Strange Tales

The Miser

“These accounts are one penny out!” exclaimed The Miser, his scrawny hands grasping wildly at imaginary money bags. Anderson stood aloofly, towering above his master looking down inscrutably at his bald head clad in a fading headscarf. The Miser was Sir Anthony Pernickety, one of Liverpool’s wealthiest citizens and Anderson his factotum and general dogsbody.

“Look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves,” added The Miser. “Find that penny!” “You’re standing on it, “ said Anderson, looking haughtily at The Miser’s feet. There it was, half concealed under an expensive but shabby slipper. The Miser humphed then bent down awkwardly and picked up the coin, biting it and putting it in his pocket.

“It shouldn’t be there but in the accounts,” he said grudgingly. With that parting shot he retreated to his counting house where Anderson shortly heard the tinkling of money being counted. “He should know I rarely make mistakes,” thought Anderson.

The house was furnished with fine pictures on the walls, crystal chandeliers in the hall and elaborate antique furniture in every room. Anderson mused that his employer was right about counting the pennies but wrong about the pounds looking after themselves. “I do thatwith him looking over my shoulder,” he told himself.

He said as much to housekeeper Mrs Sieve, another long-suffering member of The Miser’s staff. She had just come in from her weekly dancing lesson

by Anton Valdemart

with Gaye Abandon, the local can-can teacher. It was one of the few breaks she could take away from the scrutiny of The Miser. “One day his miserable world will come crashing down on his head,” said Mrs Sieve.

As well as caring for his pennies, The Miser bought and sold pictures regularly. One of the reasons he employed Anderson was because he was tall and could hang pictures easily, often without a ladder. “I want you to take that one down,” The Miser told him one morning, indicating a painting of a man hunched over his desk in a gloomy study, coins strewn on his desk. “Can’t understand why that appealed to me in the first place.” Anderson smiled.

The buyer – an art collector called Hercules Baggscame round the following day to make payment and collect his purchase. Anderson observed the visitor carefully. He had gimlet eyes and grasping hands just like The Miser. “I want to pay in pennies,” said Hercules, indicating a large Gladstone bag. The Miser’s eyes lit up as Anderson counted the coins carefully. “All correct,” he said.

“Put them on top of the wardrobe with the rest,” said The Miser after Hercules had departed with the picture under his arm. Anderson and Mrs Sieve later thought it was a fitting end. The Miser was crushed by the enormous amount of money cascading on to his head when he opened the wardrobe. “I’ve counted every penny and it’s all there,” Anderson told Mrs Sieve at the funeral.

read my next Strange Tale in the Link: Ghostly Garb.

Photo of the Month

Liverpool Photographic Society. “I took this image of Megan, an aerial artist, practising on New Brighton beach during sunset at a recent photography meetup”.

See more of SLPS members’ work in their Annual Exhibition to be hosted by Wilkinson Cameras, 4 Bold Street. Admission is FREE from Monday 30th July to Saturday 6th August.

Check out the syllabus on their website, www.slps.co.uk, and get in touch if you would like to join! Call/text 07783 335 353 or email Tim, membership@slps.co.uk