Mickey's Miracle

By Jess Rylatt

This is a story about Sharon, a girl from a fairly poor background in a Northern town. Sharon is made pregnant by her boyfriend, who accepts no responsibility for the child. The baby is later vaccine damaged and becomes severely handicapped. A legal case is brought against the drug manufacturers. The child is one of a group of handicapped children who are miraculously healed during a historical re-enactment of a pilgrimage to a re-discovered Saxon saint, arousing the suspicion and dislike of the religious and medical establishments.

Disclaimer:
The book sets out to depict characters and backgrounds realistically, but is intended to be entertaining. For this reason you should be warned that it contains some sexual content, swearing and racist language.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781326987534

Book preview

Mickey's Miracle

Mickey's Miracle

Jess Rylatt

Copyright

Copyright © 2017 by Jess Rylatt

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2017

ISBN 978-1-326-98753-4

JRG Publishing UK

Chapter 1

The town was big enough and prosperous enough to support several of the nightclubs and casinos that were spawned by the late fifties and early sixties.  Before that there had been a flourishing culture of pubs and working men's clubs. There were also a few hotels. All these provided jobs for youngsters who wouldn't or couldn't do a nine to five job in office or factory.  With the jobs came opportunities to make a little extra on the side.  Some few people with cool heads profited by these opportunities, others were sucked in and exploited. 

Lisa, the third of four children, left school in 1958 and was apprenticed to a hairdresser by her mother. Many of the regular customers were employed by the bars and hotels, and Lisa envied what appeared to her to be a glamorous life-style.  She was easily persuaded to leave the hairdressers to work in a hotel bar.  Her mother threw her out of the house, but the hotel provided her with a tiny room. The hotel doorman soon appropriated her as a member of his string of willing girls who worked on commission - he took the money and passed on a little of it to the girls.  When she was sacked from the hotel bar for general inefficiency, he found her a job in one of the pubs.  This only lasted until the landlord's wife found her in the cellar with her husband.  This set the pattern for the next few years, and eventually she reluctantly gave birth to a tiny baby girl - father unknown - in a hostel.  She refused to part with the baby for adoption, and the two of them ended up in a bedsitter in a house that was a brothel in all but name.  The other residents, two of which had also had babies with them, gave each other some support but were just as likely to come to blows over minor disagreements. 

Lisa made her living entirely on the streets at first, but when Sharon was two she went back to one of the pubs she had worked at before, where the landlord's wife had finally had enough and left. The landlord was a violent man, and soon Lisa was regretting the move - so she moved again, as a live-in chambermaid at a country hotel.  This meant long hours and hard work, so she soon moved in with another man. The next few years followed the same pattern, and in the prosperous sixties there was always another place to which she could go, each to prove as disappointing as the rest.

When Sharon was five, Jason, a tall West Indian with ambitions and a talent for hard work, fell for Lisa's blonde helplessness.  When Lisa became pregnant, they had a proper church wedding, attended by his large family. They moved to a house on a new council estate.

Jason transformed the lives of Lisa and the five-year old Sharon.  Materially there was a respectable home with a regular pay packet.  More significantly for Lisa, there was Jason's kindness and unflagging patience, which eventually changed her into the contented mother of his two children and an adequate housewife.  Sharon was the odd one out.  Her mother's previous boyfriends had taught her that men could be exploited for sweets and treats but that they could also be savage and hit out.  When her mother had been bruised and battered - physically or psychologically - Lisa would turn to the tiny Sharon.   Cuddled and wept over, Sharon would feel close to her mother.

All this changed with Jason's arrival.  Sharon felt herself more and more excluded, as, without realising it, Lisa pushed Sharon into the background, and discouraged Jason's efforts to make a relationship with the sullen little girl.  When first Anna and then Peter were born, Sharon became more and more of an outsider, spending most of her waking life playing out in the street, coming home only to eat.

Only a very few remarkable people can maintain resentment, and by the time Sharon went to the comprehensive school, her innately placid nature had asserted itself.  Unremarkable and not very bright, she became a member of a large group of girls who hung around together in and out of school.

Then her figure developed.  So did everybody else's in the group, but Sharon's developed rather more strikingly.  From being unnoticed by the boys who hung around the group, she became the one that attracted most of the bawdy comments.  Another girl might have been able to deflect or use this interest, but Sharon simply put up with it.

Towards the end of her last year in school, the career teacher's work experience scheme placed her on a garage forecourt.  Not able to deal with cash, she tidied up the goods for sale, fetched drinks from the machine and polished the petrol pumps. 

Shawn was fair-haired, skinny, aggressive and dressed in leather jacket and expensive jeans. Petrolling up an expensive car he noticed Sharon picking up litter. Finding that she was nearly at the end of her working day, he took her for a ride, parked up behind a deserted warehouse, and took her into the large back seat of the car. 

Sharon didn't resist much.  Shawn simply overawed her by his fast talk and his fast movements.  Although only twenty himself, he seemed vastly more sophisticated and mature than any of the other boys who had pawed her and who had easily been discouraged by a push and a mouthful of cheek.  The size and smell of the car impressed her. She didn't even raise a protesting hand to object when he lifted her jumper and pulled her bra down, releasing her generous breasts.

He managed to gasp, What a pair of tits! before grabbing them and launching himself at them.  Within five minutes Shawn was pulling his jeans back up and Sharon's bosom was a sticky mess. 

Sharon burst into tears. Shawn paused in the act of tucking his shirt in: What's up?  He was genuinely puzzled. 

The mess, wailed Sharon.  It's all over me! Well, said Shawn reasonably, It would be, wouldn't it?  I came all over your tits.

Sharon burst into renewed sobbing. Me mam'll kill me. 

Shawn looked at her disbelievingly - so clean yourself up!

What with? hiccupped Sharon.  Shawn looked around and then remembered that Sharon hadn't been carrying a handbag.

I'll have a look, he said. 

Within a very short time he had found some jay cloths in the boot and was hard at work mopping up.  In the process he found himself getting aroused again and loosened off his jeans enough to slide Sharon's unresisting hand inside. Sharon began to feel slightly aroused, and it was Shawn's hastily stuffing a jay cloth down that kept his jeans dry.

Shawn threw himself back against the upholstered seat. Wow, he said. He smiled at Sharon and she tentatively smiled back.  He pulled her towards him so that she fell against his chest and gave her a long kiss.  Then he smacked her sharply on the bottom.

Put them gorgeous tits away, he said.  He shoved her over and got out of the back seat.  Come on, he said impatiently, I gotta job to do. 

Sharon fumbled herself to rights, and climbed out of the car, to get back in the front seat again.  Shawn had started the car up by now and was impatient to get going.

Belt, he said sharply, and again, Put your belt on, you silly cow.  Sharon's eyes filled up but she fastened her seat belt.  He accelerated sharply away.

Where to? he asked, as they stopped at a traffic light.  He glanced at her and saw the tears trickling down her cheeks. 

Now what's the fucking matter? he asked.  He made circling motions with the point of his elbow on her nipple area.  Effing wet blanket you are.

I'm not!  Sharon sat upright.  Anybody'd be upset being called that!

Called what?  Shawn was baffled.

A silly - you know.  As Shawn let in the brake and eased the car to the left, light dawned.

Cow! he said gleefully.  Silly great cow!  No! He was alarmed as Sharon started to sob again, so he slapped her knee hard.

Stop that!  He pulled over into a parking space in front of a row of shops, stopped the engine and looked at her. 

He grabbed a handful of her blond curly hair at the nape of her neck and pulled it hard so her head was pulled backwards.  Then he leaned forward and deliberately bit her neck.  Then he whispered in her ear:

Cows are my favourite animal, see!  And you're my favourite cow. He turned her head and looked into her eyes.  That bite on your neck - that's my brand.  You're my cow, now, gettit?

Yes, Sharon could only respond submissively. 

Good, Shawn let go of her hair and patted her thigh. I don't know your name!

Sharon Smith, she was brightening slowly and looked shyly at him.  What's yours? 

Shawn. He looked at his watch.  Got to get you home, pet.  Eddie'll cut me up if I'm late.

At the end of Sharon's road he stopped the car.  He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, squeezed her breasts and said, casually:

You go down to Dee-Anne's?  Sharon's eyes opened wide.  Not only had she never been to Dee-Anne's nightclub, she didn't know anyone who went. Slowly she shook her head.  Shawn squeezed her breasts again.

Come down Saturday, he said.  I'll see you there - ten o'clock

Sharon looked alarmed.  I couldn't! she said. They wouldn't let me in.

Ask for me at the door, he said.  They'll tell me you're there.

Ask for Shawn? she was doubtful.  Shawn who? 

Just Shawn.  Say I'm Eddie's driver, if they ask.

That your job?  Driving? she asked.

Sort of. he squeezed her breasts one last time, leaned across her and opened the door.  See you Saturday!  She got out slowly and bent down as if to say something.

Shut the door! he commanded, and she did.  The car drove off, fast but with no hard acceleration. She stood looking after it for a moment and then walked slowly home.

The Santer's house was on the better end of a medium sized council estate.  Like many of its neighbours, it was beautifully maintained, and like them had been bought with the help of a council mortgage.  There were still some houses occupied by tenants, one or two of which looked less smart, but none of the gardens were totally given over to rubbish and scrap as was sometimes the case at the bad end of the estate. 

As soon as Sharon walked through the door she could smell baking.  That meant that Grandma Santer, Jason's mother, was child minding.  Lisa contributed towards the cooking with simple straightforward convenience food, but had never bothered with baking. 

Sharon quite liked Grandma Santer, who had always been kind to her.  Sharon had stayed with her on several occasions, starting when Lisa was in hospital having her other babies, and had always had a happy, comfortable and interesting time. 

Right now, though, Sharon was aware that Grandma paid more attention to her than Lisa did, and had sharper eyes.  Sharon called Hello and ran straight upstairs to her bedroom, grabbed a change of clothes and dodged into the bathroom, where she stripped, washed quickly and dressed in trousers and a loose top.  She pushed her clothes under the bed and ran downstairs again. 

In the kitchen, Grandma was ironing.  Sharon gave her a hug.

You came in in a rush, child, she said. No lavvies at that school of yours?

I've been at the garage, said Sharon.  Got something spilt on me front.

There's the washer nearly full, why don' you get them clothes and put them in?

After stuffing her clothes well to the back of the washer, Sharon got herself some milk from the fridge and sat on the stool in the kitchen.  Peter was in the living room watching children's TV. 

Where's Mam? asked Sharon idly.

She's taken Anna to the dentists, said Amy Santer, unplugging the iron. She'll be back soon.

I'm going down to Pat's, said Sharon. Are you staying til she comes back?

I'm staying for tea - and so are you, child, said Amy firmly.

Oh, Gran, said Sharon.  I'll get something later.

Huh, Amy quickly assembled a cheese and lettuce sandwich, added some cake and refilled Sharon's glass of milk.  Pat'll wait - growing girls need feeding.

Gran!  I don't want to grow no more!  Amy laughed and tossed her head. 

You'll find yourself a fellow to appreciate what you've got, girl.  A bright wave of red swept over Sharon's face and neck.  Sharon tried to bury her head in the milk, but she had felt the wave of heat and knew that Amy had noticed.

Well, well, Amy clucked softly.  So you've started with the boys, have you?

Everybody does, mumbled Sharon. 

So they do, agreed Amy.  Just don' get caught too young.  Be careful, girl.  Since this was before AIDS had been heard of Sharon looked unimpressed.

Don't worry, Gran, she said.

I do worry 'bout you, said Amy unhappily.  You're a lot like your Mam - and Lisa had a bad time before she met Jason.  Picked some bad 'uns did Lisa.  Rather say some bad 'uns picked on her, from what I hear.  She stood watching Sharon finishing her snack.

I'm always here - you 'member that.  Any trouble, come you to me.  Don' go to worry your mam with it.  Still not talking to your dad?

Jason's not my dad, Sharon had said this so many times there was no emotion or heat in the statement any more."  Amy nodded. 

You was too old, she said. Take a coat child, as Sharon got up to go.  And here, Amy slipped some coins into Sharon's hand.  Sharon kissed her and went to get a jacket from the cupboard under the stairs.   

Tell Mam where I've gone, she called as she left the house.  She hadn't gone into the sitting room to see her half brother and Amy sighed.  Things still weren't as happy as she would have liked.

In fact, Sharon got on reasonably well with her half brother and her half sister.  Amy had forgotten the behaviour of her own children at the same age.  Sharon would have gone out of her way to see Peter if it had been a special occasion, but on a day to day basis children don't show each other the courtesies that adults do.

Pat lived towards the worse end of the estate.  She was the acknowledged leader of the group of girls with which Sharon hung out.  Pat's family was unknown to Lisa and Jason - if they had known them they might have worried about the company Sharon was keeping. 

Not that Sharon saw much of Pat's family.  Pat's headquarters was a cul-de-sac not far from her home.  There were some garages there, but they were not overlooked by houses. The girls tended to gather there when there was nothing else to do.  It was here that Sharon found Pat and three of the girls painting each other's nails with a dark purple varnish. Exchange of greetings was casual and low key. Sharon fidgetted around chewing her thumb until she caught Pat's eye and moved in closer.

Will you do us a favour? she asked.

Depends, said Pat airily.  What's it worth? The other girls cackled.  It won't be any bother, urged Sharon. Just so I can tell me mam I'm staying at your place Sat'day

Funny idea of no bother! We haven't got a bed spare! said Pat.

Sheela stayed with you, Sharon hung her head but stuck with her request. Didn't you Shee?  One of the girls narrowed her eyes and shrugged.  Shee had to sleep in with me, said Pat.

There, cried Sharon.  So you can say I'm with you - that's if me mam asks.

The rest of the girls had scented something unusual and gathered round where they could see Sharon's face.

You'd have to sleep on your back, said Sheela spitefully, or your big tits'll push Pat out.  The girls crowed with laughter.

She could hang 'em over the edge, spluttered one.

She'll suffocate you if she turns over, screeched another.

Flip flop, Sheela made graphic movements with her hands and the girls all doubled up, even Pat, leaving Sharon looking bewildered.  It was a while before they shut up for long enough to listen to her.

But I don't want to sleep with you Pat... she began.  This provoked a lot more jeering and bawdiness.  Pat was too self-confident to do more than put on a hammish act as a rejected lover.  Sharon got more bewildered and more desperate.

Listen, Pat, she shook her arm earnestly, I just want to tell me mam that's where I am.  I'm not asking to stay - I just thought, as Shee had stayed there... well, you have had someone to stay. She faded into silence. 

The girls all thought about this.  One of them wolf-whistled.  They all stared at Sharon, who couldn't stop the red-hot blush that finally cued them into her meaning. There was a moment when any emotion could have governed them. Ready to snap and snarl at Sharon, or to pull her more into the group and share her experiences, they looked to Pat's leadership.  Sharon waited miserably, looking hopefully at Pat. 

Well, well, Pat started to walk all round Sharon, and Sharon turned around to try and keep her eyes on her face.  Sharon looked like a puppy hoping it wasn't going to get kicked, and Pat was savouring the moment. Pat stopped and closed in.  She brought her face close to Sharon's in mock secrecy and said in a stage whisper, Is it a fellow?  Sharon gulped and nodded.  Pat pulled her face back.

Do you hear that? she said to the others. Our little Sharon's got a date! 

Pat's shrewd brain was exploring all the ramifications of this, while she prodded the others to bawdy suggestions. 

Well, she said eventually, You can tell your mam what you like - won't make much difference to me, like. I won't be the one inside your knickers.

Or between her tits, said Sheela.  They all shrieked with laughter. 

Sharon blushed again, but looked happier. Thanks, Pat, you're a mate, she said gratefully.  Pat waved her hand in a lordly manner.

That's all right, she said grandly.  A favour for a favour.  The other girls looked interested, and waited for Pat to go on. You got to tell us all about it, ain't she, girls?  Everyone nodded.  Sharon looked overpowered but unresentful.  They all hunkered down by one of the garage doors.  Sharon looked to Pat for a cue.

Pat decided to keep something for herself.  We don't want to know his name, do we? The others looked unsure.

None of everybody's fucking business, who, she repeated.  Just Sharon's fucking business, and she gave the girl next to her a hard nudge.  The joke dawned and they all rolled about with laughter, repeating it to each other.  Sharon joined in when she saw the point, and it felt good to her to be part of the group, all laughing together. 

Come on, Shar, said Pat in a warm voice, give us all the gory details.  One of the other girls, Tracey, slipped her arm round Sharon's waist and they all readjusted to sit as comfortably as possible on the cold pavement.

Sharon hesitated. His name... she began.  Pat leaned forward and hit her thigh.

No names, she said warningly.  Sharon nodded.

Sorry Pat - you said not.

So you don't forget. Get on with it.

Yes Pat, Sharon nodded obediently and helplessly. What do I say?

Pat rolled her eyes up to heaven and looked round expressively at the other girls.  Tracey, with her arm around Sharon, shook her gently.

What's he like?  And what's he done to you already? put in another.  And what's he think of your tits? contributed Sheela.

It was me tits... the words were out before Sharon realised, and she put her hand over her mouth and went crimson.  The others rocked with laughter, and Tracey pulled Sharon into her arms, laughing but patting her comfortingly at the same time.

He couldn't help but notice 'em, pet, she said.  I bet he did more than notice, said Pat, regaining the initiative.  Sharon emerged, still blushing, and said defiantly:

Well he did.

Did what?

He did Sharon.  The girls, including Sharon all collapsed into giggles. 

Where did you go? asked Pat.  Sharon could answer this without getting embarrassed.

In his car - well it's one he drives for someone - a great big Merc.

A Merc! the girls were impressed - disbelieving but willing to go along.  In the back seat, said Sharon.  There was lots of room. This partly convinced the others and they looked more attentive. 

Wouldn't have been much of a story in the back of a Mini, said Pat.

It was after work at the forecourt, said Sharon. 

You'd find big cars there, confirmed Pat.

Sharon's account of what had actually happened left the others puzzled and a bit uneasy.  The bite on her neck impressed them - it was beginning to show by now.  Most of their own experience of sex was targetted on their genitals. All of the boys they knew made their first approach by trying to slip a hand under their skirts or down the front of their pants.  They all sauntered down to the park in a thoughtful mood, and it took longer than usual for them to drift apart.  Pat managed to shake off Sheela and walk partway home with Sharon.

What's his name? she asked.  Sharon looked puzzled. You can tell me, said Pat impatiently. Just don't tell all that lot, that's all.  Sharon felt honoured by Pat's singling her out.

The name Shawn didn't mean much to Pat.  The lack of a surname could mean anything - Pat had a very good brain and good memory, except for schoolwork where she kept near the bottom of the class.  Single names were groovy.  It might not be a put-off.  When she prised more details out of Sharon's memory, she came up with the name Eddie and was immediately impressed. 

If that's THE Eddie - you're moving in BIG company Sharon.  If he's Eddie's personal driver - he's got position.  Sharon looked wonderingly at Pat.  Pat's voice had dropped to a whisper, and Sharon whispered back:

What do you mean? Pat looked knowing:

Don't ask - nobody talks about Eddie's business.  Mind yourself with that lot.  Put a foot wrong and you could end up at the bottom of the canal.

Pat shivered.  Sharon shivered in sympathy, but her relatively slow brain and lack of knowledge of the things Pat was hinting at left her unenlightened. 

Do you mean I shouldn't go on Sat'day? she asked her mentor.

He knows your name?  Sharon nodded. And where you live?   

Yes, whispered Sharon. 

Then you better do like he says.  They stood for a moment in silence. 

Would you go if you were me? asked Sharon. 

No choice - one of Eddie's mob asks you, you jump.  I thought you wanted to go.

I'm frightened - I never been to a place like Dee-Anne's before.

Is that where he's taking you? Pat was very impressed.  Sharon scuffed her foot. 

Not taking me - I'm she gulped meeting him there.  At ten o'clock.

Pat looked at her You mean he's not picking you up?  Sharon shook her head.  She tried to defend him to Pat:

He said it's up to me if I want to go or not.  He like seemed to think I might go there on my own. 

The tarts he knows probably do, said Pat.  Sharon started to sob. 

I'm not a tart. Pat put her hand on Sharon's shoulder.

No, no, she said.

And I don't know how they go on at places like Dee-Anne's - or what to wear - or - or - nothing.

Pat stood weighing the pros and cons.  Eddie was top of the heap - her family was more or less involved in the bottom of the same heap.  Pat knew enough to know she had either to make her way out of the heap altogether or to get very near the top herself.  Sometimes the glamour of being the partner of a male high up in criminal circles beckoned - it would be nice to have all her family treating her right for a change - and sometimes the safety and warmth of a regular life like in the magazines seemed the best bet.  Well, she could dip a toe in, and test the water.

Here, she said.  I'll come with you.  You'll have to come to my place - no we'll go to one of me aunties to get done up.  I'll come home with you tomorrow and we'll see what you got to wear.  Okey dokey?

Pat could convince herself that she was making a great sacrifice for her friend, and Sharon needed no convincing. 

Oh Pat!  She looked adoringly at her friend. Fab.  She felt all her troubles lift off her shoulders and she practically skipped home after a push in that direction from Pat. 

Pat made her way home more thoughtfully.  Arrived into the noisy and chaotic atmosphere of a row between her stepfather and one of her brothers, she slid unnoticed in and out of the kitchen where she fixed herself something to eat and took it up to her room.  Her two younger sisters were fast asleep in the lower bunk bed and she ate her supper cross-legged on the top bunk.  She felt excited. She had never bothered with exams in school.  Those few that had been unavoidable she had treated with contempt and had failed.  Had she known it, her excitement now was the same as that of more academic girls when faced with an exam for which they have worked and about which they feel confident but...

Sharon, lying on another bed was also feeling excited.  The pleasure - and to Sharon, honour - of Pat's company on Saturday played a much bigger part in Sharon's mind than her meeting up with Shawn.  Her main worry now was that he wouldn't be there and then she would look small in front of Pat.

Chapter 2

Sharon's mother was in the kitchen when Sharon brought Pat home. 

I'm going to this party on Saturday, Mam, said Sharon.  Pat's going to help me decide what to wear.  Sharon's mother nodded.  And as it's late, I'll stay at Pat's afterwards! she said.  Her mother simply nodded again. The girls took cans of coke and some crisps upstairs to Sharon's bedroom.

You aren't half lucky, not having to share, said Pat.  That's because Jason did the loft out, said Sharon.  Peter sleeps up there!  Sharon had big built-in cupboards in her bedroom - again a product of Jason's do-it-yourself skills.  She hadn't bothered to clear out her cupboards for ages, so a lot of the clothes hanging up didn't fit her anymore.

Why don't you chuck them out, then? asked Pat.  Sharon shrugged. Might as well, she said.  They ended up with a pile of outgrown stuff on the floor and just a few things on the bed. 

That black skirt would do, said Pat, If you had a jazzy top to go with it.

Will these shoes be okay? asked Sharon.  Pat looked at them - they were plain black court shoes.  Can't go wrong, she said.  Maybe a bit higher would be better... but they're okay.  It's just the top.

I could go down town and have a look, said Sharon.

You got any money? asked Pat. 

Some, said Sharon.  She dug in the back of a drawer and pulled out an old-fashioned moneybox.  Opening it she tipped it out on the bed. 

Bleeding hell! said Pat.  You've got a fortune in there! You should hide it better - your sister might help herself! Or that Peter!  Let's see - over thirty quid!

Will that be enough? asked Sharon.

I should say so! said Pat.  Look - are you bothered about new?

What do you mean? asked Sharon.

Well. I've got this Aunty - she's in the second hand clothes business.  Got some classy stuff.  We could go round there - save you some money. 

Would that be all right? asked Sharon.

Of course! said Pat.  In fact - if you bring this stuff along, and she stirred the heap with her foot, she might give you a few bob - knock you a bit off something, anyway.  Or does your Mam want it for your sister?  Sharon shook her head.  The two girls bundled up the clothes into carriers and Sharon picked up some of the money on the bed.

Shall I take it all? she asked.

All that?  Nah!  You take a fiver and some ones - Aunty Lena's prices are daylight robbery, but not that bad!

The girls set off.  Aunty Lena's house had a drive and garage. There was a van backed up to the garage when they arrived.

She's in, said Pat. She sells round the markets as well as to the trade.  Aunty Lena was quite happy to see the girls.  She gave them some milky tea and looked through the clothes they had brought.

Not worth more than a couple of bob, she said.  But it's clean stuff, I'll give you that.

Me friend's wanting a jazzy top, for a party, said Pat.  Something that shows off her best features!  Aunty Lena grinned. 

There's a bit of that sort of party stuff, she said.   "It's in the brown suitcase at the back of the garage.