The Siren and Other Strange Tales Read online

  The Siren and Other Strange Tales

  Copyright © Sheila Williams

  Published: May 2017

  The right of Sheila Williams to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, nor transmitted, nor translated into a machine language, without the written permission of the publishers.

  Condition of Sale

  This e-book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  For more about the author, visit: www.sheilawilliams.net

  Contents

  No Ordinary Cat

  Toussaint

  Sukie

  Boy with a Harmonica

  The Last Word

  The Siren

  No Ordinary Cat

  England 1998

  The staff meeting at Riverview Residential home drew to a close. Jane, the manager had one last item on the agenda.

  ‘Now ladies what are we going to do about that cat? Should we do anything about it?’

  Her team of care assistants shuffled to attention.

  ‘Has anyone seen it recently?’

  Hesitantly one of the assistants flapped a pudgy arm.

  ‘You have Christine?’

  ‘It was here again last night. Strolled in as cool as you please; did the rounds and disappeared somewhere by the kitchens.’

  ‘Did you try and catch it?’

  Christine flushed and shook her head.

  ‘Er, well no. I don’t like cats and I’m scared of this one.’

  Jane turned to one of the other assistants.

  ‘Mandy, you were on duty with Christine. Did you see it?’

  ‘No Jane I didn’t. I was sitting with Mrs Beck. The poor dear was restless. She wanted someone to be there with her – it seemed to calm her anyway.’

  ‘That was kind of you’ Jane beamed. ‘So much in keeping with the ethos of Riverview.’

  Mandy was one of her best care assistants. A hard worker, popular with the residents and she always gave a little bit extra attention which made all the difference

  Jane launched into what her team called ‘the why are we here ‘lecture.

  ‘Duty of care to our clients...safe...comfortable...hygienic...’

  Mandy Robinson drifted off. Her mind was on Mrs Beck and the diamond ring she had shown her a few days ago.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. There’s something about it...the way it flashes and catches the light. I wonder who’ll get it when she goes. It won’t be long now, I can always tell.’

  She dragged her thoughts away from the ring to catch Jane’s last few words.

  ‘That’s it for today ladies. You night staff - thank you for staying on for the meeting. Now let’s remind ourselves why we’re here. All together now, what’s our motto?’

  Dutifully if unenthusiastically the group chanted, ‘We’re here because we care’.

  #

  ‘Oh dear’ Mandy groaned as she changed out of her uniform, ‘She does go on a bit doesn’t she?’

  ‘Mmm’ Christine spluttered her mouth full of toast pinched from the residents’ breakfast trolley. She swallowed and added, ‘It’s weird about that cat isn’t it?’

  That cat was a sleek cream and fawn Siamese type with periwinkle blue eyes. It turned up one day, stalked through the residents’ lounge and along the corridor to the bedrooms. It visited each of the rooms before disappearing. It had made an appearance several times since but despite a number of attempts no-one had been able to catch it.

  ‘I’ll tell you what’s weird about that cat.’ Mandy opened the changing room window before lighting up an illicit cigarette.

  ‘Ooh, what? Tell me.’

  Mandy surveyed her colleague taking in the moustache of crumbs around her mouth, the pale round fleshy face.

  ‘You know Christine, if you keep on eating as you do you’ll need a new uniform. You’re busting out all over in that one as it is.’ She poked playfully at the gap between the strained buttons on the front.

  ‘Oh I know. But I find food so comforting – it takes away my troubles.’

  ‘But you’ve already pinched half of Mrs Grace’s breakfast, what more do you want?’

  Christine blushed.

  ‘Ssh, not so loud. I’d get the sack if anyone else knew. You won’t tell on me Mandy, will you? I need this job.’

  ‘No, of course not. It’s no skin off my nose if you stuff yourself silly. Besides we all have our own little ways here, don’t we?’

  Christine nodded although she was not exactly sure what Mandy was referring to. She liked her colleague. She was good to work with and yet there was something about her that made her a bit ill at ease. The residents loved her, always had a smile for her when she came on duty. They never threw things at her or spat their food over her. She could sweet talk them too. They gave her little things like bits of old costume jewellery they had no more use for or loose change left over from a shopping trip.

  She shrugged off these thoughts. ‘So go on, tell me what’s weird about the cat.’

  ‘Haven’t you noticed that it knows when one of the old dears is going to pop off?’

  ‘What?’ Christine shrieked.

  ‘Ssh, keep your voice down or I won’t tell you anything.’

  ‘Sorry Mandy, but do you mean...’

  ‘I mean what I say. That cat knows when someone’s going to die.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Think about it. Normally the cat does the rounds of each room, stops in the doorway, makes that funny clicky sound and moves on. Now, remember the other week when Mrs Peters died? I watched that cat. It went into the room, jumped up onto the bed and sat staring at her until she died. Right at the end Mrs Peters opened her eyes, looked at the cat and off she popped. I’ve never said anything but that wasn’t the first time either. It was the same when the gent in number eleven went and before that, the woman who came in from St Thomas’...what was her name?’

  ‘Old Mrs Fergusson you mean?’

  ‘Yep, that’s her; fussy Fergy we called her.’

  Christine shivered. ‘This is so spooky. I don’t like cats at the best of times but now I’m even more scared of them. Do you believe it knows when...when...?’

  ‘The end is nigh? Sure why not. I do.’

  ‘Noooooo.You don’t ...do you?’

  ‘Yeah, I can spot the signs’ Mandy grinned, ‘but I’m not telling you all my secrets.’

  #

  Two nights later Mandy and Christine were on duty again.

  ‘Christine be a pal and do the first rounds will you? My internet was down at home and I must get these bills paid.’

  ‘But we’re not supposed to use the computer without permission.’

  ‘I know, I know. There are lots of things we’re not supposed to do but we do them anyway. Needs must. I don’t want the electricity cutting off. But when you get to Mrs Beck give me a call; I want to take a look at her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Ask no questions get told no lies.’ Mandy relented. ‘Look Christine, she’s lonely and scared. I like to keep her company, let her know that someone cares. She was dumped here by her relatives like most of the other residents. They didn’t want to look after her, feed her, cut her yellow toenails, change her fanny pad and wipe her bum. But you can be sure that they’ll com
e along after she’s died, clear out her things and forget all about her again. It makes me so cross. You know if anyone deserves a little thank you gift, it’s us. We’ve earned it.’

  She waited to see if Christine had anything more to say. ‘Now push off and let me get on with what I’ve got to do.’

  Around midnight Christine returned breathless to the staff room where Mandy was surfing the internet.

  ‘I’ve been round everywhere’ she puffed, ‘there’s only Mrs Beck to see to.’

  ‘Well don’t have a heart attack over it, Sit down a minute while I turn off the computer.’

  Christine caught a glimpse of the computer screen.

  ‘What have you been looking at? Are you booking a holiday?’

  ‘Never you mind, nosy cow.’ Mandy quickly closed down the screen. ‘Let’s go and take a look at Mrs Beck.’

  They walked along the long corridor towards Mrs Beck’s room. The night lights cast little white puddles on the green lino. A whiff of disinfectant lingered in the air. All was quiet.

  ‘Isn’t it spooky when it’s quiet like this?’ Christine whispered.

  ‘Whatever are you whispering for?’ Mandy’s clear voice cut through the silence. ‘We can’t wake the dead or the nearly dead, which is what most of these old folk are.’

  ‘Ooh, what a horrible thing to say. You know sometimes I wonder if you do care about them as much as all that.’

  ‘I’m not horrible, I’m realistic, honest. The job suits me...up to a point. But I don’t plan to be here much longer.’

  ‘But do you care for any of them?’

  ‘I care as much as six quid an hour lets me.’

  They reached Mrs Beck’s door.

  ‘I tell you what Christine why don’t you go and have a sit down, put the kettle on, and make some tea and toast. I’m going to sit with Mrs Beck a while, it’s not going to be long now.’

  ‘We-ll if you don’t mind?’ Christine gave Mandy a doubtful look.

  ‘No. Shoo. Off you go.’

  Mandy waited until Christine shambled back to the staff room before entering Mrs Beck’s room.

  A nightlight on the bedside table bathed the small frail figure in the bed in a gentle glow. Mandy bent over her scrutinising the yellowish pallor of her skin. She listened to the irregular short breaths occasionally punctuated by a rasping noise deep in the back of the throat. ‘Not long to go now my dear’ she murmured.

  Turning away from the bed she slid open the top drawer of the bedside cabinet, lifted out a small box and raised the lid. Nestled on black velvet, sparkling even in the dim light, was Mrs Beck’s diamond ring. Mandy drew a breath and slipped the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. She stretched her hand out in front of her towards the light and waggled her fingers. The way the stones glittered fascinated her. She gave a little laugh.

  ‘You know Mrs Beck, you should have put this in the office safe. It’s not fair to leave it lying around for us to see. And, after you’re gone your grandson will give it to his wife who I know you don’t like. I doubt she’d be able to get it over her finger anyway.’ She waggled her slim fingers again. ‘Fits a treat on me and it suits me. I’d better take care of it now. I know you’d like me to have it after all the extra attention I’ve given you and you can hardly expect to take it with you where you’re going.’

  Mandy slid the ring off her finger and put it back into its box which she thrust into the pocket of her uniform. As she did so she heard a ‘tchk tchk’ noise at the door. She spun round to see the cat in the doorway.

  ‘Oh you’re here again. You’ve got good timing, because Mrs Beck will be leaving us tonight.’

  The cat stalked into the room and stopped at Mandy’s feet. It looked up at her, blue eyes shining. Mandy aimed a swift kick at it, unsettled by its intense gaze. The cat leaped onto Mrs Beck’s bed and settled.

  ‘Well have fun, I’m off.’

  Slowly, the cat turned its head towards Mandy, as if appraising her. It gave a deep long rumbling growl.

  ‘Ah sod off.’

  She left the room.

  In the staff room Christine lolled in an armchair, reading a magazine. She looked up as Mandy entered.

  ‘You’ve changed already. Are you going out? I don’t think you should. I mean what about Mrs Beck....’ her voice trailed off.

  ‘Mrs Beck won’t be here much longer. The cat’s with her and yes, I’m off, for good.’

  Christine’s eyes widened.

  ‘Oh no, you can’t leave...just like that. I mean...’

  ‘Yes I can Christine. I’ve worked my last shift here. You can take over.’ She continued in a threatening voice, ‘In the morning you tell schoolmarm Jane that I quit. But not before, if you know what’s good for you. Do you hear?’

  ‘But I can’t...you can’t...’

  ‘Try and stop me’ and with that Mandy whirled round and was gone.

  #

  Mandy finished packing two large suitcases. ‘Now what else to do’ she murmured. ‘All packed and ready; cash and passport in handbag; tickets to pick up at the airport - that’s about it.’ She yawned and stretched. ‘Time for a couple of hour’s kip before I leave.’ She wandered into the untidy bedroom and lay on the bed. ‘Mmm, I’m so tired.’

  She didn’t know what it was that wakened her. Sleepily she opened her eyes. A streetlight outside the window bathed the room in a fuzzy orange glow. The reek of something foul and pungent rose from the foot of the bed. She heard soft purring and suddenly felt a weight on her feet. She tried to move, to sit up, to kick out, but her whole body was held fast in a claw-like grip. She panicked as the weight slowly shifted up her legs and onto her body. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light she saw a pair of cold blue eyes watching her. The purring stopped replaced by a long menacing rumble.

  ‘No, get off me’ she cried out, terrified.

  Slowly, oh so slowly, the cat slinked upwards over her body, stopping only when it reached her chest.

  ‘Get off me’ she panted. The animal for all its small size weighed heavy on her. ‘Help me.’ Her voice came thin and feeble. The cat stood erect, back arched, tail in the air, poker stiff. Its shining eyes fixed on Mandy’s.

  ‘Noooo.’ She lay helpless as the cat settled on her face, filling her mouth and nose with soft fawn hair, choking her, smothering her. As she drew her final gasping breath the last sound she heard was the deep rumbling purr.

  Toussaint

  France 1981

  ‘Stop, please stop. Help me.’

  ‘What did you say?’ I turned to my wife who was wrapped up in hurt silence in the passenger seat of the car.

  ‘Nothing.’

  I drove a little further when the voice came again.

  ‘Help me, please.’

  I pulled to a stop at the side of the road. My wife stirred.

  ‘What’s the matter? Why are we stopping?’

  Those were the first words she’d volunteered since we turned off the motorway at Carcassonne. Our annual row still festered between us – the great Toussaint debacle. Toussaint - All Saint’s day – the day when French families gather together and visit the graves of their dear departed. I don’t believe in all that stuff. Superstitious nonsense.

  ‘Well? Why are we stopping?’

  ‘I’m not sure...didn’t you hear? There’s something weird going on. I’m going back to take a look.

  ‘At what?’

  ‘I don’t know...back there I heard a voice...a woman’s voice. She needs help.’

  My wife cast a sceptical glance at me.

  Gingerly I reversed our battered old Renault back down the twisting road. I heard the voice again.’

  ‘Stop here.’

  ‘Now what?’ my wife asked.

  ‘Keep the engine running for the heater. I’m going to take a look.’

  I pulled on my duffel coat and got out of the car. Winter threatened to come early to the Languedoc and a bitterly cold wind cut through me making my eyes water. A fat white mo
on lit the frosty road. On one side a massive shoulder of granite loomed and at the other side a steep wooded ravine dropped into the valley below.

  ‘Here, down here.’

  I turned abruptly and peered down the ravine. In the moonlight I saw a gleam of metal, a vehicle of some description. I returned to the car and tapped on the passenger window.

  ‘There’s something down the hillside...I think someone’s skidded off the road. I need the torch.’ I fumbled in the back for the torch. My hands were freezing. ‘Stay here and keep warm. I won’t be long.’

  My wife gave me a hard stare before lowering the window to grab at my hand.

  ‘How could you hear a voice?’

  ‘What? I don’t know. I started to get a headache and a buzzing in my ears and...oh, I don’t know...’ my voice trailed off. I turned away.

  Between the torchlight and the moonlight I made out the skid marks on the road and the crushed, torn scrub where something had ploughed a way down the hillside. I scrambled down stumbling over rocks and entangling myself in brambles. About halfway I saw a car wedged up against a tree. The driver’s door was flung open and as I shone my torch on it I saw the body of a man, slouched sideways across the front seats.

  ‘Help him please’ the voice came again.

  ‘Where are you? Are you hurt?’

  ‘Never mind that now –help him.’ There was a note of impatience in her voice.

  Gingerly I approached the man. He was unconscious. I found his pulse – a thin thread of life but life all the same. I took off my coat to cover him and searched for anything else to keep him warm. On the floor behind the seats I discovered a travel rug and a bunch of beat-up gold chrysanthemums.

  ‘Oh no, not those again. I hate chrysanthemums.’ The voice groaned.

  ‘I’m going back to my car to phone for an ambulance.’ I peered around seeking the owner of the voice.

  ‘But come back and stay with him please.’

  ‘I will but ...well...where are you?’

  ‘Where do you think I am?’ The voice held a chuckle.

  ‘Well...it feels like...it sounds like you’re in my head.’

  ‘Quite right. Well done.’