The Stone

by Graham Adams

  ‘Why did they send you to Siberia?’ Edmund asked him.

  ‘My brother and I didn’t like the Russian occupation of Poland, and I guess that someone informed on us and we were sent to a logging camp in Siberia without any trial. The conditions were so bad that my brother cut off his hand and put it in a pile of logs going to Finland, he also put a note in it so the world would know how the bastard Ruskies treated us!’

  ‘What happened to your brother?’ Edmund was shocked.

  ‘They discovered the hand and note in the woodpile before it left the camp, and they shot my brother!’

  Edmund looked at the big face and could see the pain in it, and he was so greatly moved by the story, he just couldn’t speak with the emotion that it had invoked in him. Fortunately he had cleverly let John in the office know where he was going for lunch, so when he returned, there were no recriminations, but they did notice how upset he looked, and asked him what was wrong, but he said nothing to them.

  At every opportunity, Edmund quizzed Dmitri about his time before coming to England, and the stories that he prized out of the Pole were both shocking and nauseating, and could not fail to impress. In return Dmitri was so pleased that at least someone was showing an interest in the huge difficulties he’d undergone at the hands of his cruel captors.

  For three years he toiled in the dingy office and the paltry sum that he worked for hardly moved at all. All of the local unskilled young people working with their hands in factories had the opportunity to earn much more, even though they were usually less academically gifted. It seemed that working as an office junior on the bottom rung was all well and good, but a young man needs to be able to have something to show for his labours. So he took the offer of further education at the local college, one day per week, to achieve the accountancy qualifications they offered.

  In his hometown of about 30,000 souls, many of the adults were frequenting the forty-nine pubs and numerous drinking clubs on a nightly basis. Without the wherewithal to join them, his opportunities for a good social life were extremely limited to say the least. The centre of the town was the Market Place, an open area at the top of a steep high street. The centrepiece was a seven hundred year old church – St Mary’s. However this area was surrounded by a notorious group of ‘spit and sawdust’ pubs that became well known for fights and gang trouble around closing time.

  One particular time of year, in October there was the Annual Fair in which the whole of the Market Place was filled with the usual fairground entertainments. The whole event covered a three-night period from Thursday to Saturday. It was a brave person who would walk around the area after ten p.m. Edmund did just that on the Saturday, and he witnessed an event that shook him greatly.

  He was standing at a stall that sold candyfloss and the local delicacy, brandy snap. Across from where he was standing, he was deafened by the screams of the occupants of the ‘Waltzer’ that was spinning at breakneck speed to the sound of ‘Pretty Woman’ by the great Roy Orbison, being played at full bore.

  Suddenly from out of the Market Inn door flew a half empty pint pot. It hit the person serving on the stall. She was knocked out cold in front of him! He helped other witnesses to carry her away to a waiting St John’s Ambulance. ‘Pretty Woman’ seemed rather ironic, he thought to himself, as blood was pouring from her wound. However, there were no police willing to enter the pub and track down the felon. Someone told Edmund that this event was commonplace, so that made him think that the town was more like a lawless western town. Civilised it was not!

  The final straw came during the winter of 1963. A continuous downpour over a period of two weeks resulted in a river pouring down Old Crompton Street on one particular Sunday, causing in a major flood at the plant.

  Totally unaware, Edmund alighted from the bus as usual on the Monday morning, and proceeded down the street to the plant. He hadn’t noticed that the air didn’t stink, or that the quencher was silent. As he turned to walk through the huge gates, he stopped in surprise. There was no going forward; a huge lake surrounded the squat offices.

  The water was black and oily, and the red Rover 110 belonging to Mr Newman the Director was parked on the edge of it. The window rolled down and a suited arm beckoned Edmund closer. He tentatively approached the window, and the old walrus leaned out.

  ‘Edmund, go fetch me my Gold Block.’ Mr Newman ordered, waving a crisp pound note.

  Edmund as usual obeyed, and ran back up the street automatically, but he was thinking about what the flooded office would look like, and if there was anyone in there.

  ‘Maybe old Uriah Heep is crouched on his desk right now, unable to swim out’ he thought, almost laughing to himself.

  In fifteen minutes he had been to the corner shop, the owner had made sure that the bosses’ tobacco was always in stock. Edmund purchased the Gold Block tin and dropped it into the waiting hand.

  ‘It will take a week for us to get back to normal at the plant so there’ll be nothing for you to do until next Monday’

  ‘Yes, but what about...’

  ‘Don’t worry son, you will be paid, after all, it’s not your fault’ laughing cynically. ‘I will inform Harold personally’

  Edmund turned on his heels and ran up the street to the bus stop. He didn’t thank him, why should he? On the crap wages he was paying, he could take as long as he liked to get back to normal. A whole week off, he thought, with pay, that will do.’ He thought, and smiled to himself as he imagined old Uriah Heep up to his neck in the filthy water.

  The next bus home was a trolley bus powered by overhead wires but with no tracks, commonly known as a ‘trackless’. Home was in an eighteen-house cul-de-sac in the centre of a small council estate situated in the North area of the town. In the small street, in six out of the eighteen houses there lived young people of his own age or near who had been at the same junior school, yet he was the only one in the estate who graduated to the grammar school. That being the case, none of the others were close friends, although this did not bother him at all.

  Most weekends would be spent walking in the surrounding fields, woods, and the remains of two closed coalmines. Winding machines and huge spoil tips were common in this area. There was nearby, a particular chain of spoil tips that looked similar to a small range of mountains, and in the winter the snow stayed on the caps of them giving the landscape an alpine look. At the base of the first of these, where rainwater had collected over the years, a small reservoir had formed. Locally known as Nutbrook, it attracted wildlife and was a regular haunt of the local fishermen.

  Roach, perch, barbell and tench were the main quarry along with a fabled giant pike that many of the fishermen had seen, but never caught. There was a small bridge, which bisected the lake, and as one approached it over the brow of a hill, it was quite a peaceful sight to the eyes, even though it was formed originally from the waste of the coal mining industry.

  Nutbrook was very often the end of the walk for Edmund, being about three miles from home and he very often took a different route back. On this particular day, the route he chose from the lake took him through a recently ploughed field. As many locals had told, an enemy aircraft had been shot down in the dogfights during the battle of Britain and had crash-landed in this particular field. Constant ploughing had brought up relics of the wreckage, but only small items such as nuts and bolts and tiny pieces of twisted metal, but each finder prized them. Nothing found could be identified as from a Stuker, Heinkel or Messerschmitt, but was prized none the less.

  This particular field was a big one and he struggled with his footing at times, as the soil was heavy. About halfway across Edmund heard his name being called, faintly but clearly. As he looked to the far edge there was a tiny figure waving. Unknown to him at the time, this moment was a pivotal one in his life, the beginning of a major change in it.

  Picking up speed he approached the figure, and it wasn’t too long before he recognised him.

  ‘Paul, what are you doing here? I thought
you were in ‘Brum.’ They were not alike physically, but very similar in other ways, Paul lived in the same street, not four doors away from his own, and was only four days younger than him.

  Their paths however, separated at the age of eleven. Paul was not the most gifted individual intellectually and was destined to spend his senior schooldays at the local Secondary Modern. He left school without much of an education, at fifteen. He was however a gifted footballer, both for school and as a junior member of the Town team. At sixteen he was quickly spotted to join the ranks of the prestigious Aston Villa football club after successfully passing their trials.

  The look on Pauls face said it all. ‘They didn’t give me a chance in the first team, not a chance.’ Edmund looked at his face but said nothing. There was no way that he knew the workings of the First Division team, but he thought that sometimes it’s not just the natural skill that matters, but naked ambition must play a major part, and from what he knew of Paul, sometimes ambition might be lacking.

  ‘Still, mate, they did give you a good run, two years isn’t bad’

  Paul was hurt by that remark, but over time he got used to the idea. Loss of pride, and fathers’ high expectations of him, is a hard pill to swallow. They walked back to the street together, and after a while of listening to Paul’s tale of woe, Edmund described what he endured at the plant. As their homes drew closer, they laughed at the descriptions that he gave of the people he worked with.

  5: The Great Enigma

  Mysterious necklace

  Two weeks had passed since their honeymoon; Gary and Ellie were back at their respective jobs. Both were relaxing in the warm living room of their modest semi near the centre of Oxford, and a comfortable atmosphere pervaded. Ellie peered over the top of her book and looked at Gary’s face reflected in the light of his laptop, his face looked somewhat puzzled.

  ‘Hmm interesting’ he muses.

  ‘What’s that?’ Ellie looks up.

  ‘That stone, the one that spooky guy gave you on the beach, I’m trying to identify it on a geological website and there is nothing like it here.’ Gary peered into the screen.

  Ellie put her book down, moved over to the couch and picked up the stone. She immediately felt a slight energy in her hand. Bringing it closer to the light and moving it in her hand there seemed to be an uncanny depth inside it, somehow. The stone vaguely resembled the shape of a teardrop, and on closer inspection, she noticed a tiny hole pierced in the pointed end.

  ‘Did you notice the hole in the stone darling?’ she asked.

  Gary looked up from the laptop. ‘Hole, what hole? I didn’t notice any hole. Let me see.’ He shook his head ‘Looks like I’m wasting my time with this, I think that we should ask your friend Ro to look at it. Maybe she might find us some answers.’

  Ellie’s best friend Rowena was once a jeweller in London, but had decided to get out of the rat race, and was lucky enough to find a gift shop for sale in the medieval city of Salisbury, where she could use all her training, but in a more satisfying way. She gradually changed the gift shop into a more up-market venture – changing the existing range of gifts to higher jewellery content so that she could utilise her long training in London.

  Ellie rang Rowena straight away. She was most intrigued with what she heard about the mystery stone, so she asked them to bring it to her on the coming Saturday. However when the Saturday arrived, Gary could not make it, due to the fact that he had to finish a report for work by the following Monday.

  Ellie finally arrived at the little shop, complete with her stone clutched in her hand. They were so happy to see each other again, but skipped all the pleasantries as Rowena held out her hand to Ellie.

  ‘Well, where is this mystery stone then?’ Ellie promptly passed it over and Rowena held it into the light, turning it this way and that. ‘What’s the story Ellie, where did you get it from?’

  ‘We were walking along the beach called Fisherman’s Walk and caught up with this strange man, who asked if I would like the stone, he said he found it on the beach that day.’ Ellie explained.

  After a brief silence, Rowena’s eyes became dark, and she furrowed her brow.

  ‘I don’t think this was lying on the beach, things like this don’t wash up like a common pebble, love. What did the man look like, was he old, young, tall, short? Sorry about all the questions, but it might help me to identify it.’ Rowena quizzed.

  Ellie described the man and what he was wearing, and that he didn’t seem the ordinary type of person that one might meet on the sea front.

  ‘Was there anything else you can remember?’ Rowena asked.

  ‘Well, the last thing I remember was that just after he gave it to me; he seemed to give me a smile, more like he was relieved to unload it. Does that seem strange?’ Ellie explained.

  Rowena didn’t directly answer the question, as she was deep in thought, peering closely at the stone with a magnifying glass.

  ‘Look, nothing rings a bell for me, and if you want an answer, I would like to keep it for a few days. Of course I will take care of it.’ Rowena said.

  Somehow, Ellie felt somewhat anxious with the thought of the stone being out of her possession, even for such a short time, but she nodded her agreement to Rowena. Some customers arrived in the shop so she took the opportunity to leave, but not before she made Rowena promise to take care of her stone, and to ring her in the week.

  Driving back home Ellie was trying to justify the anxiety she felt at being without her stone. Already it seemed to be wielding its power on her, though she was not aware of what power it was at this time.

  With it not being the most successful visit to her best friend, Gary noticed how distant she was to him.

  ‘No news about the stone then?’ He asked. Ellie recounted all that happened at the shop and how even Rowena needed more time to get an answer for her.

  ‘It’s only a stone, no need to get too upset about it, don’t you think?’ Gary said dismissively.

  ‘I guess it’s the not knowing that upsets me the most. Honestly I can’t explain why I feel so bad about it though.’ She said.

  Ellie tried hard to put the anxiousness behind her for the following days after her visit to Salisbury, and tried to throw herself into her job and not to think about whether Rowena had found anything out or not. Sure enough, by the following Thursday, Ellie’s mobile burst into life.

  ‘Hi Ellie, its Rowena here, can we meet up for lunch next Saturday? I think I may have found something, not sure, but it’s a start!’

  ‘What have you got Ro?’ Ellie asked.

  ‘Rather tell you face to face if that’s alright’ pleaded Rowena

  ‘Fine, that’s OK. Why not come on over here? We’d love you to come for dinner, Ro. Give me a chance to show off my cooking skills.’

  ‘Sorry, would love to but I’m out on Saturday night in Bath and can’t move it. Anyway, I feel that if you were to come over here in the shop, it might help you understand what I have found out for you. Please understand.’

  Ellie gave in easily to her friend, as she knew that she wasn’t the best of cooks anyway.

  ’OK Ro I’ll see you around mid-day at the shop then’

  ‘You won’t be disappointed Ellie.’ And then she rang off.

  It had been a long hard week for Ellie. In her waking hours, all she could think about were the unanswered questions, and try as she might to answer them, all that came to her mind were more questions, And at night it was no better, as soon as she nodded off, her mind kept going over to the man on the beach. Sometimes he looked angry, as if she shouldn’t have let Rowena keep the stone and he was remonstrating with her. Even Gary remarked how ‘peaky’ she looked. She hoped that when Saturday had arrived she would feel much better with the comfort of the stone back in her palm.

  Gary arrived home late that night and didn’t seem himself to Ellie. ‘Are you drunk Gary?’ She asked him.

  ‘No, but I did have a couple of glasses of Barolo with the pasta’ he
said. ‘But the meeting went very well. Do you have any news about the stone from Rowena?’

  She had made the room cosy and welcoming for him, peeling off his heavy overcoat and scarf and despatching them to the hallway. ‘It seems she has got some news about the stone but she wouldn’t tell me over the phone. I’ve agreed to go there again this Saturday’

  ‘Why doesn’t she come here for a change?’ Gary asked.

  ‘I did invite her for dinner, but she couldn’t make it’

  ‘Well since my meeting tonight, I can’t get there either.’ He looked at her rather sheepishly. ‘The work I have to do over the weekend could have a great influence on both our futures, darling.’