Tales from the Other Side

By Iain Mackenzie-Blair

Thirty years ago the author decided to send a different sort of Christmas card, and provide his fans, friends and readers with some inexplicable stories: The Schoolmarm’s Tale became the first of what turned out to be popular Tales From The Other Side. This first collection by Ian Mackenzie-Blair is a selection of this highly popular tales.
A mountaineer who finds a still-smoking pipe on a ledge halfway up a Very Severe climb decides to return it to the unknown climber who was obviously just ahead of him and only then discovers....
An understanding Primary School Reception Class teacher warmly welcomes the last, extremely shy, new boy on his first morning, when he arrives some time after the school day has started...but only understands why he was late when the Head tells her why...
...and much much more...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amolibros
• Release date: Jan 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781912335398

Iain Mackenzie-Blair

Iain Mackenzie-Blair lives beside the Minch in Wester Ross, looking across to the Outer Isles. Past winner of the Petra Kenney and Neill Gunn prizes; collections Aultgrishan, Waiting for Ginger Rogers at Loch Oich, Remembering Falstaff and Others from diehard; Disciplines of War (New and Selected Poems) BBC Radio 4 Poetry Please: 2017 Biblioţicii Naţionale României & Edinburgh; ANTOLOGIA POETILOR SCOTIENTI Anthology of 16 Scottish Poets Prose. The Climber’s Tale won the 2014 Mountaineering .Council of Scotland Fiction Prize). School Story 2005 is now the trilogy I Drift; II Blood; III Fall on Amazon as a Kindle e-book, as is his most recent novel Guardians 2019.

Book preview

Tales From the Other Side

by Iain Mackenzie-Blair

Published as an ebook by Amolibros at Smashwords 2023

Contents

Notices

The Schoolmarm’s Tale

The Aunt’s Tale

The Archaeologist’s Tale

The Accomplice’s Tale

The Cyclists’ Tale

The Climber’s Tale

The Subaltern’s Tale

The Surveyor’s Tale

The Local Historian’s Tale

The Bachelor’s Tale

The Motorist’s Tale

The Detective’s Tale

The Satellite Navigator’s Tale

The Piper’s Tale

The Dreamer’s Tale

About this book

About the author

Notices

Published by Amolibros 2023

Copyright © Iain Mackenzie-Blair 2023

Published electronically by Amolibros 2023 | Amolibros, Loundshay Manor Cottage, Preston Bowyer, Milverton, Somerset, TA4 1QF | http://www.amolibros.com | [e-mail]

Cover image attribution: Istockphoto, 2nd Look Graphics

Cover design by Jane F Tatam

The right of Iain Mackenzie-Blair to be identified as the author of the work has been asserted herein in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

Except for certain historical figures, all the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely imaginary

This book production has been managed by Amolibros | http://www.amolibros.com

To dear old Cam

1st January 2000 – 23rd May 2022

(She died in her 23rd year on Shakespeare’s birthday)

The Schoolmarm’s Tale

Perhaps I really ought to make this the last time… Retire? Only a little early… Almost forty years… And after what has happened this time… Make this my last autumn term… But then what would I do next September?… I’ve always thought I’d miss it…until now. It’s been so much of my life… All my life some would say! Particularly the Autumn term…especially the first day… That’s when I can put faces to the names on the Class Register for the first time. Though now I wonder about the first day…

Reception…such a good name for it…for their first ever class that is, it’s been my privilege to receive them…to begin to watch personalities emerge…and develop…especially the shy ones… And what I’ve noticed is that the shyest of all are more often boys than girls, would you believe? No teacher should ever have favourites of course…but the shy ones always need something extra in the way of encouragement…’ Encouragement is why we have such a proud reputation,’ Sister Helen tells us…

St Peter’s Primary School itself may be out of date – our windows overlook a very noisy High Street and on damp days the paintings on our classroom walls sag from their drawing pin – but it’s small and it’s friendly. Our term began six weeks ago beneath a summery blue sky with our high-walled playground full of running laughing children. They always look so spick and span in their new school outfits, so sunburned and golden.

I’ve never married and, truth to tell, I’ve always found the long summer holiday a bit lonely, so I really look forward to the first morning of the Autumn term.

At least I used to.

*

Just before nine o’clock I found the usual apprehensive group of little new ones clinging to Mummy, or an elder sister. So I ushered them all into my classroom. It’s the sunniest in St Peter’s and one wall is completely covered by splendid orange sunflowers. They were painted by last year’s Reception Class.

Eventually I persuaded even the most doting mum to leave her child and depart. One or two were a bit tearful – mothers I mean; the children were bright as buttons by then. I sat everyone in a circle. Fraser and Jenny closed the windows for me – what with car horns, heavy lorries and even one of those awful braying police siren things just outside, I could hardly make myself heard.

Then we played my Story-game.

*

We invent adventures for Curtain (and I simply can’t remember how a well-worn teddy bear came by that name.) Each child has to make up a bit of the story, but must begin by telling Curtain his or her name. It’s a good way of breaking the ice and it enables me to tick off names surreptitiously in my Class Register. Curtain passed from hand to hand. Or more accurately from hug to hug. By the end of our story, only Jonathan Wright, the last name on my list, had not arrived.

The door opened.

You must be Jonathan Wright, I said. "This is Curtain and he’s been expecting you. You can put your anorak here." He was very shy and handed it over without a word. But he gave me a most marvellous smile of pure happiness as he cuddled Curtain.

I’ve always had a particularly soft spot for children with auburn hair – especially the little boys. Small things told me he came from an affectionate, happy, home. His green St Peter’s jersey was new, of course, but the rest of his clothes were spotless too and of good quality – certainly not the cheapest. He had very clean fingernails – always a good sign – and I could see that his small brown sandals were lovingly polished every day. He had such well-shaped sturdy little legs.

How I envied his parents.

Anyhow I remember telling myself not to be silly. I’ve been teaching quite long enough to know that much-loved little boys don’t need middle-aged spinsters adoring them.

The morning sped by, quite free from home-sickness, tears and squabbles. Even Milk Break was miraculously free from spillage. And then suddenly it was time to go home. Reception Class finishes at twelve for the first few days. As they scrambled into their coats and anoraks, I reminded them that they must never, EVER, leave my classroom until somebody has appeared to collect them.

Most mothers, a little anxious, had arrived early, so by the time twelve struck at St Peter’s next door, only Jonathan and a couple of others were still waiting. He was sitting slightly apart from them, hugging Curtain for dear life. He’d not said a word all morning, but he was smiling the broadest, blue-eyed smile you’ve ever seen.

I slipped out with the Register. Mrs Macleod likes to have it on her desk by midday and when I returned two minutes later, all three had gone. Well four really – Curtain as well! That did not surprise me. Curtain is often ‘adopted’ for an overnight stay at home, which is why he has a luggage label tied to him. I was still putting away the last of the paint-pots when Mrs Macleod looked in, Sister Helena wondered if you could spare a minute. She’s our Head…Sister Helena I mean…Mrs Macleod’s our part-time Secretary.

I know it’s silly but whenever I knock at Sister Helena’s study door I feel as though I’m back at school. This time her Come in sounded less welcoming than usual. A woman I did not recognise stood with her back to us, looking out of the window.

Jonathan Wright, Sister Helena began.

Unfortunately, when I’m nervous, I always become too effusive. Oh yes, I said. "What a lovely little boy. A bit shy perhaps, but an absolute dear. I’m quite sure he and I will get on like a house on fire. And, I remember adding, with that smile and that gorgeous hair, he’ll break a lot of hearts one day…"

Miss Mackenzie, Sister Helena interrupted, rather abruptly it seemed to me." This is Mrs Wright."

The woman turned from the window. I saw she was holding Curtain.

"Oh, that’s alright, I began, do let Jonathan…"

Then I was transfixed by her tear-stained face of utter anguish. A dreadful certainty gripped my heart. Jonathan