Ears Have Walls

By Felicity Taylor

Ears Have Walls is a collection of short stories which focuses on each character’s darkest secrets. These characters live in the suburbs of English towns, cities, Northern landscapes, Europe, and beyond. From the first tale to the last everyone is filled with surprise.

A crime of the heart is taking place between Gerald Compton and his mother Hattie. Because of Gerald’s love affair with a younger woman, Hattie is faced with the decision whether or not to murder her husband.

Margaret Grant takes a walk around the city of Nuremburg. She sees who her father really was and is consumed with guilt. Genius Loci: the spirit of place dominates throughout her visit.

Jimmy Chan was given the story of a great Buddhist teacher called Xuanzang. It is now Chinese New Year and the horoscope of The Monkey takes Jimmy back home to his family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: Feb 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370415656

Felicity Taylor

Felicity Taylor was raised in Coventry, Warwickshire, when at the age of nineteen and amidst the Troubles she left England for New Zealand. Several years later she moved to Sydney, Australia and worked on an Italian cruise ship as a social directress around the Pacific Islands. She returned home to study at Middlesex University where she received her degree in Writing and Publishing.

Book preview

About the Author

Felicity Taylor was born in Coventry, Warwickshire. During a varied career she studied: music, the visual arts, and creative writing. After a lifetime of travel she has since settled down in the seaside town of Warrenpoint, County Down, Northern Ireland. With its rural landscape, where the mountains touch down to the sea, it is a great inspiration for all of Felicity’s imaginative stories. Ears Have Walls is the second book of short stories in Felicity’s collection and like her first book Haunting Tales it tells of ordinary people caught up in extraordinary circumstances.

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Dedications

For my daughter, Rachel, currently studying her A-levels.

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Ears Have Walls

Published by Austin Macauley at Smashwords

Copyright 2018, Felicity Taylor

The right of Felicity Taylor to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the

Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All Rights Reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with the written permission of the publisher, or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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A CIP catalogue record for this title is

Available from the British Library.

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www.austinmacauley.com

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Ears Have Walls, 2018

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.

ISBN 9781788233354 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781788233361 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781788233378 (E-Book)

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First Published in 2018

Austin Macauley Publishers.LTD/

CGC-33-01, 25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf, London E14 5LQ

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List of Stories

The Blue Bin

Adam Smyth

Suburban Jolly

A Summer January

Nuremburg

The Japanese Lady with Tea Cup

Shadow Shape

The Auctioneer

Margate

The Doppelganger

Spean Bridge

To Kill Unnecessarily

Lacking in Fibre

Crossing Double Yellow Lines

The Elephant

It’s Raining and the House is Creaking

The Black Square

No Regrets

Blackpool

Fruit and Vegetables

The Black Hole

Industrial Change

The Monkey Tree

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The Blue Bin

A blue bin aligned the front entry of number 41 Prescott Drive. It was overflowing with rubbish and showed each recycled item that waited to be collected. When goodness! From underneath the righthand side of the bin’s rim a mouse raised its weary head. With its nose twitching up to the early morning light the creature took a look all about. There was a frosty freshness in the air which momentarily made the mouse’s foot slip. His nose bumped down on to discarded newspaper and a 3D image was animated. Red, white and black joined in with the bluest of primary colours. Grey turned to nearing frostbite but by the look on the creature’s face it was fear that defined its next movement. The mouse squinted through its pinprick eyes and admitted the silence of place. Then with a ballerina’s balance the mouse met its timing with freedom and jumped its tail out of there.

This is when Gerald Compton arrived and also touched the blue bin.

‘My, my,’ he said, and sniffed at the rubbish.

As a young man, he loved rummaging and discovering. His most favourite things he scavenged for were old biscuit tins.

‘All have their uses,’ he said, ‘and besides,’ he lifted the lid of the blue bin, ‘you never know what you might find.’

Gerald was part of the local neighbourhood watch. His main duties were with the job of recycling. Every fortnight, he took a dander around the nearing vicinity before stopping at the far corner of the cul-de-sac. Semi-detached houses fronted green fields which, in turn, settled the daisy-chain landscape. When, all of a sudden Gerald gave a jump.

‘Codswallop…!’ he shouted, ‘Not much worth searching for today.’

Next came into view was a handbag. He’d bumped into Hattie Compton.

‘Christ, Hattie! You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.’

‘I don’t sneak,’ she huffed, and looked her son square in the face.

She was still dressed from last night’s activities.

‘What are you doing out on the street at this time of day?’ he asked.

‘None of your business,’ she smiled, no one was going to ruin her moment.

Before Gerald was able to say anything else, Hattie about turned from her son. The two beings were now standing motionless as a siren let out its high pitch scream. The sudden sound was enhanced with a flaky blue light which spinning on the centre of a car roof promptly brought the police into view. With a click and a clack one of the officers stepped from the police vehicle. Hattie recognised the officer. It was the young man she’d gone to dinner with a little time ago. A happy time for her which she’d never believed would come again. That is! Until, she went on a shopping spree and stopped down the High Street.

‘I can’t believe you live near the bus depot,’ he’d said.

‘I wish I’d visited the bus more often,’ she said, and especially if I’d known you were near.’

That’s when she’d played the Cinderella card and run away at midnight. Aunt July then arrived and organised the following surprise visit.

‘He’s a bit of a Wally really,’ Hattie answered her sister.

‘Does he know you live in a caravan?’

Hattie shook her head.

‘I wouldn’t say no to living in your caravan.’

‘Most Bibles are black,’ Hattie answered, ‘but some are red or even brown. Nothing is worth fighting for. You know which one did this…?’

They laughed together.

Slowly, Hattie’s attention returned to the moment. The officer’s moustache was old fashioned, like bicycle handles, for one so young; he couldn’t be even thirty, if a day past?

‘How do you know him?’ Gerald asked, not missing a trick.

‘He bought a wheelbarrow at the Have-sham Nursery. You know the one, Gerald? It’s the vintage next to the park with all those tall spindly-fingered leaves. The one near where I used to take you on the swings. The turn off at Leamington Spa before the huge iron gate that led to the carpark.’

‘Yes. Shocking pink was an understatement.’

He stepped slowly back from his mother.

‘We’re not gypsies we’re travellers,’ she reminded him.

The light was bright for the time of the day and showed far too many wrinkles. It was with a smile that created a deeper wrinkle. Gerald spied there was something Hattie wasn’t telling him. It matched the silent pauses in-between which left much to be questioned.

‘This is Edward Shiner,’ Hattie spoke with confidence of her newfound friend.

‘Your son is the one that looks like Elvis...?’

‘He’s hardly Sherlock Holmes,’ Gerald smirked.

‘You both better come with me,’ said the officer in charge.

Hattie looked puzzled but she was up for any excitement. Gerald went into shock. Cautioned, he followed his mother to the police car and on to the station.

Inside the police station the room was cold but the tea was hot. Hattie put her face into her crumpled red hands. The police squad…! That was all she needed. She looked to her handbag and found July’s phone number. It was stuck to a Murray Mint next to Gerald’s car keys.

‘Best give July a call,’ she said.

Gerald followed his mother’s gaze, but said nothing.

Sometimes Gerald caught a glimpse of July at the bedroom window. She lived about two doors down and opposite Smiths garage. She had a figure of a twenty-year old even though she must be forty-five. He never understood why the curtains were sometimes closed. He noticed this the last time he did his rounds. The left side wall was broken… which meant it was obvious that someone had kicked it in. Gerald altered his jumper but only for comfort. The one-time July knew that Gerald was watching her was through field glasses.

A previous time July met Gerald by the big roundabout. There was a smaller one also just before you reached the witches hat. Gerald played darts for the local pub team. His dog went everywhere with him. On this particular day he wore a small blue button in his ear as an earring. Not much else worth mentioning. She admitted that his lack of substance was a dead weight around her neck. She hated taking those youth pills. On the other hand, she shouldn’t have teased him about his father’s Brylcreem habit. His father was called Tony and July often had sex with him instead because Gerald wasn’t into that kind of thing. It was great! And mostly happened on Thursday afternoons when Hattie was doing her supermarket shop. Hattie worked at the local dance studio, which was established above the hairdressing salon. Both were situated in the High Street, where, as well as, she’d make several transactions at her local bank. This is where, on one particular day, Gerald and July met just outside. Yes. In fact, they’d just missed bumping into Hattie and discussed that she made sure the insurance on her husband’s death was paid in monthly instalments.

The morning held a mint sky with candyfloss clouds. Hattie’s fingertips were bleeding from too much exposure of the recent event. By the police station’s austere interior, it was definitely Anglican. Hattie looked to the officer in charge. He was a twenty something year old youth she’d fallen in love with two weeks ago. On special occasions, they ate hot doughnuts and drank gin. The book of life was heavy and well read. It was one of those days that had a dense magic. A rabbit’s foot disappeared under the bushes and she let out a healthy squeal. An orange ball bounced next to the slide and became the sun. Knowledge was the only thing that prevented the outcome of anything else.

‘Homelessness is a condition and not a disease,’ the policeman said, with pride.

He then kissed Hattie by the swings and lifted his next criminal before dropping her off at the local Salvation Army hall. A plate full of sandwiches was left for the taking. He talked of getting in touch with Hattie again, but like most summer holiday romances, he never did. Not unlike today. In that more than ever programmes off the internet used supply and demand for hash-tag user-friendly friends.

‘Edward,’ Hattie began.

Gerald followed his mother’s gaze. He saw no response from the young police officer. His thoughts returned to the blue bin. A yellow plastic washing line was found lying next to the garden fence. Far too much waste was packed into the bin. With this last thought Gerald patted the back of his trousers. He was checking for his penknife. Timing is everything. If Hattie was to marry again, she’d have to get rid of him.

A year later and there was no difference between Hattie and the young policeman’s relationship. That and that! Gerald didn’t fit in with the new kitchen either. Hattie lifted the diamante collar of her son’s denim shirt. A dreary related offence was this momentum as part of the norm. Not to mention! Gerald collecting antique biscuit tins from recycled rubbish. He could be a hard-headed bastard! Although at certain times matters of the heart allowed Gerald to raise his game. That last Huntley & Palmers biscuit tin he found was worth one hundred pounds. He decided that July should have it as a present. She’d pulled him up from the bottom of his trousers. Her favourite breakfast was black coffee and a bowl of yogurt muesli. It all added up to a younger man and older woman relationship. Not unlike the young policeman who had recently served Hattie with a warning that no one talked about.

On returning home Gerald dug a hole and put each item newly scavenged side by side. Hattie threw her shoes into the cupboard under the bed. It was a celebration that often went terribly wrong. She shrugged and also felt that there was something slovenly telling about the rest of her caravan. A packet of sweetbreads is hardly French Cuisine. She touched her curtains made of polyester. They were finished with lemon detail and a