The original passages can be found by clicking here.
****************************
Setting.
1.
The nursery was filled with toys of all shapes and sizes. A large rainbow mural was painted on the sky blue walls. A half finished puzzle lay on the floor. A shining metal robot was catching the rays of the morning sun that streamed through the bay windows. A child of unknown age was playing in the large walled garden. Screams and whoops of joy carried on the wind.
2.
The air in most of the rooms of the house was so cold anyone going in them would be able to see their breath. Not that anyone ever went in them. The heating worked but it cost too much so Margaret-Anne mostly lived in the heated room above the kitchens of the hotel below.
Her only company these days was the mouldy furred feline that was known as “Mrs Snookums” and the television presenters that she talked to occasionally. Long gone were the endless parties of her youth when she was the focal point of many village gatherings where her dance card was never empty.
3.
They called it The Bends. It was nothing more than an abandoned railway station to the local adults but to us kids it was the only place to hang out. There was an old bridge to shelter under when it rained and plenty of places to hide the cigarettes you couldn‘t take home because of nosey brothers, sisters or parents. At weekends there was cider and cheap vodka and anyone could get a hold of weed if they asked the right people.
Not everyone that went there went for the drinking and smoking; some simply went because there was nowhere else to go. The community centre had been closed by the council for health and safety reasons and the village hall was where pensioners played 10p bingo and chased the dream of winning the raffle.
4.
The slats of the blinds that hung over the windows created a disconcerting effect to anyone who entered. The large antique desk, with its heavily polished wood and well worn green leather inlay, was also a formidable barrier between the bank manager and anyone who was called into the office.
The surroundings were only softened by the bank manager himself. He was a portly man with a slightly receding hairline and a jolly demeanour that always shone through the well cut suits that he wore.
5.
The small villa, with its picturesque views over the bay, was the perfect place to forget. It immediately felt like the kind of place where she could empty her mind and not spend her time thinking of him. Within minutes of the taxi dropping her off her memory had stopped tormenting her and a sense of calm flowed through her.
The knowledge of his indiscretion was still in her mind but the sound of the waves lapping on the shore beat back the little voice with their gentle susurration. This was surely somewhere she could centre herself and think about her future.
Character.
Sophia sat on the balcony, drinking a cup of jasmine tea and watching the large rollers make their way towards the shore. It had been two months since she first arrived but the pain was still as fresh in her mind as it had been the moment she had found out about Simon and his secretary.
Sheltered from the baking sun beneath the overhang of the balcony roof she pondered how she had arrived at this point in her life.
After leaving high school with very few qualifications she realised that a good education was the key to a better life and had enrolled in college where she took a course in economics and accounting. Working two jobs to pay for her education had been difficult but nowhere near as difficult as putting up with the harassment from her manager.
****************************
POV 1. Mother.
The letter from the school was the standard kind, typed, but with names written in black biro. “Dear Miss Sommers,” It read. “Please can you attend school next Monday to discuss Your son.”
I spoke to Sean as soon as he came home that night but he claimed that he knew nothing about it. I didn’t believe him. Sean was a “troubled child” according to the school psychologist who spoke to Sean after my husband and I split up.
I was worried that maybe Sean had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd and had stumbled into drug use or had taken to drinking cheap cider down at the bends with the local teenage tearaways. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
POV 2. Son.
I hadn’t been in the house five seconds when The Gorgon balled up the stairs that she wanted to talk to me. I balled for her to go and fuck herself but she didn’t take the hint. It turned out she’d got a letter from my school asking her to come in to see the teacher about something.
I lay awake all night trying to figure out what the school wanted to see the Wicked Witch of the West for but I couldn’t think what it was about. Christ only knew what it was about, and he wasn’t talking.
POV 3. Teacher.
It was clear from early on that Sean hadn’t taken the divorce of his parents well. He retreated into his shell and became more introverted than he had been before the split of Judie and Brian.
Sean was a bright enough kid, he just needed a bit of guidance when it came to what he wanted to do when he left school. He and I had spoken and he voiced the fear that he had no idea what he wanted to do for a career.
I asked what he was interested in and found out that he’d always been interested in drama. I made a few enquiries, pulled a few strings, asked a favour of an old friend from teacher training college and managed to get him a place at a drama school in London. I wasn’t sure what Judie's reaction would be, given that I could be considered to be interfering. To my surprise she leapt out of her seat and hugged me. Sean was as delighted as she was.
****************************
[1]
The butterflies in his stomach had initially bearable but now, with less than ten until they were due to meet, they had joined the red arrows and were practising their loop the loops. His heart seemed like it was trying to make a break for freedom and his palms were damp and sticky.
He was puzzled as to why he felt so anxious about meeting her, they had known each other since they were children. Perhaps it was because this was the first time they were going out on “a date.” Sure, they met up for drinks on occasion and had a regular movie night where they stocked up on junk food and spent the night watching old classics but they had never been romantically inclined towards each other. Until now anyway.
His mother had been ecstatic when he let it slip that they were going out on a date. She had always harboured a not-so-secret desire that they would one day marry and provide her with grandchildren to dote over. His father hadn’t been quite so pleased.
When his father was younger he had dated her mother. He never got much further than hurried kisses in the chummy seats of the old picture house, itself derelict and crumbling like his fathers hopes and dreams.
He could see the heartache hidden in his fathers eyes whenever her mother came over to visit and was determined that this would never be a look he would adopt. So he took the chance and asked her to meet him here.
[2]
She felt old. Her baby boy was a man now with children of his own and a new job far away. It seemed like only yesterday that she was bathing him, changing his nappy and kissing his scuffed knees better. Now though, sitting with a cold coffee in her hand she tried to think of something to say to let him know she was never more than a phone call away.
Deep in her heart though she knew he was too stubborn to accept advice of any kind and if things did go wrong with his new job he would quickly and quietly deal with it without her help. He was his fathers son in that respect.
Her husband John had died many years ago in an accident at the factory where he worked as a sheet metal worker. Whenever she looked at her son she was reminded of him. Right now in this moment she felt as though she was saying goodbye to him all over again. The only difference as she saw it was that this time the container taking her loved one away wasn’t a coffin but an aircraft.
A static laden voice announced over the tannoy that his flight was delayed. For the first time in her life she was grateful to the French.
No comments:
Post a Comment