Write a story!

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pete9012S
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Re: Write a story!

Post by pete9012S »

...the time has come to brief the Find Outers about the sleeper placed in Peterswood as a decoy for the last nine years?"

"Are you sure Frederick?" asked the Chief Super."I took you into my confidence when you worked out who the sleeper was due to your exceptional ability to see through disguises.But your friends may be shocked to discover that someone they have known, talked to,seen and even sometimes mocked everyday is really an undercover operative?"

" I understand your concerns entirely." sympathised Fatty."But I promise if I tell the Find Outers about this,they will not reveal what I tell them to anyone else."
"What about Goon's nephew Ernest?" asked the Inspector."Can he be trusted too?"

"I'm not so sure about Ern,Sir." said Fatty."Especially in view of who the undercover operative is!"
"Well I will leave Ern to your good judgement Frederick.I will be in Peterswood in a few days on an erm business matter,so maybe I could drop in on you all at your shed and have a chat with you altogether?"

"That would be super Sir."agreed Fatty."Right.See you then Frederick." Said Chief Inspector Jenks and finished the call.

Fatty lost no time in arranging a meeting with the Find Outers.When they were ensconced in their cosy shed he began to brief them.

"Listen," he began."Do you remember when I first came to Peterswood and we used to live in that first house?"
"Ooh yes." said Bets.
"Well,since I have lived here with you we have got to know just about everybody in Peterswood.But there is someone here who is not what they seem.No one would ever suspect that they were anything other than what they appeared.
But Inspector Chief Superintendent Jenks has given me permission to tell you that..............
" A kind heart always brings its own reward," said Mrs. Lee.
- The Christmas Tree Aeroplane -

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carpediem
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Re: Write a story!

Post by carpediem »

Courtenay wrote:Is this getting into things one normally wouldn't read in an Enid Blyton story?? :shock:
Good comment, Courtenay.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

As the others crowded around Fatty to hear his startling news there was a sharp knock on the shed door.

“Who is it?” called Fatty cautiously.

“It’s your mother, dear. Can you please come outside for a moment?”

Fatty slipped out the door and spoke to his mother. After a long conversation he reappeared to inform the Find Outers that Mrs Hilton wished to talk to them straightaway.

The Five left the cosiness of Fatty’s shed and jumped on their bicycles and rushed over, with Buster panting alongside. Within three minutes they reached the Hiltons and quietly entered the house. They were shown into the drawing room by the parlour maid and were met there by Mrs Hilton.

She stood there with the school photo in her hands. “Sit down children. Yes, you too Bets. I want you all to hear this.”

“Thirty years ago this photo was taken. In fact, two were taken that afternoon within minutes of each other. The photographer wasn’t quite sure if the first photo had worked. As it turned out, it did, but I don’t know what happened to these first copies or who got them. It was a difficult time. A number of the children in that photos lost their fathers in WW1. Britain was going through a difficult time. But that was nothing to what this boy, here, was going through.

Mrs Hilton pointed to a shy, retiring boy in the third row. “He was from the German royal family. They had fled Germany at the end of the war and had eventually settled in the UK in Peterswood.”

“We …. we made life difficult for him said Mrs Hilton, her eyes welling up. He was lonely and scared and we …. well we ostracised him and had nothing to do with him. Nobody played with him. No one talked to him and some of the older boys, who all lost their fathers in the war …. Tupping, Goon, Young Nosey, Mrs Lamb’s brother, Twit the baker-boy, Young Lad Tallery, all made his life miserable. So this photo, you see, brings me happy memories and sad memories. Can I ask you, why did you want it?”

Fatty immediately stood up and spoke confidently. “We have the first version of it, Mrs Hilton. Here it is. We were surprised that Larry and Daisy’s mother was in the first version and not the second.”

“Hmm … something odd happened that day”, recalled Mrs Hilton, “that she told me about. After the first photo was taken she was called away. It was to collect a letter from the headmaster, and she was asked to post it. She said it looked very official, and was addressed to a Herr Rheinholtz. But the janitor intercepted her and said he would post it.”

"Who was the janitor, mother?", asked Bets. "He must be very old now."

“Oh yes, dear, replied her mother. He’s over 90 now but still lives in Peterswood. In Holly Lane, I believe, opposite the Meadows.”

After a further few minutes of polite conversation the Five respectfully left and rushed upstairs to Pip’s playroom, where Buster enthusiastically greeted each one of them.

“Phew! This mystery deepens”, said Fatty. “Let’s recap what we know.”

“At least two men are in Peterswood, and they are interested in knowing who are in that old school photo. They may be policeman, or British Secret Service, or they may not. There seems to be a connection with the Lambs’ house in Holly Lane. Or at least, with one of the Lambs. Maybe they know Mrs Lamb’s brother, who was in the photo. They also seem to be in contact with Goon, who is also in the photo. There is also the question of the little German boy and what happened to him. Is he still alive and here in the UK? In Peterswood? But there is also something else I have to tell you that the Chief Super gave me permission to say. There is a sleeper in Peterswood!”

“A sleeper?”, asked Bets. “You mean, there’s a person in Peterswood who is constantly asleep?”

“Don’t be so silly, Bets”, teased Pip. “A sleeper is someone who is a spy but who is not active, and may not have been active for many years. Yet, they be ‘woken’ at any moment to commence their spying. Gosh, do you really know who it is, Fatty?”

“I think so”, said Fatty confidently, “although, to be honest, the Chief Super never confirmed it. But I tell you who I think it is. “

“She was someone who should have been in the photo that day but who was absent from school. I wonder if this is why these men are so interested in this photo but, of course, they wouldn't know that she was off. I believe her nickname at school was ‘sicknote’ due to her numerous absences! Anyway, I could ask you to guess all day but you’ll never get her.”

“Who is it, the others cried excited. Do tell, Fatty!”

“Well, it is …… Miss Trimble. “

There were gasps of shock and utter disbelief. But just at that moment Buster barked and the playroom door clicked shut. The children ran to the door and opened it quietly but the person had already reached the bottom of the stairs and exited by the garden door. Slowly they followed her and saw her again as she reached the bottom of the drive. She turned left and made her way to the edge of the village but it wasn’t long before she turned into Holly Lane and walked up to the house opposite the Meadows.

So just what was Mrs Moon doing visiting the old janitor? And did she now possess hugely sensitive information?
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pete9012S
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Re: Write a story!

Post by pete9012S »

Thoughts and images swirled around Mrs Moon's mind as she made her way quietly and carefully to see the old janitor.
She had long ago seen through the thinly veiled disguise of Miss Trimble.For after all,wasn't Mrs Moon herself not exactly what she seemed.
"Hide in plain site." her grandfather had told her."That's the place where no one would expect you to be."
She remembered what her grandfather had told her about Thomas Wakley,and just what he had done to affect her family all those years ago,causing them to eventually move out of her ancestral home forever...

Amazing really.She had even been able to keep her own name Moon.No one had ever taken any real interest in her background and family life before she arrived in Peterswood with impeccable references.
She paused for a moment and remembered her life in the grand house.More of a castle really near Bolingblow and Sarchester.

But there was a reason she was here.She had a job to do.Even presenting herself as an imperfect bitter woman in this little village was all part of the plot to disarm and distract from her real objective.

She pushed open the little gate that led to the old janitor's house.She carried a small leather doctor's bag under her arm.
Inside were three items.A pair of scissors,a lump of what looked like plasticine and a copy of The Lancet,the very 1st copy dated 1823...

She knocked on the door.A weak voice shouted "Who's there? Who is it?" An excellent mimic through years of training Mrs Moon replied."It's only me,don't worry.It's Miss Trimble.I've brought something for you."

The door opened and Mrs Moon stepped into the half darkened hall and quietly closed the door behind her.
The bolts of the door where carefully slid into place and there was a slight metallic tinkle as she fastened the door's security chain and went inside.........
" A kind heart always brings its own reward," said Mrs. Lee.
- The Christmas Tree Aeroplane -

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Perce
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Re: Write a story!

Post by Perce »

Just 200 yards from Holly Lane was the village war memorial. There were few villages in Britain which didn't have one, but Peterswood's war memorial was the largest village war memorial in Britain, mainly due to the large number of names engraved on it. Goon stood silently before it, observing some of the names.

D Goon
G Goon
R Goon
W Goon

Goon had been told that his father, his older brother, and two uncles had signed up to the local Peterswood Pals Regiment, those specially constituted battalions of the British Army comprising men who had enlisted together in local recruiting drives with the promise of serving alongside family, friends, neighbours and work colleagues.

The four Goons had went off triumphantly to war, and boasted of teaching the Bosch a lesson before being back in Blighty for Christmas. These four men had captured the mood of the village and they shouted that when they got into battle at Ypres it would become known as The Goon Show. Out of the five thousand men who went over the top that day, only four didn't make it into No-Mans Land. They were the four Goons. They had been targeted by highly-skilled German snipers. The Peterswood Pals Regiment took a battering like no other during the course of the war, and few of the hundred men who signed up made it back.

The British High Command soon realised that the Peterswood Regiment had been targeted for elimination, and it was thought that there was an informant living in Peterswood who was passing intelligence reports to the Germans. An inquiry after the war confirmed this, when German papers were found which had described Peterswood as the quintessential British village, and that destroying the morale of Peterswood would lead to destroying the morale of Britain. The informant was never found, and no-one had come under suspicion.

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Mrs Moon made her way into the janitor's small parlour. "I've been expecting you, Winifred Mühne. Come and take a seat beside Fräulein Treimble and Lady Kahndling.", said the janitor. "I don't have long for this world and I wanted one last get-together of the most devastating spy ring of the Great War."

"But what of our great sleeper?", asked Mrs Moon. "The one who was our boss and who never Anglicized her name? The one who we've never met?".

"I too have never met her", said the janitor. "But I have in my possession her name, it was in a letter to be posted on the day the school photograph was taken. I intercepted the letter and her identity has been kept secret all these years, but she is soon to visit us."

At that point there was a knock on the door and Mrs Moon took off the security chain. A woman entered the cottage and came into the room.

"Jane the Parlour Maid!", everyone gasped. But, no, it wasn't Jane who was just delivering the Parish magazine.

Five minutes later the door was opened again and another visitor entered the room.

"Cookie!", everyone gasped. But, no, it wasn't Cookie, who was just doing a bit of moonlightling and selling tablet and other home-made delicacies to supplement her meagre wage from the Trotteville's.

Shortly afterwards the door opened again and a middle-aged woman entered. When Miss Trimble saw that it was just the owner of the small Peterswood dairy shop she said that they didn't need any macaroons or eclairs. But the dairy shop owner stood strangely silent.

"Eva Trottewölle, I presume", said the janitor quietly.
"Here I am, struggling for promotion, doing my very best, and every time you come along and upset the apple-cart. You're a toad of a boy, that's what you are!" [PC Goon]

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carpediem
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Re: Write a story!

Post by carpediem »

Fräulein Treimble, meanwhile, stood there pensively at the window of this little bungalow. Things were beginning to move. Although she had been prepared for being ‘woken’ at any time, it still came as a bit of a shock, even after all these years. That message trailing behind an aeroplane: "Miss T. Will you marry me? TG." was what she had been expecting, but never quite knowing when she would see it. Now she had seen it. Now it was time to act. Now, at last, they were all together.

She reflected upon her life. She had been far too good for Peterswood. Wasn’t she Cambridge educated and friends with Burgess, Blunt, Philby and MacLean. Hadn’t they regaled her with stories of privilege, and extravagance? Hadn’t they had spoken eloquently and passionately of Mother Russia? Hadn’t they had delighted her with their stories of life at Eton. But what could she contribute? 50 in a class at Peterswood Primary school? Boys who disrupted learning at every conceivable opportunity? Tupping who would laugh and laugh and then fall off his chair, much to the great amusement of his peers. Twit the baker boy with his sticky fingers, and not just when he was eating his treacle buns. Young Lad Tallery who could produce extremely loud flatulent noises - not just at will, but on demand. How could any learning possibly take place in that environment? No wonder her mother had kept her at home. But she had loved the German boy. She would do anything for him and his family.

Well, all in good time. But meantime there was the problem of Frederick Trotteville. That fat boy was too clever for his own good. Any more prying from him and she would have to ask Eva Trottewölle to deal with him. Maybe she should ask her to make Master Trotteville disappear.

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pete9012S
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Re: Write a story!

Post by pete9012S »

Our hero Fatty was however blissfully unaware of the silent,purposeful dangers being conspired against him.
He got home that night and for some reason felt unexpectedly and dreadfully tired.
He fell into a fitful,listless sleep were nightmares and reality intertwined to stir and jar his unconscious being..

He went back in his dream to the time before he first moved to Peterswood.
His Mother & Father hadn't realised he had overheard them talking about him when he had crept downstairs in their old house in Cholsey to get a glass of water.

"What are we to do with Frederick dear?" he had heard his mother ask his Father.
"I really don't know." his Father had replied."We could move to another village.But this really must be the last time.We've moved twice already for Frederick and it just hasn't worked."

"You're right,of course." replied Frederick's Mother."But let's give him one last chance to try and settle and make friends somewhere shall we darling?"
"All right." replied her husband."But this is definitely our last move.Do you have anywhere in mind? As long as I can get into the city fairly reasonably by train I don't mind where we go."

"What about Peterswood where I grew up?" replied his long suffering wife."I bet lots of people I grew up with are still there,and I hear the daffodils grow practically all year round there due to the Thames Gulf Stream Micro Climate?"

"That sounds fine dear." replied Mr Trotteville."I will leave it to you to make all the necessary arrangements,now let me just let the cat in and we'll head up to bed...."

Fatty scarpered quickly and silently back up the stairs.Amazingly so for someone of his not inconsiderable bulk and girth.
He lay back on the pillow and reflected.He knew he was a 'difficult' child for his parents.
An only child.One gifted with an amazing imagination.Kind,generous and yet not without faults and flaws...bragging,tall stories,practical joking,acting superior to other children...yes he had certainly given his Mother& Father a hard time.
Now they were to move again to try and make him settled and accepted somewhere.Well this time he must make a go of it and make it succeed.
He loved his parents dearly and as he drifted off to sleep he made a silent vow that this would be his last move.He would make his parents proud of him.
He thought of his all time hero Sherlock Holmes.He would be his benchmark & guide.
He would emulate his hero's brilliance,fair play,kindness,goodness in all his dealings with others....
These thoughts and many others whirled around in young Fredericks brain that night back in 1942....
" A kind heart always brings its own reward," said Mrs. Lee.
- The Christmas Tree Aeroplane -

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Farwa
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Re: Write a story!

Post by Farwa »

But he was jerked out of his sleep by a sudden sound. He got up, startled. The clock was struck one time - so it was 1:AM! Had the sound been part of his dreams - or was it reality?
A day spent without a smile is a day lost.
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pete9012S
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Re: Write a story!

Post by pete9012S »

It was the sound of a horn.In his sleepy state Fatty couldn't quite distinguish whether it was a car horn or the horn used by Major Shifter to rouse the members of the Peterswood Fox-hunting Society.

Intrigued,he crept over to the curtains and pulled them back to see what was going on.
It was a full moon and it was almost as bright as day down in the lane below.
Over to Fatty's left he could just catch a glimpse of the river. It looked calm and serene, bathed in the soft,silvery moonlight.
To his right he noticed the glow of the workman's brazier.A lone watchman was huddled over it for warmth like a character out of a Dickens novel.

But there was no indication what had made the noise.Fatty slipped on his warmest dressing gown and a pair of old slippers and crept downstairs to go into the lane to investigate further...should he take Buster or not?

He decided not to take him in case he started to bark the place down and wake the whole village.
He crept silently downstairs,opened the front door and tiptoed gingerly towards the lane....
" A kind heart always brings its own reward," said Mrs. Lee.
- The Christmas Tree Aeroplane -

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