My Neighbours Are Stealing My Mail

by Ian Edwards

  ‘It’s a shame Katherine couldn’t make it,’ Amy said, pouring Harry a glass of wine. Feeling rather than seeing Rosie’s glare.

  ‘She’s very disappointed she couldn’t be here,’ Harry said. ‘Katherine wanted me to thank you for inviting her, though. She says she’s looking forward to seeing you all soon.’

  Rosie smiled thinly. ‘Such a shame she’s saving the homeless tonight.’

  ‘What time does this show start?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Ten, we think,’ Jayne said.

  ‘It should be quite interesting. There’s definitely something weird about the theatre. You only have to see what happened to Sarah…’

  ‘Do you believe in ghosts Harry?’ Amy asked.

  ‘I do, though I’ve never actually seen one. But I think there’s something in it…’ he paused for a moment. ‘I went to see a medium a few years ago.’

  ‘Oh Harry,’ Rosie said, concerned. ‘Did it help?’

  Harry put his glass of wine on the table. ‘Well I thought it did, the medium, Mr Marvon said he was picking up a lot of vibrations in my aura. He said there was someone trying to contact me from the other side.’

  ‘Who was it?’ Amy asked.

  ‘The District line.’

  Amy and Rosie looked at each other while Jayne simply said. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘It was the District line. The tube went past the building we were in and Mr Marvon was confusing a vibration in my aura with the 7.10 to Earls Court.’

  ‘Oh…’ Rosie mumbled.

  ‘Never mind,’ Harry reached for his wine. ‘What time did you say this show started?’

  *

  Sarah sat on the edge of the bed and watched the nurse put two pills on the bedside table, pour water into a plastic cup and set it down next to the pills.

  ‘Right Sarah, you know the drill. Take these two for me,’ the nurse made the request sound like a demand and Sarah did as she was told.

  ‘You could be going home tomorrow,’ the nurse said as Sarah slowly eased herself back into bed.

  ‘I know. The Doctor said he was going to make a decision after his rounds,’ Sarah said, watching the nurse write something on her clipboard. ‘You can tell him I haven’t had a headache in two days, if that helps.’

  The nurse frowned and wrote something else. ‘You should get some sleep now.’ She hung the notes on the edge of the bed and marched out of the ward.

  Sarah waited for the door to close then slipped gingerly out of bed. She crouched down with a wince and took her laptop from her bedside cabinet. She placed it on her bed and climbed back in, stifling a cry of agony.

  Sarah turned the laptop on. The machine flickered to life and she typed in the website address she was looking for. An image of an old house appeared on the screen with the words Scared Stiff TV emblazoned across it.

  Sarah plugged her headphones into the laptop and slipped them over her ears. The image was replaced with another. Marjorie Jeffers was standing outside the theatre. Turning to the camera she said; ‘Tonight on Scared Stiff we go inside the Merton Palace Theatre for what could be our most terrifying investigation yet.’

  Sarah felt a chill run down her spine and she settled down to watch.

  Chapter 44

  Alan, James and Frankie sat in Hander’s office, watching as Chester and Hander manhandled a small table through the door and down to the cellar. The team had decided, quite reasonably, that the séance should take place in the cellar as that appeared to be the focus of the ghostly activity.

  ‘I’m going to give them a séance to remember,’ Frankie grumbled. ‘When I stay silent, their whole show is going to fall flat.’

  Alan laughed. ‘I think you’re missing the point with this séance.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Frankie snapped.

  ‘They may think they’re trying to contact you, but it’s not you who’s been causing the trouble. It’s not you, is it?’

  ‘Of course it’s not me, you silly sod,’ Frankie snapped again.

  ‘Is Frankie still pissed off?’ James asked.

  ‘Yes I bloody am,’ Frankie shouted.

  ‘Very,’ Alan confirmed.

  The door opened and Joy poked her head in. ‘Hi Guys, just thought I’d check you’re still OK to sit in on the séance?’

  ‘Sorry, but why do you need us?’ Alan asked.

  Joy slipped into the office and sat on the edge of the desk. ‘To make the numbers up. Chester, Alfie and Brett, Mr Hander has agreed, you and James. That’s six. It’s a good number for a séance.’

  ‘OK,’ James said. ‘We’ll do it.’

  Alan glared at his friend. ‘Thanks mate.’ He turned to Joy. ‘Where will you be while this is going on?’

  ‘I’ll be on the stage with Marjorie and Julius. We’ll be following proceedings from there.’

  ‘What do we have to do?’ Alan asked.

  ‘Just sit round the table and follow Chester’s instructions,’ Joy paused, seeing the confusion on his face. ‘It’s all very simple. I’ve sat in on dozens.’

  Alan shrugged. ‘OK.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ Joy jumped up. ‘Right, Marjorie is going outside to record the intro for the show. We’ll be back in about ten minutes.’

  Alan watched as she left the office, sighing heavily. ‘I could be at home now with a beer, watching some obscure Scandinavian crime drama. Instead I’m stuck here with an angry ghost, a sulky ghost, a 1980s film star and a medium who may or may not be a complete fake. Plus I’m about to be part of a séance, which is almost certainly going to resemble one of those slasher horror films that we used to watch on video when we were kids.’

  James smiled. ‘I know, great isn’t it?’

  *

  Alan pursed his lips. ‘Is it me or does that table look really short?’

  James nodded. ‘Yeah, like a dinner table in a primary school.’

  ‘Exactly. That’s it.’

  Chester and Hander stood opposite them, studying the table.

  ‘I think we’ve taken too much off the legs,’ Chester said.

  ‘We took off what we had to,’ Hander replied. ‘We wouldn’t have got it down here otherwise.’

  Chester sighed. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Told you,’ Alan whispered to James.

  As Chester and Hander continued fussing, Alfie and Brett set up their equipment and focused the lights on the table. Alan and James watched on, perched on the edge of a work bench.

  ‘It doesn’t seem that bad down here when there’s a few of us around,’ Alan said.

  ‘Safety in numbers?’ James asked.

  Alan nodded. ‘Definitely…’ He paused. ‘We’ll be even safer now. Here’s Joy.’

  Joy appeared in the doorway. ‘Everyone ready to go..?’ She paused, taking in the scene in front of her. ‘What happened to the table?’

  ‘We had to take a few inches off the legs to get it down here,’ Chester told her, frowning at Hander.

  ‘The turn in the staircase is quite narrow. We couldn’t get it down without chopping a bit off,’ Hander explained.

  Joy shook her head. ‘It folds down,’ she said, grabbing everyone’s attention.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It folds down. How else do you think we’ve got it up and down staircases in the past?’

  She strode across the cellar, reached under the table and felt around. ‘Here it is,’ she said, exasperated. She pulled a lever, allowing the table to fold in half. ‘This is how we move it around.’

  She looked sternly at Chester, who was busy looking at his feet.

  ‘Can you get it set up…Now?’

  Alfie sidled up to James. ‘She gets really tetchy the closer we get to broadcast,’ he whispered.

  Joy told everyone she was now only contactable on her mobile and stomped back up the stairs.

  Chester opened the table up and positioned it back in the centre of the cellar while Brett shook open a white cotton table cloth, laying it across the table.

  ‘You do
know,’ Alan said. ‘That none of us will be able to fit our legs underneath that thing. It’s too short now.’

  Chester and Brett looked at the table, with the table cloth bunched up in haphazard folds on the floor.

  Chester stepped away from the table, looking looked around. ‘Anyone got any ideas?’

  *

  Sarah sat up in her hospital bed and watched as Scared Stiff got underway.

  Marjorie Jeffers strode slowly down the central aisle of the auditorium towards the stage. She paused and looked into the camera.

  ‘Tonight on Scared Stiff we’re going to the theatre. A theatre that has been closed for over a year while being refurbished.’

  She walked on another few steps.

  ‘This work has unearthed a spirit that has caused some of the most terrifying examples of paranormal activity we have ever covered on Scared Stiff. Frightening apparitions and poltergeist activity so ferocious that witnesses have been hospitalised.’

  Marjorie reached the stage and turned to face another camera.

  ‘Are you ready for a night at the theatre?’

  Sarah shuddered, pulling the covers up the bed as what passed for Scared Stiff’s opening titles passed across the screen.

  The show resumed with Marjorie sitting in a chair on the stage. She introduced a montage of clips from around the theatre, explaining some of the incidents that had occurred.

  ‘So now we’re going straight down to the cellar, where we are holding a séance.’

  *

  Rosie handed over the money and took the pizza from the delivery man. ‘Here we go,’ she said, placing the box on the table and flipping open the lid.

  Jayne put plates in front of everyone while Harry took a slice of pizza and set about opening bottles of beer.

  ‘Shouldn’t we be getting inside?’ He said. ‘The show must be starting now.’

  Amy dug a spoon into a tub of coleslaw. ‘Not yet. It’ll just be adverts and preamble. I hate adverts. It’s always something useless like nose trimmers.’

  Harry looked up from his Pizza. ‘They do work though…’

  *

  James carefully slipped under the table and eased his chair forward.

  ‘Comfortable?’ Chester asked.

  James nodded.

  Everyone gently placed their hands on the table. A series of cards with the letters of the alphabet and two further cards - marked yes and no - had been placed around the edge of the table.

  Chester pulled a walkie-talkie from his pocket. ‘We’ll be ready to go in ten, nine…’

  Alfie’s camera had been fixed in position covering the table while Brett’s sound equipment had been set up alongside it. Alfie turned, throwing a switch on the camera. ‘We’re running now,’ he said.

  Joy’s muffled voice came from the walkie-talkie. ‘Action.’

  Alan sighed, pushing down on the table causing it to wobble.

  ‘Steady,’ Alfie warned.

  Alan sneaked a look under the table. Each leg was balanced on three bricks, reminding him of a car that had been left in his old school car park overnight.

  Chester called for silence, causing Alan to stifle a giggle. He closed his eyes and let the silence fill the room. The only sound the faint electronic buzz of the camera.

  ‘It’s like a Giles Monroe gig in here,’ he found himself saying out loud.

  James snorted a laugh and Chester again called for silence. ‘Alan, can you please remain silent. I need my full level of concentration to contact the spirits.’

  ‘Sorry Chester,’ Alan apologised. ‘Force of habit. Carry on.’

  Chester nodded and closed his eyes again.

  ‘What kind of nonsense is this?’ Frankie appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Spirit are you there?’ Chester called out. ‘We mean you no harm.’

  Silence.

  ‘Spirit, we feel your fear. Your loss.’

  Silence.

  ‘We are your friends.’

  Silence. Although Alan could hear Frankie whistling the theme to Laurel and Hardy.

  ‘Give us a sign that you are here and you want to talk.’

  The silence continued until two distinct taps rang out, as though someone were knocking on a door, jerking everyone to attention.

  ‘That wasn’t me,’ Frankie called out.

  ‘We hear you Frankie. Give us another sign.’

  ‘Not me,’ Frankie said.

  The silence returned.

  ‘We mean you no harm.’

  A sound like rocks being slapped together rang around the room. Alan noticed the temperature drop as the sound rang out again. He pushed down on the table, making it wobble. ‘Did you feel that?’ He said.

  ‘Still wasn’t me,’ Frankie called out.

  ‘I think it’s the floor,’ James said.

  Chester, his eyes still firmly shut, called out. ‘Is that you, Frankie? We mean you no harm.’

  ‘No, it’s bloody not,’ Frankie said.

  Another crack.

  The glass in the centre of the table slid across the table, drawing everyone’s fingers with it.

  ‘Are you trying to tell us something?’

  Another crack.

  ‘Son,’ Frankie stepped behind Alan. ‘I think we should get out of here. There’s definitely someone or something else down here.’

  The glass moved suddenly, pulling away from everyone’s fingers. It slid quickly across the table, urgently stopping at each letter in turn.

  W-H-O-I-S-F-R-A-N-K-I-E

  ‘Who is Frankie?’ Chester repeated.

  ‘Bloody cheek,’ Frankie grumbled.

  ‘There should be a question mark,’ James said.

  ‘Sorry?’ Alan mumbled, paying more attention to his surroundings than James’s ramblings.

  ‘It’s a question. “Who is Frankie?” There should be a question mark after it. It’s poorly written.’

  Alan shook his head in disbelief. ‘Thanks James, always the teacher.’

  Two more cracks erupted around them as the corner of the table dipped down slightly.

  ‘Who are you?’ Chester asked, trying to bring calm back to the cellar.

  The glass set off on another journey round the table, stopping at various letters. James read out each letter.

  V-I-N-C-E-N-T

  ‘Vincent,’ Chester repeated.

  ‘Never heard of you,’ Frankie called out.

  A gust of wind blew through the cellar, sending the cards flying from the table. James jumped up, knocking the table over with a crash.

  ‘Steady, James,’ Brett said. ‘This is quite normal.’ Although James could tell Brett was equally spooked.

  James sat back down on his chair. ‘Really?’

  Brett nodded. ‘Oh yeah, it happens a lot.’ James wasn’t convinced at all. If this happened all the time, and on live TV, he would have heard about it, surely.

  Chester had stood up. ‘Vincent,’ he said calmly. ‘We mean you no harm. Please tell us what you want.’

  Another strong wind swirled round the cellar, dropping the temperature several degrees.

  Frankie stepped between Alan and James. ‘Son, get to the edge of the room. It’ll be safer,’ he shouted over gusting wind.

  Alan pulled James back towards the wall. ‘Let’s try and get to the door,’ he shouted at James.

  Another crack, like a gun shot, rang out as two of the lamps blew over, plunging the cellar into semi-darkness.

  Alfie and Brett picked their equipment up, assessing the damage. Brett fussed over his microphone as another gust of wind blew a screwdriver across the floor, coming to a halt on the mark on the ground.

  Brett crouched down to pick the screwdriver up, acutely aware the floor didn’t feel right. He looked closer, running his hand over the mark. ‘It’s cracked,’ he called out.

  ‘What is?’ Alfie called out, while heaving his camera onto his shoulder.

  ‘The mark on the floor. There’s a crack running through the middle of it.’
/>
  Hander pulled aside the tarpaulin, revealing the blemish on the floor. He crouched down, running his hand over the floor. ‘He’s right, it’s cracked right through.’

  As Hander stood up, one of the bricks that had been supporting the table flew up striking him on the head, sending him falling back against the wall with a thump.

  Chester stepped into the middle of the cellar and put his hands in the air. ‘We mean you no harm. Give us a sign that you mean us no harm.’

  A strong gust of wind whipped around the cellar and blew the tarpaulin over him.

  *

  Alan and James helped Hander out of the cellar and into the office. James attempted to administer first aid. ‘That’s a nasty cut you have there,’ he said, wiping the blood away from Hander’s wound with a tissue.

  ‘You’d better get that seen to,’ Alan said helpfully, while looking over James’s shoulder.

  James looked closely at Hander. ‘Should he put his head between his legs?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I vaguely remember it coming up at a first aid course.’

  Alan frowned. ‘I suppose he could try it. He’s got nothing to lose.’

  James pushed another wedge of tissue onto Hander’s head. ‘OK Mr Hander, can you just put your head down between your legs?’

  James watched as Hander slowly did as he was bid. ‘Right,’ he said to Hander. ‘I’ll go and get the first aid kit.’

  ‘I’ll keep an eye on him,’ Alan said as his friend left the room. He pulled a chair from behind the desk and wheeled it round to face the patient. ‘Everything OK?’ He asked.

  Hander groaned.

  ‘That’s good. Just stay down there, you’ll be fine.’

  Alan felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and swiped the screen. ‘Hi Sarah.’

  ‘Alan, hi. Is everything OK?’

  Alan looked over at Hander, who had several blood soaked tissues pressed to his head.

  ‘It’s fine, why? Aren’t you watching us on TV?’

  ‘I lost the signal just after the séance started. Did anything happen?’

  Alan looked through the door window as Alfie and Brett emerged from the cellar covered in dust.

  ‘No, you didn’t miss anything. Just your ordinary every day séance.’