by Cenarth Fox
Now Jessica Reid was many things but innocent?
Looking around the shed, Bernie discovered even more memories from those old days, happy days.
Then he felt under the table, and from a hidden crack, he withdrew the only and much folded copy of the formula of his conscience drug.
It was a photocopy of the page from the calendar. The master copy had become confetti-like pieces scattered in landfill.
What will I do?
Bernie knew his formula was explosive. It certainly worked. If people from every walk of life came under pressure to admit their crimes, their wrongful actions, and even their simple lies, what would happen?
Would society be better?
If the MCP prevented crimes or hurtful behaviour, surely that’s a good thing.
Ah, decisions, decisions. Talking it over with people like Lois and Annuska sounded sensible, even essential. He procrastinated.
I wish I didn’t have to make a decision.
He heard voices and panicked.
Police? How do I explain being here?
He peered through the dirty window. Not police; hard hats and hi vis vests. He folded the formula, and slid it back inside the table.
‘Morning,’ he said stepping out of the shed.
‘Morning,’ replied the surprised workers.
Bernie saved them asking questions.
‘I’m having a last look round. This was my family home. My folks lived here I think forever.’
‘No worries,’ said the boss.
‘Do you blokes work on a Sunday?’
‘It’s our only chance to check out new jobs.’
Bernie became curious. ‘So when do you start the demolition?’
‘With the house, we have to wait for council approval, but it’s just a matter of time. Now we’re having a reccy, and a minor cleanout.’
‘Well I’ll let you get on,’ said Bernie, starting to walk away.
‘Is there anything you wanna take? The swing perhaps?’
Bernie shook his head. Then he stopped.
‘Yeah, why not? The grandkids love this swing.’
One of the workers fired up a chainsaw. The men lopped the tree limb then cut the knots that Gus created last millennium. They wrapped the ropes around the plank, and handed the swing to Bernie.
‘That’s great, thanks.’
‘We’ll chop the tree and demolish the shed, so if there’s anything you want to save, now’s the time.’ They prepared to start work.
Bernie’s memories of his dad and the shed flooded back — his father’s equipment, the things he made, the lessons, the fun, the science, that old red light, and the love between a father and son — all in the men’s shed.
Then Bernie thought of his conscience drug, the trials, the crazy people chasing it, and the only copy of the formula hidden in that shed.
Grab the formula, Bernie. Hide it somewhere safe for when times are different. You never know when it might be needed. He decided.
‘No, thanks’ he said. ‘Sometimes it’s good to make a clean break. Bring on your skip and saw, and demolish away.’
As he walked down the driveway for the final time, the sounds of breaking glass and a chainsaw filled the air.
Right at that moment, his conscience was clear.
Epilogue
The Hyphen
Claiming ignorance of everything, Ralph avoided any police charges —his bomb destroyed the evidence — but not the censure of his employer. Head Office in the States ruled in favour of Ralph’s early retirement.
He collected his super, sold his South Yarra apartment, and bought a Bed and Breakfast cottage in the country. Today he gives science lectures at the U3A in Daylesford.
Luca Parisi
His dreams of great wealth, and respect from the Calabrian Mafia were dashed when the police went after him with a vengeance. Because Luca escaped that albeit false murder charge, the cops were pretty pissed.
The unlicensed weapons issue became child’s play. The new list of charges was shorter than War and Peace but only just.
It included kidnapping, attempted murder, aggravated assault, false imprisonment, destruction of evidence, extortion with threats to kill, importing commercial quantities of drugs, tax evasion, trafficking in a drug of dependence, and use of firearms in the commission of offences.
Luca needed a good lawyer. He tried you-know-who but Jessica refused to take his calls. He thought about grassing on the Premier then remembered her reputation. He pleaded guilty, and gave up homemade gnocchi for porridge — the institutional variety.
Sheila Parisi
She teamed up with her daughter-in-law. Kellie went back to running a beauty parlour offering style cuts, colour/tinting and manicures. Little Angelo had the best babysitter in town.
Lois
She retired with her super and a generous payout from Labcope. Being kidnapped pays. With born-again Mother in tow, Lois packed her Mum and their bags, and she and the old girl sailed away on a world cruise.
Bernie
The head honcho from the States came Down Under. He sensed Bernie had skills and imagination to burn. Alas Bernie had no desire to climb the greasy pole. A new CEO arrived from the US, and Bernie accepted a promotion as Scientist in Charge of New Developments.
Albert came to his senses, and moved back to Cremorne.
Annuska and Dorothy
The women went to the local animal shelter, and adopted two cats they named Bernie and Slim. Their namesake became a regular dinner guest in Balaclava.
Animal
He divided his time between mowing lawns, and trying to track down fellow thugs in order to apologise. He was better at gardening.
Once Genevieve left hospital, she discovered her headaches from the MCP had faded. This confused her. Was there an unknown antidote? Perhaps the placebo worked. Or did the whack to her head destroy or dissipate the impact of the MCP? Did the drug simply fade in time?
She pondered a return to work. Why not return to banking?
Jessica wanted Genevieve back in harness in Spring Street.
One Saturday morning, Bernie opened his front door.
‘Hello,’ said Genevieve, who was invited inside.
Bernie and his former human guinea pig chatted for ages. Bernie apologised profusely. He worried.
Is she wearing a wire? Has she come to accuse me, assault me, or report me to the cops or to Labcope?
It was none of the above. ‘I have a request,’ said Genevieve. ‘May I have a small amount of your conscience drug?’
Whoa. Heavy.
‘I’m happy to pay,’ added the visitor.
Bernie shook his head. ‘Sorry, it’s all gone. That drug caused terrible grief.’ He indicated his visitor. ‘Present company a perfect example.’
‘Let me tell you what I want it for.’ She explained, and her explanation worked. He weakened.
‘And you promise to only use it in the manner we discussed?’
‘I promise, cross m’heart and hope to die.’
In his bathroom, Bernie found a small container of prescription drugs. The contents didn’t match the label. It was the old “hiding in plain view” trick. He popped two capsules in a plain container.
In time, Genevieve returned to work for Jessica, and together, the old team pushed the Premier’s ratings ever higher. Politically, life was good.
But Genevieve had a secret. She owned two Moral Compass Pills, a fact known only to her and a Mr Bernard Delahunty Slim.
The Premier suspected something. What, she didn’t know. Was it her conscience nagging her? Did she have a conscience?
Her relationship with Genevieve never returned to that of the pre-MCP days, and whenever Jessica took tea or coffee with her Chief of Staff, a thought pinged in the Premier’s brain. Am I being drugged?
Jessica feared what she and Genevieve never discussed — the dreaded conscience drug. Just the threat of the effects of the MCP kept the Premier on the straight and narrow. Well,
in that general direction.
Bernie took Gary for his daily walk. The simple life suited them. Bernie’s dream of a Moral Compass Pill was dead and buried; or so he thought.
In fact, his conscience drug was working flat out without ever being consumed. It was the power of its potential, the power of Bernie’s idea.
A person with a new idea is a crank until the idea succeeds.
Mark Twain
Titles by Cenarth Fox
Fiction
The Schoolboy Sherlock Holmes (Books 1-5)
A Plum Job
Cassocked Savage
Tricky Conscience
Non-Fiction
Staging Successful Shows
The Stage Musical
Play It Again, Ham
Drama Skits ‘n Tips
Poetry in Motion
Write and Sell Your Own Plays
Code Cracker
Teach a Toddler to Read
Plays
Agatha Crispie, As Farce As You Can, Aunt Georgy, Believing Thomas, Betty’s Birthday, Box-Office Break-In, Dead In the Morning, Death by Eating, How to Enjoy Your Own Funeral, If You Knew Susie, It’ll Be All Wrong on the Night, Nursing Holmes, Pilate Error, Remain Seated, Resting, Romeo and Juditha, Saucy Pat,
Shakespeare in Saigon, Stage Mothers, The Merry Widows,
The Real Sherlock Holmes, This Is Your Captain Speaking
Musicals
Bytes, Cobbers, Dinkum Poppies, Doctor Pimples,
Don Bradman Lives Next Door, Fairy Tales, Far Out, Fish ‘n Ships, Fogies, Garden Folk, Germs, Jukebox, Jungle, Lollies, Moving On,
Rat Race, Roll ‘n Rock, Rubbish, Scrubbers, Shakespeare the Musical, Sherlock Stock and Barrel, Smokies, Squawk!, Suburban Circus, The Originals, Toys, Trivia
Radio Series
The Invisible Radio Show (24 episodes)
The Story of Jazz (8 episodes)
The History of Rock ‘n Roll (8 episodes)
A Plum Job
It’s 1940. Germany is smashing through the Low Countries and the British, Belgian and French forces are trapped at Dunkirk. The Nazis will soon be in Gay Paree.
Louise Wellesley is a gorgeous, aristocratic young Englishwoman desperate to become an actress. But her upbringing demands that young women of her class go to finishing school, the Buckingham Palace debutante ball, and then remain at home until the right chap comes along. Such young ladies most definitely do not cavort semi-naked upon the wicked stage.
But war brings change. People tell lies. Rules are broken, and when you’re in a foreign country and living by your wits while facing arrest, torture and death from the French police, Resistance, Gestapo and a double-agent, you bloody well better remember your lines, act out of your skin, and never ever bump into the furniture. Oh and it helps if your new best friend is Edith Piaf.
Cenarth Fox tells his story with prose that carries the reader along its fluid course—often with a wry dose of humour. A Plum Job is a tale of two lives, one the life of a cheeky English schoolgirl, the other a bold and independent young woman who bares her breasts on stage in Paris and outwits the Gestapo. The scenes are exquisitely set and the characters fully fledged. For the fan of historical fiction, A Plum Job is required reading. Scott Skipper
A Plum Job is about passion and perseverance, about missed opportunities and great losses. The fictional tale Fox has woven through historical events is captivating and filled with drama and excitement, it’s even a little bit heartbreaking to be honest. It’s not 100% historically accurate but it is hard to put down all the same with a story that’s filled with drama, excitement, and suspense. Amy Brownlee
I found it hard to put down. Reading about Plum was a pleasure but I kept laying the book aside after the Nazi episodes for a day or so of recovery. Congratulations on a job so intelligently put together.
Trevor Blum
www.foxplays.com
Books - Novels
Cassocked Savage
Patrick Brontë was a poor, Irish redhead—a brilliant Cambridge graduate and a priest for some 55 years. His daughters, Charlotte, Emily and Anne, were lauded; he was lambasted. Why? Why say he chopped chairs, cut clothes, and made his kids vegetarians? Why say he banned newspapers, and took pot shots at headstones? Why tell lies? Well actually the gun and the graveyard bit is true. But the other stuff? Was he really a cassocked savage?
Patrick’s been given a raw deal. Was he not the reason his daughters were so darn creative?
It’s time for the truth, Patrick.
A splendid story, reading like a Victorian melodrama … the convincing story of Patrick’s family life at Haworth. Louise Joy
Portrays the life of Brontë in remarkable style giving a deeper insight in to a famous literary family. Rev. Philip Higgins
I absolutely loved this book. Patrick Brontë was a Man of Sorrows.
Marie Ryan Readings and Writings
Cenarth Fox has seized the day to revisit Patrick Brontë, an extraordinary man who encouraged his children to read, to think, and hence to imagine. Geraldine Starbrook
I loved the book and I loved Patrick. All the characters are so believable. They made me cry. Veronica Hannebery
I laughed and cried in my journey through the pages … a beautifully written portrait of poor old Patrick. Jonne Herbert
Wonderfully evocative—Patrick’s fabulous journey from poverty in Ireland to the Yorkshire I know and love. Steve Stanworth (Churchwarden and Site coordinator for the Bronte Bell Chapel, Thornton)
www.foxplays.com
Books - Novels
Thank you
Thank you for reading this novel. I hope you enjoyed it.
If you’d care to review it on Amazon or Goodreads, I’ll be most grateful.
If you’d like to receive my free newsletter, please write to me at [email protected]
Cenarth Fox
www.foxplays.com
My new novel is called Groucho and Will
Table of Contents
Epilogue
www.foxplays.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Other titles
Table of Contents
Epilogue
www.foxplays.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Other titles