NO SOONER HAD JENNY walked a few paces into the street when a strange feeling came upon her. She felt a chill spread from her feet right up to her head, and the noise from the city seem to lower to such an extent that it felt almost quiet. She glanced back at the street sign. Still it read, "THIS WAY".
"There's something strange about all this," said Jenny quietly to herself. "The weather seems to have instantly changed and it's as if I'm in an entirely different city."
The further she walked down the street, the more she noticed that the houses on either side seemed to be quite old-fashioned yet not particularly old. What did it mean? Every car she passed, though there were not too many, was coloured black and looked more fit for a museum than a city street. But at least they looked almost brand-new. Finally, she began to notice the odd person walking along the street, or pottering about in their front gardens. Their clothes were very old-fashioned.
"Have I gone through a time warp and travelled back in time?" murmured Jenny to herself, befuddled. "No, no, that's ridiculous. Let me think..." Jenny stroked her chin, deep in thought. "Ah," she said, raising her eyebrows. "I've got it now. This must be a street full of fanatics who like to live as people did in the old days. The street sort of reminds me of a London street from a Second World War film. Strange that the whole street would go along with this nonsense. Mum and Dad will never believe this. The houses, the cars and the clothes. What a palaver. Nutters, complete nutters. And I thought I was bad."
But then Jenny saw a sight that disconcerted her a little. She saw in the distance a gang of children just a few years younger than her charging down the street in her direction. She was disconcerted because they too were wearing old-fashioned clothes. The boys were wearing short trousers. Now she could imagine adults suffering from a stupid fanaticism—but kids like herself. Surely an impossibility.
"I'm going to put this online," she said, plucking her smartphone from her larger inside school uniform blazer pocket.
Jenny tapped on her smartphone and activated its camera. She wafted her smart phone slowly about in every direction getting a good all-round panoramic video of the street. And as the gang of about six or seven kids began to noisily reach her in their highly enthusiastic undisciplined charge, she steadied her smart phone on them and concentrated on getting a quality video.
Most of the kids swept right around her, as if she wasn't there, as if she was too boring. However, a boy and a girl quickly decelerated to a stop, having apparently taken an interest in her videoing.
"Oi, girly," said the boy. "Wot's that thingy in your hand? Why are you pointing it at us?"
"I'm just doing a video for the Internet," said Jenny.
The children looked at her, puzzled for a moment, before looking at each other.
"Are you from France?" said the girl. "You're either stark raving mad or your translating some of your words all wrong. What's a video? And what's the in-test-net when it's at home?"
"I'm not the one who's stark raving mad," snapped back Jenny. "You two and the rest of the people in this street are blooming bonkers. Were you paid to dress up in those old-fashioned clothes? And you," she said, turning her attention to the boy, "how on earth did anyone convince you to wear short trousers at your age?"
The boy and the girl were stunned into silence...but not for long.
"Ooh missus, 'ark at you with the posh royal blue school uniform," said the boy, with more than a hint of sarcasm, looking Jenny Sullivan up and down judgmentally.
"Cheeky trout," added the girl sternly, also giving Jenny the once over.
"Okay, girly, just tell us what that thing is in your hand," insisted the boy. "It looks like some sort of weapon. You're not from France, but I'll bet you're from Germany. Yeah, that's right. You're a spy, aren't you?"
"Don't be silly," said Jenny. "I'm just filming you and your street on my phone."
"What phone, Kraut lover?" said the girl. "That's not a phone. It doesn't even have a dialler on it."
"Yes it does," insisted Jenny. "You just tap out any numbers or call one up from the phone's address list."
"Come on, Sheila," said the boy. "Let's go and catch up with the others. This schoolgirl's cuckoo-doodle-doo."
"Yeah, she's off her rocker," added the girl, her face creasing up with laughter.
And with that, the boy and the girl charged off.
"Very strange..." murmured Jenny.
She quickened her stride, determined to get out of the street, hoping that she would find a street she recognised when she emerged out of it, a street that would quickly lead her to her school in time for her music practical exam.
The more she walked, the more confident she became that there must be a rational explanation for the street and its people. Her fear that she might have somehow walked through a time warp, slowly subsided. But she became angry because she realised she had been distracted again.
"I'm so easily distracted, you know," she called over to a tiny rough looking girl who was happily skipping on the other side of the road.
The girl appeared to ignore Jenny giving her only a cursory glance and she started chanting in time to her skipping:
All the men have gone to war,
I know not the reason for.
If bombs should fall
and I should die.
Tell my father.
Ask him why.
"Stranger and stranger," whispered Jenny, thinking that the little girl was using very harsh words for her age. Jenny remembered that when she was that age and skipped in the front yard, she only sang simple verses like:
D, O, N,
K, E, Y,
spells
Donkey.
Stranger and stranger, maybe. But for Jenny, things would soon get stranger still...
As she approached the end of a block of terraced houses. She noticed a fruit and vegetable store on the other side of the road on the end of its own block of terraced houses. She started to make out the name of the shop that was stencilled in huge gold letters on the shop's front windows.
She was shocked that the first four letters she quickly made out read "S", "U", "L", "L"... And sure enough, a few strides later, she read, "SULLIVAN'S".
"Gosh, my name!" gasped Jenny Sullivan, her eyebrows rising. "On all the days in all the streets, why has such a coincidence paid me a visit?"
Ogling keenly across the narrow street, through its wooden-framed windows and wooden-framed glass door, Jenny could see quite clearly into the shop ... It was well stocked with shelves of fruits and vegetables, and a stockily built woman was serving a handful of customers. All of them were dressed in Second World War fashioned clothes.
And outside, in front of the shop's main window, resting on some tables, were open wooden boxes full of fruits and vegetables, and also an old-fashioned mechanical shop till. The boxes were positioned at a slight slant so that their goods were clearly displayed. Attending the tables standing just to the side of the till was a happily smiling man ready to serve.
Jenny took one last glimpse at the shop as she continued to purposely stride ever onwards absolutely determined to maintain a semblance of concentration and finally complete her walk through the strange street.
However, she couldn't help thinking that there was definitely something odd about the shop. Really odd. And it wasn't just the fact that it was old-fashioned, or that her surname fronted the shop. There was something else ... Something most peculiar indeed ...
Suddenly, Jenny stopped in her tracks.
Her eyes opened wide.
Her face drained of blood.
Her heart missed a beat.
Goosebumps spread in a fast moving wave all over her skin, and her legs started to wobble.
"What, wait, could my mind be playing tricks on me?" whispered Jenny in a shuddering shaky voice.
But when she turned slowly and apprehensively to look back at the fruits and vegetables, she realised her mind was not playing tricks on her ...
"Oh my giddy aunt! The fruits and vegetables are all the wrong colours!"
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I hope you enjoyed this Chapter. I welcome any votes, comments or constructive criticisms (style, spelling, grammar and punctuation errors).
T. J. P. CAMPBELL.