The Lower Strangling Chronicles
Dave Peterson was relaxing in his living room after a busy week in the capital when he received an unexpected phone call from his older brother Jeff.
”Jeff,” Dave said, a broad grin on his face. “Long time no see. How’s things with you?”
The heavy sigh on the other end of the line was all Dave needed to hear. This wasn’t merely a social call.
He stooped in his seat, wrinkling his brow.
”I’m at the hospital with mum,” Jeff said after a while. “She hasn’t got long left.”
Dave’s eyes darted towards the clock mounted on the wall.
He leaned further forward. “What sort of time-span are we thinking?”
”Only a few hours,” Jeff said. “If you get down here immediately, you might be able to catch her before she goes.”
Dave glanced at the clock once more. His chin dipped down to his chest.
”I don’t think I’m gonna make it, I’m afraid,” Dave said, sitting back in the sofa and covering his eyes. “Somehow, I don’t see the kids thinking grandma dying is a valid excuse to curtail their lie-in.”
“Fine, fine,” Jeff said. “At least one of us is here to see her off.”
Dave stared down at his feet, focusing on his knees.
He, along with the rest of his family, was present at the death of his father.*
Now, only Jeff would be present for the death of their mother.
Dave took a deep, pained breath and closed his eyes. “Is it possible for me to talk to her now?”
”You could try,” Jeff said. “But she’s not particularly responsive at the moment.”
Dave waited with bated breath as Jeff handed the phone to his mother.
He pawed a hand through his hair as he heard slow, raspy breaths on the other side.
”Hello,” a frail voice called.
Dave felt tight in his chest as he pressed the phone against his ear.
”Mum, hi. It’s me,” Dave said, his chin quivering.
“Who’s that?” the frail voice said.
Dave’s feet bounced on the floor. “It’s Dave, mum.”
There was a deathly pause over the phone, which was broken by “Oh, David, hello.”
A slow smile built on Dave’s face. “Look, I’m sorry I’m not there in person.”
He heard a croaky chortle over the phone.
“Don’t worry, David,” Mary Peterson said on the other end of the line. “I don’t love you any less.”
Dave chuckled, but his eyes were wet.
The smile faded from his face when he heard what he thought was the sound of his mother’s soul leaving her body.
“Mum,” Dave said, his hand red from clutching the phone as tight as possible.
“David,” Mary said after a while. “There’s something you need to do for me.”
Dave’s eyes widened. “Sure, mum, what is it?”
”When you next visit the house,” Mary said, referring to the 15th-century house in Kent she’d lived in with her husband before he died.
“Ok, what do I need to do?” Dave said, his heart pounding in his chest.
”Find the net,” Mary said. “Your father would want you to have it.”
”What net is this? Why’s it essential, Mum? Mum?” Dave said, blinking rapidly.
But there was silence. Somehow, Dave knew what that meant.
He sank into the back of the sofa and rubbed his face.
”She’s gone,” Jeff said.
“You said she had a few hours,” Dave said, his facial features downturned. “That was more like a few minutes.”
“I overestimated,” Jeff said. “But at least you got to talk to her.”
”She was saying something about a net,” Dave said, rubbing his forehead. “Do you know anything about that?”
”No, not really,” Jeff said. “It was something she waited until her dying breath to tell us.”
”Dad wasn’t involved in some nefarious ploy, was he?” Dave said, his bulging eyes darting around the room. “Was he involved in Harry Taylor’s assassination?”**
Paul laughed down the phone. “No. I know Dad wasn’t particularly a fan of the band, but he wasn’t the type to be involved in murder.”
Dave slammed his head on the back of the sofa. “No, I suppose not.”
”Calm down. I’m sure this net isn’t anything to worry about,” Jeff said.
”But she wants me to have it,” Dave said, resting his head on his free arm. “So it must be important in some capacity.”
”I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Jeff said. “Right. I’m going home. See you at the funeral.”
”Sure,” Dave said. “Or at our parents’ old house, when we get round to sorting it out.”
Jeff guffawed down the phone. “Yes, we could find the net together.”
”Yeah, yeah,” Dave said, sighing. “Anyway, see you.”
”Yes, see you,” Jeff said. “Bye.”
Jeff ended the call, and Dave sighed as he sank deeper into the sofa.
Dave’s hands shook as he let the reality of his mother’s death dawn on him.
His posture collapsed, arms almost touching the floor.
Dave flinched as the door swung open and his wife Sarah breezed into the room.
”Morning, Dave,” Sarah said, a bright smile on her face. “Everything alright?”
Dave shot out of the sofa, brushed himself down, and returned his wife’s grin.
“Yeah,” Dave said, clearing his throat. “Well, my mum’s just died, but otherwise everything’s ok.”
Sarah frowned and bowed her head. “Oh, Dave.”
She brought her husband into a tight embrace.
”It’s fine,” Dave said, sighing. “Death happens. Two down, three to go. Jeff, most likely, if we’re basing it on age.”
Sarah let a dark laugh escape her. She rolled her eyes.
”Also, another trip to Kent is on the cards,” Dave said, his face appearing chirpier. “One last visit to Mum and Dad’s.”
”Oh, that would be nice,” Sarah said, agreeing. “Although it will be a bit morbid going there with you now that your parents have just died.”
”Yeah,” Dave said. “We need to search the house for a net and bring it home.”
Sarah’s eyebrows furrowed before releasing. “Oh, ok.”
“Yeah, mum used her dying breath to tell me to find this net so I can-“
Dave was cut off mid-sentence when someone knocked loudly on the door, startling both him and his wife.
They glanced at each other momentarily before making their way towards the door.
”Good morning, both,” Simon Abernathy, Lower Strangling’s parish priest, said from the doorway of the Petersons’ manor. “I wondered if you knew who this belonged to.”
He held up a small stuffed toy fox, which Dave scrutinised.
”It has a little voice box which activates when you press its paw, but it no longer works,” Simon said before pushing the fox’s paw.
Dave grimaced at the mangled sound of an AA battery’s last moments of life, which reminded him too much of Mary’s final moments for his liking.
He observed his wife, trying to read her reaction, then turned back towards the vicar.
”Sorry, no,” Dave said, scratching his head. “It’s certainly not ours; we threw out Will and Elle’s old toys years ago.”
”I found it outside your front gate just now,” Simon said, examining the toy. “It seemed quite deliberately placed, almost like an offering.”
”Well, I am known to have many adoring fans,” Dave said, gawping at the fox.
”Really,” Simon said, grinning at Dave. “I was not aware of your wide-reaching fame.”
”That was because he’s being facetious,” Sarah said, squinting at the vicar. “Aren’t you, Dave?”
”Oh yeah, yeah,” Dave said, staring blankly into space.
”I’m thinking of holding an impromptu village council meeting,” Simon said, holding his head up high and puffing his chest out. “So that together we can trace the toy’s origins and return it to its owner.”
“Does a small bit of lost property warrant an emergency council meeting?” Dave said, viewing the soft toy in Simon’s hand.
“The fox’s owner most likely thinks so,” Simon said, hugging the animal close to his chest. “But, if you don’t think so, we’ll be able to cope with your absence.”
“No, no, I’ll come,” Dave said, stroking his hair. “It’ll keep my mind off… other things.”
Sarah tilted her head and fixated on Dave, her eyebrows drawing together.
”Wonderful,” Simon said. “We’ll convene in the village hall at ten o’clock sharp.”
“Great, see you then,” Dave said.
”God bless you both,” Simon said, bowing before descending the path into the main village, humming a hymn to himself.
”Well, that’s today’s itinerary sorted,” Dave said before retreating into the cosy confines of the manor.
Sarah watched him with raised eyebrows, pursing her lips, before closing the door and following him.
“This is like those Lego pieces that washed up onto the shore on that beach in Kent,” John Granger, the landlord of Lower Strangling’s pub, the Hangman’s Noose, said, leaning forward and bringing his chair closer to the lost toy.
”Yes, I suppose it is, in a way,” Simon said, before biting into a ginger nut biscuit. “Except some poor child has lost this toy instead of it merely falling out of a container.”
“Did anyone notice any young kids running around the village yesterday?” Janet said, taking a sip of her Earl Grey tea. “Potentially a three-year-old?”
The Lower Strangling Village Council members regarded each other, but none said a word.
A few people shook their heads, and others shrugged.
Dave was caught off guard by his phone ringing in his pocket.
He glanced at it; it was a call from Jeff.
”Sorry, I need to take this,” Dave said, standing up and shuffling towards the exit. “It’s a family matter.”
Simon smiled warmly and bowed as head as Dave slipped through the front door and out of sight.
The Village Council stared at the door for a while before returning to its task.
”A young family must have been travelling through the village yesterday, when the youngest dropped the toy,” Simon said, leaning forward towards the circle. “They probably didn’t realise the toy was missing until they returned home.”
”How d’we get hold of them?” John said, crossing his arms. “It’s not as if we keep a database of everyone who passes through the village.”
“No, but hopefully they’ll return to find it again,” Simon said, reaching for another ginger nut biscuit.
“Unless they live too far away,” Robert Sherman, Lower Strangling’s brewer, said, crossing his arms. “They could have come from London.”
“Then they shall call the church,” Simon said. “And I will happily post the toy back to them.”
Dave quietly slipped back through the door and traipsed back to his seat.
”Perhaps you’ll be able to take a photograph and post it on our Facebook page, Dave,” Simon said, clasping his hands and smiling in Dave’s direction.
Dave gawped at Simon. “Yeah, yeah. I could do that.”
He eased himself out of his chair, bringing his phone out of his pocket as he did so, and shuffled over to the stuffed fox.
”Everything alright, Dave?” John asked, a frown on his face. “You don‘t seem your best self.”
”I’m fine, I’m fine,” Dave said, brushing John away as he got into the best position to photograph the Fox. “Just another busy day at work.”
He took a few portraits of the toy for good measure and then handed the phone to Simon.
“There,” Dave said, shoving the phone in Simon’s face. “Any good?”
”There’s marvellous, Dave,” Simon said, swiping through each photo. “And are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yeah,” Janet said, crossing her arms and grimacing at Dave. “John’s right. You do seem a bit off.”
“I’m fine, really,” Dave said, a forced smile on his face. “I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. There’s no need to worry about me.”
Simon sat up in his seat. “Well, now that we seem to have a plan of action, I guess we can call it a day.”
The other members of the council beamed from ear to ear at the news, picking up their chairs and putting them aside.
“See you all next Tuesday for our regular meeting,” Simon said as he placed his chair onto a pile.
“I’ll put up the lost property post on our page now,” Dave said, already edging towards the door.
”Excellent,” Simon said. “But also feel free to pop into the vicarage at any time to go over things that may be bothering you.”
”I’m just tired, Simon,” Dave said, swinging open the door. “See ya.”
Dave flew through the door and out into the village.
Simon watched the door before putting away the refreshments.
Dave posted the lost property advert onto Lower Strangling’s Facebook page, and a response from the grateful mother of the toy’s mother came only a few seconds later.
Dave offered to post the toy to her on Simon’s behalf but insisted on retrieving it in person.
She arrived at St Gerald the Damned two hours later.
“Thank you so much for picking it up,” the mother said. “Charlotte’s been crying nonstop since we came home last night.”
Simon simpered at the woman. “The pleasure’s all ours. We can all sleep soundly tonight knowing the little fox is back home.”
”She’s going to be so happy when she sees him again,” the mother said, hugging the toy tightly.
”I’ve placed some new batteries in the toy,” Simon said, pointing towards the fox’s poor. “There’s no need to repay me, I was just doing a good deed.”
The mother smirked at Simon, then scanned her surroundings. “Lovely village you’ve got here, isn’t it?”
”Yes,” Simon said, nodding in acknowledgement. “I hope you had an enjoyable visit, despite the commotion with the toy.”
”We did, very much so,” the mother said, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “You’ll be seeing us again.”
I’m glad to hear it,” Simon said. “Hopefully, you won’t lose any more toys.”
The mother laughed. “No, I should hope not. Anyway, thanks for keeping the toy for us.”
Simon bowed his head. “All in a day’s work. God bless”
The mother strode back to her car, biding farewell to Simon as she did so.
Simon watched her driving off in her car before retreating into the church, but then he spotted Sarah going for a walk.
He locked the door to the church and shot off down the path towards Sarah.
”Sarah,” he said, grinding to a halt before her. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you know what’s going on with Dave.”
Sarah sighed, her body buckling as she did so. “His mother died this morning.”
”Ah,” Simon said, his grin turning into a frown. “That would explain his demeanour at the council meeting.”
”I think he’s also annoyed at himself for not being present for her death,” Sarah said.
Simon sighed deeply, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Do send him my condolences,” Simon said. “And let him know that I am available twenty-four seven to support him during his grief.”
”He won’t want any fuss,” Sarah said, staring at the road. “Emotions aren’t the Petersons’ forte, nor the Lancasters’ for that matter.”
”I see,” Simon said, before switching to a more jovial mood in a matter of seconds. “Anyway, see you on Sunday if I don’t see you before then.”
He bowed to Sarah before trekking up the hill towards the church.
Sarah continued on her walk through the village.
“You really should have told them about Mary,” Sarah said once she had returned home from her walk.
“It’s not their problem,” Dave said, sipping his tea. “What happens to the Petersons stays with the Petersons.”
”But it’s impossible to act like everything’s alright convincingly,” Sarah said, placing a hand on Dave’s arm. “The others noticed something wasn’t right.”
Dave stared at Sarah for a moment before whipping out his diary. “So, when are you available to go to Kent?”
Sarah sat back in her seat, noting her husband’s desire to change the subject. “Bank holiday weekend would be fine, if we’re bringing Will and Eleanor, of course.”
”Yeah, I guess they should know about their grandparents’ dark past involving a net,” Dave said, sipping his tea. “Unless the plan is to keep it a secret until we both die, then pass it on to them.”
Sarah glared at Dave over the rim of her cup. “Don’t we need to be sure Jeff’s available then, too?”
“He’ll be free,” Dave said, fixating on his laptop screen. “Quitting music and international fame full time has left him with much time on his hands.”
Sarah rolled her eyes as she finished the dregs of her tea. “Pizza and chips, ok with you?”
Dave grinned at his wife. “That’d be great, thanks.”
Sarah sauntered out of the room to prepare the meal, while Dave tapped away on his keyboard as he booked the nearest and cheapest hotel near his parents’ old house.
For the first time since his mother’s death, Dave was genuinely happy.
He couldn’t help but find the idea of going on a scavenger hunt for an item hidden inside a 16th-century house connected to his parents’ lost history exciting.
* To discover how that played out, read: https://thelowerstranglingchronicles.com/2021/08/23/goodbye-mr-peterson/
** For the full detailed account of the incident, read: https://thelowerstranglingchronicles.com/2020/12/08/the-assassination-of-harry-taylor/
The Robinsonverse 