by Sam Short
“But she’s living a fantasy,” said Judith. “Surely that’s not healthy?”
“It’s healthier than fully admitting to herself that she was such a terrible wife her husband left her,” said Millie. “I sensed that all she wanted was for somebody in authority to tell her what she wanted to hear. To tell her that her husband had been kidnapped, and that he had no choice in leaving her. She knew I didn’t really believe it, but the words were enough to calm her mind. It may have been wrong of me, but I don’t care — she’s punished herself for twenty years, maybe she’ll have a few easier years ahead of her. I hope she will — her mind is a very tormented place at the moment.”
Judith put a hand on Millie’s arm. “Don’t tune into people’s thoughts, Millie. It’s not good for you.”
Millie smiled. “I won’t. I’m officially tuning out from this second on.” She opened her door. “Come on, let’s get this interview over with, so we can go home.”
Judith stepped out of the car and consulted the paperwork in her file. “This should be simple. The mother vanished thirty years ago, both the police and the family believe she moved abroad, but no solid proof was ever found. This won’t take long. It’s another formality — we’ll be in and out, and then maybe we could head back to your cottage and enjoy some wine on that lovely little patio of yours which overlooks the sea and is always in the sun — not that I’m jealous, of course.”
Millie laughed. “You know you’re welcome whenever you like, but yes, wine on the patio sounds like a grand idea!”
“So let’s make this quick,” said Judith, knocking on the door and taking a step backwards.
Within half a minute, the door was opened by a smiling man holding a dog’s lead. He barked an order at the little dog at his feet, and the terrier stopped its yapping immediately, sitting dutifully as it stared up at the two visitors. “Yes?” asked the man. “Can I help you?”
“We’re here to speak to you and your wife about the disappearance of your wife’s mother,” explained Judith. “I’m assuming you’re Mister Harris?”
“Oh yes!” said the man. “But call me Chester, please. The sergeant phoned Jill last week and asked if it would be okay.” He looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “I explained to the sergeant that Jill took a long time to come to terms with the sudden disappearance of her mother, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t raise her hopes about ever finding her.”
“You have our word,” said Millie. “This is purely a formality. We’re here to see if you or your wife have any additional information we can add to the case notes — we’re not here to deliver any fresh information of our own.”
The man smiled. “Well, come on in. I was just about to take little Harry here for a walk, but that can wait.”
“It won’t take long,” said Judith, following the man into the house, bending to pat the dog on the head. “Just a couple of quick questions.”
Chester led them through the house and into the kitchen, where a woman wearing casual clothing stirred something on the stove. Chester went to her side and put a hand on her arm. “These young ladies have come to speak to us about your mother, Jill,” he said.
“Oh! I wasn’t expecting you today. The sergeant didn’t give us a date,” said Jill, placing a lid on the pot and wiping her hands on a tea-towel. “I’d have been a bit more presentable had I known you were coming, and I certainly wouldn’t have been cooking!”
Millie sniffed the air, her nostrils tingling. “Curry?” she asked.
“Chester’s favourite," Jill confirmed. “Lamb vindaloo. Not for the faint of heart.” She moved an open newspaper from the table in the centre of the room. “Take the weight off your feet,” she offered. “Tea, coffee? A cold drink?”
“No thank you,” said Judith, sitting down. “We won’t take up much of your time. This is just a formality. We need to keep our records updated.”
“Naturally,” said Jill, pushing at the little dog as he jumped up at her knee. She glanced at her husband. “Harry needs his walk,” she said, taking a seat next to Millie. “I can deal with this. Why don’t you take him out and see if you can get a glimpse of the monster on the beach?”
Chester shook his head and sat down. “No,” he said, squeezing his wife’s hand. “I’ll take him later. He’s been out once already today. This is important. The so-called monster can wait.”
“Monster?” said Millie.
“That’s what Mrs Jordan is calling it,” said Jill. “She was walking her dog and managed to catch a glimpse of it before they cordoned off the area and hid it beneath a tent. The expert at the beach told her it’s just a dinosaur, but Mrs Jordan telephoned me and said that men dressed in black arrived in a black van with tinted windows, and apparently people aren’t allowed within half a mile of the skeleton. They wouldn’t do that for a simple dinosaur skeleton, surely? It’s all very exciting.”
“We’ve been busy,” said Judith, glancing at Millie. “We hadn’t heard about all the fuss.”
Chester tutted, his heavy eyelids drooping as he rolled his eyes. “It’s just a dinosaur,” he said. “We’re on the Jurassic Coast. I’m sure there are plenty of monsters buried on that beach, and I’m sure it won’t be the last one they find. The sooner they dig it up and take it away, the better. We don’t want Spellbinder Bay turning into some sort of monster hunting carnival attraction! Not just that, either — there are rare protected flowers growing next to that beach — it would be a shame to have fossil hunters digging in the dunes and damaging them. It’s illegal, too — those flowers are not to be disturbed! They’re protected by law! They’re more important than old bones.”
Jill flicked a strand of long brown hair from her face. “You and your rare flowers!” She smiled at Millie. “Who’d have thought that such a beefy man would be so fond of seaside flowers? Well, I think the monster is exciting,” she said. She looked at the file in front of Judith. “But I’m sure you’ve got far more important things to be doing than talking about monsters,” she said with a smile. “Please carry on, and ask what you need to ask.”
Judith opened the file and looked at the case notes. “I just need you to run over what happened, and tell me if there’s anything more you need to add.”
“No. There have been no more developments,” said Jill, looking down. “My mother simply vanished. She lived here with me and Chester.” She glanced around the kitchen. “This was her house. Is her house. Chester and I were married young — in our twenties, and when Chester lost his job we couldn’t afford a home of our own, so Mum took us in. She was kind like that. Is kind like that.”
Chester placed a big hand over his wife’s. “She was very kind to me. Like you are.”
Jill smiled. “I knew she was speaking to a man,” she said. “A married man. A Canadian chap. They’d met when he was over here working, and had stayed in touch by phone and letters when he went home. He would send her gifts, too. I think she loved him. I’m sure she loved him, but I never expected her to just up and leave to be with him. Not without telling me, at least.”
Judith scanned the case notes. “It says here that a suitcase full of clothes had gone from her bedroom, along with her passport. The police believe she moved to Canada to be with the gentleman in question, but failed to track him or your mother down. There was no record of her passport being used, but in those days security wasn’t so tight,” she said. “She could have left the country without leaving a trail.”
“Mum was ill,” Jill said. “Mentally ill. We’re sure she suffered from bipolar, but back then the doctors still referred to it as manic-depression. It wasn’t a nice thing to be diagnosed with, so Mum never saw a doctor about it. We think she had it, though. Has it. Some of the choices she made in life must have been down to an illness. They’d have made no sense otherwise.”
“She was always making rash decisions,” said Chester. “I wasn’t surprised that she would just move to Canada without informing anybody. She could be very cunning, too �
�� when in the grip of a manic phase. She could have sneaked out of the country easily. I really wasn’t surprised that she’d done it.”
“Me neither, if I’m honest,” said Jill. “It would be nice to know if she’s okay, though. She’ll be in her seventies now. I’d like to know how she is. She had terrible rheumatoid arthritis. It was bad back then, poor woman. I’d imagine she’s in an awful lot of pain these days.”
“And there’s been no more information in the years since?” asked Millie, tickling Harry’s head beneath the table, smiling as the little dog licked her hand.
“Nothing at all,” said Jill. “We’ve got used to it. I don’t think about it as much as I once did. I try and keep it out of my mind. I just hope she’s happy.”
Judith closed her file. “I won’t ask you any more about it. We’ll leave you both to enjoy your day. I don’t want to drag up the past unnecessarily.”
Jill smiled. “Thank you for your time. It’s nice to talk about her sometimes.” She glanced at Judith’s folder. “If you update the case notes, could I have a copy? I sometimes need proof that Mum is missing when official letters arrive for her. In the year she reached retirement age, I had some problems with the people from the pensions office. She’s never been declared as dead, you see. And for a good reason.”
“Of course!” said Judith. “We’ll only be adding the fact that we’ve spoken to you again to the records, but we’ll hand deliver a copy to you when the sergeant you spoke to on the telephone has updated them.”
“Thank you,” said Jill. “I appreciate it.”
Millie drew to a halt at the entrance to her track leading to her cottage. She stared at the man standing in the road, who was ordering her to stop with an outstretched arm. “What does he think he’s doing?” she said.
“I’ll ask him,” said Judith, standing up. With no roof impeding her progress, Judith stood with both hands on the top of the windscreen and shouted at the man. “Oi!” she yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The man lifted the brim of his black baseball cap and levelled his sunglasses in Judith’s direction. “Nobody is allowed past this point,” he said.
“What do you mean?” said Millie. “I live in that cottage over there. In fact, I own all this land, all the way to the lighthouse! You’re standing on my land, trying to stop me entering my own property!”
The man approached the car, speaking into a radio as he walked. “The owner of the cottage is here,” he said. “She’s with somebody else. Should I let them through?”
“Yes, let them in,” came the crackling reply. “I’ll come and speak to them myself.”
Stepping aside, the man waved Millie through. “Sorry about that,” he said. “This area is off-limits to the public. A sergeant from the local police force cleared access for you and anybody accompanying you. A very nice sergeant. Very polite.”
“Where is my dad — I mean, where is Sergeant Spencer?” asked Judith, dropping back into her seat as Millie allowed the car to creep forward.
“He’s with my boss,” said the guard. “They’ll be along to speak to you right away. I’m just the guard. I don’t really know what’s going on, if I’m honest. I never do these days.”
Millie thanked the man with a smile, and drove slowly along the track. As she neared her cottage, a black van followed by Sergeant Spencer’s police car approached from the direction of the lighthouse, and parked on the patch of gravel next to Millie’s home.
Drawing her car alongside the two vehicles, Millie raised an eyebrow in Sergeant Spencer’s direction as he approached her. “What’s happening?” she said. “What are they doing on my property?”
Sergeant Spencer shook his head and gave a frustrated sigh. “Think of the most outrageous thing you could imagine happening on a normal Tuesday,” he said. “Then multiply it by ten. You still won’t be close to guessing what’s happening.” He headed towards the cottage door, pointing at the man climbing out of the black van. “Come on, let’s get inside. He’ll explain what’s happening. I don’t think I quite believe it.”
Chapter 6
Millie stared at the man standing in her living room. Dressed completely in black, he seemed a formidable presence, but Millie wasn’t about to feel intimidated in her own home. She pointed at the sofa. “Have a seat,” she said. “And you can remove your baseball cap and sunglasses if you like — there’s no sun in here, my roof does a good job of keeping it out.”
Sergeant Spencer coughed, the sound hiding his laughter, but unable to conceal the mirth his wide smile exposed. “It’s his uniform,” he explained. “He’s from a —”
“I’m quite capable of explaining who I am, and what organisation I represent, thank you, Sergeant,” said the man. He smiled at Millie and Judith. “I’m Mister Anon, which is a clever pseudonym, of course — I like to keep my real identity a secret. I have to keep it secret. I represent a group known as the Alien Search Syndicate and Hazard Alert Team.”
“Erm,” said Judith. “You’re from a group called ASSHAT?”
Mr Anon sighed. “You’re quick at working out acronyms. Very good. Most people don’t pick up on it. The group was named before I joined it. That mistake would have never slipped past me if I’d been in charge at the time.”
“You could change it?” said Millie.
“Too late,” said Mister Anon. “We’ve got headed paper, business cards — the works. We don’t have the funds to make such sweeping changes.”
“Funds?” said Millie. “Don’t you work for the government?”
“No,” said Mister Anon. “We’re a non-governmental organisation which specialises in the search for extra-terrestrial life. Extra-terrestrial life on this planet.”
“What an alien hunter is doing standing in my cottage, aside,” said Millie. “If you’re not from a governmental organisation — why on earth do you think you have the right to cordon off a huge chunk of the beach, and have a guard preventing people accessing my property?”
Sergeant Spencer stepped forward. “Because if we don’t allow them access, and the right to keep the beach cordoned off, they’ll call in the real authorities to look at the skeleton which Tom found,” he said. “And if that happens, this town will hit the headlines all over the world.” He raised an eyebrow in Millie’s direction. “And we don’t want that. Do we?”
Millie swallowed. The concealment spell was good, but could it disguise the paranormal inhabitants of Spellbinder Bay from the whole of the world’s press? She doubted it.
“No, you don’t,” said Mister Anon. “You’ll be flooded with tourists — and not the sort of tourists who will be a financial boom for the town, but the type whose own mothers would describe as a little eccentric, and possibly even dangerous if provoked.”
“But the real authorities were called,” said Millie. “Tom reported it to the museum, and a man came. I was there! He said the skeleton was probably an unknown dinosaur — a predator to be precise.”
Mister Anon smiled. “Luckily for the Alien Search Syndic—”
“Luckily for ASSHAT,” said Millie.
Mister Anon pursed his lips. “Luckily for our group,” he said, with a scowl, “the man who Tom Temples reported his find to, is a friend of mine, and when he saw what it was that Tom had dug up, he sent me an urgent message. I dropped what I was doing immediately and called the rest of the team right away.”
“Rest of the team?” said Judith. “How many of you are there?”
“It’s a small team,” said Mister Anon. “It’s really just me and Mister Incognito — the man who was guarding the entrance to the track.”
Judith giggled. “Another clever pseudonym?” she asked.
“Are you laughing at me?” spat Mister Anon, ripping off his glasses, to reveal piercing blue eyes. “You’d better not be! This is an important matter. There’s an alien skeleton laying in the sand in the dunes below this cottage, and you think this is an appropriate time to be ridiculing me and my organisation? Y
ou should be more concerned as to whether the dead alien was a random visitor to our planet, or a member of the first line of an outer space invasion force! And believe me, aliens won’t be coming here for our jobs or women, they’ll be coming to make humans extinct — so they can take over our planet!”
“What?” said Millie, raising an eyebrow in Sergeant Spencer’s direction. “You think the skeleton is an alien? Of course it’s not an alien! It’s a dinosaur.”
Mister Anon gazed upward as Reuben fluttered in through the open roof window and landed on Millie’s shoulder. “That’s your bird, is it? It’s been circling us since we got here. It even tried to get into the tent I’ve erected over the site of the alien’s remains.”
“It likes people,” said Millie. “He’s friendly, that’s all. I wish you would stop referring to the skeleton as an alien, though. That’s quite a claim to make. It’s a dinosaur. We’re on the Jurassic Coast!”
“When you saw it, Miss Thorn,” said Mister Anon. “It was barely visible. You probably saw an eye socket and a few teeth, but since we’ve excavated it further, it looks nothing like a dinosaur!”
“I must say,” said Sergeant Spencer. “It does look a little strange. Like the skull of the Cheshire Cat placed on the body of a meerkat. Very creepy.”
Mister Anon withdrew his phone from his pocket. “Here,” he said, turning the screen towards Millie. “Does that look like a dinosaur to you?”
The screech which Reuben emitted sent shockwaves through Millie’s skull, and she put a hand to her ear in an attempt to stop the high-pitched ringing reverberating in her head. The cockatiel screeched again, and launched himself from Millie’s shoulder, flying in frantic circles around the room, before zooming through the open roof window.
“What’s wrong with him?” said Mister Anon.
“I’m not sure,” said Millie, studying the photo on Mister Anon’s phone. “Maybe it was the picture that scared him. It does look a little…. freaky. I saw the top of the spine when Tom and I dug out the hole, but I had no idea it would be so short.”