Writing for Fun
May 2018
A Definite, May Be - Bob Wendelkin
The woman walked into the Charity Shop where she placed a beautiful gold powder compact on the counter.
‘Oh no not that again,’ said the shop manager as she once more looked at the compact. ‘Are you returning it? That’s the third time that it’s come back. Don’t you like it? It’s quite beautiful.’
‘Yes it is but there is something about it that is a little unsettling,’ replied the customer.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well sometimes when you use it you get the impression of a woman looking over your shoulder. When you turn round there is no one there,’ said the customer.
‘What’s she like?’
‘She looks young, I’d say in her 20’s, blond hair done in the fashion of the 50’s or 60’s. She looks quite distressed. Anyway I don’t want it in my house anymore so I’m bringing it back so you can sell again for the charity,’ said the customer as she once more pushed the compact across the counter.
Once the customer had left the shop, June, the manager picked up the compact to see if she could feel anything strange about it. As she was handling the compact one of the shop’s helpers came into the shop and saw it in June’s hand.
‘Oh that’s back again, it must be the third time,’ said the helper.
‘Do you know anything about it?’ asked June.
‘Well, I know it was first brought in by a Lady who said she didn’t want it. It had belonged to her Mother.’
‘Is that all she said?’ asked June.
‘Well, She said it was given to her Mother by a prisoner, when she worked in Holloway Prison in the 1950’s, the prisoner said she didn’t need it anymore.’
‘Did she say who was the prisoner?’ asked June.
‘No that’s all she said,’ replied the helper.
June’s curiosity was aroused she wanted to find out more about this compact. Who had owned it and what had happened to her. It just so happened that June had an interest in things supernatural and she belonged to a Psychic Research Group. This group went around to various locations to see if they could experience any supernatural vibrations. In the group was Damaris, a lady who seemed to have extra special powers and often brought about strange happenings. It just so happened that the group was to meet at June’s house that evening.
About 7.30 the group assembled and after the usual chatter they all settled around the table in June’s Dining Room.
June produced the Compact and placed it on the table. She then explained that customers had returned it saying that it had an unsettling feeling and sometimes there seemed to see a figure behind them when they used it.
‘Unless we have something better to do I think we should try to find out if this compact has any psychic powers’ said June as she moved the compact to the centre of the table.
‘Let’s try it,’ agreed Demaris.
Damaris opened the compact and moved it to the edge of the table as if it was a member of the group. The rest of the group then placed their hands palms down on the table such that their little fingers all touched. Those closest to the compact made contact with it with their little fingers. The group was now formed everyone was in contact. If anything was going to happen the group was ready.
Demaris closed her eyes and started to breath steadily then she asked ‘does anyone want to talk to us?’
Within a few minutes of concentration by the group a face began to appear in the compact’s mirror. It was the face of a blond haired woman in her late twenties with a very sad face as if the all the troubles of the world were on her shoulders.
‘Do you wish to tell us anything?’ asked Demaris.
‘I think I recognise that face,’ said one of the group, only to be glared at by Demaris as she spoke.
‘Yes I have a story to tell,’ replied the face in the mirror.
‘What is your name?’
‘I’m called Ruth,’ was her reply.
‘There I knew it,’ said one of the group.
‘What do you want to tell us?’ asked Demaris in a sympathetic manner. Knowing that those who have passed over but cannot rest must be troubled.
‘How did you pass over?’ continued Demaris.
‘I was killed quite deliberately. You see I shot someone,’ was her reply.
‘Who did you shoot and why?’ asked Demaris.
‘I shot David Blakely in the street outside a public house. I shot him because I loved him but I was not acceptable to him or his family as I came from the wrong side of the tracks. He was a brute and used me as a punch bag, a few weeks before I killed him he had punched me so hard in the stomach that he caused me to miscarry. So I lost a baby. I shot him because he murdered a child and he would get away with it. I was all confused my hormones and emotions were all over the place because of the miscarriage but I did love David.’
‘Where did you get the gun? Only most ladies don’t have access to such things,’ asked Demaris.
‘I had another friend called Desmond Cussons. He knew David, and I think he was jealous of my feelings for David. Now I think he wanted to see David out of the way, and he knew he couldn’t have me, so I think he also wanted me out of his life. He gave me the gun and we went for a drive one Sunday to the woods where he showed me how to fire the gun. He trained me well didn’t he?’
‘One evening I tucked up my son, Andi, in bed. Then with the gun in my bag Desmond took me in a taxi close to where he said David was drinking.’
‘When David came out of the pub to go to his car I shot him, I emptied the gun into him. I just stood there mesmerised, unable to move, I was outside myself just looking in, as if time had stopped. Then things started to happen so very fast.’
‘An off duty policeman came and took the gun out of my hand. From then on it was a rush, to the Police Station, questioning, then charged and finally put in a police cell.’
‘In what seemed a brief moment I was up before a Judge being told I had been found Guilty and I was to be hanged by the neck until dead.’
‘Were you never asked why you did it in court?’ asked Demaris in a most gentle manner.
‘The court was run by the upper crust and I had killed one of them, and I was just a poor girl from the lower classes. They didn’t want to know why I had,’ she answered.
‘Didn’t you tell the court that Cussons had given you the gun and told you how to shoot?’ asked Demaris.
‘What good would that have done, instead the Hangman would have had two jobs instead of just the one. Anyway my Defence Council didn’t want Cussons involved as he was also one of theirs.’
‘You know that thousands of people signed a petition for you to be pardoned, for the sake of your children,’ said Demaris.
‘Yes I know it was kind of them. Anyway I wanted to go, although I didn’t have enough courage to take my own life but many of my family did have that courage.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Demaris.
‘I was in my late twenties, gradually my looks were declining what was I going to do? I didn’t want to be one of those unfortunate women who made their living by walking the streets of Soho looking for customers. I thought I was better than that. My downfall started when I married that drunk Ellis.’
‘There I knew it was Ruth Ellis,’ said one of the group who had interrupted before.
‘Do you know what happened to your family after you left?’
‘Yes. My mother committed suicide at the age of 69, I know Ellis committed suicide by hanging himself, my son Andi also committed suicide nearly 30 years after me. My daughter Georgina who was only 3 when I died, she died at the age of 50 with cancer. As a family we were an unhappy lot, now we are all out of it.’
‘I must leave you all now I hope my story will be of some interest and a warning.’
‘Go and now rest in peace,’ said Demaris.
With that the face in the mirror began to fade and finally disappear. The group at first were stunned into silence. The group had met on a number of occasions but they had never before experienced such a session.
‘I think we can put that one down to a definite maybe,’ said Demaris as she closed the compact.