Disclaimer: I acknowledge that Disney Fairies & associated content are owned by Walt Disney Company. I am not interested in profiting from this document. It is for the enjoyment of fans only.
Author's Note: Here's my 7th TBell story. Sorry, there isn't much of the fairies here, but it offers possible answers to a couple of questions from the end of TB3. I'm sure you'll be able to guess how it ends.
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Look, A Flying Girl! - Chapter 1 - Meet Lucas Pearson
"Where's my dress?" asked the middle-aged woman, her face nearly pressed to the glass of the Chelsea shop window. She peered past the window display into the gloom of the shop.
"I'm sure it's shown quite prominently inside." answered her husband, waiting on the pavement behind her.
"Why isn't it in the window?" she grew more annoyed. "I do better work than this one." she indicated the dress in the window. "Look at the puckers in the seam, and that style is at least 10 years old."
Lucas studied his pocket-watch. "We're going to be late, dear."
She turned from the shop window to resume her walk with him. "It's made with cheaper fabric, too. I'll need to speak with the shopkeeper."
"He might not want to sell your work if you yell at him." She didn't seem to hear him as she continued. He smiled at her prideful monologuing. Esther was an excellent seamstress when they had met, courted, and married decades ago. She had left the garment industry to raise their children, but after years of planning and saving, they'd purchased a treadle sewing machine which she had turned into a modestly profitable home business.
As Lucas had neared retirement age, he had been transferred from work in the rough East End of London, to the South Kensington area. A welcome move, as it brought them near their grandchildren. The streets of Chelsea were quiet as usual on this mild summer evening. His eyes scanned the traffic, pedestrians, and closed shops as they walked along. Some people were walking, taking the evening air, as a few of those annoying new motor carriages rolled past.
His attention was caught by something out of place; a roughly dressed young man loitering in the recessed entrance of a shop. He caught Esther's arm, saying "One moment, dear." With his wife at his back, he addressed the young man: "The shop is closed for the evening. Clear off.", and he pointed down the street.
The young man stepped forward with a sneer. "You a copper?"
"Constable Pearson of T Division." the older man responded, pulling out his service whistle. "I'll give you a 30-second lead."
"Sorry, guv." The young man turned from them and trotted off down the street.
"I'll be letting the local Sergeant know about him." Lucas said to Esther, as they continued their walk.
Ten minutes later, they were knocking on the door of their daughter's house. They clearly heard the thumping of small feet from inside, and the front door opened wide to reveal a boy of 11, and a girl of 7.
"They're here!" yelled the boy, jumping into Lucas' arms, as his sister reached for her hug from Esther.
"Well, aren't you going to invite them in?" asked a man in his 30s, from inside the house. The children dragged the couple over the threshold and into the front hallway, where they hung their light summer coats while everyone tried to talk at once. They were then escorted along the hall and into the dining room. The table was set for 6, and some of the meal items were already waiting.
"Might as well sit down." their son-in-law Bennet suggested. "Lorena is just helping the maid bring up the rest." They heard footsteps on the basement stairs, and moments later the last dishes were set on the table. Lorena took her place as the maid vanished. Grace was spoken, and their supper began.
When the meal was finished, Bennet opened the double-doors to the front drawing-room, and lit the gas lamps. Lucas and the children, Owen and Brenda, followed him. Esther and Lorena remained at the dining table, setting up their cribbage game as the maid cleared away the dishes.
Bennet settled into a chair near the dining room with his Sunday Times newspaper. Lucas suspected he chose that spot so he could also listen-in to the women's conversation. The children parked themselves on a couch with small plates of biscuits and cakes. They watched Lucas as he went to the fireplace, pulled a smoking pipe from a pocket, and scratched in the bowl with a small tool. He tapped the pipe on the side of the fireplace to dump the ashes, then seated himself in a large wing-back chair beside the children.
"I have a new story for you," Lucas addressed the children, "It's especially for Brenda, so I'd like her to sit near me."
"But this is my place." protested Owen. His outburst drew the attention of his father, who peered over the newspaper, wondering if intervention would be required. Most of Lucas' tales were based on true events of himself and fellow police constables; ripping stuff, to stir the blood of any boy. Owen always sat near his grandfather, feeling closer to the action.
"I think you can be gentleman enough to give your seat to a lady this evening, or..." he eyed them sternly, "...I could keep the story to myself." Owen begrudgingly swapped places with his sister, rather than miss out.
Lucas fumbled through pockets and pulled out a familiar small yellow tin, which he opened and placed in his lap. He took his time transferring pinches of tobacco into the pipe's bowl. The children knew better than to interrupt him, as it would only prolong their wait. He removed a wooden match from another pocket, using it to light the pipe.
"Do you remember that thunderstorm we had, earlier this week?" Lucas asked them, as he puffed clouds of fragrant smoke.
"It was scary." answered Brenda.
"No it wasn't." added Owen. "Were there thieves about?"
"Tut, tut." Lucas ignored the question. "I was on duty that evening." he began.
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Author's Post note:
I do not approve of smoking. I think it's a dirty & expensive habit. It just seems to fit the time, place, and character.
I was surprised to learn that even middle-class families had live-in servants. They never told us about that in history class! Many young women were employed in "service". It makes sense if you consider a large household with no electricity, coal fireplace heating in every room, limited running water, and probably no running hot water. I did piles of research for this little story, but only used a tenth of it. Oh well, now I know a little more about late-Victorian/Edwardian London.
Next - what happened to Constable Pearson that evening.
