The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1854 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

It was on Halloween that we first got contact from James. A text which read, ‘ Cortez cremated! Looking deeper. J.’ Simon forwarded it to me. I checked, they don’t usually cremate bodies in Catholic countries, spoils things for the second coming apparently–obviously more than the worms and maggots do, after the lysosomes have been released. These are enzymes held in most cells within a protective membrane. If the cell is injured or dies, the lysosomes are released and start breaking down the cell. Nature takes care of its own waste products and enables the animals and plants which feed on dead and decaying things to get started in recycling the energy and elements within the dead organism. In cremation that obviously only happens to the bone ash if it’s made available to them such as by interment or scattering.

Something was decidedly fishy about the whole thing. Was Cortez in Brazil or somewhere else? I sent a text to James urging him to be careful and to watch his back. He replied saying he would. I then sent one to Simon asking him to call him back. Simon didn’t reply, it was going to be a difficult evening.

The weather on All Hallow’s Eve was foul as a stiff breeze drove heavy showers against the windows of the house. We’d spent the afternoon hollowing out the pumpkins to make lanterns and David was making pumpkin pie–not my favourite desert.

Using a couple of sharp kitchen knives we carved ugly faces on the front of the gourds and I stuck a tea-light in each one. The weather stopped us putting them outside and also stopped any kids knocking on the door demanding sweets with menaces, while disguised as the erroneous stereotypes of witches.

After dinner, which was lovely pork casserole and the previously mentioned pumpkin pie, which I declined, The girls all dressed up in the costumes they’d been making much of the day with Jacquie’s help. We ended up with three witches–predictably, I suppose with big warty false noses, lots of cackling and a sort of growl which reminded me more of Long John Silver than Macbeth.

“Arr,” said Trish and cackled. I nearly looked for the parrot on her shoulder.

“Arr arr,” announced Livvie’s presence and waiting for Meems looked to be interesting, she simply cackled and said, “Aaah,” her tonsils looked fine.

We played some silly games, including a variation of pin the tail on the donkey–pin the witch on her broomstick. Then ducking for apples, some hot chestnuts which David did in the Aga, and mulled wine for the adults.

Finally, I got nominated to tell a scary story before they went to bed. This was held in the sitting-room with the pumpkin lanterns flickering in the fireplace, the room looked quite eerie. The whole blessed family came to hear me tell a story. I was going to read on but no, I had to tell one–so no notes; and it had to be an original one. That was Simon’s contribution–I’ll speak to him later.

“Once upon a time, in a place not far from here lived a little girl. Her mummy and daddy loved her very much and did all they could to make her happy and keep her safe, but their efforts weren’t always very successful.

“In their big old house there were lots of rooms including a cellar and an attic and our little girl used to like to sneak up into the attic and explore the things that were kept in boxes and crates. Like all little girls she was especially fond of dressing up in any old clothes she found and whiled away many rainy afternoons playing up in the attic.

“Being an only child she did, however, become lonely at times because there was no one nearby of her age and everyone in the house was too busy working to give her much time. She dearly longed for a companion and used to wish out loud for one.

“One day while she was playing in the attic, standing before an old mirror, wearing a particularly pretty old dress and feather boa, she wished out loud for someone to play with–preferably another little girl. She sighed and wrapped the boa round her neck and shoulders and looked again in the mirror then turned round in shock as she spied another face in the mirror standing behind her.

“‘Whoooo are yyyyouu?’ she stammered in fright. But the little girl who’s face she saw smiled and disappeared. For the next several weeks of the holiday our heroine asked the phantom to return and play with her and eventually, she did. Her name was Nell, and as Judith our modern girl played with her, so the ghost became more solid and like a real person. They both had such fun.

“However, all good things come to an end and Judith told Nell that she would have to go back to school–she was sent to boarding school her parents were so busy–which she didn’t like but had to cope with.

“Nell, tomorrow I have to go back to my beastly school, I’d much rather stay and play with you.”

“I know, Judi, but you must go and please your parents.”

“Why should I please them, it’s because they’re too busy to look after me that I have to go there in the first place. I’ve got a jolly good mind to not please them. Maybe I’ll hide up here instead, with you.”

“You can’t do that, Judi, you must go to school and you must do as your parents say.”

“Why? They’re such spoilsports and workaholics.”

“Because you must.”

“I’ll bet you always did what you were told to do, didn’t you? I’ll bet you were a really dutiful daughter, weren’t you?” Judi teased her ghostly friend.

“I wasn’t and I was punished severely for it.” Nell avoided eye contact with her corporeal friend.

“Goodness, what did you do that was so bad? Did they stop you watching telly or confiscate your mobile?”

“Those things weren’t around in my day, remember I lived over a hundred years ago.”

“I keep forgetting, I’m sorry, Nell,” Judi apologised, “but what did you do that was so bad?”

“I can’t tell you, Judith, it would spoil our friendship.”

“I like you so much, Nell, I’m sure it wouldn’t matter.”

“I went against my parent’s wishes.”

“What did you marry one of the servants or something–oh you didn’t get pregnant?”

“No, I did neither of those things, I disobeyed my parents and they punished me.”

“Please do tell me more, so I can understand better.”

“Very well, but I doubt you’ll wish to see me again.”

“Oh I will, you’re my best friend ever, even if you are dead.”

“Yes, I’m dead aren’t I, but these past few weeks I’ve felt more alive than I did when I had a body.”

“You are silly, Nell, how could that possibly be so?”

“My name wasn’t always Nell, and I wasn’t always a girl, well I was but that was inside. I kept stealing the servant’s dresses and trying them on and finally my father made my mother buy one for me whereupon he beat me and locked me in the cellar. He told me I was to stay there until I realised I was boy and behaved like one. I stayed there for three days braving the spiders and the dark.”

“Didn’t they even feed you?”

“He would only allow bread and water.”

“How cruel.”

“He was a cruel man in some ways and he called me all sorts of horrid names. After three days he asked me if I still wanted to wear dresses and I said I did. He beat me again and I was shut in there for a week. I became so unhappy, not seeing my mummy or Mrs Boscombe our housekeeper that I...”

“That you what, Nell?”

“That I took off the sash on my dress and put it over the beam...”

“Oh no,” screamed Judith and Nell nodded and faded away.

“Oh poor girl,” said Trish sniffing back the tears.

“That was really scary, Mummy,” offered Julie.

“Yes, darling, intolerance always is.”