PAMELA AND THE ENCHANTED ROOM

  My grandmother used to tell me that in the late seventies lived, in a beautiful house on the outskirts of London, the Henderson couple with their two daughters: Corinne and Amy.

     Mr. Henderson, because of his work as a trader, spent long periods of time away from home therefore it was almost always only his wife and daughters in the house.

     The two Henderson sisters were nothing alike. Corinne, tall, beautiful, slim, blonde- haired, a little bossy with her sister contrasted with this one, seven years younger, well, she was short, plump and very funny. Being fourteen years old corinne didn't find sharing her room to-be much fun, althought it was a huge and very pretty one. The walls, painted in soft yellow, gave a pleasant feeling of brightness and joy; the roof and the skirting boards were white There were two big walnut wardrobes which were parallel arranged with the two beds and in front desks and some shelves. Not one single doll would fit on Amy's shelves (she also had them on top of the wardrobe) and on Corinne's shelves were study books. Between the two beds there was an Indian rug gift from her father, and a bedside table with a lamp. The two windows were large, white and covered by curtains of the same color.

     What happened at the end of March of that year was something very strange and fantastic and for the very sensitive minds extremely childish.

     That Friday evening, it was raining in London and both of the Henderson sisters were in their room. Corinne was studying for the next week's exam, Amy, on the other hand, was playing with her dolls.

-Would you shut up already, Amy!

-I am talking to my doll.

-Again?

-Yes -the smart and talkative girl answered seriously. -Like usual, Pamela didn't make her bed today, and I was telling her off, isn't that what you always do to me when  I'm not making mine?

     Corinne, who didn't share the same preference as her sister for the dolls, didn't understand how Amy was having such a good time with them. Sometimes she would think about the complex and strange children's world, where dreams and fantasies could become reality.

-She's my most troublesome doll - said Amy seriously.

- How silly! -she said to herself. -Look, don't distract me as these math exercises are very difficult. This chapter of geometric progressions is giving me a realll hard time.

-And what are the geometric progressions? - asked Amy.

      For a moment her sister looked at her in surprise."And why would this girl want to know about the meaning of geometrical progressions!" But she wanted to explain it as best she could.

- I don't know how to explain it to you, Amy. Sometimes definitions can be more difficult than the exercises. Let's see, let me think -Corinne recalled for a moment - Let's see, let's see...yes, I know, look: given a sequence of numbers, we must discover what relationship exists between them. For example, if we have the numbers 1,2,4,8 and 16, the progression is double.

-Double? -she cried out in surprise.

-Yes, double.

-The strange things you study. The truth is that it seems quite difficult.

- Tell me about it.

-Study Corinne, study -she encouraged her- I will talk more quietly to them.

-Thank you! What a great afternoon awaits me - she sighed anxiously.

     The rest of the day passed normally. when bedtime came, both sisters said goodnight; but Amy also greeted her dolls with these words.

-Sleep well! See you tomorrow!


                                                                   *      *      *

     The next day, the rain wouldn't cease. Both sisters remained at home and in the evening returned to their room. They did the same thing they did the day before.

-Corinne, get some rest, dear, -said Mrs. Henderson, of enormous physical resemblance to her eldest daughter.

- I can't mother. This exam is nightmarish and it's giving me a hard time. Just look at the exercises! And you know that next week I am busy with the preparation of the theater play that we're doing at school.

-You're right; but if you would change the activity and distract yourself a little, it would be easier for you to resume your studies.


- Would you like to play w'ith me, Corinne? -Amy asked hopefully.

-No, you annoying girl -she shouted.

-But it's so much fun. Today we will prepare a great snack. Pamela already has permission to come. Look at the plates and mugs mum brought for me the other day Aren't they pretty? You would have so much fun...

-I don't want to play with the dolls. With my intelligence that's the last thing I want do.

     And immediately she got up from her armchair and left the room for a moment.

-Honestly, mother, I do not understand why she doesn't want to play.

-You must understand, Amy, that not everyone has the same preferences. Don't bother
your sister anymore and help her with whatever you can. Alright?

-Alrighiiiiit -she answered sighing.

     And like this they spent another afternoon.Lafer they had dinner and after staying for a little while in the living room they headed to their room. Poor Corinne was exhausted.

-How are you? -said Amy a little worried.

-Tired, very tired -she replied, I think I'll sleep immediately. It feels so good to be in bed.

-See you tomorrow, Corinne. May you have sweet dreamsl

-See you tomorrow, little sister!


     A radiant day sunrised. It was about timel When Corinne woke up, she didn't want to get out of bed. It felt so good being in it, without doing anything, loafing: but she had to get up because she knew what was waiting for her: to study for the math exam.

-I am still so sleepy! -exclaimed Corinne while she lazily lifted her hands.

     Leaning her head to her left, she took notice of Amy who was also in bed with a somewhat puzzled expression. She had her eyes wide open and her hands behind her head. She never saw her like that.

- Have you woke up already?

     But her sister did not answer her.

-I am talking to you, Amy -she said again raising the tone of her voice.

     Amy was quiet, baffled and shocked by what she was seeing.

- Can you know what are you looking at? -she shouted at her to see if she responded.

-At Pamela- she finally answered without showing any reaction.

-Who?

-Pamela, my doll. She's on your top shelf.

     Corinne could not believe what her eyes were seeing. All her books were on the floor perfectly ordered in four columns and on the top shelf, in the centre, a doll.

- But can you tell me what have you done, Amy? -she said angrily This is not funny. I'll tell mum.

     The young lady got out wearing a nightgown and headed to her mother's bedroom. Few moments later the two of them came.

-Amy, why have you done this for?

-Do what, mother?

-You know what. All these books are on the floor and that doll up there. Don't you know you could have fallen from the ladder and hurt yourself.

-But I haven't done anything. I was sleeping and when I woke up it was already up there.

-You're a liar, Amy

-No, mummy.

-Well, -said Mrs. Henderson, -what we could do now is calm down a bit and forget about this matter, alright? With such a beautiful day it would be a pity not to go fo a walk. The truth is I don't know what could have happened -continued Mrs. Henderson looking at her youngest daughter somewhat archly.

     When they returned from their walk, around one o'clock, before eating, Amy went back to her room, well, she was quite intrigued by what she had seen. She looked again at Corinne's shelf and made a strange, doubtful face ... but finally she thought she guessed. It didn't take long for her sister to come.

-What are you doing, Amy?

     This one, who continued looking at Corinne's shelf, remained silent. Her sister, thinking her sister was feeling sorry, told her somehow patiently.

-Looking at Pamela again? The things one has to suffer for a sister. It's fine! I forgiiiiive you. Come on, let's take her out of there and place the books.

     But Amy didn't move. Her face shorled no emotion and a phrase that her sister wanted to hear came out.

-Look Corinne, there are two more dolls.

     The young lady moved her head slowly towards the shelf. No, what was happening couldn't be true. There were two more dolls, each one next to the first one.

-Once again I am going to tell mother about this - said Corinne furiously This is going too far.

     And grabbing the ladder from the room she went to the kitchen where her mother was preparing lunch.

- Mother, Amy placed two more dolls in my room. Could you tell me what's the matter with her? What game is she playing?

-I don't know -she answered while taking offthe apron.

-Don't you find her behavior a little... strange lately.

-I don't see something in particular going on with her.

-Well, if it wasn't Amy who put them, you tell me who did.

-I will talk to her right now, Corinne.

     Both of them went up to the girl's room. Mrs. Henderson was already slightly surprised.

-Amy -her mother told her off, -what you're doing to your sister is not nice.

-But I haven't done anything to her, mother- she answered sadly.

-But I haven't done anything to her, but I haven't done anything to her -Corrine said angrily - this is all you can say. So tell me, who was it? Just wait until father comes back from his trip.

-The best thing we could do now is to pick up the dolls and put them back in place. And the books too. Where is the ladder?

-In the kitchen, mother. I took it down so Amy couldn't climb it.

-Good, well, bring it back again.I am going to my room for a second. Amy, come with me.

     Corinne went to the kitchen and when she came back with the ladder, her mother and sister were already in the room.

-I'm bringing the ladder. So, shall we start?

     This time, neither Mrs. Henderson nor her little daughter said a word. Both of them looked towards the shelf in astonishment.

-What's happening now?

-Look for yourself - answered her mother, who suddenly sat on one of the beds, very scared and nervous.

     On the shelf there were nine dolls of the same style.

-Mom, I think I'm going to faint, - Corinne said very upset.

-Me too.

-I don't understand why do you have to faint? -Amy asked not understand anything.

-Don't you realize that there are more dolls now than before and none of us put them there. How could they got up? -said her mother.

-Well they did -she replied with conviction.

-But that can't be possible, sweetie. Don't you see they're only dolls and they can't move like us.

-That's what you always say to me; but I know they can do it. If not, who?

     Mrs. Henderson went for a moment down in the study to make a phone call. Within five minutes she ordered her daughters to come down to the living room and when they arrived they sat on the couch.

-Who are we waiting for? -Corinne asked.

-One of your grandmother's acquaintances. Ms. Prudence - her mother answered.

-The medium?

-And how do you know that? -she responded in surprise. We never talked about her in front of you.

-I once heard you talking with grandma about this lady. I don't like having a psychic, witch or whatever she is in my room.

-You'll change your mind when you'll meet her. She's a serious lady and very well- mannered.

     After a few minutes the doorbell rang.

- I am sure it's her, weagreed on two o'clock.

     Mrs. Henderson went to the door and opened it. She could see a tall, thin, very thin woman, with gray hair tied in a bun behind her head. Prudence, which was not her real name, belonged to one of the most distinguished families in London. Her great sensitivity was discovered by another medium and she turned out to be much better than her discoveter, at least people thought so.

     She was dressed in a gray robe too large for her. She looked very refined and her voice turned out to be as childish as nice.

-Mrs. Henderson?

-Yes, that's me. You must be Ms. Prudence, am I right?

-Indeed.

-And these two lovely girls are your daughters if I'm not mistaken.

-Yes, they are.

     The girls were already up from the sofa. Corinne was observing curiously the newcomer. She could not restrain herself from asking:

-Are you a witch?

-Corinne, your manners! -her mother got upset.

-Oh, Mrs. Henderson, don't you worry, I am used to it. No, I am not a witch, child. I just dedicate myself to spiritualism.

-How scary!

-You don't have to be afraid of the dead but of the living, dear.

     Amy remained silently. She didn't understand a thing they were talking about.

-A bit of coffee, Prudence?- Mrs. Henderson said.

-No, thank you -she kindly replied -Please, I would like you to explain to me what exactly happened in this room.

     The explanation of the events lasted approximately ten minutes. Prudence summarized them aloud:

-So, they always appear on Corinne's shelf when no one is in the room. The time of the doll's appearance ofthe doll is not precise a day, an hour...

     The woman then turned to Amy:

- How many dolls do you have altogether in the room?

-Eighty-three, Mrs.

     Prudence exclaimed enthusiastically:

-Brilliant; brilliant, the event might be repeating.

     It was a little curious that Amy had so many dolls, but not all of them were hers. Some were from family members, who when they got older didn,t know what to do with them and gave them to her. Others were presents from her friends and acquaintances who knew about her great love for them, others, simply, were bought by her mother or father.

     They were of different styles and eras, and from almost all parts of the world. Big and small; antique and modern. Pamela was her latest acquisition. There was no doubt that Amy was a doll's fan. The truth was that the room impressed greatly with so many dolls all together.

-So at first just one appeared - the woman continued more calmly -then two more which makes three, and now, nine.

     And suddenly Corinne shouted anxiously.

-Mother, mother, for sure...for sure now there will be twenty-seven dolls! Triple!

- Twenty-seven? -replied her mother in surprise.

-The progressions! -Amy exclaimed happily.

-Which progressions? -asked prudence.

-The ones I was studying in the room when all this began, I told you, the progressions chapter, the geometric progressions.

- I see.

-I gave an example to my sister which came of double and now -she started weeping,-I am sure it will become...triple.

     Corinne started crying.

-Calm down, calm down, child, everything will sort out. Prudence is here to help us.

-Of course, everything has an explanation -this one cheered her up.

-I suppose -she answered still weeping.

-Well - Prudence said with determination -it's time to see this famous room, isn't it?

-Yes -said Mrs. Henderson resigned -Come on, girls, give me your hand and let's walk Prudence. It's over here. Follow me, please.

     The four of them slowly climbed the stairs that leaded to the first floor. Mrs. Henderson said with certain fear:

-It's the back room, on the right.

-Would you like to go with me? -asked Prudence casually.

-Yes, I will -Amy said without having any doubts.

-Well, well, it looks like the small one is not scared.

-Neither am I -replied Corinne already calmer.

-Well then! Let's all go inside and come what may- Mrs. Henderson said.

-Ready? -Prudence asked in a very soft voice.

     And she opened the door... Indeed, there were more dolls.

-Let's count them -said Mrs. Henderson

-There's no need, mother, I am sure there will be twenty-seven. They already have taken another shelf.

-Yes, there are twenty-seven -replied Prudence who quickly counted them. Corinne exploded hysterically. The impact was tremendous for her.

- I'm changing the room right now! It's haunted! Possessed!

-Calm down, my child!

-To calm down? -she shouted. As soon as we get distracted eighty one dolls will come into sight, three times twenty-seven.

     Prudence, who remained silent, asked Mrs. Henderson with certain sadness:

-Could the girls leave the room for a moment, please? There's no need for them to go down, they can stay here in the hallway. It's that I don't want them to hear what I am about to tell you.

-Come, girls, it will only be a minute-she said as she looked a bit puzzled at Prudence.

     This closed the door softly and asked in a melancholic tone of voice:

- Has there been a murder in this house before you lived in it?

     Mrs. Henderson remaind petrified at this question; but got relieved by her answer.

- No. We were the first to live here.

     Prudence began to move slowly around the room while she inspected. She placed her hand on a beautiful chiffonier..

-Perhaps the presence of a creature who would like to talk to your daughters.

-I don't believe to Corinne -Mrs. Henderson said seriously .Unlike Amy, my daughter does not like playing with dolls.

-But they showed up on Corinne's shelves - she immediately answered while staring at her face. Could you be kind and leave me alone for a few minutes, Mrs.? And don't get scared, please. I am going to see what is happening ... in this room.

     When Prudence was alone, she closed her eyes, took very deep breaths and said loudly, in a tone between theatrical and transcendent:

- "Show yourself, show yourself creature! - Prudence understands you and begs you to manifest!"

She raised her arms and her body looked like butterfly wings that would shake at any moment.

-Your games must stop! Do you want something? Are you in danger? Tell me! Answer! Show yourself, I am telling you, manifest at once ...!

     Outside, in the hallway, the three looked at each other quite astonished. At the end Corinne tolerate it anymore and asked her mother:

-She's not crazy, isn't she?

-No, honey; although, when she works, she might seem crazy.

-I'm getting tired -Amy said -There is no spirit in our room.

     And in a clear voice, slowly, leaning on each syllable, she added:

-There were my dolls.

- If you repeat that Amy, I will not speak to you in a week, do you understand!? Corinne replied angrily.

- Could both of you shut up and wait for Mrs. Prudence to come out -their mother said
angrily while she was trying to hear what Prudence was saying.

-Sorry, mummyl

-I'm sorry too, mother. I'm so nervous that I don't know what I'm saying or doing anymore.

     Leaving the room, Prudence, a little tired, told them her impressions:

-Sorry to say, Mrs. Henderson; but I don't find any presence in this room. There is no spirit, no higher energy.

- Are you sure? asked Mrs Henderson with resignation..

-Completely. This room is free of benign and malignant spirits. I'm so sorry. I do not
know what may have happened -she sadly sentenced.

- Do you think it's a... dangerous room?

-I don't think so... no, I don't think it's dangerous.

     But from the tone of her words one could sense insecurity. Or ignorance. Then Amy wanted to talk; buts he was silent.Why, if no one would believe it!

     Mrs.Henderson walked Prudence to the hall door and said goodbye, but one could see something was on her mind. The woman was totally baflled by all of it. Then she went with her daughters to the salon and they sat down without saying anything for a few seconds. I did not know what to do.

-When your father comes will talk very seriously, girls.

-In the meantime can I sleep in other room, mother?- Corinne said.

-Certainly, my dear.


- Not me, mother -Amy said, I want to sleep in my bed. All this matter is starting to get me tired and bored. Can I go up in my room for a moment, mother?

-l don't know. Amy.

-Pleeeease- she begged her.

-Fine, but come back immediately, do you understand? -she said to her seriously.

-Yes, thank you mummy.

     Amy ran up to her room; the truth was she got tired by this matter. She closed the door wiih energy and then headed to her sister's shelves while she defiantly was saying to her dolls:

-Your game which I thought to be funny at first it's not funny anymore. My sister is very nervous because of everything that's happening and my mother is very preoccupied. If you continue with this joke I will see myself force to take drastic measures. I will give you away. And you wouldn't be together. No more games without my permission. No more surprises and behave once in for all. We are going for a walk now. I am giving you ten minutes to fix everything, if not, you know what is waiting for you.

     And that being said she once again headed to the living room. Her expression changed in that moment and she happily said to her mother.

-I already talked with them.

     Corinne made an angry face and wanted to tell her off but her mother steped in front on purpose:

-Let me see them for a moment.

     In the room the twenty-seven dolls were still there. Mrs. Henderson sadly thought
that changing the address would be the most logical thing to do. And with such a
beautiful house!

-Why don't we go for a walk, mother? Amy said cheerfully.

-Good idea. I think it will do good to us all. Are you coming along, Corinne ?

-Of course -she answered,-I am not thinking of staying here by myself.

-You will see how everything will work out, don't you worry- the little one simply insisted.

-Come, let's go already, girls. I am so nervous! This is worse than a nightmare.

     The three of them left the house and took a long walk to calm down. The fear took control of Mrs. Henderson and her eldest daughter. A fear that w-as grow-ing. She did not understand how Amy was so cheerful, so happy, perhaps because she was not aware, like she was, of what was really happening.


                                                                            *     *      *

     Upon returning home, in the hall, Amy told them with firm voice:

- For sure the room is now perfectly tidy. Would you like come with me? Please, Mother.

-Amy, dear. I don't think anything changed.

-Why don't you never listen to me? I am telling you everything will be in its place. I
talked to them and they promised me they will tidy it up.

-Amy!

-Corinne, shut up- her mother told her off -don't make me more nervous. Well, let's go
up, honey. I don't know what to think anymore.

     Mrs. Henderson expected to once again see all the twenty-seven dolls sitting on the two shelves or worse yet, to stare at the eighty one dolls, that she no longer knew where they could fit.

-I am going to open -said Amy when they were in front of the door. And, as if it were a
game, she started to say. ready, set, gol

     And she opened the door.

     Everything, absolutely everything was in its place. Mrs. Henderson and Corinne uttered a dry and loud cry, and Amy, while shaking her head gently, said slowly and with satisfaction:

-I knew it was "they".

     And sighing she simply said to her mother:

-I am hungry.

-Hungry? -her mother answered still puzzled and scared by everything she had seen. As you wish, sweetie, but you will eat alone, in the kitchen. Your sister and I are not hungry, right Corinne?

-Yes, mother -she responded nervously. -All this was incredible. What could have happened? -And why in my room?



     When the night came and everything was peaceful, Mrs. Henderson knocked on her daughter's door and entered. She saw Corinne sleeping peacefully, so then she said goodbye, in a low voice, to Amy, who was still awake.

-Is everlthing all right, child?

-Yes, mother, everything is fine. Have a good night. See you tomorrow.

-See you tomorrow, darling.

     Mrs. Henderson headed slowly to her bedroom. She didn't understand anlthing of what had happened, anything. And sometimes it's better to forget... She ordered her daughters not to talk about this matter with nobody not even with their father, well it was a case hard to believe and comprehend.

Amy, in bed, was looking at Corinne's shelves. "The days we spent!"-she said to herself. But as she turned towards the window ... she found Pamela, who was sitting on the side of her big pillow.

-But Pamela, what are you doing here? -she said in a low voice ...-What do you want!... To forgive you?...But of course, however, you have to be a less troublesome doll. The things you and your friends made! I forbid you to do it again. I don't know from where your leadership skills came from. If I'm selling you, you say? Well, of course not silly, not you or the other dolls. How will I entertain myself then? I was forced to say that to see if you reacted once in for all. My mother and my sister were so worried. As if I didn't tell them clearly. There were my dolls.........But nothing. It's sad that sometimes grownups don't take us seriously. It is a terrible injustice.

-Who are you talking to, Amy? -said Corinne, who was half awake.

-Oh, nobody. I was talking by myself -she responded while winking her left eye at her most naughty doll.


                                                                     THE END

Thank you, Mrs. Cooper (Mark Debrest)

Some days ago, whilst out strolling with my partner, I headed for a bookshop in the old quarter of the city for two reasons; the first, because I knew that they were going to tear it down, to my great sadness, and the second, because it was one of the best in the city, or so I had been told. Upon entering that extravagant, beautiful hall of high ceilings and antique woods, I immnediately recalled, as if it were a flashback, an old bookshop and stationers which could be found in the coastal town where I would spend my summer holidays some forty years ago (San Martin Desvalles). Above all, it was that pleasant smell of wood which pleased and moved me. I immediately thought of the distinguished figure of Mrs Cooper, the owner of the establishment and former teacher at the village school, a slender woman of medium stature, whose voice and demeanour were unhurried and who almost always wore white, grey, and blue. She was some sixty years old.

     When I used to go in with my parents, for some bizarre unknown reason, just after time, I would always head to the area where the adventure stories were. At the age of eight I liked reading them, though I was not a compulsive reader, and deep down I always yearned for some pictures in them. I remember that around that time, a great collection of stories and novels with bothhad just come out and I shot over there like an arrow to examine the collection with great interest. After a while, I would tell my mum which adventure story I wanted and on the occasions that I spent too long browsing or re-reading the titles because I couldn't decide which one to buy, my patient parents would speak to Mrs Cooper's husband and then she would corre over to me with a cheeky smile.

"Any book that takes your fancy, Thomas?" She would almost always ask me the same question in the same words.

"Not yet, Mrs Cooper, although this time I think that the book "Journey to the Centre oh the Eart will be to my liking."

"I didn't know you were so adventurous."

"I'm not. I like to go for a wander to distract myself and observe things, but not foradventures. Maybe that's the reason why I have chosen this book." he answered, pleased.

"Most probably", she agreed whilst heading towards the right side of the shop. "Remernber that in this section we have other books about different things, especially biographies."

"Yes. I've already seen a few. I like biographies about important figures, especially great inventors and discoverers."

"Well, look," she said, content, "the latest one we've just received is a biography about the inventor of the lightning rod, Benjamin Franklyn. What a strange coincidence, now that they have just finished fixing the lightning rod on the church".

"Mrs Cooper" my mum said, "has Thomas found his book yet? It's just that we're in a bit of a hurry."

"l think so" she said, seeing that I was pointing to a.Julio Verne book.

"Is vour grandson Johnathan here?" I then asked her hopefully, lowering my voice.

"He'll colne next week. He also asked after you."

"He's my best friend in the village".

'He's very fond of you also. And you have similar tastes".

"Yes" I answered, "with him I never get bored in the afternoons.,,

"But your brothers and cousins are here" she said with an affectionate smile.

"It's not the same. They're older than me."

"Your neighbours are also here, the Necker brothers".

"The Necher brothers are unbearable" I said seriously. "bad mannered and very inconsiderate,
although their mother is very nice."

"That's true" said my mum, who knew her quite well".

"The other day they told me they knew a shameful secret about the village."

"Shameful?" My parents exclaimed".

"Yes" but I don't want to know it, although l know they'll end up telling me sooner or later. That's how considerate they are."

"And what could it be?" said Mr Cooper.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Thomas? Now you have a month of holidays. Maybe it's important" said Mrs Cooper.

"Maybe" I answered shortly.

"Every village has secrets and mysteries. . . " said Mr Cooper.

"...which are easier'to find out as there are less people than in cities" added Mrs Cooper.

"It would be fun to discover a huge secret" I said to all of them with a somewhat triumphant air. "But I don't see myself as Sherlock Holmes", and then I added. "who would be my
faithful sidekick, Watson?"

Everyone laughed at that. I did too. Then I looked over at the intelligent, observant and seusitive Mrs Cooper. She understood me well. I wasn't like other children, I felt different. She got it straight away and helped me during my childhood and teenage years in San Martin. She tried to make me happier in the little village. And she managed it.


Thank you, Mrs Cooper.

                                                                    THE END

mark debrest

                                             MARK DEBREST

THE THEFT OF THE GOLD RING (MARK DEBREST)

The Carmichaels had decided to visit, for a few days, Mrs Carolina Johnson-Scott, the mother of Mrs Martha Carmichael, who lived in a beautiful village close to the coast of Cornwall, in the county of Hampshire. Autumn was the season of the year which Martha, a beautiful young twenty-seven year old woman, liked most: because of the array of colours in the forests, because of the smell of damp earth, because of the breeze which was still fresh and pleasant. However, she was also aware that some afternoons the strong winds would prevent her from taking trips or even simply going for a walk. On those occasions, what she liked most was to stay in the spacious living room, next to the burning fire place, with an small group of people, talking and listening.

     On the afternoon in question, the young couple were not completely alone. A part from Mrs Martha Carmichael’s mother, Mrs Johnson-Scott, who was a widow, and Miss Valeria Brewis, her efficient housekeeper and companion, the Mardsoncousins, Georgina and Leonia, life long friends of Mrs Johnson-Scott and sexagenarians like her, were also there. These two ladies had white hair, a rosy complexion and an inoffensive appearance. Their chauffer, an athletic young man of around thirty years named Hector, was also there. There were two reasons for his presence; he had to escort the Mardson cousins to their home afterward, and, furthermore, Hector and Martha were childhood friends and had not seen each other for a long time. That afternoon, they all made their way to the spacious and charming living room.

“We have had a wonderful evening, Carolina. And it has been a pleasure to see you again, Martha, and you, inspector”, said Leonia Mardson sitting down on one of the sofas.

“As have we, needless to say”, said Martha Carmichael. “We had not seen each other for almost a year.”

“A year…” whispered Georgina. “How time flies! Almost as long as that unpleasant affair with the Haworths”, she said to herself. “Do you remember, Leonia?”

“Oh, yes!” her cousin replied pensively. “I remember what happened perfectly”.

“The Haworths?” the beautiful Mrs Johnson-Scott with her golden hair and thick complexion exclaimed curiously. “Who are the Haworths?”

“Some acquaintances of my son, Spencer’s” said Leonia. “Every time I think about it, it makes me want to cry”.

“Did somebody die?”

“No, but there was…a theft.”

“Theft?” Exclaimed Miss Brewis, a thin fifty-something year old woman who was taller than a cypress tree and had short black hair.

“Yes” Georgina affirmed heavily. “It took quite a long time to discover who the culprit was. And to think there were only three people in the house!”

“Well with three people it should seem quite obvious” said Mrs Johnson-Scott.

“The police took almost four months to find the culprit. My son, Spencer, would say to me sometimes that police officers have brains the size of a mosquito’s.”

After those words there was a long silence. Then Leonia Mardson noticed the inspector, who was smiling at her. Right away the old lady realised her mistake. The inspector proceeded to light a pipe, a new habit, which was not to the liking of his wife.

“Oh! I’m sorry… I did not mean to say…The truth is…”

“…please tell all of us the story and between us we can reach the explanation which has already been discovered, if you fancy it?” said the inspector.

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Miss Brewis who seemed enthused by the idea.

“Edward, do you really want to solve a case now while we are on holiday?”

“It could be interesting.”

“Without any evidence or anything?”

“We will deduce the evidence as we go along, Martha. What’s more, these autumn afternoons are ideal for telling them.” He proceeded to give his wife a kiss.

“Alright, although the truth is I should not be surprised by this. It is not the first case where Edward has heard or read a mysterious story and then analysed it with interest and managed to discover the culprit in the end.”

“Oh, really?” The Mardson cousins exclaimed together.

The beautiful Mrs Carmichael affirmed with a nod of her head.

“Mrs Leonia, begin the story, please” the inspector then said.

“You see, it all happened like this”, she began explaining with a pained expression. “The Haworths lived in a beautiful Victorian house called ‘The Oaks’, near to Bibury. They were both almost seventy years old and lived alone, for all of their children lived in different parts of the world: the first in Venezuela, the second in Canada, the third in France and the youngest in Ireland. The only people who lived with them were the cook, who had quite a strange surname, Mcbitirrinturry, I seem to remember, and Mr Haworth’s secretary, a fairly arrogant man whose surname was Fergusson. We will not count the woman who would go to clean the house as a suspect, for she was completely loyaland would only go there a couple of days per week.”

“Alright”, said Miss Brewis.

“How old were the cook and secretary?” asked the inspector.

“The cook thirty something and the secretary around forty, approximately”

“Continue, please”.

“So it turned out that one afternoon, around four o’clock, Mrs Haworth realised that her gold ring had disappeared when she awoke from her habitual nap in the living room. She would always leave it on the mantelpiece of the fireplace. As would be expected, she immediately asked her husband, worriedly, if he had taken it, and when he said that he had not, she asked the cook. When she answered that she had not either, she asked the secretary, who she was not at all fond of. He also denied it.

“Why did she dislike him?”

“It seems that he was more in charge than her husband. Mr Haworth was not what he used to be, but mentally he was perfectly well. But the secretary had his way on most matters with great ease.”

“Where were the others when the theft took place?”

“This is where it all gets complicated” her cousin Georgina continued. “Because everyone had…they had…damn it, now I cannot think of the right word.”

“An alibi?” said the inspector smiling.

“Oh, yes, thank you. Well, that, an alibi, or more or less, as, in the cook’s case, she was alone in the kitchen” said the woman, and then went into more detail, “you should know that after lunch, the Haworths would head to the living room and sit in their armchairs. After some ten minutes or so, Mrs Haworth would fall asleep, as usual, but before doing so, she would take off that damned ring which was starting to become too tight on her. The cook had already cleared the table and was in the kitchen. Mr Haworth was going to the library to read a while and escape his wife’s snoring and a little after he would start to work with Mr Fergusson. That afternoon was no exception. As you can see, aside from Mrs Haworth, there was nobody else in the living room.

I will also tell you that, that morning, the secretary had not eaten with them as he would go to London twice a week for work-related reasons. It was all routine. At the weekends, the secretary would always stay in London and the cook in the nearby village in which she was born and where the boy she was dating lived. To replace the cook, at weekends, her sister would come. But the disappearance of the ring took place one Tuesday in the month of May and so the main cook’s sister will not feature in our story either.”

“And that is where the story ends”, Leonia concluded. “Doesn’t it seem both simple and complicated all at once? And now tell me. Who was it? Who stole Mrs Haworth’s gold ring?” she asked with a mysterious air.

“The truth is it seems quite difficult” said Mrs Johnson-Scott, who kept unconsciously fingering the pearl necklace resting on her chest. “I am particularly suspicious of the secretary, though I am not totally sure. Did they know him well?”

“Fourteen years he worked for Mr Haworth and there was never a single complaint. He was a lawyer and economist.”

“And what was he secretary of?”

“Mr Haworth was retired but he owned many buildings which were for sale and other small businesses. Mr Fergusson would help him.They demanded a lot of work.”

“Of course, he thought he was clever, the little sneak. Too bossy with Mr Haworth, he was. And what if he had made an investment which ended badly? And what if he had lost a lot of money? How would he get it back? Well, very simple: stealing the mistress’s ring. I’m sure he did not go to London that day. Yes…maybe that is what happened. Seeing Mrs Haworth sleeping through the window, he set everything up to get in there through it (I bet he had already opened it from inside a few hours before). Yes, it seems quite simple. I think the suspect…that is what they are called, right, Edward?”

The inspector affirmed.

“…well, the suspect was the secretary” declared the woman.

“Oh, no!” Miss Brewis exclaimed with a conviction which surprised Mrs Johnson-Scott. “I think it was the cook. I bet she was not very well off financially.”

“You are mistaken” said Leonia. “The Haworth’s were very generous. Both the secretary and the cook received good salaries. What is more, the young woman desperately wanted to get married for she was coming up to thirty years old. She saved and saved, I am sure of that.”

“A young woman of her age also has the right to have fun. What do you know about her at weekends? Yes, she would have saved, but on the other hand she also must have spent money. Practically all week locked up in there! If I had been her I would not have saved so much.”

“Oh, really?” said Mrs Johnson-Scott looking at her with surprise.

“Think about it, do not misunderstand what I am saying, ma’am. But that young woman probably realised she did not have as much money as she thought and acquiring that valuable ring would not have been a very bad thing for her. My suspicions lie with the cook, I am convinced.”

“Valeria, you don’t think that she stole the ring to wear it on her wedding day, do you?” said Leonia.

“Oh, no. That would be stupid of her. How would she be able to wear it? She would have showed herself up in front of everybody. I think she put it away to air it in some other place once she was married, somewhere quite far from where the Haworths lived. Yes, yes, that must be what happened. Does anyone else agree with me?”

Nobody responded right away.

“Miss Brewis” said Hector, looking at her, puzzled. “If you think about it properly, there are so many possibilities in this case that I am not at all surprised it took them so long to find the culprit.”

“Who do you suspect, Hector?” asked Mrs Johnson-Scott.

“Mr Haworth.”

“Mr Haworth? Explain what you mean, please.”

“Sometimes, when they reach a certain age, men have the urge to fall in love with younger women. Was Mrs Haworth attractive?”

“No” admitted Leonia. “She was ugly as sin, but a wonderful person.”

“I think that Mr Haworth fell in love with the cook” continued Hector. “And he gave her the ring. If the cook had refused to accept it, maybe he would have accused her of something and then laid her off. Something similar happened to a friend of mine. The man was courting the poor maid. She would refuse…at the beginning, but later a bracelet disappeared, then a ring, then some earrings, then a hairband…and nobody, nobody said anything.”

“But what did that man do for a living?” interrupted Mrs Johnson-Scott brusquely. “Was he a jeweller or something of the sort?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. How did you know?”

“I worked it out straight away. Too much jewellery. It was obvious.”

Hector continued while the inspector looked at his mother-in-law, astonished.

“As I was saying, I think that at the beginning, she must have refused, but not later. Too many gifts. He was a wealthy man, extremely wealthy. I bet the girl’s boyfriend was nowhere near as rich.”

“No, he was not at all” said Leonia. “He was a very honourable and hardworking boy, but not rich.”

“So you think it was Mr Haworth” Georgina concluded.

“Mr Haworth and the cook, to be specific.”

“But do you really think she would wear her ring?” asked Martha incredulously.

“Of course she would wear it, dear” replied her mother. “She would wear it once the two of them had run off.”

“I really doubt that Mr Haworth would act like that. Had they been married for long?”

“Almost forty years” said Georgina.

“See, mother. And do you think that after forty years of marriage Mr Haworth lost his senses over the cook?”

“And why not, if she had been living with them for a long time…? I bet she let herself be loved.”

“But she was engaged!”

“I do not believe that. It must have been an excuse. She would leave at weekends, right? And Mr Haworth would also go away some weekends, would he not?”

“Yes, of course” said Georgina.

“Alone or with company?”

“Sometimes alone, sometimes with company.”

“See.”

“And do you think, mother, that just because he went alone he would meet up with the cook?”

“Why not?”

“Oh, it is absurd. I am sure he would go away for work.”

“Who knows” her mother maintained, unwilling to be defeated.

“I cannot imagine Mr Haworth acting like that, in no way” said Martha, altered almost as if it concerned a member of her own family.

“The truth is it all seems quite complicated, though I do have my own opinion” said the young chauffer.

“But Hector” Martha continued. “Do you not think that your idea is a little bizarre and old-fashioned? This idea that the master fell crazily in love with the cook, the maid or the secretary, I think it is a little antiquated. I think the couple must have been very much in love. Perhaps Mrs Haworth felt a little sad with the passing of the years, because her husband did not pay so much attention to her anymore. You must all remember that nearly every afternoon Mr Haworth would work in his office with his secretary. Mrs Haworth must have felt lonely.”

“What did Mrs Haworth do all day then?” asked Mrs Johnson-Scott.

“Not much of anything” replied Leonia. “She would have breakfast in the morning, then read the paper and do the puzzles, and she would knit clothes for her grandchildren and grand nieces and nephews. But in the afternoons, she would often go to a nearby city where she participated in some meetings where there were only women her age. They would do various activities there.”

“All women?” said Hector, puzzled.

“I think there were a couple of men too” responded Georgina.

“A couple of men?” Miss Brewis was surprised.

“Maybe she flirted with some mystery man” added Mrs Johnson-Scott.

“Mother!”

“He would let her love him, of course, because he knew that Mrs Haworth had a lot of money.”

“You have a great imagination, Mrs Johnson-Scott” said her loyal housekeeper.

“Don’t be so sure. It could have happened, couldn’t it, Edward?”

“Perhaps” was her son-in-law’s limited response.

“And did she not want to fire the cook or the secretary when the ring disappeared?” asked Mrs Johnson-Scott. “She must have thought it was one of them.”

“No. Though it seems absurd, she wanted them to stay, she did not believe it had been one of them” said Georgina.

“Her husband either?”

“Oh no, her husband even less so!”

“I do not understand at all. So, who, then? A mysterious thief who was spying on them?” exclaimed Mrs Johnson-Scott. “It seems that woman was a bit strange.”

“I agree” said the inspector.

“But, listen” said Martha suddenly. “I was thinking that…and what if there had been a sudden distance between the couple? The disappearance of the gold ring, for her, would have changed Mr Haworth’s attitude towards his wife. Maybe he would have been more communicative and affectionate.”

“That she was hiding her jewellery to later ‘find’ it herself?” said her mother incredulously. “Are you trying to suggest that she was a neurotic woman?”

“It is possible, many women are not yet they behave in a similar way.”

“Stealing from themselves?”

“The poor things appear to be inconsolable victims” continued her daughter. “And then the worried husband consoles them.”

“Dear daughter, sorry but your idea also seems quite odd. Anyway…this…inspector, Edward, I mean, you still have not said anything. Tell us what you think of all of this. Because you must think something, right?”

“Of course. We could say that what Hector said is part of the truth.”

“I don’t believe it” said Mrs Johnson-Scott immediately and furiously, “so Mrs Haworth and that young woman were carrying on together in secret. Poor Mrs Haworth! How humiliating!”

“Not exactly. You will see. Hector said one thing which is true. There are so many possibilities that it is necessary to analyse everything very carefully. In reality it is difficult to find the solution if one is not at the scene of the crime. However, I know what it is.”

Suddenly there were many exclamations. How? When? Where? This is surprising! They all looked at the inspector as if hypnotised. The inspector did not seem earthly in that moment, but rather like a god.

“I heard somebody say that in the afternoons she would go to a nearby city to distract herself a little bit. At those meetings,every so often, she must have had to go and spend the afternoon in some bigger cities, London, I would say. And once she was there, sometimes she would go to the theatre, or to the cinema, or a museum, other times…to the bingo.

“To the bingo?” said Miss Brewis, confused.

“Yes, to the bingo. I believe our Mrs Haworth became very addicted to that game, too addicted.”

“And there was me thinking that, in a desperate moment, Mr Haworth or the cook would have left the library and kitchen respectively and headed to the living room to take the ring” said Mrs Johnson-Scott.

“It could have happened too. But it didn’t, it was the exact opposite” said the inspector.

“What happened?” asked Miss Brewis.

“The poor woman became addicted to the game and lost a lot of money. As a result of this, she had to sell her precious and valuable gold ring one afternoon when she went to play. The thing about the disappearance of the ring that afternoon was all a farce.”

“The poor woman!” exclaimed Mrs Johnson-Scott.

“The ring was retrieved, thank God, for the manager of the bingo did not sell it, rather he kept it. Thanks to him it was possible to get it back.”

“And when the ring went missing, who did Mr Haworth suspect? Because he must have suspected somebody, right?”

“I think he thought his wife had lost it. And with the excuse of the disappearance she would not have to own up to it” said the inspector.

“Very nice” continued his wife, a little angrily, “and because of that they all seemed guilty of theft.”

“She was unwell, Martha.”

“I know. I had forgotten for a moment. However, they must have had quite a quarrel when it disappeared.”

“It is true! That is what happened!” exclaimed Leonia in ecstasy. “I can’t believe it!”

“You are a genius, inspector”, said Hector, astonished.

“I am proud to have such an intelligent son-in-law. How were you able to work it all out so quickly?”

“Well…that is a professional secret” said the inspector whilst winking at his wife.

“You seem more of a visionary than an inspector” Georgina Mardson pointed out, also quite surprised. “When I tell Charlotte Darnell she will not believe it.”

“I am not surprise you managed to become an inspector at Scotland Yard” said Miss Brewis, fascinated. “You are extremely intelligent. But the story is actually very sad deep down” she added, afflicted. “And what happened afterwards?”

“Well, now is the part I like most” concluded Leonia. “The cook got married after some time, but she continued to work there. The one who stopped working there was the ambitious secretary as, when Mrs Haworth became ill, hetried to gain greater control over the business affairs. That was the straw which broke the camel’s back. Mr Haworth fired him very diplomatically.”

“That is what happened” confirmed Georgina. “Now Mrs Haworth is much better. Not long after, they took a trip almost around the whole world and were able to visit all of their children. When they returned they both seemed ten years younger. It was a marvellous trip.”

“Traveling does not agree with everybody” said Miss Brewis slowly and seriously. “I remember that many years ago a friend of mine told me that someone she knew had taken a trip to Africa with a group of friends. The woman became ill there with some fever caused by insect bites and had to be urgentlytransported back to London by aeroplane.”

“Poor woman” said the emotional Georgina Marsden sorrowfully.

“What happened?” asked Mrs Johnson-Scott. “You have never told me this.”

“It was so long ago. Actually, it is quite an extraordinary story, I do believe.”

“Tell us it, Valeria” said Leonia who was already very curious to hear the tale.

“Oh, yes” concurred her cousin. “I like mysterious stories”.

“As you wish. But let’s serve the tea first, if you don’t mind? The clock has already struck five.”

  
THE END