Taken from a story by David Timmins on Amazon Kindle, written with the idea it could be converted into a musical. While it is about three children, it is meant to be read by all ages. The chapter titles are taken from classic records, mainly from the sixties.
Music is far better than having a calendar on your wall or a photograph in an album, and will enable you to recall memories that may be bitter or sweet, but all are part of being human.
So if you read the whole story, mix it with red wine and play the titles, but don’t over-indulge and make an alowance for my poor grammer, as I went to nine different schools and lived in five different houses before I was fifteen
My name is Rebecca. Today is my tenth birthday. It was going to be such a special birthday.
A trip to the cinema with my father who I love to bits, then a party at home with all my friends.
That’s when I would wear that special dress.
Then something terrible happened that changed my life forever.
I would never wear that special dress, and today would not be my only tenth birthday.
This is the end of the second chapter.
That’ll be the day
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We passed the Aston Villa football ground on our right-hand side. Not that you could actually see much of it from here, but it was possible to recognise the floodlights that marked out the football pitch perimeter and the top half of their club name.
Dad was a Villa fan when he was young, and back then they were a good side, but after several years of poor results his enthusiasm had now disappearing.
He took a slip road that led off the Aston Expressway and swung left at the next island, then as we slowly approached a set of traffic lights a lorry veered violently across the road in front of us and I heard dad shout out loud. ‘Rebecca, look out, for God’s sake, look out.’
But I was frozen in horror. There was a screech of brakes, and I could smell rubber as the lorry’s tyres tried to grip the road.
I remember watching, unable to move as it headed straight for me, and the music got so loud that it hurt my ears and it vibrated in my head, the lorry was right on top of me, and I shouted a single word. ‘Mom.’
Then the whole world spun around and turned black.
Every Day
The next thing I remembered was walking along a pavement which edged a busy road.
I looked around but couldn’t recognize where this was, but it was full of people bustling past. They seemed to move so quickly, and several times I was forced to take evasive action.
I frowned and thought to myself how bad-mannered they were.
Then I remembered the accident and considered perhaps it was me that was moving slowly because I was still in shock.
By now I was starting to panic.
‘Where am I and what’s happened to my dad?’ I sobbed out loudly. But nobody took the slightest bit of notice.
All of a sudden I saw a sign over a building which read ‘Police Station.’ Dad always told me that if I was in danger or in any sort of trouble, to try to find one.
‘If you ever get lost or need help, they will always be there for you, it’s their job, and they are especially good with young children.’
It’s funny. When he got that speeding ticket six months previously, he wasn’t so complimentary towards the officer who issued him with the fixed penalty fine.
I waited until there was a break in the traffic, then I crossed the road and squeezed through the half-open front door.
The building was quite ancient, but to me, anything that was over twenty years old would either be classed as Edwardian or Victorian, although I could never remember which came first and which came last.
I found myself in a large office and noticed it was not very well organized.
Against one wall were several filing cabinets, some of the draws were wedged open because all sorts of documents and ledgers were crammed rather than placed inside them.
Many were bent at the edges with prominent scuff marks on the corners, as if someone with very little patience had tried to shut the drawers without making the effort to sort them out properly.
The room smelt damp and musky, adding to the feeling that this building was quite ancient.
The light was quite dim, but as my eyes adjusted, I started to look around for someone who could help me.
Finally. I noticed the outline of a man sitting behind a large oak desk.
I started to move closer and realized that it was an elderly policeman. On his right-hand side and placed within easy reach was a mug full of what looked like hot tea; so hot that the liquid changed into steam and gently drifted upwards.
I watched as he picked the cup up and sipped hesitantly from its rim, and smiled to myself as the lens of his glasses totally clouded over.
‘Bugger,’ I heard him mutter and his face briefly resembled that of a bulldog sucking a wasp through a Kaylie straw, ‘they never put enough milk in the tea, and how do they get it this hot?
If I drunk this straight away, I wouldn’t have any lips left.’
He put his drink down, then removed his glasses and wiped them furiously on the bottom of his shirt. After replacing them he picked up a pen and continued to write on half-completed forms which were placed higgledy-piggledy on the top of his desk.
His clothes seemed to fit in with the ancient decor and I wondered if he started here as a young man when the building was first built.
I discounted this idea because my teacher was always telling me that Victorians and Edwardians died out a long time ago.
I looked even more closely at his face.
He had not aged well. More wrinkles than a prune I thought to myself.
His hair was pure white, as was his beard, but it did contain small flecks of jet black hair; that’s a strange combination I thought.
By now I was standing directly in front of him. I coughed loudly, but he carried on writing.
Perhaps his hearing wasn’t too good. I coughed even louder.
I waited patiently for what seemed to be several minutes. Every now and again, I coughed increasingly loudly. But he took no notice, I decided to be more forceful.
‘My name is Rebecca. I was involved in a car accident today. I’m on my own and I don’t know what’s happened to my dad.’
I paused as I thought of dad, then added as tears started to form in my eyes, ‘I am only ten years old, and it’s my birthday today.’
I saw his eyes flicker; he raised one hand. ‘Just give me another minute Miss and I will be right with you,’
It seemed a lot longer than a minute to me, but I stayed quiet, and eventually the policeman put his pen down and looked up.
‘There that’s it. Sorry to keep you waiting, but at my age if you don’t complete what’s in front of you it’s so difficult to remember where you got to.
Now, young lady, what can I do for you?’
‘It’s my dog Gertrude. She seems to have disappeared. She has never done anything like this before and I am so worried about her.
She is only two and has no road sense.
I lost my other dog the same way. She got out through the back gate and never came home; I never got over shock of losing her.
I know that I shouldn’t think like this, but I feel as if it could be my fault.
Perhaps I never gave Gertrude enough food, or maybe she didn’t like Sundays when all the other ladies would come around and we would practice singing hymns.
You see constable. Not all the ladies had my vocal range, in fact, some were quite out of tune.
I know Gertrude never liked that, she would show the whites of her eyes and then just howl to show them the correct notes.
Gertrude has a wonderful vocal range.’
I turned around and stared at the elderly woman behind me.
‘But I was here first,’ I told her in what was now a very creaky voice, ‘I have been in a car accident and my dad is missing.’
‘Dogs aren’t really what we are about at the police station,’ the policeman said, totally ignoring me, ‘it’s more a case for the RSPCA.
I am sure that if you get in touch with them, they will be able to help.
I think that I have some leaflets in the cupboard. You could try phoning some of the help numbers on them just in case someone’s handed her in.’
The policeman stood slowly upright, supporting his body by placing his one hand on the side of the desk; he hesitated for a moment to steady his legs and then walked straight past me as if I wasn’t there.
I was now feeling very scared by what was happening. The back of my neck started to tingle, and I could feel the hairs on it move into an upright position.
I know it’s mentioned in a lot of scary films and I never really knew if it was something that had been made up, but now I knew it was true.
I walked towards him and reached for his hand. ‘Please. Please help me. I have lost my dad and don’t know what to do?’ I said with tears now in full flow.
I remember screaming out loud as my hand passed through his arm as if he were a ghost.
I stumbled against the counter, then just run outside still screaming, but no one took any notice of me.
I don’t know how I got through the next few hours, I was in a daze, a trance, and I wondered aimlessly along without any idea of where I was going.
By now I had found out that I could walk straight through people as if they were just holograms.
On one occasions I accidentally stumbled right through the body of a girl who was about my own age.
For some reason it required a lot of effort and felt as if I was wading through treacle, but the really scary thing was that I could see all the organs that were working inside her body.
After that, whenever possible, I walked around people.
What had happened to me?
Was I dead; had I become a ghost?
I sat down on the steps of an old house, it was derelict and the door was boarded up with a sheet of plywood. I pushed my back tightly against it and drew my legs up so that my chin rested on my knees.
Somehow, I felt safer sitting like this. It was as if I were in some sort of impenetrable cocoon.
Then I tried to visualize the events that had happened in the last few hours.
I could still remember that lorry turning directly in front of the car and dad shouting something. What was it he said?
Then I remembered the words he used. ‘Look out Rebecca, for God sake, look out.’ It was not just the words that he used but the way his voice sounded.
It was full of terror.
Something else had changed. I now realised that I could not remember the name of the street that I lived in, only that it was somewhere near Birmingham.
I couldn’t go home because I didn’t know where I lived.
By now it was getting dark and I needed to be where there were lots of people. I would feel safer there even if they couldn’t see, or help me.
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