CAUTION! THIS IS A LEGACY VERSION WHICH HAS NOT BEEN REVISED OR UPDATED SINCE June 2019.
THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF JERICHO TIBBS!
SERIES 1: EPISODE 3.
Concept date: 15th March, 2017
First published: 16th August, 2017Status: COMPLETED.
Version: STANDARD.
Age Recommendation: 12+
Average Reading Time: Approximately 30 Minutes.
Age Recommendation: 12+
Average Reading Time: Approximately 30 Minutes.
Revisions: 3. [Last Edit: June 2019]
Angel-in-charge: Margret
Team Assigned: Team 74
Human Time: 1940AD-1358AH
Human Time: 1940AD-1358AH
Mission: 533871 - 1 -1491
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| "THE GHOSTS AND MISS JESSICA MARTIN." |
Mr. Tibbs investigates a strange 'apparition' which has appeared on the streets of war torn London during the German bombing of the East End. But is distracted by the curious case of young Jessica Martin and the RAF pilot who has just crashed his Spitfire on wasteland to avoid coming down on nearby houses - the two should never have met but they did!"
NOTES: This episode contains strong language and mild horror.
Miss Jessica Martin ran quietly down the worn and broken steps from her front door and reached the old iron gate, that lay to one side, before her mum shouted after her. She sighed loudly and adjusted the annoying Gas mask bag that hung off her shoulder and called back; ”Bleedin’ ‘ell ma, I’m gonna miss the bleedin’ bus at this rate!”
Her mother stood in the front doorway and waved the small brown paper bag; “I queued for an hour yesterday for that bloody cheese, so get back here and get your lunch... and I managed to get an apple for you!” Helen folded her arms over the long white apron that covered a drab dress which had seen better days. She shook her head in mock despair, but smiled as Jessica sauntered back up the garden path and accepted her lunch with a big grin.
The bottom windows were boarded up and the house had clearly seen better days - but it was their home, and Hitler wasn't about to drive them out.
“I’ll try and get back before ten, but it depends on those bleedin’ buses. This new war timetable is bleedin’ useless. I’d be better off on a flamin’ pushbike!” Miss Jessica Martin gave her mum a little kiss on the cheek and with a wave, headed for the bus stop and the fifteen minute journey to “Arnold Packer & Sons Ltd.” Where young Jessica would work a late shift in the canteen, serving behind the works counter, cleaning tables, washing up and making endless cups of tea throughout the shift – and all for 25 shillings a week, having left school just last month. She didn't like this shift because it meant travelling home in the 'Black-out', but at least no-one noticed her old worn clothes in the darkness.
Jessica had no real money to buy work clothes - she gave her mother all of last weeks wages; just to pay the back rent. Charlie's home allowance that he sent monthly, put food on the table and her father's maintenance Postal Orders had a nasty habit of not appearing on time. She still could not forgive her dad for running off with some posh speaking tart from the Co-Op Store last year, leaving them in real poverty.
She couldn't even afford to purchase the subsidised meals provided at work - hence the lunch bag. But she was very grateful that the factory provided its canteen staff with quite a nice uniform: Black dress, white blouse and floppy mop cap.
But no stockings, they were really expensive and already in short supply, so Jessica wore white ankle socks – like she always did to school, where she admitted to herself; that she learnt ‘bog all’ of any use. It was the skills that mum had taught her, which landed Jessica the factory job – she could cook really well and knew how to clean thoroughly, but most important of all; she could brew a cracking cup of tea!
She pulled her worn brown coat about her and peered up at the two barrage balloons floating above the docks; she could see several others in the distance, all moving gently on their cables. “Fat lot of bleedin’ good they’ll do when Mister Hitler calls again with his bloody Luftwaffe.” She laughed to herself and then thought about her brother; Charlie, now serving in the Royal Navy and wondered what he would think of the bombing over the last couple of days.
Jessica had heard that several families in Park Road and Green Avenue had been killed and the rescue people were still trying to dig out survivors. Her mum; Helen, said she knew one of the families and all four had been killed, trying to hide under the kitchen table.
Jessica stared up at the clear sky and thought she could see little dark spots heading away from the City towards the coast.
“May as well try and use bleedin’ catapults to bring the buggers down.” She grinned broadly and remembered Charlie and the things he smashed with the catapult, which he always kept in his rear pocket. Jessica wondered if Charlie still had it; maybe he had packed it in his kit bag when he was posted to HMS Cornwall. The last letter mum had received hinted he was in South Africa, and Jessica really envied him the opportunity of real travel, the last place she had visited was bloody Southend-On-Sea – but it had been a real laugh – lots of ice-cream, paddling in the cold sea and a trip down the pier, where a gust of wind stole her hat.
Then she noticed the bus was already waiting and she ran to the stop, joining the queue of several women and one old man who was clutching a little black book and he appeared to smile directly at her; if about to speak. Glancing behind, she saw the young RAF Pilot emerging from Albert Road, still clutching his flying helmet and dusting himself down. He grinned at Jessica and started to walk towards the bus stop slowly, looking about and smiling.
The Conductor, Mavis, a big woman with a wide smile and ill-fitting trousers shouted; “Three downstairs and three up top, come on, before Adolf clips your ticket for good!” The queue, with a little ripple of laughter, started to shuffle forward and Jessica cursed her luck, there were seven in the queue and she was last – again. The women climbed onto the bus and the old man waited at the rear and waved his little book about, as if trying to attract someone’s attention.
Then the sirens screamed into action and Jessica looked up to see large dark spots appearing in the sky, someway in the distance – but heading for her.
“Oh flippin’ hell!” She shouted and remembered there was a Public Shelter in nearby Christopher Street, by the Gaumont Theatre. She recalled the sandbagged entrance by the sign declaring the forthcoming feature; Errol Flynn in the ‘Prince and the Pauper’. She ran quickly, clutching her lunch with the awful gas mask bag slapping against her bum, she glanced up to the see that the dark spots were indeed planes - lots of them: she shouted angrily to herself; "Where the ‘ell are our fly boys?”
The first explosion made the ground tremble and a large white and orange flash filled the sky some streets away, then a dark grey spout appeared and she could smell burning. A second one followed close to the first and Jessica was now running full pelt into Christopher Street which was filled with screaming, frantic people pushing their way into the Shelter by any means.
Unable to pass through the wall of struggling people, she glanced behind her and could see the bus she was about to board on its side – ablaze. Two flaming figures struggled from the wreck and collapsed onto the roadway, she knew one was Mavis, the big, cheerful conductor, she didn't know the other woman and never would. The smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils and Jessica wanted to vomit. But with shaking legs, she again tried to push through the hysterical crowd until her arm was grabbed by the young man in the dirty RAF uniform; “You’ll never get in there, there are too many bloody people!” He shouted and dragged her towards the large stone doorway of the Library which was also heavily sandbagged.
“We’ll stand a better chance in here!” He yelled above the noise of more explosions nearby. Jessica followed the young Pilot into the semi-darkness of the fortified doorway and they crouched down in a corner as the terrible noise of dying people continued unabated outside. "For gaud sake; it's raining bleedin' bombs!" Jessica whispered, then more explosions followed and the ground appeared to move in ripples, one was close, causing sand and dirt to fly about the confined space. The young couple coughed loudly and the Pilot shouted; “There are more of the bastards than usual, Herr Goering is after the docks and he really doesn’t mind who he kills!”
Jessica realised she was crying and wiped her damp face with a shaking hand; “Where the ‘ell are our flying boys?” She repeated with real anger in her voice and the young Pilot crouching next to her laughed; “Well, this one is really close Miss!” Jessica brushed away more tears and then chuckled; “Why you down here and not up there then mate?” The young man offered her a clean white hankie and sighed; “I was, but didn’t see a sneaky jerry come up from below me – bang! – I ended up here with my crate in pieces.” He smiled and dusted himself down again and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up, offering it to Jessica, who shook her head and fumbled in her coat pocket for a couple of humbugs she knew were hiding there.
The young couple sat nervously chatting in the semi-darkness, swapping backgrounds and even laughing at each other’s daft comments. The raid had lasted for about an hour and evening was moving in. Pilot Officer Daniel ‘Danny’ Hart had only qualified as a Pilot two months ago and had fought in one ‘sorte’ before – without any luck; he suffered instrument failure and had to return to the airfield. It had been his twenty-first birthday just two weeks ago. He grinned at Jessica and chuckled; “Most men get the key to the ruddy door at 21. I got a bloody big Spitfire and a bloody big war to match it!”
Unknown to the pair – and everyone else at the time – some five or six streets away, another couple were walking slowly through the carnage, looking about at the death and destruction.
Mr. Jericho Tibbs and Lady Alexandra Cappanni passed unnoticed by the rescue crews, struggling to reach survivors buried in their own homes. The dead and dying suddenly appeared on nearly every street corner, placed outside shattered shops and homes, sometimes on a stretcher, but most under a dirty sheet or Fireman’s coat.
The rescuers struggled over broken roads, soaked by ruptured water pipes and fire hoses; frantically trying to reach buried survivors before the planes returned.
Jericho glanced towards a burning Newspaper shop; outside was a mangled bike and a grey canvas bag from which newspapers had spilled onto the road. Red streaks of blood directed his eyes to the shattered body of the child – torn apart by the bomb he couldn’t see or escape. Alex commented on his wonderful mop of blond hair, and then realised it was no longer connected to his head. She covered her mouth in horror and the pair hurried past the awful sight.
Night was now falling and there would be no relief from the horrors, as Germany would now be bombing at night, having suffered heavy losses in daytime raids.
They passed a couple of Collectors with several souls in tow - one raised his hand and shouted 'Hello Mr. Tibbs!' Both Jericho and Alex returned the greeting with Jericho muttering; "They're going to be busy for the next few years!" Alex nodded her agreement and they walked on.
“Perfect environment for the ‘Dark One’ to strike, don’t you think?” He quietly asked Alex, who was staring up at the darkening sky, as more planes filled the air. Jericho sighed and glanced down at the report about the strange apparition that had recently appeared on the streets of London’s East End; right in the middle of the Blitz.
He looked up and pointed towards Cuthbert Street; "Down there and his address is just minutes away. He should be able to give us a full update on the sightings - he's been part of my human team here for some time."
“Here they come again.” Alex said simply and the pair de-materialised from their human form – for now.
They emerged from the battered doorway into the gathering gloom and simply could not believe the sight before them – burning buildings, rancid thick smoke and the screams of the trapped and dying. The Co-operative butcher’s shop just opposite was no more than a blazing frame, then the roof collapsed with an explosion of debris and flame. It threw two charred bodies upon the broken road and Jessica screamed in real horror.
Danny took hold of her hand quite firmly and the pair ran towards the street corner, neither one looked back, as grey smoke covered the dreadful scene and the night sky became a vivid mix of yellow and orange – East London was burning.
“We need to get to a tube station, they’ll be back and it won’t be safe to stay on the street.” Danny shouted as they ran past a blazing Fire-engine; some on the crew still sprawled around it or rather pieces of the crew were still laying beside it. Two Constables staggered past them; their uniforms in rags and both covered in black burn wounds. One was blind and trying to grip his colleagues arm, but the skin on his hands simply peeled away - He was crying and screaming swear words every few seconds. The pair disappeared around the street corner and his voice was still heard for some time before it stopped.
Danny and Jessica made their way over the broken roads and pavements, past the burning buildings, past the frantic rescue attempts and past the dead covered with sheets, curtains, coats and anything that could hide their torn and dismembered bodies.
Finally, they reached St. Mungus church and both climbed the wooden and wire fencing placed by the local council to keep people from entering the ruins – the church had been derelict since the end of the last war.
They made their way through the old church and down the worn steps to the crypt; the ground rumbled as bombs fell across the roadway, lighting up the crypt door, which was already shattered into several pieces and they scrambled in as the light of the bomb flashes faded.
Danny was digging into his trouser pockets and cussing quietly, but he found what he was searching for: his little flight torch. He snapped the light on and slowly passed it around the crypt. They saw broken stone coffins, smashed angels and pieces of timber, roof tiles and where the wall had partially collapsed: an old mirror with yellowing glass. Danny stared at the mirror for a couple of minutes, but it was Jessica that answered the question he had asked himself.
“It must have been bricked up behind that old wall.” She spoke quietly and nervously, pushing the last surviving humbug into her dry mouth. “But this church was built in Medieval Times; they must have bricked it up centuries ago – but why?” Danny whispered and pushed a hand over his face, then snapped the torch off.
They sat silently in the dark for a few minutes until Danny finished his cigarette and tapped Jessica’s arm; “Do you know what’s really odd about the old mirror?” Jessica pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them; “No.” She said quietly.
Danny chuckled and with a very quiet voice said; “When I shone the torch on it, I didn’t see the light reflected back.” They both stared into the darkness at the outline of the collapsed wall and Danny slowly pulled the torch from his pocket and snapped it on. He pointed the torch beam directly at the mirror, his hand
shaking a little.
The figure appeared to be standing behind the glass with hands pressed against the inside frame. Its bright green eyes were looking directly at them and one hand appeared to beckon them with a little wave.
Danny and Jessica had cleared the church ruins, the desolate graveyard and the wood & wire fence in probably under a minute – had this been an Olympic race, they would have won gold.
The pair didn’t stop running until they reached the High Street and ran down the tube Station steps – two at a time. They found the East bound platform packed with people sheltering from the bombing. There was music playing and a small group of families were singing and passing bottles of beer amongst themselves. People were sleeping wherever they could squeeze in and no-one seemed to mind the crush.
They sat on the stairway’s steps and pressed up against the wall; still panting from their frantic dash – then started laughing and Danny gripped her hand tightly and smiled; "It was probably some old vagrant kipping down and we’ve scared the pee out of the poor old bugger!” Jessica grinned broadly and fumbled in her coat pockets; pulling her brown lunch bag out and peering inside; “Two cheese and tomato sandwiches, an apple and four broken digestive biscuits.” She announced handing Danny a sandwich and a couple of biscuit pieces. “Can you cut the apple in ‘aff?” She added.
Danny nodded and from his pocket; pulled a small pen-knife and cleaned the blade with his hankie. He reluctantly had to let go of her hand to accept the apple and deftly sliced it into two pieces. They ate quietly watching the crowd milling about the platform until a middle aged women approached them clutching a photograph. “Excuse me young man, have you seen this boy?”
Danny smiled and took the picture; it was a boy of about twelve in a jumper and short trousers, standing next to his bicycle. He had quite a mop of light coloured hair. He shook his head and passed the picture to Jessica who also hadn’t seen the youngster.
The sad looking woman sighed; “He was earning an extra shilling by delivering the late edition papers, I walked with him to the shop, but then the bombing started. I lost him and I’ve been searching ever since.” She looked about and saying a quiet ‘thank you’ to the pair, wandered off. Danny watched her go, trying to approach other people who appeared to ignore the woman. Then he saw her pass the photograph to a young girl in ambulance driver’s uniform – who also shook her head; no.
Danny watched the young ambulance woman looking about, no-one seemed to notice her – apart from the desperate mum and....him and Jessica.
“At least me mum won’t start worrying ‘bout me until after ten, that’s when me bleedin’ shift would have finished at Arnold bleedin’ Packer and Sons.” Jessica finished her apple and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, which made Danny laugh and smile, he glanced down at his watch and frowned; “My bloody watch has stopped.” He pulled it from his wrist and shook it a couple of times; “No, it’s definitely broken, stopped at one thirty.”
He pushed the watch into his breast pocket and tried to remember what he was doing at one thirty that may have broken the damn thing. Suddenly, he had a vision of the German plane coming up from below him; the wings spitting little bursts of flame, then, as he pulled the stick back to climb, he saw his watch: it showed one thirty.
“I can’t remember escaping from the jerry fighter or bailing out.” He whispered and rubbed his eyes and face. He recalled smoke in the cockpit and pulling frantically at the canopy, but nothing after that – nothing – until he saw Jessica by the bus stop and that strange old man in the bright black suit who smiled at him.
Wailing sirens snapped him from the strange thoughts that were filling his troubled head. “That’s the bleedin’ All Clear!” Jessica grabbed his arm and pair made their way from the station, the dark London streets was full of activity; ambulances and fire engines screamed past, army trucks rumbled by towing anti-aircraft guns and rescue squads were working in the rubble - sometimes calling for silence as they tried to listen for the cries of the trapped.
A couple of Air Raid Wardens strode past them with dogs, who had little boots on their paws – that made Jessica giggle. Danny explained they were search dogs and the boots stopped their little paws from being injured by glass and sharp rubble, when they climbed around bombed buildings.
“They’ll probably dock me a day’s pay for not turning in for me shift; bleedin’ tight gits.” Jessica said with some sadness as they headed up Cuthbert Street and the long walk back home. That’s where they came upon the mob outside Brick Lane Police Station, where a couple of Constables were on the steps allowing one or two people through at a time.
“Reporting missing relatives.” Danny said quietly to Jessica, who nodded her agreement. A young Constable was standing a few yards from them, arms folded and his helmet pushed back; he turned and smiled; “What happened to you, forgot where you parked it?” Danny looked puzzled for a moment, then laughed; “No, some bleeding jerry took it off me.”
The Policeman smiled and gave a jaunty salute; “Some of them are reporting the ‘Apparition’ again – apparently it’s been seen near the tube Station; normally after closing time at the Royal Oak!” Showing a smile he walked off, and Danny realised he had seen the young Policeman before, but couldn’t think where.
Jessica pushed her arm through his and the pair walked past the noisy mob and into Bridge Street, where a little flash of light drew their attention to the Royal Oak’s darkened doorway. “Put that light out!” Someone yelled and received a two fingered salute from a hand pushed from the black-out curtains. Jessica laughed and then sounded quite puzzled; “I thought the old Royal Oak copped it last week, they must have done a good job to get it open again.”
They exchanged glances and grinned – then headed for the pub entrance.
The place was heaving with customers and the two barmaids were busy; Irene sipped a straight gin and slowly drew on her cigarette, she straightened her very tight blouse – she knew the punters loved catching an eyeful of her expansive breasts and the drinks and tips came quickly. Only last week she had made her wages again from the tips. Earning nearly six pounds instead of just three pounds & ten shillings; but then her jumper had not left much to the imagination!
She watched the young airman approach the bar, hands shuffling in his pockets for money, after seating the young girl in the quiet corner by the kitchen door. “A half of best and a lemonade please.” He smiled at Irene and she liked the look of this dark haired, handsome young man – and a bloody pilot as well – what more could a girl want.
Kath stubbed out her cigarette and sipped her tea – it was lukewarm now - but she swallowed it down and checked her appearance in the mirror; she may be in her early forties but she could still hold her own against young tarts like Irene and she had one other advantage; she was the landlady of the Royal Oak!
“Ask the girls age please Irene.” She called over as she served two rowdy sailors and their ‘lady friend’ who could easily pass as their mother – Kath looked again; ‘Christ, their grandmother!’ then laughed to herself.
“The old lady probably entertained their fathers during the last war.” She whispered to Irene who squealed with laughter; “The gorgeous young flyboy says the girl is 18 and does shift work at Arnold Packers, they’re having a quick drink before she goes home and he has to get back to the bloody war!”
Kath smiled at the pair, sitting staring at each other in the quiet corner and sighed; “What a bleedin’ time to fall in love; in the middle of a bloody war.”
Then another couple caught her eye as they approached the bar. She eased past Irene; “I’ll get this pair.”
“Hello Mr. Tibbs and it’s lovely to see you again Lady Alex, here to see Harry?” Kath motioned to the rear stairs and added; "He's up there; in front of the fire."
Jericho and Alex climbed the small attic stairs with a flickering oil lamp for guidance and Jericho knocked gently on the brightly painted door – though the paint was old and flaking.
A soft voice called for them to enter and Jericho pushed open the creaking door and they entered the poorly lit, but surprisingly warm little room. Alex could see flames in the fire place and the slight smell of Lavender pervaded the atmosphere. The voice had come from a high backed chair placed before the fire; she and Jericho slowly sat on the sofa opposite.
“Harry, I want you to meet Alexandra; one of my colleagues.” Jericho turned to Alex and smiled; “This is Harry Hadden – he’s been one of my agents here for more years than I wish to remember.” The old man managed a smile and leaned forward to shake Alex’s hand and she gripped it firmly; “Hello Harry, it’s nice to finally meet you.” She spoke quietly and knew that he had been a strapping, handsome young man in his prime, with a quick mind and was possibly, one of London’s finest Police Detectives. Jericho had always considered him one of his best human agents – him and his sister Dorothy.
Alex already knew that Jericho had spoken to Angel Margret about Harry joining the Temporal Detectives Department, after he completed his assignment here. But Jericho had remained silent about Dorothy and that puzzled Alex, considering how much he admired her skills. Still, the young woman's fate would become apparent when Jericho wished to reveal it.
There was a quiet knock and Kath appeared with a large tea tray; “I managed to get some bleedin’ biscuits Harry – the queue stretched down bleedin’ Garden Street – you would have thought they were waiting for flippin’ steak and not Crawford’s bloody custard creams!” They all thanked Kath who quickly returned to the bar – she had nearly a full house and Irene wasn’t the quickest barmaid in London.
Harry nibbled his biscuit and looked over his tea cup at Alex, but spoke to Jericho; “You should bring Alexandra here, back when the old King was on the throne [King Edward VII] I think she would love the East end of those days.”
Jericho smiled and nodded, turning to Alex; “Harry was one of the youngest Detective Inspectors ever, and that was in 1901. He and his sister Dorothy are my finest agents for the early 20th Century in England. You would love to meet Dorothy, I think you two would become very close friends.” Harry agreed with that and Alex poured him a refill – intrigued by the young woman that Jericho always spoke so highly of - Alex would have liked to hear more about her.
But Jericho switched the conversation to the reason for their visit; “How’s operation ‘Shepherd’ going?” He asked Harry and settled back, sipping his tea.
Harry chuckled; “I love that name. Well, we must have rounded up at least a dozen or so in the last couple of days and Kath says we have nearly a full house again tonight.”
Jericho nodded; Operation ‘Shepherd’ had been set up to catch lost Souls – humans killed in the bombing who didn’t realise they had passed over, so quick and instant were their deaths. The Royal Oak pub had now become a portal for the Collectors seeking missing souls – and it was working; with the newly dead turning up to be greeted by their Collectors.
Jericho pointed out to Alex that the pub itself had been destroyed by enemy bombing and its occupants killed – including Harry, Kath, Irene and the young cellar boy; Paul. But now they were working for Angel Margret, who had resurrected the pub and its occupants for this little operation and the bewildered dead were turning up in growing numbers.
“Only the dead can see the pub and fellow dead people inside; the living just sees a derelict, burnt-out pub – destroyed by German bombs.” Jericho finished his tea and enjoyed another biscuit. Harry chuckled and said to Alex; “Never thought I’d finish my days being blown up by bloody German’s in my own bed!” They sat chatting about the ‘old days’ and Harry informed them about the latest sightings of the ‘apparition’, creeping about the dark and bloody streets of East London, probably on the prowl for vulnerable souls.
But here was another knock at the door and Kath pushed her head around and spoke to Harry; “I think you should know, that we have a nice young couple down stairs that’s seen the ‘Apparition’ and they know where the bugger is hiding out!” Harry gave the thumbs up and Jericho placed his tea cup down and nodded to Alex; “I think we’ll have a little chat with them before their Collector whips them away.”
Kath smiled and sighed; “Be gentle with ‘em Mr. Tibbs, they’re very young and they’ve fallen in love, bless ‘em.” Alex glanced at Jericho and saw the look upon his face; “It’s called romance Jericho, you should look it up.” She chuckled to herself, but Jericho just grunted and the pair said their farewell’s to Harry and returned to the bar with Kath, who pointed the love struck youngsters out.
Alex grinned and sighed loudly; “Oh yes, Jericho that young pair are in love,” The couple sat talking very close and holding hands below the little table. Alex noticed that Jericho had a strange smile upon his face, as they walked over and introduced themselves to the bewildered pair.
It was quite easy to convince the young Pilot that he was in fact; dead. Danny already had an inkling that something was dreadfully wrong – he knew that he could not have survived the crash onto that wasteland - never mind wander around the streets; but how come Jessica could see and touch him?
Alex explained to the pair that they were both in fact; dead. Alex consulted her mirror and told Danny how he died – when she stated the time had been one-thirty - he nodded and showed them his watch. “I sort of guessed that I had been killed; I couldn’t get the bloody canopy open to jump.” He swallowed his beer in one gulp and smiled at Jessica; “Sorry sweetheart.” Gripping her hand with both of his, the pair exchanged a really sad and haunting look.
Alex turned to Jessica, who had small tears running down her cheeks, and informed the girl that she had died the previous night, when her house had been struck by a bomb, killing her and her mother as they cowered in the small cellar. Somehow the pair had been missed by their Collector and both her and her mother’s soul was listed as missing.
“We can get a Collector to the address and save your mum’s soul before something terrible happens to it – especially with the ‘apparition’ stalking the streets.” Alex added and patted Jessica’s wet face, wiping away her falling tears.
“Can we stay together Mr. Tibbs?” Danny asked; “I mean we’re both now dead, can we stay with each other please?” Alex glanced at Jericho; she already knew that their souls would go to new, separate lives as directed by the Duty Death Angel. Jessica also pleaded with Mr. Tibbs to stay with Danny and Alex could feel she was getting a little emotional herself over the pair.
But Jericho pointed out that Jessica had died before Danny and so they should never have met; well, not whilst alive anyway! That’s when Alex drew Jericho’s attention to the bar and a young man being refused service by Kath; both Danny and Jessica asked about the strange glow he seemed to radiate. “He’s still alive and doesn’t realise he has the ability to see and speak to the dead. Kath has told him to leave and he’ll get a shock, if he looks back at the pub and see’s its true appearance.” Jericho said, watching the confused young man wander from the Royal Oak, totally unaware of the ‘supernatural’ experience he was just involved in.
The young pair sat desolate and heartbroken at Mr. Tibbs words.
Nevertheless, they both volunteered to show the temporal detectives where they had seen the ‘apparition’ and the little group left the pub, with Jericho and Alex saying goodbye to Kath and Irene. They watched as a couple of souls also departed – now with their Collectors.
When Alex looked back at the pub, as they walked towards Queen’s square, it had returned to its derelict and burnt out state. The remains of the Royal Oak would be demolished after the war and a new office building erected on the site – less than a century later -no-one would even remember that the pub stood there, never mind the people who lived and died in her.
“That’s the funny old man who was at the bus stop!” Danny exclaimed and Jessica nodded her agreement. George the Collector smiled and lifted his hat to Alex and spoke to Jericho; “Morning Mr. Tibbs, busy around here these days – I see you’ve caught up with a couple of lost ones.” He indicated to Danny and Jessica and added; “Their not in my book [Soul Ledger] but I called it in when I saw them at the bus stop. I’ve never seen a time with so many lost ones.” He then smiled again and shrugged his shoulders; “Well apart from that last world war.”
He waved goodbye and headed into the Royal Oak, whilst the little group made their way to St. Mungus Church. Danny was explaining to Jericho about the mirror and how it must have been bricked up in the wall; when the church was build back in the fifteen hundreds.
Jericho pulled his mirror from a pocket and looked the church up. He turned to Alex, who was in deep conversation with Jessica, and said softly; “Doc Underhill’s team dealt with the demon back in 1482 and the Guardian assigned to the case could only imprison the bugger in glass. The local human team managed to have the mirror bricked up in the Church wall. Why this wasn’t followed up is a mystery because Doc did file a report to the Demonic Ingresses Department; someone cocked up.” Jericho sighed and placed a call for a Duty Guardian to attend, but he also noticed that a copy of his request was forwarded to Angel Margret for information. Alex tapped his shoulder; “Why would Angel Margret be interested in minor demon ingress?”
8. THE DEMON AND THE KNIGHT.
“It’s alright; that’s Oscar - he’s a Guardian.” Alex said and waved to Oscar who raised his arm in salute. The little man was dressed in a smart three piece suit with a bright red waistcoat and dark bowler hat, clutched in his hand was a plain wooden staff. He leaned upon the staff and grinned; “Hi Alex, you always look gorgeous; no matter what time you’re in!” Alex just laughed and introduced Oscar to Danny and Jessica who seemed quite amazed that a Guardian of God was a dwarf.....and African.
“I thought they would be like medieval knights with shining armour and swords!” Danny exclaimed; then grinned and shook Oscar’s outstretched hand and the little man held up his staff; "You can't go far wrong with the staff of Moses - ideal for most demons!"
“About the armour and swords, your thinking about a Knight of God - they dress up like that - sometimes!" Oscar indicated to himself with a wide grin, adding; "It can be bit of a surprise, I know, and can be bit of a bummer when it comes to romance; but apart from that it really doesn’t matter my friends.” He smiled at the pair and pulled a mirror from his jacket pocket and turned to Jericho; “Apparently the clean up was never completed and so this naughty little demon was left trapped in the mirror, until the bloody bombing pulled down the church wall and let Kasha out. She’s probably well pissed off after spending hundreds of human years stuck in a piece of glass!”
“Talk of the devil.” Muttered Alex and pointed to the crypt doorway as the figure emerged into the moonlight – it was the demon known as Kasha.
Jericho gripped Oscar by the arm and unsmiling, spoke quietly to the little man; "She's a First Tier Demon now Oscar!" Jericho now realised why she had only been quarantined all those years ago - a Guardian would not have the power to compel such an entity back to Hell; only a Knight of God possessed that strength and authority.
"I think an urgent call to Demon Ingress is required here." Alex whispered and pulled Danny and Jessica to one side - uncollected souls such as they, would be easy prey for such a demon - easy prey indeed. "Get them away from here Alex and do it now!" Jericho ordered and Alex obeyed without question, she pulled the mirror from her skirts pocket and flipped it open.
Alex, Danny and Jessica disappeared in an instant.
Oscar gripped his staff with both hands and whispered closely to Jericho; "You best get the fuck outa here Jericho; I'll hold her for long as I can. Now go!"
Jericho reluctantly agreed and pulled his own mirror from his coat pocket and flipped it open. But a stunning flash of light illuminated the old churchyard and both he and Oscar shielded their eyes, they could hear the snarling of the demon, as she also realised what just happened.
Jericho sighed loudly with utter relief and Oscar lifted his hat and wiped his brow; James, a Knight of God stood before them - sword in hand. He turned to the pair and smiled; "I suggest you two make yourself scarce. Margret certainly had your back on this one Jericho!"
As the pair disappeared, Jericho heard Oscar mutter; "Another little battle in the bloody war of good and evil." They appeared outside number 37 Kitchener Road or rather, what was left of the little house. Alex was standing amongst the rubble with Jessica - who was cuddling her mother with great relief and much love - and a certain Mr. Silas Copperbent; a very senior Time-Controller who was scribbling in a large red notebook. The old man looked up and smiled broadly at the pair and bowed a little. "Hello Jericho; been having a spot of bother with a pesky little demon have we?"
He nodded at Oscar, who raised his hat and then vanished - returning to his office; the Demon Ingress Department - to fill out his report for Angel Margret.
Jericho shook his hand and grinned; "The cavalry arrived, literally in the nick of time; thanks to Angel Margret." Alex gripped his arm and smiled; "Mr. Copperbent has told me of your plan and I would never have believed, that under that crusty exterior, you were an old romantic!"
Jericho rolled his eyes; but did smile. "I've been called many things over the years, but never that."
9. MR. JERICHO TIBBS; AN OLD ROMANTIC?
Silas tapped his notebook and pointed down the road; a gaggle of Rescue workers, soldiers, firemen and other assorted characters were heading towards them - followed by an ambulance which picked its way carefully over the torn and rubble strewn road.
"The local rescue centre has just realised, that they didn't search the last two remaining houses in Kitchener Road, due to the German bombers quick return and will do so now." He turned to Alex and gestured towards the souls of Miss Jessica Martin and her mother; Mrs. Helen Martin and added; "They will dig out these two alive from the rubble, not badly injured but they will require conveyance to hospital in the ambulance - which also contains a slightly injured young pilot, who was just pulled from his crashed plane some minutes ago after a spectacular and quite miraculous, crash landing!"
Old Silas chuckled to himself and wondered how Jericho had pulled this off with Angel Margret - but then, everyone knew the Angel had quite a soft spot for her favourite Temporal Detective Inspector.
The Angel had given her authority, for the minor changes to the current time-line, to take place. Miss Martin and her mother would both survive the war as would a certain young pilot. What happens when the pair meet up in the ambulance lay with themselves - the gift of freewill and all that!
Alex had explained to the young couple and Jessica's mother, that they would remember nothing about their time whilst dead and should they meet up again, neither would recognise the other. She also explained that Angel Margret had made the decision because the error lay with the Collections Department - the pair should have never met; but they did!
So it was decided to resurrect the pair and Jessica's mother [because Jessica was supposed to die with her in the basement of their house - together and allow the time-line to run with its new settings. All other deaths would remain on record. Danny would crash his plane, but survive, with Jessica and Helen being pulled from their house alive.
With everything explained, Alex said a quite emotional farewell to Jessica and the pair hugged tightly for a few minutes and suddenly Jessica and Helen were gone. From the basement of the collapsed house could be heard groans and little, strained shouts for help.
Mr. Silas Copperbent [still grinning broadly] took his farewell of the two Temporal Detectives and returned to the time-line control room; also to write up his report for Angel Margret.
Alex and Jericho watched as the rescue party set about freeing the two women from the ruins of their house - they worked with great joy and relief as a dedicated team and soon the pair were pulled from the debris - Jessica crying and swearing loudly; to be admonished by her mother, who hugged the girl constantly as they were placed into the ambulance.
The young pilot offered cigarettes all round and he and Jessica sat talking about their respective ordeals, as the ambulance man slowly closed the doors and headed for the cab.
None of the living humans could obviously see the pair of smiling Temporal Detectives, standing amongst the rubble and in particular Alex who was already reading her mirror. She sighed loudly and smiled broadly; "A smashing war time romance that resulted in a marriage that lasted for nearly forty eight years." Alex wiped a little tear away with her soft white hankie and gripped Jericho's arm; "They were so close, they both passed over within a few weeks of each other."
Jericho just nodded, but he did smile a little; "Best we get back to the lighthouse, Angel Margret will want a full report on this one - some one is in for an arse kicking over that bloody demon; she managed to steal 22 souls and they are not likely to be recovered."
The pair disappeared as the sirens started to wail; the night would bring more horror, fear and death to the battered streets of east London. The Collectors would be out in large numbers yet again.
Jericho and Alex walked slowly towards the grand door of the lighthouse, where Mr. Harris was waiting to take coats and hats. He also informed them that Mr. Wilson and young Owen had returned from their mission to Revolutionary America of 1775 - with a successful conclusion to the trip - and most importantly, the dinner guest had arrived; James, a Knight of God had accepted Jericho's invitation for supper and drinks.
"No doubt James will regale us with his heroic battle with the Demon and drain my bar of Vodka." Jericho muttered and held up both hands in mock despair; but he did notice the smile upon Alex's face at that announcement - he also smiled - but said nothing further.
EPILOGUE:
"This mission was particularly difficult for the Team; it was only part successful. The defeat of the Demon Kasha was necessary and was accomplished. But the unscheduled meeting between Jessica & Danny should never have happened. Angel Margret had to concede that the Collections Department was at fault. The changes to the human Time line was allowed to remain."
W.A.S.
CHARACTERS:
Miss Jessica Martin should have died - aged sixteen - in the early German bombing of London's east end in 1940. But, somehow, her soul was overlooked or missed by the collector. She should never have met Danny Hart - who had also been killed on the same day - but she did. Angel Margret accepted that the error lay with the Collections Department and gave authority for the current time-line to alter a little. Jessica was to live until 1984, when she passed away due to complications of Type 1 Diabetes's. Her soul was collected correctly this time and processed.
Mrs. Helen Martin, Jessica's mother, should have died with her daughter in the bombing and was also overlooked by the Collector. She survived the war and re-married in 1948. She died in 1962 in a road traffic accident whilst on holiday in Blackpool. Her soul was collected correctly this time and processed.
Flight Officer Daniel 'Danny' Hart survived the war despite being shot down once more, He had also been overlooked by his Collector in the confusion of mass deaths. He and Jessica married in 1942 and remained together until her death. He died just two months after her passing - many said it was through total grief at losing Jessica. His soul was collected properly this time and processed.
Miss Mavis Richards - the bus conductress - apparently had some kind of premonition of her death that morning; she had hugged her mother and two younger brothers closely, before leaving for work that fateful morning - she never usually showed that sort of emotion. Her soul was collected and processed.
Kasha - the Demon - wasn't happy about being stuck in the mirror for nearly five hundred human years! - but she had made up for lost time by stealing 22 souls before James - a Knight of God - drove her back to her master; the Dark Prince. She's still around today; stealing souls and creating mischief for the armies of the BOSS.
Kenneth Michaels - the young Reserve Policeman - had only been in the police for a few months when he fell victim to a German bomb on that fateful day. The blast blinded him and he suffered major burns. He died in hospital some days later and the surgeon confided to his grieving mother, that death had been a 'blessed relief' for the young man. His soul was collected and processed.
Norman Gates - a Reserve Policeman had, died just hours after the bombing and his soul had wandered the streets until he was found by a passing collector. He had told the collector about the two other souls he had encountered; Jessica and Danny. His own soul was processed.
Mrs. Doris Kent - the mother searching for her missing son - didn't realise she was dead for some time, after being killed by the bomb that hit the small News & sweet shop, where her young son Clifford worked as a paper delivery boy. Clifford had also been killed there and his soul was collected. Doris's soul was collected as she left the Underground station, where she had encountered Jessica and Danny.
Miss Alice Pullman - London Ambulance Service - should never have been on duty that day, but had swapped with a colleague, who had just become a father and wanted to see his baby son. She was on her way to the station, when the bombing started and was killed trying to get into the Underground Station. After Doris had spoken to her, she followed the woman up the stairs and found the collector waiting. Her soul was processed.
Mrs. Irene Wilson - Barmaid at the Royal Oak - was killed by the bomb that had struck the pub. Like Kath and Harry, she had agreed to take part in 'Operation Shepherd' and she worked gathering souls together until late 1940, when her soul was finally collected and processed. Angel Margret thanked her personally before sending back into the human life cycle.
Mrs. Katherine Meadows; Land Lady of the Royal Oak and a human agent for Jericho Tibbs, had been killed in the bombing of the pub and like Irene and Harry had agreed to take part in 'Operation Shepherd', which had been set up by Jericho; with Angel Margret's approval and assistance. Her soul was finally collected and processed in early 1941. She now works as a Collector.
Copyright © 2011-2025 Stephen Williams. No reproduction of any part without permission.
Her mother stood in the front doorway and waved the small brown paper bag; “I queued for an hour yesterday for that bloody cheese, so get back here and get your lunch... and I managed to get an apple for you!” Helen folded her arms over the long white apron that covered a drab dress which had seen better days. She shook her head in mock despair, but smiled as Jessica sauntered back up the garden path and accepted her lunch with a big grin.
The bottom windows were boarded up and the house had clearly seen better days - but it was their home, and Hitler wasn't about to drive them out.
“I’ll try and get back before ten, but it depends on those bleedin’ buses. This new war timetable is bleedin’ useless. I’d be better off on a flamin’ pushbike!” Miss Jessica Martin gave her mum a little kiss on the cheek and with a wave, headed for the bus stop and the fifteen minute journey to “Arnold Packer & Sons Ltd.” Where young Jessica would work a late shift in the canteen, serving behind the works counter, cleaning tables, washing up and making endless cups of tea throughout the shift – and all for 25 shillings a week, having left school just last month. She didn't like this shift because it meant travelling home in the 'Black-out', but at least no-one noticed her old worn clothes in the darkness.
Jessica had no real money to buy work clothes - she gave her mother all of last weeks wages; just to pay the back rent. Charlie's home allowance that he sent monthly, put food on the table and her father's maintenance Postal Orders had a nasty habit of not appearing on time. She still could not forgive her dad for running off with some posh speaking tart from the Co-Op Store last year, leaving them in real poverty.
She couldn't even afford to purchase the subsidised meals provided at work - hence the lunch bag. But she was very grateful that the factory provided its canteen staff with quite a nice uniform: Black dress, white blouse and floppy mop cap.
But no stockings, they were really expensive and already in short supply, so Jessica wore white ankle socks – like she always did to school, where she admitted to herself; that she learnt ‘bog all’ of any use. It was the skills that mum had taught her, which landed Jessica the factory job – she could cook really well and knew how to clean thoroughly, but most important of all; she could brew a cracking cup of tea!
She pulled her worn brown coat about her and peered up at the two barrage balloons floating above the docks; she could see several others in the distance, all moving gently on their cables. “Fat lot of bleedin’ good they’ll do when Mister Hitler calls again with his bloody Luftwaffe.” She laughed to herself and then thought about her brother; Charlie, now serving in the Royal Navy and wondered what he would think of the bombing over the last couple of days.
Jessica had heard that several families in Park Road and Green Avenue had been killed and the rescue people were still trying to dig out survivors. Her mum; Helen, said she knew one of the families and all four had been killed, trying to hide under the kitchen table.
Jessica stared up at the clear sky and thought she could see little dark spots heading away from the City towards the coast.
“May as well try and use bleedin’ catapults to bring the buggers down.” She grinned broadly and remembered Charlie and the things he smashed with the catapult, which he always kept in his rear pocket. Jessica wondered if Charlie still had it; maybe he had packed it in his kit bag when he was posted to HMS Cornwall. The last letter mum had received hinted he was in South Africa, and Jessica really envied him the opportunity of real travel, the last place she had visited was bloody Southend-On-Sea – but it had been a real laugh – lots of ice-cream, paddling in the cold sea and a trip down the pier, where a gust of wind stole her hat.
Then she noticed the bus was already waiting and she ran to the stop, joining the queue of several women and one old man who was clutching a little black book and he appeared to smile directly at her; if about to speak. Glancing behind, she saw the young RAF Pilot emerging from Albert Road, still clutching his flying helmet and dusting himself down. He grinned at Jessica and started to walk towards the bus stop slowly, looking about and smiling.
The Conductor, Mavis, a big woman with a wide smile and ill-fitting trousers shouted; “Three downstairs and three up top, come on, before Adolf clips your ticket for good!” The queue, with a little ripple of laughter, started to shuffle forward and Jessica cursed her luck, there were seven in the queue and she was last – again. The women climbed onto the bus and the old man waited at the rear and waved his little book about, as if trying to attract someone’s attention.
2. AIR RAID.
Then the sirens screamed into action and Jessica looked up to see large dark spots appearing in the sky, someway in the distance – but heading for her.
“Oh flippin’ hell!” She shouted and remembered there was a Public Shelter in nearby Christopher Street, by the Gaumont Theatre. She recalled the sandbagged entrance by the sign declaring the forthcoming feature; Errol Flynn in the ‘Prince and the Pauper’. She ran quickly, clutching her lunch with the awful gas mask bag slapping against her bum, she glanced up to the see that the dark spots were indeed planes - lots of them: she shouted angrily to herself; "Where the ‘ell are our fly boys?”
The first explosion made the ground tremble and a large white and orange flash filled the sky some streets away, then a dark grey spout appeared and she could smell burning. A second one followed close to the first and Jessica was now running full pelt into Christopher Street which was filled with screaming, frantic people pushing their way into the Shelter by any means.
Unable to pass through the wall of struggling people, she glanced behind her and could see the bus she was about to board on its side – ablaze. Two flaming figures struggled from the wreck and collapsed onto the roadway, she knew one was Mavis, the big, cheerful conductor, she didn't know the other woman and never would. The smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils and Jessica wanted to vomit. But with shaking legs, she again tried to push through the hysterical crowd until her arm was grabbed by the young man in the dirty RAF uniform; “You’ll never get in there, there are too many bloody people!” He shouted and dragged her towards the large stone doorway of the Library which was also heavily sandbagged.
“We’ll stand a better chance in here!” He yelled above the noise of more explosions nearby. Jessica followed the young Pilot into the semi-darkness of the fortified doorway and they crouched down in a corner as the terrible noise of dying people continued unabated outside. "For gaud sake; it's raining bleedin' bombs!" Jessica whispered, then more explosions followed and the ground appeared to move in ripples, one was close, causing sand and dirt to fly about the confined space. The young couple coughed loudly and the Pilot shouted; “There are more of the bastards than usual, Herr Goering is after the docks and he really doesn’t mind who he kills!”
Jessica realised she was crying and wiped her damp face with a shaking hand; “Where the ‘ell are our flying boys?” She repeated with real anger in her voice and the young Pilot crouching next to her laughed; “Well, this one is really close Miss!” Jessica brushed away more tears and then chuckled; “Why you down here and not up there then mate?” The young man offered her a clean white hankie and sighed; “I was, but didn’t see a sneaky jerry come up from below me – bang! – I ended up here with my crate in pieces.” He smiled and dusted himself down again and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up, offering it to Jessica, who shook her head and fumbled in her coat pocket for a couple of humbugs she knew were hiding there.
The young couple sat nervously chatting in the semi-darkness, swapping backgrounds and even laughing at each other’s daft comments. The raid had lasted for about an hour and evening was moving in. Pilot Officer Daniel ‘Danny’ Hart had only qualified as a Pilot two months ago and had fought in one ‘sorte’ before – without any luck; he suffered instrument failure and had to return to the airfield. It had been his twenty-first birthday just two weeks ago. He grinned at Jessica and chuckled; “Most men get the key to the ruddy door at 21. I got a bloody big Spitfire and a bloody big war to match it!”
Unknown to the pair – and everyone else at the time – some five or six streets away, another couple were walking slowly through the carnage, looking about at the death and destruction.
Mr. Jericho Tibbs and Lady Alexandra Cappanni passed unnoticed by the rescue crews, struggling to reach survivors buried in their own homes. The dead and dying suddenly appeared on nearly every street corner, placed outside shattered shops and homes, sometimes on a stretcher, but most under a dirty sheet or Fireman’s coat.
The rescuers struggled over broken roads, soaked by ruptured water pipes and fire hoses; frantically trying to reach buried survivors before the planes returned.
Jericho glanced towards a burning Newspaper shop; outside was a mangled bike and a grey canvas bag from which newspapers had spilled onto the road. Red streaks of blood directed his eyes to the shattered body of the child – torn apart by the bomb he couldn’t see or escape. Alex commented on his wonderful mop of blond hair, and then realised it was no longer connected to his head. She covered her mouth in horror and the pair hurried past the awful sight.
Night was now falling and there would be no relief from the horrors, as Germany would now be bombing at night, having suffered heavy losses in daytime raids.
They passed a couple of Collectors with several souls in tow - one raised his hand and shouted 'Hello Mr. Tibbs!' Both Jericho and Alex returned the greeting with Jericho muttering; "They're going to be busy for the next few years!" Alex nodded her agreement and they walked on.
“Perfect environment for the ‘Dark One’ to strike, don’t you think?” He quietly asked Alex, who was staring up at the darkening sky, as more planes filled the air. Jericho sighed and glanced down at the report about the strange apparition that had recently appeared on the streets of London’s East End; right in the middle of the Blitz.
He looked up and pointed towards Cuthbert Street; "Down there and his address is just minutes away. He should be able to give us a full update on the sightings - he's been part of my human team here for some time."
“Here they come again.” Alex said simply and the pair de-materialised from their human form – for now.
3. A GLIMPSE OF HELL.
They emerged from the battered doorway into the gathering gloom and simply could not believe the sight before them – burning buildings, rancid thick smoke and the screams of the trapped and dying. The Co-operative butcher’s shop just opposite was no more than a blazing frame, then the roof collapsed with an explosion of debris and flame. It threw two charred bodies upon the broken road and Jessica screamed in real horror.
Danny took hold of her hand quite firmly and the pair ran towards the street corner, neither one looked back, as grey smoke covered the dreadful scene and the night sky became a vivid mix of yellow and orange – East London was burning.
“We need to get to a tube station, they’ll be back and it won’t be safe to stay on the street.” Danny shouted as they ran past a blazing Fire-engine; some on the crew still sprawled around it or rather pieces of the crew were still laying beside it. Two Constables staggered past them; their uniforms in rags and both covered in black burn wounds. One was blind and trying to grip his colleagues arm, but the skin on his hands simply peeled away - He was crying and screaming swear words every few seconds. The pair disappeared around the street corner and his voice was still heard for some time before it stopped.
Danny and Jessica made their way over the broken roads and pavements, past the burning buildings, past the frantic rescue attempts and past the dead covered with sheets, curtains, coats and anything that could hide their torn and dismembered bodies.
Finally, they reached St. Mungus church and both climbed the wooden and wire fencing placed by the local council to keep people from entering the ruins – the church had been derelict since the end of the last war.
“They’re coming back; we’ll never make the tube station now!” Danny had yelled as bombs started falling in the distance. From the Dock area they saw vivid explosions and heard the sound of anti-aircraft fire.
4. ST. MUNGUS CHURCH.
They made their way through the old church and down the worn steps to the crypt; the ground rumbled as bombs fell across the roadway, lighting up the crypt door, which was already shattered into several pieces and they scrambled in as the light of the bomb flashes faded.
Danny was digging into his trouser pockets and cussing quietly, but he found what he was searching for: his little flight torch. He snapped the light on and slowly passed it around the crypt. They saw broken stone coffins, smashed angels and pieces of timber, roof tiles and where the wall had partially collapsed: an old mirror with yellowing glass. Danny stared at the mirror for a couple of minutes, but it was Jessica that answered the question he had asked himself.
“It must have been bricked up behind that old wall.” She spoke quietly and nervously, pushing the last surviving humbug into her dry mouth. “But this church was built in Medieval Times; they must have bricked it up centuries ago – but why?” Danny whispered and pushed a hand over his face, then snapped the torch off.
They sat silently in the dark for a few minutes until Danny finished his cigarette and tapped Jessica’s arm; “Do you know what’s really odd about the old mirror?” Jessica pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them; “No.” She said quietly.
Danny chuckled and with a very quiet voice said; “When I shone the torch on it, I didn’t see the light reflected back.” They both stared into the darkness at the outline of the collapsed wall and Danny slowly pulled the torch from his pocket and snapped it on. He pointed the torch beam directly at the mirror, his hand
shaking a little.
The figure appeared to be standing behind the glass with hands pressed against the inside frame. Its bright green eyes were looking directly at them and one hand appeared to beckon them with a little wave.
Danny and Jessica had cleared the church ruins, the desolate graveyard and the wood & wire fence in probably under a minute – had this been an Olympic race, they would have won gold.
5. THE UNDERGROUND.
The pair didn’t stop running until they reached the High Street and ran down the tube Station steps – two at a time. They found the East bound platform packed with people sheltering from the bombing. There was music playing and a small group of families were singing and passing bottles of beer amongst themselves. People were sleeping wherever they could squeeze in and no-one seemed to mind the crush.
They sat on the stairway’s steps and pressed up against the wall; still panting from their frantic dash – then started laughing and Danny gripped her hand tightly and smiled; "It was probably some old vagrant kipping down and we’ve scared the pee out of the poor old bugger!” Jessica grinned broadly and fumbled in her coat pockets; pulling her brown lunch bag out and peering inside; “Two cheese and tomato sandwiches, an apple and four broken digestive biscuits.” She announced handing Danny a sandwich and a couple of biscuit pieces. “Can you cut the apple in ‘aff?” She added.
Danny nodded and from his pocket; pulled a small pen-knife and cleaned the blade with his hankie. He reluctantly had to let go of her hand to accept the apple and deftly sliced it into two pieces. They ate quietly watching the crowd milling about the platform until a middle aged women approached them clutching a photograph. “Excuse me young man, have you seen this boy?”
Danny smiled and took the picture; it was a boy of about twelve in a jumper and short trousers, standing next to his bicycle. He had quite a mop of light coloured hair. He shook his head and passed the picture to Jessica who also hadn’t seen the youngster.
The sad looking woman sighed; “He was earning an extra shilling by delivering the late edition papers, I walked with him to the shop, but then the bombing started. I lost him and I’ve been searching ever since.” She looked about and saying a quiet ‘thank you’ to the pair, wandered off. Danny watched her go, trying to approach other people who appeared to ignore the woman. Then he saw her pass the photograph to a young girl in ambulance driver’s uniform – who also shook her head; no.
Danny watched the young ambulance woman looking about, no-one seemed to notice her – apart from the desperate mum and....him and Jessica.
“At least me mum won’t start worrying ‘bout me until after ten, that’s when me bleedin’ shift would have finished at Arnold bleedin’ Packer and Sons.” Jessica finished her apple and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, which made Danny laugh and smile, he glanced down at his watch and frowned; “My bloody watch has stopped.” He pulled it from his wrist and shook it a couple of times; “No, it’s definitely broken, stopped at one thirty.”
He pushed the watch into his breast pocket and tried to remember what he was doing at one thirty that may have broken the damn thing. Suddenly, he had a vision of the German plane coming up from below him; the wings spitting little bursts of flame, then, as he pulled the stick back to climb, he saw his watch: it showed one thirty.
“I can’t remember escaping from the jerry fighter or bailing out.” He whispered and rubbed his eyes and face. He recalled smoke in the cockpit and pulling frantically at the canopy, but nothing after that – nothing – until he saw Jessica by the bus stop and that strange old man in the bright black suit who smiled at him.
Wailing sirens snapped him from the strange thoughts that were filling his troubled head. “That’s the bleedin’ All Clear!” Jessica grabbed his arm and pair made their way from the station, the dark London streets was full of activity; ambulances and fire engines screamed past, army trucks rumbled by towing anti-aircraft guns and rescue squads were working in the rubble - sometimes calling for silence as they tried to listen for the cries of the trapped.
A couple of Air Raid Wardens strode past them with dogs, who had little boots on their paws – that made Jessica giggle. Danny explained they were search dogs and the boots stopped their little paws from being injured by glass and sharp rubble, when they climbed around bombed buildings.
“They’ll probably dock me a day’s pay for not turning in for me shift; bleedin’ tight gits.” Jessica said with some sadness as they headed up Cuthbert Street and the long walk back home. That’s where they came upon the mob outside Brick Lane Police Station, where a couple of Constables were on the steps allowing one or two people through at a time.
“Reporting missing relatives.” Danny said quietly to Jessica, who nodded her agreement. A young Constable was standing a few yards from them, arms folded and his helmet pushed back; he turned and smiled; “What happened to you, forgot where you parked it?” Danny looked puzzled for a moment, then laughed; “No, some bleeding jerry took it off me.”
The Policeman smiled and gave a jaunty salute; “Some of them are reporting the ‘Apparition’ again – apparently it’s been seen near the tube Station; normally after closing time at the Royal Oak!” Showing a smile he walked off, and Danny realised he had seen the young Policeman before, but couldn’t think where.
6. THE ROYAL OAK.
Jessica pushed her arm through his and the pair walked past the noisy mob and into Bridge Street, where a little flash of light drew their attention to the Royal Oak’s darkened doorway. “Put that light out!” Someone yelled and received a two fingered salute from a hand pushed from the black-out curtains. Jessica laughed and then sounded quite puzzled; “I thought the old Royal Oak copped it last week, they must have done a good job to get it open again.”
They exchanged glances and grinned – then headed for the pub entrance.
The place was heaving with customers and the two barmaids were busy; Irene sipped a straight gin and slowly drew on her cigarette, she straightened her very tight blouse – she knew the punters loved catching an eyeful of her expansive breasts and the drinks and tips came quickly. Only last week she had made her wages again from the tips. Earning nearly six pounds instead of just three pounds & ten shillings; but then her jumper had not left much to the imagination!
She watched the young airman approach the bar, hands shuffling in his pockets for money, after seating the young girl in the quiet corner by the kitchen door. “A half of best and a lemonade please.” He smiled at Irene and she liked the look of this dark haired, handsome young man – and a bloody pilot as well – what more could a girl want.
Kath stubbed out her cigarette and sipped her tea – it was lukewarm now - but she swallowed it down and checked her appearance in the mirror; she may be in her early forties but she could still hold her own against young tarts like Irene and she had one other advantage; she was the landlady of the Royal Oak!
“Ask the girls age please Irene.” She called over as she served two rowdy sailors and their ‘lady friend’ who could easily pass as their mother – Kath looked again; ‘Christ, their grandmother!’ then laughed to herself.
“The old lady probably entertained their fathers during the last war.” She whispered to Irene who squealed with laughter; “The gorgeous young flyboy says the girl is 18 and does shift work at Arnold Packers, they’re having a quick drink before she goes home and he has to get back to the bloody war!”
Kath smiled at the pair, sitting staring at each other in the quiet corner and sighed; “What a bleedin’ time to fall in love; in the middle of a bloody war.”
Then another couple caught her eye as they approached the bar. She eased past Irene; “I’ll get this pair.”
“Hello Mr. Tibbs and it’s lovely to see you again Lady Alex, here to see Harry?” Kath motioned to the rear stairs and added; "He's up there; in front of the fire."
Jericho and Alex climbed the small attic stairs with a flickering oil lamp for guidance and Jericho knocked gently on the brightly painted door – though the paint was old and flaking.
A soft voice called for them to enter and Jericho pushed open the creaking door and they entered the poorly lit, but surprisingly warm little room. Alex could see flames in the fire place and the slight smell of Lavender pervaded the atmosphere. The voice had come from a high backed chair placed before the fire; she and Jericho slowly sat on the sofa opposite.
“Harry, I want you to meet Alexandra; one of my colleagues.” Jericho turned to Alex and smiled; “This is Harry Hadden – he’s been one of my agents here for more years than I wish to remember.” The old man managed a smile and leaned forward to shake Alex’s hand and she gripped it firmly; “Hello Harry, it’s nice to finally meet you.” She spoke quietly and knew that he had been a strapping, handsome young man in his prime, with a quick mind and was possibly, one of London’s finest Police Detectives. Jericho had always considered him one of his best human agents – him and his sister Dorothy.
Alex already knew that Jericho had spoken to Angel Margret about Harry joining the Temporal Detectives Department, after he completed his assignment here. But Jericho had remained silent about Dorothy and that puzzled Alex, considering how much he admired her skills. Still, the young woman's fate would become apparent when Jericho wished to reveal it.
There was a quiet knock and Kath appeared with a large tea tray; “I managed to get some bleedin’ biscuits Harry – the queue stretched down bleedin’ Garden Street – you would have thought they were waiting for flippin’ steak and not Crawford’s bloody custard creams!” They all thanked Kath who quickly returned to the bar – she had nearly a full house and Irene wasn’t the quickest barmaid in London.
Harry nibbled his biscuit and looked over his tea cup at Alex, but spoke to Jericho; “You should bring Alexandra here, back when the old King was on the throne [King Edward VII] I think she would love the East end of those days.”
Jericho smiled and nodded, turning to Alex; “Harry was one of the youngest Detective Inspectors ever, and that was in 1901. He and his sister Dorothy are my finest agents for the early 20th Century in England. You would love to meet Dorothy, I think you two would become very close friends.” Harry agreed with that and Alex poured him a refill – intrigued by the young woman that Jericho always spoke so highly of - Alex would have liked to hear more about her.
7. OPERATION "SHEPHERD."
But Jericho switched the conversation to the reason for their visit; “How’s operation ‘Shepherd’ going?” He asked Harry and settled back, sipping his tea.
Harry chuckled; “I love that name. Well, we must have rounded up at least a dozen or so in the last couple of days and Kath says we have nearly a full house again tonight.”
Jericho nodded; Operation ‘Shepherd’ had been set up to catch lost Souls – humans killed in the bombing who didn’t realise they had passed over, so quick and instant were their deaths. The Royal Oak pub had now become a portal for the Collectors seeking missing souls – and it was working; with the newly dead turning up to be greeted by their Collectors.
Jericho pointed out to Alex that the pub itself had been destroyed by enemy bombing and its occupants killed – including Harry, Kath, Irene and the young cellar boy; Paul. But now they were working for Angel Margret, who had resurrected the pub and its occupants for this little operation and the bewildered dead were turning up in growing numbers.
“Only the dead can see the pub and fellow dead people inside; the living just sees a derelict, burnt-out pub – destroyed by German bombs.” Jericho finished his tea and enjoyed another biscuit. Harry chuckled and said to Alex; “Never thought I’d finish my days being blown up by bloody German’s in my own bed!” They sat chatting about the ‘old days’ and Harry informed them about the latest sightings of the ‘apparition’, creeping about the dark and bloody streets of East London, probably on the prowl for vulnerable souls.
But here was another knock at the door and Kath pushed her head around and spoke to Harry; “I think you should know, that we have a nice young couple down stairs that’s seen the ‘Apparition’ and they know where the bugger is hiding out!” Harry gave the thumbs up and Jericho placed his tea cup down and nodded to Alex; “I think we’ll have a little chat with them before their Collector whips them away.”
Kath smiled and sighed; “Be gentle with ‘em Mr. Tibbs, they’re very young and they’ve fallen in love, bless ‘em.” Alex glanced at Jericho and saw the look upon his face; “It’s called romance Jericho, you should look it up.” She chuckled to herself, but Jericho just grunted and the pair said their farewell’s to Harry and returned to the bar with Kath, who pointed the love struck youngsters out.
Alex grinned and sighed loudly; “Oh yes, Jericho that young pair are in love,” The couple sat talking very close and holding hands below the little table. Alex noticed that Jericho had a strange smile upon his face, as they walked over and introduced themselves to the bewildered pair.
It was quite easy to convince the young Pilot that he was in fact; dead. Danny already had an inkling that something was dreadfully wrong – he knew that he could not have survived the crash onto that wasteland - never mind wander around the streets; but how come Jessica could see and touch him?
Alex explained to the pair that they were both in fact; dead. Alex consulted her mirror and told Danny how he died – when she stated the time had been one-thirty - he nodded and showed them his watch. “I sort of guessed that I had been killed; I couldn’t get the bloody canopy open to jump.” He swallowed his beer in one gulp and smiled at Jessica; “Sorry sweetheart.” Gripping her hand with both of his, the pair exchanged a really sad and haunting look.
Alex turned to Jessica, who had small tears running down her cheeks, and informed the girl that she had died the previous night, when her house had been struck by a bomb, killing her and her mother as they cowered in the small cellar. Somehow the pair had been missed by their Collector and both her and her mother’s soul was listed as missing.
“We can get a Collector to the address and save your mum’s soul before something terrible happens to it – especially with the ‘apparition’ stalking the streets.” Alex added and patted Jessica’s wet face, wiping away her falling tears.
“Can we stay together Mr. Tibbs?” Danny asked; “I mean we’re both now dead, can we stay with each other please?” Alex glanced at Jericho; she already knew that their souls would go to new, separate lives as directed by the Duty Death Angel. Jessica also pleaded with Mr. Tibbs to stay with Danny and Alex could feel she was getting a little emotional herself over the pair.
But Jericho pointed out that Jessica had died before Danny and so they should never have met; well, not whilst alive anyway! That’s when Alex drew Jericho’s attention to the bar and a young man being refused service by Kath; both Danny and Jessica asked about the strange glow he seemed to radiate. “He’s still alive and doesn’t realise he has the ability to see and speak to the dead. Kath has told him to leave and he’ll get a shock, if he looks back at the pub and see’s its true appearance.” Jericho said, watching the confused young man wander from the Royal Oak, totally unaware of the ‘supernatural’ experience he was just involved in.
The young pair sat desolate and heartbroken at Mr. Tibbs words.
Nevertheless, they both volunteered to show the temporal detectives where they had seen the ‘apparition’ and the little group left the pub, with Jericho and Alex saying goodbye to Kath and Irene. They watched as a couple of souls also departed – now with their Collectors.
When Alex looked back at the pub, as they walked towards Queen’s square, it had returned to its derelict and burnt out state. The remains of the Royal Oak would be demolished after the war and a new office building erected on the site – less than a century later -no-one would even remember that the pub stood there, never mind the people who lived and died in her.
“That’s the funny old man who was at the bus stop!” Danny exclaimed and Jessica nodded her agreement. George the Collector smiled and lifted his hat to Alex and spoke to Jericho; “Morning Mr. Tibbs, busy around here these days – I see you’ve caught up with a couple of lost ones.” He indicated to Danny and Jessica and added; “Their not in my book [Soul Ledger] but I called it in when I saw them at the bus stop. I’ve never seen a time with so many lost ones.” He then smiled again and shrugged his shoulders; “Well apart from that last world war.”
He waved goodbye and headed into the Royal Oak, whilst the little group made their way to St. Mungus Church. Danny was explaining to Jericho about the mirror and how it must have been bricked up in the wall; when the church was build back in the fifteen hundreds.
Jericho pulled his mirror from a pocket and looked the church up. He turned to Alex, who was in deep conversation with Jessica, and said softly; “Doc Underhill’s team dealt with the demon back in 1482 and the Guardian assigned to the case could only imprison the bugger in glass. The local human team managed to have the mirror bricked up in the Church wall. Why this wasn’t followed up is a mystery because Doc did file a report to the Demonic Ingresses Department; someone cocked up.” Jericho sighed and placed a call for a Duty Guardian to attend, but he also noticed that a copy of his request was forwarded to Angel Margret for information. Alex tapped his shoulder; “Why would Angel Margret be interested in minor demon ingress?”
Jericho admitted that he didn’t know and they reached the derelict church some minutes later – just in time for the sirens to start again, as German raiders began to appear overhead. Danny stuck up two fingers at the planes which made Jessica laugh and grip his arm. “Least the bastards can’t hurt us anymore.” He muttered, and then fell silent, staring at the figure waiting for them in the churchyard.
8. THE DEMON AND THE KNIGHT.
“I thought they would be like medieval knights with shining armour and swords!” Danny exclaimed; then grinned and shook Oscar’s outstretched hand and the little man held up his staff; "You can't go far wrong with the staff of Moses - ideal for most demons!"
“About the armour and swords, your thinking about a Knight of God - they dress up like that - sometimes!" Oscar indicated to himself with a wide grin, adding; "It can be bit of a surprise, I know, and can be bit of a bummer when it comes to romance; but apart from that it really doesn’t matter my friends.” He smiled at the pair and pulled a mirror from his jacket pocket and turned to Jericho; “Apparently the clean up was never completed and so this naughty little demon was left trapped in the mirror, until the bloody bombing pulled down the church wall and let Kasha out. She’s probably well pissed off after spending hundreds of human years stuck in a piece of glass!”
“Talk of the devil.” Muttered Alex and pointed to the crypt doorway as the figure emerged into the moonlight – it was the demon known as Kasha.
Jericho gripped Oscar by the arm and unsmiling, spoke quietly to the little man; "She's a First Tier Demon now Oscar!" Jericho now realised why she had only been quarantined all those years ago - a Guardian would not have the power to compel such an entity back to Hell; only a Knight of God possessed that strength and authority.
"I think an urgent call to Demon Ingress is required here." Alex whispered and pulled Danny and Jessica to one side - uncollected souls such as they, would be easy prey for such a demon - easy prey indeed. "Get them away from here Alex and do it now!" Jericho ordered and Alex obeyed without question, she pulled the mirror from her skirts pocket and flipped it open.
Alex, Danny and Jessica disappeared in an instant.
Oscar gripped his staff with both hands and whispered closely to Jericho; "You best get the fuck outa here Jericho; I'll hold her for long as I can. Now go!"
Jericho reluctantly agreed and pulled his own mirror from his coat pocket and flipped it open. But a stunning flash of light illuminated the old churchyard and both he and Oscar shielded their eyes, they could hear the snarling of the demon, as she also realised what just happened.
Jericho sighed loudly with utter relief and Oscar lifted his hat and wiped his brow; James, a Knight of God stood before them - sword in hand. He turned to the pair and smiled; "I suggest you two make yourself scarce. Margret certainly had your back on this one Jericho!"
As the pair disappeared, Jericho heard Oscar mutter; "Another little battle in the bloody war of good and evil." They appeared outside number 37 Kitchener Road or rather, what was left of the little house. Alex was standing amongst the rubble with Jessica - who was cuddling her mother with great relief and much love - and a certain Mr. Silas Copperbent; a very senior Time-Controller who was scribbling in a large red notebook. The old man looked up and smiled broadly at the pair and bowed a little. "Hello Jericho; been having a spot of bother with a pesky little demon have we?"
He nodded at Oscar, who raised his hat and then vanished - returning to his office; the Demon Ingress Department - to fill out his report for Angel Margret.
Jericho shook his hand and grinned; "The cavalry arrived, literally in the nick of time; thanks to Angel Margret." Alex gripped his arm and smiled; "Mr. Copperbent has told me of your plan and I would never have believed, that under that crusty exterior, you were an old romantic!"
Jericho rolled his eyes; but did smile. "I've been called many things over the years, but never that."
9. MR. JERICHO TIBBS; AN OLD ROMANTIC?
Silas tapped his notebook and pointed down the road; a gaggle of Rescue workers, soldiers, firemen and other assorted characters were heading towards them - followed by an ambulance which picked its way carefully over the torn and rubble strewn road.
"The local rescue centre has just realised, that they didn't search the last two remaining houses in Kitchener Road, due to the German bombers quick return and will do so now." He turned to Alex and gestured towards the souls of Miss Jessica Martin and her mother; Mrs. Helen Martin and added; "They will dig out these two alive from the rubble, not badly injured but they will require conveyance to hospital in the ambulance - which also contains a slightly injured young pilot, who was just pulled from his crashed plane some minutes ago after a spectacular and quite miraculous, crash landing!"
Old Silas chuckled to himself and wondered how Jericho had pulled this off with Angel Margret - but then, everyone knew the Angel had quite a soft spot for her favourite Temporal Detective Inspector.
The Angel had given her authority, for the minor changes to the current time-line, to take place. Miss Martin and her mother would both survive the war as would a certain young pilot. What happens when the pair meet up in the ambulance lay with themselves - the gift of freewill and all that!
Alex had explained to the young couple and Jessica's mother, that they would remember nothing about their time whilst dead and should they meet up again, neither would recognise the other. She also explained that Angel Margret had made the decision because the error lay with the Collections Department - the pair should have never met; but they did!
So it was decided to resurrect the pair and Jessica's mother [because Jessica was supposed to die with her in the basement of their house - together and allow the time-line to run with its new settings. All other deaths would remain on record. Danny would crash his plane, but survive, with Jessica and Helen being pulled from their house alive.
With everything explained, Alex said a quite emotional farewell to Jessica and the pair hugged tightly for a few minutes and suddenly Jessica and Helen were gone. From the basement of the collapsed house could be heard groans and little, strained shouts for help.
Mr. Silas Copperbent [still grinning broadly] took his farewell of the two Temporal Detectives and returned to the time-line control room; also to write up his report for Angel Margret.
Alex and Jericho watched as the rescue party set about freeing the two women from the ruins of their house - they worked with great joy and relief as a dedicated team and soon the pair were pulled from the debris - Jessica crying and swearing loudly; to be admonished by her mother, who hugged the girl constantly as they were placed into the ambulance.
The young pilot offered cigarettes all round and he and Jessica sat talking about their respective ordeals, as the ambulance man slowly closed the doors and headed for the cab.
None of the living humans could obviously see the pair of smiling Temporal Detectives, standing amongst the rubble and in particular Alex who was already reading her mirror. She sighed loudly and smiled broadly; "A smashing war time romance that resulted in a marriage that lasted for nearly forty eight years." Alex wiped a little tear away with her soft white hankie and gripped Jericho's arm; "They were so close, they both passed over within a few weeks of each other."
Jericho just nodded, but he did smile a little; "Best we get back to the lighthouse, Angel Margret will want a full report on this one - some one is in for an arse kicking over that bloody demon; she managed to steal 22 souls and they are not likely to be recovered."
The pair disappeared as the sirens started to wail; the night would bring more horror, fear and death to the battered streets of east London. The Collectors would be out in large numbers yet again.
Jericho and Alex walked slowly towards the grand door of the lighthouse, where Mr. Harris was waiting to take coats and hats. He also informed them that Mr. Wilson and young Owen had returned from their mission to Revolutionary America of 1775 - with a successful conclusion to the trip - and most importantly, the dinner guest had arrived; James, a Knight of God had accepted Jericho's invitation for supper and drinks.
"No doubt James will regale us with his heroic battle with the Demon and drain my bar of Vodka." Jericho muttered and held up both hands in mock despair; but he did notice the smile upon Alex's face at that announcement - he also smiled - but said nothing further.
EPILOGUE:
"This mission was particularly difficult for the Team; it was only part successful. The defeat of the Demon Kasha was necessary and was accomplished. But the unscheduled meeting between Jessica & Danny should never have happened. Angel Margret had to concede that the Collections Department was at fault. The changes to the human Time line was allowed to remain."
W.A.S.
Miss Jessica Martin should have died - aged sixteen - in the early German bombing of London's east end in 1940. But, somehow, her soul was overlooked or missed by the collector. She should never have met Danny Hart - who had also been killed on the same day - but she did. Angel Margret accepted that the error lay with the Collections Department and gave authority for the current time-line to alter a little. Jessica was to live until 1984, when she passed away due to complications of Type 1 Diabetes's. Her soul was collected correctly this time and processed.
Mrs. Helen Martin, Jessica's mother, should have died with her daughter in the bombing and was also overlooked by the Collector. She survived the war and re-married in 1948. She died in 1962 in a road traffic accident whilst on holiday in Blackpool. Her soul was collected correctly this time and processed.
Flight Officer Daniel 'Danny' Hart survived the war despite being shot down once more, He had also been overlooked by his Collector in the confusion of mass deaths. He and Jessica married in 1942 and remained together until her death. He died just two months after her passing - many said it was through total grief at losing Jessica. His soul was collected properly this time and processed.
Miss Mavis Richards - the bus conductress - apparently had some kind of premonition of her death that morning; she had hugged her mother and two younger brothers closely, before leaving for work that fateful morning - she never usually showed that sort of emotion. Her soul was collected and processed.
Kasha - the Demon - wasn't happy about being stuck in the mirror for nearly five hundred human years! - but she had made up for lost time by stealing 22 souls before James - a Knight of God - drove her back to her master; the Dark Prince. She's still around today; stealing souls and creating mischief for the armies of the BOSS.
Kenneth Michaels - the young Reserve Policeman - had only been in the police for a few months when he fell victim to a German bomb on that fateful day. The blast blinded him and he suffered major burns. He died in hospital some days later and the surgeon confided to his grieving mother, that death had been a 'blessed relief' for the young man. His soul was collected and processed.
Norman Gates - a Reserve Policeman had, died just hours after the bombing and his soul had wandered the streets until he was found by a passing collector. He had told the collector about the two other souls he had encountered; Jessica and Danny. His own soul was processed.
Mrs. Doris Kent - the mother searching for her missing son - didn't realise she was dead for some time, after being killed by the bomb that hit the small News & sweet shop, where her young son Clifford worked as a paper delivery boy. Clifford had also been killed there and his soul was collected. Doris's soul was collected as she left the Underground station, where she had encountered Jessica and Danny.
Miss Alice Pullman - London Ambulance Service - should never have been on duty that day, but had swapped with a colleague, who had just become a father and wanted to see his baby son. She was on her way to the station, when the bombing started and was killed trying to get into the Underground Station. After Doris had spoken to her, she followed the woman up the stairs and found the collector waiting. Her soul was processed.
Mrs. Irene Wilson - Barmaid at the Royal Oak - was killed by the bomb that had struck the pub. Like Kath and Harry, she had agreed to take part in 'Operation Shepherd' and she worked gathering souls together until late 1940, when her soul was finally collected and processed. Angel Margret thanked her personally before sending back into the human life cycle.
Mrs. Katherine Meadows; Land Lady of the Royal Oak and a human agent for Jericho Tibbs, had been killed in the bombing of the pub and like Irene and Harry had agreed to take part in 'Operation Shepherd', which had been set up by Jericho; with Angel Margret's approval and assistance. Her soul was finally collected and processed in early 1941. She now works as a Collector.
Harry Hadden - Owner of the Royal Oak had been a human agent for Jericho Tibbs for many years [with his sister Dorothy] and ran 'Operation Shepherd' for Jericho. His soul was finally collected in early 1941 and Angel Margret had no hesitation in assigning Harry to Team 7 as a Trainee Temporal Detective. He was to make Temporal Detective Inspector in just a short few human years - quicker than even Jericho had achieved! - He is now considered one of the finest Detectives the Department has.
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| "Stephen J. Williams." |
Copyright © 2011-2025 Stephen Williams. No reproduction of any part without permission.
