Planning the Future

Andre and Adele Voyens were happy in the UK. They had decided to make the big move after considering what their future would be like if they had stayed in their own country. Although nothing was guaranteed they chose to change their lives forever.

They suffered no prejudice and found their new life delivered everything they had hoped for. After three years their small business was growing and so they took the brave decision to try for a child hoping that the future would bring further growth.

Fortune did not smile immediately but after two years Adele proudly announced that she was carrying their child. Together they sat at their dining table hands held and eyes staring into each others. Together they began to plan a future for their new family.

Six months later they were blessed with a beautiful baby girl. Years passed and their little girl became a teenager. It was around this time that their daughter began to show her remarkable gift.

When the family sat together and discussed their future plans their daughter showed a remarkable gift for predicting what would happen. Indeed, it was an uncanny ability.

It wasn’t just the family who noticed her gift. At school her friends would often ask her to tell them what they should do and what might happen to them. 

There was no doubt that Claire Voyens was a very special girl.

It's those Days again 248 - 255

Day 249. “Hello, hello, who is this? Is someone there?” I hear my voice speaking. Slowly I take the telephone away from my ear and place the receiver onto the cradle. I look at the two Inspectors. “All right then,” I say quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on but whatever it is can’t be any worse than is happening in my head. Ask your questions.” I sit back pushing the table to move my chair back.

Day 250. Well now it’s odd how things can happen. What I had intended to do was use the table to push my chair back. Unfortunately my chair legs caught in a rip in the lino so I ended putting all my weight onto the table pushing it rapidly into the midriffs of the two Police Officers. It totally winded them and knocked the tape recorder and exhibit bags to the floor. I have no idea what possessed me but the thought of having to explain that simple accident when all my other explanations have just got me further into trouble meant I just ran for the door.

Day 251. I do believe I may have made life a little harder for myself. Having run down the corridor I managed to time my arrival at the locked door just as a PC carrying at tray of tea was opening the door with his back. It tried to avoid him as I pushed through the partly open door but I could hear the clattering of the tray and cups as I bounded up the stairs. “Damn,” I thought, “I bet one of those was for me,” but it was too late. Before anyone could even shout I was through the lobby of the Station and out onto the street.

Day 252. I looked to left and right and chose to run left as two PC’s were slowly walking toward the Police Station from the other direction. As I began to run I heard a shout from behind me. “Stop that man!” I didn’t pause to look round but ran quickly down a side street and into an outdoor market. Isn’t it handy how often outdoor markets are nearby when you are trying to escape people. There were some very good meat bargains as well as a stall that was selling hand made jewelry.

Day 253. I was going to run right through the market and onto the street beyond but then I saw a large pile of cardboard boxes and all my memories suggested there would be the place that the Police car would skid to a halt to catch me. Instead a grabbed a length of material, wrapped it round me and sat on the floor playing a tambourine that was handily available at the stall next to the fabric purveyor.

Day 254. I was hoping to blend into the crowd but my bright orange fabric wrap and tambourine playing seemed to be attracting a crowd. Amazingly within moments I am surrounded by people in similar garb chanting along with my percussive music. I stood up and tried to lose them but wherever I walked they followed. At that moment a group of police officers came running at us. I feared the worst and was ready to hand myself in but they pushed through us shouting, “Get out of the way” in slightly ripe language.

Day 255. Somehow I have to lose the crowd of orange robed figures who have decided to walk with me. As we processed I asked the nearest to me who they all were. He spoke very quietly but I gathered that his name was Harry, and next to him was Chris but I couldn’t catch the rest. I started to walk slowly to allow them to pass me. Just as I made my way to the back I saw the DCI turn the corner and look at us. “Harry, Chris,” I said urgently which started another round of chanting. I made my way into the centre of the pack and relative safety.

Days 240 - 248

Day 240. “I am Detective Chief Inspector Books and this is DI Ternep.” Before I could stop myself I had said it. “Wow, that’s a turn up for the books.” “Heard it before,” said the rather bored looking woman.” “Now Ternep,” said DCI Books, “Read him his rights.” As the words I had heard so often in TV crime dramas were spoken I began to realise that this was serious, they were not play acting. They obviously believe I have done something and, as he was a DCI, something serious. “Wait a minute,” I shouted, ‘What are you accusing me of?”

Day 241. DCI Books produces a clear plastic bag containing the wallet I found when it fell out of the trousers on the beach. “Do you recognise this wallet?” he asks. I nod. ‘For the tape please. “Yes,” I say wondering how to explain it all. I found a wallet in a pair of trousers. When I opened it I saw a photograph of a man and a woman with two children. The man in the photo was me and a letter addressed to me was in there too. The only problem is, I have never seen the others in the photo before and I don’t know why the letter was to me. I decide to remain quiet for the moment. He lifts out another clear plastic bag. “Do you recognise this photograph?”

Day 242. “Do you recognise this photograph?” he repeats. I say “Yes,” as I briefly register the family of four picture but then “No!” as I lean in to look at it. It is the same woman, the same children but the man is no longer me. It is someone I do not know. “Can you clarify your answer please,” the woman DI asks. “Well,” I pause for a moment before stammering, “I thought it was me in the photograph. It used to be me in the photograph”

Day 243. “Can you explain what you mean by that?” says the DI with her world weary voice. I start, “When I first found this photograph in the wallet,” I pause for a moment wondering whether this will make any sense, “When I first found the photograph in the wallet from the trousers on the beach I was the man in that photo. ”But you’re not now,” says the DCI. “No,” I mutter, “I’m not now.

Day 244. “Do you know these people?” asks the DCI. “No,” I say honestly. “Then why did you think you were in the photograph?” asks the DI. “I have no idea, all I can tell you is that when I picked it up it was me cuddling that woman and my arm around the children. Are you sure that’s the same photograph?” “It is the photograph that was found by the wallet,” says the DI, “And if you don’t know these people why would there be a picture of you with them?’

Day 245. The DCI lifts up another clear plastic evidence bag containing the letter to me. “Do you recognise this letter?” This time I lean forward to look before I answer. “No” I say beginning to feel dizzy. The name on the letter is no longer mine but someone who I do not know. What the hell is going on? I clutch to the chair to stop myself from falling. Both police officers stare at me. “Is there anything you want to say?” the DCI asks.

Day 246. “What are you trying to do with me? Why are you playing with my mind? That letter was addressed to me. I don’t understand, I don’t understand,” I scream. They both sit back and stare at me. Finally the DCI lifts a manila folder onto the desk and opens it. He slides a photograph across the deskand spins it with his fingers so it is the right way up for me. It is a photograph of a body on a beach. “Do you know this man?” he asks. “Yes,” I say and they both lean forward as one. “Who is he?” the DCI asks staring hard at me eyes. “It’s the man in the photo,” I say.

Day 247. “Don’t get clever with me,’ says the DI. “And don’t get clever with me,” I shout, suddenly remembering an old episode of Finnington of the Yard, “I don’t have to answer your questions. I want to see a solicitor and I demand my phone call. In the last few days I have been dragged from the water, brought back to life, hospitalized, psychoanalysed and now treated like a criminal. What the hell is going on?” The DCI sits back and looks me straight in the eyes, “That’s exactly what we are trying to find out. Give him his phonecall.”

Day 248. The interview is paused as a phone is brought in. It is banged down onto the desk in front of me. I reach out to pick up the receiver when I suddenly realise, I don’t know who to call. I’m not sure what is real and what is not real. I don’t know which life I am in. I can feel tears form in my eyes. I shudder and pick up the phone. I dial the only number I can remember. After three rings it is answered and I hear a voice I recognise, Mine.

The New Laptop

Charles loved his new laptop. He had wanted one like this since he first saw them being used in American TV series. They were so sleek, so stylish and always being used by the heroes, the creatives, the problem solvers and he just loved its silver stylishness.

That said, he had opened it for the first time about an hour ago and was having a devil of a job getting to grips with the touchpad. He had been working solidly but the little cursor arrow representing where the ‘mouse’, if there had been a mouse, should have been kept disappearing off the sides of the screen.

He was not allowing himself to get disappointed or angry, he had wanted this laptop for too long to be upset. He was just frustrated. He had spent almost exactly one hour staring at the screen trying to edit the work in front of him but his control of the touchpad was making it almost impossible.

“I will pick it up’, he reassured himself as the arrow left the screen again. He took his first break, sat back and lifted his eyes from the screen. ‘Perhaps a cup of tea’, he thought, ‘No, coffee, people who use this laptop always drink coffee.’

He allowed his eyes to focus on the room and as they did he began to notice changes. His chair had moved, the magazines were spread over the floor, his picture of Marilyn Monroe was on a different wall. The more he stared the more changes he noticed, some more subtle than others.

His eyes settled in the corner of the room where his cd collection used to be and he saw it. It was unmistakable but still made him rub his eyes. It was the ‘arrow’ from the screen.

Without taking his eyes from the arrow he moved his fingers over the touchpad. Gently he rolled his fingertip across the surface. The arrow followed across the room.

He sat back in astonishment. Looking at the pad he held down the bottom of the pad and moved his finger. He looked up in time to see the arrow on his sleeping cat which was being lifted from the sofa. He carefully positioned her on the windowsill and took his hands away from the laptop.

In one movement he moved the arrow from the room to the centre of his screen and opened up an internet page. He typed in the model name of his laptop and the problem. A chat room instantly opened. The very first answer was about his very issue.

‘Some of these models leave with the factory setting LIFE and not SCREEN. Go to settings and change to SCREEN and remember lock or it will open in LIFE again when you restart.’

Charles opened settings and sure enough, it was set for LIFE. Having adjusted the controls he returned to editing his work. ‘What a relief,’ he thought as he stroked the silver casing, ‘what a relief.’

The Shuttlecock in the Downpipe

It was when his downpipe started overflowing in the rain that he really began to get annoyed. Well, in truth, it was the next day when he discovered a shuttlecock wedged in the top where the downpipe joined the gutter that he truly flipped.

He knew they were trouble as soon as they moved in next door. Two teenage boys with a passion for playing sport in the garden and two ‘modern’ parents with little to no control.

He had grown weary of the constant ringing of his doorbell, the never-ending requests to give back their various balls, shuttlecocks, frisbees and other paraphernalia. But this, a bloody shuttlecock blocking his rainwater downpipe, this was the final straw.

As he stood looking at his soaked flank wall he snapped inside. This had been such a nice quiet road. Everyone minded their own business, everyone respected each others ‘space’, everyone left him alone. But these two boys had changed it and now this, now he had a damp wall.

Staring in anger at the wall and through to the garden beyond his eyes rested on a partially deflated rubber ball. A ball that somehow, despite their regular trips to his front door, had not been retrieved. Looking at the ball and his ladder propped against the wall gave him an idea. Of course he would have to wait until it was dark but it would be worth doing, worth doing indeed.

It was almost two weeks later as the cold weather took its grip that he was woken from his afternoon sleep by the sound of the sirens. The cold had given some blessed relief to the constant noise from the garden but now he was disturbed by a different ringing. He got to the curtains in time to see the police, fire and ambulance pull up outside next door.

Respecting his neighbours privacy, as he had hoped they would respect his, he settled down into his armchair and switched on the television.

It was two days later when he overheard a conversation in the queue at the Post Office that even he began to be interested in gossip.

“Oh yes,” said the woman who seemed to know, “All four were found dead.” She nodded gravely, “Carbon Monoxide poisoning. Apparently the Police found one the boys balls stuck tight in the top of the chimney. Such a shame, they were such a friendly family.”