Short Stories
When the phone rings in the middle of the night, it doesn't always pay to answer it.
OK, I know I should have just ignored it, if I had, I could have saved myself a great deal of hassle. But I'm nosy, and always looking for anything I can get, so when the phone rang in the middle of the night, I was tempted. Let me go back to that night.
I was asleep; I do that most nights. On my own, that's common as well, unfortunately. Then the phone rang and woke me up. I looked at the clock- 3 a.m. And that's when I made my mistake and picked up the receiver. I think I wanted to shut it up as much as anything.
"Paul," a voice said as I picked up the receiver. "The package is at the left luggage office by Victoria station. It's under your name." And the phone went dead.
I should have left it alone. I didn't have any idea who the caller was - I tried 1471, and the number was withheld - and I wasn't expecting a parcel. But my curiosity started to get the better of me. I went back to sleep thinking I would go to the left luggage office and collect the parcel in the morning.
The alarm woke me as usual at 7:30, and I thought no more about the phone call in the night until the phone rang again while I was in the shower. The voicemail light was flashing as I went into the kitchen for my breakfast. I pressed the Play button. "I forgot to tell you, you need a ticket number; it's 1087453, and it's in your name, Paul McClarance."
The message ended. My first name was Paul, but I wasn't a McClarance. But then I was curious to know what was in it so I decided I would call at the left luggage office on my way to work, it was only a short detour. The office was not in the station itself, but round the side and a short walk, further than I had remembered, and there was a long queue. I almost gave up after half an hour, but then I was still early for work, so it seemed sensible to wait. Who knows, there could be something really worth having in the parcel. At last, my turn came, and I told the man behind the counter the number I had been given and my name. "Have you got the ticket?" The man grumped at me. I apologised and explained I had lost the ticket on the way over, but I had remembered the number, and my name is Paul McClarance.
He looked me over for a while before walking to the back of the room and picking up a package. "Sign here," he pointed to a place on a form he had placed on the counter. I picked up the parcel; it was heavier than it looked, and walked out of the office.
I hadn't gone far when two men approached me, one on either side. "Paul McClarance," one of them said, "you are under arrest for drug dealing." I looked at him as he took the parcel from me, not taking it in at first. "Don't make a scene in public sir, but we will need you to come with us to the police station."
It took me several days to convince them about the phone call; luckily, I remembered the voicemail at home, and that did the trick.
I don't have a phone in my bedroom anymore. And I don't seem to have the same curiosity anymore.
The Package Returns
I told you earlier how I had cured my overactive curiosity when I accidentally got on the wrong side of the law. I suppose 'accidentally' might be better as 'stupidly', but I hesitate to call myself stupid, I leave that to others. Once the issue of the drugs was cleared up with the police, I had returned to work and I really had put all thoughts of parcels behind me when, one day, I returned home to see the voicemail light flashing on the phone again. My thoughts went straight back to the parcel, but I had to hear what the message was, it could be my mum even.
"Paul, Jack says he hasn't had the parcel delivered yet, what the hell is going on? Call me back. Oh, I've got a new number, it's 0555 102339." The impassive machine spoke, and I sat down. Obviously, I needed to call the police. But then 'obviously', 'common sense' and 'me' don't often appear in the same sentence. I felt a crazy need to get my own back on the people who had almost caused me to be locked up. Did cause me to be locked up in fact, even if was only for a night and a day. As I said, common sense was given out on the day I was away and although it was my fault I had got into the mess in the first place, my mind had twisted it onto the faceless voice on the phone. I still don't know why I did it, but I picked up the phone and dialled the number. It was answered almost immediately and a voice said, "Is that you Paul?"
"Yes," I answered in a voice I hoped might sound a bit like the real Paul.
"Where the hell is the package? You were supposed to bring it here."
"I almost got caught collecting it," I lied. "I spotted some filth waiting nearby so I got it and managed to get it booked back in under another name. The filth stopped me, but without the package they let me go. I reckon I can collect it tomorrow; I think the heat might have gone down a bit by then." I really hoped that words like 'filth' were actually used by criminals and were not just something used on the TV.
"OK," the voice said. "A change of plan then, take it to Mike, at his house. Oh, you don't know Mike do you, it's 22 Micheldever Street. Take it over after 11pm." The phone went dead.
Now, my common sense, which had been asleep all my life, suddenly woke up and I decided to call the police and tell them about the phone call. It took me an hour to get through to the sergeant who had arrested me before - it would have helped had I remembered his name. I suppose I should have expected the third degree, I am sure they still thought I was mixed up in it all. "Come into the station in the morning," he insisted when I eventually got through to him, "and we can take it all down then." Reluctantly, I agreed.
I must admit, I didn't want to go to the police station again. Partly because of the way I had been handcuffed and interrogated last time, but I also had a fear that the criminals might be watching me. I know it was unlikely, but what if they knew what had happened and wanted to get me out of the way? I called the sergeant back and explained my dilemma. Surprisingly, he seemed to understand and suggested that he met me at a cafe near where I had been arrested the first time. If I was being watched, then I would at least be heading in the right direction had I really been going for the parcel.
Another sleepless night came and went, leaving me more tired than ever. I had no work that day so I decided to head into the city early and kill some time sightseeing, something I hadn't done for a great number of years. The weather was good for May, and I enjoyed the day, apart from the nagging worry about whether I was being watched or not. I made my way over to Victoria station late in the afternoon. I knew the luggage office closed at 5pm and my appointment with the sergeant was at 4 so it wouldn't look out of place if I slipped into the cafe for a coffee before collecting the now imaginary parcel. He was sitting at a table in the corner and I walked over and joined him, ordering a coffee as I passed the counter.
"You have caused us a great deal of trouble," he said as I sat down. I looked at him, puzzled. "The drugs were worth almost a million quid," he continued. "And because of you they are now locked up in the evidence room where they will stay until they rot or get destroyed."
I still looked blankly at him. "You were right," he went on. "You have been followed. I am afraid this is the last coffee you will be enjoying."
At last, I understood. Blame it on the sleepless night or whatever you wish, but my mind suddenly started working again. He was part of the drugs gang and I had walked into the mess with my eyes wide open.
"Drink your coffee," he said. "I have a gun in my pocket pointed at you so don't try to be a hero, I don't want to have to explain the mess it would cause if it went off." I had no choice and did my best to drink the now unwanted coffee. "That's enough, up you get, and we will walk out of here together." He took me towards the river, and I was seriously thinking that this was it, when the same thing happened all over again, but this time to the sergeant as two men came up either side of him.
"Don't make a fuss," one of them said. "We have a marksman over there and both of us are armed, as is the man who is now behind you." Two marked police cars drew up alongside then and more police got out and the sergeant was taken away.
One of the uniformed police then helped me into the other car and drove me home. As we drove along, I was sure my overactive curiosity was finally gone when the policeman spoke. "You know you would make a good policeman with the inquisitive mind you seem to have." I sighed, was I destined to always be nosy?
I was asleep; I do that most nights. On my own, that's common as well, unfortunately. Then the phone rang and woke me up. I looked at the clock- 3 a.m. And that's when I made my mistake and picked up the receiver. I think I wanted to shut it up as much as anything.
"Paul," a voice said as I picked up the receiver. "The package is at the left luggage office by Victoria station. It's under your name." And the phone went dead.
I should have left it alone. I didn't have any idea who the caller was - I tried 1471, and the number was withheld - and I wasn't expecting a parcel. But my curiosity started to get the better of me. I went back to sleep thinking I would go to the left luggage office and collect the parcel in the morning.
The alarm woke me as usual at 7:30, and I thought no more about the phone call in the night until the phone rang again while I was in the shower. The voicemail light was flashing as I went into the kitchen for my breakfast. I pressed the Play button. "I forgot to tell you, you need a ticket number; it's 1087453, and it's in your name, Paul McClarance."
The message ended. My first name was Paul, but I wasn't a McClarance. But then I was curious to know what was in it so I decided I would call at the left luggage office on my way to work, it was only a short detour. The office was not in the station itself, but round the side and a short walk, further than I had remembered, and there was a long queue. I almost gave up after half an hour, but then I was still early for work, so it seemed sensible to wait. Who knows, there could be something really worth having in the parcel. At last, my turn came, and I told the man behind the counter the number I had been given and my name. "Have you got the ticket?" The man grumped at me. I apologised and explained I had lost the ticket on the way over, but I had remembered the number, and my name is Paul McClarance.
He looked me over for a while before walking to the back of the room and picking up a package. "Sign here," he pointed to a place on a form he had placed on the counter. I picked up the parcel; it was heavier than it looked, and walked out of the office.
I hadn't gone far when two men approached me, one on either side. "Paul McClarance," one of them said, "you are under arrest for drug dealing." I looked at him as he took the parcel from me, not taking it in at first. "Don't make a scene in public sir, but we will need you to come with us to the police station."
It took me several days to convince them about the phone call; luckily, I remembered the voicemail at home, and that did the trick.
I don't have a phone in my bedroom anymore. And I don't seem to have the same curiosity anymore.
The Package Returns
I told you earlier how I had cured my overactive curiosity when I accidentally got on the wrong side of the law. I suppose 'accidentally' might be better as 'stupidly', but I hesitate to call myself stupid, I leave that to others. Once the issue of the drugs was cleared up with the police, I had returned to work and I really had put all thoughts of parcels behind me when, one day, I returned home to see the voicemail light flashing on the phone again. My thoughts went straight back to the parcel, but I had to hear what the message was, it could be my mum even.
It wasn't.
"Paul, Jack says he hasn't had the parcel delivered yet, what the hell is going on? Call me back. Oh, I've got a new number, it's 0555 102339." The impassive machine spoke, and I sat down. Obviously, I needed to call the police. But then 'obviously', 'common sense' and 'me' don't often appear in the same sentence. I felt a crazy need to get my own back on the people who had almost caused me to be locked up. Did cause me to be locked up in fact, even if was only for a night and a day. As I said, common sense was given out on the day I was away and although it was my fault I had got into the mess in the first place, my mind had twisted it onto the faceless voice on the phone. I still don't know why I did it, but I picked up the phone and dialled the number. It was answered almost immediately and a voice said, "Is that you Paul?"
"Yes," I answered in a voice I hoped might sound a bit like the real Paul.
"Where the hell is the package? You were supposed to bring it here."
"I almost got caught collecting it," I lied. "I spotted some filth waiting nearby so I got it and managed to get it booked back in under another name. The filth stopped me, but without the package they let me go. I reckon I can collect it tomorrow; I think the heat might have gone down a bit by then." I really hoped that words like 'filth' were actually used by criminals and were not just something used on the TV.
"OK," the voice said. "A change of plan then, take it to Mike, at his house. Oh, you don't know Mike do you, it's 22 Micheldever Street. Take it over after 11pm." The phone went dead.
Now, my common sense, which had been asleep all my life, suddenly woke up and I decided to call the police and tell them about the phone call. It took me an hour to get through to the sergeant who had arrested me before - it would have helped had I remembered his name. I suppose I should have expected the third degree, I am sure they still thought I was mixed up in it all. "Come into the station in the morning," he insisted when I eventually got through to him, "and we can take it all down then." Reluctantly, I agreed.
I must admit, I didn't want to go to the police station again. Partly because of the way I had been handcuffed and interrogated last time, but I also had a fear that the criminals might be watching me. I know it was unlikely, but what if they knew what had happened and wanted to get me out of the way? I called the sergeant back and explained my dilemma. Surprisingly, he seemed to understand and suggested that he met me at a cafe near where I had been arrested the first time. If I was being watched, then I would at least be heading in the right direction had I really been going for the parcel.
Another sleepless night came and went, leaving me more tired than ever. I had no work that day so I decided to head into the city early and kill some time sightseeing, something I hadn't done for a great number of years. The weather was good for May, and I enjoyed the day, apart from the nagging worry about whether I was being watched or not. I made my way over to Victoria station late in the afternoon. I knew the luggage office closed at 5pm and my appointment with the sergeant was at 4 so it wouldn't look out of place if I slipped into the cafe for a coffee before collecting the now imaginary parcel. He was sitting at a table in the corner and I walked over and joined him, ordering a coffee as I passed the counter.
"You have caused us a great deal of trouble," he said as I sat down. I looked at him, puzzled. "The drugs were worth almost a million quid," he continued. "And because of you they are now locked up in the evidence room where they will stay until they rot or get destroyed."
I still looked blankly at him. "You were right," he went on. "You have been followed. I am afraid this is the last coffee you will be enjoying."
At last, I understood. Blame it on the sleepless night or whatever you wish, but my mind suddenly started working again. He was part of the drugs gang and I had walked into the mess with my eyes wide open.
"Drink your coffee," he said. "I have a gun in my pocket pointed at you so don't try to be a hero, I don't want to have to explain the mess it would cause if it went off." I had no choice and did my best to drink the now unwanted coffee. "That's enough, up you get, and we will walk out of here together." He took me towards the river, and I was seriously thinking that this was it, when the same thing happened all over again, but this time to the sergeant as two men came up either side of him.
"Don't make a fuss," one of them said. "We have a marksman over there and both of us are armed, as is the man who is now behind you." Two marked police cars drew up alongside then and more police got out and the sergeant was taken away.
One of the uniformed police then helped me into the other car and drove me home. As we drove along, I was sure my overactive curiosity was finally gone when the policeman spoke. "You know you would make a good policeman with the inquisitive mind you seem to have." I sighed, was I destined to always be nosy?
