by David Munro
“What was her name?”
“Diana Bray.”
Julie sat back.
“Do you know her?”
“I know of her.”
That’s the second time I’ve heard this phrase in as many days.
“She became involved with a local politician, and I believe they’ve now parted.”
At Minosas, Diana mentioned a politician.
“When Diana met him, he was married.”
“Was she aware of this?”
“Oh, yes.” Julie nodded. “Diana Bray and the politician’s wife had been best friends for many years.”
My goodness.
“After Diana got what she wanted, the relationship ended.”
I looked at Julie.
“Being a politician, he had influence on the Jersey Licensing Board. One hotel in St Helier had been due to lose its license, however, the decision was reversed.”
“A hotel Diana represented?”
Julie nodded.
“And the politician?”
“I heard he tried to save the marriage, but his wife told him to sod off!”
I laughed.
“Quite right, too.” Julie smiled. “Got what he deserved.”
No doubt.
Julie frowned. “April and I believe the woman who worked here, had been planted by Diana to cause problems.”
“Problems?”
“Deter people from staying.”
As Detective Albright stated.
“When a person called to enquire about accommodation, April discovered they had been told someone would call them back.”
“I take it that nobody did.”
“Correct.”
“How did April find out?”
“She took a call enquiring why nobody from the guest house had called back, and when it happened again, she confronted the woman.”
“And?”
“The woman pleaded her innocence. Next day she didn’t turn up.”
“A plant.”
“Devised by Diana Bray.”
“Is the accommodation sector that cut-throat?”
“Oh yes, I could reveal more, but it’s too early.”
I looked at my watch.
“Any plans for today?”
“I’ll visit April, then head into the town centre for a look round.”
“The festivities for Halloween will be underway, therefore, don’t be alarmed by people dressed as a ghoul, ghost or witch.”
“In the morning?”
“Three days prior to Halloween, wearing a costume in the city centre is common place, it’s a tradition which dates back to the Millennium.”
I lifted my cup, and took a sip.
“Do you believe in spirits?”
“No, only time travellers.”
Julie smiled. “I’ve heard of people seeing a ghost, but no time traveller.”
There’s always a first time.”
Julie laughed, then lifted a tray. “There is something else about Diana Bray.”
I set my cup on the saucer.
“She organises fund-raising events for the Channel Island’s handicapped children to visit Euro-Disney in Paris.”
I raised my eyebrows. Admirable.
As Julie took a tray of dishes and crockery into the kitchen, I went up to my room, and made ready for my hospital visit.
Fifteen minutes later, I left the guest house, and walked to the hospital. Although it was late October, the climate in this southerly part of Britain remained mild, thus, my jacket will be sufficient for now. Then, dark clouds and rain replaced a crisp sunny morning. My steps got quicker, and I managed to reach the hospital entrance without getting soaked. Walking to April’s ward, I spotted the nurse from my previous visit, and she approached with a solemn expression. “I am afraid you cannot visit April today, sir.”
“Why not?”
“She had a rough night, and is now fast asleep.”
“Can I come back tomorrow?”
“It would be advisable to call the hospital tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll do that.”
I retraced my steps to the exit, and was relieved that the rain had stopped, although I could smell it. Feeling colder, once more, I quickened my step towards St Helier’s city centre, and a warm drink.
Puffing and panting, I arrived at the coffee shop, and upon entering, warm air hit me. Not long after I took a seat, the same shop assistant appeared. “Hello, again.”
“A white coffee, please.”
“Be right back.”
After she left, I noticed a leaflet on the next table, and stretched across. It advertised a Halloween dance at Minosas this coming Friday evening, and emphasised a late license until 1.30am. The assistant returned with my cup of coffee, laid it on the table and glanced at the leaflet. “Will you go on Friday?”
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s the latest I’ve known for a drinks extension in Jersey.”
“The bar owner must have a good friend on the Licensing Board.”
The assistant smiled, then departed.
I took a sip of the piping hot coffee and then set my cup on the saucer. An approaching car’s roar disturbed the street’s peaceful atmosphere and a black convertible sped past. Seconds later, the assistant returned with a plate of bourbon biscuits. “On the house.”
“Thanks.” I smiled.
She looked towards the window. “She’s been caught twice for speeding, and got off on both occasions.”
“Lucky her.”
“It’s not luck.” The assistant departed.
On Thursday morning I called the hospital, and since April’s condition had improved, I could pay her a visit. On this occasion, I bought flowers at a recently opened florist beside the hospital.
When I arrived at April’s private ward, she was sitting up awaiting my arrival. “I thought it was you.”
“How?”
“By your footsteps.”
Her hearing is not impaired.
“I can smell flowers!” April sniffed. “A sweet scent.”
I moved closer.
She gently touched them. “Tulips.”
“Pink ones.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
With perfect timing, a nurse appeared and noticed the bouquet of flowers, smiled at April, then me. “Would you like me to put them in water?”
I nodded. “Please.”
Moments later, she returned with a glass vase, took the flowers, and laid the vase on a table near April’s bed. “Perfect,” said the nurse as she smiled and then left.
“Have a seat, James.”
I sat on the chair close to April’s bed.
“Are you enjoying your stay at the guest house?”
I nodded.
“You don’t like it?”
Dash! April can’t see me clearly. “Yes.”
“Good.”
“Last night I slept like a log.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Also, the food is excellent – especially the cooked breakfast.”
“Oh?”
“I never have a cooked breakfast.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t cook.”
April laughed. “You will appreciate Julie, she’s an excellent cook.”
“If business at the guest house improves, Julie’s cooking would entice customers to return.”
“I’m certain of it, however, enticing people to book is the problem.”
True.
April paused, then stared in my direction. “As you were a friend of my mother, did you meet my father?”
I had a suspicion this question would come my way.
“You didn’t meet him?”
“Only on a couple of occasions.”
“What was he like?”
“About my height, 5ft 10, and of medium build.”
“That’s not what I meant, James, what was he like as a person?”
“H
e was fond of your mother and spoke about her a lot. He cared for things which meant a lot to him.” I smiled. “He was hard to please, at times.”
“Then why did he suddenly leave my mother?”
“Perhaps he could not prevent it.”
“Prevent it!”
“I’m unsure as to why he left, there must have been a valid reason.” This is complicated.
April’s voice grew raspy. “Not once did he get in touch.” She wiped a tear from her eye.
I feel terrible.
She coughed repeatedly.
“Would you like a glass of water?”
She nodded.
I rose, and poured water from a jug on the bedside table into a glass. Handing it to her, she took several sips, and gave the glass back to me.
“I don’t feel well.”
I placed the glass on the bedside table, went into the corridor, and spotted a nurse. When I raised my arm, she looked my way and then approached.
“Is it April?”
“Yes.”
I followed her into the ward, she examined April, then looked at me with a sad expression.
I whispered, “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
The nurse nodded.
Leaving the hospital, I was at loggerheads with myself. A shift in time during the summer of 1967 had caused heartache for two loving individuals, but in my defence, I couldn’t prevent it.
Solemn-faced, I walked back to the town centre, and for a distraction, browsed around an array of shops. I came across a male boutique with suits, shirts and ties displayed in the large front window. After entering, bright ceiling spotlights caught my eye, as well as the male sales assistant reading a book behind the counter.
He looked up. “Hello, can I help you, sir?” He put his book under the counter.
“Just in to have a look around.”
“No problem, if you need assistance, let me know.”
“Thanks.”
“Your welcome.”
Coming across a pale blue shirt, which would match my jacket, I glanced at the price tag, and shook my head. I noticed price tags for suits were not displayed, and perhaps an indication of their value. Before leaving, I acknowledged the sales assistant and he put down his book. “Since we’re introducing new stock for Christmas, there’s a sale on next week.”
With my current financial restraints, the sale price may also be out of reach. “I may come back.”
“See you next week, sir.”
I doubt it.
“Bye.” The sales assistant returned to his book.
I departed the boutique, which went by the name of Beau Brummel, and walked back to the guest house. With the attire I have at my disposal, it will suffice for tomorrow evening’s Halloween event. How I miss my previous timeline of 1930 and its price tags.
On the final evening of my stay, I ventured to Minosas, for their publicised Halloween event. When I arrived, a queue had formed, which stretched for thirty yards. With my conventional dark jacket and trousers, plus, a casual shirt, I stood out from locals wearing an assortment of costumes. A pirate, witch and skeleton queued in front of me, however, I didn’t spot a coachman. As the queue moved forward, I could see two tall doormen in black formal suits and bow-ties. When I approached, both surveyed my inappropriate Halloween appearance.
“The costume did not arrive in time.”
“Pity you aren’t a time traveller!” said the broadest steward, “you could have gone back in time and ordered it earlier.”
“I’m off duty.”
His colleague laughed. “Have a good evening, sir.”
After entering, I faced a woman dressed in a red with horns sticking out of her head sitting behind a desk. “£8, please.”
£8 to enter a bar! If I argue, she may blow fire in my direction. I handed her eight £1 coins.
“Thanks.” She put them in a large metal box, and handed me a ticket. “Have a good evening, sir.”
I took the ticket. Here’s hoping.
She smiled. What a square.
I manoeuvred through a packed floor to eventually reach the bar, where staff dressed for the occasion. The two male members had black pointed wizard hats, whilst both female members had decided on wide brimmed witches headwear. I will wager the males have conjured up scary drink prices. After ten patient minutes, a witch came forward. “Yes, sir?”
“A lager, please.”
She poured into a shiny glass, and set it in front of me. “£7, please.”
I handed the witch a £10 note.
She took it, gave me three coins and stared.
Moving away from the bar, a man wearing a formal suit brushed past me, and walked on. I recognised him as the person Diana Bray introduced me to on a previous visit. This time he appears the worse for wear. With the ‘Monster Mash’ by Bobby ‘Boris’ Picket playing, I looked around the vicinity. The majority of entrants wore costumes, plus make-up to enhance their disguise. A distinctive bronzed Roman Centurion stood drinking a pint of beer with a woman dressed as a yellow and black pumpkin. As she finished her glass of red wine, a passing waitress with jet-black hair in a vampire outfit took it. A werewolf put his empty pint glass on her silver tray, and in return, she gave him a polite smile through prominent blood-red lips. A person, who resembled an extra-terrestrial, edged past me and stared.
“Which planet are you from?” I said.
“Originally, Glasgow,” said a male voice, “what about you?”
“Edinburgh.”
“Then you are also an alien!” He departed.
Smiling, I sipped my drink, and a woman with blonde hair dressed as a Greek goddess approached. I recognised her as one of the staff at my previous hotel accommodation.
“Hello, I’m looking for Zeus.”
“He’s with Poseidon in the upstairs lounge.”
She laughed.
“They were having a heated discussion.”
“Poseidon could receive a nasty thunderbolt!”
I laughed. “Are you Aphrodite?”
“No, I’m Gemma.”
I grinned.
She looked towards the bar. “I’ve spotted my friend, see you later.”
The goddess departed and walked up to a woman dressed as Medusa. No moving snakes on her headwear, however, a terrific imitation. Amidst all those costumes, don’t I feel like a party-pooper. I finished my lager, and with ‘Ghostbusters’ playing loudly, struggled back to the bar. The four bar staff served customers in a frantic manner, with one male wiping his brow. I could smell a pleasant jasmine fragrance, and glanced sideways.
“Meow.”
Catwoman! “I don’t speak your language.”
“If you did, it could be to your advantage.” She licked her lips.
I laughed.
“You’re Scottish?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I trust you haven’t come all this way just for the Halloween event?”
I shook my head. “To visit someone, I leave tomorrow.”
She smiled. “I’m not into one-night stands.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Nor me.”
“Then you won’t fit in around here.”
No comment.
“My name is Caitlin.” She held out her black leather glove.
I shook it.
“Did your outfit not arrive in time?”
I shook my head.
“What were you coming as?”
“A time traveller.”
“What is it you do?”
“A business professional trying to become a writer.”
“Me too! How many words have you written?”
“About a hundred.”
Catwoman smiled. “I have written one hundred thousand.
A female bar person approached. “Yes, madam?”
“Two vodka and lemonades, please.”
The bar person removed her witch’s hat, put it behind the counter and then poured two drinks.
“How much?”
“�
�14.60.”
Catwoman handed over two notes. “Keep the change.” She leaned towards me. “That barmaid should have dressed up as the ‘Joker’ tonight, these prices are a scream!”
As she left, I waited patiently for service. Due to being worked off their feet, all bar staff had discarded headwear. I caught one’s eye.
“A lager, please.”
“Is that all?”
I nodded.
“Coming up.”
A minute later, the bar person came back with an expression of sympathy. “The lager barrel is being changed, you’ll have to wait.”
“How long?”
“It would be quicker going to the upstairs bar.”
Whilst leaving the bar, I spotted Diana with a group of people laughing and drinking. Losing her balance, she bumped into a ghoul, and drink splashed onto him resulting in a shake of the head. As I walked upstairs, the Righteous Brothers rendition of ‘Ghost’ echoed. In a corner of the bar, I observed the person who had earlier brushed against me having a heated discussion with another man. I ordered a lager, and waited. When both men’s voices grew louder, customers stopped talking, and one man stormed off. Moments later, music began playing and conversations resumed. Then, he reappeared with a grim expression, approached the other man, and pulled out a gun from his jacket pocket. As a woman screamed, two shots were fired, and the victim slumped onto the floor. Whilst everyone stared in disbelief, the shooter ran off. A woman at the bar shouted. “Someone call an ambulance.”
The bar person picked up a handset, and as he spoke, the woman attended to the victim.
“She’s a doctor,” said a man next to me.
Two stewards rushed into the bar, and stared at the wounded individual whose blood seeped through his suit. A steward spoke to the bar person, who then ushered customers down the staircase.
Within minutes, an ambulance crew arrived, and soon left with the wounded man. Police officers also appeared, and took statements from witnesses. The scary event had a gruesome finale.
As evening became morning, subdued partygoers departed the establishment. I spotted Diana Bray in the foyer with two police officers, and going by her body language, the conversation wasn’t cordial. A woman who stood beside me looking on remarked. “She’s done it this time!”
I walked back to the guest house with the recent shooting fresh in my mind. As I shivered, was it because of the incident or chilly November? Whatever, my pace quickened.