The Punch Case

Miss Prim’s week was not going well. To start with, on Monday, the Dinsworth twins had bitten another teacher. Then on Tuesday her car refused to start outside Greypool primary school, and by Wednesday her caseload had reached an all time high. Every cup of tea was cold by the time she drank it and all she wanted was a few precious moments to herself. So when Mrs Truegood, her garlic and chickpea scented supervisor, called her in on Thursday morning with another new case, Miss Prim felt nothing but despair.

“The red and white place near the seafront,” Mrs Truegood said as she chewed noisily on a dried apple crisp. “I’m worried about the new baby. I’m sure you’ve heard of the husband. One of those types, you know the sort. Anyway, I want you to take a look. Check everything’s okay.”

Miss Prim attempted to stifle a sigh. “Shouldn’t I be visiting the Dinsworth twins today? You heard what happened on Monday?”

“I’m well aware of the Dinsworth situation,” said Mrs Truegood tugging at a piece of fluff on her cardigan, “but this one takes priority. The Punch family. Mr and Mrs Punch. It won’t take you long.”

Judy Punch, her husband, and their new baby, lived in a red and white dwelling by the seafront. It was an old wooden structure, nestled on the promenade between the battered helter-skelter and the faded candy floss stall. The place had been there for as long as Miss Prim could remember, though she had never gone anywhere near it herself. Something about it gave her the chills. The peeling paint, the strangely shaped little roof and striped exterior. It was like something from another time and she could never understand how it was still standing. ‘Poor old Judy’ she thought as she approached on that grey Thursday morning.

Despite the inclement weather, the red and white structure was surrounded by a small crowd of children. Some sat cross-legged at the front with sticky fingers and wide eyes, while the bigger ones, pretending they were too old to be there, but there all the same, stood at the back, grins etched on their faces.

Miss Prim took a large breath and cleared her throat. “Excuse me please. I need to get through.” She squeezed between the unyielding children, making her way to the residence of Mr and Mrs Punch. A sense of dread washed over her as the waves beat down on the shoreline and Miss Prim felt that visiting the terrible Dinsworth twins would certainly have been preferable.

“That’s the way to do it!” A shriek as Miss Prim arrived.

The children laughed. Some of the younger ones were unsure, hiding behind candy floss and sticks of rock. A small boy in shorts with grubby knees stood up and pointed. “It’s Mr Punch!” he shouted gleefully. An older girl with pig-tails pushed him back down, the flat of her hand on top of his head. Mr Punch was here and the gathering of children waited in anticipation to be entertained.

Inside, the scene was chaotic. A striped curtain twitched, revealing a small room decorated in garish reds and yellows. Mr Punch dominated centre stage. Absurd and grotesque with his hunched back, gigantic hooked nose and impossibly wide grin that reached his ears. He watched intently as Miss Prim, her heels clicking across the wooden floor, moved towards Judy who was sitting slumped in a rocking chair, clutching a bundle of new baby.

“Mrs Punch? Judy? How are you and the baby?” Miss Prim spoke carefully, sensing an unease between the couple.

Judy looked up. Her eyes were wide and dark-ringed, her skin dull and pale but lips painted oddly crimson. “I think he’s okay,” she whispered, “I don’t want to wake him. The dog was barking all night and neither of us got much sleep.”

“It’s not easy having a pet around with a new baby,” said Miss Prim trying to catch a glimpse of the swaddled child. “Maybe someone could look after the dog for you for a while?”

Before Judy could answer, Mr Punch sprang forward, waving a wooden stick.

“Well, what do we have here then?” He turned towards the crowd of children. “It’s the nice lady from the council, trying to get rid of my Toby dog!”

“Boo!” shouted some of the older children. The younger ones at the front eyed each other cautiously.

Miss Prim held up her identification card. “I’m just here to check on the welfare of…”

“Welfare!” Mr Punch cackled. “Well, well, well-fare! Did you hear that everyone? She wants to see the baby? We have a lot of fun with the baby, don't we boys and girls?! We can do better than that though. We can introduce him to gravity!”

The children nodded in unison, unsure of what they were agreeing with.

“Now then Judy, you know what we need to do. We need to entertain these kids, their mums and dads have paid good money for this!” He stepped towards Judy, his huge nose a hair's breadth from her pale face. “Come on Judy. Throw the baby down the stairs!”

Judy let out a cry. “No Mr Punch! I can’t do that!”

The bundle on her lap twitched followed by a small cry of protest.

“Throw the baby down the stairs Judy!” Mr Punch stooped down, trying to drag her out of the chair. “The children want to see! See the bouncing baby!” He jumped and cackled, spinning on the spot.

“Throw the baby down the stairs!” shouted one of the older girls as she chewed her gum.

“Yeah!” said the boy next to her, needling the girl in the ribs with his elbow, “throw the baby down the stairs!”

Mr Punch grinned, his chin almost touching his hideous nose. Judy shrank back in her chair. The baby whimpered.

Miss Prim sensed the danger unfurling before her. ‘How can they possibly think of throwing the baby…’ Then, in the corner of her eye she saw something lurking on the far side of the room. Green and dark, oozing a stench of murky pools. ‘That can’t be what I think it is…’

“I really must insist,” she said, putting on her bravest, most professional voice. “This isn’t a safe environment.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Is that really a crocodile over there?”

The children laughed. “Crocodile!” shouted a girl in a blue dress, clapping her hands like a giant set of jaws.

Miss Prim was right. Something green and leathery lurked by the sideboard, its yellow eyes blinking lazily. Its jaw snapped as it shuffled from its hiding place.

“It’s the baby’s pet!” Mr Punch shrieked. “Cue crocodile. Cue chaos. Cue the lady losing her mind!”

The children screamed - some with laughter, others in tangible fear. One small boy, fled, sobbing, clutching his teddy bear.

Miss Prim had taken her notebook from her bag and was hastily making notes, barking, throwing the baby, a crocodile… Then suddenly, a small brown and white dog bounded into view. He circled around Miss Prim’s ankles, whipping her with his swishing tail. He had a peculiar ruff around his neck and something dangling from his mouth.

“Toby!” Judy gasped. “Not again!”

Mr Punch spun around, waving his stick at the bounding canine. “The sausages!”

Toby’s eyes gleamed with mischief as the string of sausages trailed behind him like a pink meaty tail.

The children roared with laughter.

“Get back here!” Mr Punch screeched. “A sausage a day keeps meddling ladies away.”

“Oh dear,” sighed Judy from her chair, the crocodile pacing around her, prodding determinedly at the baby with his predatory green nostrils. “The sausages were for the baby’s dinner. Now what will I do?”

Miss Prim frowned. “I really don’t think sausages are appropriate for a new born baby Judy. Milk would be much better.” She scribbled sausages in her notebook.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” Mr Punch skipped over, his hideous hump not seeming to inhibit his motion. As the sausages were quite evidently lost, his attention was now on the notebook. He snatched it from Miss Prim before she’d realised his intention.

There was an “Ooooh!” from the children.

One of the bigger boys shouted. “You show her Mr Punch!”

Miss Prim had met some foul men, and women too in her job. She was used to dealing with difficult situations, but she knew this one was beginning to get out of control. ‘I need to get the baby out of here to safety’ she thought. She eyed the crocodile as Judy pulled her bundle closer, away from its grating jaws.

Mr Punch was leafing through the pages of the notebook. “Proper little interfering busy-body aren’t you. You must have a badge! No badge, no biscuits. No biscuits, no sausages!” He turned to Miss Prim, his dreadful red chin and nose blazing with rage. “You think you can come here and tell us what to do? That’s very, very naughty isn’t it children!”

Miss Prim blinked. “Of course not. But no child should be living with a crocodile. It’s not safe.”

“You’ve come to take the baby away!” Mr Punch turned to the crowd, spinning on his heels. “Did you hear that children? This interfering so-and-so from ‘the department of meddling in what doesn’t concern them’, wants to take mine and Judy’s baby away!”

“Boooo!” shouted the children.

“Naughty lady,” shouted a little boy with red hair and a runny nose.

The mood suddenly darkened. The sky fell greyer. The waves roared. The children shuffled and twitched.

Miss Prim straightened in the most professional manner she could conjure, even though her knees were feeling weak and there was a small bead of sweat forming on her brow. “This is not a suitable home. Judy, please come with me. Please, bring the baby.”

Judy didn’t move. Her red lips trembled against her stark white face. “You don’t understand,” she said. “You’ll never understand.”

“Oh, she understands,” said Mr Punch, his grin widening. “She’s one of those educated types. Come to ruin all our fun and spoil the show. We don’t want that now do we, children?”

A murmur rippled through the gathering of children. A few in the front row shrunk back, unsure of what was to come. Some called out for their parents. But most leaned in closer, their faces wide and full of expectation.

“She’s the baddie,” one whispered nervously.

“The nasty lady,” another muttered with a sneer. “She wants to take the baby.”

“I’m here to help,” Miss Prim turned to the children, her hands outstretched, “really, I am…”

But the children didn’t listen. They began to chant. Softly at first, but then rising to a chilling crescendo. “Hang her, hang her, hang her…”

And then the atmosphere shifted again and Miss Prim felt a new presence. Heavy footsteps creaked behind her, and she shuddered at the sound of something being dragged across the floor.

“He’s behind you!” screamed the children excitedly, eyes wide, pointing.

Miss Prim froze, staring out in horror at the sea of feverish children.

“Oh no he isn’t,” grinned Mr Punch, dancing a peculiar little jig. “That's just the devil! He’s coming for tea!”.

“Oh yes he is!” came the increasingly frenzied, gleeful chorus.

A nauseous wave churned from the pits of Miss Prim’s stomach. Her hands trembled as she clutched her bag and turned around.

The Hangman had arrived. Dressed in black and imposingly tall, his face deathly white beneath a tri-cornered hat. A noose dangled from one hand, the rope trailing like a dead snake behind him. He loomed silently, his shadow filling the scene.

Miss Prim backed away, every part of her filled with terror. “This is ridiculous. This can’t be real.” All her training and experience hadn’t prepared her for any situation like this. She resorted to all she could think of. “Help! Somebody help me! Please help!”

As the children giggled at the fate of the nasty lady, a new character appeared from the wings.

“Now then, now then, what have we here?” The policeman entered, swinging his truncheon. “Good morning Miss,” he said cheerily. “What seems to be the trouble here?”

“She’s got a problem with my family!” Mr Punch roared before Miss Prim could open her mouth.

“Is that so?” The policeman turned to Miss Prim, his eyebrows raised. “Well, we don’t like busy-bodies around here.”

“She wants to take me and the baby away,” Judy whispered from her chair. “But we belong here.”

“The baby belongs here!” chanted the crowd of children, encouraged on by Mr Punch as he conducted them like a macabre orchestra.

Miss Prim stumbled back. “No! I’m just trying to help! Judy, listen to me… it’s dangerous here!”

“That’s the way to do it!” screamed Mr Punch, bringing down his stick.

Miss Prim flinched and tumbled to the floor. But there was no pain. Only the sound of clapping. The children were cheering, yelling, whooping.

A little boy pointed at her, his blue eyes full of menace. “The lady’s no fun.”

“She ruined the show,” shouted another, arms waving.

“Hang her!” they yelled in dreadful unison. “Hang her!”

The Hangman silently stepped forward, rope raised.

“That’s the way to do it!” squealed Mr Punch with delight.

***

Miss Prim woke with a scream, tangled in sweat soaked sheets. Her heart thundered against her chest, the bed shaking. Through the darkness, she glanced around her room as her ragged breathing began to gradually subside. ‘It was all just a dream. A terrible, terrible dream.’

With trembling hands, Miss Prim reached for the glass of water on her bedside table. Through the curtains, the moonlight cast long shadows across the room, stretching towards the chair in the corner where her old teddy bears and dolls sat. All shiny button eyes and smooth porcelain limbs.

Among them was a figure in red.

Small and hunched. A painted grin, far too wide.

Mr Punch.

He winked.

“He’s behind you,” he said.