Oi! Who switched my Bluetooth on? she shouted to her two teenage sons.
Not me! No I didn’t! Came the swift replies.
I’ve told you not to mess with my phone! Don’t do it again. Shouting up the stairs seemed to be the way to communicate these days…
She popped her mobile phone in her handbag. Walked to the bus stop. Waited for the number 9 up to town.
As she stood at the stop her phone buzzed. Bluetooth again? A photo had been shared to her photo album. A picture of the cemetery. One word, “come” was superimposed on the image.
Those boys, she thought, always playing tricks. She found the sender and sent a ‘no’ gif with a tiny black kitten jumping up at a goldfish.
She got on the bus, wondering what they would do next. Buzz…
Same picture of the cemetery, ‘come now!’ the exclamation mark worried her. She sent back ‘why should I???’ this was getting silly.
It was when she was getting off the bus that she got the third Bluetooth picture. Now it was a hole dug in the grass next to a grave stone. The name carved on it was hers!
No way, she thought. The boys would not have done something so elaborate. She could have gone to the police, but her imagination had been piqued.
The cemetery was only down the road, it was broad daylight, there were always people there walking their dogs. Why not?
She felt the hairs on the back of her neck start to rise, but she put her nerves aside and walked into the cemetery lodge where they kept a list of all the people buried there. ‘Victoria Crewe’ was there. Headstone 121, west Chapel section of the graveyard.
She walked slowly among the headstones. Each one had the details of death, family and sometimes a poignant motto. As she reached the end of the row her phone buzzed again. This time the Bluetooth message was white letters on a dark blue background. ‘look in the hole’ it said.
Who was sending the messages? She thought they must be close or the message could not have been shared. But for once the cemetery appeared empty.
Then she saw the hole. Not in the grave area, but next to it. Next to the grave marked with her name. She looked down. There was a metal tin in it. Buzz… ‘yours’ was the writing on the screen.
She held her breath, wiped away the soil from the small tin and opened it.
Inside lay a gold rolex man’s watch. A warranty for it in her father’s name, and a letter from ‘aunty Vicky’ wishing him a very happy 21st birthday and explaining to him that she was sending him a gift of this very special watch. The letter was dated on the same day as Victoria had died!
