Little Tommy’s Story
My name is William Thomas Johnston, although everybody just calls me Tommy. - I’m nearly 13.
I had a funny experience - Which started at school, when I won a book token for writing the best story in the school competition, to the theme an exciting adventure”
When I went up to receive my prize from Mr Smith, the headmaster, my pal Anthony Sprason squinted at me and made me laugh, in front of the whole school -
So afterwards in the playground I thumped him!
My story was a ghost story - sparked off by an old derelict house - which I pass everyday on my way to and from school. I described it as a crook’s hideout and how me and my gang scared them out by pretending to be ghosts.
On my way home after the prize giving, - As I was passing the old house - I spotted Anthony Sprason down the road. Thinking that,--if he saw me , he would take revenge for my bashing him, I nipped smartly into the old house through a broken down door into the basement.
It was pretty weird - dark - Boarded windows - creaky rotten floorboards and a smell of old cupboards.
I made my way up some rickety stairs to the ground floor, and into the front room - the door swung too behind me, closing with a loud click!
Wallpaper hung off the walls - there was a huge fireplace cocooned in dusty cobwebs
Suddenly I went hot and then cold and my heart started to thump like mad. There’s nothing to be afraid of I told myself as I tried to whistle a tune / Rather weakly --
And then I heard it - a voice - hush boy it said, I can’t stand that tiresome noise-----------------------------------my hair stood on end and my jaw dropped in fear and amazement.
Don’t be frightened child - the voice said - I turned but couldn’t see anyone - a shiver ran right through me!
I can’t see you I spluttered - no not many people do- but here I am. And then she was there in front of me, a little old woman, but with a kind face.
I’m so pleased that you have come she said because I can’t always get through - get through what, I asked? Oh never mind she said, you wouldn’t understand - but will you help me? I wi ll if I can--------------------
My name is Mrs Coffey and this is my house - surely you don’t live here, do you? Said I. - for many years I ------- and then she suddenly changed the subject---- if you are to help me you must do so at once, there is no time to lose.
I want you to take something to the authorities for me- the police ,the vicar the doctor, it doesn’t really matter which - so that Terence can be helped before it’s too late.
Take what I enquired - my jewels boy! They said that Terence had stolen them after he had frightened me to death - but he did no such thing and they accused him of manslaughter but fortunately he was acquitted.
Ha ha, I laughed to myself, how could she have been manslaughtered if she was standing right here?
They could find no proof said Mrs Coffey but the stigma of it all was too much for him, and very soon he went out of his mind.
I have tried long and hard to prove his innocence, but nobody has stayed here long enough to help me until today.
But why have you not just gone to the police yourself Mrs Coffey?- I cannot go beyond these walls she said - so come on boy- I’ii show you where the jewels are hidden- and she made for the door - which was closed Swissssssssssh and she passed right through it - jeeeepers! What happened next is a blurr, but I remember waking up in the garden and our next door neighbour, Mr Mollard, was saying- what’s up Tommy , you’re as white as a sheet, have you seen a ghost? Yes I said and promptly feinted again. - next thing I was home in bed and my dad was saying , don’t worry son you’ll feel better in the morning.
Next morning my main concerns where - why had I been so stupid to be frightened of Mrs Coffey- ghost or no ghost - because she wouldn’t hurt a fly, and how could I tell the police about the jewels if I didn’t know where they where?
I gobbled down breakfast and set off for school via the derelict house - Mrs Coffey, where are you I called but she wasn’t there.
It was a long day at school and that sneaky Sprason was a real pest as usual but straight after school I returned to the old house- but again there was no one there so I went to the police station.
The police were ok, but treated the whole thing as a joke -
Don’t eat cheese last thing at night sonny - and remember that we’re busy men - so don’t go near any more empty houses or next time you’ll be in big trouble - now off you go--------
The vicar was more understanding and listened patiently,
He said something about exercising the ghost, but I explained that Mrs Coffey was old and didn’t do exercising-
No- young man, the word is exorcising , which is a religious way of getting rid of ghosts
Anyway, lets look at the parish register----------- no, there isn’t a single Coffey for years back. But don’t worry that might be because she was a catholic or something---------------
I said goodbye to the vicar and went home for tea.
After tea I went to the library where I found the librarian , lovable old Mr Beesley. I asked him how we could find out about a Mrs Coffey living at 101 Lincoln Rd, years ago - And he produced the electoral registers.
After some time ---- here it is he yelled (disturbing the whole library)
Diligence rewarded at last old son - Coffey Louisa Maude at 101 Lincoln Rd In 1935 / but not in 1936?.
So she must have died (or moved out of the district Said Mr Beesley) . No- I know she didn’t move said i.- wait here a moment said Mr Beesley and returned shortly with copies of the local papers for 1935/36.
I think Mrs Coffey must have been helping because I opened the 1936 volumes near to the beginning and there it was- a headline that read - adopted son cleared of manslaughter charge----Terence Coffey etc etc. acquitted yesterday.
The gist of it was that Terry,the adopted son, had lived away for some time and had got involved with the More dodgy side of the lincoln underclass and become a compulsive gambler, with massive debts. He was scared to ask his mother for money because she was opposed to gambling in any shape or form - his plan was to sneak into the house whilst she slept and steal some jewellery but to make it look like a burglary.
Mrs Coffey ,hearing a noise waited for the intruder with a poker. When she saw who it was she had a heart attack with the shock, - Fell - striking her head on the marble fireplace.
He panicked, left her lying there and ran out of the house straight into the arms of a passing policeman -pc Cooke!
The doctor confirmed death due to a heart attack and pc Cooke could find no evidence of theft and so he’d got off.
But several things continued to bug me -----------
Why had the house been empty all these years?
If Terry had inherited it - why had he not sold it?
Did he really go mad and why hadn’t he come back to find the jewels?
Was he still alive ( probably in his 70’s) and where was he now?
As the days passed I just couldn’t rest and so one night I sneaked out of the house and went directly to 101 Lincoln Rd. Entering through the basement door --clunk -- and over the creaky floorboards. I took a deep breath, went upstairs to the front room and called softly , Mrs Coffey, are you here? Nothing - I called again - nothing.-- I want to help Terry, I’ve found out what happened in 1936, but I don’t know where he is -- please help me.
The atmosphere changed - as though a breeze was blowing lightly through - then I heard it - a very faint voice - I can’t come through it said ,i can’t come through--------------------------
Where is Terry I asked?-- from the very feint voice came two words which sounded like Benfield Pottam”- and then it was gone. -- I went back home to bed, but decided to go and see Mr Beesley the librarian again after school.- what could be the meaning of Benfield Pottam??
I’m glad you’ve come Tommy, I’ve found something more about Mrs Coffey in this old issue of the Radcliffe Times.
The newspaper reported that she had left The house and all her jewels to Terry the adopted son , but that he suffered a breakdown after the trial and never lived there. .he was then admitted to burnfields clinic at potterhanworth, Nr Lincoln!
Benfield pottam---- burnfields at potterhanworth!!! That was it. Greaaaat!! - If he’s still there , do you think they would let me see him Mr Beesley? - I’ve Promised his mother that I would try to help.
His mother? Mrs Coffey? yes that’s right
But she died in 1936!!
That’s right I said hurrying off before he decided that I needed to be in Burnfields clinic myself!
I decided that pc Cooke and Co. would be useless in solving a mystery from 30 yrs ago, and so I decided to visit the vicar again, who had been so very helpful last time.
I told him the latest news
I’m flatterd Tommy (puffing on an old pipe)
As it happens- I go to Burnfields to visit one of my old parishoners - they know me quite well, I’ll phone to see if they can help.
He returned shortly---------------------
Well Tommy - bless my soul - Terence Coffey was there, but I’m afraid he died at 12.30 this morning!!!
I burst into tears - I don’t really know why -
Perhaps it was because the story had suddenly collapsed-
Perhaps it was for Mrs Coffey who would never get her wish to clear Terry’s name
Perhaps it was for Terry, who would never know how she felt about him
But then I realised why Mrs Coffey’s voice had faded away - it must have been about half past twelve when I had said where is Terence’ - and at that moment she had met him again after more than 30 yrs!
And that was the end of the story - until some years later----
When I was grown up - a busy motor mechanic and a Member of the Rotary Club------------------------- Lincoln Rd was being demolished to make way for new flats - fortunately Mr Mollard was now the laird of Ainsworth - -- 101 was one of the first houses to go and the headlines read workman finds treasure in derelict house”.
I don’t know what happened to the treasure, and since Terry is dead it doesn’t really matter--------------but I often wonder ---- if I had found the treasure all those years ago - would any one have believed me.-- especially when I told them that I was guided to it by a ghost????? |
