Summerween Chapter 3
Trick had made a pact he would eventually regret with the old lady next door. Mrs Crinkle had lost her husband to a bad heart and an even worse diet just before Christmas, and no one had seen that much of her since. She’d appeared on our doorstep that morning asking if my brother would mow her lawn, just like she did every year. He did of course, but the payment terms she offered were significantly more interesting to him than the usual renumeration of £1 and a packet of crisps, much to my chagrin, as I usually got the packet of crisps. Salt and shake crisps came with a little packet of salt and you had to shake them up yourself. The joy a sachet of salt would bring a child in the 80s is unfathomable today.
The thing with my big brother was – he was car-mad. We couldn’t have a family day out without him planning a detour to vintage car garages to see what was on offer. By this point, he’d already totalled 2 newer cars since passing his driving test and was building up the skills to not total his third, what would be vintage, car. He was working evening shifts in a restaurant and had no transport until he saved up for a new one. He was forced to rely on lifts off Mum, Dad, Nan and Grandad, just like a kid. Any other teenager would have found it demeaning, but he was always in good spirits and I’d join along for the ride. Mum wanted to just buy him a new car, but even he didn’t trust himself with one yet.
You see, he was remarkably sensible for someone who had crashed 2 cars in 4 months. Until Mrs Crinkle made him an offer he couldn’t refuse – to mow her lawn in exchange for her husband’s vintage car. Then him being sensible went out the window, and the car-mad vibes went into maximum overdrive. He planned to keep his restaurant job in order to support the extensive work the car would need. I was glad because restaurant talk was one of my main sources of town gossip, plus he liked talking to the famous footballers that frequented the place.
The car was an old red Triumph, and had seen better days, but it was still a lovely car. It was a shiny letterbox red colour, having got a thorough wash the moment it got into my brothers hands. He was like the Karate Kid, when Mr Miyagi gave him that big yellow car, except he hadn’t done anything close to the amount of work to deserve it.
We felt beyond mortal driving round with the windows wound down and the warm breeze on our faces, Cola in the back getting blown to bits, but happy regardless. The interior was rattly compared to the modern cars I was used to riding in, and there was a slight hint of damp. It was a convertible, but the top wouldn’t fold down, the mechanism was too stiff. That was just one of the things Trick was going to do to fix it up.
‘This is the original dashboard. See that?’ He tapped three times on the dash. ‘That’s solid wood, maybe rosewood, Dad says. I’m going to sand it back a bit and refinish it so it’s like new.’ He caressed the dash with a strange fondness alien to either of us kids.
‘It’s a car, not your girlfriend.’ I said.
He laughed off my disapproval. I would never understand his love of cars. I tapped one of the dials that was twitching like it was in the final throws of death. A creeping fungus had taken over some of them so you could barely see inside.
‘Some of those need replacing. It’s mostly cosmetic though. I need to take her to a mechanic, but she runs fine, don’t you think?’
‘Like a dream.’ I agreed. He grinned so hard a beam of joy radiated through the whole car. But Cola got us back on track.
‘So why did she give you this car?’ Cola asked. ‘Seems like a lot for just mowing her lawn.’ You could always rely on Cola to get to the point and put the pressure on. She had a sweet way of asking things, you’d never know about her edginess if you just met her. If I asked that question, people would think I was being bolshy. I guess people don’t expect little blonde girls to be troublemakers.
‘Isn’t it? I have no idea.’ He shrugged energetically at Cola in the mirror, taking both his hands off the wheel and veering towards the cliff edge slightly, before his sporty reaction time corrected it. I never did like being in a car that he was driving. ‘To say I was shocked when she offered it to me is an understatement.’ He shook his head, still in disbelief. He was more enthusiastic and grateful about presents than anyone I’d ever meet in my entire life, making me look like an absolute brat come Christmas morning. ‘I really don’t know why she didn’t sell it. But then, old lady like that, probably going to get ripped off by a garage and strangers coming to her home might be too much. She is pretty old.’
‘I don’t think Mrs Crinkle is someone people would mess with. She’s pretty tough.’ Cola interjected.
‘She’s changed in the last couple of months. We hardly see her anymore, which is why her decorating the garden is so odd.’ I added.
‘Yeah right?’ Trick agreed. ‘Maybe she just decided to get outside with the sunny weather, probably just an excuse to come get some fresh air. She did tell me it was for Summerween in a few weeks. She’s a nice old lady.’
‘I’ve never heard of Summerween before.’ I said.
‘Like halloween but in summer, to mark the official first day of summer or something.’ He explained. ‘I know, it’s weird, I hadn’t heard of it either, but I couldn’t say anything bad after her offering me the car. Well, it was Mr Crinkle’s car really. Do you know she said she never really liked it – can you believe that?’
‘Mrs Crinkle strikes me as the kind of person who doesn’t like much at all.’ I said. Mr and Mrs Crinkle were the type of people you rarely saw smile. I had mostly steered clear of them. I didn’t bother them, they didn’t bother me. I should have stuck to that tactic, but you live and learn. Well, some of us did.
‘She said Mr Crinkle used to like talking to me about the car and that wouldn’t be happening any more so it might as well go to someone who cares about it. Sad really, don’t you think?’
‘You should be happy not sad, you got a free car.’ Cola said.
‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m as happy as a dog with two… well, I’m happy about it. Just she seems to really miss him, you know? And it’s sad I won’t be able to talk to him about the car and ask him what parts are original. He did tell me he’d like to have seen it restored to it’s former glory, but he was too old to take that on.’
‘It’s good you’ve got it then isn’t it? No one else is going to love it as much as you. And Mr Crinkle knew that too.’ I said.
‘Yeah, I’ve just got to be careful I don’t crash this one.’ He pulled a crooked open mouth face that said he needed to be really careful.
He drove us along the coastal road, which wound around the craggy cliffs, down by the access road to the boardwalk, past the beach and up to the lighthouse just as you came into the town centre. The town was really just one Main Street, with a square off it you could only access on foot, so we sailed past it. It would have been dead anyway, as soon as the sun shone, everyone headed to the coast to watch the sun set.
Port Eventide was a small coastal town that had been an ancient market town, like so many in Britain. There was even an old cobble-stone town square surrounded by pubs and restaurants that had been there hundreds, if not thousands, of years. The buildings there looked like they could fall down with the slightest gust of wind, they leant inward towards the centre of the square as if it was calling to them. Most of the buildings around the square were higgledy-piggledy and built up on top of each other on two levels, with steps taking you up a level from the ground.
The Main Street had all the necessities for the 1980s – local radio station, independent shops and, of course, a video shop that served the whole town. You never needed to leave, it had it all. Including elements of the supernatural and pure evil, but I’ll get to that.
We had the radio cranked up and were singing at the top of our voices about delivering microwave ovens as we passed a group of teenagers, who air-guitared back to us in response. Trick waved at them out of the window. He knew all the kids, he was a friends-with-everyone type of person. He was well-liked and captain of both the football and rugby team – a first in Port Eventide High. He was also adept at marshal arts, cycling and and school work. There was nothing he couldn’t do and he set a high bar for me by the time I got to high school.
It was dark when we pulled into our road. It was deadly quiet and no one was around, other than Parker walking his dog. Street lights lit the way and Trick reduced his speed significantly to patiently drive at a respectable pace. He was too busy beaming out of the windscreen to notice the shadow of Mrs Crinkle lurking out on her lawn.
He carefully turned into our driveway, where dad had left the garage open for him to pull straight in. Just before we rolled into the garage, the radio station suddenly changed to a nostalgic 50s tune, causing Trick to be completely distracted messing with the dial so he missed the spooky events on Mrs Crinkle’s lawn.
Aghast, Cola and I watched as a bolt of lightning hit the ground right in front of Mrs Crinkle. It lit up her entire pentagram with a bright white and blue edged light that shone on her face, as she laughed maniacally. The light turned into flames and burned up all around her as Trick pulled into the garage, still twiddling the knob on the radio. ‘It’s jammed on this station.’ He said, frustrated and oblivious, bumping to a stop and just knocking the lawn mower enough to dent it. It crunched like a can of pop. ‘Whoops.’ He said.