In the Time of the Caveman

by Samantha Leal

  “Please don’t apologize, Mr. Byrne. If there is anybody who understands, it is me. This house has that effect on us does it not?” Camilla said and looked around the dining room, as if anticipating her father’s ghost to appear out of the dusty corners.

  “It does indeed,” Marvin said and looked over to Jasmine and they exchanged smiles while her mother wasn’t looking.

  “The fact is, Mrs. Kiberd, that I am interested in this house if you are interested in selling it to me,” Marvin said, and her mother gave a short sarcastic laugh.

  “I’d do anything to be rid of it. What I don’t understand is why you would want to own it, Mr. Byrne. I cannot imagine that you feel sentimental towards it.”

  Marvin cleared his throat and glanced at Jasmine again before looking back at her mother. He took in a deep breath.

  “I want to destroy it. Burn it to the ground,” he said slowly and watched as Jasmine’s mother’s expression went from shock to satisfaction. She was smiling at him.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it,” she said, after a minute of silence.

  “He wants to use this land to build a school here,” Jasmine spoke up and looked proudly over at him.

  “That is brilliant news! This place will finally come to good use, and you, of course, have experience in it,” her mother said and a wave of relief visibly flooded her body.

  “And I want your daughter to help me with it,” Marvin said and Camilla’s face betrayed renewed shock.

  “I accepted the offer, Mom. What can be better than running my own school in an idyllic seaside location?” Jasmine giggled, and she felt Marvin reach over and squeeze her hand under the table.

  “That’s rather surprising, you’re only a kindergarten teacher, Jasmine,” Camilla said and looked from Jasmine to Marvin.

  “Yes, Marvin is aware of that, but he believes I might have insight he can use,” Jasmine’s voice had changed to desperation, she didn’t want to argue with her mother in front of Marvin; God knows he didn’t need more reminders of the gap in age between them.

  “Now, Mrs. Kiberd, I’ll have my lawyer send over the paperwork to you in a few days if you don’t mind, and then we can get this over and done with,” Marvin said, changing the subject. He got up from his chair and so did the others. He stretched out his arm towards Jasmine’s mother and they shook hands. She couldn’t help but notice the broad smile on her mother’s face.

  “Now, how about some of that promised whiskey?” Marvin asked and Jasmine looked at her wristwatch.

  “It’s only five Marvin. Too early for whiskey is it not?” she asked him while her mother happily walked out of the room and towards the drawing room.

  “I thought you were on a holiday?” Marvin teased her and raised an eyebrow. Jasmine shook her head and giggled just as he reached and grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and they rested their foreheads against each other’s.

  “Your mother didn’t sound too pleased by the idea of your moving here,” Marvin said softly while they smiled at each other.

  “She’s just taken aback by it, but we can’t help it can we? Undeniable attraction,” Jasmine said and closed her eyes for a kiss.

  Chapter 9

  Jasmine heard her mother’s car long before she could see it drive through the wrought-iron, front gates.

  “She’s here!” Jasmine turned away from the window to face Marvin who was sitting behind his desk, signing the papers that she had placed before him a few minutes ago. He grunted in response and then looked at her over the small rectangular glasses he sometimes remembered to wear. Jasmine had now bought three extra pairs which she placed around the house so that he always had a pair handy when he needed them.

  “Best of luck,” he said and smiled. That smile never failed to reassure her.

  “Darling!” Camilla threw her arms around Jasmine when she greeted her mother at the front door a few minutes later. “You look older.”

  “It’s only been a year, Mom!” Jasmine shook her head, but she knew what her mother meant. She felt older herself, in a good and desirable way. She still hadn’t figured out what Marvin had seen in her a year ago, to give her the responsibility of starting a school from scratch.

  “But look at you!” Her mother dramatically twirled her around and admired Jasmine’s knee length black skirt and the white blouse she had tucked into it.

  “You look like a lady,” her mother said and walked over hurriedly to give Marvin a hug, who had only just emerged from his study.

  “Percy will show you to your room, Mom,” Jasmine said as their newly appointed butler picked up the bags that Camilla had dropped to the floor, and she followed him. Marvin had insisted on hiring a butler and a cook after Jasmine moved in; she had no idea how he lived before that.

  “The last thing I want is for my mother to think I’m well-dressed. I need to change my wardrobe entirely,” Jasmine whispered to Marvin as he joined her and placed a hand on the small of her back. He laughed at that.

  “Don’t let her get to you my love,” he said and Jasmine couldn’t help but feel a shiver of delight run through her body. She was his love. She looked over at him admiringly, and he looked back with a smile.

  Camilla’s voice from the upstairs guest room interrupted the moment they were having. “This is beautiful Marvin! What an absolutely gorgeous bedroom,” she said as she came down the stairs.

  “It looked like a dump before Jasmine worked her magic on it,” Marvin said and kept his hand steady on Jasmine’s back. Camilla’s eyes flickered in disbelief.

  “Who would have known,” she said and came to a halt before them. Jasmine tried her best to not roll her eyes.

  “So when do I get a tour of this school I’ve been hearing so much about?” Camilla asked and turned her attention to admiring the layout of the vestibule.

  “It’s still underway mom. At least six more months of construction, and then we’ll be good to go,” Jasmine said and exchanged happy looks with Marvin.

  “Jasmine has been very helpful with marketing and getting the word out,” Marvin said just as Percy joined them to announce that he had served tea in the drawing room.

  “I’m sure you didn’t need much marketing Marvin. Mornmouth House is enough marketing is it not?” Camilla said with a laugh and followed Percy. Jasmine could see her mother’s awe at the grandeur of the house. If she knew her mother at all, she was certain Camilla was wondering why Marvin’s mother would ever leave all of this and run away with a married man.

  “It’s a very competitive world out there, Mrs. Kiberd. An old private school name isn’t good enough any longer. This one has to stand on its own merit,” Marvin said, a serious tone had entered his voice, and Jasmine immediately regretted inviting her mother. She didn’t want the next few days to be about Marvin defending Jasmine.

  They drank their tea while making small talk. Marvin and Jasmine sat very close together, her bare legs grazing Marvin’s pants. She could see Camilla notice the times Marvin reached out to squeeze her hand.

  “I’m happy to see you both so well settled,” Camilla said after Percy had cleared the teacups away. Jasmine felt relieved instantly. The fact that her mother was saying this was enough.

  “We are, Mrs. Kiberd,” Marvin said and stood up from the sofa. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.” He bent down to kiss Jasmine on the top of her head and then walked out of the room, whistling a tune softly under his breath.

  Camilla turned to look at her daughter. “How has all this happened? You’ve given me no explanation over the telephone, Jasmine. You seem practically married”.

  Jasmine laughed and stood up herself, “Relax, Mom, just be happy for us, like you said you were. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted for me?” she started walking towards the door.

  “You should unwind, Mom;, Percy will serve dinner in two hours, and we can talk more then.” Jasmine felt good telling her mother what to d
o for a change. The pieces seemed to all have fallen together.

  ***

  She closed the door of his study softly behind her and found Marvin sitting on his shaggy, comfortable couch, sipping from a glass of whisky.

  Jasmine giggled, “I’m glad you came up with the code, Marvin. You have business to attend to, seems natural enough,” she said and hopped on to his lap, straddling him. Marvin’s hands wound themselves around her waist as he pulled her closer to him. She could immediately feel his penis harden and begin to rise underneath her.

  “Well, this is the business I have to attend to. So I wasn’t lying,” he said gruffly as she pulled his glasses off his face and placed them on the side table. She clutched his head between her hands and pressed it against her breasts. He started to nibble the fabric of her blouse and she bit down on her lip.

  “Do you want to go outside, to that spot?” she asked him, and he stopped. He didn’t answer but when he picked her up and started walking towards the door, she knew they were going to scandalize her mother.

  THE END

  The Highland’s Call

  Jessica Savage

  Copyright ©2015 by Samantha Leal. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Thank you so much for your interest in my work

  Chapter 1

  Andrea clutched the small stone in the palm of her hand. It felt cool and smooth and somehow strangely comforting. Her Grandmother Betty had insisted that her only granddaughter be given this small artifact on her death. That had happened over a week ago, as Andrea was driving through New York. It was almost as if she knew. An image of her beloved Gran had flitted through her mind at the exact moment she took her last breath.

  Betty was her father's mother. Her dad Joe had died a few years ago and her mother Pat had remarried. She had never approved of her stepdad, Pete; he could never replace her beloved father.

  Perhaps she was being unfair, but she had always sided with her dad against her mum, and now the two women seemed poles apart, no longer able to communicate with each other. Pat didn’t even attend the funeral. Not that Betty would have minded. She had never approved of the union in the first place.

  Andrea had inherited her Grandma's creative talents and she had been close to Betty when she was a child, closer than to her own mother, but after college she had been offered a three-year contract with a major advertising company in New York, and it had been too good an opportunity to turn down. Betty had understood that she needed to fly the nest. She had been a young woman once, although that seemed such a long time ago.

  Andrea had only seen her Gran when she flew home for Christmas and important family occasions. Then she had met Steve and her life in the US seemed to take on a more permanent footing, until the death of her Grandma had made her suddenly homesick for the English countryside. She loved the buzz and fast-paced life of New York but now longed for some peace and time to reflect and find herself again, and she certainly couldn't do that on Fifth Avenue.

  Steve had stayed behind. He was in the middle of an important project but was willing to travel with her on a trip home for the funeral. For once Andrea didn't feel the need to be accompanied; this time she wanted to be alone with her thoughts and memories. Her insistence on being alone had caused a strain between them, the first serious rift since they got together almost two years ago, and it would be the first time they had spent any real time apart.

  The pressure of the stone against her palm brought her back to the present. It had been almost five days since she left JFK airport, and Steve hadn't phoned her since. Not even yesterday after the funeral to see how she was coping. It saddened her to think the man she had grown to love could be so stubborn and heartless, and she began to question her commitment to the relationship. Did she really know him? He had seemed to be perfect for her, and she had enjoyed his company; yet when she looked back at the continual rounds of friends and parties, drinks and dinners, it seemed somewhat shallow. Lately she had started to feel broody; her body clock reminding her that time was ticking away. She had mentioned it to Steve once in a light-hearted way, and he had held up his hands in mock horror. That would never be the deal with him; his career was way too important, and her needs would always come second.

  Did she and Steve really have anything in common?

  The day was grey and coarse; the wind whipped up sharply from behind the trees and caused her to shiver. She had forgotten the English weather and hadn't prepared nor packed for it.

  Opening her palm, Andrea looked down at the stone in her hand. She remembered seeing it as a child, taking prize position behind the glass in the old china cabinet in her Gran’s front room. Occasionally she had been allowed to take it out and hold it in her small palm. It was pale in color, not quite white and not quite beige. Several markings had been etched deeply into the surface, and she’d been told it once belonged to a white witch with magical powers. As a child, she had held the small token and made a secret wish that she would never grow up, that she would always remain a child. Of course, that hadn't happened. Not physically, anyway—but perhaps in her heart?

  Grandma Betty had always been so full of life, her small blue eyes twinkling on the wrinkled and careworn face. There had been some sadness in her youth, but no one had talked of it and Andrea had never asked, but sometimes she saw a wistful shadow slightly dimming those sparkling eyes.

  And now the stone was hers—that and an old battered leather diary from 1956. Before her death, Grandma Betty had written her a letter, the hand-writing barely legible on the expensive vellum cream paper. It had taken her a while to read the spidery hand.

  Andrea,

  My darling Granddaughter, I fear that I may not see you again. I do hope that is not the case, but I have to be practical. There is so much I should have told you and so much left to say, but my time is running out. Remember the wishing stone you used to ask me about as a child? I leave that to you. It's my most valued possession. You must promise that you will do something for me? The stone needs to be returned to its rightful home on the Isle of Iona, just off the Isle of Mull. You must take it into the Abbey and enter the little graveyard of St. Oran's chapel. Take the stone and place it on the third grave on the left-hand side. I can't explain everything to you in this letter. Most of it I don't understand myself. But you must promise me this, this small pilgrimage of mine. The diary may help? Call it an old woman's ramblings, but as you loved me please do this one last thing for me. The thought of you, my only remaining flesh and blood carrying out this last request, brings peace to my mind as I near my end.

  I will never stop loving you even when I am far away.

  Grandma Betty x

  Tears trickled down her face as she imagined the dear old lady sitting up in bed, scribbling her last instructions to the world. It must have taken a lot of effort to write the letter. She had been in a very weak state in the end and therefore must have considered it extremely important to write.

  Andrea had promised Steve she would be back in a few days, but what would a few more matter? It wasn't as if he was speaking to her anyhow. She would visit Iona. It was the last thing she could do for her grandmother, and although it would mean a further 1000 mile round trip, it would give her some peace of mind to follow her last wishes.

  The phone vibrated in her jeans pocket, and pulling it out, she could see it was Steve calling from New York.

  "Hey." His voice was deep and apologetic across the miles, and her heart thumped loudly at the sound of him.

  "Hey, back." She tried to sound light as she finished their usual greeting.

  "So, how are you?"

  She could tell he was struggling to find the right words.

  "Not too bad, under the circumstances. It was the funeral yesterday." Andrea could feel
herself start to choke on the words; she had been bottling things up for too long.

  There was a pause as Steve caught his breath. "Yesterday? Andrea, I'm so sorry, I would have called. I thought it was today."

  Another lengthy pause ensued. Usually they had so much to talk about.

  "At least you'll be home tomorrow,” he added. “I've missed you."

  And now it was crunch time.

  "Steve, I won't be coming home tomorrow. I've extended my stay by a week." She could hear disappointment in the silence that followed.

  "I have to go up to Scotland, to Iona. It was Gran’s last wish."

  "What?"

  His voice sounded incredulous, as if he hadn’t quite heard her right.

  "It's just something I have to do; it was her dying wish that I visit the chapel there."

  "But honey, you don't have to do that now. Not right away, anyway. You haven't forgotten the opening night for my exhibition, have you? It's in four days. I want you by my side. You promised."

  Andrea had forgotten, and she closed her eyes as if that would make things go away. She had tried that as a child; it hadn't worked then, and it didn't help now. It just gave her a few more seconds to think.

  "Andrea?"

  "It was her last wish, Steve. I've got to do it."

  She could feel his exasperation as he breathed heavily into his phone.

  "Are you crazy? You know how much this exhibition means to me. You're not really going to put your senile old grandmother ahead of me, ahead of us?"

  "Grandma Betty wasn't senile!"

  "I know, honey. I know how much she meant to you, but you've got to be reasonable."