Rooms Without A View

By Augustine Nash

‘The angel sat studying them all, then he began, “Each one of you here will be inspected on your earthly life, just like the tests you did at school. At this point in the proceedings you will remember the years you lived and how you lived them.”’



‘The Artful Dodgems’, a young street crew decide to deface some monuments in their local cemetery. Little do they know, a skeleton is watching them and it decides to make them pay for their sins.



Bootlegger, The Artful Dodgems’ newest member is the first to pay and is soon followed by his fellow gang members. They are picked off one by one, sent to a ‘middle ground’ between Heaven and Hell while they are shown the consequences of their actions and are judged on their life on Earth.



Where they end up, and what happens next is up to them…



This book was written on my fathers flippant word " I bet theses graves have some stories to tell".

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookPartnership.com
• Release date: Jun 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781783014255

Book preview

Nine

One

It was the hour... the appointed hour. In the distance the church clock strikes two, a time when all humans should be in their beds, except for those on the prowl and up to no good. A murky fog has slipped silently down over this place of decay established in 1839. In Victorian times it was magnificent, but now neglect is unchecked, a city of the dead.

Only dark shadows can be seen of the steadily advancing vegetation, thick roots creeping over once magnificent graves, masonry strewn across fallen columns to make known a life cut short. A huge white marble angel stands on a plinth with outstretched wings gazing downwards, a gentle smile on her face.

Trees stand in weird shapes, trunks reaching out in all directions to enclose the tombs in a grip of destruction. Here a wreath, marking victory over death; next to it a child’s grave depicted by the pure innocence of a lamb. Overturned monuments strewn across unkempt paths leading up the hillside, and an impressive collection of mausoleums’, elaborately carved tombs and gravestones, so beloved in a bygone Victorian age, this is the oldest section.

In the spring this eerie overgrown place is filled with wild flowers, some managing to flourish from broken gravestones, and daffodils lovingly planted so long ago bloom along the paths having multiplied in numbers. Here in this silent place small animals live and foxes roam undisturbed. Birds are left in peace to build nests in many unlikely places and hatch out their chicks.

Rumours have abounded here right from the start, where the occult practised dark magic leaving their mark on a catacomb door. Robbers dug up bodies searching for anything valuable, in this atmospheric cemetery. A vampire was purportedly seen by many over the years, describing him as very tall wearing dark clothing and a top hat and eyes which glowed in the dark as he leapt over the perimeter wall and then disappeared. To join those tales, a floating nun who was seen moving through the dense overgrowth, habit stretched out behind her. Very few mortals would have ever dared to enter such a place after dark.

The silence is as oppressive as the darkness where no light shines, perhaps feet coming into contact with gravel, or rotted wood snapping, crushed into little pieces. Passing through a huge gateway which is modelled on The Valley of the Kings, so popular in its day, and towering obelisks showing a degree of what was seen as an important upper-class burial ground.

Tonight, in the month of November, in the year 1954, the fog has descended to blanket the many acres of this consecrated ground, where terrifying shadows loom and very little can be seen of the catacombs where families lay in their coffins on the shelves, some still in use even though having deteriorated over the years. The cast iron doors are marked by inverted torches denoting that the fire of life had come to an end.

Not even the huge cedar tree planted so long ago can be seen, dominating all else in its magnificence by spreading its boughs as a protective parent might in comfort.

However, as was said in the beginning, this is the hour...the hour of awakening.

He told me I would go to Heaven...he promised me...Oh God, why did you turn me away?...I was too young to die...I wanted to do so many things...visit lots of places...turn my life round...but you never gave me a chance. Mum...help me...

A commanding voice well-respected in the past, barked out, Stop that snivelling at once, what you obviously needed was a good clip around the ear. Are you new here?

Yes, they buried me two days ago, who are you?

It matters not. Once I was a Cavalry Commander in the military. You will never have heard of me, because History has wiped me off the face of the earth. I am Sir Loftus Otway, laid to rest on June 7th in the year of our Lord 1854, however sadly I have been forgotten. What is your name?

It’s Jacob Smith...what am I doing here in this tiny room...I can’t find a way out there are no windows or doors...?

Get a grip on yourself, we have all been placed in the same position and have to wait for the call, the voice with an upper-class accent answered, heavily sighing. He had been waiting so long that he had just about given up.

But I am not supposed to be here, I thought when I reached the gates I would be let in...but all the keeper said was Go back there is no room for you here. I was so disappointed when I saw the gates were not golden as I had imagined, in fact they had gone rusty. Jacob wanted to stand up but his head would touch the ceiling. The coffin they had buried him in stood in the centre of the room, lid off. A blue haze surrounded him, with just enough light to see his empty surroundings.

Suddenly a new voice spoke, soft and sincere. I am Eliza Barrow; I did not wish to come here either, but you see I was murdered.

"Murdered, how terrible, a mate of mine was knifed to death, right there on the High Street in broad daylight, not a copper to be seen anywhere. Do you mind me asking how it happened?"

For crying out loud, do we have to listen again to your earthly experiences, I for one am bored to tears with your winging, another voice loudly proclaimed, sounding irritated.

Oh it’s you Edward, well I should have thought with your upper-class background you would have been taught it is not manners to interrupt someone else, Eliza answered, her words holding no malice.

For Pete’s sake, how many are there of you? Jacob asked.

"I’m not sure, but it must be several thousand, even after all this time the cemetery is still in use. Shall I continue, Jacob, as you asked?

"Yes...well...if no one else minds."

I was a spinster, never married as it did not appeal. I was fairly well off and when I was 49 years old I decided to move into a top floor flat in Tollington Park, London. At the time I saw it as the best thing that I could do as you understand I was not getting any younger. I had four rooms and found it most comfortable.

There was a silence before Eliza resumed talking. Now, on looking back I realise I was foolish and too trusting. My landlord, Mr Frederick Seddon, lived in the ground floor flat with his wife and five children, and an elderly father. He appeared to me as being a trustworthy family man who was an area supervisor employed by an insurance company. At any rate he was very persuasive, which was the beginning of my downfall.

I understand where you are coming from; I was absolutely hooked when at twelve years old I was given cannabis outside the school gates. At first it was free, and then I had to steal to pay for it.

Cannabis, you say, what sort of food is that? a new voice enquired.

It’s a drug, you fool! someone else snapped, eager to hear the rest of the story, after all it was the only entertainment down here, if you could call it that.

Keep your hair on old chap, never heard of it in my day.

If you have all quite finished may I continue before I run out of time? Eliza pleaded.

Jacob heard a loud clamour of voices obviously in agreement.

I was completely taken in as he and his wife made me feel so welcome. I suppose I must have mentioned at some stage owning properties in Camden Town because he began to persuade me to manage my business accounts, in return offering me a small annuity and a reduction in my rent. Frankly, I was glad to be shot of the responsibility, and it did seem to be a good deal at that time. Then in 1911 he increased my annuity again in exchange for my Indian stock.

Jacob interrupted, I don’t understand about those sorts of things, how my poor mother must have suffered when I stole off her...

Disgraceful! a voice shouted.

Eliza sighed almost ready to give up. Anyway, to cut a long story short through lack of time that summer I became ill with tummy troubles and had to take to my bed. Little did I know that Margaret, Seddon’s daughter, had been sent to the chemists to buy a box of flypapers, which were coated in arsenic. These were hung round my bed in the pretence of helping me, suspended over water to aid evaporation. A few days later mercifully I died, and was quickly buried in a pauper’s grave. My cousin Frank Vonderahes wondered why I had not been buried here in the family vault. Oh! The indignity of being dug up when I had only just settled in, however my body was found to contain fatal amounts of arsenic. Seddon and his wife were arrested and brought to trial for my murder. She was found not guilty, but he was hanged, a fitting end for such an unscrupulous person.

They don’t do that now...

More’s the pity, someone put in.

At any rate I was given special dispensation by the keeper of the book to leave here and watch Seddon hang. I felt no pity at his end, a grovelling wreck who begged for mercy, he never showed me any. I felt nothing as they opened the trap door and I saw him swinging on the end of the rope...

"Do you mean I could leave here and go back to see mother?" Joseph asked.

Before anyone could enlighten him Joseph heard the church bell striking six o’clock. He went to open his mouth but could not utter a sound. Gradually the blue light faded and he felt himself lifted up and placed back in his coffin, then the lid shut and the awful sound of screws could be heard...

Two

Don’t be too late tonight Jason, have you got your key as I am going to go to bed early? his mother called after him as he let himself out of the front door.

You wish, he muttered to himself, walking up East Street feeling stimulated and yet a little fearful. Right from first hanging out with the ‘Artful Dodgems’ he was afraid of getting caught, or being killed. His reason for joining the gang was many things, a sense of belonging, respect and status, power over others, the protection it bought him and peer pressure.

He walked past the run-down estate houses, the majority of people residing here living on hand-outs, including his own widowed mother. The street was deserted, the pavements wet, reflected by the street lights. He was remembering when to join up with the others he’d had to first pass a test they set him. Even now the experience haunted him.

Sick to his stomach he had entered the shop which had been quite busy and had wandered around pretending to look at things, while trying to get up the courage to steal something. All the things that could happen had gone through his mind, and yet he knew he must comply with the gang’s rules to gain entry. In the end he had grabbed an expensive pair of sunglasses and hurried outside where he had run for his life as if the devil himself were after him. For days afterwards he had been expecting a knock on the door and the ‘old bill’ standing there ready to arrest him. However, in time he slowly came to the conclusion he had got away with it.

He turned the corner and there they were waiting for him, dressed all in black; except for their red tee-shirts, emblazoned with a dagger and the words, ‘Don’t mess with us,’ wearing hoods to conceal most of their faces. A feeling somewhat akin to love filled him; they had become his family and had filled the void of not having a father and failing at school through lack of confidence.

Ossie, leader of the gang left the others and walked towards him. Ho Boot Legger, dang haven’t seen you in a minute, where you been?

He had never felt easy with the nickname ‘Boot Legger’ but he’d had no choice. Had ‘fings to do Ossie that could not take care of themselves, he lied, having fallen asleep on his bed and overslept.

No fear of you mad-dogging, Lefty said, and the other’s laughed.

No hope of him flat-roofin either,’ Hopalong added, much to Bootlegger’s discomfort.

They moved off down the High Street, pushing and shoving each other while making as much noise as possible. Those people coming towards them would quickly cross the street and hurry away, hoping they would not be picked on. For a while they sat on a bench outside the Craven Arms public house, drinking the cans of beer they had bought with them. Every time any girls went past they cat-called after them, who giggled then walked on.

They aint bovered, Ossie said, feeling bored out of his brain.

The clock was striking eleven when they crowded into the small fish and chip shop, scattering the other customers when Lefty produced a knife and began rubbing it up and down on his jacket, intimidating anyone who might want to take him on.

The man behind the counter stood nervously staring at them, recognising trouble when he saw it, and he was serving on his own.

Sniper grinned, enjoying the discomfort they were causing. That will be six potions of cod and chips, large ones, leaning on the counter to look straight into the man’s eyes.

Arnold kept his cool answering, That will be £18.00, please.

Ossie now took the lead. Look here Grandad, we don’t pay for nothin’ so just get cracking and do the job.

But...

No buts, remember we can take you out in a millisecond, get it?

Arnold wanted to take a stand, however there was his family to think about. The gang waited until he had their order ready, and as he pushed it over the counter Sniper threatened, Call the rozers’ and you’re a dead man.

Further on the six gang members found a hole in the park fence and went inside. They sat on a park bench eating their ill-gotten gains while chewing over the events of that day. In the distance the church clock struck twelve. This is where you turn into a fairy godmother Boot Legger, init?

Boot Legger laughed along with the rest, yet now he was full up he just wanted to go home to his bed.

Time to move on, which one of you got any bright ideas? Ossie asked, wanting to be gone down the road of excitement. No one answered, Backward lot, aint you? I’ve got this danged good idea, follow me, he instructed.

Where to? Sniper enquired.

Spook land, in it, he answered, walking away.

They trailed after their leader down a side street and then carried on up the hill where the darkness was more intense. They had all been born and bred here and yet had no idea where they were being taken. Again the church clock struck one o’clock, this time sounding much nearer.

Lefty stopped for a breather, Where we going man, if it aint to much to ask?

Ossie answered impatiently, We are going to wake up the dead, a real gas, init?

At last they came to the large stone entrance locked up for the night. Ossie carried on past it for some way until he came to where the fence had been broken down. Without hesitation he plunged through, and waited for the others to join him.

Suddenly the moon slid from behind the clouds lighting up their surroundings. Now fancy that, very obliging, Trigger said, feeling all on edge.

The gravel crunched beneath their feet, seeming to shatter the silence. The thick vegetation on either side of them stretched out overhead in strange shapes like aliens, appearing more sinister at this time of night. And everywhere the decayed monuments had a ghostly appearance, leaning at crazy angles.

They were all rendered speechless never having seen anything like it before, until Ossie said, Let’s do the business! Then he went over to one crumbling gravestone where the words had been obliterated by time and with all his strength tried to push it over, frustrated when it would not budge one inch.

For a few moments the others watched, then joined in what they saw as fun. Lefty attacked a more modern stone with his knife, satisfied when he had defaced it with deep cuts.

Hopalong, Sniper and Trigger set their sights on a white angel with outstretched wings, trying to topple it off its plinth. Boot Legger stood back watching in awe, loath to join in because his conscience pricked him. Never-the-less he reluctantly helped, but still the angel made out of marble stood her ground with a smile on her face.

Ossie had always been impatient so he soon got tired of this new game, shouting out, Come on, let’s do a little exploring!

They followed the path onwards until they came to some steps, at the bottom there were two paths leading off in opposite directions. Pick your size nines up, this way will do for a start, he ordered, turning left which led downwards, until below them they saw much larger stone buildings.

Trigger offered an explanation. They are places where whole families are buried, I read about it at school.

Some brain box, Snipper muttered, to no one in particular.

Moving onwards in a circle they tried every door which was locked. The moon was high above them lighting up every detail of the past. The eerie silence was overriding, which caused most of them to want to turn back, but not Ossie who led and demanded they follow.

Hopalong desperately wanted to get away from this scary place with an atmosphere of a lost world. Ossie, I’m flat-roofing here man, let’s shove off, he pleaded, feeling as if the dark shadows were closing in on him.

Wassup Hopalong, you Flat-lining me mate?

Ossie was using a threatening tone of voice, so he quickly replied, Na, nothin like that.

Further on they found a door standing wide open, a dark void beyond which stopped the gang in their tracks. Ossie fished around in his pockets until he came across a small pencil torch he had nicked from a big store. Come on you wassers’ let’s get to it, he ordered, boldly stepping into the dark. The others reluctantly followed keeping close to one another.

Their leader moved