The Dave Hinchy Code
Page 1
Copyright 2015 Richard Ainsworth
The right of Richard Ainsworth to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
First Published in this Ebook edition in 2015 by Green Raven Media Ltd
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with prior consent or permission in writing of the publishers and Richard Ainsworth. In the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency (Green Raven Media Ltd).
All Characters – Unless formally identified and acknowledged, are fictitious and any resemblance to any persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Kindle conversion by Paul Gregory for Green Raven Media Ltd.
Cover Design by Kubek
Green Raven Media Ltd.
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The Dave Hinchy Code
A Tale
of witchcraft,
secret societies,
demons, angels...
and afternoon tea.
Preface
When the postman – Dave Hinchy, pops the wrong piece of post through the letterbox of Ruby, he causes a brand of mayhem he could never account for. Dave is mixed up with a secret society – The Rosy Crustaceans. They are led by a sinister Doctor, with very dubious intentions of world domination, all starting with the annexation of Widdowshins with Hades. Ruby recognises him for what he is and gathers her forces together – her twin sister, her cat, a rather hysterical vicar and a koi carp, off they trot to take on the powers of darkness… St Michael pops in to lend a hand too.
For more information, characters, newsletter, videos, audio and pictures of the actual village go to www.widdowshins.com
Foreword
It’s taken several years to get this all together. Not so much the writing, but making sure what was done, was done - and what I mention in the history, was, to a greater degree, real history, but with the same breath, blow the dust off it and make it accessible for any who find ‘real’ history as dull as ditch water. I wanted to make stories which not only engaged, but also wrapped fact in a veneer of sugar coated fantasy.
I’ve been encouraged and cajoled to get all this ‘out there’ by Kat, my long suffering wife, Jim Gregory, Balsh, Glyn, Steve Harris, Carl, Tessa, Jeff, Rachel, Chris and Tracey Donnelly, amongst others, some of those unmentioned helpers from very surprising and enterprising quarters indeed, their influences will be all too apparent to them in the series as it progresses.
Widdowshins is real, but not under that name, as you would see from the website, www.widdowshins.com. The history is real… for the most part, and the occult and magickal practices exist. You can either enjoy the work for the surface tale which pops along, or look deeper into it – and the tales it works with and is mystically tied to.
Everything in Widdowshins means something. Whether it be a flower mentioned, the colour of a coat or the choice of a tune, and Glyn’s tunes are incredibly carefully crafted and considered indeed. It all means something, it’s up to you to work out what they mean for yourself. Lastly, I’d like to thank the late departed Cath Sutton for instigating me to ‘go and do it’ years before I did – by giving me the introductions to Carl and Jim. God Bless you Cath.
Thank you for taking the time and consideration to read this foreword.
Blessed Be.
Richard Ainsworth
October 2015
Contents
Chapter 1 : Deliverance
Chapter 2 : Tea For Two
Chapter 3 : Paper Chase
Chapter 4 : Pearls Of Wisdom
Chapter 5 : Doctor Does Little
Chapter 6 : Doctor On The Go
Chapter 7 : Tea And No Sympathy
Chapter 8 : Poor Old Hari, The Unhappy Chappy
Chapter 9 : A Tête-à-tête And Tea
Chapter 10 : Parched And parchment
Chapter 11 : All That Glitters
Chapter 12 : A Crazy Old Bat
Chapter 13 : Today… We Shall Learn Of Our Fête
Chapter 14 : Ruby Meets A Bad Driver
Chapter 15 : Vicar In A Two, Two
Chapter 16 : A Revelation For Ruby
Chapter 17 : Hariman Is Offered A Monopoly
Chapter 18 : Reverend Phullaposi Becomes Bogged Down
Chapter 19 : Nephthys Night
Chapter 20 : Hariman Is Stage Struck
Chapter 21 : Hariman Learns Not To Take The Mike
Chapter 22 : Ask
Epilogue: Underneath The Spreading Chestnut Trees
Warning
Chapter 1
Deliverance
Do what you will, but harm none...
Operor quis vos mos, tamen vulnero nullus
It was a fine, crisp, Summer's Day in Widdowshins; the air was fresh, and the birds in the trees and hedgerows were singing in celebration to anyone who cared to listen. Ruby was up and about bright and early. This being the North West of England, where such weather was unlikely to last very long, she had determined to take advantage of it while she could, and had gone for a leisurely hike in the countryside surrounding the village. Now she was heading for home, the small velvet bag that hung at her side stuffed with the leaves and roots of various potent herbs and plants gathered along the way.
As she turned up the track that led up the hill to her caravan, just beyond the horses' fields, she encountered Dave Hinchy, the Postman, and bid him her customary “Good morning.”
Dave was sitting on a dry stone wall practising his banjo. Dave was a very good banjo player; so good that sometimes people would travel great distances to this small village just to listen, or to play with him. Some would try to compete with him for speed, complexity or dexterity. But whether they played banjo or guitar, he could usually best them. People would hear the music and would gather to watch this 'duel' of banjos. His favourite place for playing his banjo was sitting on a garden swing, dangling his legs and just concentrating on his playing, as if nobody else in the world existed. He was playing that way now; so Ruby was not altogether surprised when he didn't answer.
“Any post for me, David?” she ventured.
Dave didn't even raise his head from his playing: “Already delivered, Miz Derwencast.”
“Ah. Thank you.”
Ruby watched for a few minutes as Dave segued expertly from his own arrangement of “Dark Was The Night, Cold Was The Ground” by way of “Rocky Mountain Breakdown” to “When I'm Cleaning Windows”, and then carried on her way up the hill, enjoying the fresh air and the birdsong.
Presently she arrived at her caravan.
It was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a typical caravan. Above the door there hung an old sign which read 'Blessed be'; and more than one person had uttered these words, or far stronger expressions of surprise, upon entering. Though small on the outside, Ruby's home was surprisingly big on the inside, with all the comforts that anyone could ever need. There were lovely Persian rugs, comfortable chairs and sofas, with deep, well-stuffed cushions, and an old (but very efficient, much-used and well-maintained) soot-blackened stove. Intricate Moroccan lamps, with different-coloured glass panels, hung on long metal chains from the ceiling, casting a warm and mysteriously magical glow throughout. Fixed against each wall, there were shelves. And precariously balanced on these shelves, there were jars, canisters and bottles of herbs and preserves of this, that and the other; all seemingly in disarray, all of wildly differing ages, but all exactly where Ruby would know how to find them. Crammed in between the vari
ous jars and whatnot there were countless spell books, historical books on witchcraft, Wiccan lore, cookery and music. Ruby loved music. She would often have music playing, whether she was tidying, casting a spell, or just enjoying 'cutting the rug', dancing on her own.
Such was Ruby's home.
As she entered, she stooped to pick up the morning’s post, and began sorting through, and then tearing open the various different coloured envelopes:
“Bills, bills, bills... That's all we ever seem to get these days, Tobias.”
Tobias, her familiar – a lazy, but well-intentioned tabby cat, of limited brains, and capacious stomach, a heart of gold, but a head of lead – looked up and blinked at her sleepily for a moment. But, realising that she wasn't offering him anything to eat, he simply yawned, and returned to his slumber.
Ruby continued to mutter and grumble to herself as she made her way to the kitchen to put the kettle on, while she continued to peruse her post. Quickly discarding the various gaudy, melodramatically-worded form letters claiming she had won thousands of pounds in competitions that she had never entered, Ruby was left with a phone bill, a gas bill, and - what was this?
Ruby opened the stark, plain white envelope, and read:
D.H.
You were right!
Blooming marvellous!
Meet most urgent. You know where.
Tonight 8.30pm.
Wait until the noise dies down, and then wait for me underneath.
NO LIGHTS UNTIL I SWITCH THEM ON!
Have sent similar request to H, can't trust the phone.
Walls have ears.
DO NOT BE LATE!!!!
Messages.
Shutt it or Else will have to resort to the surgeon.
The rest of the page was blank – no name, company or otherwise, nor an address.
Clearly the letter had found its way into her mail by mistake. Although, as a practitioner of The Craft, Ruby didn't really believe in mistakes.
“How curious,” she thought. “Now, who was this really for, I wonder? And for what purpose?”
The wording of the note all sounded very mysterious, and the underlying tone seemed quite threatening. Ruby's naturally inquisitive instincts had been aroused.
“D.H.... D.H... Hmmm... Tobias, who do we know with those initials?”
Her faithful feline was too busy snoring to answer.
Ruby could only think of one person... But, surely, he couldn't be mixed up in some secret society or criminal gang? He was very mixed up as a person, true enough, but that just seemed to be his natural state. Well, there was only way to find out for certain. Ruby rummaged about in her small, old, velvet handbag, found her mobile phone and proceeded to dial...
She heard the familiar tone at the other end, which told her that the number was ringing.
“Hello?”
“Hello, David, its Ruby. I think you had better put your banjo aside for a few moments and proceed to my caravan, ASAP. I have a piece of paper in my hand and questions in my head that I have a suspicion you might be able to resolve for me. The kettle is on, and my curiosity is aroused... Don't be long, there's a good chap, or I may have to take more... authoritarian steps in order to satisfy my mind and alleviate my doubts... Ten minutes? Perfect.”
She pressed the button to end the call, refilled the kettle and studied the letter more closely, with growing suspicion and tentative understanding.
Chapter 2
Tea For Two
Not far away, on the other side of Widdowshins, Dave the Postman was scurrying frantically around his cottage, in a blind panic as to which piece of paper Ruby might have been referring. With a growing sense of bowel-knotting trepidation, he checked his untidy kitchen table for a certain, highly-important and confidential plain white letter...
It wasn't there. Oh, no. No, no, no. It must be somewhere...
Dave went right the way through his home again, checking everywhere and everything. Finally, as a dreaded last resort, he decided to check the small over-crowded waste-bin in his very cramped and messy bedroom. Heaven alone knew what was in that bin, and how long it had been there. He braced himself, closed his eyes, rolled up his sleeve, turned his head away to avoid the brunt of the rank smell emanating from whatever was currently fermenting in the bin's slimy depths, and very, very gingerly dipped in his hand and arm, with the forlorn hope that the letter would, by some small miracle be in there, no matter how thickly covered in nasty goo and things…
Nope. Nothing. He could find nothing. The only things he did discover were that, a) bananas DO NOT stay solid for four weeks, and b) putting his hand in a semi-liquid pile of the aforementioned fruit made him feel distinctly nauseous.
It was almost as if the letter had just disappeared from the face of the earth. In his mind, however, with a queasy increasing certainty, Dave knew all-too-well where the incriminating document had ended up. And if it WAS where he thought it was, and if 'The Others' discovered that he had lost it, and that it had been subsequently found by another party – and worst of all, that particular party – then he was in BIG trouble, SERIOUS trouble, and the outlook would not be particularly rosy for him...
Thus, within ten minutes there was a frantic banging on Ruby's door.
“Come in, David,” Ruby called. The caravan door was unlocked; she'd known he would arrive sooner, rather than later.
The door opened, and Dave stood before her, breathless, pale and nervous.
Ruby eyed him thoughtfully, knowing that she was in the position of power.
“David, you are perspiring like an overworked donkey on the sands of Blackpool beach during the height of summer. My boy, a tiny piece of personal advice. Sweating is never an endearing quality, no matter what the circumstances.”
She shepherded him through to the stove.
“Tea?'” It was more a statement of fact than a question. Ruby had already poured a cup and was passing it over to him, even as she spoke.
David accepted the tea, along with a ginger nut biscuit. He sipped politely from the china teacup, then placed it back on the matching pink-and-white Art Deco porcelain saucer and smiled unconvincingly. In order to break the tension, he tried a little flattering small-talk:
“Nice tea... English Breakfast? I don't normally drink this; I normally buy the supermarket's own cheap stuff, to be honest...”
Ruby scowled at him:
“Nice tea?! NICE TEA??!!! Don't talk to me about nice tea. I KNOW it's nice tea – I bought it. I drink quite a lot of tea. I know the difference between good tea and bad tea, and I don't see the point of pouring rubbish down my throat, so don't try to butter me up about tea....”
Tobias recognised the tone in Ruby's voice. He slid off the cushion and slipped silently out of the caravan. He knew Ruby was not in the mood for small talk.
“I didn't invite you over to discuss the niceties of tea on the palate and the relative merits of a supermarket's dried, shrivelled, pre-processed, mass-produced beverage as opposed to a hand-picked connoisseur blend. No, David. I summoned you here to explain this...”
From out of her pocket, Ruby produced a now slightly crumpled, thick, white sheet of paper. With a flourish, she waved it under his nose.
“I trust that this little missive was intended for your information, and for your eyes only, and was not supposed to be mixed in, as has erroneously transpired, with the bills and advertisements that seem to plague me with a tedious regularity?”
Dave wasn't too sure that he could speak with any certainty with reference to the rest of her mail, but he did know now that Ruby had his letter... and he needed it back in his possession; the quicker, the better.
“I'm sorry. It – It wasn't meant for you.... It wasn’t meant to get mixed up with your post. I need it back. It's nothing, really. It's about a club. Please, forget all about it. It means nothing. Just a note to remind me to attend a meeting.” He underlined his earnestness by repeating the same weak, unconvincing smile .
“The phrase 'sh
ut it or else' does not strike me as a gentle reminder, and threatening a person with a 'surgeon' does not seem particularly friendly or endearing. Do you consider it so?”
Ruby left her sentence open, waiting for Dave to finish it for her.
He shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot, edging himself nearer to Ruby, and to the precious, precious letter...
“I... I... I don't really know what to say, apart from – ”
With a speed that Ruby would never have credited, Dave suddenly lunged forward, snatched at the vital document in her hand and, using the same momentum, pushed past her, and on, on, through the door and out into the open air. He left with so much force that the door banged shut on his fingers and then flew open again.
By the time Ruby had gathered her wits, he was off, fast as his limping gait could carry him, up the path and down the road.
Ruby bolted to her door:
“Come back! Come back! David! Are you all right?”
Her words were all to no avail.
Dave continued rapidly on his way, his petulantly dismissive voice carrying back to her, faintly, on the wind:
“Yes. Yes. I'm OK... Pain is good! Please forget about this. It was all a mistake.”
Tobias slunk between Ruby's legs and back into the caravan, hoping that the drama had finally ended.
After a moment, Ruby shrugged her shoulders and then she, too, returned inside, to finish her tea.
“Strange boy”, she tutted. “I tell you, No good will come of this, Tobias. No good at all.”
It was only then that Ruby realised she still held the top third of the letter in her hand.
She topped up the tea in her dainty cup, sat down at the table and unfolded what remained of the note in front of her. Then she put her elbows on the table, rested her chin on her hands and thoughtfully began to scrutinise the torn scrap of paper…