What Lies Within?

It sat dirty and lifeless, having a strange inner glow that seemed to penetrate through its grime of years. It had no purpose or reason, it just was.

"Haven’t you finished reading that newspaper yet? It’s the same every Sunday. You read it from cover to cover, including the ads for stair lifts AND face lifts."

"What do you mean? This is a quality paper, I don’t read rubbish, and I need to know what’s going on in the world."

"Yes I know that but do you really need to know about the London arts scene or which restaurants the rich and famous are going to? All in London of course. What use is that to us here in the Midlands? I even saw you reading the pop music section and you have no interest in that at all."

"You never know when a question about Lily Allen might come up in something like University Challenge. I’ve stored away the information about where she was born and I’ll be ready when the question comes."

"OK then, where was she born?"

"Let me just check."

"I thought you’d stored away the information!"

"I knew I’d remember. It was Hammersmith."

This was the usual Sunday morning ritual in the Simpson household. A leisurely breakfast of croissants, freshly squeezed orange juice and real coffee accompanied by the Sunday papers. Beth always finished the papers first, only reading things that caught her interest. Chris insisted on reading everything, each section of the paper including the fallouts. He didn’t want to miss anything.

"I’m bored. Can’t we go out somewhere?"

A silence greeted this question.

"Chris! Did you hear me? I want to go out."

Chris reluctantly put down his newspaper and gave Beth his full attention.

"It’s the middle of winter, it’s pouring with rain, it’s Sunday and we’re in Britain. Everywhere is closed."

"We could go for a drive out and find a nice pub for a drink or maybe even lunch."

"I can see I’m not going to get any peace. Get your coat and shoes on. I don’t know where we’re going though. We’ve been everywhere round here."

He looked longingly at the papers but dutifully got ready to go out.

They made a run for the car and managed to get into it before Niagara Falls descended.

"You realise that if we do stop anywhere we won’t be able to get out. That is unless you’ve packed the aqualung."

"There is no need for sarcasm. We need to experience the world not just read about it."

They sat in companionable silence with the car taking its usual route out into the country. There was very little traffic on the roads and what there was seemed to be driving in the opposite direction to them.

"Do you ever wonder if the four minute warning has been declared and everyone else knows about it but us?"

"You’re certainly showing your age, and your over active imagination. I don’t think there’s such a thing any more."

"Did you know that there was a theory that drinking coffee could protect you against the harmful effects of radiation?"

Beth gave Chris a long-suffering look.

"And where did you find that little gem?"

"Some scientific magazine from the nineties. There were all sort of suggestions about how we could survive a nuclear attack. It might have been useful if they’d found Sadam’s weapons of mass destruction."

Chris read everything and anything he could lay his hands on, and would, at the most inopportune moment begin a sentence with ‘Did you know that..’.

By now they were on a very narrow country road, driving at a snail’s pace and with visibility down to almost zero.

Beth had perked up visibly since they began their journey.

"I don’t recognise this road. We haven’t been here before. Its quite exciting discovering new places!"

"I find newspapers exciting and they’re not dangerous. We could meet a coach load of nuns taking an orphanage of children on a day’s outing driving too fast down this road and all be engulfed in a fireball!"

In her usual way Beth ignored these comments and continued to peer through the almost opaque windscreen.

"Did you see that?"

"What?"

"That sign."

"All I can see is rain. Let’s go back. We can’t even see the trees and there’s no chance of finding a pub out here. We’ve been driving for ages, and I’m hungry."

"Just drive slowly and we’ll see if there’s another on the next tree."

"I haven’t got much choice have I?"

"There! Look! Another one. What does it say? Just stop and I’ll try and read it."

Beth looked at Chris triumphantly and said,

"There, I told you. It says ‘Antiques Fair today. Refreshments.’ Take the next turn."

Chris decided that the best thing to do was to say nothing, and the thought of refreshments was quite enticing anyway. He knew that one of Beth’s passions was antiques fairs. She watched all the programmes on the tele and was convinced that one day she would discover something for nothing that was worth a fortune.

They pulled up outside the ugly sixties built church hall that had something of the look of a battery farm about it and made a dash for the entrance.

"Strange we’ve never come across this place before. It looks quite old. The church might be Norman, the church hall does look slightly more modern than that though." Chris was feeling quite pleased, another of his interests was church architecture.

"Did you know that the only intact early Norman design is the small St. John's Chapel built by William the Conqueror which is in the Tower of London?"

"Well fancy that. That was something I always wanted to know! And London again." Beth was always amazed by how much useless information he seemed to possess.

That will be two pounds please."

"It’s only fifty p at our local. It’s daylight robbery."

The man behind the desk raised his eyebrows. Beth quickly offered over the money and hurried Chris in.

"How about having some lunch here, it’s too late to find a pub now."

"I’m not hungry. You have something if you want. I’ll go and have a mooch."

Chris could not resist the all day breakfast. Trestle tables had been set up and a George Foreman grill was cooking the most delicious smelling food. Chris decided to have the full Monty with a cup of tea, it was, after all, almost lunchtime.

"Are you sure you won’t have anything love?"

"No thanks. I might have something latter. You do realise that’s the second breakfast you’ve had today. I feel so sorry for your poor arteries."

" It was only croissants and coffee! And anyway did you know that animal fats are less harmful than those artificial ones they put into cakes and biscuits?"

"Yes dear! Come and find me when you’ve finished."

Chris’s doorstop was duly delivered and he was quite happy sitting savouring its delights as he watched the world go by.

The hall was typical of its kind, being a utilitarian space it had few pretty features and had that peculiar smell which seemed to be a combination of wedding reception, boy scouts, toddler groups and wet dog. It was strangely comforting on this wet, miserable day in the middle of an English winter.

Beth was feeling quite excited, maybe today she would find her treasure, which would make their fortune. On the ‘Antiques Roadshow’ she had seen so many people who had bought something for five pounds and found out that it was worth fifty thousand.

Surprisingly the place was packed. The rain had obviously had the same effect on others as it had on Beth. She was finding it very difficult to get to look at anything and was beginning to wish she had as much weight as some of the other browsers. They seemed somehow to be able to shoulder their way to the front of the crowds. She managed to catch glimpses of tantalising objects but was unable to get her hands on any of them.

She had almost given up hope and was about to go and find Chris and succumb to a bacon sandwich when she saw a sign half hidden by a large grandfather clock. ‘More Stalls this way’ it said. There was a large arrow, which pointed to a flight of stairs. She looked over and could just see Chris still munching his way through his lunch. ‘He’s quite happy there I’ll just go and see what’s up here.’ She was surprised that no one else was going up or coming down the stairs. ‘Just my luck to find that its all rubbish and everyone else knows it, still we can but hope.’

The stairs seemed to go on for a long way but she eventually got to the top and found herself in a strange narrow balcony type room. There was one trestle table holding an odd assortment of objects, and one other person. She sat knitting furiously at one end of the table and did not even glance up at Beth. ‘Will the tumbrels arrive at any moment carrying French aristocrats to the guillotine?’ she asked herself. ‘She certainly has the look of Madame Defarge about her. I wish Chris were here. He’d have some information about the French Revolution.’ She was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable, almost as though she was the only person left on the earth, apart from Madame Defarge. ‘This is silly I’m getting as bad as Chris. I’ll be thinking ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ next.’

She plucked up her courage and began to rummage through some of the bric-a- brac. There were medals declaring membership of things such as the Mothers Union and Blue Peter. There were postcards with black and white views of towns and cities that no one visits any more. Beth turned some over trying to decipher messages written by possibly long dead people. The thought made her shudder. Mismatched cups and saucers jostled for position on the table with moth eaten teddy bears. Beth felt quite depressed thinking that these objects had once been owned by someone who cared for them. She walked further along picking up paperweights from China and cute statues of smiling children. She looked up and saw that Madame Defarge was staring intently at her. Beth returned the stare but was the first to look away. She had almost decided to give up and go and join Chris when she spotted something right at the back of the table. She wasn’t quite sure what it was but thought it might be made from glass. She leant forward and carefully picked it up. She was aware that Madame D. was watching her very carefully, continuing to knit at the same time. ‘It is glass,’ she thought, ‘but I don’t know what kind. And what a strange colour beneath all that dirt. It almost seems to glow.’ She was beginning to feel quite excited but didn’t want to show it.

She put the piece of glass down and picked up one of the paperweights.

"How much is this?"

Madame D. studied it carefully. "Five pounds."

Beth picked up a few more things and asked their price. She returned to the piece of glass

"Can you tell me anything about this?"

Madame D.’s stare seemed to have become even more intense. She lowered her voice and looked in a conspiratorial way around her. Beth couldn’t understand this, as there was no one else about.

"Lots have asked about that today. Unusual isn’t it? I got it from a house clearance. Old lady had died. It was hidden in the back of a cupboard. Don’t think it had seen the light of day for years. Person selling the stuff wasn’t interested. Can you see that sort of glow its got? A good wash and who knows. Haven’t had time myself. Top seems to be stuck on. Hot water might do it."

"But what is it?" Beth asked.

"Bottle, jar, scent bottle, inkwell. Not sure. No identifying marks but its old. Glass not my thing. You can have it for a tenner."

Beth put it down, "I’m not sure. I’ll get my husband to have a look at it."

"It’s nearly time to shut up shop. Go on. Have it for a fiver."

Beth could not resist a bargain and she had the feeling that it might be worth something. Madame D. wrapped it in newspaper, put it into a Sainsbury’s carrier bag and gave it to Beth in exchange for five pounds. She smiled rather an odd smile, "Enjoy!" she said and returned to her knitting.

Beth couldn’t wait to get back to Chris and show him her treasure.

He was sitting deep in conversation with another man.

"HI love! This is Tom. His wife abandoned him as well. So we’ve been having an interesting conversation about global warming. Did you get anything?"

She smiled at Tom. "Nothing much but there’s something I’d like you to come and see."

Chris got up "No peace for the wicked. Nice talking to you Tom and I’ll have a look at that website. Sounds fascinating."

"I did find something that might be rather special I won’t know until I’ve given it a good wash. I found it on a stall upstairs and there was the most peculiar woman there. Do come and look. She’s a real treat. She looked just like… No I won’t tell you. See if you get the same idea."

She dragged him to the stairs and they went up. The table was still there containing its motley collection of items but Madame D. was not. Instead there was a large man with long grey hair and a matching beard.

"Looks like Long John Silver without the parrot and without the wooden leg." Chris whispered in her ear. She gave him a frosty look and asked Long John Silver, "Where’s the lady?"

The man looked puzzled.

"I was here about five minutes ago and there was a lady. She was knitting. She sold me a thing made of glass. It was there at the back."

"It was quiet so I nipped off to get a drink. Left the mother in law in charge. Must have been her."

"But look she sold me this!" Beth took the object out of its wrapping. The man picked it up and looked disdainfully at it.

"No. Not mine. I never buy anything like that. She often sneaks bits of her own stuff on when I’m not looking. Gets a lot from car boots. She didn’t say it was valuable or anything did she? We don’t give refunds and I really wouldn’t want to buy it back. Sorry" He gave it back to Beth who returned it to the Sainsbury’s bag. Chris grabbed her hand and led her away.

"Come on love. Time to go."

"Oh I wish you could have seen her. She was just like Madame Defarge from a ‘Tale of Two Cities’."

"This fair seems to be full of characters from literature. Did you know that Madame Defarge shows how the oppressed peasants became the oppressors during the Revolution?"

When they got home Chris immediately attacked the remaining newspapers and was very quickly immersed in the week’s business news. Beth was very excited about her purchase, which she took to the kitchen and gave it a good wash in soapy water. She tried to take off the lid but it was stuck fast. Once the grime was removed it did look a little more attractive but not much. It was a sort of dark brown with strange orange highlights. She held it up to the light and its strange inner glow became more apparent and she could swear that there was something inside.

She took it to show Chris. "Look this is my little find. What do you think?"

Without looking up he said, "Yes. Um. Very nice."

"Chris! Look at it." He put the paper down and held out his hand.

"Not very pretty is it? Hope you didn’t pay much for it. It does look old though. Go and see if you can find anything like it on the net."

"That’s a good idea."

After a good deal of searching she found something very similar and became really excited when it seemed that it might be rare and valuable. Her antiques fair buy looked very like a piece that was valued in the thousands. She resisted rushing down to Chris and telling him to book the Caribbean cruise until she had done a little more research. The last item she looked at on the search engine made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. She looked over to the bottle and she could swear that its glow had intensified and was almost pulsating. What she had just read was, ‘This piece of glass was found in a shallow grave in the foothills of the Himalayas. It was secretly taken out of the country and added to its discoverer’s collection. Within three months he was dead. His estate was sold and the bottle was bought by another who also died within three months. Each person who owned the bottle died mysteriously. Soon it was claimed to be cursed. Eventually it disappeared, believed to have been smashed to prevent the continuation of the curse.’

Beth felt really ill. She couldn’t take her eyes off the glass she was convinced that it was the same one. Should she tell Chris or not. How could she tell him that she would be dead within three months, and what about the children and the grandchildren? Slowly tears began to trickle down her face.

"What on earth’s the matter?" She’d not heard Chris come into the room.

"I’m going to die!" she wept.

"What do you mean, you’re going to die. We’re all going to die, unless you’ve discovered the secret of immortality"

"It’s the bottle," she sniffled, "It’s cursed. Look."

He read the item. "Don’t be silly. There’s no such thing as curses. Did you know that business about the curse of Tutankhamun was complete rubbish. All a series of coincidences."

"But look, my bottle is just like this one and there was the strange woman at the fair who looked at me in a very odd way. You didn’t see her."

"Give the blessed bottle to me. Let’s have a look" Beth wouldn’t touch it so Chris picked it up and examined it carefully.

"It doesn’t look very old to me. Look there’s something inside. What do you think it is? I’ll try and get the top off."

Chris carefully twisted the top and eventually with a bit of effort managed to extract it. "It’s a piece of paper."
"No! Don’t!" Beth shouted. "It’ll be the curse written down."

Chris tipped the bottle upside down and the paper dropped into his hand. Beth covered her face.

"Be accursed all those who…" he said in a spooky voice.

"I told you!"

"Be accursed those who," and he began to laugh, "those who forget to buy the bread, the butter, the eye of frog, the spit of dog…It’s a shopping list you loon."

"The bottle could still be cursed."

He turned it over and looked carefully at the bottom. "There are some letters here. Very faint. Get a pencil and write it down. Could be the answer to the Da Vinci Code. Where’s that magnifier? Right let’s see. There’s a D, and next is a C, no an E, then an I."

"Stop!" Beth looked at him open-mouthed. "You know what that says don’t you? DEI! It means GOD. I knew I was right. I’ll have to get my affairs in order. I haven’t got much time."

"There’s a C and an H, another A, an M and a D." Beth was so distraught by what she’d discovered that she’d not written any more down but Chris had scribbled down the letters. He looked at Beth seriously and put his arm around her.

"What does it say?"

"Write down these letters." He handed her a piece of paper and a pen. "Ready? DEI NCHINAMA."

"What does it mean. How can I avoid the curse?"

"Look carefully. The letters are not in the correct order. Put he MA in front of the D."

She was looking as puzzled as ever.

He began to laugh. "Do you know what it says? ‘Made In China’, and you accuse ME of having an over active imagination!"