9 Tales From Elsewhere 8 by 9 Tales From Elsewhere

Author:9 Tales From Elsewhere [Elsewhere, 9 Tales From]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bride of Chaos
Published: 2016-08-08T22:00:00+00:00

About two weeks later, I sat by my bedroom window. That morning the sun had woken me with its brightness, but now it was afternoon and the sky was solid grey. I thought of Karen and all the others, sunning themselves in Malia. Drops of rain splashed against the glass. Running down like tears. Even the sheets on my bed were grey, slate with charcoal edges, the colour of an amalgam filling. Really classy, of course at least on a bed, but just then I found them even more miserable than the weather. I got a yellow set out of the cupboard. Maybe they’d help me feel a bit happier.

When I moved my pillow, something underneath it skittered across the bed and landed on the floor. I knelt down. It was a tooth, capped with yellow metal and inset with a lump of bling. The root was still attached. I stared at it: a left upper central. I swear it hadn’t been there the night before.

I sneaked the tooth into work and drilled the cap off while Nat was out at lunch. The metal dented a bit as I gripped it in the forceps, but the stone didn’t scratch when my hand slipped and I touched it with the drill. I held it on my outstretched palm. The metal looked warm somehow, and the stone sparkled. So I took it to the jeweller.

*

Nat and I had to go back to Star Lodge a week later. Stanley was in the lounge, watching Peter Andre’s 60 Minute Makeover.

“What are you doing here?” he said. “I thought you was going on your hols.”

“The money got stolen, remember?”

He leaned forward. “And?”

“Well, funny you should ask but I got it back.” I decided to spare him the details. I had a feeling it wasn’t entirely legit.

“So why are you here?”

“It all happened too late to buy the ticket. Never mind, maybe next year.”

He rolled his eyes. “There’s no helping some people. If you changed your bed linen more often you’d have been in time. Grey sheets!” He tutted. “You kids. Reckon they don’t show the dirt, or something?”

It had to be a lucky guess, but I felt a fluttering in my stomach. “You cheeky so and so. My laundry’s my own business.”

Stanley put his hands up. “OK, don’t get off yer bike.” He wheeled himself forward and turned the volume up on the television. Returning to me, he whispered in my ear. “But look, love. The fairy code is to wait for the teeth to fall out. But I’m like your dentist bint, I say sometimes you have to be proactive.”

So I gave him a pound. Well, It was the least I could do, wasn’t it?

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