by Ann MacLaren
“He probably wouldn’t care where his ashes were put, as long as they’re with yours – eventually.”
“Thank you, Andrew. I hadn’t considered that.”
She had considered it; but where would that be? She didn’t fancy the golf course or the river. She’d have to find somewhere they would both be happy – or at least rest in peace. Well, there was no rush. She would keep him close a while yet.
They sat in silence again until a door opened and a young girl tiptoed out, looking towards them nervously. When she spoke it was almost a whisper:
“Emm… Mrs Smith?”
“Not me,” said Andrew brightly.
Iris stood up and beamed a smile at the student, hoping to convey her willingness to help the girl through this ordeal. She would try to behave herself this time.
Neighbours
(A very short story)
Maureen died a couple of weeks ago. They took her out in a yellow coffin – the undertakers. No sign of any mourners though, even though she always had a lot of visitors. Well-dressed city types mostly. She was well-dressed too, in her own way. If you like black leather.
The Council gave her flat to a homeless man – Eddie. I met him on the stairs the day he moved in and he invited me up to look around.
The sitting room was all black and had whips and chains hanging on the wall. The bedroom was done up with bricks and bars like a police cell. There was a bed in the bathroom instead of a bath, and everything was white, like a hospital.
She was a dominatrix, Eddie said. I didn’t know what that was but I went to the library and looked it up. Oh well. Takes all sorts doesn’t it?
I miss Maureen. She was a bit noisy, but I didn’t mind that – the banging and scraping, and counting. She was always counting out loud. That Eddie’s very quiet. Too quiet. I think he’s up to something up there.