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A FREE short story by Colin Devonshire

The Good Old Days

“Back in my day, we didn’t accept any bad language. On our black-and-white tv, they hinted at foul jokes without saying the bad words. Adults would get the point without upsetting the children,” granddad said, before drifting off in another nap.

I loved granddad; it was always fun to be with him. He showed us paper and pen games, sometimes with one or two dice. Nothing electronic.

My brother, John, and I grinned and nodded at each other. John like his phone games more but would always join us, laughing and fooling around.

We messed about with our granddad, he always had a joke, with no bad language! He brought us the best presents for Christmas or our birthdays.

“God, is he sleeping again?” mum said as she popped her head around the door. Mum didn’t like granddad, we never knew why. He wasn’t her dad, maybe that was all? Or maybe because he used to sneak us chocolate bars? We would always welcome him, my dad, too, but not mum.

Granddad stirred, “Whose turn is it to make the tea? Must be you,” he waggled his finger at me.

I smiled and clicked on the kettle. I knew a goodie would be waiting as a reward.

“Do you want a cuppa, mum?” I called upstairs.

“Thanks, Jonty, can I have mine up here?”

She didn’t want to sit with us; I guessed.

“Now where was I?” asked Granddad.

“You were telling us about your old telly. They never swore in those days, you said.”

“Yes, and they never showed lady’s bits, either,” he said, we covered a snort.

John quickly covered his mobile’s screen, mine was in my pocket, I knew the topic would come up. Granddad always wanted to know what we were watching.

“You never told us what happened to our Nan? She died before we were born, tell us about her,” said John.

“Oh, you would have loved her, she was the prettiest gal in her village. She was clever too, had her own business at twenty. Very few girls ran businesses in those days. Men did all the work, women ran houses. Cooking, cleaning and having children, but not your nan, she…” he drifted into another thought. “Did you make me a tea yet?”

“You drank it.”

“Granddad, you started telling us about your tattoo, but you never finished?” I asked.

“This is the paratrooper’s badge,” he explained, rubbing his forearm.

“Were you in the paratroops?” asked my brother.

“Yes, I signed up when I left school.”

“So, you jumped out of planes?”

“Of course, we all had to.”

“Wow, that’s exciting, can we sign up?” John asked.

“Don’t joke about it. You may have a war to deal with,” Granddad said.

“Did you go to war?”

He sighed. I noticed mum leaning at the door.

“No, he ran away!” she said.

“I had my battle to deal with, back then,” he grunted.

“Yeah, sure, you started another family in Thailand,” mum said.

Granddad looked down and didn’t answer. Mum snorted and retreated to the kitchen.

John and I played on our phones. John played Fortnite, and I searched Google. The war granddad spoke of must have been the Falklands War, I guessed he must have been in his early twenties. I wanted to find out more. I would find out where Thailand was later. A strange thought struck me, ‘why had we never been to grandad’s house. I mean we had been there, we had been in his living room. But, nowhere else. Why?’ I wondered. I jumped up, signalled silence to my brother, and crept out. Rifling through granddad’s jacket pockets, I found his house keys.

Quietly I closed the back door and jogged the few streets to granddad’s house.

Looking around, to see if any neighbours were watching. I slid the key in the lock, click. I was in. Nosing in the downstairs rooms, nothing unusual. I don’t know why, but I silently went upstairs. Three bedrooms, the third was a box room, stacked high with stuff, taped and secure. The middle room boasted a double bed and not much else. The master room, granddad’s, was tidy, a made bed, a table with a book, James Bond, old and tatty, thumbed many times. In the far corner was a wardrobe, tall doors reached the ceiling, it was the drawers low down that caught my eye.

Looking around, like all the burglars I’d seen on tv. Inside was a battered briefcase. Locked. Oh, no! I whispered.

My hand searched my pocket, on the keyring was a tiny key. And yes, it opened the case.

Inside were several scrapbooks. Not my grandfathers, his father’s. The early pages boasted of a youthful boy winning races, cups, and other sporting events. A few pages on was a splash of a wedding, granddad’s. My grandmother looked beautiful, better than I could have imagined. She died before I was born. As I flicked further, a newspaper clipping of paratroopers preparing to leave for the Falklands. And there he was. Granddad is ready for war. Then there were official-looking papers. Mr J Jones is summoned to appear at Aldershot Military Court, on a charge of desertion.

There, glued to a page of the scrapbook was a section of The Pattaya Mail, which was a picture of granddad with a young Thai lady. Getting married. What? There were more booklets, papers, bits and pieces, I couldn’t face more news.

I let my tears stream, wetting the pages as I read of Mrs A. Jones found dead after committing suicide. My grandmother held a postcard with a Thai stamp, as she put her head in the gas oven. Granddad, what have you done?

The doorbell sounded along with a tap. Oh, no, I’ve been caught. In two minds, I decided to face the music; I started down the stairs. There were two people at the door.

“Hello, can I help you?” I asked.

“Eh, yes, we are here to see Mr Jones. Is he here?”

The men weren’t English, their accents were odd, they were dressed against the cold, even though it was warmish.

“He is not here. Why do you want him?”

“We need to see him. It’s personnel, where is he?”

“Um, can you wait here, I’ll get him?” I made sure the door was locked as I ran home. I looked back, the men had sat on the step.

“Mum, two men are waiting to see granddad.”

“Who are they? What do they want?”

“I’ve no idea, they seem quite nice.”

“See if your granddad is awake.”

I popped my head around the door. He was snoring peacefully.

“Come on then,” she said, “let’s see who these men are.” Mum lead me across the road.

“Hello, can I help you?” said mum politely.

“Eh, yes, but we need to talk to our father. Mr Jones.”

“What? Your father?”

“Yes, do you know him?”

“Not as well as I thought. I’m his daughter-in-law.”

“Hello sister-in-law,” they said together. “It seems we are family.”

“Jonty, wake him and bring him here, and I mean now.”

She guided the men through to the lounge, as I trotted off.

Granddad woke from a dream with a start, “What is it?”

“You’d better come quick. Some men want to see you, they say they are your sons.”

He lost all colour to his cheeks; he needed to steady himself on the armchair. Off we went.

“Hello boys,” granddad said.

“Hi dad, you look well,” one of them said. “It’s been a while?”

“We have a lot of catching up to do,” said the other.

“Should we go?” asked mum.

“This might take a while,” said grandad as he pointed to the door.

I was full of questions for mum as we sat in our kitchen.

“Not now,” was all I got. Google searched for Thailand. After reading about the sights and nightlife, I left mum in thought and returned to granddads.

I peered through the front window, the young men opened a bottle of what looked like alcohol, anyway, it wasn’t granddad’s favourite Scotch. Three glasses were handed around and they toasted each other. I pressed my ear to the glass.

“It’s taken a long time to catch up with you,” said one as he poured more drinks. I noticed my granddad was the only person knocking it back.

“Our mum worked herself into the ground when you left. She got us through school and then university. She begged you for help, you didn’t reply.” Both Thai men remained calm, as they poured more booze.

“She became sick, we worked to pay the hospital bills. She hated seeing us struggle for her. So, she ended it. It has taken until now to clear our debts and earn enough to visit you. Our long lost dad.”

“We are here now, have you anything to say to us?”

One man walked towards the window, I ran.

Dad came home from work, mum and I told him what happened. I admitted to spying.

“Leave them to their discussion. When the men go, I’ll see dad,” he said.

It was dark and past my bedtime, “Dad, I’ll pop over and see if they are still there?”

The bottle was empty, granddad sat still, the men looked like they were preparing to leave. I ran home.

“Okay, give it an hour and I’ll find out what happened,” said dad.

John and I were sent to bed. A short while later, sirens woke us, police cars and an ambulance hurried past our house.

My mum was crying as we went downstairs. “Your grandfather died this evening,” she said. I ran to granddads.

Dad caught me at the door, “Don’t go in.”

A policeman wanted to know what I’d seen. I told him exactly.

“But there was no whisky bottle on the table or in the bin, no glasses on the table or in the sink,” he said.

I pushed past him and rushed upstairs.

All the papers, the case, the lot, gone.

The policeman was on his radio, “Could be murder, put me through to Heathrow Airport security.”

The END

Book 2 at Wattpad. Have a look, FREE to read. HERE

FREE short story by Colin Devonshire

Are You There?

“Hey, where did you go?”

Sam banged his phone on the counter. He listened and stared at the Android.

“Hello, are you there?”

He looked around, hoping someone, anyone, could help.

“Now what?” He asked the ceiling.

The patrons of the upmarket coffee shop were unaware of Sam’s daily drama. He felt like throwing the cheap unit across the room. The people on the next table read his mind, they hid behind menus. A limp smile calmed them.

“Phone’s not working,” he said, shaking it wildly.

“Try turning it on,” said the school uniformed teenager on the next table to him.

The plaster above and the screen in front, blank, had no answers.

Sam gripped it tightly as if squeezing the life out of it, then pressed and tapped. The screen lit, Sam smiled at his neighbour, who grinned at her friend. The smile said, idiot.

“It’s working!” he squealed.

A man burst in, “I need a large Americano please.”

He looked around, wiping sweat from his brow. His jacket tightened as he loosened stressed shoulders.

“Hey, it’s you,” he said, glaring at Sam.

“Sorry, do I know you?”

“No, but I just saw your face.”

“Eh, yes, I’m sat here,” said Sam.

“I mean, I saw you on a telephone screen,” the man was panting.

“I don’t know what you are talking about?”

The man calmed, “Sorry, I should explain. A phone crashed to the pavement, just missing me. It fell from the sky, hitting electric wires on the way, then thumped into the man in front of me, bouncing off him, then crashing into me. I glimpsed the screen, it showed a picture of you. The same cap, the same shirt. It was you.”

“I was just talking to my girlfriend. Was it her phone?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Where is the phone?”

“A road-sweeper collected the bits and binned it.”

Minutes before, high up, a heated conversation was taking place, thirty floors above the coffee shop.

“See ya, dad.”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Oh, I’ve got university work to research,” said Chinsao.

“I thought I heard you saying you were meeting that idiot ‘gweilo’ boy.”

“His name is Sam, and I can meet who I wish.”

Chinsao’s father grabbed her wrist. He dragged her across the spacious living room.

“Come with me,” he fumed, leading the way past the open-plan kitchen and four doors to the bedrooms to a little-used doorway tucked at the back of the property.

“Where are you taking me?” 

The door creaked.

“To the roof, I want you to be clear about something.”

He pushed her gently up the dusty steps to another firmly shut steel door, which complained at the opening.

“And what is up here, that is so vital for me to see?” said Chinsao, dusting her skirt of cobwebs.

“Yes, it is important darling, when I was your age, I didn’t have a comfy uni to attend. I didn’t have friends in designer gear, I had to craft, getting covered in filth and dust. You should be grateful for the life you have.”

“Mum wasn’t!”

“It was sad what happened to her. I’m sorry, she couldn’t cope.”

“Mum hated you and the life she endured.”

“It was business, I worked hard. No wife should complain about a husband like me,” he said, walking to the edge of the roof. Concrete blocks, steel pipes and wiring littered the space.

Chinsao looked around, fixing her eyes back at the doorway, judging if she should dash for it.

Her phone bleeped.

“Give me that,” her father said as he snatched it. “Him again, has he no work to do?”

Sam’s beaming face filled the screen as it flew over the edge of the building.

“Dad, that’s mine!” She spluttered as it disappeared.

“I’ve brought you here for a couple of reasons.”

“What if I’m not interested?”

“You damn well should be. You are the last in the family. You are heir to my wealth.”

He spread his arms, looking left, right, up and down.

“On every rooftop, you can see, and in every room below us you know, they have electronic elements made by my company, every satellite dish, every box of tricks that supply internet, each tv and radio, have parts supplied by me. And, my dear daughter we own property up and down the country, as well as this, magnificent tower block,” he pointed behind them. “We live in luxury, the whole top floor of this block, why could your mother not wait? We own the most desirable part of Bangkok.”

“Yeah, yeah, dad, well done,” she clapped in slow motion. “I’ve heard it all before.”

“Which brings me to the second part of my little speech. The part you haven’t heard before.”

She looked around again for an escape route, guessing what was coming.

“Next week, my great friend and business associate from Beijing is coming here, to visit you. He is bringing his son. A dazzling and independently wealthy business executive, to meet you.” 

Chinsao’s eyes looked at clouds.

“No way, dad. I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“You my, dear, will do as I order.”

The talk in the coffee shop buzzed about the dangers of living below sky-touching buildings. Sam checked the time, his watch and his phone, both told him, she was late.

Coffee drinker’s eyes were drawn to the window. Pedestrians ducked and dived sideways, forwards and backwards in fear as a heavy object bounced from telegraph pole to advertising board and on a tangled clump of wiring. Out of view from the windows but all too clear to the people outside, a body was spinning on its downward spiral to crash to the street.

People covered their eyes and turned in horror as sirens raced to the scene. The police quickly covered the mess. 

Sam, leaning on one person’s shoulders, as he peered between other customers’ heads, they could see a gathering of people stepping away from a spreading puddle of blood.

The back entrance of the coffee shop burst open.

“Hi, all,” said Chinsao, “Coffee is on me. Who wants another one?”

“What?” asked Sam.

“What are you talking about?”

 “My dad just left me this business, amongst other stuff.”

“That’s him, over there, behind the police screens. He jumped off the building.”

The END

FREE short story – Colin Devonshire

You Call That Fun?

“You wanna do something fun?” 

“Yeah, I’m bored, what have you got in mind?”

The boy’s school was about to break up for the long annual holidays. 

“You two at the back, stop talking. If you’ve finished your exam, sit quietly until time is up.” Mr Jacobs said. Further disturbing the unfinished papers.

“Wanker,” mouthed Geoff.

His best friend, Mart, snorted. The snort shifted to full laughter as Geoff was pulled out of the exam room by his ear.

A bell sounded, pens were retired, except for one girl’s that kept scratching until grabbed by Mr Jacobs. 

“Time’s up. Please pass your papers forward. I will collect Geoff’s although I don’t expect there is much to see.”

The grinning students filed out, sweating or punching the air, depending on their expected mark.

Mart slapped his friend’s shoulder as he joined him outside the headteacher’s office.

“Bastard, I hate him and the rest of them. They think they are clever. Just because they have a well-paid job in a fancy school.” Geoff was fuming, his dad would not be happy.

“Cheer up mate, holiday next week.”

“Those that can, do. Those that can’t, teach,” Geoff smiled. 

A glass window slid back. “You can go in now.”

“Good luck with your dad. I’ll see you later,” Mart said as he turned, leaving his friend to his fate.

“Hi, dad, me again.”

“Don’t dad me in this office. Here you call me sir. Especially if you have been sent again. What is it this time?”

“Mr Jacobs thought I said something to offend him. He misheard.”

“What about the exam?”

“I didn’t complete it, I was sitting outside,” Geoff said with a smirk.

“What am I going to do with you? You don’t know how lucky you are to attend a school like this.”

“What’s lucky about it. I miss my mates in England.”

The dressing down ended with Geoff having to run around the school grounds, filling a bin with every piece of litter seen or imagined. The older boys laughed as they threw sweet wrappers behind him.

An hour later, he returned to the head teacher’s accommodation, dripping sweat and tired.

“Could have been worse?” Mart said, sitting on the school statue outside.

“That is it. It is time for revenge. Are you with me?”

“What are you planning?”

“Not sure yet, but it starts with Jacobs! Tomorrow I’ll tell you the scheme.”

Geoff spent the night sleepless thinking and planning.

“Don’t shave this morning,” said Geoff.

“You’re ringing early. And, as you well know I don’t need to shave every day. Anyway, why?”

“We will need to look older than we are.”

“Sounds like fun. What are we doing?” Mart was itching to know.

“See you at school. Don’t forget, last day, we finish early. Have clothes to change into. Smart casual, not shorts.”

The final day passed without incident. Mart badgered his friend for details hourly.

“Wait ’til we get to mine. Have you got any money with you?”

The bell rang, all students rushed for the gates, except Geoff and Mart. They strolled across the sports field to Geoff’s room.

“Come with me,” said Geoff as they dropped their bags.

Geoff’s dad had meetings and hand shaking to occupy him in the staff room.

The boys entered the head’s office.

“Should we be here?”

“Of course not no, but all the staff are at the farewell party.” Geoff tapped at the desktop computer. “I’m guessing my dad uses the same password for everything.”

Private details of all staff were displayed. 

“Here we are, Mr Jacobs, what does it say about you, and where do you live?”

Newer members of staff were gifted rooms on site, they soon found their own accommodation away from school. Mr Jacobs lived nearer the city centre. Geoff jotted down information. He was surprised to see some teachers even listed their social sites.

The boys started back to Geoff’s. 

“Nip to the girl’s changing room, please. Check it is not locked.”

“When are you going to tell me your plans?” asked Mart.

“The camera on your phone is better than mine, yes?”

“You know iPhones are the best.”

“This will be fun,” proudly stated Geoff. “Come on, time to hit the city.”

The taxi dropped them in Silom Road after twenty minutes slog across Bangkok’s congestion. It was 5pm. Not dark yet. While most office workers were thinking about braving the traffic. Other working girls were arriving at their clubs and bars.

“Sit here, fancy a coffee?” asked Geoff.

“I’d rather have a Coke.”

“We are supposed to be wealthy business owners, not children. Two coffees please,” he signalled the serving girl.

His eyes studied the people walking past their kerbside table.

“Who are you waiting for?” asked Mart.

“We are looking for a pretty young lass, who needs to earn a few thousand Baht. Eyes open.”

“How about her?”

“Too old.”

“That one?”

“Too ugly.”

“This one?”

“That’s my girl. Talk to her in Thai, yours is better than mine. Offer her three thousand, to pose for pictures. Only photos, nothing more.”

The girl snorted and walked past. Eventually, a girl agreed, but only if her friend came too.

“Wow, we are going to school,” grinned the pretty mini-skirt.

“Yes, now duck down, don’t let security see you.”

The taxi drove to the sports field. The four passengers giggled as they entered the girls changing rooms.

Inside the girls changing area was a lost and found office. Geoff, rooted around until he found school blouses, ties and short uniform skirts. The boys were embarrassed as the girls happily changed in front.

“Get your camera ready,” ordered Geoff, as he covered part of each girl’s face with other bits of clothing, masking their eyes.

“Now, tell them to act like pupils from this school, shy, but flirty, you know what I mean.”

The camera flashed, the girls were worth Oscars. They were instructed to mouth sentences. They pocketed three-thousand Baht each, plus five-hundred tip and the fare home.

Geoff and Mart rushed to Geoff’s room.

“Hi, dad,” he called, waving as he passed him.

“Link up your phone to my lap top, while I show you a new app.”

They were ready for action.

“This app is brilliant, watch this. You type in words or sentences, then add the accent you need, male or female. We need a high-class London girl. Then just listen,” Geoff beamed at his mate as the app said. “Come on, darling Mr Jacobs.”

“Do it again, Mr Jacobs.”

“Now I know. It’s not true you just like boys!”

Mart stunned, and open-mouthed in awe as he linked the voices to the video he took.

“Now, Mr Film Director, we upload to dear Mr Jacobs social media sites. FaceBook may not be shocked, but LinkedIn will be.” He laughed until coughing stopped him.

“Er, I’m not sure we should go that far,” mumbled Mart.

“If you don’t like it, go. I’ll do it. Oh, but, don’t forget whose phone it is on!”

Mart grabbed his iPhone and stormed out.

Geoff concentrated on his task. Then, sitting back, congratulating himself, he beamed.

Within days, pupils, staff and parents were trying to put names to the well-spoken girls featured.

The head’s phone constantly rang with school fee cancellations. The governors wanted answers. A meeting was arranged. Mr Jacobs expected to answer questions.

Mr Jacobs did not show, he had been murdered by a jealous boyfriend.

The END