Jason and the Corner Shop Mystery ….

7 Apr

Next up on the GSP Wee Folk Promo is next in the Jason series.


The abrasive love-hate between siblings eventually leads to trouble when Jason and his friend Wayne, go to the rescue of the owner of the corner shop. Unable to convince relatives and friends that Mr. Kashmir Singh is in danger, they decide to take things into their own hands. The result is a hair-raising chase round a deserted airfield in a stolen co-op hearse before the kidnap plot is foiled.


“Coo-eee, coo-eee.”
     Jason stopped what he was doing and on tip-toe peered over the neatly-clipped hedge to see who it was doing all the coo-eeing. He saw Tracy, his sister’s best friend racing down the street as if she was on some important mission. Jason waved, the girl smiled, slowed down and waved back.
Seconds later she was pushing open the gate, leaning on it and gasping for breath, at the same time as rubbing her side as if she had a stitch.
     “What’s all the racket about?” asked Jason watching her performance with interest.
     Tracy looked up. “Oh! It’s you,” she said sounding disappointed. “When I saw the ginger head peeping over the hedge I thought it was Alison.”
     “Well, it wasn’t, it was me.” Jason went back to what he’d been doing before he’d been interrupted.
     “Where is she?”
     “Gone and never coming back.” He wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “What do you want her for anyway?”
     “Something very very important,” she whispered mysteriously.
     “Tell me what it is, give us a sweet and I might tell you where to find her.”
     Jason knew Tracy was a softer touch that his sister. She often slipped him sweets without blackmail. All the same, he didn’t want to give information away too easily.
     “I can’t. It’s private. Anyway . . .” The girl paused. “What’re you doing?”
     “Holding a funeral,” Jason replied, putting his hands together and closing his eyes.
     “Who’s dead?”
     “My pet tarantula, he was squashed . . . by a trainer.”
     “You’re daft. For one, you haven’t got a tarantula. For two, there isn’t a grave.”
     Jason could see by the way Tracy looked at him, that she didn’t believe him.
     “Oh yes I have,” he said, turning to face her, head at an angle, eyes screwed up to keep out the sun. “It was a baby one I caught in our Gran’s outside lavvy. Its grave’s there beneath them crossed lollipop sticks,” he pointed toward a tiny mound of earth. “I buried it in one of my Dad’s empty fag packets.” Well it’s empty now, he thought, fingering the two cigarettes in his pocket he planned to throw away later.
     “If you’re not going to tell me where your sister is, will you give her a message for me?” Tracy stared at the crossed lollipop sticks.
     “I might, and then again, I might not. It just depends.”
     “On what?”
     “It just depends, that’s all.” No longer interested in why Tracy had called to see Alison, Jason spread out his arms and making the noise of an aeroplane, zoomed off ‘round the garden.

     For a few seconds, Tracy stood hands on hips watching him, then stooping down she began to pluck daisies from the lawn. These she laid gently on top of the tiny mound of earth. She was so wrapped up in what she was doing, Jason could tell she was unaware his sister was creeping up behind her.
     Tired of playing aeroplane, he crept forward and hid behind a bush so he could hear the girls talking.
     “What are you up to, Tracy Hicks?” his sister demanded.
     Tracy spun ‘round. “N-n-nuthing, nothing at all,” she stammered turning a bright scarlet.
     “Yes you are, and I can always tell when you’re lying, because your ears turn bright red.”
     “No they don’t.” Tracy’s hands shot to her ears.
     “Yes, they do. Anyway, what are we doing standing here arguing when we could be out looking for them lads?”
     “Well, just between you and me,” Tracy whispered, “it’s about the lads I called ‘round to see you.”
     “Go on ,then I’m listening, what about the lads?” Alison fished in her bright red handbag, as if nothing Tracy might have to say was of importance.
     “I’ve just seen them, that tall fair-haired lad and his pal. They were in St. John Ambulance uniforms.” A little smile played ‘round her lips, as if she was waiting for the tid-bit of information to sink in.
     Alison stopped ferreting in her handbag as suddenly as she had started. “Well, go on then,” she said.
     “That’s it. They were in St. John Ambulance uniforms.”
     For a few seconds Alison stared vacantly skyward, while Tracy beamed down on her like a giraffe.
     Jason stayed hidden, he realised that he knew the fair-haired boy they were talking about. He was thirteen, a year older than either of them, and ever since he’d moved into the area, they’d both had their eyes on him. They made endless trips to McDonalds on the off chance of bumping into him. It seemed they had no idea where he lived or what school he went to; Jason knew and he wasn’t about to tell them.
     “If you’re thinking what I’m thinking—” Alison sounded excited. “Then for once I agree with you, Trace. Come on, let’s see if we can join.”

About the author:

Violetta Antcliff has been a member of the Nottingham Writers’ Club for the best part of Twenty years. She is the winner of numerous short story competitions and was area short listed in Waterstone’s WOW factor story competition. She took first prize in Nottingham short story competition with a story called Irish Mouse Tales and has read her poetry and short stories on local radio.

Links: http://www.gypsyshadow.com/Violetta.html#Jason



One Response to “Jason and the Corner Shop Mystery ….”

  1. chalaedra April 7, 2013 at 10:20 pm #

    Reblogged this on Chalaedra's Weblog and commented:

    Jason and Wayne are best friends, and what are best friends for? Getting into and out of trouble together! Jason and The Corner Shop Mystery, Adventures of Jason Foster by Violetta Antcliff. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at: http://www.gypsyshadow.com/Violetta.html#Jason

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