It's new episode day! Series Two, Episode Three is now live!
It’s Toasted Fiction Theatre Thursday!
Series Two, Episode Three is now live and it’s the second of our three Para Handy episodes! Have a listen below:
Toasted Fiction Theatre presents a No Nonsense Production of Para Handy: A Radio Play (Not) On Stage.
A radio play not on stage (on podcast) adaptation of Neil Munro's classic Para Handy tales.
The Master Mariner, Dougie the Mate, MacPhail the Engineer and Sunny Jim along with a host of other characters take to the airwaves courtesy of three plucky radio actors. This week's episode is The Malingerer
Adapted, directed by and starring Kevin Jannetts, along with Calum McVittie & Stewart Phillips.
Check out all things No Nonsense Productions on social media @nononsensepro and their website www.nononsenseproductions.co.uk
Subscribe, share and leave a review/rating of the Toasted Fiction Theatre podcast. Get in touch with us @toastedfictiontheatre or through e-mail on toastedfictiontheatre@gmail.com
You can also support the show via our Patreon page www.patreon.com/toastedfictiontheatre with as little as £1!
Created by Chris Patrick
Series Two produced by Chris Patrick & Ross Patrick
For all more content, including sketches and books, head to www.chrispatrickwriter.com
Series Two, Episode Two of the podcast is now live!
Episode Two of the second series of Toasted Fiction Theatre is now live!
Genuinely really excited to be producing a second series of the Toasted Fiction Theatre podcast (all episodes available here) and even more excited that we could involve fellow local Inverclyde talent No Nonsense Productions with a classic Para Handy tale - the first of THREE!
Check it out, have a listen and subscribe to the pod! If you could leave us a review in Apple Podcasts and let us know you’re listening on social media, that would be grand!
2.2: Para Handy’s Apprentice by No Nonsense Productions is a radio play not on stage (on podcast) adaptation of Neil Munro's classic Para Handy tales.
The Master Mariner, Dougie the Mate, MacPhail the Engineer and Sunny Jim along with a host of other characters take to the airwaves courtesy of three plucky radio actors. This week's episode is Para Handy's Apprentice.
Adapted, directed by and starring Kevin Jannetts, along with Calum McVittie & Stewart Phillips.
Check out all things No Nonsense Productions on social media @nononsensepro and their website www.nononsenseproductions.co.uk
Subscribe, share and leave a review/rating of the Toasted Fiction Theatre podcast. Get in touch with us @toastedfictiontheatre or through e-mail on toastedfictiontheatre@gmail.com
You can also support the show via our Patreon page www.patreon.com/toastedfictiontheatre with as little as £1!
Toasted Fiction Theatre was created by Chris Patrick
Series Two produced by Chris Patrick & Ross Patrick
The End of Part One - What's Next? And When?
The end of Part One left us with a cliffhanger and a number of questions. Will they be answered? And when? What’s next!?
CLIFFHANGER!
Yes, Chapter Ten sees the end of Part I of The Quest For Perfection (Is A Damn Fine Thing) and it ends with a cliffhanger. Who is the mysterious man at the party? Where did everyone go? What is Fredrick Street? What’s going to happen next? WHY ISN’T THIS POST PART TWO, DAMMIT!?
Woah, calm down. OK, just me. But the above are all valid questions, and Part II: The World Beyond The Water, will be coming out in the New Year. It answers all of these questions and more. But for a few weeks, I’m going to leave you on a cliffhanger ending. Please feel free to post any ideas, theories, questions or hopes in the comments below or tweet me @dancingtoaster
I don’t have a TV show, and as such, I want to use this change to explore the cliffhanger ending!
Now, having said all of that, if you can’t wait to find out what happens, you can buy the complete novel on Amazon, in paperback and kindle, available here.
And if you have been reading each week, thank you. It means a great deal. I appreciate it, and until Part II, speak soon!
Part 1: The Strangeness of Fredrick Street - Chapter Eight
In Chapter 8, Betty disappears from Albert, sending him into a blind panic. Where did she go?
8
Albert pulled into the car park of the local supermarket, and fought hard to find a space, finally threading the car into a tight spot between a black Range Rover and a White Sedan with the precision of an Olympic diver. Settling the car of the main road diving board and into his concrete pool, he looked to Betty sat in the passenger seat who had taken the 20 minute journey to carry on with some knitting of a tiny jumper. A pang of sadness shot through Albert there as he took in the miniature winter-wear that Betty was holding for an imaginary grandchild, both of them unable to have children of their own. But no sooner had that thought took place than it left his mind again and he forgot to feel sad and instead smiled at his wife's skill with a knitting needle. Of course it was for the kids, they had a four with children on their own. Why had he thought otherwise?
"You want to wait here while I go in and get the bread?" said Albert. The supermarket was handily placed right next to the local duck pond park where the two old timers had decided to embrace the cliché and have a weekly walking date while feeding the ducks.
Betty folded away her wooly work in progress and stepped out of the car, popping her head back in before shutting the door. "I'll come with, I reckon you'll end up picking out some Gluten Free bread just to see what happens to the poor bastards if they eat that instead of some trusty white bread."
Albert laughed hard as the door shut. She was not wrong, he did have a slightly warped sense of humour and it wouldn't have been that out of the question if he were to do that. Although, it was more likely he would try out the Tippex on bread trick his friends in school had once boasted about, just to see if they could indeed turn their feathered friends into a feathered firework. But no, Betty would never allow it, and quite rightly so. She was never a fan of "fowl play". Chuckling again at his own pun, Albert got out of the car and took Betty by the arm as they headed into the supermarket, picked up a loaf of bread, a few snacks and drinks for themselves and then made their way over to the park.
As they wound their way round the duck pond, stopping occasionally to throw in a few chunks of bread, Albert sucked at the air generously, favouring the cold nip of the October air. Winter had always been his favourite season. He loved it as a boy, staring out at the falling leaves making way for the falling snow from the warmth of his high chair. He even loved it from his judge's chair, glancing out in between presiding and ruling over court proceedings. Albert Molineaux simply loved watching as the year changed from warm hands to cold, from long bright summer nights, to dark cosy winter ones. Swimming trunks off, knitting gloves on. It was the time of the year he had most fondness for; duvet days in front of the fire & cosying up to his Mum as a boy and now Betty as a boy-grown. The season when the cold ran the roost, to Albert's mind, brought you closer to the ones you loved, emotionally, physically and geographically. When you had memories as warm as this, Albert thought, it was damn near impossible to feel cold.
Betty gave his hand a little squeeze just then, as the bag of bread's short life drew to a close. "What are you smiling about?"
Albert raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Wouldn't you like to know, Mrs. Molineaux?"
Betty smiled back, meeting Albert's single eyebrow with a double eyebrow bluff (both raised to the top of her head and her head tilted slightly meant Albert's defense was broken). "Keeping secrets from me now are we Albert?"
Laughing, Albert shook his head. "Secrets are for those with no stories to tell. I've got plenty."
"Good answer."
"Always."
"What were you smiling for?"
"I was just thinking, about winter. I think it's my favourite season after all."
Betty laughed. "Do you? What's brought this on?"
Albert shrugged. "I don't know. I just think, I have a lot of happy memories from there. The scarf my Mum made me one Christmas, cosying up with you to keep heat, making snow angels and snowmen with the kids and—what are you laughing at?"
Betty gave him a peck on the cheek and screwed up his face in that way he liked, smiling that smile that made her eyes sparkle and she laughed. "Because you, Albert Molineaux, change your mind with the changing of the wind."
Albert eyed her quizzically, scrunching up the bread wrapper in preparation for the bin. "What do you mean?" he said.
"I mean yesterday your favourite season was Autumn. The day before that, it was Summer and before that Spring. Pick one and stick to it will you!" She laughed.
"Ah leave me be. I'm a happy guy, that's all." Albert, laughing now too, spun away as fast as his hips would carry and tossed the wrapper into the bin. Just as he was about to turn back round to take Betty by the hand, he heard a voice in his head that wasn't quite his own.
"How does she remember that? She shouldn't remember that detail."
Holding the bin to steady himself, he shook his head, shaking the thought away. What did that mean? It was the strangest sensation. It felt like somebody else's voice inside his head and not one he altogether understood. Was he thinking about how she never had a good memory? No, Betty's memory had always been terrific – one that managed to keep him out of many a quarrel by ensuring he never forgot birthdays, anniversaries or any such event in his life. What was happening? Were the white hairs finally starting to become a burden?
As Albert stood there, all of these thoughts racing through his head at an alarming rate, he felt a hand on his back. It was Betty's coming to make sure he was OK. He hated her having to see him in any signs of weakness no matter how many times she had given him a stern look in the eye and reminded him that what burden he carried she would carry also and he could be whoever he was going to be; even if that person was strong on some days and crying the next. Regaining his composure, filling his lungs with that cold air he loved so much, he turned to Betty, kissing her on the check. "I'm fine. Nothing but a little slip is all."
Then something strange happened. As he kissed Betty and pulled back from her to look her in the eye, to convince her he was OK, the face in front of him wasn't his Betty. He didn't know who it was.
"Are you OK sir?" smiled the stranger, concern etched all over her face. Albert staggered back, crashing into the bin and falling over, the world starting to spin around him. The stranger he just kissed moved towards him to help him to his feet, other strangers started to descend upon him to give a helping hand while the ducks quacked a crescendo in Albert's ear. He pushed away the outstretched hands, violently, jerking out of their reach.
"I'm fine. I'm FINE. Leave me alone," he shouted, anger twisting inside him like a black snake writhing.
Dusting himself off, he tried to get up and look around the park for his Betty, but his legs wouldn't budge. He tried to breath and looked around for Betty. She was nowhere to be seen. Nowhere in sight. And he couldn't get up. The stranger he had mistaken for Betty had started to back off now but was eyeing him cautiously. Albert gave her one last look, the face so unfamiliar he could cry inside and die with the shame. His lips felt like they were burning, set alight by fire and poison all because the lips he kissed weren't his wife's.
He tried again to get up, and this time his legs worked. Spinning away, Albert moved quickly through the park, limping and panicked, calling out his wife's name, scrubbing hard at his lips trying to wipe the poison off, trying to douse the flames, trying to stop the memory taking hold. He was running now, and his eyes had begun to sting; he realized he was crying now, the tears flooding his vision as he desperately searched every face in the park for signs of his Betty.
"BETTY! BETTY WHERE ARE YOU?! BETTY?!" he was screaming her name now, yelling it as loud as he could before his voice would become a hoarse whisper. He was shouting and crying and lost, hopelessly lost. And there was a voice in his head again, his but not his. Bring her back, where the fuck did she go? What's happening? We're not going to fucking lose another one in the same day fix this. Fucking find her god damn it! It sounded like someone else was looking for Betty too, or maybe it was just him. Maybe it was just his thoughts whirling around his mind as he searched frantically for the woman he'd loved for over 40 years but couldn't find. She'd always been by his side. Always. And now she was nowhere to be seen.
Reaching the park entrance, he stopped. If she were anywhere she'd still be in the park somewhere. Maybe she'd nipped off to get something from the shop. More bread for the ducks perhaps. Maybe. As he stood there, lost to his thoughts and in his panic, a man approached him. He wore a baseball cap, sunglasses and a scruffy beard. He had a friendly face, Albert thought, though fleetingly.
"You OK sir?" The man asked.
Albert looked at him, lost. "I've...I've lost my wife."
"OK. Why don't you just sit here and I'll go try and find her for you, huh?"
Albert sat.
"You got a picture?"
"Y...yes." He fumbled in his pocket and handed him a photo out of his wallet. "That's her there," Albert said as he jabbed the picture.
"OK. You sit tight sir and I'll go find him." And with that the stranger was off looking for her, leaving Albert sitting there with no hope the man would ever return and he'd just lost his favourite picture.
Time ticked by and no sign. Albert didn't know what to do. Maybe if he just sat here on the park bench long enough and waited she'd turn up. Or maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she never would. Giving in, Albert started to sob. He put his head in his hands and sobbed hard. Part of him knew why he was crying, but the other part didn't, because she'd be along any minute now. She had to be. So he didn't know why he was crying. He never really knew why he cried, even as a boy growing up in Canada. Thinking back to his youth, waiting for Betty, he tried to remember if he cried a lot and why. Maybe it was because he was a pussy like the Old Lady Jane next door called him after she caught him pissing in her yard when he was 5 and he started pissing tears then. Or maybe it was because he was still the little boy inside not grown up a whole lot. Or maybe it was because someone once told him that your demons die in the rain and he liked the sound of it. If that's the case then he was going to sit here and cry good, cry hard and cry long until Betty came back. Because he was afraid. He was afraid that if he stopped crying and looked up then he would realized some of the demons survived and Betty wasn't coming back and he was going to cry all over again until he dried up dead and—
"Albert? Albert? Look at me."
Albert slowly, taking his head from his hands and wiping away the tears, looked up. Betty was standing over him, holding a carrier bag. "What's the matter? What happened?"
Taking a moment to find his voice, as croaked and grieved as it was, Albert answered. "I thought I'd lost you. I staggered and felt a hand on my back and thought it was you and turned round and kissed you but it wasn't you and I couldn't find you and I thought I thought.....I thought I'd lost you."
Betty sat beside him and pulled his hand in hers and brought it against her chest. "Feel that, you feel that?"
Albert nodded. "Yes."
Betty pulled it tight, letting the beat of her heart pulse through Albert's hand. "As strong as the day I was born. I'm right here Albert Molineaux. Stop being crazy."
"OK. Where'd you go?"
"I saw you stagger and told you I was going to get you a bottle of water and the nice girl that came to see if you were OK would look after you when I got back."
Albert searched his memory. "I'm....I'm sorry. I can't remember...I don't remember this."
Betty gave him a concerned look. "Well, maybe your over-tired. You didn't sleep well last night did you?"
"I didn't."
"Well there you go. Nothing to go worrying about. You just got a little tired and took a tumble. You're OK now. Thankfully that nice man found me with the photo and took care of you."
Albert nodded, glancing up and seeing the man in question walking away giving Albert a little nod with his hat. Calmed almost immediately by Betty's re-appearance. Something was still niggling him though, yet he couldn't think to what it was. Not yet anyway.
Betty stood up. "Now come on. Up you get. Let's get you home and rested. You don't have to go tonight if you don't want too."
"No no. It's fine. I'll go. Just need a little sleep before hand that's all."
Betty smiled. "Good." Then she nudged him. "And we'll address the fact of you kissing another woman later by the way. Little tiredness and you go all Casanova on me. Poor girl will never look after an old man again."
She laughed, her sense of humour as wicked as always and Albert did his best to do the same, but he still felt shaken. All he wanted was to lie down, and sleep and forgot today ever happened when tomorrow came around.
Usually he did.
Part 1: The Strangeness of Fredrick Street - Chapter Six
In Chapter Six, life begins to unravel on Fredrick Street, with Kim experiencing something strange.
6
The high pitched drone of the dishwasher as it finished it's cleaning cycle nudged Kim out of her mid-morning nap; a treat she'd grew accustomed to since falling pregnant. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she sifted through the pile of scripts on the coffee table for her phone to check the time. It was reading the scripts that had put her to sleep in the first place, the majority of them B-Movie slush that made Plan 9 From Outer Space look like Schindler's List in comparison. She didn't mind that she wasn't necessarily an A-List star strolling up red carpets with flashing lights and adoring fans. It was work and it paid the bills. But, with motherhood beckoning, she felt it was high time she made her way closer into the big leagues. Perhaps the wisdom, the inevitable adornment of crows feet and a few wrinkles that would be a result of impending motherhood could elevate her from straight to DVD-fare to more cinematic outings. Most mother's wailed about how their babies took away their youth, their looks and their figure but Kim was hoping that it'd take away from her almost Barbie doll sculpted features and let her get taken as a serious dramatic actor. She'd never tell the rest of the mothers this though; she liked them and liked that they liked her, which wasn't easy for Kim. She'd always found it hard to be friends with women, part of it was because they usually made an emotional bee-line straight to jealousy of Kim's looks and career but mainly because they probably found it hard to make friends with the woman who was on a poster in their teenage boys room wearing nothing but a bra and panties in her most popular film Even Zombies And Werewolves Like Strippers. As you could imagine, it wouldn't be easy welcoming the woman their husbands, fathers, sons and brothers fantasied about round for Sunday dinner. But hopefully, all of that was about to change. She had resolved never to do a film like that again, not with a baby on the way and certainly not after.
Sliding off the couch, Kim left the living room and plodded into the kitchen to check on the dishes. After she gave birth, she should probably think about investing in a pair of sweats and some baggy t-shirts to walk about the house in, rather than in her underwear as she did currently. That kind of thing couldn't be good for a child's upbringing. Or perhaps it promoted a healthy body image and perspective on the human body? Kim wasn't sure, but she resolved to Google it later as soon as she got back from the hospital and pinned her new baby scan to the fridge, something that had become the favourite part of her day over the past few months. She glanced over at the 12 week scan that took pride of place in the centre of the fridge door and grinned so much she put the Cheshire Cat in Alice In Wonderland to shame. Kim couldn't quite believe it. All Kim and Mark had ever wanted was to start a family, build a life together and be with each other; everything she asked for was coming true and more with her high school sweetheart in tow. It was almost too good to be true. Almost.
She popped the hood of the dishwasher and had a peek inside, pulling her head back as the steam billowed out like she'd been keeping a Steam Engine train hostage in close quarters and it was now voicing it's protest. Once the steam cleared, she poked her head in to inspect what she hoped was a treasure chest of clean dishes sparkling back and for the most part it was, barring the odd straggling bit of food debris clinging onto the plate for dear life. It would appear that, no matter how expensive their dishwasher or how many times they put on the cycle, they just couldn't get every piece of dirt washed away. Sighing, she flicked on the radio pulled out the trays and emptied the dishwasher, whistling while she worked like a modern day Snow White. Putting the clean dishes and cutlery back into their cupboards she took out the still dirty ones, filled the sink basin with hot soapy water, grabbed the scrubber and got to work. For all the griping, moaning and arguing that she and Mark did over whose responsibility it was that the dishes got so dirty and whose turn it was to clean them (one of the reasons they bought the damn dishwasher in the first place was to bring a certain level of peace to the household, although they still argued about who should fill it and who should empty it) Kim rather enjoyed the process of washing them by hand. It was cleansing, almost meditative. It allowed her to disconnect from the world around her, all the white noise that the world had become and allowed her to focus on just one thing. Of course, there wasn't a chance in hell she'd tell Mark this or she'd find herself chief dishwasher for life and she wasn't ready to give him the satisfaction, no matter how much she loved him. It was much more fun to see him squirm just a little bit.
Dipping her hands into the water, she started to clean the dishes and let her mind switch into a trance. Thinking about the baby, their own little bundle of joy that was just a few months away, a gift that was so close to unwrapping she ticked off the mental check list of things they needed to do before the baby was born. The nursery needed done, that was the main thing. Baby clothes needed bought (Kim was going to take up knitting but she couldn't get the hang of it – perhaps another problem motherhood would solve) and of course, the most important thing – the name. That was her favourite thing about this experience so far (even more than the scans) was lying in bed late at night with Mark, hand on her tummy and flicking through the book of baby names, or trolling the internet for ideas. Mark had found one he liked on a website for Greek mythology and near resolute that this was what the baby was going to be called. Even thinking about it now made her laugh. He'd sat bolt upright, and snapped his fingers.
Mark. "I got it."
Kim laughed. "I bet you don't. But OK, go on then. I'll indulge you."
Mark. "I'm telling you, I 100% have it. You're going to hear it and think 'Mark, my god. You are right. You should be in charge of naming all the babies in the world from now. You should be Chief Baby Namer."
Smiling, Kim gave her best fake supportive stare. "Of course you will. Now are you going to continue to pontificate or are you going to tell me the name?"
"Pontificate? That's a big word for such a dainty little lady like you," Mark teased.
She hit him with a pillow then, knowing that he liked to wind her up like this. "Anymore of that and I'll pontificate you. Now are you going to tell me the name?"
He shifted, faced her straight on the bed and stared her in the eyes. "OK. You ready?"
"I'm sure I am."
Mark smiled. "OK. We're going to name our baby, wait for it, Andromeda. Andi for short."
The name hung in the air. Kim just looked at her husband, his big eyes pleading. "Well?"
Kim reached over and took the laptop from him. "Yeah I think you've had enough googling tonight."
"Come on. We can have a little Greek mythology set. Andromeda, Medusa and little Zeus."
She laughed so hard then that she thought she might break into early labour as he grabbed her and threw her back on the bed laughing and kissed her. It was a nice memory and she looked at those moments with such fondness that it was almost enough to convince her to name the baby Andromeda in order to remember the laughter and the kisses every time she called on her child. Common sense prevailed of course. Mark was always a little left field with names.
A scuffling, squawking and thumping noise from the porch distracted her from her trance and put her hazy eyed trip down memory lane to and end as she went to investigate. She knew it would be the cat, (it always was) and he started scratching on front of the door. From the sound of it, he had decided to bring them home a present, which usually came in the form of a field mouse or a robin red breast and always prompted the same response from Mark. "I wish he'd just get us a gift card." Not a joke that was all that funny but he'd worn her down with it that she couldn't help but giggle just a little whenever he said it. Approaching the front door, she could see through the frosted glass the outline of their cat standing over something that lay still, confirming her suspicions that it was indeed a little bird. However, opening the door, Kim took a step back and yelped out. In place of where she expected to see a robin or a mouse was a single, dead magpie. It lay there, it's black and white plumage stained with red and the blue green gloss of its tail feathers surrounded the dead bird in tatters. The cat looked from Kim to the bird curiously, wondering if she was happy with his gift. Kim simply stood and stared, her hand moving like a reflex to her baby-bearing belly. She wasn't the superstitious sort but even a tableau of this nature on her doorstep made her feel a little nauseous. It's just the pregnancy. Delayed morning sickness. She tried to convince herself. Pushing her worries to the back of her mind, Kim knew she had to clean it up before Mark got home, because he was the superstitious type. Pulling on a pair of yellow marigolds, Kim bent down to pick up the bird but before she could wrap her hand over the dead creature the cat had pounced forward, picked the bird up in his mouth and bounding off and out of sight. Kim watched him go and continued to stare as he found a little shading under the bush and plunged his teeth into the bird's chest and tore out the innards before ripping off the head. Tearing her gaze away, Kim shut the door and stepped back into the house, feeling a damn sight less calm than she had been moments ago. Throwing the marigolds into the cupboard, she returned to the kitchen, plunging her hands into the hot soapy water to soak off the bird, despite not having laid a finger on it she felt like the poor things blood was on her hands. As she washed, she tried to shake it out of her mind, the surrounding cloud of dark thoughts and worries. She wasn't superstitious but for some reason, this had shaken her a little. Was it a bad omen? About the baby? Something else? No. It couldn't be and it wasn't. It was just a cat being a cat, that's all. Nothing more than—
"Ow!" Kim retreated her hand from the basin as the water turned red. She'd slit her hand on a piece of broken glass, not that she remembered any glasses or mugs smashing as she washed them. Quickly, she ran it under the tap and wrapped it in a towel as she found the first aid kit and patched herself up. Emptying the basin into the sink, she gingerly picked up the piece of glass and tossed it in the bin. What a strange morning. She thought. But she could dwell on the thought no longer as she looked at the time and realized she had to leave for the hospital to make the scan in time.
Giving the sink a quick rinse, Kim put the rest of the dishes away and turned to give the baby scan on the picture one last look and a good luck kiss as she had developed a habit of doing. But it wasn't there. Frantic, she searched the kitchen high and low for the picture of her little baby. It had been there just seconds before, just before the whole incident with the magpie and the broken glass. Breathing, Kim forced herself to be calm. The picture would be there somewhere. And that's when she saw the corner of it poking out from under the fridge. It probably slipped under there in her commotion to patch up her cut. Bending down, Kim picked the baby scan back up and put it back in its place and gave it a little kiss. But before she turned to leave the kitchen, the sight of something out of the window staring back at her caused her to pause and look out. There, perched on the garden fence and staring into the kitchen was one, single magpie. Kim let her gaze fix on it for a few moments. There was something about the way it looked at her, like it was looking at her. After a minute, Kim forced herself to break eye contact with the bird and shake herself back into reality. She was being crazy. Maybe it was the hormones. Or maybe it was something else. No. It was the hormones. Her anxiety levels had increased due to the pregnancy that was probably it. She was looking for signs of things that weren't there. She'd ask the Doctor about it during the scan. Grabbing her jacket and keys from the kitchen's table, Kim started to head out of the kitchen and make her way out of the house to head to the hospital. Before leaving the kitchen though, she took one last look out of the kitchen window to see the magpie on the garden fence. But where the magpie had been moments before, perched on the wood and staring back at her, was nothing but thin air. Shaking any thoughts from her mind, Kim stepped out of the kitchen, out of the house and into the car, not giving the very strange events of her morning a single, second thought.
Part 1: The Strangeness of Fredrick Street - Chapter Two
In Chapter Two, we travel to Fredrick Street to meet the residents and their perfect life. But is all as it seems?
2
Sarah's feet crunched the soft gravel as she jogged gently into the drive, finishing her morning run. Leaning forward, palms resting on her thighs, she started to feel the thin blanket of sweat that the morning run had wove on her back; like the foil for the runner who had just finished the marathon. Glancing down at her watch, she smiled. It was 7:45 and she'd just smashed her personal best. Not a bad start to the morning. Maybe even a perfect one. Unclasping her sports bottle from her running belt, Sarah drank, the liquid was like a mini-waterfall wetting the dry rocks at the back of her throat. She felt good, like she did every morning. This was pretty much her routine every day (except a Sunday which was sacred for a quick morning cupcake before a walk with the dogs) but it never got old how good she felt. Looking around the street, each house semi-identical save the few personality flourishes from their individual owner, she could feel the calm of the early morning just on the brink of disturbance. It was one of the reasons she liked to get up so early; she liked rising with the morning and feeling the first weak rays of light struggle to conjure up a little warmth. That, and she had always found that when you woke up before everyone else there was a smaller chance that they could ruin your day from the start. It was something her father used to say.
"Get up before the world honey. Because by 11 O'clock, chances are strong that somebody will have ruined your day." She liked to heed her father's advice and it hadn't steered her wrong yet.
Letting her earplugs dangle and pump the surrounding air with a little music from her running playlist, she took in Fredrick Street. She breathed in the white picket fences and the front lawns as smooth as the icing on a wedding cake. The road looked fresh and free of cracks, as if it had only been laid this week. There was a cloudless sky overhead and the sun shone down, as it did most days, on the rows of houses like a family would their properties on a Monopoly board. It was, quite simply put, sheer perfection. Dreamland 101.
It was just over a year since they'd moved in, Morgan, her and the girls, but some days it felt just like yesterday. Today was no different. It had been a no-brainer really, the house had come on the market at a cut-price & they'd always dreamed of growing up in a little cul-de-sac where the kids could play in the garden, ride their bikes down the street and everyone waved at them in the morning. Regular house dinner parties, book clubs and civilised living with a civilised neighbourhood. Most times, when people came to live out in one of these little pockets of Suburbanity, away from all their family and friends and the memories of their past it was because they were running from something. But for them it wasn't the case. Moving to Fredrick Street, they were running toward something. A brighter future, the one they had dreamed of, complete with their picket fences and BBQ's on a Sunday. It was perfect.
Her jog down memory lane was just about complete when she saw one of the neighbours from across the street (you could see them all really, there only was the 12 rows of houses in this little slice of Suburban Solitude). It was Kim. She was taking out the bins. Sarah waved and Kim flashed a smile before making her way toward her. Watching Kim cross the street, Sarah noticed the slight sashay in the way her body led her forward, still looking so glamorous without a dot of make-up and her morning sweats on. She had the looks a movie star would most likely kill for and, being that Kim was a movie star, she half wondered if this wasn't the case. In a past life, Sarah was sure she would have been hit with that sickening and unpleasant rush of jealously, followed by a crippling guilt and anxiety about judging another human. Jealousy was nothing but an ugly shade on a person, even on the nicest of people, which Sarah considered herself to be. She was sure that jealously would grip the nicest person tighter because they don't know what to do with it and don't understand what it is. It was nothing but the mind playing tricks on you, because it doesn't understand life (and love) the way the heart does. Sad really. But it was OK, because Sarah wasn't the jealous type.
"Morning Sarah. Day and a half am I right?" said Kim.
There was a twang to the way Kim spoke, like she was trying out all the accents she'd acquired at acting school all at once. Sarah, still a little breathless, opened up her arms and breathed in.
"Hell of a day to be alive Kim. Although every day is like that around here, am I right?" said Sarah.
Kim nodded. "Better believe it. Think it'll hold for tonight?"
Sarah took a little glance skyward and squinted at the sun, more for show than any weather reading ability she had, and nodded.
"I say it will, we've not had a bad day in a couple of weeks, Mother Nature's not let us down yet. You guys coming?"
"Wouldn't miss it. 7.30?"
Sarah nodded. "On the button."
She paused, wanting to frame the question so as not to broadcast any party host insecurities, but Kim seemed to guess and gave her that movie star smile.
"Relax, Sarah. Everyone will turn up. It's a nice thing, celebrating us all moving in. And who doesn't love a free BBQ?"
"I've not seen The Hendricks or The Murphy's for a while. You heard from them?"
Kim shook her head. "Not seen either, but I'm sure they got your flyer. Just relax. It'll go swimmingly."
Sarah smiled. "You've never seen Morgan try and cook a burger on the grill. If it's not tasty, it'll at least be entertaining."
Kim laughed and started to walk away. "I'm sure he'll do fine. See you tonight." And with that, she sauntered back across the street, her hips moving back and forward like the pendulum on a grandfather clock.
Sarah almost regretted suggesting the idea of the BBQ now that the day was upon them. It was a year since the Fredrick Street housing estate had been finished and opened up for them all to move in. Well, all 12 of the finished houses anyway. There were still a large number of the secluded community homes to be built and the current inhabitants of Fredrick Street were anxious to meet their new neighbours, each and every one of them hoping the newbies wouldn't disturb their tranquil life. Although recently, it had seemed that all work on the unfinished houses had stopped and they were all now living a stones throw from a construction site. She had hoped that the houses would have been finished and tonight's anniversary celebrations would double-up as a welcome party. Regardless, Sarah thought it would be a nice thing for all the current residents to get together, raise a glass (for her a non-alcoholic cocktail – she wasn't putting on hold her clean living, not even for this) and celebrate the day they all met and started this chapter of their lives. So far, she'd only had RSVP's from 5 of the other residents. The Hendricks, The Murphys, the young newlyweds a few doors down (Pete and Liz Guthrie), Old Lady Charles from round the corner, Mr. and Mrs. Kingston and Gordon the Gopher (on account that he was the handy man of the neighbourhood) had all so far failed to get in touch. Perhaps they were too busy or not interested. Either way, Sarah was understandably anxious as to her hosting abilities and the lack of response for tonight wasn't doing much to fight her insecurities. First world problems she thought and shrugged the thoughts from her mind as easy as they'd come, replacing them with thoughts of how fantastic the night was going to go.
Tearing away from the early morning calm, Sarah made her way back into the house ready for the chaos of the day to begin and into the kitchen to get the breakfast ready for the kids. The school run was a pain for some mothers, but not for Sarah, particularly today when it would take her mind off her worries for later on. It was the second reason she loved getting up so early. She got the chance to spend time with the kids before they went to school; kids incidentally that she never thought she would have. It's not that she felt like she loved her children more than the other mothers who griped at the school gates or was a better mother because she didn't use a nose peg to clean a shitty nappy but because she never felt the desire to moan about the things her kids made her do everyday. She never acted or felt like it was something she didn't want to be a part of. They were a gift as far she was concerned; a cheesy cliché but one she liked to roll out anyway. As Sarah prepared the lunches, she thought that some days she lived only for them. They were the centre of her little universe, and one of the main motivations behind her fitness regimes was the desire to be around long enough for them to grow up and start a family of their own. She smiled at the thought that in 10 or 20 years time, it might be the mother of their children doing what she was doing now; a thought that filled her with an enormous amount of hope and sunshine that shone stronger than the rays outside.
The breakfast bar armed and ready; Sarah retreated to the bathroom for a quick shower and gave her kids a little shout as she went, smiling as she heard the familiar groans of people who'd fallen in love with their duvets over night and didn't want part from them. It was the same start to the day she always had and something she wouldn't change for the world.