As he lay on the sun bed, a clumsy female bumped into his feet which were overhanging the end. Instead of the,
“Sorry.”
that he was half expecting, . . . she did it again. He peeped over his book and seemed to recognise the woman, but couldn’t place her.
“You look as though you are enjoying that book” she said.
“It’s terrific.” Frank replied. “Best book that I’ve ever read.
I’ve nearly finished, Would you like to borrow it after?”
“No, . . . but thank you for the offer.”
“I assume that you must have read it then have you?”
“We...ll sort of . . . Actually, . . . I wrote it.”
“Christ, Are you Penny Farthing then?”
“Correct in every syllable.”
So that’s who she was. . . Recognition. . . . Yes, add glasses, and a smart trouser suit instead of the skimpy bikini, and that was the picture on the book’s front cover.
And she was bloody gorgeous.
Frank stood up to introduce himself and they stood chatting about books, then the hot sunshine, then anything else to be talked about. As they chatted Penn got very flirtatious.
Frank enjoyed every minute of it though admittedly, he was concerned that Janet was likely to appear at any time.
During the next ten minutes Frank made more progress than in two years with Janet. In the end, he swept her into his arms and stepped towards the pool.
“If you don’t stop tormenting me, I’ll throw you in the pool at the deep end.”
But, as he held her, their eyes locked. . . . with that look.
Then, their lips met. A lingering ~ passionate ~ kiss.
She was like her book, he couldn’t put her down.
As it happened he didn’t have to. A very furious Janet crept up behind them and with some very unladylike comments she gave a violent push that plunged them both into the pool.
Devastated, Janet caught a plane home the same day.
As she moved out of the room, Penn moved in, The beginning of a very happy romance. A few months later, a tabloid journalist headed his gossip column
Budding writer to wed.
Or will inflation raise Farthing to Halfpenny?
The Parish Magazine.
Am I romantic, soppy, or just plain daft?
Me, a fifty-nine year old grandmother, and I’m in love.
Alright, I know that lots of people say that.
But I find myself moping around the house like a lovesick teenager.
Do you know what I did yesterday, while I was baby sitting my youngest granddaughter? I put her in her buggy and went for a walk through Princess Park. Stopping by the big conker tree, I took a kitchen knife from my handbag, and carved the long accepted lovers ‘arrow through the heart’ symbol.
With great pleasure I added the initials M and E plain for all to see. Everyone in West Ashton has carved on that tree at sometime.
In fact it has always been called the Valentine tree. ........ I am proud of my contribution.
Madge and Eric forever. Oh, if only it could be true.
Where love is concerned, there always seem to be three people in the equation.
* * *
Eric has been locked in a loveless marriage for nigh on forty years.
It’s not simply a case of splitting up or anything like that.
Nothing so easy. Maud isn’t only a dragon of a wife, she is also his business partner. A very shrewd and hard hearted factory manager.
If he did leave Maud, Eric could come to live here with me, either as a lodger, or ..... as they used to say ‘living over the brush’ .
We could even marry when he was free. Now that, would make me the happiest person on this earth.
The problem is, if Eric left his wife, she’d break him.
It would no doubt mean the end of the family firm, established early in the last century. Half the village would lose their jobs if the company closed.
* * *
It all started just over two years ago. I’ve been in the choir at St. Stevens most of my life and after choir practice one evening I stayed behind to do a bit of weeding on my husband’s grave.
Eric, the Church organist, had popped into the rectory to see about the parish magazine. He came out just as I was finishing off.
That, was when that I noticed the flat tyre on my bike.
Ever helpful, Eric immediately volunteered,
“That’s no problem Madge, I’ll be more than happy to give you a lift home.”
Driving along the bypass, we heard the tail end of a play on the car radio. It sounded as though the main character was having a very difficult time with his marriage.
“That’s typical.” Eric whispered, “Exactly like me and my life.” .
“Never,” I replied. You and Maud are the pillars of society, everybody knows that”.
“All show my dear. All show. If only you knew the half.......”
He sniffed and I thought I detected a little sob. I interupted,
“Tell me about it. If you would like to confide in me, I’m ready to listen.
He drew the car into the layby behind my cottage, switched the radio off, and, holding my right hand, he poured out the entire sorry story.
He knew that I wouldn’t say anything to anyone,
I didn’t even know what to say to him.
The next time that I saw him was four days later. He called to deliver the Parish Magazine, as he always did on the second Monday of the month. The difference was, that this time, I asked him in for a cup of tea.
“Ok but it will have to be a quick one.” he said, “If ‘you-know-who’ found out that I had been confiding in another lady she would make my life even more hell than she does already.” After he had had his drink, he didn’t want to leave, but needs must.
As he left, he gave me a peck on the cheek and said,
“Thank you. ........ Thank you again for listening.”
That peck was the start. Next time he gave me a lift home the kiss was just a teeny little bit more passionate. Everything else developed from there. In twenty years, nobody but Eric had ever delivered the Parish Magazine. Whenever he called at my house with the magazine he always came in for a cup of tea, though lately, we have been so occupied with each other that the tea has usually gone cold and been poured down the sink after he has gone.
Within a few months we both realised that we were head over heels in love. We also realised how hopeless the situation was. I felt like a dual personality, one half of me scared stiff of anyone finding out, and the other half wanting to shout and tell everyone, “Eric Anderson and I are in love.” for all to hear.
To meet without being seen has been so difficult, especially as Eric’s car has a personalised number plate.
I’ve been a Churchgoer all my life, but never before have I understood the importance of the unwritten commandment.
Thou shalt not get found out.
Sometimes, to be away from prying eyes, we meet in my caravan at Tomorrow Heath. A six mile bike ride. Just to see a feller for an hour. Many times it was more like half an hour. Even a quarter sometimes, .... that’s got to be love.
Mind you, I’d cycle there, happy to be with him for two minutes.
Just to see, to talk, to kiss. That’s why I know that it’s definitely real love.
It wasn’t long afterwards that we both were making every excuse possible to see each other. I soon found that those long thin fingers that made such lovely music on the Church organ, were equally adept at undoing my buttons. As for elastic, .... I don’t know. We’ve never got that far ..... yet.
There’s more to life than that.
If it happens,.... fine, ... if not, .... well.... we are happy just being together. Mind you, it will happen sometime, he wants it and so do I in fact, for me it can’t come soon enough.
Our Rector is simply not the type of person who you can talk to. Eric has two golfing friends, his solicitor and
also his company accountant They are both Church wardens, so he has absolutely nobody but me to confide in.
We talk and talk and talk.
We have even worked out a good system for phone calls, so that there is less chance of ‘you-know-who’ finding out.
There have been far too few opportunities for us to spend as much time as we would like together, but believe you me, we make the most of what we do have.
Last week, His wife was away at the daughter’s for a couple of days, so life was bliss. I will always remember one thing that he said to me.
“Darling, do you know .... you have exactly the same colour eyes as ‘you-know-who’. The difference is, in hers I see cold steel and anger, in yours I see warmth, comfort and passion.”
I smiled, and he went on, “That is another reason why I love you so.”
Recently, we have both accepted that we are going to get found out before long, and tend to have taken more risks.
Mind you, even though he could have, he’s never stayed overnight.
The night before his wife came back, we had actually opened the door at the bottom of the stairs. Then a call on his mobile phone made the decision for him. He had to go back into the factory.
* * *
Today is Saint Valentine ’s Day and I had wondered whether I would receive a card from Eric or not. It was very doubtful, pie in the sky really. There is no way that I could send one to him, either at work or at home, for obvious reasons. So when the postman cycled past my little cottage whistling, I wasn’t too disappointed.
However, when Gwen from the florists called, I was taken by surprise. The loveliest bouquet of flowers that I have ever seen.
The card simply said ...... “No message, ...... just thoughts”.
If Gwen didn’t know about us before, she certainly does now!
And that’s not all, as if I could forget, today isn’t only Valentine’s day, it is also the second Monday of the month.
The Parish Magazine will be here soon ..... I had better go and freshen up.
I’ve got to go upstairs anyhow, I’m going to light the stove in the bedroom, ....... just in case. I might even stay up there and call through the window,
“Eric, I’m in the front bedroom, come on up.” That would be great.
A Country Ramble .
Angela Price was overjoyed when she was offered the position of chief librarian at Upper Willowbed. It wasn’t going to be easy. For a start, being sixty miles away from her present home, it meant setting herself up in the new apartment that was offered with the job.
Fortunately, with able bodied parents only too willing to assist, the move took place a week before she took up her new employment. Mind you, after having parental protection for thirty five years, she needed all the help that she could get.
One of the things that she did during that week was to make enquiries about a local writers group. She was a keen writer and wanted to continue the sort of writing that she had enjoyed for many years. She had belonged to writing circles ever since she left school.
Her enquiries soon indicated that there was indeed a very active writers circle in Upper Willowbed. The organiser was Captain Brassington and he seemed quite enthusiastic when she spoke to him on the telephone.
“Just what we need, young lady” he said. “New blood, .... new thinking perhaps, I’m sure that all our members will welcome you with open arms.
“Great” answered Angela, “When and where do you meet?”
“There, is the first hiccough.” he said. “We usually meet at the Golden Lion in High Street every other Friday. The thing is, last night we were told that we couldn’t hold our next meeting at the Lion because of a wedding party. And the meeting after that would be on Good Friday so that is also a non starter. I’m afraid it’s hardly an encouraging welcome to a new member.”
“Six weeks is a long time to wait but I suppose I shall have to accept it”
Angela was obviously disappointed but settling in with her new job and in a new home the time would soon pass.
The next time that she heard from Captain Brassington was a week later when he rang to tell her “Most members of the group were going out for a country ramble on Easter Sunday Morning would you like to join us.
“I’d be delighted to join you all. However, there is one thing that I need to tell you first.”
“I’m all ears, please continue.”
“I don’t walk.” She told him. “My legs are the four wheels on my electric scooter.” After a sharp intake of breath the Captain continued,
“In that case, I’ll walk the route myself a few days beforehand and make sure that the paths are all suitable for your scooter, I can’t forsee any problem. I only hope that this damned weather will improve before then.”
He was as good as his word, and called in at the library to meet her for the first time and explain that with slight variations, the route should be suitable for the scooter. His parting comment was,
“See you on the Lion car park on Sunday then,”
“I can’t wait.” she said. The fact that the Captain was a very attractive young man didn’t go unnoticed. He did call back to add,
“I had better warn you about the Rosenbergs, they are two of our founder members who are very outspoken. Otherwise they are lovely people, but they just don’t care who they upset with their caustic comments.” Though puzzled, she felt duly warned.
“Are they by any chance connected with the poultry farm out on the bye pass?” she asked. “They certainly are,” replied the Captain.
“Why?”
“Nothing, It’s just that I’ve seen the vans, Emannuel Rosenberg and thought it an unusual name that’s all”
When they met on the Lion car park it was drizzling but nevertheless, spirits were high. Whilst Angela was being introduced to most of the crowd, she overheard the comment “God, we’ll be out all day if we’ve got to play nursemaid to the bloody spastics.” Of course it was Molly Rosenberg speaking. Even her brother Manny was embarrassed but he had to agree with her. Angela had been warned, but the remark still prickled. It shouldn’t, she was used it, having heard such comments many many times over the years. However, once they got moving it was soon forgotten. Sharp left after leaving the Lion, then cross the road and turn into leafy lane. There were about fifteen of them. They soon split into three groups. The group that stayed with her were a great crowd. They were amazed that she could identify all the birds and flowers that they encountered on the way. The usual idea, because she was on an invalid scooter she must be thick. Once again, she was used to it.
All went well till they got to Sawyers Bridge. Angela soon learned that it crossed a little brook that filled up rapidly in a rainy spell like the one that they had had for the last three weeks. Apparently, Greg Sawyer from the timber yard had put a plank across the brook many years ago to help kids on their way to school. The local Parish Council took a dim view of it and, declaring it unsafe, they replaced it with a posh well constructed wooden bridge with handrails. Very nice, ... but it just wasn’t quite wide enough for a scooter.
Angela explained that she could cross the bridge on foot by using her folding stick and it would take a mere two minutes to dismantle the scooter and
reassemble it on the other side. They overcame the obstacle as easily as that.
“No more difficulties like that,” said one of the party, “The other bridge on the route was widened years ago. It would take a horse and trap.” Nobody could have forseen the muddy patch where she got stuck. Helpers pushed her and got well and truly muddied up in the process. But nobody minded. Having said that, she was glad that Molly and Manny were in a group that had gone on ahead.
They all reassembled in a clearing when thermos flasks and biscuits were produced and refreshments were enjoyed by all.
They started off again and soon reached the second bridge. The first to move was Manny Rosenberg who made the comment “Let’s get going before the wheelie bin brigade.” Ever
yone heard it but ignored him.
The second bridge was over a slightly larger stream, still nothing much. Some of the clever ones decided to jump over the stream instead of crossing the bridge. Then everyone heard a cry of pain. Manny had landed badly and they all heard the crack. A broken leg. It didn’t need a doctor or medic to diagnose his injury.
Now they were stuck. At least a mile from the main road. Fortunately Angela was able to offer a solution. She could wait by the bridge and Manny could ride her scooter to the road to meet the ambulance then a volunteer could bring the scooter back for her to complete the journey. Everyone thought that a brilliant idea. With the exception of Manny and his sister, they all arrived back at the lion not much later than the scheduled time. Captain Brassington invited Angela to have lunch with him at the lion and she happily agreed.
After that, she went out with him many times during the summer months
To her he was no longer Captain though, she was told to call him Angus after their second outing.
The beginning of September saw the annual general meeting of the writers group. There were one or two prizes kindly donated by local businessmen After they were given out The acting chairman announced “There is a special gift in appreciation of “Kindness shown in time of trouble,” It was from Manny Rosenberg to Angela, ‘The angel of the day’ was printed on the card
Angela was stunned, but not as stunned as the entire assembly when Captain Angus Brassington announced “Now seems an appropriate time to present Angela with another gift.” He gave her an enormous bouquet of flowers then said, “Now seems an appropriate time to tell you all that last night, Angela Price agreed to become my wife.
Wishful Thinking .
It is always taught that stories about dreams are not worth reading: they are either boring or too far fetched for a normal imagination. Whether the same criteria apply to pipe dreams is a different matter. However, as pipes and indeed all other forms of smoking are frowned upon these days they are best also forgotten.
50 Short Stories Page 18