The Elles Here (Elsewhere) Place by Steve Simons
The Elleshere (Elsewhere) Place
Steve Simons
Copyright 2011 Steve Simons
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INDEX
Chapter 1 – The Trouble
Chapter 2 – Could it get worse?
Chapter 3 - Anyway it isn't about me
Chapter 4 – The Ailers and more
Chapter 5 – From plan to rescue
Chapter 6 – Elles here
Chapter 7 – To the coast
Chapter 8 – What now?
Chapter 9 – Disturbed
Chapter 10 – To find the way back
Chapter 11 – Many brave Fusas and one girl
Chapter 12 – Disappointment is normal
Chapter 13 – A new day
Chapter 14 – Another way
Chapter 15 – The journey home
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Chapter 1 – The Trouble
A figure dressed entirely in black was standing at the top of the rocky outcrop, surveying the surrounding countryside, as if in search of something. The mist made it very difficult to make out any features of the figure's face, so must have made it almost impossible for the figure to see whatever it was seeking out. The figure turned and walked off of the outcrop, disappearing from view.
Out of curiosity I had walked in the same direction, only in my case being below the outcrop I had to walk around it. I had wondered if I would see the person again. I was curious as to who it was and what they were doing out here, I thought no-one lived here, yes there were settlements in the area at one time, but I didn't know anyone was still living here. Perhaps like me, the lone figure was a visitor to the area. Some visitor I am though, it almost felt like I lived here, I had been in Cornwall for four months and still had a couple to go. Don't get me wrong, I loved the place, its just that I didn't really belong there, as if I had outstayed my welcome.
Anyway this story isn't about me, its about her, the figure on the rock. I walked round the rocks, noticing that the ground was sloping upwards, heading towards the top of the rocks. I tried to pick up pace, but it was difficult, as the path, if you could call it that, got steeper. I wondered if I would lose the figure that I had seen, on the outcrop. The thought had spurred me on. I had just caught sight of her, the figure, disappearing into the house in the distance, as I reached the top level.
That was my first encounter with her. I thought nothing of it until I was at a loose end again one day and I headed back out to the same rocky outcrop. It was bare, it would be too much to hope that she would be there again. I had retraced my steps and ended up seeing the house again. As I got nearer, I heard crying. As I concentrated more on the front of the house, I saw her sitting on the front step, dressed in a white tee shirt and blue jeans. She was only a child, difficult to judge her age, sat down like that. She had long blonde hair, that covered her face. Apart from the fact that there was no-one else around, I could not be a hundred percent sure that it was her crying, yet it had to be. I was unsure if I should mind my own business and clear off before she or anyone else saw me, or if I should offer my help. As no-one else seemed to be coming to her aid and she was sobbing quite loudly, I decided to put my doubts to one side. If there's one thing I can't abide, it is to see or hear another human being suffering. I can't stick the tantrums of kids at the supermarket. I feel sorry for the parents AND for the kids.
I walked towards her, stopping at a reasonable distance, so that she didn't feel threatened, if she wanted to tell me to back off she would still have the time and the space to do a runner if she felt she needed to. I then gently asked what was wrong. She was startled, she looked up at me and her face told me instantly that she was afraid. I re-assured her that I wasn't going to harm her and I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help her. That was the first time I heard her, she said, "Its my dad, he's vanished."
"What do you mean vanished?" I asked her.
She looked at me like it was really none of my business, which of course it wasn't really, but after looking me up and down a bit, she replied, "He left eight days ago, to get some food and other supplies and I haven't seen him since."
"Did you ring the police?"
"Yes, but they can't find any trace of him, his car is still just down the hill. Its like he never left the place. I fear the worst." She looked like she was going to start crying again.
I couldn't ask the obvious question as I knew she'd start crying again, but I knew I had to move her on and try to solve the problem, but how? I racked my brains, then asked, "Is it possible that he's hiding out somewhere nearby?"
"Why?" She looked at me as if I had just said the stupidest thing in the world.
"Who knows, perhaps someone was after him for some reason, did you have any enemies, did your Dad know of a place nearby where he could hide?"
"Enemies? Why? We didn't do anything to anyone. The Police asked about that. As for somewhere to hide, there is nowhere, not close anyway, it would have been easier to get away in the car, but he wouldn't leave me here all alone. The police agreed on that one, or at least one of them did, the one who lives round here."
"Are you sure that he had no enemies? What are you doing living here, if not hiding from someone or something? You sure don't own the land around here and there's no sign that you are farmers."
"We are here because it's ideal for Dad's work." She stood at that point, what with seeing her height and seeing her face full on now, I judged she must have been only about 10 or 11.
I had the strong feeling that the discussion could be over shortly
"What would that be?" I asked, not sure if it was actually the right question to ask or not.
I was rewarded by the response, "Just who are you? Why are you so interested in us? Was it you, who harmed my Dad?"
What could I answer to that? She was certainly a bright one to be sure, even if she was on completely on the wrong track. "I just want to help you find your Dad, perhaps it would help if I told you what I do for a living?"
"You could be lying, just to get me to trust you."
See what I mean she was sharp as a razor. "I am Paul, I am down here doing upgrades to mobile phone base stations. We had the option to travel around and stay at hotels or rent somewhere and use it as a base, we opted for the latter choice, so we had somewhere that felt like home. I'm staying at a cottage about a mile and half down the road. I think I saw you about six days ago, out on the ridge, presumably you were looking for your Dad."
"Changes nothing, You could still be the one who took my Dad."
I tried to change the subject slightly with, "Surely the police have not left you on your own?"
"Of course not, I am a child, my aunt has come to stay, until we find my Dad."
"That's a relief then, I was worried you were all alone."
Feeling that I was getting nowhere apart from making myself public e
I didn't hear anything from her. I was so worried, that whenever I had the opportunity, I tried to find her Dad myself. I probably looked right guilty nosing around the countryside. I checked her place every day. In the early days I saw her out and about a few times, even caught sight of her aunt. I never attempted to talk to either though.
Then I was away for a bit, still had my job to do after all. I didn't see her again. I saw the aunt and the police out and about, they seemed to have resumed the search. I even got interviewed myself, I thought it best not to say too much in-case they thought that I was involved. I told them pretty much what I had told her, that I lived nearby and that I had seen her about a few times, but nothing about talking to her. I acted all surprised when they said something about her Dad being missing, now apparently she had gone missing too. I hopped that the shock of the news didn't show too much in my face, otherwise they'd suspect me. I gave them my number, in-case they needed to contact me.
I mistakenly thought that would be the end of my dealings with the police, how wrong could I be? I had a visit from the boys in blue that very evening. Kevin and I had settled down after dinner, another microwave wonder, that tasted pretty much like the one from the night before, despite the picture being totally different. Anyway, We were set to watch a film, when there was a knock on the door. Knock it felt more like whoever was on the other side wanted to remove the door, without opening it first.
Kevin opened the door, to be greeted by two of them, the boys in blue, they asked if he was me, he put them straight and I was invited to help them with their enquiries at the station. Not knowing if or when I'd get back, I grabbed a few essentials and they whisked me off in their car. It was raining and dark, so difficult to make out where we were going, but I knew it wasn't the local police station, as I had passed by that regularly. They seemed to be taking a strange route, which threw me altogether.
Eventually we arrived, but that wasn't the worst of it all. I was told the usual that you hear on TV and films, but never expect to hear yourself, all about being careful what you say, used in evidence against you and lawyers. I wondered what they had on me, perhaps the aunt had overheard us, me and the girl, talking. I wondered whether it would be best to try and get a lawyer involved, or would that make me seem more guilty. As I hadn't done anything wrong I decided not to involve a lawyer.
Ruddy heck, I soon regretted that decision. You'd have thought they had a picture of me holding a smoking gun and girl's Dad lying dead on the ground in front of me, then kidnapping her. It started with, “Can you confirm this is your telephone number?”
I recognised the last four digits immediately and confirmed that it was. Then they asked me, “What do you know about Josephine Menzies?”
The name didn't mean anything to me at first, then I suddenly remembered seeing the article in the local paper about a man being missing, his name was Menzies, but what was the first name? Oh yes Joseph, so I said, “Do you mean Joseph Menzies, the guy in the local paper?”
There was a knowing look passed between the two other people in the room besides me. Oh heck what have I done now, it hit me like a great weight, Josephine must be the girls name. I had spoken to her, did they know that? The one asking the questions says, “No, I didn't mention his name, but if you like we could start with him. What do you know about Joseph Menzies?”
“Apart from what the paper said, nothing, nothing at all. Never met the guy or had any dealings with him. Apart from seeing his picture in the paper, I wouldn't know him from Adam. I am not from round here you see, I am only here on a six month visit, doing some work down here, telecoms....” I'm cut short there.
The guy asking, says, “Yes, yes we know all that from your questioning earlier. All right what do you know about Josephine then?”
“Nothing.” I try a bluff, “Was she his wife?”
“Come on what do you take us for, fools? You were interviewed earlier in connection with the disappearance of a ten year old girl and you think we are talking about the wife?”
There was an embarrassing silence, which I had the strong feeling I was supposed to fill, but I resist. The man goes on to ask, “Can you explain why your telephone number just happens to be in the possession of the missing girl?”
Silence again as I wonder how, if she's supposed to be missing, they know she has my number.
“Come on, its simple really, we found the piece of paper with your phone number written on it, in your handwriting, it was in her bedroom. How did she come by your phone number?” He is leaning into me now, the closeness feels even more threatening than before.
“Perhaps she picked it up from somewhere.” I suggested.
“In the habit of writing out your phone number on scraps of paper and handing it out willy nilly, are you then sir? Perhaps you like doing paper chases, leaving your number around, so people ring you out of curiosity.” Again embarrassing silence.
“What have you done with them sir, the man and daughter, some sort of kidnapping scam, but just haven't got around to writing out the terms as yet, or maybe you don't know who to send them to?”
The questioning gets worse, the guy makes all sorts of accusations, before I decide to come clean and tell what had really happened. The questioning went into the early hours of the morning, eventually exhausted I am put in a police cell, convinced I would never be released.
~~0~~0~~0~~0~~
Chapter 2 – Could It Get Worse?
Despite being really tired I couldn't sleep, the time seemed to slip by so slowly, I was glad of the interruptions of breakfast and lunch, a further interview session with another two men, but along similar lines and the same accusations. Then peace again, until this smartly dressed guy was lead in. He handed me his business card and introduced himself as my lawyer. I protested, but he claimed that my firm had engaged him. Apparently Kevin had contacted them and they arranged for this guy to come down. He asks me loads of questions, I told him what had actually happened. He told me I was ruddy stupid to get involved. Of which I didn't need much convincing, as I had come to the same conclusion myself.
Another night spent in the cell. Then the next morning, the lawyer fellow, brought in some fresh clothes for me. Then told me that I was going to appear before the local magistrate and that the lawyer was pressing for bail, some arrangement where a sum of money would be paid to the court and would be safe so long as I behaved myself. I wondered where the money was coming from, apparently Kevin stumped it up. Its only times like this when you realise who your real mates are.
I couldn't believe it, by the afternoon I was back at the cottage, Kevin had left a note to say that he had to go out as one of the upgrades had failed and he had to replace a board, but he would see me later. Talk about confidence that I would be released, he had more faith than I did.
All was well until the next day, when suddenly the boys in blue turn up again and insist that I accompany them again. This time I took no chances and rang the lawyer chap, he told me that his local chap would join me at the station. Sure to his word the lawyer is waiting for me. I start talking to him, trying to see what all this was about, when the two earlier interviewers came in. I started to ask what this was all about, when the lawyer stepped in and told me to be quiet.
The guy who had asked the questions first time around, asked me, where I was this morning. Luckily I was on a job with one of the other guys from our firm, so had a witness. The lawyer listened carefully and stepped in a couple of times when I was asked questions. The interruptions caused the officer asking the questions to have to re-word his questions. I was g
Turned out, someone had used Menzies credit card somewhere south of here. I was first suspect, in fact the only suspect, as it turned out. Later that day Joseph Menzies turned up, back at his own doorstep, safe and well. He was well peeved to find out that his daughter was now missing.
Quite how, I still don't know, but he got wind of the fact that the police suspected I had a hand in her disappearance. He comes over to sort me out.
Luckily Kevin and another mate were around and managed to calm Menzies down. I assured him that I would like to know myself what had happened to her and went on to tell him what had happened when he vanished and that I had tried to help her out, but rapidly got the feeling that I would land myself in deep water, which is pretty much where I had found myself anyway.
That was when Menzies spooked us all out, when he started telling us what had happened to him. We all thought he had flipped and lost his marbles, his story was so far out, that there was no way anyone could believe him. But it kind of prepared me for what was to come.
~~0~~0~~0~~
Chapter 3 – Anyway It Isn't About Me
Anyway, like I said earlier, this story isn't about me, its about her, Jo, and what happened to her. She came to find me a couple of days later, after the police had told me that she had been found and I was off the hook. That was a relief I can tell you.
I was really surprised, when Jo, the girl, apologised for all the trouble. She said that she owed me an explanation at least.
Jo's story was more incredible than her Dad's. So much so, that I just had to write it down. At first, I started writing it up, after our discussions, but it got so detailed and weird, that I couldn't remember it all, so I came clean, and told Jo that I was writing it up. I half expected her to be annoyed about it, but she said, “Actually, I think it is a good idea, I would be hopeless if I tried to write it down. It would all be too boring and complicated.”