The History Detectives — Michael White

Oh look, Billy.” she said, stooping down to look closer at one of the pots that seemed to be in the shape of a bucket. “The potter has put his name inside.” Billy got up from the bench and wandered across. Sure enough, inside the bucket the potter had signed his name with some rough implement, possibly even his finger. “Henry's bucket” it read on the inside of the bucket at the top. On the bottom of it on the inside he had also written, “Made in England”.
“That's quite good.” Billy was forced to concede. He could see where this was going now. “This one has Andrew's Urn” written inside it, and this one says, Roland's Planter.” Sue had paused now by what was evidently “Henry's Bucket.” Billy waited patiently whilst she summed it up.
“I think we'll have this one.” she said eventually. “It's quite nice and much sturdier than the plastic ones.” She nodded her head. Billy knew her mind was now made up. “It's really nice too.” Billy sighed out loud and wondered why on Earth the heaviest stuff in the garden centre was always furthest from the tills.
“I'll go and get a trolley then.” he said, knowing full well he now probably needed two bags of compost and apart from that the bucket looked quite heavy too. As he made his way past the tills he had to suffer the looks of the assistants' disappointment that he was daring to leave empty handed. Either that or they thought he had been shop lifting. On impulse Billy stopped and bought a large round lollipop from the counter and unwrapping it, was still sucking on it furiously when he reappeared once again, this time dragging a long rusty trolley with him. He waved happily as he went past.
***
“It will probably look better over there by the bushes.” said Sue, and Billy rose slowly from his crouch and carried the empty pot once again over to the other side of the garden. He was just glad that he had not as of yet filled it with the compost or it would have probably been too heavy to carry around for long.
“That's it.” she said, smiling from the back porch. “Just right. If you fill it with the compost I'll put the primroses in it. It'll look lovely there.” Billy dragged the first bag of compost over to where the bucket now was and propping the bag of compost up against the bush went to get his trowel. Billy was just exiting the shed when he saw the bag of compost slowly slipping against the bush. His heart sank as it finally tipped and in doing so also knocked the bucket on to its side. The bucket came to rest with a loud clunk. Billy registered two things at the same time. One, Sue arriving back onto the porch at exactly the wrong moment, having seen everything, and two, the pot now sitting on its side.
A loud tut rose from the porch as Billy shot across the patio. “Fancy resting the compost on a bush, you dozy beggar!” Sue shouted. Billy was relieved however as he approached the bucket to find that it was much hardier than he had given it credit. It was still intact, although now lying on its side.
“It's alright Sue.” he said, getting hold of the garden ornament to right it. “All in one piece.” Sue smiled as she heard this, but then seemed to frown once again as she stared at the bucket.
“What's that written on the bottom of it?” she said, suddenly curious. Billy recognised the look. This was the history detective side of her.
“Probably says, “Other side up.”” he muttered, getting his glasses from his shirt breast pocket.
“I heard that.” said Sue, laughing as Billy put on his glasses.
“Actually, there's a bit more than that.” he said, and began to read. “It looks almost like a rhyme or something like that.” Slowly he traced the words with his finger, reading them out loud as he did so. “Run I can, but cannot walk. Sometimes I sing, yet never talk. Lack arms, though have hands; no head have I, but have a face. What am I?”

"The history Detectives" is one short story of many from the collection of short stories, "Liverpool" which is available to purchase Separately.