Skip to main content

LILIES OF GRANBURGH (DAY 4)

It was that time of the year and preparations were in full swing. School holidays were declared for three full days as the fair was coming to town. There would be food stalls of warm buns, ice-cream, treacle puddings, cupcakes and a host of quenchers like fruit punches and ginger ale. The children as well as the adults were mighty pleased with the new mayor who had organized this event and made this into a mini festival.

The new mayor of Granburgh, Mr. Fernsby had a ruddy complexion with pleasant manners to match. He was instantly popular with the townsfolk as he mingled with everyone and made small talk. His sprawling two-storey mansion had an aisle of Calla Lilies bordering the lawn and was flanked on the side by a crystal clear pond. The house had just got a fresh coat of paint before the family moved in and hordes of furniture and luggage were being hauled in by the movers. 

The town was bustling with people in anticipation for the 3-day fair and a vast ground had been rigged up with a giant Ferris wheel, a toy train ride, go-karting and a carousel with pegasus and unicorns. The mayor had gone through a lot of effort to bring joy into the hearts of people this Christmas. 

Eddie Fernsby, thirteen and all ‘grown-up’ was having his usual gruff phase. He sat sulking on the couch and refused to move.

He hated leaving behind his former neighborhood and good friends and moving to this rustic vicinity.The clattering and bumping and dragging noises outside annoyed him to bits. 

Mrs. Fernsby’s voice rang out through the vast house, “Watch out! Those contain my precious heirloom jewelry and gemstones.”

Eddie shook his head in frustration! When would these infernal noises come to an end! He saw an athletic looking young man tip his festive cap at her, mumbling an apology with a smirk. Eddie squinted his eyes at him when he walked back out and hesitated in the garden. 

He stood puffing smoke for a while near the lilies, sprinkling hot ash on them carelessly. Eddie had an urge to give him a piece of his mind. When he stormed outside, the man was squatting by the garden bed, tamping down the mud with gardener's gloves on.

Oh! A gardener too! 

Finally silence reigned supreme by sundown and they all gathered to have a quiet dinner brought in by the kind people of Granburgh.

***

As Eddie was about to turn the knob on his bedroom door, a vile screech rang out through the house again! 

Mom! He rolled his eyes….just when he heard another chaotic shuffle in the hallway. “Call the police right away! My jewelry box is missing. The movers have stolen it, I'm sure of it.”

There is not a moment of peace in this melee of a house! Eddie walked back downstairs to see his mother raving and pacing about! The police came in shortly after but fingerprint dusting didn't help as this house was a walking ground for many handymen these past couple of days. 

Mrs. Fernsby mourned the loss of her valuables all night. The next morning dawned bright bringing with it good cheer and it was the inaugural day of the fair. 

She dressed up and with a sullen look walked down the streets with Eddie to the town square. As they strolled past a jovial, thronging crowd, Eddie spotted the mover with the festive cap running a trinket stall. A few stalks of lilies stood in a tall glass of water adorning the counter.

“Hullo, mister! Remember me? You were at my house yesterday.”

“Ah! Yes..yes…” He looked preoccupied.

“Those tulips look just like the ones we have in our garden.” Eddie eyed him closely but the stall owner refused to make eye contact.

“I would like to buy the tulip stalks”, Eddie said in all earnest but the stall owner, getting agitated, refused him saying it was not for sale.

Eddie, not one to be pushed away so easily, stood his ground firmly and in a voice that stunned people nearby, bellowed, “How dare you refuse to sell your wares? Do you know I'm the Mayor's son! I will have you thrown out of this hamlet!”

Mrs. Fernsby rushed towards them and in all embarrassment was about to apologize when Eddie held up his hand and confidently told her that her jewelry box would be found in the garden bed of Calla Lilies! 

"And if we don't, we will trash him till he confesses." He pointed at the stall owner sternly.

And Eddie recounted the previous day's episode of how he had seen this man crouching near the flower bed. And that's not all! For a gardener, he didn't know the flowers were Calla Lilies and not Tulips! 

By now all the burly men in the hamlet had rounded up and held the stall owner in a stronghold. He was marched to the mansion and sure enough, Mrs. Fernsby’s box containing the heirlooms were found in the freshly dug soil from where a few bulbs of lilies had been uprooted!

He had planned on hiding it temporarily and retrieving it when things had cooled down.

*****

Eddie was hailed as the new hero of the town and was treated to cupcakes, pretzels, ginger ale and joy rides on the Ferris wheel for safeguarding their neighborhood from a thief. He looked at them with a new set of eyes and there was a promise of a new beginning this first Christmas at Granburgh.


©️ Sangeetha Kamath

Pic Courtesy: Image by Beverly Buckley from Pixabay

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

ABERCROMBIE LOCKE MANSION

This post is part of the Blogchatter A2Z Challenge 2026.                                                  CHAPTER 1        ABERCROMBIE LOCKE MANSION  The sky bled bruises of plum and cherry over the rolling hills. A full moon hung low against the mauve casting silver shards through the trees. The mansion made of cold greystone loomed large beyond the rusted iron gates. It grated on the gravel, rasping on the hinges and yawned open like a predator's jaw as Goldwynn booted it open with her foot. Her sneakers squished heavily on the mulch of dead leaves. Clutching her backpack, she looked up at the towering, grim structure forebodingly.  "Are you sure you want to do this?" her friend Lexi whispered, hesitating by the gate. "This mansion's totally cursed, they say." Lexi's voice was a thin thread. A chill crept up her back and she tight...

Moxie N' Mettle

                                MOXIE N' METTLE  In slivers and fragments as my sleep tiptoes, did I do right or wrong my heart needles… Some skies are born of black holes and tempest wreck,  There glitters not a ray of light, nor a speck When curtains turbid hold all light hostage,  Sandstorms, hailstorms, dust storms, snowstorms, windstorms assail and ravage Spanning my wings as a raging fire  Or as a mellow glow of a fairy light in the distant darkness, quite debonaire I'll ignite my spark from within like a star born into itself spurting lava Or explode leaving trails of cosmic dust like a Supernova I will be the Sun creating galaxies and many a constellation.  Or burn like a single flame of the candle to keep my hopes and dreams alive with determination! I will be at my own pace I will be whoever and whatever I want to be—in my own race Collapse, crash and crumble! But I'll...

RUTHLESS REVELATIONS (DAY 16, LETTER R)

                            CHAPTER 15                RUTHLESS REVELATIONS The Three Little Pigs stood triumphant in the whimsical cottage's living room, surrounded by mismatched furniture and waltzing dust motes. Baconne , Porkinn , and Swinedell grinned at each other, puffing out their chests like gangsters. Baconne swaggered closer to the makeshift bar. "You know," he said, stroking his shoulder, "the Big Bad Wolf wasn't so bad after all, was he?" His grin split wide, showing a gold-capped tooth. The pigs snorted, their belly laughs vibrating the chandeliers above. Swinedell poured three tiny glasses of wild truffle liqueur with a theatrical flourish. "Cheers to us!" he growled, hoisting a glass. "We wanted his posh cottage for ourselves. Wolfie mutt was just defending his pad." His eyes glinted like cheap jewels. Goldwynn's face paled. She stammered as she whispered, " Wha...

THE BIG BAD WOLF( DAY 17, LETTER T)

                          CHAPTER 16                    THE BIG BAD WOLF  The pigs snarled like proper rascals, fixing their cold steely eyes on the Wolf's cottage. How dare he refuse to part with his cottage! When the pigs demand, it's given to them---no questions asked! Porkinn limped, Baconne was soggy, Swinedell rubbed a sore bump on his head, but they were far from defeated. Swinedell snorted, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Wolf thinks 'e's posh, don't 'e? " Baconne sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring. "We want the cottage!” He growled. Porkinn cracked his fingers, his sly glance darting about.  The pigs crept towards the back door, their footsteps silent on the soft grass. They spotted the Wolf through the kitchen window, stirring a pot of steaming stew for dinner. They kicked the door in, the wood splintering jaggedly. The latch gave in....

ANAM CARA

The waves are soft and frothy. Laced with gossamer frills tenderly kissing the tips of my toes covered with the grainy sand of the rugged seashore where I'm sitting, wistful. A gust of briny breeze tousles my hair as I gaze as far as my eyes can see.  A flock of terns wheel overhead, their sharp, shrill cries punctuating the air as they dive and swoop over the surfs. A lone frigate bird , its crimson belly dazzling like a jewel skims majestically above, its long, slender wings outstretched as it rides the thermals high above the ocean. I absorb the sights and sounds of the late afternoon while absentmindedly scooping seashells beside me. As the afternoon phases, the furthest rim of the ocean is fringed in a gilded hem and the sleepy sun yawns, its dipping glow streaking the sky in a mellow tangerine and warm cherry. As I continue sitting there, the ships and yachts appear --specks of light from the portholes glimmering in the distance, reminding me of the phrase “That ship has sai...