A group of teenagers are fooling around in the playground and one of them dies. Her friends try contacting her with a ouija board.
Penny Lane had been orphaned as a child when her parents, Steve and Grace, had been tragically killed in a car accident on the M6 motorway. She was only three years old when it happened and her aunt Molly, her mother’s sister, took her into care and finally adopted her.
She is an attractive young woman in her late twenties, with big blue eyes, and shoulder length ash blonde hair.
She suffered meningitis when she was six years old and it was touch and go whether she lived or died. During her recovery she came into contact with the Spirit world. She couldn’t understand or explain what was happening and when she told her aunt Molly, she told her that she had been blessed with a gift from God.
Penny always used to say, “You don’t contact the dead. When spirits want to contact you, they will!!”
She always avoided the word “dead” as she said, “We don’t die, we pass on to a spiritual plain.”
It had been a hot summer so far, which was unusual for the English weather. There hadn’t been any rain in south Devon since the middle of May and now it was the middle of June. The residents of Buckleigh were taking advantage of the nice weather and it was good for Penny’s aunt Molly because the visitors – grockles as they were called by the locals - could sit outside in the typically English country garden and
enjoy their cream teas in the warm sunshine.
“I remember when I was a girl,” her aunt Molly said as she was
preparing the scones for the cream teas, “we could always guarantee a long hot summer when school finished for the summer holidays.
Nowadays you never know what the weather’s going to be like. It’s all this global warning!”
“Global warming, Aunt Molly,” said Penny.
“Whatever,” replied Molly, “I blame the Americans for sending up all those spaceships. It’s bound to have some effect on the world. I don’t understand why they want to go investigating and interfering in other planets when they should be spending more money looking after our own planet. All governments are the same. A waste of time and money!”
Aunt Molly was a small lady in her sixties, very old fashioned, and held her beliefs to high esteem and nothing would budge her. If she thought she was right, then she was right, and no doubt about it.
She had been a widow for some years, before Penny was born, and had used the insurance money from her husband’s death to buy the cottage and turn it into tearooms, which kept her occupied. She always said, “As long as you are doing something useful, you never turn into a grumpy old cow!!”
So, Molly continued preparing the scones, they were all home-made, so was the strawberry jam. Everything was homemade and this is what attracted the tourists who would be holidaying on the English Riviera and pass through Buckleigh on their way to visit Dartmoor.
Penny, meanwhile, was making the tea.
The rustic, wooden tables outside in the garden, covered with white cotton tablecloths, which had yellow primroses printed on them, had already been prepared.
Aunt Molly chose these tablecloths because “they look more
summery,” she always used to say.
The teas were always served on china crockery. “My customers only deserve the best!” Aunt Molly would say.
The tearooms were open during the tourist season, which was from late May to early September. Opening times were from 12 noon to 8.00pm daily.
During the long days of summer, and if the weather was nice, the tearooms were always busy and full of grockles.
Meanwhile, the Dartbrooke Girls School, two miles away, was preparing for the end of the summer term. There had been a buzz of excitement that day because the exam results were going to be posted.
During the break, six young girls, in particular were running down the corridor towards the playground area.
Polly Nash, was a skinny, but very attractive girl, with long auburn hair, and wore Harry Potter type glasses.
Annie Archer, was short, with mousey hair, and had a heart shaped birthmark on the back of her neck.
Clara Browne was a typical country yokel, who always had her hair in a ponytail.
Sadie Mortensen, the ringleader of the group, who always got her own
way with the others, was a very strong minded person, always putting the blame on the others when she caused trouble. She had black shoulder length hair, and dark brown eyes, which gave her a Morticia Adams look.
Daisy Parker, was a very studious young girl, she was of average
height, with short, curly, blonde hair.
And finally Alicia Keays, who was very shy, and quiet
As they got to the steps leading down to the playground, Alicia got pushed and she lost her balance and hit her head against the cornerstone of one of the brick pillars.
As she was losing blood from her injury, the others called out to one of the nuns. She attended Alicia and got one of the other nuns to call for an ambulance, which took Alicia to hospital.
Back at the tearooms in Buckleigh, Aunt Molly and Penny continued preparing the food.
“You can’t beat homemade scones and strawberry jam,” commented Aunt Molly, “it’s better than all that stuff the Potts sell. Stuff in jars is full of chemicals and that’s no good for you. Eat naturally and you live naturally.”
The business made enough money for both of them to live on, but Penny had also written a series of children’s books called Spick and Span, a story about two squirrels that kept the countryside neat and tidy, and free from litter. She had made some income from that. Apart from writing books, she also helped people who claimed that they were having problems with the paranormal. Most of the time there was nothing paranormal about some of them. But she was always on hand to help. She also assisted the police if someone had gone missing
without trace and her paranormal instinct usually helped them solve a case.
She wasn’t famous, by all means, but she was well known and respected for her gift of clairvoyance.
Most of the time she was ready to help those grieving for someone
they had lost and was a great help in giving comfort and hope.
“Look out!” said Aunt Molly, “the News of the World is coming up the garden path. I wonder what she wants.”
Peggy Baldwin came strutting up the garden path, looking as if you couldn’t touch her with a bargepole, but before she reached the front door, Aunt Molly stepped out.
“Mornin’ Molly,” Peggy said in her thick West Country accent, “how be things today?”
“Just fine,” replied Aunt Molly, “It’s almost opening time and by the looks of things we’re in for a busy day.”
“I’ll be quick,” said Peggy, “just thought you’d better know what’s happened in Dartbrooke. Don’t suppose it’s had time to be on the news yet. That’s if they mention it.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Aunt Molly.
“It’s young Alicia Keays,” came Peggy’s reply, “She’s been murdered by her school mates.”
“What on earth are you gabbling about Peggy?” Aunt Molly asked.
“As I said, she’s been murdered by her schoolmates,” said Peggy, “if you ask me, they should all be sent to jail!”
“Well, we’re not asking you,” said Molly.
Penny couldn’t help but overhear the two women. She came outside and greeted Peggy and asked what was going on. After the explanation Penny assured Peggy that she must be mistaken. But Peggy insisted
that she had got it right. She always exaggerated any news she had heard so, of course, Penny and her aunt took it with a pinch of salt.
“Got to go now,” said Peggy, “have to put my pinnie on and feed my babies,” referring to her cats.
Aunt Molly and Penny were confused at what they had heard but were expecting to hear the real story once it had gone around the village.
It was now opening time at the tearooms and the first customers had started to trickle in. One of them however, wasn’t a client. It was Father Gordon.
“Good afternoon ladies,” he said as he approached them, “I’ve just bumped into Peggy Baldwin, so I suppose you’ve heard the news about young Alicia? With all due respect, I wish that she would mind her own business. She loves to meddle in others affairs, but I don’t suppose she means any harm.”
“Well Father, she’s just told us an amazing story, but we prefer to hear your version,” Penny replied.
“There’s been an accident involving young Alicia at the school,” he said, “You know, Dartbrooke Girls School. Apparently, some of her friends were fooling about and she got pushed down some steps leading down to the playground. Unfortunately, she fell and hit her head on the corner of one of the concrete pillars at the bottom of the steps and very sadly died on the way to hospital.”
“Good Lord!” said Aunt Molly, “and Peggy told us that Alicia’s
friends had murdered her!”
“No, that’s insane,” said Father Gordon, “it was a tragic accident. Nobody is to blame. I’m on my way to Torbay hospital to console her parents and find out what’s happened.”
The news came as a shock to Penny and her Aunt Molly because Alicia was a well-liked young girl of sixteen and very popular in the village. She would always come for a cream tea on Sundays during the summer break. She always looked up to Penny and they had become good friends. Penny had also attended the Dartbrooke Girls School when she was a young girl. It was a very prestigious school run by nuns.
“Once things have settled down,” said Penny, “I’ll go and visit her parents.”
“That’s right, my dear,” said Aunt Molly, “take your mind off it and help me serve these customers.”
“Yes, I know but I have to see her parents,” said Penny, “maybe Alicia will come through to me in Spirit, but it’s too early yet for her to make contact with me, that’s if she wants to, because I have to wait for her to contact me. You know, Aunt Molly, I can’t contact Spirit, Spirit have to contact me! And anyway, I’d like to know the details of why she died. She was so fit and healthy apart from being so young. It’s so tragic and such a waste of a young life.”
“That’s life,” said Aunt Molly, “here today and gone tomorrow!” she continued, “During my lifetime I’ve been struck by pain many a time, but pain has never broken me!”
The tearooms, by now, were filling up with a mixture of tourists and a few of the locals. Unaware of what had occurred, the tourists were chattering away about this and that, but the locals were solemnly
discussing the tragic accident and obviously giving their own version of the real story.
Just then, Amy Gentle from the post office arrived at the tearooms.
“Oh, Molly,” she said, “I’ve just popped out of the post office and
thought you’d like the early edition of the Herald.”
The Herald was the local newspaper.
Amy continued, “Look! The front page has the story about young Alicia.”
Aunt Molly and Penny had served all the customers and nobody was waiting so they took advantage and read the news.
The headlines read: Local teenager killed in tragic accident!
The details were given that Alicia had been fooling around with some of her schoolmates on the steps leading down to the playground. During the course of the tomfoolery, one of the other girls pushed Alicia a bit too hard, causing her to fall forwards and she hit her head against the corner of one of the concrete pillars situated at the bottom of the steps.
She was rushed to Torbay hospital but was pronounced dead on arrival. Apparently, she had a thin skull and the injury caused her to have a brain haemorrhage, resulting in her death.
It had been tragic, because the end of term was approaching and the girls were finishing their last year.
The police were still questioning those involved.
An inquest was going to be held, in Torquay, on the Wednesday of the
following week.
“Well,” said Penny, “now we have the real story. No funeral plans can be made until after the inquest.”
The following Wednesday came and went quickly and the verdict of
the inquest was that Alicia had died accidentally and no one was to blame.
On the following Friday, Buckleigh was in mourning.
The village green was covered with floral tributes to Alicia and the church was packed full with all the villagers and every one of the students from Alicia’s school were there to say their final farewells.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the church.
As a sign of respect, the local shops, including the pub, had closed until after the funeral service.
Pinned to the pews inside the church were small cards which read:
You don’t need a mobile phone to contact God. Please turn them off.
The coffin arrived on a horse drawn cart. It lay on a bed of hay and was surrounded by flowers. As it entered the church, the song “Another Day in Paradise,” by Phil Collins, was playing. It had been Alicia’s favourite song and she had been a big fan of his.
“Today is a very sad day for Buckleigh,” said Father Gordon, “a young life has been tragically taken from us and Alicia will be sadly missed. Now she is out of her suffering and is with the Lord. May she find eternal light and rest in peace. Our prayers go out to her family in their time of grief.”
She was an only child so her parents were obviously devastated at their loss.
The service was plain and simple.
The coffin was taken out of the church, again to the same song,
followed by Alicia’s sobbing parents. She was finally laid to rest in the churchyard.
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Penny Lane had been orphaned as a child when her parents, Steve and Grace, had been tragically killed in a car accident on the M6 motorway. She was only three years old when it happened and her aunt Molly, her mother’s sister, took her into care and finally adopted her.
