The Frog's Pad Collection Read online

The Frog’s Pad Collection

  By David Grewcock

  The Frog’s Pad Collection

  David Grewcock

  Copyright 2010 by David Grewcock

  About this collection

  I think we can all be inspired from a variety of sources and ideas; this small collection of short stories I think is a good example of that. It may be a view, a situation or a conversation.

  I hope you enjoy this collection. The last two stories are the first chapters from my “Black Crane” novels.

  Contents

  Rowan

  Mermaid’s Song

  Generation Zero

  The Tomb of Tut-Ankh-Ra

  Holly

  Willow

  The Walnut Box

  Colin the Rabbit

  The Floods of London (Chapter 1)

  The Navigation Watch (Chapter 1)

  Rowan

  The question in this story is one of free will; if you know that your life is dependent upon you living someone else’s life to enable you to exist – what would you do?

  “Circus, here next week”.

  The poster, hurriedly stuck to a piece of cardboard and hung round the traffic light already looked as if it had been there for months, but Rowan noted it had only appeared overnight. Rowan continued her daily walk, passing the field where the circus traditionally set up. The field, normally left fallow, already looked empty as if it was waiting for the magic to appear.

  Later that evening, Rowan sat in the pub as the youth group leaders discussed how the evening had gone. The usual discussions about the same young people and their various behavioural problems – and who should take the responsibility for dealing with it. Rowan listened distractedly – frustrated that everyone was prepared to point the finger, but not to actually deal with the issues. During the lull in the conversations, Rowan took the opportunity to tell the team about the circus – and whether it was something that the youth group would enjoy going to. The response was apathetic, so Rowan quietly withdrew once more to staring at her glass. If James had thought of it, she mused to herself, everyone would have jumped to it – but I’ll go along anyway without them.

  A week passed – and the poster hung limply to the traffic light; already the faded, peeling poster was clinging to the sodden cardboard, depending upon its support and existence. The effect of the poster brought a dark mystery to the circus, shading to the smiling circus clown of dark intention. Now, Rowan noted, the field was occupied by the traditional striped canvas of the Big Top. Although clean, the ambience was of the theatre in the day time – the mystery that comes alive in the dancing beams of the spotlights revealed to be the old, battered and used props of constant touring and production.

  Outside of the Big top a few fairground rides were also being set up, the red and yellow paint, so gaily decorating the woodwork when it was originally commissioned now looked like the big tent – a mother and her children, a travelling family with the other members of the circus.

  Rowan decided to go that evening. It was a night out and apart from the cats for company she didn’t have many friends that she could call upon. Nobody phoned her to invite her out and sometimes the darkness of her life overwhelmed her, but most times she just took life as it came to her – and that was just fine.

  As she walked onto the field she recognised that with darkness now descended the bright beams of the spotlights and the coloured lights that surrounded the attractions changed the scene to something warm, magical and timeless. Shadows played upon the corners of the Big Top, encouraged by the entertainers as they strolled around on stilts or juggled various batons, clubs and knives. As approached the tent she could hear the music and the Ringmaster calling everyone to take their seats.

  Rowan walked towards the door and was about to pay for her tickets when to the left a cloaked figure spoke to her…

  “Rowan – come with me”.

  Rowan stopped and looked at the figure – there was no-one in her friends who would have a cloak like that she thought, but she couldn’t see the face of the person.

  “Rowan – come with me”.

  This had to be a practical joke and Rowan turned back to the door, when the hooded figure reached out and caught her arm. Although Rowan could see the hand was old and wrinkled, it gripped with an intensity that was a little alarming.

  “Rowan. Come with me. Now.”

  The cloaked figure started to pull at her arm. Rowan’s mind was in confusion – she wanted to see the circus, but at the same time was a little curious as to how this person knew her. She asked the figure “Can it wait? I want to see the circus”.

  “Rowan. Come with me now. You will see the circus – but not just yet. I want to show you something.”

  Rowan decided that if she missed a few minutes of the circus it wouldn’t be the end of the world although she did wonder what she would miss by skipping the welcome and the first act on the bill.

  The cloaked person guided Rowan to a small tent – about 3m tall and circular, not unlike the shape of the Big Top thought Rowan. Inside were two wooden chairs and a card table with a purple velvet cloth laid across it. On the cloth, a set of tarot cards were arranged in a pattern that Rowan wasn’t familiar with at all. The cloaked person drew back her hood, revealing herself to be an old woman, although not frail for her wrinkles and someone with an air that had been with the troop for many years and had always pitched in to get the site set up. Her hair was thin and obviously greying, but with yellowing streaks as if she had attempted to colour it herself.

  “Sit, Rowan.”

  The old woman beckoned to the empty chair as she sat in the other. The old woman looked at Rowan with dark, burning eyes. Rowan felt uncomfortable as it felt as if she was looking deep into her soul.

  “You want to tell me something?” asked Rowan “Let’s start with the easy one – how did you know my name?”

  The old woman smiled. She slowly leant down to her left and opening a carpet bag, pulled out an envelope and placed it on the table on top of the cards. Rowan looked at the envelope.

  Almost in keeping with the general décor of the circus, it too was yellowing at the edges and was clearly an old envelope. The words written on the front of the envelope were written in italics, a browning ink which looked like an old quill pen has scratched each letter onto the envelope.

  “Rowan, 26th August 2010” it said on the outside. Neat trick, thought Rowan, putting my name and today’s date on it.

  “Open it” said the old lady.

  Rowan turned the envelope over and noted that it had been closed with a red sealing wax. She didn’t recognise the stamp – a five pointed star with the initials RJC visible. With a slight pressure, the envelope opened. Rowan drew the letter out from the envelope and opened it – there were two sheets of paper, folded together – the markings on the fold lines further highlighted the age of the letter – although she knew that prop departments were getting good at making things look old. But something made her stop – the handwriting of the letter looked so familiar. She looked at the old lady, who sat still, staring at Rowan, a faint smile on her lips.

  “31st August 1959

  Rowan,

  This may be one of the most confusing letters you will ever read, but the lady that is sat in front of you is your mother.”

  Rowan stopped at this first part and looked at the old woman. No – she had never met her mother; she knew she had been adopted from an early age, but this didn’t make sense.

  “Carry on reading Rowan” said the old woman, her eyes sparkling slightly as tears started to well gently in her eyes. Rowan looked back down at the letter.

  “What you will n
ow read is something that may confuse you, so I apologise to you if it seems confusing. I was born in 1935 and in 1950 I started on a courtship with a local man, Thomas Crabtree. He had lived in this village as long as I had and with only one school we had grown up being close friends. He had recently been discharged from the army and we had started to work in the local shop. Living together so closely and having so much in common in a small village meant – almost inevitably I suppose – that we would end up together.

  “In August 1956 Thomas took me to the circus – this circus. Amongst the lights and the excitement of the fair, he proposed to me and I agreed. It was the happiest day of my life. I just never wanted the day to end. We married six months later and then a year later we had a baby girl, and we named her Rowan. Living in a little village with my childhood sweetheart, a good job and a beautiful baby was all I could ask for – my life was complete.

  “However, life has a way of making things complicated and at Christmas Eve 1958 Thomas took his regular delivery of shopping to the local residents who were unable to get out of their houses. It was a job that Thomas would always do – no matter how bad the weather he would always make sure that the elderly residents of the village had a stock of food and would spend a few minutes with each to make sure that they were warm and happy. This day though Thomas’ car hit a patch of black ice and spun into a tree. He was killed instantly.

  “My life was suddenly plunged into difficulties. Without Thomas I could not support myself and a young child, having to work all day just to make ends meet – and the income was just about enough when we both worked. With all these worries, my health deteriorated and it was decided for me that I could not look after my child, so it was taken from me.

  “My only source of happiness was to go back to the circus and remember the magic of 1956 when Thomas proposed to me. One of the entertainers at the Circus went by the name of Madame Zara, a tarot reader who could foretell the future. After my child had been taken from me, I decided to visit her tent to see if she could tell me if this nightmare that was my life would end. What she told me just confused me, which is why I am writing this to you now.

  “What she has said is that she could teach me how I can always go back to the happy days of August 1956 with Thomas. I want that more than ever – such happiness from this life of despair – and I have agreed. Madame Zara has instructed me to write this letter, word for word, to you. “Whilst I don’t understand why I am doing this, part of me is hopeful and at peace that you are reading this.

  With love,

  Rowan Crabtree”

  Rowan looked up at the old woman, whose tears were now flowing fully and completely. The old woman pulled a silk handkerchief from her cloak and dabbed at her eyes,

  “Read the second piece of paper” she said quietly. Rowan put the second piece of paper on top, the handwriting was similar, but with a few small changes in the general style.

  “31st August 1959

  Rowan

  Many years have now passed although chronologically time has stood still. The lady sat in front of you is your mother and she has passed this letter to you as I did to her.

  When you step out from this tent, you will meet Thomas Crabtree back in August 1956 and he will propose to you. If you accept his proposal, you will experience the happiest time of your life and the greatest despair. You will name your child Rowan and she will be taken from you.

  “Once this happens, open the envelope that you are about to be given, where you will learn the craft of Tarot reader and the next steps that you will need to take. Your own child will visit the circus on the 26th August 2010 and you will meet her as I met my own daughter.

  I wish you the greatest happiness in the world.

  With love,

  Rowan Crabtree”

  With trembling hands, Rowan put the envelope and the sheets of the paper on the table. The old lady was holding another envelope, much older and with much thicker parchment paper in its construction. Rowan gently took the envelope and started to open the envelope.

  “No” said the old woman. “Open it when the time is right. Keep it safe for now. It is truly wonderful to see you again Rowan – look after Thomas for me”

  The old lady then sat up straight in the chair, pulled the hood over her head and her head nodded forward.

  Rowan made a move forward – but something seemed peculiar. Was the old woman asleep? It seemed too inconsiderate to find out, and so quietly Rowan pushed her chair back and stood up. With a long look behind her, she stepped out from the tent.

  “Rowan! Where have you been my love? I’ve been looking all over for you – you’ve got to come and see this, they’ve got a shooting gallery!”

  An excitable young man, about Rowan’s age, immediately latched onto her arm, and full of smiles and urgency led her away from the tent towards the shooting range.

  “I’ve had a go already Rowan” the man continued “and could you believe it; I, Thomas Crabtree, now have the top score of the day! I’ll win you that Teddy Bear!”

  Rowan looked round as Thomas pulled her towards the shooting range. The Big Top, the various rides were all so sparkly and new, nothing was faded, nothing was old – except… that was it; nothing was old – everything was so new and clean. Rowan looked to the road – to see that it was an old country lane.

  “Thomas, what is today?”

  “Oh Rowan, you’re so silly – it’s 26th August 1956. Now come on, I’ve something to show you…”

  OO - - OO

  Mermaid’s Song

  There are many tales and stories of sailors being shipwrecked as they have sailed towards the rocks and cliffs, apparently guided to their deaths by the haunting melody of the mermaid. So what would happen if a Mermaid was caught – and brought to an aquarium?

  Pete stood dumbfounded, staring at the glass.

  “Pete – put the magazine down, we’ve got a new delivery!”

  Pete sighed, closed his magazine and allowed the front legs of the chair to come back down to the ground. He looked at the coffee mug on the desk and after casually tossing the magazine onto his paper strewn desk, picked up the mug and drank the last remnants. With another sigh, he stood up and walked out of the small office and into the main aquarium hall.

  Pete could see the large lorry carefully reversing up to the loading tank. It stopped and the driver rolled up the back entrance. The aquarium team then carefully brought up a rolling ramp to the rear of the lorry and hitched it onto the back. They then disappeared into the van, before a large acrylic box was carefully, slowly pushed out of the van and onto the ramp. The box rolled slowly, carefully down the ramp until it passed the end and the plastic touched the water of the holding tank. The box then continued to descend at a steeper angle until it was fully submerged into the holding tank. The team looked at Pete, who nodded at the team. One threw a switch on the back of the lorry and the winch started to draw the tank back in. It never stopped looking impressive how this aquarium got its deliveries; the contents (now discharged into the holding tank) were always invisible until the team worked through making sure each fish, octopus, ray, squid – whatever – were healthy. The box was finally replaced inside the lorry and the driver rolled the back door down. The lorry started up and the driver headed off. By the holding tank, the aquarium team had rolled the ramp back and with smiles and back slaps were starting to plan their evening. A couple of the team were already pulling their jackets on and talking about heading to the Dog and Duck.

  “So Pete, being a key member of all that down there – you joining them at the pub?” Bob smiled at Pete and Pete smiled back. Both knew that Pete had to be up here – after the incident last year the aquarium had insisted that the onsite manager oversaw operations from a distance that would allow them to spot any problems from a higher vantage point.

  “No, I think I’ll miss it this time – I’ll complete the delivery paperwork then head home. Julie said she
would be dropping by later to pick up the last of her things; I’ll be glad when those last boxes are out of the flat, so I really don’t want to have to reschedule!”

  Bob laughed and with a nod, walked to the metal staircase. “Wait for me!” he shouted to the last of the team as they started to leave the aquarium. Pete turned and re-entered the office, picked up his magazine and flicked through to the last article he was reading. He’d finish the paperwork in a moment.

 

  About twenty minutes later, Pete stared at the computer screen, completing the first stage of the delivery return. He hesitated, as from the outside the office he could hear singing – nothing he’d ever heard before, but somehow deeply mesmerising and sad. He thought that someone might have left a radio on, so he stepped outside. The sounds stopped. Pete stood in the doorway, not moving – suddenly it started again, from the direction of the first holding tank. He walked down the metal steps from his office and onto the main floor of the aquarium – the sounds getting louder and clearer until he was at the glass of the holding tank. Although the lighting was poor, Pete could see about 200 fish swimming around the holding tank, all of various shapes and sizes… when suddenly there was a shimmering flash of a colour and size Pete had never seen before. He peered more closely, interested to get another glimpse of this unusual fish (Pete had always prided himself on being able to identify fish faster than anyone else in the aquarium). As he stared deep into the water, the luminescent flash of colour past by again. Pete smiled – this fish was playing a game!