Tales of Fear and Fantasy by R. Chetwynd-Hayes

Author:R. Chetwynd-Hayes [Chetwynd-Hayes, R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Horror, Short Stories
ISBN: 9780006146780
Google: Z9a7AAAACAAJ
Publisher: Fontana
Published: 1977-10-15T07:00:00+00:00

Mrs Carrington had three children who sometimes needed her motherly attention. They were, arranged in chronological order, aged thirteen, seventeen and forty-eight, and perhaps it was the eldest who caused her the greatest anxiety. Hugh Carrington had been blessed—or cursed—with a mother who had supervised his underwear, diet, sleeping hours, his colds, headaches, nervous attacks, toothache, suspected rheumatism, sciatica and weak heart. She had also trimmed his hair and cut his toe-nails. The young Mrs Carrington had inherited these duties on the day of her marriage, and so well had the older woman chosen, instructed and trained, she actually appeared to enjoy them. Therefore, when Hugh staggered over the front doormat and made for the nearest chair, her mind automatically thought of bread-poultices, hot-lemon, aspirins, and a nice hot-water bottle for the feet. In the meanwhile, purely as a delaying measure, until the precise nature of the current ailment became apparent, she poured out a torrent of comforting words.

‘Oh, dear, you do look poorly. Doing too much, that’s the trouble. Is it your heart again? Or perhaps the old tummy? Would you like me to get a hot-water bottle and put it under your waistcoat? My, you’re all white and sweaty.’

Hugh waved his left hand in an impatient gesture. ‘Nothing like that. I’ve had a ghastly experience. Man in the railway carriage . . .’

A gleam of interest lit Mrs Carrington’s normally bovine eyes, for she was a regular reader of the News of the World and therefore was not completely devoid of education.

‘No! Well I never! Who would have thought it? And at your age too . . .’

Hugh interrupted her with some abruptness, and had it not been for his extreme agitation, might have delivered a lecture on the general stupidity of women and his wife in particular. As it was he could only wave both hands as a demand for undivided attention, and continue with his disjointed narrative.

‘An awful-looking fellow . . . face like a demented horse . . . said we had something in common . . .’

‘Great heavens! ’ Mrs Carrington ejaculated.

‘Then he got up . . . clenched his fists . . . and drove them through his stomach.’

Mrs Carrington collapsed back into her chair, and expelled her breath in one sigh of shocked horror.

‘How disgraceful! What is the world coming to? In a railway carriage too.’

‘Then,’ Hugh went on, ‘he turned round, and his hands waved to me from over the top of his—nether parts.’

Mrs Carrington’s mind raced along at such a speed, her reasoning power was apt to take some little time to catch up—but sooner or later it did. Therefore, although she was aware some very strange events took place in the wide world that lay beyond her front door, she was at last forced to stop and take note of certain statements her husband had just made. Surprise and alarm came towards her in great leaps and bounds.

‘Forgive me for doubting you, dear, but . . . Would you like me to get you some of that nice cooling medicine? You know—the pink stuff .

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