Friday, 22 December 2017

The Bangkok Bash

Robin Wrigley

mulled wine


 ‘Patpong Road Mr Gary or straight home?’ My driver Noi seemed to know my habits better than me these days.
     ‘No, thanks, Noi. I reckon I’ve had enough for one night. Straight home and put your foot down.’ Normally I would have gone down to Patpong to one of the many bars there.
     But it was December the 23rd and the night of our staff Christmas party at the Australian Embassy. The Poms pride themselves on being able to do the pageantry bit but I reckon we put on the best Christmas bash amongst the embassies here. You would think the Yanks would outdo us, but they had become a bit too nervous about recent terrorist scares to put on too big a splash or invite outsiders.
     Noi pulled out into the usual busy, night-time traffic and I prepared myself for a little snooze on the way home. I lived a fair way up Sukumvit Road, not far as the crow flies, but at least half an hour in this traffic.
     ‘Good party Mr Gary? Noi asked into his rear-view mirror.
     ‘Sure was, Noi. That’s why I think it would be better to go straight home as I expect Lek will be more than a little pissed off that I’m this late, especially as she didn’t come to the party.’
     Lek was my regular girlfriend. We had been going steady for a while now. She worked in the Central Department Store; we met one Saturday when I was shopping there. She was a super girl but a bit out of her depth when it came to social occasions at the embassy. For that reason I decided to go on my own, which didn’t go down too well.
     I flopped back into the air-conditioned comfort of the car and looked out of the side window. The next thing I knew Noi was tapping me on the arm.
     ‘Jesus, what time is it? I must have died.’
     ‘It’s two-thirty, Mr Gary, traffic was okay tonight, only take bit over half an hour.’
       The house was in complete darkness which was very odd seeing as Lek was staying over and if for some reason she wasn’t, the maid would have left the outside lights on before she left.
     ‘Must be a power failure?’
     ‘No sir,’ Noi said, ‘Look, house next door still got lights on.’
     He was right, their lights were on alright but my compound was in complete darkness.
     I’d just got out of the car and trying to adjust my vision when all of a sudden a figure loomed out of the shadows gabbling on in Thai. To my relief it was only the watchman.
     ‘Jesus, Suporn, you scared the shit out of me!  What the bloody hell are you doing skulking about in the shadows, and why are the lights off?’ These conversations happen regularly which was totally stupid on my part as neither of us understood a word spoken between us. It required Noi to take on the role of translator as well as diplomat to calm me down as my temper got the better of me.
          ‘He say sorry, Mr Gary, he doesn’t know why there’s no lights. Maybe Miss Lek turned them off by mistake. He also say he sorry he frightened you but batteries in his flashlight have finished. He say he told you yesterday.’
     ‘Alright, alright, I’ll sort it out. You bugger off home, Noi. Come back at ten, I want to do a bit of shopping as I think some extra Christmas presents might be needed.’
     ‘Okay, sir, goodnight,’ with that he was off.
     Gingerly I felt my way along the path from the drive to the front door. My eyes had adjusted themselves a little by now as I reached the front door, felt for the keyhole and unlocked it.
     I quietly stepped inside and shut the door behind me. Once inside it seemed even darker and I cursed as I banged my shin on something heavy as I struggled to find the light switch. Recovering my balance I found them and turned them on, then as I bent down to take my shoes off, a figure leapt out of the shadow of the book case and jumped on me. For the second time in a matter of minutes I was scared out of wits until I realised from the perfume, that it was Lek.
     ‘What the bloody hell are you doing you silly cow?’
     I did my best to shake her off but it is very difficult to defend oneself without hurting her consequently she scratched my right cheek before I could grab her wrists
     ‘You are bad, bad man Gary,’ she screamed in my ear as the pair of us fell to the floor. ‘Why you leave me at home? Are you ashamed of me? What have I done? Have you been with some bar girl? My momma say you are butterfly.’
     She was completely hysterical; I’d never seen her like this before.
     ‘Look, I’ll let you go if you can just control yourself,’ I yelled. By now I was on my knees holding her by the wrists, she was half lying in front of me.
      I started to get up and let go of her but she renewed her attack and flew at me again. Dodging her flailing hands, I grappled her to the ground again. I could taste the blood trickling down my cheek. With the shock and the amount of Christmas grog inside me, I was close to throwing up and would if this went on much longer.
     Through the fog of alcohol I had an inspiration. God knows why I suddenly thought of it. When I was a kid visiting my granddad’s farm, his old cockerel attacked me. The second time it happened, granddad was watching and he simply grabbed it by the legs, whirled it round and round above his head and tossed it into the corner of the yard. The bird tried to stand up but fell over twice before it made off looking very sorry for itself.
     ‘That’s how you deal with a stroppy chook, young feller, and works every time.’ I never forgot the lesson.
     That’s what I needed to do to calm Lek down. I grabbed her ankles, got to my feet and started to whirl her around. This’ll do the trick if nothing does.
     ‘Garree….’ she screamed, ‘Put me down please.’
     But I kept on spinning, just like granddad did with the cockerel. On about the second rotation I got a bit giddy and almost dropped her and then there was a sickening thud. Her head must have banged against the heavy book case. The pair of us crashed to the floor again.
     ‘Oh Jesus! I’ve killed her, I’ve bloody killed her.’
     She just lay there completely lifeless. There was a cut on her forehead and a trickle of blood was oozing from it. I could see tomorrow’s headlines in the Bangkok Post – ‘Australian diplomat kills Thai beauty.’ This could be the end of my bloody career. Everything I’d worked for. It would be the worst scandal the embassy had ever faced. I’d be lucky if they gave me life. More likely, it would be execution by firing squad.
     What a stupid, stupid bastard, what have I done? In an attempt to calm myself I tried to think as rationally as possible what to do next. I need to get her out of here and quick.  I straightened out the rug that had become rucked up, dragged her by the ankles alongside it and rolled her up in it.
     Now to get her to the car and dump her somewhere, my mind was racing. Of course that silly bugger Suporn will be hanging around out there, just when I don’t want him to be. I’ll need to get rid of him while I put her in the boot.
     I opened the door and went outside, closing it behind me.
     ‘Suporn,’ I yelled into the yard and he appeared out of the shadows but this time I was prepared and the outside lights were on anyway. I gave him a thousand Baht note and ordered, ‘Beer Singha, Beer Singha, nung carton.’ I made the shape of a box with my arms.
      He looked at me as though I was mad. He had undertaken this simple task many times before, but perhaps never at three in the morning.
     ‘Go on you dopey sod, get me beer.’ He took the money and headed for the gates. Once he was gone I quickly opened the boot of the car. Thank God, it was empty, need to move fast.
     I rushed back into the house and with a supreme effort hoisted the wrapped-up body over my shoulder. Thank goodness Thais are so light. I couldn’t imagine being able to do this with one of the Sheila’s back home. I staggered through the front door, put the bundle into the boot and closed the lid.
     I leaned against the side of the car to catch my breath. I looked in the glove compartment for the car keys where Noi always left them, no sooner had I found them bloody Suporn was back lugging a case of beer and a grin on his face like a fox eating chicken guts in long grass. 
I couldn’t believe it. If I’d been dying for a beer he would have been gone for hours. I just stood staring at him. He motioned with his chin, should he carry the beer into the house. I shook my head. He mustn’t see the mess inside. Because I didn’t want the beer in the house he supposed I wanted it in the car and started moving towards the boot. I overtook him and tried to wrestle the case from him, but the stupid sod resisted in some dumb servile desire to complete his task.
     While all this was going on I felt I was within a hair’s breadth of heart failure or throwing up, or both. Then a dull thudding sound came from the boot of the car, followed by Lek’s muffled cries, clearly audible in the still of the night.
     ‘Help! Help! Someone help, please.’

      We were married three weeks later in a church in Convent Road. My parents and sister came up from Brisbane and the whole embassy turned out. We would have got married on New Year’s Day but we had to wait until the bruise on Lek’s forehead faded a bit.

Thursday, 21 December 2017

Let them eat cake!



Gill James

sour grape juice

"What are the causes, would you say, Prime Minister, for the disturbing rise in the unemployment figures this quarter?"
"Well, if I may, I'd like to draw your attention to the bigger picture. Employment has risen overall by 35% if we look at the statistics for the whole year. "
"35% of what, though, Prime Minister?"
"35% more people have been employed this year compared with the previous year."
"Yes, but what percentage of the population is currently employed?"
"48%"
"And that's something to be proud of, Prime Minister? What was it last quarter?"
"52%."
"And a year ago?"
"50%."
"So it's gone down overall?" 
"Yes, but you must realise that two months ago we had 70% of the population in employment and the month before that 80%."
"Is even 80% acceptable? What do the other 20% do?"
"Well we have a benefits system."
"Which your government has cut right back.  And even if it hadn't how can you cater for 50% of the population?"
The Prime Minister's face turned into a mask of steel. "We take a very dim view of those who are unwilling to work."
"But if there is no work, Prime Minister, what are they to do? Why is there no work now?"
"Well, I guess it's seasonal."
"Really? But aren't we just fifty-four days away from Christmas? Isn't that usually one of the busiest times with maximum employment? What has gone wrong, Prime Minister?
"We are investigating."
"I suspect you know exactly why we are in this mess, Prime Minister. What are you going to do about it?"
The Prime Minster runs her hand through her hair and bites her lip. "Well, they'll just have to eat Christmas cake. If you'll excuse me, I must go and fulfil the will of the British  people."                

 

Wednesday, 20 December 2017

Landsberg Prison - 20 December 1924

Roger Noons

 

a stein of wheat beer

 
‘Prisoner Number one zero two zero one, Sir.’
    ‘Thank you, Gruber.’
    ‘Stand up straight Prisoner, show respect to the Governor.’
    He did as he’d been commanded.
    The red-faced man behind the desk sighed, his barrel chest rising slowly and falling rapidly. He looked at the paper on the desk before him.
    ‘You appear to be the subject of good fortune, young man. It is rare for someone who has been sentenced to five years in this establishment, to be pardoned by the State Supreme Court after only two hundred and sixty four days. Particularly as an attempt to have you extradited to your native country, was refused by no less a person than Herr Seipel, the Austrian Chancellor.’
    The prisoner nodded, but remained silent.
    ‘I gather that in your favour, your behaviour has been exemplary and you have spent your time, assisted by a friend, in writing a book.’
    He nodded again.
    The Governor stood and offered his hand. ‘I hope you will continue to behave yourself and you will not in the future break the law. If you do so, you may find yourself back here for a considerable number of years.’
    ‘Oh, I’ll behave myself Sir, thank you.’
    ‘Good!. Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Hitler, and good luck.’

Tuesday, 19 December 2017

Time To Be Off

Allison Symes 

      Sparkling Water


‘We don’t usually leave the sheep, boss.  You say it’s dangerous.’

‘Yes, lad, but this is different.’  The head shepherd gazed at the  youngest herdsman.

‘The wolves and other predators are still out there, boss.’

‘Our visitors will make sure our animals are all right while we visit Bethlehem, lad.’

‘They didn’t say so, boss.  They just talked and sang about “glory to God”.’

‘True, lad, but they know we need our sheep.  Come on, let’s go.  Are you nervous?  Is that why you’re dilly dallying?’

The young herdsman gulped.  ‘Be fair, boss, it’s not everyday you meet the Son of God.’

About the author

Allison Symes is published by Chapeltown Books, Cafelit, Bridge House and Alfie Dog Fiction.  She is a member of the Society of Authors and Association of Christian Writers.  A round-up of what she writes where is at http://allisonsymescollectedworks.wordpress.com.  Her website is www.fairytaleswithbite.weebly.com and she blogs for Chandler’s Ford Today - http://chandlersfordtoday.co.uk/author/allison-symes/


 









Monday, 18 December 2017

Christmas Secrets

Sharon Boothroyd

Everything changed when Laura discovered the locket.

The Christmas gifts from her husband Matt had never varied - a beauty gift set, slippers, perfume, a chick-lit novel and a box of her favourite chocolates. Laura had always been happy with this.

Matt normally hid his gifts under the bed, yet the delicate, smooth silver locket was stuffed in the back of their 'winter socks' drawer. 

She'd stumbled across the small, blue velvet box when she'd been hunting for a thick pair of socks for her boots. So far, the winter had been mild, yet a cold snap was forecast – hence the need for socks.

The discovery of the locket had set off a thread of doubt.

Laura recalled all the Tuesday evenings Matt had spent in the weekly staff meetings - then he was busy with evening viewings.... she pondered. 

Was her husband really so devoted to his job or had something else (or more precisely, someone else) taken up his time?

Laura hadn't the time to dwell on it now. It was her works Christmas do this evening. She needed to get ready. 

It was a very different do from last year's extravaganza – a four course lavish meal at a ritzy hotel, plus a free bar and disco. Partners of staff were invited too. 

However this year, due to a lack of profit at the call centre, the Christmas do was scaled down to an employee- only buffet held in the dismal back rooms of the building.

 ***
Laura stood about in a quiet corner, clutching a glass of wine. Sue spotted her and wandered over. Laura had always got on well with Sue.

As they chatted, Laura unexpectedly found herself discussing her worries about the mystery locket. 

'Why don't you think it's for you?' Sue asked.

'It's not the sort of thing Matt usually buys me,' she explained.

'He is your husband. Perhaps this year, he'd like to buy you something special.'

She shrugged. 'Maybe.'

'Do you suspect that the locket is meant for another woman?' Sue's question jolted her.

'I think I'll wait until Christmas morning and see what happens.' Laura skilfully swerved answering the question.

'But what if you don't unwrap the locket on Christmas morning? her manager enquired gently.

Sudden tears pricked. 'I don't know.'

'Look, take the day off tomorrow. You need to think things through.'

'That's very kind of you.'

Sue glanced at a group of noisy, laughing colleagues gathered by the buffet table.

'I won't mention this to anyone at work. This is strictly between us.'

She smiled. 'Thanks.'

'Hey - do you want to know a secret?' she grinned.

Laura was intrigued. 'Go on.'

'I'm handing my notice in.'

'Oh.' That was a bolt from the blue!

'And I know the perfect person to take my place. You.'

She laughed. 'I don't know about that.'

'Think about it - but could you keep this under your hat please, Laura?'

'Of course.'

She glanced at her watch. 'It's getting late. I'd better make a move. Matt will be worried. Thanks for listening.'

Laura was touched by Sue's gesture – it was considerate of her to give Laura the day off, and the promise to keep their dialogue confidential meant a lot. In addition, there was the news about Sue leaving to absorb. 

For the majority of call centre staff, fat slivers of juicy gossip brightened the tedious hours dealing with the never- ending stream of complaints. The disappointment about the Christmas party had run deep, too. 

Even though it was grossly unfair, some employees had blamed Sue directly for this year's paltry seasonal knees- up.
    * * *
As the raw December days drifted, and the shops became gaudy with Christmas fayre, Laura's mind preyed on the locket. 

A second peep confirmed that the box had been wrapped, with a tag attached. It said: 'To my darling, all my love forever. Matt. XXX'. 

Sue's probing question 'Do you suspect that the locket is meant for another woman?' haunted her.
Matt's mum had passed away, he didn't have a sister or a daughter, and there was no favoured aunt or niece on the scene either. 

Did he intend to give it to a colleague instead? she wondered. It was a close- knit team at that estate agents and - her mobile bleeped with text. 

It was from Matt: 'I'll be late home. C U later. Love u.'

Laura sighed. It was a familiar story...then, out of the blue, an odd thought occurred to her.
At work, Sue always rushed off on Tuesdays too. When Laura had quizzed her, she'd seemed very vague about her whereabouts.

Naturally, this had been overheard and it wasn't long before the rumours about Sue meeting an illicit lover began. Laura brushed the speculation aside.

Sue's Tuesday evening activity (whatever it was) always fell on the same evening that Matt was busy.

Just like tonight, in fact.

Coincidence? Or not? Her throat ran dry.

She frowned. If this was the case, where had Sue and Matt met? Light dawned. Of course! At last year's company Christmas party.

Could the secret locket be for her? She shuddered. Well, whether he was was seeing her or not, she would apply for the line manager's position. A higher salary would enable her to stand on her two feet.
                                                                       ***
'I'm giving my Christmas work do a miss this year,' Matt announced the next morning.

Laura was pleased to hear this. 'Oh. Any particular reason?'

'I'd rather relax at home and curl up on the sofa with you.' He grasped her hand. 'I'm sorry I've been neglecting you. I'll make it up to you this Christmas.'

Her heart glowed.

Then Sue rang. 'Could you come in early tomorrow Laura? Around eight thirty?'

'Yes of course.' Her pulse quickened. Was this about her job application - or something more personal?

'We'll chat tomorrow. Bye for now.'

Laura couldn't sleep that night.
                                                
 ***
With her stomach swirling, the next morning, Laura cautiously knocked on Sue's office door.

'Hello Laura. Take a seat.'

Laura nervously perched.

'I'm pleased to tell you that your application has been successful,' she began.' You start my job in January.'

Her spirit soared. 'That's wonderful news!'

'I'm setting up my own business as a yoga practitioner. I've been attending special instructor classes in the evenings,' she explained. 'And now I'm finally qualified!'

Laura heaved a huge sigh of relief. 'So that's where you've been going on Tuesday evenings!'

'I've kept it secret because I didn't want anyone gossiping,' she went on. 'But they've gone ahead, anyway. You must have heard that they've linked my name to several men here?'

Laura smiled. 'All silly nonsense, fuelled by resentment about the Christmas party. I know the buffet idea wasn't your decision. Even so, it was wise to keep your counsel.'

'By the way, I hope you don't mind me asking - have you decided what to do about that locket?'

'No, not really,” Laura stuttered.

'I'm always here if you need to talk.'

She nodded.

Later, as she threaded her way around the desks to her work station, she thought she and Sue could perhaps become friends.

Feeling decisive, she decided to talk to Matt before Christmas too. Why wait? Why not talk to him tonight... Laura steadied herself.

There was really no point accusing him of being unfaithful if there was no need, she reasoned.
       
***
It was Christmas morning.

To celebrate her promotion, they'd enjoyed a glorious breakfast of bucks fizz, plus yummy crumpets spread with butter and tangy marmalade.

Even so, Laura braced herself. The time had arrived to uncover the truth about Matt.

'Come on darling,' Matt rallied. 'Let's open our presents!'

Her heart skipped as Laura followed him into the living room. They sat near the tree and began unwrapping the pile of gifts. 

There was her usual heap - chocolates, slippers, a paperback novel, a beauty gift set and perfume. Then she came to the very last gift – a small, square, perfectly wrapped parcel.
Her fears had counted for nothing. It was the beautiful silver locket! 

'Thank you darling!' She kissed him.

'I told you that I'd make it up to you, didn't I?' He grinned.




Sunday, 17 December 2017

Action

Roger Noons

Seven-Up times two

‘Mr Spielberg, would Steven like to come to the park? My dad’s taking me and we have sleds and flasks of hot soup.’
    ‘I’ll ask, but I think he’s busy at the moment. If you’d please wait.’
    Haddon Jersey was just about to leave when the old man returned.
    ‘He says thank you for the invitation, but he’s busy filming.’
    ‘Ah!’
    When the boy showed no inclination to leave, smiling, Arnold Spielberg said. ‘Perhaps he could do with an assistant. If you’d care to come inside?’
    The boy beamed. ‘That’s real kind of you, Sir.’
    As they entered the sitting room they were in time to watch the train as it turned the bend, crashed and rolled over. Smoke streamed across the green carpet. Steven, crouched behind the camera, was hissing and growling. The couple waited until he shouted ‘Cut.’
    ‘I’ve brought you an assistant, my boy.’
    ‘Thanks Dad. Hi Haddon, do you know anything about eight millimetre?’
    The lad shook his head.
    ‘Right, I’ll teach you. We’ll start with lighting.’
Steven Spielberg will be 71 on 18th December. He made his first film, the derailment of his model train, aged 12.

Saturday, 16 December 2017

The Recruit

Allison Symes 


  Mocha


‘Can Jim do this?  He stares into space.’

‘Have you shown him what to do?’

‘A million times, boss.’

‘Really?  You know my powers mean I detect exaggerations a mile off?’

The elf bowed.  ‘Sorry, Santa, but we’re rushed off our feet, we need workers but if Jim can’t…’

‘Perhaps he’s scared.  You remember your first Christmas here?’

The elf blushed.  ‘Breaking the tree baubles was an accident, sir.’

‘Quite.  He didn’t mean to knock that wretched tree over.  We must move it.  See to it, then send Jim to me.  It’s time for an encouraging word.  You improved no end after you had yours!’

About the author

Allison Symes is published by Chapeltown Books, Cafelit, Bridge House and Alfie Dog Fiction.  She is a member of the Society of Authors and Association of Christian Writers.  A round-up of what she writes where is at http://allisonsymescollectedworks.wordpress.com.  Her website is www.fairytaleswithbite.weebly.com and she blogs for Chandler’s Ford Today - http://chandlersfordtoday.co.uk/author/allison-symes/