The warm summer sun had drawn many people to the quaint Devon fishing village of Salcombe. Its narrow winding streets were full of visitors enjoying the beautiful early-evening atmosphere. The smell of the sea embraced all who walked along the quay. A gentle breeze travelled across the estuary enhancing the screams of gulls, which hovered above, hoping to spy the opportunity of grabbing a spot of supper, from an unguarded portion of fish and chips.

The sea was full of small motorboats and yachts, traversing in front of the harbour, the best position, for those sailors, wishing to pose, and show-off their maritime abilities.

It was busy too, in the old Ship Inn, with customers enjoying a tasty meal, washed down with a drink or two. Old Tom, had taken up his regular position in the corner of the bar; a space he usually frequently used most evenings. Tom was quite a local celebrity, telling old yarns of the sea. He had been a fisherman for many years, and although his yarns were interesting, there were always hints of extras of doubtful origin, but added some spice to the plot. Beside that Tom was old, and enjoyed the company of those who listened, especially if a pint of beer arrived, followed by a request for another story, from the city folk. Tom’s eyes, one blue, one green, opened wide, and his goatee beard twitched, at the chance of telling more.

The evening progressed, with each yarn getting more amazing with the addition of each pint of beer. It was of some surprise, when Tom suddenly stopped in mid-sentence and uttered, “Someone is in trouble at sea”. Those gathered around, looked at him puzzled. “What do you mean Tom?” asked one of the men. “Call the coastguard”, replied Tom, someone has fallen overboard, quickly do it,” The man drew his mobile phone  from his pocket, and dialled 999, and asked fro the Coastguard. Tom continued, “Tell them someone in the water off East Portlemouth”. The man duly obliged, and within a few short minutes a lifeboat was launched to check out the situation.

The time seemed short, when the man received a call back from the Coastguard, thanking him for his quick action, and confirming that a woman had been rescued from the sea, by the lifeboat. She had fallen of her windsurfing board, and could not climb back-on. The report continued that the windsurfer was shaken, but otherwise unharmed.

The assembled crowd looked at Tom, “How did you know” asked a lady somewhat mesmerized after what she had just witnessed. Tom looked in deep thought, “It is Telepathy”, he replied. “Is that instinct” asked another man. “No”, replied Tom. “But how could it work”, the man continued. Tom looked at him and smiled, “Are you sure you want to know, it is quite complex, but quite natural,” “Please do” continued the man. “OK” replied Tom. “Telepathy is like an electronic signal, sent out from the mind of one person which is received by another. The signal is carried by gravity waves. It’s all due to magnetic fields you see. That’s how animals can sense an approaching tsunami and flee to higher ground. They can sense the gravity waves from the approaching wall of water”. The crowd that surrounded Tom fell silent. The last thing they could have imagined was for Tom to come-out with such information. It was, indeed, a sobering thought. But, in the real sense of the word, Tom had probably saved the life of the windsurfer that in itself was impressive.

Last orders were shouted by a bemused landlord, and after a few moments of the reflection of the evening’s events, all made their way home, still trying to work out Tom’s amazing performance.

By Ray Steed,

Copyright mysticdevon.com.

Paignton’s seafront characteristics thrived in the glorious summer sun, the air filled with a warm sensation of joy, and life, welcoming visitors to the area. Holiday makers relaxed and let go of their worries, instilling a sense of peace with life once more. Fun filled the air, as everyone delighted in the sounds and sights of summer,

Paignton seemed to bestow a magical sense of wonder and enchantment, many people returned each year.

Lisa like many before her had felt an instant rapport with the magical seaside town, and its tranquil setting, she absorbed with excitement and pleasure the same atmosphere she felt when she had first met Geoff.

Her heart felt drawn into events of the past, the sounds of children playing happily on the beach, reminded her of a time long ago of her childhood and how simple and carefree life had been, and then years later she had walked hand in hand with Geoff, and how perfect life had seemed at that time. Memories filled her heart with happiness and love.

Lisa could feel Geoff’s presence alongside her, and in this moment the feeling of separation was lifted, and there seemed to be no distance between them. How time had passed, it seemed like only yesterday that she had first met Geoff on the pier, while on holiday with friends. They had met through circumstances, neither had planned, but that particular day was to change the course of her life forever. They had fallen in love at first sight, and decided to move into the area together. There was a destiny link with herself, Geoff and Paignton.

This day though was different; Geoff had been abroad on deployment for many months. He had contacted Lisa, to say that; he had a few hours off duty the next day, and suggested they met on Paignton Pier, His text read! “Meet you on the Pier at 2pm, should be there on time, but if not wait there until I arrive.” Lisa arrived early, and strolled along the pier, before finding a seat facing the shore, her searching eyes, watching out for Geoff. Time passed, it was now 2.30, and she began to become quite anxious, all manner of thoughts passed through her mind, as she sat patiently waiting, She caught sight of Geoff waving on the Promenade, her heart jumped with joy “Wait there” he shouted, as he began to run towards her. As he reached her, he smiled, “Sorry I’m late love, the train was delayed,” They gave each other a big hug, and kissed. Time seemed to melt away as Geoff said “I just had to see you,” Lisa had a tear in her eye, “Geoff, I have missed you.” “Remember the day we met here”. Geoff said as he wiped the tear from her eye, it was a day like this. I was so happy, just like I feel now.” “Yes, replied Lisa, “I remembered how we spent sometime in the Amusement Arcade.” “Come on” said Geoff, “Let’s go in again, I will try and win you a teddy bear.” Lisa laughed, “Come on Geoff, you spent a small fortune last time, and still didn’t win anything” “I know, but I’m determined too this time, come on.” The Arcade was busy, Geoff headed towards one particular machine. “Here it is Lisa; the machine to win a Teddy Bear.” Lisa laughed, “Come on Geoff, you could not do it last time, what is the point of trying now.” “You just watch me” said Geoff, after around twenty with sheer luck, a pink teddy bear was grabbed, and deposited down the winning shoot. “There you are Lisa” he said proudly, as he handed over the pink teddy bear, “You’ve done it, well done.” Lisa laughed, “Well it’s taken 7 years to get there, but well done,” and she kissed the Teddy Bear, quickly followed with one for Geoff. “Come on,” said Geoff, “shall we go for a coffee.” After buying coffee and doughnuts he sat down next to Lisa. He leaned over to, kiss her gently. “I wanted to come and tell you that I am going on a very long deployment.” Lisa looked startled,” But you have just come back from one, and it is unlike the Army to send you away so soon.” “I know,” said Geoff, “That is why I wanted to come and see you today,” “I want to thank you for your love and support over the years we have been together, I could not have wished for such a loving partner.” Lisa looked at Geoff, I will wait for you.” He smiled “I must go now” said Geoff, “and get back to the base.” “My train leaves in 20 minutes.” Lisa smiled, “of course,.” The couple made their way to the entrance of the Pier. “Bye love” said Geoff, “I love you.” “Bye I love you too” said Lisa Geoff made his way along the promenade, looking back to give Lisa a wave. Lisa felt sad, as she made her way home. Although short, the day had been so special to her, a lovely day with plenty of laughter with Geoff.

Lisa put her key in the front door, and went inside, she decided to make a cup of tea, and sit and watch some television. It must have been an hour or so, when the doorbell rang. Lisa jumped up quickly, not expecting any visitors at that time she proceeded to answer the door. She was surprised to see before her, standing on her doorstep, a Policewoman and Policeman, with rather sad looking expressions, on their faces. “Are you Lisa,” they asked, “yes”, she replied, “may we come in” Yes, of course” said Lisa. She lead the police officers to the lounge and they all sat “We have been trying to contact you all day.” “We have some sad news to give you.” “We have to inform you, that your partner Geoff has sadly died in a road traffic accident. It happened yesterday, while leaving his base” “Yesterday,” Lisa looked shocked, but that is not possible, I have just spent a lovely afternoon with him. You must be wrong.” “I am sorry to say that we are not wrong Lisa.” “His Land rover was involved, in a car accident, when he was driving back to base from the airport. “We are deeply sorry.” Lisa just could not believe what she was hearing. She thought; surely it just cannot be, this must all be a mistake, it cannot be. The constables spent some time with her and arranged for her sister to be with her, and also advised that she would need to travel tomorrow morning to arrange a formal identity of Geoff. Lisa, just could not believe it, how could all this be happening to her now. No Lisa’s mind refused to accept it, it must be wrong. The constables assured her, that there had been no mistake. Lisa could not sleep at all that night, as she cuddled the pink teddy bear tightly. A beautiful day had turned into a nightmare. Lisa tirelessly examined all the events, trying to make sense of everything, but still her mind continued to question what she was hearing and feeling, how could it be, how could Geoff have died the day before, it doesn’t make any sense. The night seemed endless and lonely, and in her deepest despair she fell into a state of exhaustion. It seemed like a dream, when she heard Geoff’s voice say “I had to come to say I love you, and I will wait for you, as you waited for me on the Pier. I love you.”

By Ray Steed

© MysticDevon.com

The couple began work on the allotment in Autumn. Like many of their neighbours they had a mind to stretch their household budget by growing fruit and vegetables, but they were also motivated by fear. That Spring their beloved son had finally left them and having tired of rolling unsteadily around their house, like two shriveling peas, they were desperate for more constructive ways to fill their time.

The couple’s research had been thorough and they threw themselves into the project with an earnest enthusiasm. First they checked the PH of the soil. Then they built a compost bin, decided which crop varieties were most suited to the composition of the earth and drew up a planting schedule for the Spring. Overwintering vegetables – onions and cauliflower, garlic and leeks – were planted and the rest of their plot was forked and left rough dug, with the roots of any weeds exposed to the frosts that would follow.

It had been some time since the couple had met and spoken to anyone new and at first they were ill-at-ease around the more established plot holders. But their diligence was noted and they were soon made to feel welcome. By the end of their first month – as was the tradition with newcomers – they were given gifts of fruit and vegetables from those growers that had been most successful that Summer. They found themselves with bags of runner beans and courgettes, tomatoes and plums. There were squashes and a pumpkin, the biggest they’d seen. By the time people began abandoning the allotment for the Winter, the couple were able to reflect on a satisfying introduction to a community they had found more of a preoccupation than they might have dared hope for.

Potentially the most diverting of their new relationships was one they had begun with the old man on the plot next to theirs. They had been told that he had taken ownership of it a month before they had begun work on their own, but beyond that no-one seemed to know anything about him. Despite always arriving on foot, he didn’t appear to live on any of the roads in the immediate vicinity of the allotment. His age was a moot point: he could have been 60 something or 70 something or, at a push, a sprightly 80. For whatever reason he wasn’t the slightest bit friendly, and most of the people who’d spoken to him had been ignored; furthermore, the few syllables he had offered by way of reply had come with a heavy accent, from Germany perhaps, or Eastern Europe.

< 2 >
The couple were undeterred by the old man’s taciturn manner. There was something exotic about his difference and this appealed to them. Besides. His was a constant presence on the allotment and their relationship with him was clearly going to be central to the experience: every time the couple ventured out that first Autumn – and this was often enough – there he was, bent double and turning over the soil like a peasant in a field.

This dedication gave the couple something to work with. If their exploratory ‘hello!’s and ‘nice day!’s had prompted no response, it would surely be more fruitful to prod the old man about the detail of his plans. It was. One weekend at the beginning of November, it became apparent why he had been working with such urgency when he took delivery of – and set about planting – a dozen rose bushes. This was unusual. Flowers were grown on the allotment; someone had sowed wildflower seeds to create a patch of meadow and the practice of planting marigolds and nasturtiums as companions to carrots and broad beans was widespread. But no-one had given a whole plot over to the cultivation of a particular bloom. The couple saw their opportunity. ‘What’s the secret then?’ they asked their neighbour as he dug and dug, ‘to planting roses?’ ‘You have to bury it deep’, he said and although they left it at that the couple were thrilled with the effortlessly enigmatic nature of his reply.

Their curiosity was further piqued that Winter, when they began taking walks on the now deserted allotment. They were looking for something to fill the time during which nothing except emptiness grew. One day they were delighted to see a bird emerge from a previously unnoticed hole in a dead tree at the end of their plot. The bird was colourful and distinctive enough for the couple to identify it on their return home: it was a Great Spotted Woodpecker and they hoped its to-ings and fro-ings would hold their attention until Spring. The following week the rain was coming down but the couple remembered the bird, wrapped-up against the cold and ventured out anyway. Approaching the tree they were surprised to see the old man standing in the freezing rain, staring at his hard-worked soil. He was drenched but he stood up straight and proud too, even as the water poured off his flat cap in icy streams. It was as if he was willing the roses to spring forth from the ground, and for days the couple didn’t speak of the woodpecker at all.

< 3 >
With the arrival of Spring, the allotment was full of people again, putting the finishing touches to their preparations for the new season’s growing. The frost had worked its magic but there were roots to weed out and manure to tickle into the expectant earth. The couple consulted their plans and sowed carrots and lettuces and covered them with fleece. They secured canes for broad beans near to the onions, in order to deter root fly. They transferred courgette plants from pots to cloches, tomatoes and peppers too, while chitted potatoes were buried in trenches.

The old man also busied himself, pruning his rose bushes and weeding assiduously between them. The plants had lain dormant over the winter but had taken well. The leaves were dark red, although some were already showing signs of the vivid green that the couple had learned would come with maturation. By the last week of April, the roses had bloomed. The flowers had large heads and were petalled densely in deep apricot and fiery pink and orange. The bushes were laid out in three precise rows, the earth from which they grew was darkly rich and otherwise clear of plant life and although the flowers had yet to fully inhabit their beauty, the old man’s plot provided the most arresting sight on the allotment.

One morning in May, the couple ventured out for an early start, only to find their neighbour standing on the exact same spot as he had that Winter. Once again he was staring at his handiwork. ‘Looking good,’ they ventured, genuinely enough. The old man turned around. He looked past the couple, as though he was unsurprised that his efforts had attracted an audience but also as though he hadn’t registered – or didn’t care – who it was. He raised a hand to his chin as if lost in thought. ‘Not good’, he said, ‘too strong. Too soon.’ Then he turned back to his plot. The couple would have been happy if the encounter had ended there, with this further evidence of the old man’s eccentricity, but even as they exchanged glances, they noticed that he had started to sob, his head full and bowed, his whole body convulsing in great wracks of distress.

< 4 >
The incident alarmed them. While they had sometimes wondered what the old man was doing and why, there was a limit to their curiosity and to how far they would go to occupy their thoughts. The exotic was welcome but this response was raw and deeply unsettling and not one on which they cared to dwell. By the time the arrival of their first cauliflower heads heralded the end of Spring, they had long returned to the counsel and succour of their less challenging neighbours.

Summer was their most rewarding season yet. The rhythms of the growing cycle were becoming familiar to them. They harvested their potatoes, planted beetroot. Their courgettes had begun to attract attention: ‘you’ve got green fingers!’ people said and they were told that they were ‘natural gardeners.’ Someone from the top corner of the allotment moved house and a plot became vacant. With a newcomer due – and the ritual of presenting them with gifts of fruit and vegetables to be honoured – the couple saw an opportunity to properly announce their arrival into the community. As June became July the roses died back and they forgot that they had ever considered cultivating a friendship with the old man.

That Autumn they planted raspberries and gooseberry bushes and leeks and garlic. They picked their courgettes, lots of them, and were delighted to be able to present the allotment’s latest recruit with a selection from their glut. On the plot next door, the roses blossomed again. The couple spoke of the greater number of flowers and of the fact that although the bushes were steadily thickening, weeds were beginning to grow between them. But they did not stray onto the subject of the old man himself. By now their indifference to him was total; they didn’t notice that his visits to the allotment were becoming infrequent and that when he did show himself he looked less wiry than thin, as though he had gone to bone, and that he had begun to curl up at the edges, like a leaf.

Winter came and the couple planted cold weather lettuce. They went looking for unusual birds. In Spring, they occupied themselves with their raspberries, another crop of broad beans. They picked leeks and garlic. It was May before anyone heard that the old man had died. When the couple were told, they were transfixed by the news and unsure how they should react. Then they were drawn once more to his roses. The bushes had torn themselves free from the deep-rooted detritus of his patch of earth and were flowering again in violent swirls of colour, like silent explosions, like faraway suns. They were fully grown and truly beautiful, but there was something else about them too, something in the way they had been laid out, that now brought to mind the arrangement of flowers in a memorial garden. For a moment that passed, the couple thought about the old man and his life. And then, for the first time, they found themselves thinking of their loss, and of the nature of the seasons to come, relentless, unforgiving, eternal…

By Kate Whitmarsh

Copyright mysticdevon.com

Godfrey had lived in the village all his life. Peaceful, the village rested alongside the tidal estuary of the river Avon. The quiet atmosphere only disturbed by the traffic passing over the old bridge across the estuary. It had been a beautiful day, the Sun, now started to bow it’s head in the western sky in early summer. Godfrey, tided up his greenhouse, it was time for him to make his way to the Fisherman’s Rest Inn, a routine he adopted for many years. Closing the greenhouse, he proceeded to climb aboard his push bike, adjusting the peak of his baseball cap, to shield his eyes from the Sun.

He started off down the lane, which was bordered by high hedgerows of either side. In recent days, it had rained, so the hedgerows gave off a smell of freshness, as the wild plants stretched their arms to greet the Sun. It was not far to the Inn, and within a few minutes, Godfrey arrived at the front door. Parked  his bike, and securing it with a chain and lock around a post, he wandered inside the Inn.

“Afternoon Godfrey”, the landlord Mike greeted him cheerfully, “A pint of the regular” he continued. “Yes please” replied Godfrey as he sat on his favourite stool at the end of the bar. The pint of ale was duly served, as Godfrey reached for a daily newspaper, which had been left on the bar.

Thumbing it’s pages, Godfrey gaze was drawn to an advert, which had been placed in the situations vacant column. Godfrey rubbed his moustache, to remove the residue of froth from his pint. The advert read, “Rocket Specialist required. Are you ideal for a job with N.A.S.A. if so, apply to the following address”. Godfrey thought carefully, he had always had an interest in space travel since a boy, but coming from Aveton Giford, openings in that direction, were few and far between. He took another sip of his pint, and looked at the advert again. he thought for a moment, “ Mmm I am quite knowledgeable about space things, maybe, I should apply, nothing ventured, nothing gained”, after all, he was not getting any younger, a ride in a rocket, nice, and they could only say no.

Finishing his drink, he carefully removed the advert from the newspaper, folded it in four, and placed it in his pocket. “Bye Mike”, he gestured to the puzzled landlord, who had noticed Geoffrey’s interest in the article. “See you tomorrow Godfrey”.

Making his way home to his cottage, Godfrey was composing his letter of application in his mind.  This could be an opportunity to his achieve his dream, to try and see the village from space, that’s if it was not cloudy of course. On arriving home, he found some paper, an envelope, and began to write. Signing his name clearly at the bottom, he placed his letter in the envelope, and addressed it. Because it was important, he put a first class on it, to ensure fast delivery. His letter would be collected the next day, from the village post box.

A few weeks passed by, then one day the postman delivered an envelope to the cottage with a strange stamp on it, he had never seen one like it before.  On the top left hand corner, were the initials, N.A.S.A. Godfrey’s heartbeat started to race, as he eagerly opened it.

Dear Godfrey, he read on, Thank you for your letter, and after careful consideration, we have decided to invite you for an interview. Enclosed is an airline ticket to fly you from London Heathrow, to Florida. We look forward to meeting you. . Godfrey was indeed excited; the furthest he has been was to Plymouth, some 10 years earlier.

His news was greeted with disbelief in the Fisherman’s Rest, by the regulars who read the letter, which Godfrey proudly had passed around. Surely, there had been some sort of mistake. Why would they want to interview Godfrey? The only interview he had attended previously, was when he was interviewed by local radio, after winning the best Marrow competition at the village show, two years earlier. Regardless, all wished him the very best on his expedition to the United States.

Before long, Godfrey was packing his bag, in preparation for his trip. The journey went well, a coach from Plymouth to London Heathrow, followed by a flight aboard a Virgin Atlantic flight to Florida. It was a great experience for Godfrey; he had not seen clouds from this direction before. He did cause some interest among cabin crew, when he asked to open the window for some fresh air.

The plane landed at Orlando Airport on time, and on clearing baggage collection, and raising a few eyebrows in Immigration, Godfrey made to the arrivals hall, where a man and a woman were waiting to pick him and drive to his hotel.

The next morning, Godfrey prepared for his interview, with N.A.S.A. officials. Opening his case, he retrieved a suit, which had been left to him by great uncle Albert in his Will. It fitted quite well, and it was ideal for an interview, Uncle Albert, had been the village undertaker, and it had been his best work suit.

It seemed that Godfrey was being given V.I.P. treatment, when a limousine arrived outside his hotel, to take him to the interview.  The Sun was shining brightly, when the car turned into the N.A.S.A base. The car came to a halt outside a large building, and Godfrey made his way through the door. Ahead of him, he could see a door marked, Interview Room, With a smartly dressed soldier, standing to one side of it. On entering the room, Godfrey was greeted by a team of military personnel seated around a large table. “Good morning Godfrey” said a man at the head of the table, “Welcome to N.A.S.A. pleased take a seat”.

“Tell me Godfrey” said the man. “What would you do if a rocket failed to launch, would you be able to get to root of the problem?” “Yes Sir” Godfrey replied, “I have many years of sorting out rocket systems”. “That’s great news” said the man. Next question, “Do you have any knowledge of solar panels?” “Yes, They are like plants, the panels are leaves, they transmit the suns energy, to create growth”. The panel were impressed, and after several other questions. Godfrey got the job. “Godfrey”, the man continued, “I know it is short notice, but we have a space mission to the International Space Station, in two weeks time. If we can arrange some basic training, would you be interested, in doing the job?” “Of course” said Godfrey I’m up for that.

Godfrey’s training went well. He passed with flying colours. Whizzing around on the centre fugal force, made him feel a little sick, but it was not too bad, the gravity test also was no problem to someone who had been used to going down Aveton Giford hill on a push bike at warp speed. In fact, he enjoyed the training so much; he volunteered to do it again, just in case he missed anything.

The morning of the space flight, was exciting for Godfrey. After enjoying the traditional breakfast of steak and eggs, he climbed into his space suit and joined the other astronauts in the space shuttle. The launch went extremely well, and it was only a short time before the shuttle, started orbiting Earth. Godfrey felt comfortable enough, and decided to take some photos through the window. Hopefully, he thought, they will come out well, when I can get them developed at the chemist on my return.

After several orbits, the shuttle edged towards the Space Station, finally docking just after lunch. Being his first flight, Godfrey was first to go aboard the Space Station. He was greeted by the Station Commander, who smiled widely, when he saw Godfrey. “Welcome, you must be our new rocket specialist”. Godfrey, carefully unzipped his space suit and  retrieved a rolled up copy of the Kingsbridge Gazette, inside of which were some green leaves. “Yes Sir” replied Godfrey.” I have been growing rocket in my greenhouse for years, here you are”.

Remembering on Dartmoor

A cost free gift of happiness.

Sitting on a mound on Dart moor, a beautiful warm sunny day, I recalled a happening in younger days.
It was a warm sunny day also and many friends gathered at a young persons party, Beth didn’t have much to offer as she came from a poor family, but she arrived with a white pillow case tided up with string, when it came to her turn to hand over the gift she had brought, she opened the case carefully and took out a plain brown box, she handed it to her friend, reached inside her pocket and took out her camera the instant kind, it had been a gift from her uncle earlier that year, she liked taking pictures, but as film was expensive she had to be selective with her subjects.
She told her friend to open the box,
The birthday girl Jane opened the box, a big smile shone on her face, at this point the photo was taken, the photo popped out of the camera, and she offered it to Jane along with a sheet of paper. Jane read the paper in silence, and when she had finished she gestured over at the pillow case sack.
“Oh, so it’s….”
“Yes!” interrupted Beth, undoing the knot which sealed the case” It’s a great big pile of smiles!”
She opened the case and hundreds of photos fell out, all of different smiles, each one of them beautiful.
The rest of the party goers tried to work out how Beth had managed to create such a big chain of happiness. All there was in the box was a photo of a big smile, but everyone who had seen it had felt happiness transmitted to them, and in return without even thinking about it, every person had responded with a smile of their own.
With all her friends now smiling, Beth took a photo of each one of them. She gave them their own photo along with a slip of paper, which asked them to do the same with other people, and to send copies of the photo to her home address, for months afterwards, Beth’s post box was always full to the brim with photos of happy, smiling people.
And so it was that she managed to spread understanding of the simple truth that every time you smile you are sending a gift to the world.

By Kate Whitmarsh

It was late afternoon Christmas Eve on Torquay seafront. Wink the seagull landed high up on the roof of the Princess Theater, he gazed down at the scene below. The winter darkness had arrived. The colored illuminations that lined the seafront swayed gently in a breeze that came in from the sea. The street below was crowded with shoppers, looking for last minute presents. The excitement of Christmas was all around. It seemed everyone was having a great time.

It had been a tough year for Wink But then it always was tough. It seemed that people loved the cry of the gulls when they came to stay by the sea, but when they dropped in to share their lunch with them, they did not appear to like it much, shouting, jumping up and down and waving their arms in the air. He often thought, “These people really don’t know how it is to be a seagull”.
That’s not nice” said Wink

Mary and Joe walked hand in hand along the promenade. The young couple had met back in the summer while on holiday, staying at a nearby caravan park. It was the ideal story, where two people meet and fall in love, and why not the romance of Torbay lends itself to such events. They decided to return to Torquay, to share their first Christmas together. The couple stopped and leaned on the rail, looking out to sea. The waved gently embraced the sands as if the sound of a beating heart. In the clear sky above shone a beautiful star. “What a beautiful star” commented Mary, Joe looked skyward, “actually Mary, I think that is the planet Venus, it really shines brightly for us tonight”. The couple withdrew their arms from the rail, turned, and continued their walk.

Wink watched the couple make their way along the promenade. “No sign of anything to eat there he thought, he continued his observation of the scene below.

The doorman unlocked the front doors to the theatre. Outside, a long queue had assembled waiting patiently for this moment. Shuffling gently forward, they entered the foyer of the theatre. They had come along to see the first show of this years pantomime, *Cinderella” in which some well known stars were appearing. Pantomime always was popular, the terrible jokes, glittering costumes, and the chance to escape into a fantasy world, always lightened the long dark days of winter. In the foyer, stood a member of the cast dressed as an angel, giving out packets of sweets to children as they passed by.
“That’s nice” said Wink, looking from his perch above.

Mary and Joe had continued their walk along the seafront, eventually finding a bench on which they sat down. The bench overlooked some illuminated gardens, which had captured their eye, as they passed by. Joe fumbled in his pocket and produced a small box. On opening the lid, the sight of a beautiful ring caught Mary’s eye. “Joe, is this for me” “of course” came the reply, “Mary would you do me the honor of being my wife”. Mary looked stunned, smiled and cried at the same time. “Well” said Joe. “Yes of course” replied Mary giving Joe a big hug,
“Yes, of course” she repeated.
“That’s nice” said Wink.

Venus continued to shine brightly above. “Do you know Mary this reminds me of that first Christmas” said Joe “What do you mean Joe” she replied. “Well there was a star above the stable where Jesus was born” Joe Commented “Yes of course” replied Mary. Joe continued, “It is said that on that day, Christ brought pure love upon the Earth, to bring peace to all, and now under the light of Venus, we have found love too”. Mary once again shed a tear or two. She smiled at Joe and said “Oh Joe, that is so lovely, thank you” as she once again gave him a big hug.
“That’s nice”, said Wink.

The theatre show was coming to an end. The band had played its last tune “It’s time to say goodbye” and with much applause and cheering, the audience made its way to the exit. When the crowd made its way outside, they were greeted by members of the cast all dressed as angels. Above was a large banner, which read “Venus, the morning and evening star. May it bring all the people of the Earth much peace and love, “Happy Christmas”. That’s nice” said Wink.

By Ray Steed
Edited by Kate Whitmarsh
Copyright MysticDevon.com.

It was a hot May in Gibraltar. The Rock seemed to be bathed in sunlight from dawn to dusk this time of year. Main Street, usually a Mecca for shoppers looking for a Duty Free bargain, appeared subdued with people seeking refuge in a local bar for a refreshing drink or two.   North Front looked rather quiet too, with only just the one cruise liner visiting the port.  Royal Caribbean’s Independence of the Seas, had crept in early that morning through the Bay of Algeciras, after leaving Southampton some three days earlier on route to cruise in the Western Mediterranean Sea. The guests on board were enjoying a hearty breakfast while looking out over the harbour to the town beyond.

“Can you see any of those Apes, Herb” asked Connie.  Connie and Herb from Dallas, Texas had joined the ship in England after flying in from the United States.  Herb was the owner of a camera with a lens that probably had the world record for its size. “No Con” came the reply in a broad Texan accent.  “I guess they are taking time out to grab a bite to eat.  Hopefully, we will catch a glimpse of them in the Apes Den, when we take our tour”.  With that he closed down his camera and retired into the cabin from the balcony.

Down on Deck 2, Tracy looked out of her cabin window.  She and husband Steve had booked the cruise to celebrate being together as partners for ten years. “Hey Steve, look at this view”, Tracy sounded excited. “It’s good to be back”. Tracy had lived on the Rock some years earlier, so knew it well.  It was however, the first time she had returned and was expecting a lot of things to have changed. Before leaving their home in Yelverton Devon, they had booked a tour of Gibraltar and were looking forward to taking in the sights of the beautiful location.

Up on the Pool deck, Sandi, a Travel Agent from Ontario Canada, had been checking out the facilities aboard the Independence. It would seem her striking blue eyes missed nothing.  She was indeed impressed by what she saw. The running track, climbing wall, surfing pool and mini golf course all added to the enjoyment of those who cruised on board.  Her trip was mainly for research to advise potential customers thinking about visiting this part of the world and this ship. She too, had booked a tour of the Rock and was anxious to explore the history of what seemed to her, quite a small place.

“Good morning Bear”.  Mario walked towards his friend, who was sitting in the drivers’ seat of a mini bus that was parked on the jetty, alongside the ship.  “Looks like you will be busy today”.   Bear smiled, “Yes, I think so; we have every available taxi on the Rock to do the tours today”. Because the roads on the Rock are narrow, small vehicles had to be used, rather than the larger coaches. “It is all good for business”, he continued.  Mario smiled back and made his way towards Casemates Gate, at the bottom of Main Street.

Back on board, the ship’s tours team were organizing dis-embarkation. Trikki Rikki who is the on board cruise director, had the difficult task of trying to form passengers into groups of 5, in order to allocate taxis on the pier. Each passenger was given a sticky badge with a number on it to avoid confusion. After some time, a kind of order was sorted and the line of guests made their way ashore.

Bear drove his mini bus up to the front of the line. “Next 5 please” he announced as he slid open his door. Sandi, being the smallest made her way to the back seat. She was followed by Connie who sat alongside her. In the middle of the bus sat Tracy and Steve, with the front seat being occupied by Herb, who gingerly got in trying to avoid knocking his camera lens. “Welcome everyone, my name is Bear. I am your driver for today. I hope you enjoy your tour”. Everyone acknowledged Bear’s greeting and went on to introduce themselves to each other.  Herb turned to Tracy and Steve. “From your accent, you sound like you are Limey’s”. Tracy and Steve looked at each other.  “We come from England, if that is what you mean”. Connie, rushed to the rescue, “I’m sorry, Herb was in the military, and he refers to all English people as Limey’s”. “That’s ok, we kind of guessed that’s what he meant”, Steve replied smiling. Sandi joined in the conversation, “Being a Canadian, I’m used to being called a Colonial”. This initial exchange tended to break the ice, much to the amusement of Bear.

Bear’s mini bus made its way around the Rock taking in all the sights.  They drove by Rosia Bay, where H.M.S Victory had weighed anchor after the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, then onward out to Europa Point, where the lighthouse peers out over the straits to North Africa, returning back to climb the steep road to the upper Rock.

It’s interesting, how quickly friendships can be formed when people are thrown together on a tour. The group in Bear’s mini bus were no exception. Views were exchanged about the places of interest visited and Herb insisted on taking a photo of everyone at every vantage point.  Everyone on board seemed to enjoy the tour especially of St. Michael’s cave with its illuminations of magical limestone caverns.

Next stop was the famous “Apes Den”. At last Herb could get a photograph of the Apes. The door of the taxi flew open, and Herb followed his camera lens out to take a shot. Bear did warn him that the Apes could be a little aggressive if he went to close. Within a second he had climbed over a wall into some bushes to get a bit closer. With a thump he hit the ground as his foot had become lodged between two rocks. “Help” came the cry as the others rushed to his aid. Luckily Herb was shaken but not injured, and as he regained his footing he noticed a stone had rolled down the bank. Where the stone had been, there seemed to be a small metal tube. Herb picked it up and to his surprise there was what appeared to be a roll of paper inside. Herb re-joined his companions. “What have you got there Herb” asked Steve. “Don’t know” came the reply, “But it looks like some kind of note”.

They all crowded around as Herb took the paper out of the tube and unrolled it.  It looked very old, but it clearly had something written on it.  Herb began to read.

“I be Jim, and whoever hath found this note, has the first key to finding me treasure. The next clue can be found behind the tombstone of the drunken soldier, I bid ‘ee well”.

……. Signed Rumpus Jim

The group looked at each other. “Must be a wind-up” said Steve.  ”Does not make much sense” replied Tracy. “I agree” commented Sandi, “That could be anywhere, or maybe it is just someone having a bit of fun”.

Herb rolled up the paper again, placed it back in the metal tube, and walked over to show Bear. Bear once again unrolled it and read its contents. “No idea” came the reply. “But why not take it with us and see what we can find out about it”?

Bear thought a while. “I tell you what, I will call my friend Mario, he may know something”. Bear picked up his mobile and called Mario. “Hey Mario, we have found a note at the Apes Den”, he went on to describe it in Spanish, “Any ideas”? “No” came the reply, but leave it with me, I will see if I can find anything out”.

The group continued with their tour, but the note became a major topic of conversation. “What if it is genuine” suggested Connie, “There may be something in it”.

As they stopped at the old Moorish Castle, Bear’s mobile rang.  “Hi Mario” said Bear, “found anything?” “A little” came the reply. “It would seem there was a guy called Rumpus Jim way back in the 19^th century. He was an Irish matelot who served on a British naval frigate. He was a really nice bloke from all accounts. Problem was, when he came ashore he went on a pub crawl in Irish Town, causing a rumpus where ever he went, drinking lots of beer but great parties from all accounts. That is all I can find really, oh by the way there is a tombstone up in Buena Vista about a drunken soldier.” “Thanks Mario” replied Bear.

Bear looked at his watch. Time was moving on. “Hey you guys” he said peering over his dark rimmed spectacles. “If you like, I can take you to see this tombstone. It’s in the wall near an old Army Barracks, just past Townsend Corner, in Buena Vista.  We have time”. They all looked at each other. “COME ON, LET’S GO” replied Sandi, “we have come this far, it would be interesting to know if there is anything in this”.  All agreed and Bear started off down the hill.

The taxi made its way past the Governor’s Residence at the southern end of Main Street. The pavements by this time were packed with shoppers, mainly from the Independence of the Seas, grabbing duty free bargains. As in most cases, when a ship was in port, Siesta had been abandoned by the shop keepers, taking advantage of opportunity to attract more sales. Gibraltar in the sun indeed was a good place to be, with not a cloud in the vibrant blue sky.

The cab made its way past the Cable Car station, which was the start of the assent up the Rock, passing on the left hand side the famous Rock Hotel with its beautiful setting overlooking the Bay and picturesque gardens. Heading uphill, the taxi finally turned right into Buena Vista, and made its way to the old barracks at the far end.  Arriving at Townsend Corner, the occupants got out and made their way along a narrow road, with a wall on the right hand side.

Bear stopped. “Look, here it is”. There, in the middle of the wall was a memorial stone in remembrance of the drunken soldier who had fallen from this point. Excitement grew among the group. “Let’s have a look around, this must be it”. Tracy was quite shy, and was hiding behind a pair of pink sunglasses, her long dark hair just catching the gentle breeze.” Good idea Tracy” replied Steve, as they all set about trying to locate the next clue mentioned in Rumpus Jims’ note. They decided to split up and check various parts around the stone. Behind the wall was a steep drop, and it was decided against climbing over.

Time past and nothing could be found. “Looks like it was a hoax” claimed Herb, “But at least it has been interesting”. With that the group made their way back to the cab. “Hold on a minute, what is this here”? Steve drew their attention, to what looked like a loose brick. “Can’t be there” replied Herb. “looks too far away from the stone”.  Steve went over to investigate. He prodded around, and nothing moved. “Hold on a minute” said Bear, as he reached into his pocket and produced a pen knife. “Have a go with this”. Steve took the knife and tried again. The brick moved, and with a little effort it slid away. Excitement grew, as Steve reached in and with some further scraping with the knife, he retrieved a small metal tube.

“Well look at this”. He cleaned of the ends to reveal a roll of paper.  As he unrolled the paper, a further message could be seen. He began to read.

“I be Jim. You be not finding me treasure ‘ere. It be many leagues from ‘ere.  Maybe a week be sail or so. Think ‘ee, upon these words:

Smell the salt of the sea, as the waves break upon the shore.

Past the point of no return, if ‘ee sails south from St. Nicholas Island.

The be a stone, not old but new

Ashore, near the bell that tolls

A place a lady sits, looking out to sea fro me.”

…..Signed Rumpus Jim

Steve turned to the others. “Well, got any ideas now?  I’ve never heard of St. Nicholas Island”. The others looked at each other. It seemed that no one had heard of such a place. Maybe it was time to give up and return to the ship. After all, time was going on and the Independence would set sail within a couple of hours to make passage to Barcelona.

Bear drove his passengers back to the pier and expressed how much he had enjoyed taking them all on a tour on Gibraltar. It had been a tour with a difference; with the treasure hunt thrown in. As he climbed back in his mini bus, he shouted “If you find any treasure, let me know” with that he gave a smile. Sandi ran back to the cab and gave him her business card and e-mail address, just in case anything came of it.

The five treasure hunters shared a table for dinner that evening. The topic was of course, the treasure. Nothing had come of it, but at least they had made some good friends.

The cruise continued, visiting such lovely places such as Pisa, Florence and Rome. The weather was sunny, ideal for tanning on the pool deck and just relaxing when not touring the Islands.

When the ship left Vigo in Northern Spain to return to Southampton, the group agreed to spend the last dinner together and reflect on their adventures during the trip. All agreed that the treasure hunt in Gibraltar, although without success was interesting. After dinner they made their way to the theatre to watch the last revue show, followed by a drink in the piano bar.

Steve took the note out of his pocket.  “You know” he smiled, “There must be something in this, but we will never know”.  They all raised their glasses and toasted to “unsolved” treasure hunts.

“Did you enjoy the show” Trikki Rikki the cruise director asked as he passed by their table. “Very much so” replied Connie, “we have enjoyed all the entertainment on board”. Rikki drew up a chair and sat down. “Thank you, it is always good to get feedback on what our entertainers provide as they do work very hard.  Have you all enjoyed the cruise? “Very much so” replied Tracy, to which all agreed. “Especially our treasure hunt in Gibraltar”! “What was all that about” asked Rikki. Steve took the two notes out of his pocket and showed them to Rikki. “We had to give up, because we kind of lost the plot” commented Herb.

Rikki read the note. “Hey that is brilliant.  Why did you give up”?  Steve replied, “You know Rikki that is a good question.  We just ran out of time in Gibraltar and no one had ever heard of St. Nicholas Island”. Rikki pondered for a few moments. “I have” came a softly spoken reply. “Really” the group all gasped at the same time. “Yes, years ago, I went on a family holiday to Bovisand which is on the edge of Plymouth Sound.  “We know it well”, replied Tracy and Steve, “We are from those parts”. Rikki continues, “across from Bovisand is Drakes’ Island but I understand its original name was St Nicholas Island. And look, the point could be Wembury and the stone could not be from that Island, but I understand its original name was Mewstone – which lies on the point and there is a beach there too, with a church near the sand”. “You may have cracked it Rikki” exclaimed Steve. An air of excitement went around the table. “We have to check it out” said Herb. “Sure thing” replied Sandi excitedly, as she was always in for a great adventure.

Steve asked “Hey, have you guys a need to get back home quickly”? He looked at Connie, Herb and Sandi. “No” came a collective reply. Steve continues “Look, I have a VW Touran and it can take 7 people. If you can postpone your flights home why not come back to Devon with us. We have got to check this out surely”. With that, the new found friends from both sides of the pond went down to the Purser’s desk to change their travel plans.

The Independence of the Seas docked early next morning in Southampton, The group of treasure hunters were able to disembark early, then waited while Steve went to find his car.  With all luggage aboard they set off for Devon.

It was a Saturday and the roads from Hampshire were quite busy but they made good time and arrived in Plymouth early afternoon. So keen were they all to find anything, they headed out immediately to Wembury and drove into the car park behind the beach.

“Well, we’re here” sighed Steve. “Let’s really hope we can find something”. In turn, they all climbed out of the car, stretched a little, and looked out to sea.

“Look, there is the Mewstone Rock” Steve looked excited. There’s Wembury Point and there is the church, possibly where Jim said the bell tolled.  Come on let’s have a look around.”

The group read Jim’s clues again. “Somewhere a lady may sit” murmured Sandi. They all looked around. Nothing much seemed to suggest such a place, but then Herb noticed a couple of people sitting on the wall. The couple, who turned out to be from nearby Ivybridge had been walking their dog Roxy along the beach. The group headed towards them.

“Hi there, do you know these parts well?” enquired Sandi. “Yes, we do” came the reply. “We are looking for a place where a lady may sit”. “Ain’t many ladies round ‘ere, the only place maybe is this wall; take a seat” With this the couple moved on, looking back with some curiosity.

“Let’s have a look around, you never know” said Steve. The group prodded around the wall seeing nothing until suddenly Sandi noticed a rubber ball wedged between two stones. She picked it up. It was immediately pulled out of her hand by the man with the dog, “Thank you” I wondered where that went, come on Roxy, go “fetch”.

Sandi looked down and where the ball had been was a small metal tube. “Hey guys – look”, she immediately had the attention of the group and they all came to take a look.

She pulled out the tube from between the stones, tipped it up and a roll of paper and 6 rather corroded coins fell out.  She unrolled the paper and began to read:

“I be Jim. I have sailed the seven seas to find gold and riches. I travelled to many a port a foreign and caused a rumpus where ever I went. Too much I tell ‘ee, too much rum and beer I tell ‘ee. All I have to show for it is six coins. I tell ‘ee, I have these coins, one for each of ‘ee, for thee to remember me, even one for the kind man in Gibraltar town”.

“One day I returned to these parts, I dropped me anchor to settle down. I walked upon these cliffs past the point and met a fair wench from this parish. ‘er name be Jane and ‘er showed me so much love I had not known before. For then I did know that love is a far greater treasure than any gold and riches. For love is my treasure and for those of ‘ee that find it will be given a wealth of all worlds”.

…..Signed Rumpus Jim

“He is right you know” sighed Tracy. “Nothing is greater than love”.

The treasure was found, a treasure more than any other treasure. The next day, Herb and Connie headed back to Dallas, and Sandi to Ontario. Friendships had been made across the pond that will remain for always. Steve decided to drop the notes into Plymouth Museum, along with the coins. He felt it may be an interesting tale of local history. The man at the desk looked at the items and declared that it was an interesting story. He looked at the coins, hesitated for a moment, looked at Steve and said “Well done, I have seen these coins before. They are quite rare in fact very rare, due to the fact they originated from Central America. I should think they would fetch £100,000 each – should you wish to sell them”.

© mysticdevon.com

Edited by Sandi Mcconnell Canada

Photos courtsey of Gibraltar Tourist Board

As early morning arrives beneath a clear, still sky, beckoning the beginning of another summer’s day, Sandy Bay awakes quietly breathing a sigh of quiet restfulness, after the frivolities of the night before.  The peacefulness of the dawn, only broken by the cry of gulls hovering upon the thermal air, and the gentle snooze of the sea embracing the sand, welcomed the gentle breath of another day.  All was quiet too, in the holiday caravans perched on the cliff top. There they sat looking out to sea, as if to capture the first rays of the sun as it lifted its head to the east. Safe inside, their guests slept soundly after the fun of the evening before, which marked the first day of their holiday. Indeed, everything was unearthly quiet. The lights and the buzz, of the fairground, the laughter and voices of those who had frequented the bars and Night Clubs the previous evening, it seemed, had been captured and carried out to sea upon the sea wind.

The sun gradually arose in a vibrant blue sky, with violet hues. Its rays acting like a magnet to those in the caravans. As they emerged rubbing their eyes, gently; George exclaimed “Hey! Look at them” pointing towards the cliff path, “They’re keen.” He had spied two early morning joggers, making their way along the path towards Exmouth. Both were huffing and puffing like some long ago steam engine still in use. However he thought, at least they were making use of the clear morning air in their pursuance of fitness. “Morning” shouted George, “Morning” came the due reply. The couple continued their jog uphill past George’s caravan, the lady in the lead finding the incline less difficult than her companion, to his amusement.

George scratched his head, and re-entered his caravan. George had booked a week’s holiday by the sea with his family, his wife Pat and their two children, Lilly, aged 9 and Kevin, aged 7. The family had travelled from London the previous day, anxious to get away from the busy big city to seek the freshness of the Devon seaside. George had woken some hours earlier, by the sound of Seagulls walking up and down on the roof. This early call provided an insight into what would happen each morning during the holiday. The Gull’s webbed feet tapping out a beat, a kind of seaside calypso if you like.

Over in E field, things were stirring in caravan E122. Jocelyn and partner Darren, accompanied by their children Amy 6 and Paul 9, had made the long journey from the North of England, Wigan, to be precise. It had been a long trip, with delays on the motorway near Bristol. To make up for this, Darren decided to cook everyone breakfast. To avoid disturbing the family any more than possible, Darren gently crept around the caravan to start cooking. All went well until he started to grill the bacon. The smell of bacon always seemed to be part of a caravan holiday, the aroma of which often being carried on the breeze from other caravans. The problem was that such gastronomic exploits always attracted the attention of the smoke alarm, which for some reason was always located in the vicinity of the kitchen. This loud bleeping caused havoc in the caravan, especially when everyone appeared to move at once, caravans seemed to require a certain amount of planning, and foresight, when all moving at once.

Further up in the camping field, two couples had erected their tents side by side. Kerry and Trevor, from Wales, had met Tracy and John from Birmingham, in the park while on holiday the previous year. They had got on well, and a friendship had developed between them. To celebrate their re-union, the couples had ventured down to the Patio Bar for a few shandies. It had been quite late when they had arrived, and after setting up camp, darkness had arrived. This, of course, proved no problem on the way to the bar, but the return journey proved more difficult. Where had they pitched their tents? The night, and the consumption of one too many shandies made the task increasingly more difficult. Tripping over tent guide ropes, much to the alarm of the caravan’s occupants, did not go down too well. After an hour or so, the couples were rescued by the camp’s security, and safely deposited in their own tents. In the right one, it is hoped!

In the East of the park, in a caravan facing towards Budleigh Salterton, a committee of Cornish Morris dancers had set up home for the week. With the flag of St Perran proudly flying from the television aerial, the group of guys planned to dance their way through the holiday, hoping to attract some free beer en route. Although it was early morning, the group decided to practice a dance they had recently learned outside the caravan on the grass. It was indeed peculiar, to hear the sound of bells and a slightly out of tune squeeze box greeting the dawn. Was this normal practice in Devon? Other visitors in nearby caravans, might have mistaken this event to be so. But as a local man passing by on a push bike pointed out. “They are Cornish”.

Time sailed on and the Sun, now high in the sky embraced the park with its warm, golden light. George and family had decided to head for the sandy beach. The children loved building sand castles, while George fell asleep reading The Daily Mail. His partner however constantly nudged him to stay awake and take an interest in what the children were doing. The beach was crowded, each square meter, it would seem, portioned off by boundaries marked with wind breaks and deck chairs, marking territories. The tide on its way in usually caught those beach goers not used to the sea’s cyclical rhythm off guard, with possessions being swamped by the wave’s dynamism that was larger than the one’s before. Such situations often led to a commotion of activity, people hurriedly trying to rescue towels and rubber rings, before declaring defeat and resigning to the enigmatic strength of the sea’s vigour.

The afternoon went well for the Morris men, the group comprised of both men and women who danced on the promenade in Exmouth. The group that come from St Dominick in East Cornwall proved to be a great attraction to the tourists who were on holiday at the resort. Although they were called Morris men the group also comprised of some ladies. In addition to the out of tune squeeze block one of the guys played the fiddle. The assembled crowd were amused to witness a bit of needle between two of the ladies. As the Morris men danced with sticks clashing, the ladies seemed to have a battle of their own. After an hour or two and abandoning the dance for the bar the Morris men headed back to the caravan park.

Evening was drawing in and the families returned to their caravans after enjoying a great day. George and Pat decided as did Jocelyn and Darren to take their children to the fun fair during the early evening. The bright lights and the excitement of screams of laughter filled the evening air. This was followed by a gentle stroll down the illuminated smugglers walk, avoiding from time to time the approach of tiny Tim the parks little steam traction engine. At the end of their walk, calling in for a burger and chips which signalled time for bed, for their children, and with baby minding in place the parents headed for the night club to enjoy the cabaret. The night clubs opening times signalled the emergence of Kerry and Trevor and the other couples from their tents in the camping field who all headed towards the club for some light refreshments. The atmosphere in the club was buzzing with activity and excitement. The cabaret that night was a recognised name from the world of television. Previous acts who had provided brilliant entertainment at the club; were entertainers such as Ken Dodd who had kept the audience in fits of laughter until the early morning.

A man then appeared on the stage and blew into the microphone and announced that unfortunately the star act designated for the evening would not be able to appear after all, due to a large traffic jam on the m4 interchange, near Bristol. But please don’t worry for we have arranged an alternative act live from the banks of the river Tamar in Cornwall, with no expense spared. I am pleased to announce The St. Dominick Morris men, complete with an out of tune squeeze box and a fiddle.

By Ray Steed

Copyright MysticDevon

It was a rather sleepy Sunday morning in Buckfastleigh, not much seemed to be happening at all, except for the faint sound of rustling leaves, a sign that morning had arrived, as nearby birds hurriedly began their business of gathering and foraging. Dear old Mrs Green made her way to the local shop to buy a pint of milk, something she did most mornings. The old town seemed to yawn and stretch its way, as the sun popped its head, from the east. Just maybe, to the faint voice of an Owl, packing up for a day’s rest. Grumpy Jack, an old boy, was delivering Sunday newspapers to homes, just as he had done for the past 70 years.  Yes indeed, the old town was quiet.

Suzy and James had just woken up too. They had lived happily in their old, former mill worker’s cottage for the past 20 years. But all was not well, James had risen early to make breakfast, a peace offering, for the couple had quarrelled the night before over something that really did not matter; but then things had not been well for some time. They had known each other since they were children, gone to the same school together; and when in their late teens, their friendship grew into love, they moved into their cottage together. Suzy came downstairs and sat opposite James at the breakfast table. “James” said Suzy, “I need to tell you something.” “What’s that” he replied. “James” she continued, looking most uncomfortable, her brown eyes looking down at the table, averting his gaze. “I have decided to move out” “What” he replied, “Surely things have not got that bad.” “Yes, sorry, I do love you, but just cannot go on with all this arguing, I need time away, and I have decided to take up the offer of a room at Sindy’s house.”  Sindy was Suzy’s best friend, and lived in Ashburton. James looked startled, “Come on Suzy, surely it’s not that bad.” “It‘s no good James, I have to go.” With that she stood up, grabbed a bag she had secretly packed the night before, and made her way to the front door. James tried to reason with her, but it was no good, she left.

James sat alone in the kitchen with his head in his hands, feeling the weight of his emotions he tried to find some explanation for Suzy’s actions, as it seemed so unlike her. He truly did not know what to do next. Why had this happened, surely things had not got this bad. He felt totally lost and unsure how to respond. The house already felt empty. He loved Suzy so much, so why was this happening, what had gone wrong? How could he get her back?  All these questions were going around and around in his head. Should he go after her? Or maybe he could call Sindy and speak to her, perhaps she could help? He just didn’t know what to do for the best.  His mobile phone rang, he answered, but there was no one there. He put his mobile down, when a text arrived. It read simply, I’m sorry, but I just had to go, Suzy.

The morning drifted by until about lunchtime. James decided to go out for a drive in his car up on to Dartmoor, to try and gather his thoughts, and put things in to perspective, perhaps things were not that bad after all, he thought. James drove and drove, he just kept on going, and was unaware of where he was heading or the time it had taken; these things didn’t seem to matter at all.

In happier times Suzy and James enjoyed one particular spot on Dartmoor, this was the walk to Crow Tor, from the car park at Two Bridges, past Wistman’s Wood, it always seemed so invigorating. The moor always seemed at its best, whatever season of the year they visited. The pre-historic wood and the moorland beyond certainly had a mystical feel to it, with the tingling sound of a stream dancing its way down the valley, in harmony with the moorland wind that seemed to breathe with sighs of loneliness. It would seem appropriate enough, therefore, that James turned into the car park. He sat for a while, trying to re-gain his thoughts, as to why all this hurt had happened to him. He opened his car door and climbed out, closing the door behind him. As he walked he glanced behind him. Suzy was not there as she had always been previously. Surely she still loved him, as he still loved her so much. But her absence in this moment felt particularly acute, while standing in this place, which they had always shared.

James made his way up past the wood. The place still had that air of calmness and peace that they had both enjoyed so often. But this time it was different, for he was alone. He made his way along the edge of the stream until he saw a large stone, where he sat and reflected on the whole feeling of solitude. Was Suzy feeling the same? Or had she met someone else? He stared into the stream. What was he to do? He sat for what seemed, quite a while, his gaze focused on the stream.

Suddenly, his attention was drawn to the sound of a woman’s voice. It was gentle, and had whispered, “Hello.” James turned around and was surprised to see a woman sat only a couple of metres from him. “Hello” replied James. “Sorry if I startled you,” continued the woman. James looked again. There she sat, probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, her long golden blond hair gently waving in the moorland air. Her eyes were of a radiant blue, and her pale complexion giving way to the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. “That is ok,” he replied. “You seem lost, can I be of any help?” she commented, moving her long white dress to one side. “No” replied James, quite surprised by the woman’s appearance. It seemed most unusual for anyone walking on the moor, to be dressed in such a way. “I am just sat gathering my thoughts,” James continued.

This sudden development certainly caught James unawares, why did he feel the need to explain what he was doing, to a total stranger, let alone, such a beautiful woman, dressed in such an unusual way. The whole situation felt peculiar, and caused James to look again at his companion.  My name is Angelica” continued the woman. James looked again. “I’m James,” came his reply.

James looked into Angelica’s eyes. He had never seen eyes as hers. They seemed to be attracting his thoughts; he felt a strange feeling of peacefulness run through his body. His attention was drawn to the most beautiful crystal she wore on a silver chain around her neck. James asked, “please, I do not wish to appear rude, but what is that beautiful gem you wear on your chain. Angelica smiled, “It is a Lemurian crystal.” “Lemurian,” replied James “I have never heard of it” Angelica smiled again, “It is an emblem of love, such love that few know of” James looked again, “I must admit, I did not expect to meet someone like you here today, you are so different and my mind is full of questions that I wish to ask, but feel I should not.” “James” Angelica looked into his eyes, “I feel you have been troubled by love, and that it gives you such sadness.” James was amazed at this perception. “Yes, that is true” he replied. Angelica moved closer and put her hand upon his. James was conscious of a feeling of immense love radiating from her touch. “ Yes,” he continued, but I do not wish to trouble you with my problems,” Angelica smiled once more, “James,” her eyes becoming as clear as the moorland rain, “I sense that you feel that your love has been rejected, and yet you still love, and are in a mist of despondency.” James turned his head. “Yes that is true. Suzy, my wife and I met a long time ago, married, and were extremely happy. I do not know why she left me this morning; I just feel my life has collapsed around me.” He continued, “I always felt that love was meant to be a lovely thing, and that everyone must try to find love in their lives.” Angelica gently squeezed his hand. “That is a good thought” she confirmed with an air of gentleness.

She continued, “what is love; you may ask, people have searched for this answer within themselves, for eons of time. Is it a feeling of completeness, a place of honesty and peace, with the absence of fear; yes this indeed is love. It is said, that in the universe, a place of complete love is a place of sanctuary, and indeed it is,” she leaned back, “love is what everyone should seek and find, for when love is found, life embraces the stars in the heavens.” James looked puzzled, “Okay, so why does love give so much pain?” he enquired. Angelica cast her gaze to the moorland. “Indeed this may be true, but look again upon the moor, to the woodland, the birds that pass through the sky, and the waters of the stream.  Such things are given with love. Their beauty cannot give pain, pain is within you, as is the love you have for Suzy. It is a conflict within that you must resolve, and grow in such a way that love between you both will become pure, as it is in the starlight of the universe.”

James looked at his quite unusual companion. “Surely then,” he hesitated a moment or two, “If this love is in us all, why is the world in so much conflict?” Angelica leaned slightly forward. “That is a good observation” she replied, “It is an observation that many in the world do not perceive. If more enquired with this perception, then the world would release its conflict within itself, for all are ultimately connected with the energy of the stars and the light of the universe.”

James could not help but feel a sense of awe upon hearing such words. “So if I could only try to resolve my differences with Suzy, as you say, then we could possibly re-capture our love for each other.” “Yes” Angelica replied, “it is always possible to do so.” James looked at his watch, it was almost 3 o’clock “I must go” he said. Angelica smiled at him once more. “Come” she said, “I will walk with you.” Holding James’s hand they made their way to the edge of the wood. It was here that James looked and gave a gasp. “What on earth is this?” Before them stood some sort of craft. It seemed to be sending out an unusual energy, which pulsated, during each pulse, an array of coloured lights appeared and faded. “Don’t be afraid” assured Angelica, “I must return to the place in which I live.”  “Where on earth is that” James replied, his voice trembling, he was simply amazed. “I cannot believe this.” Angelica gently touched his hand. “I live in the stars, where there is nothing but love.” James could not speak, but just managed a nod of some sort of understanding. Angelica made her way towards the craft. Before entering she turned, her whole body surrounded with such a golden light, the like of which James had never seen before. “Goodbye James, open your heart to pure love, and all will be well inside.”  She turned once more and entered the craft. Within a split second everything was gone.

James tried to gather his thoughts. What had he seen? Who had he seen? And what was this all about? His mind was in total confusion.  He sat for a while, and contemplated the whole experience. Was all this just an incredible dream? No it could not be as the woodland trees were still here and the moor beyond. The stream continued to make its way as it always did, so what was all this about, he pondered? The time moved on, and he decided that he must make his way home. Okay, the house would be empty without Susy, but then he had to face all that. The journey across the moor seemed strange. Hardly any other traffic passed by, a completely strange situation for this time of day. On arriving back home in Buckfastleigh, he parked his car and made his way to the cottage. He inserted his key into the door lock, turned the latch and entered the cottage. There sat facing the door was Suzy. “Hi James” Suzy’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, truly sorry.” James said nothing, but just gave her a big hug. “I’m sorry too, very sorry” The couple just stood and kissed.

James after a few moments broke the silence. “I thought we were finished for good, I really did.” Suzy wiped a tear from her eye. “Yes, I did too,”  “I was driving over to Sindy’s house when I found myself being drawn to Dartington Hall. I parked up and decided to go for a walk around the gardens. “James you are not going to believe what happened.” “Go on” he said. Suzy continued, “I hope you will not think I am going nuts or anything.” “No of course I won’t, go on” “I walked past the Hall and decided to take time to reflect by sitting on a bench taking in the beauty of the gardens.” “Go on,” replied James. “Well when I was sat there, this woman came and sat next to me. She was very beautiful with incredible long blond hair, and the most vibrant blue eyes.” “She seemed to want to strike up a conversation with me. She was the most perfect woman I have ever met, with a radiant presence, and she just seemed to know what was on my mind, she talked of love, of us, and that of the world. I was totally immersed in her energy. After speaking with her and how she explained all about the truth of love, I knew I just had to come home.” James smiled. “Tell me; was her name Angelica by any chance.” “Yes replied Suzy, how on earth did you know.”

By Ray Steed
Edited by Marie Weston
(C) MysticDevon.com