My Neighbours Are Stealing My Mail

by Ian Edwards

  ‘You’re just in time for the pre-show briefing,’ Chester explained. ‘That’s Marjorie Jeffers,’ he nodded towards a matronly blonde lady deep in conversation with Joy. ‘She’s the host of the show…’

  ‘She looks vaguely familiar,’ Alan said.

  ‘She was in a lot of films in the eighties. Remember the Teachers Tales films?’

  Alan and James both nodded.

  Chester smiled. ‘Meet Miss Norks, the PE and Home Economics teacher.’

  James jaw dropped. ‘No way…’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘No, it can’t be. I had the biggest crush on her.’

  ‘Recognise her now?’ Chester asked.

  Alan nodded. ‘Just about, but she’s certainly put on some weight since she stopped making those films. Maybe she ate all her student’s pies.’

  Chester laughed while James continued to stare.

  Joy ushered Marjorie towards them. ‘Alan, James I’d like you to meet Marjorie.’

  Alan smiled pleasantly, shaking the proffered hand. ‘We’re both massive fans of the Teacher films. James here must have seen the hockey match a hundred times.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Marjorie smiled warmly. James continued to stare, open mouthed.

  ‘After my time?’ Frankie asked as Joy led Marjorie as far from James as possible.

  ‘Just,’ Alan told him.

  ‘OK everyone, let’s get the pre-show briefing done and then we can have some dinner.’

  Alan and James sat on a couple of wooden storage crates while Joy went over the final details for the evening’s show. She quickly ran through the timings, handing out a very rough script while stressing (for the benefit of Alan, James and Hander) that it was a live show and liable to deviate from plan at any point.

  ‘…As usual we are going to be joined by a local historian. He will be with us shortly,’ she paused for a moment, looking at her notes. ‘Any questions?’

  Alan gazed around. No raised hands which, in his experience, was typical of any work meeting. They all just wanted this to be over as quickly as possible and go back to their actual job.

  ‘What do we know about this mark on the cellar floor?’

  Everyone sighed and looked over at Marjorie as she flicked through her notes.

  ‘Not a great deal,’ Chester said. ‘No one does. The builders discovered it. If you look at it in a certain way it looks a bit like a person.’

  ‘Do we have any pictures?’

  ‘We’ve tried to take pictures, but they never come out. They’re always blurry and out of focus,’ Hander said.

  Marjorie took off her reading glasses, giving Hander her full attention while he spoke. ‘That’s a shame. I’d like to see it,’ she paused, put her glasses back on and looked at the notes again. ‘I suppose I’ll have to go down and see it for myself.’

  ‘Well actually Marjorie,’ Chester said. ‘James here is a quite an artist, and has drawn a completely faithful copy of it.’ He reached over, taking James’s drawing from the stack of papers on the table, passing it to her.

  She looked at the drawing, frowned, took her glasses off and held it at arm’s length, frowned again and put her glasses back on. After a moment she put the drawing back on the table. ‘I think I’ll need to look at the real thing.’

  Chester nodded. ‘I’ll take you down there.’

  Alan and James watched Chester and Marjorie walk past them

  Joy looked closely at James’s drawing. ‘This is what’s down there on the ground?’ She asked.

  James leaned over, taking the sheet of paper from her. ‘It’s what I saw, yes,’ he confirmed.

  Joy pursed her lips. ‘Thanks James… I’d better go with Chester and Marjorie,’ she said, quickly setting off after them.

  ‘Let me have a look at that,’ Alan snatched the drawing from James’ grasp to study it. ‘Well that explains the exodus to the cellar,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well if your drawing is to be believed, the theatre is being haunted by a giant pineapple with a banana for a mouth and… what’s that instead of eyes?’

  James looked over his shoulder. ‘Grapes,’ he said.

  Alan shook his head and sighed.

  ‘To be fair,’ James protested. ‘You did say to improvise.’

  Chapter 42

  ‘So what do you think of Chester?’ Alan asked. ‘Fraud or the Real McCoy?’

  Alan, James and Frankie sat at one of the tables outside the theatre, working their way through a plate of sandwiches.

  ‘Genuine,’ James said firmly. ‘Definitely the real deal.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He said there was something down in the cellar, and there was. We saw it.’

  ‘He said there was something down there,’ Alan agreed. ‘But, we know we saw something. We don’t know that he did.’

  James chewed his bottom lip. ‘So you think he’s a fraud?’

  Alan raised his hands in defence. ‘I’m not saying that, but I’ve not seen any evidence that he’s genuine…He hasn’t seen Frankie.’

  ‘I’ve tried to avoid him,’ Frankie said.

  ‘Well,’ James said. ‘Whatever we think about Chester, we’re all agreed there’s something weird about this place.’ He looked at the vacant seat next to Alan. ‘Even Frankie.’

  Frankie nodded. ‘I told you something weird was going on here weeks ago, but did you listen..?’

  Any further comment about Chester or the situation at the theatre paused as a man pushed his way between the tables. He stood looking around like he was waiting to be seated at a restaurant.

  ‘Heads up,’ James warned. ‘We’ve got a visitor.’

  Alan and Frankie looked over at the new arrival. He was short with brown hair, dark rimmed glasses and despite it being a hot summer’s day, he was wearing a padded anorak. He saw Alan and James look in his direction and shuffled over to their table.

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for Joy,’ he said, placing a bulging plastic carrier bag at his feet.

  ‘You’ve come to the wrong place, son. You’ll find no joy here,’ Frankie said, causing Alan to stifle a giggle.

  She’s in the theatre somewhere,’ Alan grinned, gesturing at the theatre behind him.

  ‘Do you know where?’ He asked. ‘It’s a big building.’

  ‘You could try the cellar.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Try looking under the building,’ Alan suggested.

  ‘Oh, OK. Thanks.’ The man picked up his bag and wandered off into the theatre.

  ‘Who was that?’ James asked.

  ‘Probably a fan of the show,’ Frankie said. ‘A haunted house groupie. Probably follows the show all over the country. He’s probably got a tatty scrap book with everyone’s autographs in it. Oh, and a tin foil hat.’

  Alan laughed. ‘Frankie thinks he’s a Scared Stiff groupie.’

  ‘Maybe I should sign my drawing for him,’ James said, joining in with the laughter.

  ‘Is he a fan of pineapples then?’ Alan quipped.

  ‘I’m not listening,’ James replied, helping himself to the last sandwich.

  ‘They’re coming back,’ Alan looked over James’s shoulder at the theatre entrance.

  Frankie and James both looked to where Alan gestured. Joy came through the door in the hoarding, closely followed by the groupie, deep in conversation with Chester.

  ‘I bet they’re escorting him off the premises,’ James said. ‘He’s probably made a nuisance of himself.’

  Alan gave them a wave. ‘Hello again,’ he said to the groupie.

  ‘Hi Alan, Joy said. ‘Have you met Julius?’ She nodded at the groupie.

  ‘Did you find it alright?’ Alan asked. ‘

  We found Julius wandering around inside.’

  ‘Looking for souvenirs was he?’ James asked.

  Joy frowned and looked at Alan who shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘This is Julius Hucknall,’ Joy placed her hand on the groupi
e’s shoulder. ‘He’s the local historian.’

  ‘Like Mick?’ James asked.

  ‘Who?’ Frankie said.

  ‘Local Historian?’ Alan repeated.

  ‘Yes. Julius is an expert on the local area. He’s the perfect choice to provide some background,’ Joy explained.

  ‘Hi everyone.’ Julius gave a little wave and wrestled his anorak off. ‘It’s a bit hot for this but Sally thought it might turn chilly later.’

  Everyone looked up at the cloudless blue sky. ‘Who. Your mum?’ Alan asked.

  ‘Wife,’ Julius confirmed. ‘She does worry about me catching a chill.’

  ‘So Julius,’ James said. ‘Tell me. Being a historian. Is it very much a case of holding back the years?’

  Julius pursed his lips in thought, oblivious to the ribbing from James. ‘I suppose it is really. Good point.’

  ‘OK guys,’ Chester announced, suddenly realising that he was no longer the centre of attention. ‘Let’s get back inside and see what Julius has discovered.’

  *

  The Scared Stiff team congregated back in the auditorium. Julius stood in front of the stage with the contents of his carrier bag spread out behind him, while everybody else sat in the front row a few feet away.

  ‘Hi everyone,’ Julius said, gave a nervous wave and looked over his notes. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ve been looking into the history of the Merton Palace Theatre, using local newspaper archives and the internet. I haven’t found any reports of paranormal activity here. Certainly not in the last fifty years.’ He turned and took a sheaf of papers from the stage behind him. ‘However, I’ve read the statements given by Mr Hander, Miss Gayle and the builders and it would seem there’s a possibility of a ghostly entity at work in the cellar.’

  ‘But you don’t know who it is?’ Alfie asked.

  ‘Not until you make contact. We won’t know for sure, but I dug deeper and I found a couple of possible candidates.’

  Alan looked down the row and saw Chester was furiously making notes.

  ‘Interestingly in 1951…’ Julius continued. ‘During a magic show, a sawing the lady in half trick went disastrously wrong and Magician’s assistant, one Enid Luck, was accidentally sawn in half…’

  Alan sniggered and avoided catching James’s eye while Marjorie frowned at him.

  ‘How on earth did that happen?’ Marjorie asked.

  Julius shuffled his papers until he found what he was looking for. ‘Well, it appears that the Great Marmaduke…’

  ‘Who?’ Joy asked.

  ‘The Great Marmaduke…he was a magician. Very popular at the time. I suppose you could say he was the Derren Brown of his time. Anyway, he got a bit confused about where he was supposed to cut. Probably because he was trying the trick for the first time. And with a buzz saw….’

  Alan gripped the edge of his seat to stop himself laughing, earning another frown from Marjorie.

  Unflustered by the fidgeting going on in front of him, Julius continued. ‘As you can imagine, there was pandemonium in the theatre. People didn’t know what to do, so they dropped the curtain and evacuated the audience. Eventually they had an inquiry to try and piece everything together...’

  Alan and James simultaneously collapsed into fits of laughter.

  ‘Is something amusing you?’ Marjorie asked.

  Alan eventually brought himself under control. ‘Sorry. I was just thinking of something else.’

  ‘So was I,’ James forced out.

  Marjorie let rip with a chorus of tutting and then turned back to Julius. ‘Well?’

  ‘The inquiry found it to be an accident and the Great Marmaduke was exonerated of any blame.’

  ‘Despite him not using the fake saw..?’ Alan grinned. ‘I guess health and safety legislation was a little more lax at the time.’

  ‘So you think our ghost downstairs is Enid?’ Chester asked, ignoring Alan.

  ‘It would make sense,’ James said.

  Everyone turned to look at him. ‘Well…’ he continued. ‘The incidents have only taken place in the cellar…’

  Everyone continued to look at him…’And?’ Chester said.

  James sighed. ‘It’s obvious. Enid lost both her legs when the Great Marmaduke sawed them off. There’s no ramp up from the cellar, only stairs. So she’s stuck in the cellar with no way of getting out. So she’s proper angry.’

  Alan was impressed. He had never seen anyone so completely reduce a group of people to silence. As everyone stared at James, Alan was sure he could actually hear his hair growing. ‘Well done mate,’ he whispered. ‘That was outstanding.’

  It was Julius who broke the silence. ‘That’s a good hypothesis James, but I think it’s unlikely to be the ghost of Enid in the cellar.’

  ‘Oh, why’s that?’ James asked, disappointed.

  ‘Enid’s accident happened in 1951, and there were no reported paranormal instances until now. No, I think our ghost originates a lot more recently than that…’

  Alan felt a cold breeze on the back of his neck and turned slightly. He could see Frankie sitting behind him.

  ‘Have I missed anything?’ Frankie asked.

  ‘You’ve missed another blinder from James,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll fill you in later.’

  ‘In fact…’ Julius continued. ‘There’s a more likely candidate.’ He put his sheath of papers back on the stage, keeping a single sheet in his hands. ‘Back in 1982, the theatre was reaching the end of its life. It could no longer attract the star names that would fill it out, and instead it had to rely on variety nights.’ Julius paused, noticing everyone’s attention on him. All except Alan, who was looking at the empty chair over his shoulder. Julius continued. ‘After one of these variety nights, a comedian suffered a heart attack and died in his changing room.’

  ‘Do you know who he was?’ Marjorie asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Julius confirmed. ‘His name was Frankie Fortune.’

  Alan, who had not been paying attention, heard the name and froze. He turned to face Julius. ‘Frankie Fortune?’ He repeated.

  ‘Yes, Frankie Fortune.’

  ‘Never heard of him,’ Chester said.

  ‘Bloody cheek,’ Frankie called out pointlessly. ‘You need to brush up on your entertainment history.’

  James looked at Alan. ‘He means our Frankie, doesn’t he?’ He whispered.

  Alan nodded, smiling. ‘This could be very entertaining.’

  ‘I vaguely remember a comedian of that name from when I was younger,’ Marjorie said.

  ‘Was he funny?’ Alan asked.

  She frowned. ‘I suppose not or I would have remembered him.’

  ‘I don’t believe these people,’ Frankie huffed.

  ‘How do we know this Frankie person is the ghost?’ Joy asked.

  ‘We don’t know for sure, but I’d say it’s likely,’ Julius explained. ‘The theatre was sparsely used after his death, so there were fewer people around to witness any manifestations. However, there’s been much more presence since the refurbishment began. Especially in the cellar.’

  Chester looked up from his notes. ‘He’s a very angry ghost.’

  ‘I’m bloody furious,’ Frankie shouted back.

  ‘OK. OK.’ Joy stood up. ‘We seem to have an idea as to the identity of our ghost…Thanks Julius. Good work.’ Julius blushed and mumbled his thanks. Joy continued. ‘I think we should start the show…’ she looked at her watch. ‘In a couple of hours. With a séance.’

  Chester nodded.

  ‘Good idea,’ Marjorie said.

  ‘Let’s see what this Frankie Fortune has to say,’ Joy added.

  Sitting behind Alan, Frankie slumped back in his seat. ‘You really don’t want to hear what I’ve got to say!’

  Chapter 43

  Several miles away from the Merton Palace Theatre, Rosie, Amy and Jayne sat in Rosie’s garden in the fading summer evening light.

  ‘What time does the show start?’ Amy asked, dipping a chip in a mound of ketchup.


  Rosie pulled a face. ‘I’m not sure…Ten, I think.’

  ‘And what channel?’ Jayne asked.

  Rosie waved her hand upwards. ‘One of those weird channels that no one watches.’

  Jayne poured the remainder of the bottle of wine into three glasses. ‘Is Harry coming?’

  Rosie nodded. ‘He said he had to drop Katherine at the homeless shelter first.’

  Amy frowned. ‘Why doesn’t she live with Harry if she’s homeless?’

  Rosie’s reply was full of scorn. ‘Mother Theresa gives up an evening a week to serve food to the homeless.’

  ‘What a wonderful thing to do,’ Jayne said, receiving a glare from her sister.

  Amy laughed. ‘Surely you’re not still suspicious of her?’

  ‘Don’t start her off,’ Jayne warned.

  ‘I can’t believe you two can’t see what she’s up to.’

  Amy and Jayne shook their heads at each other.

  Rosie shook her head. ‘It looks like I’m going to have to look after Harry’s interests on my own.’

  ‘Even if he doesn’t want you to,’ Jayne whispered. Amy tried to keep a straight face.

  The doorbell interrupted any further conversation.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Jayne jumped up from her chair, scurrying off into the house.

  ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’ Amy asked in an attempt to change the subject.

  Rosie frowned. ‘No, I don’t.’ She paused for a moment and drunk some wine. ‘I used to. When I was younger I did. And I really liked the Poltergeist film.’

  ‘What was that about?’

  ‘A poltergeist.’

  Amy nodded. ‘I suppose it would be.’

  ‘I mean, I try to keep an open mind,’ Rosie continued. ‘If someone told me they had proof there was a ghost in this house, hanging about, sitting on the sofa, watching our TV, I guess I’d be minded to believe it.’

  ‘But that’s not likely is it?’ Amy interrupted.

  ‘No, of course not.’ Rosie conceded.

  ‘Evening Rosie, Amy,’ Harry said, stepping into the garden.

  Rosie smiled at him and pulled a chair out, gesturing or him to sit down. Amy jumped up and gave him a hug.