Magic Box Story

This was an entry from Oscar Monteiro which won the HWC 2010 Magic Box competition.

Magic Box competitions  involve an author choosing three items (a male character, a female character and an inanimate object) at random.  A story must be written weaving these three items seamlessly. The purpose of this is to force an author to be creative.

Every picture tells a story

‘Come on Joan, let’s get out of the rain and have a cup of tea.’

Lily pulled Joan through the doors of what she took to be a posh hotel. As they walked through, a man in a dark smart suit walked swiftly up to her.

‘Is modom here for the sale of the Rayner collection?’

It took Lily a split second to realise that she had made an awful mistake – the crests on every wall identified it as Sotheby’s;  not a hotel. In that instant she recovered:

‘My man, this is so tiresome – is there any sustenance in this place before the auction starts. I am soooo famished.’

‘Let me take you to the guest room,’ oozed the man, ‘where complimentary food and drinks are served.’

Joan looked at Lily in amazement. They were sitting on a comfortable sofa eating caviar and drinking champagne. Was this a dream? Could it get any better that this?

‘How do you do that?’ she asked Lily. ‘Where did you get that voice from?’

‘I used to go to a posh girls’ school,’ said Lily, helping herself to another glass of champagne. ‘They all talked like that.’

Joan looked out the window. The rain had stopped.

‘Shall we make a dash for the door before they cotton on to who we are?’

‘Are you mad,’ said Lily. She clicked her fingers and a flunkey appeared. ‘Please show us to the auction rooms.’

***

‘What am I to bid for these specially commissioned pictures of  the Rayner’s family?’

The auctioneer was a smooth taking gentleman who’d not be out of place in a 1930’s film.

‘The untimely death of Lord and Lady Rayner in a car crash, has caused the sale of these family treasures. They are a too distressing a reminder for their surviving son, Joseph.’

Joan was feeling tipsy after the champagne. She was also feeling an itch on her forehead. As she started to scratch it, Lily stopped her.

‘Don’t do that!’ said Lily, ‘He’ll think you are bidding.’

The pictures of the family were being steadily being sold.

‘And what am I going to bid for this particularly fine specimen of a family picture. This painting is unusually showing Joseph when he was young,’ the auctioneer went on. ‘For some reason this was not hung after it was commissioned.’

Joan looked at the picture. It was a picture of Lord and Lady Rayner sitting on the floor with baby Joseph between them. The baby had his toys nearby and he was biting on a bright green teething ring which had been cut in half..  The influence of champagne, the excitement of the surroundings, the itch she could not scratch or  something else, affected her - she fell over in a faint.

***

The quiet sunny gardens had a calming effect on Joan as she was pushed in a wheel-chair by her nurse.

‘So Joan,’ she said, ‘I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. You were doing so well too.’

‘Yes Nurse Phillips,’ replied Joan, ‘I was doing so well. Did my friend Lily phone?’

    ‘She did better than that – she is here by the garden gates. I’ll get her.’ With that the nurse walked down the long path to meet Lily.

            ‘Have you known Joan long,’ Lily asked the nurse on their way back to Joan.

‘Over twenty years,’ the nurse replied. ‘She has been in and out of here since the incident.’

‘The incident?’

‘Didn’t you read the headlines,’ said the nurse. ‘Child snatched while housewife slept. Housewife’s neglect led to disaster. They crucified her - the papers did.’

The nurse brushed a tear off her face.

‘It was like it happened last week for me,’ she said, ‘and like yesterday for poor old Joan. They never found the child you know.’

Lily looked at Joan as they walked towards her.

‘So what triggered this latest breakdown,’ she asked the nurse.

‘I don’t know,’ the nurse replied, ‘you may know better than me  - you were there after all. But it happens generally when she sees a baby boy like the one she lost twenty years ago. Her brain cannot comprehend that he is a man now. If he is alive that is. She never gives up hope.’

***

‘Hello Joan, so pleased to see you,’

Lily hugged her friend. ‘When I met you at Debenhams two week’s ago, I never knew what a history you had.’

Joan’s face fell. ‘Yes sorry about the drama at Sotheby’s. I guess Nurse Phillips has given you the ghastly details.’  

Lily hugged her friend again. ‘What do you think caused you to faint?’ she asked.

Joan looked at her with steel eyes. ‘That picture in the auction of the baby boy was my Jimmy.’

Lily looked at Nurse Phillips for support as she said.’ Joan, what make you so sure that was your boy. After all it was twenty years ago.’

It was the wrong thing to say.

‘Do you think,’ Joan said coldly, ‘that I’d forget what my own son looks like, and besides there was something else. I am not mad you know.’

She wheeled her chair around and went back to the hospital.   

***

Inspector Jeffries looked over the body by the gates. It was a ghastly business. An intruder trying to get into the Manor House and impaled by the spikes at the top of the gate. There was no way the middle-aged women could even try to attempt it but she did. She looked liked she died in pain by her tightly-clenched fists.

The body was removed off the spikes and laid carefully the ground. Forensics had not finished with it yet. They were buzzing around the body in their white outfits like ghosts at a seance.

A pale young man hovered hesitantly in the back ground. The Sergeant introduced the Inspector to him.

‘This is Lord Rayner, sir,’ the Sergeant said. ‘This is not the first time that he has been acquainted with this woman.’

‘Hello Lord Rayner,’ said the Inspector. ‘My condolences for the recent loss of your parents. First that tragedy and now this.’ The Inspector pointed to the body.

‘It must be very trying.’

‘It is Inspector,’ said Lord Rayner. ‘This this woman phoned yesterday and told me she wanted to speak to me. She didn’t tell me why. Of course I refused.’   

‘Of course you did.’ The inspector’s reply didn’t actually convey what he thought.

‘If you had just taken some time to speak to this deluded women, we’d probably not be standing over her rotting body.’ But he didn’t say that.

He said instead, ‘Lord Rayner, I have spoken to some people in the convalescence home where this lady lived. They talked about a family painting which you wanted to sell at the auctioneer Sotheby’s. Did it sell?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Lord Rayner, ‘It did not reach its reserve.’

‘Could I see it please?’ asked the inspector.

            The picture of the Rayner family in happier days hung in the hallway -the two parents and the baby Joseph sitting on the carpet and smiling at the artist.

‘Why didn’t your parents display this picture?’ asked the Inspector. He had the Sotheby’s catalogue in his hand. ‘It says here that it was never hung after it was painted. Do you know why?’

Lord Rayner shook his head. The Inspector had another look at the picture. There seemed to be too many toys there for the little boy, and all he seemed to be interested in was a bright green teething ring which was cut in half.

‘Aren’t you curious why that lady wanted to speak to you?’ asked the Inspector.

‘No, not really,’ replied Lord Rayner, ‘In our position we have all sorts of unsavoury types who want to take advantage. You understand?’

A wave of sadness swept over the Inspector. He wanted to explain to Lord Rayner what he learnt about the lady. He wanted to tell her what the nurse at the convalescence home had said, but he thought the better of it. He walked up the drive back to the gates where Forensics had nearly finished.

‘Sergeant, please get the body to the morgue,’ he said tiredly. As he was about to walk to his car, something made him go back to the body.

‘Why was she trying to get into the manor?’ he thought.

            He crouched over the body and looked at the lines of pain in the woman’s face. Her hands clenched in agony. He took one of her fists in his hand and slowly and carefully bent back the fingers,  one at a time, taking extreme care not to break them. There in the palm of her hand was a bright green teething ring which had been cut in half.