Mrs Padstow’s Golden Chain

Mrs Padstow was very eccentric, everyone said. Some even called her dotty because every day they would see her in the street talking to herself and smiling and she would always carry about a long golden chain and, whenever anyone asked “What are you carrying about that long golden chain for, Mrs Padstow”, she would always answer, “Oh that’s just my little whirlwind”.

Still, none of her neighbours seemed to mind except that they worried for her that, walking about carrying something that looked so expensive, she was likely to be robbed and might get hurt.

But whenever they tried to warn the old lady she would always just smile and say, “Oh, no I’m quite safe. I’ve got my whirlwind, you see”.

Then, one day, a very unscrupulous man; a man known in criminal circles as Evil Eric saw Mrs Padstow walking down the high-street with her golden chain and decided that he would wait till there was no-one else about and then make a grab for it.

“That old lady is so doo-lally”, he thought, rubbing his hands together and grinning evilly, “That she’ll probably think the fairies pinched it”.

And so, the next morning, he waited for Mrs Padstow to leave her little terraced house in Marigold crescent and followed her stealthily along the street all the way to the park then, hiding behind a tree, watched as, sitting on a bench, she took out a brown paper bag and started to feed the park pigeons on bread crusts.

And, when he thought that there was no-one else around that’s when Evil Eric rushed up and grabbed hold of the chain.

“Give me that, you old bag”, he said to a startled Mrs Padstow as he tore the chain out of her hand, “Unless you want to get hurt”.

“Good gracious!”, exclaimed the old woman, unhappily, “What are you doing? Give me that back at once”.

Evil Eric just chuckled evilly when he heard the old woman’s protests but then, to his shock and surprise, he felt something very powerful pulling on the end of the chain and then suddenly the chain shot off like a rocket across the park, dragging a terrified and screaming Evil Eric with it.

And though he managed to grab on tightly to it with both his hands it took all of his strength just to keep hold of it as it pulled him through prickly hedges and wooden littler bins and then, finally, into the middle of a deep and slimy duck pond.

All soaked through and with a startled duck quacking on top of his head, Evil Eric let go of the chain.

And then, to his further amazement, Old Mrs Padstow, putting two fingers to her lips, made a long, loud whistle and the chain, flying through the air, brought itself back to her hand.

Now, wading through and climbing up out of the duck pond , Evil Eric removed the duck from his head and rubbing the egg sized bump underneath it, dazed and bewildered, asked, “What is that bloomin’ chain? It almost broke my neck”.

Mrs Padstow shook her old blue-rinsed head and tutted.

“It’s not a chain, silly man”, said the old lady, starting to stroke something in the air, “It’s a lead for my dog. My Whirlwind”.

Then, taking out a bag of peppermints from her pocket , she seemed to vanish one into the air like a conjuror but then Evil Eric heard a loud crunching sound and, suddenly, standing before him and glowing bright green was a gigantic dog, like a Mastiff, that was wagging its tail and looking at the old woman with adoring eyes.

“Whirlwind is a Cornish fairy dog, aren’t you whirlwind”, she said to the dog, “And he loves his peppermints”.

“Mmm…Mepperpints”, replied the dog in a happy, contented sort of growl.

All this was too much for Evil Eric who, beginning to think that, perhaps, now he was starting to go potty, ran screaming from the park and was never seen or heard of again.

“Oh, Whirlwind”, said Mrs Padstow, looking at the park through old witch’s eyes and seeing it all glow brightly and little fairies dart about the flower beds and the duck pond sprinkling golden dust, “If only people could see the magic in this world then they wouldn’t go about bothering poor old ladies”.

Then, because she was tired and had forgotten her bus-pass, the old woman made a whistle and gave a wink, which is fairy magic, and vanished home to have a nice cup of tea.