5. THE ODD MAN IN THE PARK

The girls who found the body go to the park

It was the day after the post mortem examination in which it was concluded by Dr Niven that the unknown women (who looked remarkably like the photo of Professor Styx’s wife) had died as a result of drowning.

Sarah and Jane met as arranged (nothing odd there because they met almost every day), and as the weather had taken a down-turn, with clouds and the promise of showers according to the television forecast, they had discarded summer dresses for jeans and tee-shirts. Not by coordinated design, but it was the way it happened just like most things happened in spooky tandem with the two girls and their apparel.

“I’m not going anywhere near the canal,” said Sarah, shaking her head.

“Me neither!” Jane was emphatic. Finding a nearly naked dead woman had been enough for the two girls in much the same way as it would be quite enough for anyone.

So they took themselves to the park, the second in their mutually understood list of places to go during the summer holidays. There was apparatus there, swings and the like. Years ago, when they’d been a great deal younger than the twelve they were, they’d played on them, but now, at an age that was too advanced for such frivolity, they just hung around them and occasionally sat on a swing, not to play but to sit.

“I don’t want to see that ever again like yesterday,” began Sarah.

“You mean the dead woman? Neither do I! But it’s not likely, is it? I mean, not so many people die in the open, do they? They usually die in hospitals or in beds at home, don’t they?” replied Jane uncertainly.

“I suppose so,” agreed Sarah, “when my granny died it was in her home. She was sick for ages and I was kept away because mum thought it best. I’d have liked to say something, though...”

“To your mum?” asked Jane.

Sarah shook her head. “No,” she said wistfully, “to Granny Jones. She was a nice old stick, as my dad always said because she was mum’s mum. And she was kind to me when things went wrong. I’d have liked to have said stuff to her before, you know, before...”

“I reckon I know what you mean,” acknowledged Jane, not really understanding.

Both girls felt relieved when something really odd happened. It was so odd that Sarah gave a little squeal and Jane giggled.

A stranger walked slowly and hesitantly into the park.

“Look at that bloke, over there!” hissed Sarah.

“I know. I can see him!” Jane couldn’t keep the giggle out of her voice, then: “he’s wearing lady’s knickers and no trousers!”

“And nearly bursting out of them.” laughed Sarah. “Come on, let’s ask him what he’s doing!”

“I wouldn’t dare! He might be one of those men who hurt kids. A pedo-whatsit.”

“There’s two of us and he looks … looks like he’s lost,” urged Sarah.

And he did look as if he was lost. From the distance he looked to be elderly, probably in his sixties, though neither girl was good at judging ages even in youngsters let alone in adults. He stood not so far from the park gates and looked around him, slowly in every direction. And he looked most peculiar. He was wearing a shirt and waistcoat above the waist and a pair of obviously ladies knickers on the bottom, and with the exception of shoes, nothing else. The shirt had a white collar that even at a distance looked grubby and the waistcoat was buttoned up wrongly so that it was askew. All in all he looked lost and confused rather than dangerous.

The two girls, rather nervously and without making their movements too obvious, edged across the grass and away from the swings towards him

“Hey mister!” called Jane when they were within hearing distance of him, “where’s your trousers?”

At first the man took no notice of them, then slowly he faced them, his face neither threatening nor angry, but confused.

“Mamma,” he said, “My mamma...”.

Both girls got the feeling that he might be talking to them though it was equally clear that no man would refer to a pre-teenage girl as his mamma. It was ridiculous.

“This is almost as bad as the drowned woman,” muttered Sarah, “I’m nobody‘s mamma!”

“Nothing’s as bad as that!” Jane told her, “and look at him. He’s old and he’s lost and doesn’t know a girl from his mother! I should think he’s harmless and wandered away from a home or something, somewhere that old people get looked after.”

“Or he may be a mad axe-murderer who knows how to look dippy,” suggested Sarah.

“No,” sad Jane, convinced. “He’s old and weak and he’s lost. He needs someone to help him.”

They were about to approach the stranger y edging a little closer and maybe offer to help him when a voice rang out from the gate behind the man.

“Girls! Stay where you are!”

They could see quite plainly that it was the policeman who been at the canal yesterday, the rather friendly and human sergeant Stone, and he was approaching the oddly attired stranger with a doubtful expression on his face.

“He just came in the park. He seems lost,” contributed Sarah.

“It wasn’t that I was thinking about,” muttered the sergeant, “but attractive young ladies like you should be careful who you approach, especially if they’re dressed in ladies underwear and not much else on their legs.”

“He said I was his mamma,” giggled Jane.

“Let me see,” said the police sergeant, “Hey, sir,” he addressed the oddly dressed stranger.

And that man turned towards the sergeant and smiled broadly at him.

“Mamma! Dadda!” he gurgled, “Mamma, my mamma!”

“Where are your clothes?” asked sergeant Stone, at a loss as to how to respond to such an unusual greeting, “and what are you doing here, attracting young girls to you? Are you ill? Or maybe up to no good?””

And as a reply the man carefully and rather sedately collapsed to the ground and sighed at he muttered “Ruby sleepies...” as if he was the youngest of children who had suddenly become unaccountably tired.

And as he lay on the ground he curled up, closed his eyes and gave every impression that for no apparent reason he had fallen to sleep because that’s what he needed to do.

© Peter Rogerson 15.09.19