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    Just Alice
    Just Alice
    Just Alice
    Ebook208 pages1 hour

    Just Alice

    By David Vernon

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A tale with a twist is a tantalising read. Showcased here are thirty-three award-winning stories from Australian and international authors, all which have a neat little twist in the tail. See if you can guess the ending before reaching it. Written by new and established writers each story has been chosen for its unique contribution to Australian literature as judged by Antoinette Merrillees, Julia Robertson, Dr Rick Williams and David Vernon. Enjoy the journey!

    “I know what’s going on between you and Julie.”
    Despite the din of the restaurant, Tony had clearly heard what Diana had said. His knife dropped to his plate, and the fork, holding the juicy piece of steak so carefully cut from the T-bone, never made it to his mouth. Tony winced and slowly lowered the fork.
    — from 'A Ridge Too Bizarre' by Reg James.

    When she gets home, she finds him sitting on their bed, his head in his hands, his breath coming out in guttural groans.
    Arnold was still strung up by his neck from the rafters, his eyes open and bulging.
    “Bert,” She looks at him with concern. “Are you okay?”
    Eventually Bert looks up at her, struggling to speak through his revulsion. “What ... What have you done?”
    — from 'Murdering Arnold' by Jan Hayes

    “Twelve rolls of toilet paper?” I said. “You stole twelve rolls of toilet paper from our next door neighbour?”
    My wife Amanda's face wore a sort of hunted Game of Thrones look.
    “They were in that plastic wrapping they sell them in. The stuff it's impossible to get off. We didn't need so many but what could I do? Go ‘round his house looking for a knife?”
    — from 'Roll Play' by Doug Hamilton

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDavid Vernon
    Release dateAug 16, 2020
    ISBN9781005720490
    Just Alice
    Author

    David Vernon

    I am a freelance writer and editor. I am father of two boys. For the last few years I have focussed my writing interest on chronicling women and men’s experience of childbirth and promoting better support for pregnant women and their partners. Recently, for a change of pace, I am writing two Australian history books. In 2014 I was elected Chair of the ACT Writers Centre.In 2010 I established the Stringybark Short Story Awards to promote the short story as a literary form.

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      Book preview

      Just Alice - David Vernon

      Just Alice — thirty-three award-winning stories from the Stringybark Twisted Tales Award

      Edited by

      David Vernon

      Selected by Antoinette Merrillees, Julia Robertson, Dr Rick Williams and David Vernon

      Published by Stringybark Publishing

      PO Box 464, Hall, ACT 2618, Australia

      https://www.stringybarkstories.net

      http://www.stringybarkpublishing.com.au

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright: This collection, David Vernon, 2020

      Copyright: Individual stories, the authors, various.

      These stories are works of fiction and do not relate to anyone living or dead unless otherwise indicated.

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the editor, judges and the author of these stories.

      Contents

      Introduction

      Hidden Cause — Andrew Nest

      The Librarian — Sandi Parsons

      Encounter — Daniel Hedger

      Home Wrecker — Gordon McPherson

      Entente — H.L. Moore

      A Ridge Too Bizarre — Reg James

      Blood Moon — Kay Spencer

      The Swindle — Justine McGinnis

      The Falcon — Rita Willsher

      Murdering Arnold — Jan Hayes

      Crooked Corpse — Kay Spencer

      Roll Play — Doug Hamilton

      Drama at Customs — Alice Richardson

      Sit Tight — Alyssa Mackay

      The Handyman — Sharyn Swanepoel

      Dot’s Garden — Caro Derkenne

      Just Alice — Nicole Kelly

      Lemon Meringue Pie — Jana Haasbroek

      The Biggest Coward — Julie Davies

      The Inspection — Adam Scullin

      The Coward’s Medal — Bret Harris

      Secret Keeper — Annie McKay

      Muffin — Tina Morganella

      Mikey’s Amazing Career Option — J.S. Scholz

      One Last Time — Rob Nisbet

      Family Business — Joan Padgett

      Housemates — Stephen Knox

      A Whisper Between the Words — Andrew Nest

      The Voice on the Phone — Mary T D’Arcy

      The Dress — Linda Mueller

      The Storyteller — Gina Pinto

      Shiver — Dave Sonntag

      Gregory White's Unordinary Tuesday — Russell Westmoreland

      The Stringybark Twisted Tales Award 2020

      About the Judges

      Acknowledgements

      Other titles by David Vernon at Smashwords.com:

      Introduction

      — David Vernon

      Ever since I was a teenager and avidly read Roald Dahl’s adult short story collections — Over to You, Kiss Kiss, Switch Bitch and Someone Like You — I have taken delight in short stories that have a twist in the tail. There is something appealing about discovering that the author, in a battle of wits between writer and reader, has completely fooled me. It’s a battle of wits between the writer and the reader. Perhaps I am a masochist as I often lose.

      This book is the thirty-sixth anthology of short stories in its awards’ series published by Stringybark Publishing, and the third anthology we have published of tales with a twist. Our first twisted anthology, Tainted Innocence, sold out promptly to much acclaim. If you love tales with unexpected endings it is well worth reading in ebook form. Grab a copy from our website. www.stringybarkstories.net

      There is a tricky art in writing stories with a twist. The author has to provide enough misdirection that the reader doesn’t suspect the ending, but equally must not lie to the reader. To do so breaks the trust between author and reader, and makes the story absurd. As with all Stringybark competitions, we engaged four judges, who have keenly read through all 203 entries to bring you the very best thirty-three tales for your enjoyment.

      On behalf of the other judges, Antoinette Merrillees, Julia Robertson and Dr Rick Williams, and our sponsor, Stringybark Publishing, we hope you relish these thirty-three tales.

      Happy reading!

      David Vernon

      Judge and Editor

      Stringybark Stories

      Hidden Cause

      — Andrew Nest

      Simon Fairbourne … Age 35. The name and age of the job applicant drew the special attention of René, owner of New Life Music Bar. Surely not, he uttered. He scrolled down the screen and scrutinised other parts of the resumé: Qualifications: Bachelor of Arts … Work experience: Events Organiser … Halfway House Manager … Café Manager … Interests: rock climbing, tennis, bushwalking … René ran his hand down his thick beard.

      If it was the Simon Fairbourne, it was the son of a monster, the devil that had eventually led René to religion all those years ago. The image of the sadist flashed before René like a spectre – long hair, sandpaper sideburns and acne scars in pale sunken cheeks. A fighting machine. Toughest in school. Twice expelled. He’d bashed and hospitalised a boy for singing a tune for the first disqualification, got drunk on a flask of vodka and punched a hole through a staffroom window for the second. Basher was his nickname. Knuckles, knives and needles were his tools of trade; scars, tattoos and a heroin habit the results. Poor Diane Fairbourne, whom he’d got pregnant behind the school’s incinerator. Both just sixteen. Basher had fled any idea of parental responsibility into the job of standover man, then extortionist, kidnapper, torturer … Prison time was inevitable, and generational in the case of the thug’s patrilineal line.

      René stared at the picture-framed Jesus on his desk. Don’t jump to conclusions. The job seeker could simply be a different Simon Fairbourne. Besides, how could the nemesis from his youth have produced an offspring that was normal? René perused the remaining applications and pondered his decision. No one’s credentials stood out like those of Simon Fairbourne. The ring of his phone interrupted his thoughts.

      His main barman was sick again. A server was already taking a day off. René inspected the resumés a second time. Leaving the Fairbourne submission aside, he phoned the two next best applicants and arranged interviews.

      He then went through to the bar room. Chairs weren’t on tables; no one had swept from the previous night. He got to work. Unless he employed someone soon, he’d always be helping on the floor.

      That evening, the new singer he’d organised was a hit with the crowd. René’s regular patrons praised him: The world needs more of her gentle heart, said Bill. Andy raised his orange juice. Praise the Lord for your choice. Nigel suggested he introduce some gospel singing.

      René stayed late after the doors closed, the name Simon Fairbourne still on his mind. He did some online searching. A Simon Fairbourne was attached to an annual flower festival held by the city, which matched the applicant’s experience as Events Organiser. Another piece of information revealed that the halfway house where Simon had worked was one for former inmates.

      The next morning, René interviewed the two aspirants he’d selected for the managerial position. Neither of them left a strong impression. Had he given them a proper chance? Or did he really want to be finding out more about Simon Fairbourne for the job?

      He contacted Simon’s previous employers, who confirmed the job applicant’s work record and spoke highly of the man’s abilities. The information piqued René’s curiosity even more.

      Other work took priority. René organised the employees’ pay, took stock of his beverages and submitted an order to his supplier. He fixed a schedule with his new singer and spoke finance with his bank manager. When a staff member came to him complaining about his workload, René finally made the decision to call Simon.

      The man’s phone manner was polite. René set up an interview for the following day.

      Ten minutes before Simon was due, René stood and paced around the office. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. It was as though he was the one about to be interviewed. Would it really be the son of that brute? Would he be able to tell if it was him?

      A Simon Fairbourne to see you, said a staff member.

      René pressed down his beard and put on his tinted glasses. The man appeared. Immediately René saw the resemblance: the same strong, wiry build; the same acne scars in pale sunken cheeks, though not as remarkable; and the same eyes, but without the hint of a pugilist’s resolve. Not familiar was the short, neat haircut and formal attire, including a floral tie. They shook hands. Simon smiled broadly, maintaining eye contact.

      They sat. René gave an overview of the business, emphasising the bar’s reputation for live soft rock tunes with a predominantly Christian element. He then asked the candidate why he was attracted to the position.

      I’ve always liked service-oriented work, communicating with people, said Simon. I also like organising. At the halfway house, I enjoyed the challenge of helping former prisoners get their lives onto a better track. I encouraged a lot of them to find salvation through a church. There were some satisfying results …

      Simon’s friendly character, confidence and humility were evident. Could Diane really have done such a good job raising him? Should he probe into Simon’s family? Should he ask if he was a Christian? He normally wouldn’t; it wasn’t a pre-requisite. Maybe it would come out. He brought up the candidate’s rock climbing.

      I’ve been doing it since I was a teenager, said Simon.

      Do you have a reliable climbing partner?

      My dad actually.

      Your dad?

      Yes. He taught me.

      René pursued the line. What does your dad do?

      He’s a teacher.

      It sounds like the two of you are close.

      We are.

      And your mum? René clasped his thighs underneath the desk. This enquiry was hardly relevant. Simon’s hesitation reflected it.

      She’s a nurse.

      I see. Well, do you have any questions for me?

      Simon glanced at the cross of Jesus on the wall. About the Christian element, are you looking for a believer to fill the position?

      No, that’s not necessary. The main requirement is the ability to do the job. I respect people from all walks of life.

      I’m not religious, but it sounds like we both have a high regard for people.

      Simon’s openness was impressive, too. René concluded the interview.

      From his office window, he watched Simon cross the road after exiting the premises. A woman was waiting for him. They walked away hand in hand. What a wonderful mother Diane must have been. Bless her. But should he employ him or not? What would God want him to do? He prayed, and then made his decision.

      First thing the following morning, René phoned his preferred candidate. With a quiver in his voice, he made a generous proposal.

      There was a moment of silence before Simon responded: I appreciate that, René, but I’ve accepted another offer.

      Really? The suddenness of the rejection stunned René.

      He sat pensive after the brief exchange. An overwhelming sense of disappointment enveloped him. Such a fleeting moment, a reminder of reality, a reminder that repentance was a lifelong process. Then a tear came to his eye. No change of name from Ron Johnson to René Jansen, no ownership of an alcohol-free Christian bar or hirsute face that hid acne scars in pale sunken cheeks would ever hide from Him the sins of his past, especially the one he committed in bringing Simon Fairbourne into the world.

      Andrew Nest is an English teacher living in Melbourne, Australia. He leans towards the satirical in his writing but cannot ignore the straight serious, either. He is the opposite of prolific when it comes to output, honing the few stories he has written to the point where editing is a compulsive obsession. Alas, he will still fail to see what others see. Other pursuits that feed or have fed the written cause include world travel, running, hiking, language learning and family.

      The Librarian

      — Sandi Parsons

      The waiter delivers my spaghetti carbonara as Paul’s phone rings. He answers, and his expression changes. I know the outcome before he hangs up. I'm going to dine alone in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

      Fabulous.

      I make all the right motions. There will be another chance to catch up. In the meantime, I may as well enjoy my meal. I take a deep breath and pick up my fork when I notice a man two tables over waving wildly at me. I squint. Do I know him? He doesn’t look familiar. A glance at his companion reveals the answer. Mike is sitting at the same table; his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink.

      Awkward.

      Maybe it will be okay.

      Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

      I pick up my plate and make my way over. Before I can sit, the stranger thrusts out his hand. As I grasp it, he turns my wrist over, planting a kiss on the back of my hand.

      Steve.

      Wendy, I sling back as if we are playing a game of tennis.

      Couldn’t leave such a pretty young lady to eat alone. Not when you’re a friend of a friend. Steve gestures towards Mike, who raises his eyebrow at me in greeting. Does being work colleagues constitute friendship?

      Mike clears their empty plates to the side to make room.

      And how did a lovely lady like yourself end up all alone?

      My friend’s wife went into labour with their first child.

      I'm overjoyed that we don’t have to console you over a broken heart. Steve grins.

      I laugh a little, Lucky for you there's never been anything romantic between us. I'm not about to start a sob story.

      Lucky me, indeed. Because now I get the pleasure of your company. Steve nods and winks at me.

      Single?

      I nod.

      Fabulous, can you help a wingman out then? What are the chances you can organise a double date for us? Mike here has been raving about the librarian for months. He's got quite the crush. Give it to me straight. What are his chances?

      Interesting.

      Perhaps not so awkward after all.

      Mike, resting the knuckles of his left hand onto his cheek, slowly raises his middle finger. Steve smirks in response. Just saying, she’s all you've talked about for the last twelve months. You were even talking about her right before Wendy joined us.

      Not true, Mike protests. We talked about lots of things.

      Name one.

      The bushfires over east for a start. Which, by the way, we haven’t yet agreed on. Any rational person has to agree climate change is involved. And that I was programming a lesson and incorporating the clip of Wes Tank rapping Dr Seuss—

      Steve interrupts him, "So that you could collaborate on the lesson with your librarian. All roads

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