Box Set

By Elfrida Eden Fallowfield

A box is just a box……or is it?
Why must no one touch The Very Special Box?
Is The Beautiful Box really so beautiful - or something more sinister?
Which box hides damning evidence?
Which box hides a brilliant secret?
Open the Box Set to discover the answers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Feb 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781528985574

Elfrida Eden Fallowfield

Elfrida Eden enjoyed a short but interesting career in the theatre as an actress and dancer, where she had many amusing contacts with stars of stage and screen. Her training in ballet enabled her to run her own schools in Australia, Hong Kong and the UK. Her years as a dance teacher allowed her scope for writing and she created many ballets for her pupils. She is also a guest speaker at clubs and institutions. Her first book of short stories, Box Set, was published by Austin Macauley in early 2020.

Book preview

About the Author

Photograph by Alex Kennedy (www.atkphoto.com)

Elfrida Eden enjoyed a short but interesting career in the theatre as an actress and dancer, where she had many amusing contacts with stars of stage and screen.

Her training in ballet enabled her to run her own schools in Australia, Hong Kong and the UK. Her years as a dance teacher allowed her scope for writing and she created many ballets for her pupils.

Elfrida is also a guest speaker at clubs and institutions.

Elfrida is married and lives in Wiltshire.

Dedication

For you

My family and friends

Elfrida Eden Fallowfield

Box Set

Copyright Information

Copyright © Elfrida Eden Fallowfield (2020)

The right of Elfrida Eden Fallowfield 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 part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528985567 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528985574 (ePub e-Book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2020)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgements

Richard Fallowfield for his comments

Juliet Fallowfield for her encouragement

Walter Stephenson for his care

The Unwanted Box

For God’s sake you children, shut up! If you must make that fiendish row, go and make it where I can’t hear you. Vivien slammed the door and marched back to the telephone. I’m so sorry, darling, but those bloody brats always decide to have their loudest quarrels just when I am on the telephone.

Reaching for a cigarette, Vivien then tried to light it while balancing the telephone between her chin and her shoulder.

I’d truly adore to have lunch with you tomorrow darling, she continued, but I simply can’t. I’m taking the children, plus Elizabeth’s two, down to Gerald’s cottage for the week. Even for you I wouldn’t put that off. It’ll be too divine to get rid of them for a whole week. I was a fool to have sacked Sandra, but, honestly, for a nanny she was seriously getting above herself, and never stopped complaining.

Upstairs Vivien’s two children, Shaun and Amanda, nearly 10 and just 8, were having a violent quarrel. The sounds of their shrill voices echoed down the stairs and drummed into Vivien’s head. She finished her telephone conversation, inhaled deeply on her cigarette, and wandered over to the mirror.

Vivien stood there looking at herself critically. She decided that despite a bad marriage and lousy divorce, followed by rather too many disastrous affairs, she still looked bloody good.

Her dark hair she kept in a young, shoulder-length style, and she prided herself in knowing she always looked immaculately groomed and expensively dressed. (At least she had won a decent settlement from that bastard to whom she had been married for far too long.) Admittedly she took hours over her face every morning, and had a standing appointment with her hairdresser twice weekly, with a comb out in between if it was needed.

Working out at the gym three times a week was exhausting but essential. Her friends sometimes said to her, Darling – you can’t just exist on a lettuce leaf. But Vivien knew they were secretly envious that at the grand old age of 36 she had a pretty perfect figure, and little did they know how hard she worked to achieve and maintain it.

The sound of the children still squabbling reminded Vivien that she must see to their packing. Blast Sandra. She had walked out instantly before any replacement could be found, and Vivien was not sure she knew where all the children’s bits and pieces were kept. Oh well – she’d just shove in what she could find and that would jolly well have to do.

The following day Vivien was taking them to Gerald’s cottage in the New Forest, along with Elizabeth’s two boys. Elizabeth had been Gerald’s wife and she had been killed in a car accident nearly two years ago in 1967. The boys lived with their grandparents during term time but visited their father every holiday.

Elizabeth had been Vivien’s best and only true friend. Only with Elizabeth had Vivien come near to being honest with herself. Only Elizabeth had managed to make her feel a little compassion, a little shame and a little love that was genuine. She missed Elizabeth more than she dared admit.

There were times when Vivien had broken off yet another affair, or been particularly unjust to her children, that she would think of Elizabeth. She saw, in her mind’s eye, a face, not really disapproving, but just serious with slightly sad eyes. Vivien would have to fight with herself to squash the surge of guilt that would rush upon her. She had never been able to lie to Elizabeth. She had never been able to put on the grand act of sophistication and worldliness that she could do so well now, that it had become, in fact, her true self.

__________________________

The traffic was worse than she expected at Hammersmith. Vivien was working herself up into a flaming temper. Hell – it was bad enough actually having to drive the children all the way there – (she was sure they would have been perfectly all right on a train) – but Gerald had made her promise to deliver them herself. No sooner would she arrive than it would be time to come straight back. She was having dinner with the Elliots that night. Nothing very exciting. She didn’t even particularly like them. Serena Elliot was so arch and desperately trying to become Viven’s New Best Friend. Anyway, they might surprise her and have someone interesting there, you never know, and besides, if she hadn’t accepted she would have had two nights on the trot with nothing to do.

She was sure Gerald would want her to stay for a while, but she couldn’t possibly if she was to get back to London in time.

Gerald. It was funny the way she tried not to think of him too much. It was rather embarrassing really, the way he appeared to assume that Vivien would automatically be great friends with him – just because of Elizabeth. In fact, he was the one man Vivien never felt really relaxed with. It was odd, but try as she might to use all the phrases and clichés she knew so well, they never seemed to sound quite so clever with Gerald. She felt uneasy – and awkward, often even gauche.

Somehow Gerald always made her feel that her make-up was too heavy, and her skirts too short. Already she could feel the knot of tension in her stomach, and she knew that all she wanted to do, was to drop the children – and fly.

The children – her two, and Brian and Anthony – were chattering excitedly in the back of the car.

Daddy promised he would have a bigger pony these hols so that two of us could go for a ride together.

Gosh – that would be super. Perhaps we could explore that new enclosure we found in the forest and see where the stream finishes up?

I wonder if Bunty has had any more kittens?

I jolly well hope he’s got a decent tea waiting for us. I’m absolutely starving.

Me too. Aren’t you hungry too Mummy?

Do you have to talk to me just now? You know I don’t like being disturbed while I am driving. It’s bad enough anyway without all you lot squawking in the back.

Everyone was relieved when at last they drove over the cattle grid that signified the beginning of the forest proper. The children could hardly contain their excitement when they spotted their first New Forest ponies.

Oh look at that darling little foal!

Look, look, oh do look, there’s a donkey. Oh isn’t he sweet.

Somehow that moment of crossing the cattle grid and driving onto a road completely surrounded by trees had a magical effect on the children.

The sun was shining. The forest looks its best in the sunlight. The pale green leaves of early Summer gave the woods an air of being underwater, so fragile and ethereal their beauty.

Trees stretched out their branches to each other, forming an archway over the road. Their dappled shadows combined with the deeper shadows of the grazing ponies entranced the children – and made Vivien’s eyes squint.

It looks like fairyland, said Amanda in a hushed voice.

Gerald’s boys said nothing. Perhaps the excitement of seeing their father was tinged with the sadness of knowing they had lost their mother.

Brian and Anthony missed their mother very much. She had not shouted in the way Shaun and Amanda’s mummy did. Brian was the eldest, at nine, and he put a protective arm around his little brother of six whenever Vivien sounded cross.

At last, they reached the turn into Gerald’s long drive. Vivien glanced at herself in the driving mirror. The sun poured into the car, and onto her reflection of caked Pancake and screwed-up eyes. She felt in the glove compartment for her dark glasses and put them on.

Bet I can see the house first!

No you won’t. I will.

There it is – there it is!

There’s Daddy waiting for us. He must have heard the car. Hello Daddy – hello!

Hello Uncle Gerald! We’re here at last!

Hello Gerald. Vivien greeted him with a perfunctory peck on the cheek. It’s nice to see you again.

Since the death of Elizabeth Gerald had chosen to stay mostly at their country place. He had always loved the soil and the happy memories of their life there together tied him closer to his peaceful if empty house.

Gerald was often described as a quiet-looking man. He did give that impression although Elizabeth always said, People just don’t know him. There is so much more to Gerald than meets the eye, as I have been so lucky to discover.

Although in his early fifties, Gerald still had the figure of a much younger man. His grey eyes could be sad, but he had a quick and ready smile, and this was in evidence as he greeted them all with open arms.

Hello you lot. Lovely to see you all. So – let’s get everything out of the car and into your rooms before we do anything else.

Tumbling over each other with excitement the children carried their bags up to their rooms. The boys helped Amanda who only had one hand free as the other was clasping Burly Bear without whom she would not travel.

The bags were hurled unceremoniously into their allotted rooms, and back they raced to Gerald.

"My how you have all grown! It looks as though you’ll be too big for the new pony I’ve got for you. Yes, he is here now. His name is Patch – and it will be fairly obvious why. Go and catch him if you can, but don’t be too noisy. He is wearing a head collar and is very friendly, especially if you give him a carrot. There are a few in the bucket by the gate.

Don’t be too long, he called after them, as I have an extra special tea laid on for you.

With whoops of delight, the children bounded off in the direction of the paddock. Smiling, Gerald turned to Vivien and said, You’ll stay for a while, won’t you Vivien? I have enough food for dinner, or if you prefer we could always go to the pub. They have quite a good menu now. Dear Mrs Johns is here as usual to help with the gang. It would be good to catch up on your life.

Gerald. It is too sweet of you, but I’m afraid I can’t. I am bidden to go out to dinner tonight, and as it is, I will be pushed to get back in time to get dressed and so on.

Oh, Gerald’s disappointment was plain. I was so hoping – well, never mind, at least you’ll stay for tea? It’s rather a special one for the children, and it’ll be fun to see them tucking into it.

"No – I’m sorry. You see I promised – I mean I really must be getting back. It’s been lovely seeing you but I truly must fly. You can say goodbye to the children for me. Next time you’re in London, do look me up. So sorry