Strange Short Stories

It was a long drive for the next survey on Dave’s schedule, but he felt better than normal about this one.

Surveys were bread and butter to Dave, he could get through quite a few in a week and usually had no problem in completing a schedule to return subsequently to the office where he would write up his findings; still doing them the old way on paper because that’s what the Client wanted although, of course, they were saved on the server first as he typed them up.

This trip out would take him to his old home town and with a little spare time (there was always a lot of time allocated for each day’s surveys) he considered there was sufficient slack to maybe take in the town, driving round it to view the sights and consider how it changed since he left all those years ago. He would especially reserve time to visit where he spent his childhood and most of his teens. Nostalgia was in his mind and these sorts of opportunities did not arise every day.

He arrived on the outskirts where everything still looked more or less as he had left it, then into the town proper where a lot of the architecture was now very different. While he wanted to drive around for a little while, an urge arose within him to go take a look where he had once lived, this being the important item in his day’s unofficial schedule. He could drive afterwards to where he was supposed to carry out his survey work, taking in some of the town on the way and if there was time afterwards, to then do more sightseeing.

Down the main trunk road to the far side of town, his old home would come into view. Another half mile or so along this to turn left at the traffic lights; there was ‘his’ house on his right. A further hundred yards and a right turn took him onto the ‘end road’ as he and his now long gone friends would deign to call it; it had a name of course but it had never been used. A house length and there was the back alley he had spent many happy hours in. Pulling over to the right he parked up outside old grumpy Mr. Thompson’s house. He no longer lived there of course, passing away many years ago. Dave had no notion of whoever lived there now, or how they would take to him parking outside.

This was a public road without ‘no-parking’ or ‘residents only’ signs so Dave just simply parked up and got out of his car. Legs a bit stiff after nearly three hours driving to arrive here, he stretched off, closed the door, pressed the ‘lock car’ button on his key fob before striding slowly towards the entrance to the alley that he had once known so well.

“They’re much smaller than I remember them,” he thought to himself as he viewed to the right the little back gardens of the houses that faced the main road and abutted the alley. His view was also directed to the back gardens on the other side of the alley, to his left, which still had the six foot high fencing in place so the residents couldn’t see the noisy kids, him included, playing in the alley. Until he and most of the others started secondary school, this alley was the only real place for play they had, other than the park which was a half mile walk away requiring prior parental permissions.

The alley he and his friends played in wasn’t just a straight line between the gardens as it turned sharp left at the far end, as he was looking at it, and as it passed the last back garden on the right. This was the one that had been his parents and where he grew up and had always been full of flowers and a big fuscia bush. Looking down the alley from this end of it he could just see the straggly bush leaning out over the fence with the remaining privet hedge; Dave smiled with the warmth of many memories.

The sharp turn to the left followed the shops that had also turned the corner past his house and gave way to high fencing on both sides for another twenty yards or so. Footballs, or more usually the old tennis ball someone would always turn up with, never went over the fence into the back yard of any of the shops. Good footballs, not leather ones, but much cheaper plastic ones from ‘Woolies’ would only appear in the alley after they had been used a lot beforehand by their owners or had lost their air pressure.

Really, nobody had the nerve to bring a new football into the alley in case it got kicked over the low wall into Mr. Thompson’s garden here at this end where he was standing. If it came back without being disastrously punctured with a knife it was considered a miracle and nobody but nobody of the gang that played here was ever brave enough to knock on Mr. Thompson’s door to ask for the ball back, well not since the episode with Harry.

Dave found himself reminiscing of those happy days as a young lad before going to the big school; they seemed to last for ever and every day just went on and on. His mind was miles away in the past as he wandered into and along the alley feeling its magic working on him for one more time. He almost reached the garden he remembered so well when a sudden rush of boys and a girl came dashing towards him from round the bend.

“Move it Dave, come on mate,” the leading young man shouted.

“I remember that face,” Dave thought, “ it’s …”

“They’ve knocked the can over. Run mate, run,” some young boy’s voice called to him as he collided with Dave spinning him round.

“The sticks are all over the place.”

“Run, run; find somewhere to hide, hurry.”

The voices and faces of the gang that were his friends, Dave knew only too well and they came flying into his senses so it seemed, with the same speed as they were running at and past him.

Dave turned on his heels and joined in the rush to leave the alley he’d just come into. He just knows that he has to hide and fast. A mad rush of excitement courses through him, his fingers tingle as a big smile comes across his face. He realises also that the blue sky from a few moments ago has turned dark and ominously cloudy and looks like it will pour down shortly.

When it rained in this part of the world, it was always heavy being so close to the coast, but the game would not be called off unless and until everyone got soaked. That odd thought made him laugh.

“Dave, Dave, where have you been,” a young girl’s voice is shouting at him. “I haven’t seen you for ages now, where have you been?”

“Sally,” he calls out to her without having to recall her name. “I don’t know. I had to go away with Mum and Dad for a week.” A big lie but Dave cannot think of anything else to say although it seems right. It does the trick because Sally, who always had a crush on Dave, seems satisfied by the reply.

She grabs his hand. “Come on with me, I know where to hide,” and drags him behind her along the alley not letting go of her catch.

“I haven’t seen Sally for how many years; why did I say a week,” Dave tried to think clearly but ‘clearly’ didn’t work. “It has to be a week, I guess.”

“There is nowhere that no-one knows where to hide, we all know everywhere,” Dave found himself thinking but not in his normal way of thinking. “These are the words of a child, not mine,” he continued, but in an instant that didn’t matter.

He was himself again and with friends, even Sally who would not let go of his hand and almost certainly wanted to cuddle him yet again given the opportunity. He wasn’t really into cuddling girls but that never put Sally off as she seemed to get more pleasure out of her occasional urge than he did.

Dave hadn’t noticed until now that he’s wearing his grey short trousers with a grey ‘woolly-pully’ over his open neck shirt and comes to swift halt almost pulling Sally over.

“What’s the matter Dave,” Sally asks. “Are you OK? Does it hurt? Can I be your nurse, can I fix it?”

Dave can no longer remember why he stopped so suddenly. His confusion does not last any longer and he definitely doesn’t want Sally playing ‘Doctors and Nurses’ with him; he remembers the last time and that nearly got him into a lot of trouble.

Hurtling out the end of the alley and turning right to run along the road, they pass a car parked outside of Mr. Thompson’s.

“That’s a posh car,” he calls out as they run past it. “I wonder who that can belong to?” he asks no-one in particular.

Sally’s not interested in cars and not slowing down at all nor loosening her grip of his hand, is now dragging Dave behind her.

A couple of the boys, either being very brave or foolhardy, have jumped the low wall bordering Mr. Thompson’s garden through a slight gap in his low hedge and as Sally drags Dave past they can both see the two of them crouching down low.

“They’ll cop it if grumpy arse sees them,” Sally says.

“You swore then Sally. You can’t do that; you’ll get into trouble,” Dave said in between gasping for air. Sally was moving really fast now and Dave had to keep up with her.

“You won’t tell on me Dave, will you,” Sally asked coming to a dead stop with Dave crashing straight into her; Sally enjoyed that.

Dave couldn’t find an answer.

“Well don’t say silly things,” she said and shot off at a pace again almost pulling Dave over behind her; her grip on his hand was unrelenting.

He remembered poor Brian who once carelessly having kicked his old football into the middle of Mr. Thompson’s nice piece of lawn between his rose beds, had had the nerve to knock on his back door. He got his ball back after witnessing a sharp knife go straight through it, followed by a thick ear from a strong right hand and a loud threatening warning never to come back, or play football, or breathe, or live ever again.

Brian lived with his Mum and Dad and two brothers at a house half way down the alley and was so frightened he couldn’t say what had happened, hiding the useless ball away until his Mum finally asked him where it was and he had to tell her. Mr. Thompson didn’t get into any sort of trouble but poor Brian did and that included another sore ear.

The dark nights of autumn were a good time to get your own back on the terrible Mr. Thompson. ‘Knocky-knocky-hideo’ was great game to give Mr. Thompson some of his own medicine but it required an element of bravery to continue after three goes. That always went down well with the gang and gave you a lot of ‘street-cred’ with the gang if it was you that managed more than three rattles of his door knocker without being caught or even seen.

Watching Mr. Thompson from behind some hiding place (usually someone else’s garden) on his door step having a purple fit shouting and screaming, waving his fists in the air, threatening dire warnings and invoking curses that no-one understood, was always a great sight for the gang.

Dave realised that Sally’s grip had slipped while he had been dreaming and she was nowhere to be seen. He shot round the corner into the road at the front of the posh houses and again ran straight into a standing Sally. Her arms immediately embraced him but also served to stop the pair of them falling over.

“Oh Sally, what are you doing. You shouldn’t do that, we’ll be in trouble if we’ve been seen,” gasps out Dave.

“Are you complaining David,” she came at him with his full name, “because I’m not?”

And with those few words she just stared directly into his eyes, puckered her lips and planted an unexpected and warm kiss on trembling lips. Not for very long but enough to put a tingle through his body.

“I’ve been waiting for that all week,” she said. “Where have you been hiding?”

Dave simply didn’t know and couldn’t manage to say so and any word he might have uttered was lost in the start of a stuttering reply; he got no further.

Sally just laughed, let the junior embrace go and grabbed his hand. “Come on, not this way, come with me this way,” she continued to giggle as she pulled him away in the opposite direction from the one that he had just come into this road.

Across the ‘end road’ to the far side she pulled him, a few more yards along it and then she dragged him a sharp left into the unfinished section that backed onto the open fields behind the housing. This area all the gang had played in at one time or another; ‘cowboys and injuns’, ‘cops and robbers’, ‘soldiers and war’ and on that one infamous occasion that Dave could never forget, ‘doctors and nurses.’

The ‘cowboys and injuns’ had stopped a month or so back, on the occasion of Eddie turning up with his birthday present from an uncle. It was a shiny, brand new, six gun with a real revolving chamber that took cap filled bullets. No-one had ever seen anything so new or as complicated as this and was duly impressed until Eddie declared his intentions on using it.

“This is a ‘real’ six-gun,” he had said. It wasn’t but no-one dared to argue with him. “And it takes real bullets.” No-one was at all sure of that not having seen any bullets before, so stayed silent.

“This is much better than any of the old plastic guns some of you have and much, much better than the sticks you pretend are guns. If I point this at you and fire it, it doesn’t miss, it can’t miss, and it’s so good, you are dead straight away and out of the game, because I say so.”

Nobody had replied to him but ‘cowboys and injuns’ were never played again while Eddie was around. There was always a sense of fairness among the gang exercised when it was needed.

These fields into which Sally was dragging Dave had seen lots of action and most of the hollows, and mounds always covered in long grass were well known to the gang. Sally dragged Dave further along the rough track, even further still, before almost jumping sideways into a spot that Dave didn’t recognise and he was sure that Sally didn’t either.

As Sally dropped into the long grass where she was sure no-one could see her from the houses, even if they were looking, she dragged Dave down with her and he ended up close along side and facing her. He was frightened, sort of, more nervous and trembling again, not having ever, ever been laid alongside a girl before or this close. Sally took this opportunity she had engineered so easily and wrapping her arms tightly round Dave’s neck, placed her lips firmly on his and kept them there.

Dave didn’t know how to respond again, what should he do, push her away, cry out, he just did not know, this had never happened before. The little kiss he had experienced only a short while ago must have been Sally having a practice for this, her major assault on his senses. He quickly found the sensation quite pleasant, perhaps it should be, and in an instance decided not to fight but to enjoy it.

As quickly as it started however, it came to an end as Sally let her grasp slip as she rolled away with a big smile on her face.

“Come on lover,” Sally exclaimed as she jumped to her feet. “Better get back.”

“If you tell anyone what you just did,” she added, “I will tell my Mum that you’ve got me pregnant.”

“What’s pregnant?” Dave enquired not having any idea at all. “I promise not to tell anyone, honest, honest, cross my heart and hope to die.”

He knew that if he did tell anyone that it would definitely get back to his mother and then he’d be in big trouble, whatever this ‘pregnant’ thing was; it didn’t sound so good.

Clambering up to his feet, he added, “Honest, Sally, honest.”

“Come on lover, follow me,” she exclaimed as she grabbed his hand once more and started to drag him away.

“Stop saying that,” he demanded as he had no option but to go where Sally’s firm grip took him. Sally just giggled and pulled him harder to keep up with her pace.

She headed across the roads to where the end of the alley came out after the bend. Poor Dave, still confused, although sort of pleasantly so, just went along with her. What could he do, he couldn’t drag his hand away and he couldn’t hit a girl, which would get him into all sorts of trouble.

Running to the edge of the alley opening, where it came out past the last posh house and having let the terrible grip on Dave go, she carefully sneaked a little look to see what might be going on. Dave, not realising that she had come to a full stop and still trying to keep up with her, despite no longer being in her grip, ran into the back of her, knocking her into full view of whoever might be in the alley.

She hissed at him, “And you can stop that, you naughty boy, I’ll tell on you, I will.”

Dave had no idea what she meant and quickly directed his gaze down the alley to where some of their friends were gathered but with no sign of the other team trying to catch them. One of the young lads saw the pair of them and without raising his arm, motioned them with a twist of his wrist to, “Come now.”

He dare not raise his arm as that might attract the attention of one of the other team who must be round the bend of the alley as Dave and Sally looked at it. They didn’t need asking twice and off they went to where the can and scattered sticks must be, Sally leading.

The clip clop of the heels of her school shoes echoed down the alley and one of ‘them’ suddenly appeared with the old tennis ball in hand. It was soon projected towards Sally and struck her firmly on the side of the head.

“Arghhh, you stupid boy,” Sally cried out as the ball ricocheted off the side of her head upwards and onwards and out of the alley, past Dave who had kept running past Sally to the can.

Within a moment he had picked up the sticks, placed them on the can and with the rest of the team shouted out as loud as they could, “Kick Can, Kick Can, Kick Can.”

Nobody knew why the game was called ‘Kick Can’ or why the name had to be called out three times to win if the sticks had been put back in place, but that sort of detail didn’t matter now; this was a game, a very serious game and there was a winner. Dave and Sally were grabbed by the other guys and bounced up and down with a cacophony of, “We won, we won, we won;” another three times shout.

“My head hurts,” moaned Sally as a bump start to appear under her searching fingers.

“I’m finished,” a small voice chirped up.

Dave recognised another friend, well of course he did, a small lad called Alan who lived a couple of streets away.

“You OK Alan?” Dave enquired. “What’s the matter mate.”

“I’m all right, but look how those big clouds have come over and how dark it’s going. It’s going to throw it down in a minute and I’ve been warned by my Mum. I mustn’t get wet ‘cos I’m wearing these clothes for school tomorrah.”

With that Alan started walking away out of this end of the alley.

“Oh come on marrah, scaredy cat, scaredy cat,” the calls came after him.

“Nah, that’s me done then,” another voice chirped up.

“Where’s me ball?” John asked. “Gimmee it now, I’m going home for me tea.”

The old, well worn tennis ball, having been retrieved, came flying over the collection of scruffy heads. John reached up and neatly caught the missile to promptly stuff it into his trouser pocket before walking away silently.

The collection of young faces spread apart and moved away in the two available directions of the alley.

“I’m off,” declared Sally. “See you tomorrow, lover,” she hastily whispered in Dave’s ear as she strode off.

“Stop it,” he shouted after her but without any effect; she just kept striding away without the merest hint of her head turning.

Dave decided that it was time also for him to go home and he turned towards the garden that had the lovely fuscia bush in bloom just leaning ever so slightly over the hedge. His feet, however, had different ideas and carried him past the gate and along the length of the alley. He tried to turn back but something told him that while he knew that was his home and his Mum would be waiting for him to come in, he also realised somehow that he had a home elsewhere and that he was walking in the right direction.

He wanted desperately to turn round, to go home to the warm embrace of his Mum and even though he tried to sort out his feet, they none-the-less took him to the end of the alley.

He stood there motionless staring once more at this posh car.

§

Without further thought he reached into his jacket pocket to lift out a set of keys and a fob that he promptly pressed and heard the clock and the bleep of the car unlocking.

His mind was partly in the present but with a yearning to capture where he had just been yet also where he was now, like waking from a dream that is desperate to be remembered. He opened the car door almost automatically and got in to sit in the driving position with his hands on the wheel. With a compulsion the key went into the ignition, but not fully turned, and he pressed a door button to lower the window and look back.

He was stunned and was on the edge of wanting to be sick; it was a desperately strange feeling. Some of the play he had just been involved in briefly came back to his senses to disappear as quickly as it came. Glancing down the part of the alley that he could see from the car, and it wasn’t much, he managed to take hold of a stronger thought, a memory; the warmth of his mother’s embrace. He took hold of it strongly just to find, as quickly as it came, to slip through his clenched fingers to be no more than the distant memory of a middle aged adult.

How had this experience occurred? He didn’t know but not concentrating on it, it seeped back into his consciousness momentarily. There was a part of this experience that was very real, or so it told him, insisting that it was very real and that he really had been there.

Softly the memories of his friends and especially Sally, came floating back into his mind’s vision to elicit a small tear on his warm cheeks.

“Oh Sally, where are you, why did our time go so fast,” he muttered openly to himself, trying to bring to mind those many hours they spent together until secondary school had started.

Even after they started their next adventures at the ‘big schools’, vastly different ones unfortunately, they managed to meet a few more times but the delicious exciting of the senses from that previous time as youngsters was never to be repeated.

“Where was she now?” A mad thought he had to let go off.

He sat there quietly as the images now slowly faded away or merged into the imagination of what might have been. Again he found himself coming back, almost but not quite and without any deliberate effort, to see his long lost friends of that long lost time, stood in the alley waiting to start a new game of ‘kick-can’.

It was if they were waiting for him and he most certainly them; then the illusion, if it was that, faded away once more and was gone forever.

“’Ere mate, I wouldn’t park there,” a gruff voice from a passing stranger brought him to his cold senses. “They’ll have you up on bricks and your wheels gone before you know it. Nice car mate, don’t see many of them round these parts.”

“Thanks,” Dave muttered back with a sort of smile as the cold light of day rushed in to sweep away what had or might have been.

He turned the ignition key fully to kick the engine into life and then drive away to his surveys.

§