Have You Seen My Green Tights? Asked Anita Fairley

GNOME HARVEST

‘Have you seen my green tights?’ asked Anita Fairley.

‘No’ snapped Andrew, looking up from his newspaper into the steady gaze of his wife.

‘What have you been up to?’

‘Nothing’, he exclaimed. ‘What makes you think I’ve been up to something?’

‘That look.’

‘What look?’ He was already sounding defensive.

‘That startled rabbit look I’ve come to know so well. It always means you’ve been caught out.’

‘I haven’t got time for this; I’ve got to get to work’. And taking a final swig of his coffee, Andrew Fairley made for the door.

He’s definitely been up to something, thought Anita as she finished her coffee. The newspaper he’d been reading led with the headline “Gnome Raiders”. It went on to say that police were now taking seriously the disappearance of Ely’s garden gnomes after a spate of thefts from gardens.

Relieved to be on the crowded commuter train Andrew decided that he wasn’t cut out for crime. The Gnome Liberation Front had started as a prank one boozy night out with friends. First there were the individual dog walking reconnaissance trips to locate the gnomes. They went in pairs for the actual collection as one could keep a look out whilst the other entered the gardens. Mission accomplished, they would high-tail it back to the pub to join the rest of the group. Once he’d stepped back in the darkness onto a curious cat. The screech it let out nearly frightened the life out of him. But their last mission had been terrifying when a dog had started barking and throwing itself at the window. They beat a hasty retreat, the adrenalin pumping. And things were getting serious now the police were involved. It had to stop, especially as the group now wanted to dress up as gnomes. Andrew decided to come clean that evening.

‘I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw that look on your face’ said his wife triumphantly. ‘You have to return them.’

‘That could be a bit difficult, we’ve collected about fifty. Max is keeping them in his lock-up until we decide where to let them go.’ ‘Good grief. You may call it liberation but the police wont see it that way. Get rid of them at once.’

A week later the couple sat chuckling over their newspaper. The headline read “Gnome Harvest”. There were pictures of the beautiful harvest displays in Ely Cathedral, with garden gnomes peeping out between flowers and vegetables. The Dean was mystified how they got there but delighted that the thieves had repented. He decided to hold a ceremony to bless the gnomes when owners could claim them. He was quoted as saying ‘I’ve never told this to anyone but I like garden gnomes and any unclaimed ones will be placed in the Deanery garden until permanent homes can be found for them.’

‘Well thank goodness that’s over’ said Anita. ‘Can I have my tights back now?’

THE RAT-CATCHER’S DAUGHTER

As the gloom deepened Tilley’s eyes began to feel gritty. She put down her sewing and took off her thimble. For a while she sat and looked out to where the last red glow of sunset gleamed on the horseman. He sat erect caught in bronze staring defiantly down the barrel of a large cannon. A ghost walked across her grave as she thought about the women who waited in vain for their men to return from some long forgotten war. A bedraggled Scottie dog wandered across the street and lifted his leg against the lamppost. “Poor little thing looks worn out” thought Tilly blinking back a tear, “my life wasn’t supposed to be like this either.” She carefully wedged a log on the fire and lit the gas under the kettle. Out in the square the lamplighter lit the lantern above the hotel sign. A hansom cab drew up and the doorman, wearing his top-hat, hurried to help an elegant lady in a long dress get out. Tilley loved to watch them and dream about what would happen when her ship finally come in. She and Daniel often used to lay awake late into the night sharing their dreams. He had gone away to find work and promised to come back with a bag of money. But it had been months and although she had been careful all she had left in her purse was the few coppers she could earn by taking in mending. Her boots were worn out and wouldn’t last through the winter. They whispered about having children one day. Daniel promised if they had a boy he would whittle him a toy racing car and if it was a girl a rocking horse. The dreams were why she loved Daniel so much. All they had to do was keep hoping and be patient and keep working hard and one day it would all come true. Tilley was hungry and since the bread was getting stale she decided to make toast. She knelt in the grate holding the bread on a fork and looked into the fire. She imagined dragons crouching in caves and breathing flames. The smell of the toast made her hungry. She carefully spread it with dripping then added a flurry of salt. She had just finished eating it when she heard scratching at the back door. She hurried to open it and a scrawny cat walked in. “Where did you come from?” she asked. “You can’t stay here.” Relenting she gave the cat some of the milk she had saved for her cocoa that evening. The cat lapped greedily then curled up in her lap and fell asleep. Tilley must have been tired herself because when Daniel came in she was fast asleep. He lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom. His calloused hands were so gentle that she barely stirred as he untied her boots and took them off. He pulled the quilt over them both and was soon asleep. Tomorrow he would tell her everything was going to be much better from now on.

OUT OF THE STORM

It was wet, cold, and blowing a gale. The trees outside were shedding their last brown leaves, which whirled away in the blast, and the windows rattled in their frames. As early twilight fell the far wooded hills vanished in the murk. You could not hear the distant rumble of the M 5 – usually just audible across the silence of the fields – above the roaring wind. One or two lights showed from distant farmhouses as remote as this one was. Beneath such a blast even this quite modern building creaked and made unidentifiable noises. Sarah sat listening out for her husband’s returning car. At this season, she barely saw him in daylight. Not a nervous person, she nonetheless started to wonder if a tree might be down across a lane, or some high-sided lorry stuck in a ditch on a blind corner. Andrew was unusually late arriving. All at once, she was sure she heard a cry outside and flew to the door. The sensor in front had put the yard light on but no, there was no car – not even distant headlights – perhaps a piece of flying branch had tripped the light? She closed the door disappointed and moved towards the living room. Then a flash of panic shot through her. Someone was in the house! She knew it! How on earth? Ridiculous memories of vampires who could only come in if you opened the door shot into her mind and she felt the prickle of cold sweat.

‘Idiot! What are you like? The whole place is creaking like a ship in a gale anyway....’ she said to herself, taking a deep slow breath. The door to the laundry room was ajar: she heard a scuffle inside. Something was in there! She grabbed a torch from the shelf, thinking ‘Oh no! Not rats! It’s really too much!’ and gently pushed at the door with a broom handle... The door swung open slowly and there stood a small, wet, bedraggled and pregnant tabby cat. They looked at each other for a silent moment. The cat mewed once plaintively and took one step forward.

‘You imp! You little blackmailing horror! I saw you down near the barn the other day, didn’t I? Oh well, have a bowl of tuna and an old towel, and think yourself lucky!’ She towelled the cat dry as it ate the fish ravenously. Not too much food right away....Then she folded the towel, put it on the floor where it was warm from pipes underneath, and shut the cat in the laundry room next to a tactful expanse of old newspaper. The phone rang.

‘I’ll be there in ten minutes – get the kettle on. The Severn Bridge is closed and all the roads are just chaotic.’

‘Don’t worry: take it carefully! I’d rather it takes longer than you end in a ditch. But don’t be too long, because I have a surprise for you. Or possibly several. We’ll have to see. ’