Storyteller by Colin & Anne Brookfield (top inspirational books .txt) 📕

“You need to get your feather-brain act together Polly,” interjected Sylvester. “All you did last night was fly in from some so called great adventure and begin blathering about a load of rubbish that we couldn’t make head nor tail of. Then you fell off your perch. Perhaps you’d like to start again.”

“Well,” she began, followed by a few bad tempered huffs and puffs, “I paid a goodwill visit to the Falconry on the Walsham estate to make sure the birds were being looked after properly.”

“A likely story,” interjected Skungee observing Polly’s bloated stomach and occasional burp.

Polly continued unabated, “I did a bit of ear-wigging by an open window at the manor, and guess what! Welby told the police how his employer and her family had pressurised their brother Charlie to divorce his young wife because she was far beneath the status of the Phillips family. Welby told them, that once Charlie was in the army and out of the way, Daphne Philips had ejected his wife Margaret from her home on the estate. Charlie’s letters were then intercepted by the family, which then left Margaret permanently disconnected from her husband.” Finishing with an extra loud burp she exclaimed. “What a rotten bunch!” There were murmurs of agreement all round.

With that over, Henry decided to visit the Italian internment camp, after all, the army might have taken Eddie back there to collect his belongings before taking him to the Shepton Mallet military prison.

Within the hour, Henry was safely waiting beneath Eddie’s former barrack-room bed, and his personal belongings were still in place. When the sounds of army boots were heard approaching, Henry changed his hiding place beneath another bed further along. It was just as well, because an army sergeant was now putting Eddie’s belongings in a heap on the bed and checking beneath it.

The sergeant then addressed the officer present.

“Colonel Mendip sir, I suppose most of this stuff will be transferred with the prisoner to Shepton Mallet, but what about this? It seems the prisoner has been keeping some sort of journal, almost a book in fact. Perhaps it might throw some light on the man’s mysterious activities.”

“Good thinking sergeant.”

Henry was almost asleep by the time the Colonel had finished the extensive journal.

“Well I’m dammed!” he exploded, as the sergeant returned. “I’m reporting this immediately to headquarters. This Egidio Francini is nothing less than a hero. I’ll have him out of the military prison and back here with his friends within the week.”

Several days after that event, Eddie’s belongings were delivered to him in his prison cell, for which he was very grateful, as there were entries past and present that needed to be recorded verbatim in his journal. Of course, unbeknownst to Eddie there was also a certain Henry (alias Ratty) who would be urgently hoping to get his nose into those concluding chapters. He had barely finished updating his records when the cell lock clattered and the door was opened by the prison guard.

“Allo, ‘ow are yer Volta-face? That’s what the German prisoner’s call you blokes because you run away. I suppose you got caught doing the same thing.”

Eddie grimaced.

“Anyway Volta, there’s a lovely bit of stuff to see you in the visitor’s room. Her name’s Margaret.” Eddie looked up in surprise. “How come you only escaped for twelve hours and yet got yourself a bit of fluff into the bargain? I’ve been chatting up chicks for years, and my dear old mum thinks my latest one must have escaped from the zoo when a cage door was left open.” That lightened the atmosphere.

“Good afternoon Egidio,” said the young lady softly as he entered the visitor’s room. “I’ve already heard what a great friend you have been to my poor departed Charlie. You have no idea what this meeting means to me,” she spluttered tearfully. There was a pause as she continued. “Please tell me the whole story and about that special something I’ve heard mentioned that is meant only for me.”

Half an hour later they were interrupted by the prison guard.

“Time’s up!” he ordered.

“But we haven’t finished,” wailed Margaret indignantly as she sobbed into a startled Eddie’s arms.

“Make another visit lady. Finish your conversation another time; there’s plenty of it as Volta’s not going anywhere.”

The woman left reluctantly.

“She’s got the hots for you!” mumbled the guard enviously as he nudged his prisoner back into his cell.

The guard returned scarcely an hour later to unlock the cell once more.

“Backwards and forwards, you’re starting to wear me out Volta,” the guard complained. “The prison governor wants you in his office; sounds like you’re in deep water again. Didn’t overstep the mark with that young lady did you?”

Eddie wondered what he had done to warrant being summonsed. This was his first appearance in front of the governor.

“Take a seat Egidio,” the man said cordially and then sat back in his chair and surveyed him.

Finally, he leaned forward and said, “Firstly, I thought you should know that I have the complete file on your activities, right back to your first contacts with the British military in Africa.”

“I’m sure you have,” replied Eddie.

The officer continued. “Colonel Richard Mendip the commandant of the internment camp you absconded from, was approached by a Mrs Margaret Phillips to visit you here, which, as you are aware, was subsequently arranged.”

“The Colonel has just been on the phone to me and wishes to know if the business between you and Margaret Phillips is now concluded.”

“Please tell the Colonel,” Eddie replied, “that I will be pleased to satisfy that enquiry, IF I am ever fortunate enough to meet her.”

“I’m not sure I understand what...” the governor began.

Egidio raised the palm of his hand for silence and rose to his feet.

“Please,” he interrupted, “time is being lost. There is skulduggery at work and a possible fraud, and I therefore feel that the British military should urgently ascertain the whereabouts of Charles Phillips’ REAL wife, Margaret. You see, I have seen her picture, so I am the only one who can identify her.”

“You are a very forceful man,” the governor retorted, “and dangerously across the line of insubordination, but luckily, I can see that you are concerned with what is right, so we will move on.” The governor rose from his desk and closed the file. “I am pleased to hear that you are learning our language. I understand from Colonel Mendip that you were a linguistics teacher in university before the war, so perhaps I am also beginning to understand why he shows an interest in you.”

The following day Eddie found himself on a Shropshire-bound train with only one military policeman for company.

A loud cheer went up from the Italians as Eddie arrived through the internment gates; it seemed they had heard a few things through the grapevine.

Eddie was marched immediately to the commandant’s office.

“Good to see you again,” greeted Colonel Mendip. “Take a seat Egidio. It’s good to have you back with us. Moreover, I am now fully briefed on the Phillips’ family deceptions. Our forgiving Sergeant Jenkins, whose bicycle you ran off with, has made a few discreet enquiries concerning the whereabouts of Charles Phillips’ wife Margaret, and the good news is, that he was successful.”

Eddie looked at him with anticipation.

“That will be all for now,” the officer concluded.

Eddie almost jumped out of his skin. The door had flown open, as though with a mysterious sense of its own exact timing, and Sergeant Jenkins leapt through, setting the room vibrating as he banged his feet smartly to attention.

“About turn,” the sergeant shouted at Eddie. “Left-right left-right. Pick your feet up lad.”

Eventually the sergeant brought Eddie to a halt by the side of a parked Austin pickup (P U).

“Well get in lad, what’re you waiting for ... Christmas? Oh and another thing, if you ever nick my bike again I’ll have your guts for garters.”

Eddie smiled, and climbed into the vehicle.

As they drove off, the sergeant continued. “Now let’s get down to business, I believe we have an errand to run, concerning the wife of army property, now deceased!”

“We’re going to visit Margaret are we?” Eddie asked.

“That’s right lad, we’re on our way now.”

“If we do that, it’s important that we visit Harvey’s Farm first,” replied Egidio. “I’ve hidden something there that belongs to Margaret.”

“Allo allo! Not up to more of your little tricks are you lad? Remember, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Martha Parish almost dropped her washing basket when the military P U drew up in the farmyard and Egidio stepped out. Putting the basket to one side, she threw her arms around him.

“Oi! That’s army property, don’t damage it!” ordered the sergeant with the suspicion of a grin. “Now let’s have some discipline good people, some of us have other things waiting to get done.”

Whilst Eddie was recovering the hidden paperwork from inside the barn, he felt something familiar moving about in his jacket pocket.

“Ratty is that you?” he spurted out, as a familiar nose poked out.

“No need to talk to yourself lad, things aren’t that bad,” the sergeant shouted from the other side of the barn.

Back on the road, they journeyed for about an hour.

“There’s ‘Durton Wood’ signed up at last lad,” said the sergeant. “We’ll have to park and walk the rest of the way.”

Henry was having a bit of a snigger in Eddie’s pocket at all the moans he could hear from Sergeant Jenkins.

“This mud is ruining me best boots and trousers, so the visit had better be worth it.”

Egidio was about to offer his cleaning services for later on, when they turned a corner in the forest track and the trees opened up into a wide open area, leading down to the edge of a deep waterway.

“Built to service the Industrial Revolution,” began the sergeant. “It all began ‘ere in Shropshire you know.”

“Yes,” replied Egidio sarcastically, “we did hear about it in our ‘primitive Italian village’ of Milan.”

The sergeant smiled to himself and then pointed towards the canal lock. “Is that the young lady you’ve been waiting to meet?”

At first, Margaret was not aware of their presence, as she was too busy winding a large iron handle at the lock gates which allowed an inflow of water from the higher canal into the lock, and the barge within it, began to rise to its upper level.

“This is how a boat can be raised from a lower canal to a higher one or the other way around,” instructed Sergeant Jenkins. Eddie smiled patiently.

Their introductions to Margaret were done between gasps of breath, as the two men took over the heavy task of pushing on the heavy timber outriders connected to the lock gates. As these were swung open the barge tow rope was reconnected to the heavy draft horse that had been waiting on the tow-path for the journey to continue.

With that work done and some assurance that all would be explained, Margaret led them to the place where she was living; it consisted of only one immaculately kept room. Whilst the kettle boiled, she laid the small table with tea and fairy cakes.

Secretly, they were both aghast that such a pretty young thing should have been reduced to this drudgery and with only a shed to live in.

Eddie retold the story of her husband, and she wept constantly as she listened.

Before they departed, Eddie returned the photograph of her that he had removed from Charlie’s body, along with the letter from the Arab and one from her husband concerning her. As they left, Sergeant Jenkins pressed a one pound note into her hand.

Several days had elapsed, when once again Eddie was summoned to Colonel Mendip’s office.

“I have a very important gentleman in the other room who wishes to meet you,” he said, “also a young lady named Margaret, whom I believe you have already met.”

Eddie was led into the adjacent room to meet a smartly dressed gentleman, who was standing next to Margaret.

“So this is our remarkable Egidio Francini,” the man