem,’ Kris confirmed. ‘David, is that going to be OK with the council?’

  Crozier shook his head. ‘I can’t see that being an issue with us either. Is this going to cost us anything?’ He added.

  Knob, Alan thought yet again.

  ‘Nothing at all,’ Joy told them. ‘In fact, appearing on our show normally generates interest from ghost hunters. Fans of the supernatural, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Ghostly Groupies?’ Alan quipped, earning a laugh from Joy and a smirk from Kris.

  ‘You’ll probably attract enough attention to organise ghost tours once the theatre is up and running,’ Joy said. ‘If you market it right it could generate a reasonable income.’

  Crozier had heard enough and stood up. ‘I can’t see the council having any objection. I’ll see that it’s agreed and get something emailed over to you tomorrow.’

  ‘Same with us,’ Kris said.

  ‘When do you want to broadcast?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘This time next week, if that’s OK? We have an available slot.’

  Joy smiled as everyone nodded and confirmed their agreement.

  ‘I’m unlikely to be out of here by then,’ Sarah said. ‘Apparently the doctors want to run a few more tests.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Joy said. ‘But you’ll still be able to watch the show.’

  ‘Better than that. Alan can go in my place. He can keep me updated by phone.’

  ‘What?’ Alan looked at Sarah and then at Joy. ‘Why?’

  ‘It makes sense. You can be my liaison. My eyes and ears.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to be there?’ Alan whined.

  ‘That’s settled then,’ Joy said ignoring Alan’s protests. ‘Do you know, I get the feeling this could be our most memorable show yet.’

  Chapter 39

  Alan, James and Frankie sat in the café opposite the Merton Palace Theatre, watching as two large vans pulled up outside, bumping up onto the kerb before coming to a halt.

  ‘It looks like it’s starting,’ Frankie said.

  Alan looked at his watch. ‘Ten thirty. Joy said they’d be here by eleven.’

  James put his pastry down, craning his neck round Alan so he could see the theatre and its visitors. ‘Do you think they’ll have a catering truck?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘TV companies always lay on food,’ James replied.

  ‘That must get messy,’ Alan grinned.

  ‘…It’s to keep the crew occupied,’ James added, ignoring his friend.

  ‘There’s your answer,’ Frankie said as a lorry joined the vans. It had the words Penne Lane in large red capitals emblazoned on the side. Underneath a more sombre Catering for TV and film locations encircled a badly drawn picture of the Beatles tucking into, what Frankie presumed, was some pasta.

  There you go,’ Alan nodded at the window.

  ‘Brilliant. I wouldn’t want to miss out on free food.’ James pushed his chair back, standing up. ‘I’m going to get another pastry. Fancy one?’

  Alan shook his head. ‘I’m good thanks.’

  James nodded and set off for the counter.

  Frankie sighed. ‘Did you really need to bring him? I don’t think that truck is big enough for his appetite.’

  Alan grinned, slipping an ear bud into his ear. ‘It was a plea from Amy. School only broke up three days ago and he’s already driving her crazy.’

  Frankie laughed while Alan’s phone buzzed and vibrated on the table. A little envelope appeared on the screen. Alan picked up the phone, tapping the envelope.

  ‘It’s from Sarah. She wants to know if everything’s going OK.’

  ‘There hasn’t been a chance for anything to go wrong yet,’ Frankie pointed out. ‘Even by your standards it’s too soon for you to cock anything up.’

  Alan scowled across the table and thumbed out a reply;

  ‘All Good Here.’

  He pressed send, slipping the phone into his pocket. ‘That should keep her happy for a while.’

  ‘Did I miss anything?’ James asked as he sat down, placing a plate of bacon sandwiches on the table.

  ‘Only Sarah checking up,’ Alan told him while helping himself to one of the sandwiches.

  ‘She’s keen. You haven’t had a chance to screw up yet. It’s early days.’

  ‘Bit harsh mate,’ Alan said, feigning indignation. ‘This has nothing to do with me. If I’m honest I don’t even want to be here. I’m only here because Sarah’s still in hospital.’

  ‘So you’re not even slightly excited?’ James asked.

  Alan shook his head. ‘No. You can do that for both of us.’

  ‘Here we go,’ Frankie said, looking at the scene from the window. ‘Looks like the boss is here.’

  Alan turned to look outside where Joy stood by one of the vans, talking to the driver.

  ‘Come on,’ he told James. ‘Finish your breakfast and we’ll go over.’

  James pushed a bacon sandwich into his mouth, grabbed a pastry from the plate and mumbled something unintelligible as he followed Alan and Frankie out of the café.

  *

  Alan led Frankie and James across the road onto the pavement, stepping between one of the vans and the catering lorry. He waved at Joy and stopped at the far end of the van, giving her space to finish her conversation.

  ‘I’m going to take a look round,’ Frankie said, looking over Alan’s shoulder at the gap in the hoardings.

  ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,’ Alan told him and leaned back against the van, hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans.

  ‘Frankie?’ James asked, hungrily looking over Alan’s shoulder at the catering lorry which appeared to be setting up ready for service.

  ‘He’s gone off to explore.’

  James nodded and continued watching the caterers set up.

  ‘Hi Alan,’ Joy said, appearing next to them. ‘Sorry about that. It’s all a bit hectic at the moment…’ She paused as someone manhandled a large coil of electrical cable by their feet. ‘Can you leave that by the doors?’ She called out, turning back to Alan.

  Alan introduced James, who received an enthusiastically warm welcome.

  ‘I’m going to be really busy for a few hours setting everything up, so you can both go wherever you like. Take these…’ She slipped her hand into her satchel, took out two lanyards. ‘These are access all areas passes. You can go anywhere, talk to anyone and most importantly you can eat whatever you like from the caterers here…’ She nodded at the catering lorry.

  James’s face lit up. ‘Brilliant. Thanks.’

  ‘OK, I’ll see you late
r,’ she said, heading back to the driver of the van struggling with a large crate.

  ‘She seems nice enough,’ James said as he put the lanyard over his head.

  ‘A few weeks ago you were convinced she was a witch. It’s funny how quickly you change your mind when you’re offered free food.’

  James grinned. ‘Everyone has their price.’

  Alan looked around. Hander stood at the door looking particularly distressed. ‘Come on,’ he put his hand on James’s shoulder. ’I know him. Let’s go and speak to him.’

  Hander smiled at Alan as he approached. ‘A familiar face,’ he said, shaking Alan’s hand. ‘How’s Miss Gayle?’

  ‘Well enough to call me several times an hour to see if everything’s OK.’

  Hander laughed. ‘Still in charge. Even from her hospital bed.’

  Alan nodded and introduced James.

  ‘Come on I’ll show you round,’ Hander led Alan and James into the theatre.

  *

  ‘I played here just before it closed down,’ Alan told Hander as he led them through the passageways. ‘The charity fundraiser night.’

  ‘Oh right,’ Hander acknowledged, with what Alan thought was distinct lack of interest.

  Alan looked at the freshly painted walls behind the plastic sheeting. ‘It certainly looks like you’ve been busy.’

  ‘Well it’s not been for the want of trying,’ Hander said. ‘Here we go,’ he announced, leading them into the foyer. ‘This is where it all started. And where the weird stuff happens,’ he casually gestured around.

  Alan and James took in the models and plans, which looked to have been haphazardly repaired with tape and hastily put back on show.

  James stood in front of the model, lifting the roof from the theatre, which collapsed onto itself. He placed the bits of model theatre back onto the felt table, stepping away before anyone noticed.

  ’Everything looks a bit battered,’ he said, wiping his hands clean of guilt.

  ‘That’ll be the poltergeist activity.’

  Alan, James and Hander looked at the doorway they had themselves just come through. A young man with a hipster beard stepped through, carrying a large aluminium crate.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Alfie, the cameraman.’ He gently put the crate on the ground. ‘Joy said you were down here.’