Hearing the side gate opening, Mavis sighed. What’s happened now? Mitzi, Mavis’ poodle, raised her head and groaned, and disappeared behind the sofa. Puffing into sight was Eva, her daughter-in-law with the twins in their buggy. Thankfully they appeared to be asleep.
She stomped in: ”You’ll never believe what your waster of a son has done now!”
Continue reading‘Jed Newton. The hospital? Yes that’s right the wife’s on the list. We was told she’d be a proper good match in the right circumstances but… What? An opportunity has…? I’m not following you, mate. Listen now, she was informed the chances weren’t great due to the rarity of… What? A dying woman has what…? Are you saying Tracy can have her womb transplant?’
/
Continue readingIt was after the phone call informing me of the sixth divorce that I looked into my family history.
Sure enough, my mother confirmed I’m from a long line of bad-omen bridesmaids. We stretch out through time like twisted trees in a forest. Every single union attended by one of us as part of the wedding party has ended, sooner or later, in divorce.
But damn, do we look good in taffeta.
Continue reading‘Get your coat on. We’re off to Tescos.’
‘Are they still open?’
‘Twenty four seven.’
‘Tescos you say…?’
No food in the house, I’ve this broken wrist, you’re driving me.’
Continue readingLooking around the empty room, Cara and Helen were lost in nostalgia. The room still held the smell of lavender, their mother’s favourite polish. Clearing their childhood home had been heartbreaking, and now there was only the attic to clear. They climbed the stairs, their heavy steps echoing through the space. Neither had set foot there for many years.
The door creaked loudly, startling them. They saw a room with boxes packed neatly, cobwebs hanging from the rafters, and a chill air caused them to shiver. Both peered about looking for any sign of rodents. There were no sounds and their breathing relaxed. They checked the first box full of childhood toys, which looked forlorn and slightly grubby. They touched them, smiling, memories of happier times stirred.
Continue readingWill leaned back in his creaky wooden chair, steam from his green tea curling around his beard. With a theatrical groan, he tossed a stapled stack of A4 papers onto the table.
“They want a rewrite, Ben,” he sighed. “The script editor, a man with the soul of an old shoe, and the imagination of a month-old brassica, says the pacing is problematic.”
Ben Jonson took a sip of his espresso, suppressing a smirk. “Problematic, Will? What exactly did he say?”
Continue readingIt was here, in this very spot, that I met him last year. I was taking a cigarette break in between tooth-collecting stops, admiring the view of the town below.
Only one house was close enough to see inside – log fire burning, Christmas tree aglow, presents piled beneath it. A couple clinked wine glasses on a squishy sofa.
‘Cheers!’ I muttered, raising my cigarette aloft. I had my own present haul in a bag beside me. I’d only taken a few gifts from the children’s stockings while I grabbed their teeth. I called it a Christmas Eve bonus, although it was mostly tat.
Continue readingIn a private club tucked away in central London three gentlemen sat savouring their brandies. The oldest, a plump figure bald, lived-in face, his eyes bird-like darting everywhere.
”The memorial service was pukka, don’t you think?”
His colleagues nodded their agreement. The man with a military bearing leaned forward, glancing around.
”Just thank the lord he did the honourable thing after his traitorous behaviour.”
Continue readingShe lays out the wool in evenly spaced bundles and polishes each button until it reflects her asphalt-grey iris. It’s a careful equation. Knit one, purl one. Soft wool yielding to hard needles. One tiny cardigan for the baby unit, one good deed to balance a bad one.
A wholesome baking smell fills the room as she clicks the needles in a steady rhythm. This is Margaret’s favourite time of day, the sun just beginning to filter through the curtains. This is when hope shines brightest, when the rest of the world is still asleep and her to-do list is already half-done. Reverend James will collect the cakes later, his soothing voice an antidote to the harsh one in her head. ‘Saint’ will drown out ‘Sinner’ for a few hours. ‘Thank you’ will banish ‘How could you?’ at least until darkness falls.
Continue readingThe rain was falling hard on the esplanade. The view from the apartment of sea and beach was obscured by mist.
‘How is he?’ Karen asked her mother.
‘He’s been in a temper since we moved here. Now he’s bitter as well.’
‘Bitter with you?’
‘With me, himself, everything.’
‘Doesn’t he have any interests apart from…?’
Continue readingAlthough my journalist’s style guide has a whole section on avoiding clichés, I’m excited to share with you my awesome journey towards local newspaper stardom.
Earlier in the week prospects had seemed to be shifting downwards. An editorial encounter, at which I had intended to pitch an investigative project about vaping in schools, brought this well and truly home.
The drift of this went:
‘.…local rags can’t carry reporters with airy, ill thought out ideas…..where’s the research? ..by election coming up….get out on the streets and ask people how they think life can improve …if anyone mention vapes, that’s a bonus for you. ’
Continue readingHe stands on the corner of East Bank Way and Fabian Way, in the long winter shadow of Swansea Dockers Sports and Social Club, his tragic, asymmetrical body a cautionary tale of what might be.
The traffic is slow. It’s the usual blockage: cars, vans, buses and trucks, turning into Quay Parade, ignoring the yellow cross-hatched box that says to new drivers, “Do not enter unless your exit is clear”, but in the hurried world of nine o’clock deadlines, a warning to be ignored, along with the cheery horns of the oncoming traffic.
Continue readingBrandon never wanted to be there, but Josh assured him the old man was loaded. The moment the lock clicked open, his eyes narrowed and he whispered, “This is a mistake.”
Josh shushed him with a grin. “Bloody virgin.”
He had experience, but it was served with a level of incompetence that made barristers choke. The large thumb marked “Time served at HM Pleasure” on the scales of his chaotic life bore solid testimony to that.
“Piece of cake. Easy compared to a real blag,” he concluded.
Continue readingAs Rupa chugged the remnants of her Singha beer she caught sight of her inner arm tattoo and involuntarily winced with regret. The faded unicorn, a hazy reminder of a debauched weekend in Budapest with her bestie Ruby, who had the tattoo mirrored on her inner thigh.
“Who wears it best?!” they would often exclaim in unison. Rupa could never admit that she loathed it, seeing the unicorn as an emblem of her vulnerability, rather than a symbol of friendship. Rupa’s mother called Ruby ‘a bad influence’, whereas Rupa thought Ruby was ‘so much fun’. Collectively they were referred to by various monikers – the Ru Sisters, Ru Squared, Ru to the power of two or the more pedestrian Double Trouble.
Continue readingCarefully opening her eyes, Holly had a head full of bees. The noise bounding around, clanging, forced her bolt upright. It wasn’t a dream, she was in a cell!!
The smell of urine caused her to gag. There was a toilet in the corner, the sight of which made her retch even harder. Slowly her memory returned in flashes .
Shawna again, why did she always go along with her wild ideas? It had been the same when they were in college .
The trip to the woods ended in a bog, then to add insult to injury a branch swung back and a black eye for Holly, with Shauna laughing her head off. A night on a pub crawl, Holly woke up in a bush on the prom, no sign of Shauna. Apparently she thought Holly looked so peaceful, she left her there. Getting caught trying to sneak into a posh nightclub, ejected by the scruff of their necks. The list was endless but this was the last straw. No more!
Continue readingSitting half way up the Witches Hat, Billy Thomas was trying to comfort the young couple. They had tried to climb down the Hat, but had become stuck after a slip on the shale had left the young lady with a badly gashed leg.
Billy and his friends were on their Boxing Day trek and had been walking along gossamer trails, the hoar frost thick on the ground. A weak sun hung sulkily in the sky. He was always thankful to escape the aftermath of family Christmas Day.
Continue readingThe robin is perched on the railing of the balcony outside. I can tell without even looking out there. I’d know its song anywhere, though I wouldn’t have expected to see one here, at this time of year, and in this idyllic holiday cottage where I’m staying. I smile to myself and finish making my morning coffee. I picked up these coffee beans in the local market yesterday, and their chocolate-rich aroma fills my nostrils as I stir in the milk, the spoon jangling pleasingly against the china cup.
A robin used to arrive in our garden every year on the anniversary of Grandma’s death when I was a child. Mum would ask me to help write a newsletter for the bird to take to her, wherever she was, updating her on all that we had been up to that year. I used to love sticking in photos and drawing pictures of all the activities we had done and all the holidays we had been on.
Continue reading‘Morning, my lovely, I’m campaigning on behalf of the Resettlement party. You’ve heard of us? But of course. Who hasn’t? We’re setting the pace, aren’t we? We’re on all the front pages. Can Resettlement rely on your vote?’
‘Well I don’t rightly… I mean who are you going to…?’
‘If you’re born here, you’re OK. You’re in, you’re one of us.’
‘And if you’re not…?’
‘You’re looking at a package to help you return from whence you came. A tidy sum.’
Continue readingIt was an international group of UFO watchers that first sighted the visitors to Earth. Scepticism had surrounded their beliefs about life beyond planet Earth, but when the knowledge of unfamiliar life forms became widespread several countries put their national guard on shoot-to-kill alert.
Some of the UFO scanners expressed pleasure at their discovery. From Greenland :
‘We saw a group of eight visitors who seemed to have blown to Earth. No vehicle visible. These little guys are about the size of a child’s space hopper – round, with skin like a very old mouse, sort of patchy grey hairs. Hands seem to work like a chameleon’s. Don’t know what world they came from or how they travel.’
Continue readingI can tell you this, it was the worst thing ever. One minute I’m whole and healthy and the next I’m draped over the pavement with a spine in two bits and no movement in my lower half. RTA they call it, huh, more like EOL, or end of life as it was.
Long story short, it could have been much worse – my top half works pretty well, but nothing from the waist down. It’s stunning what medics can do to put Humpty Dumpty together again. Family rallied round and helped where the wheelchair couldn’t go. I moved in with my parents (for a while) so they could share the work of looking after me. Carers cared, and a PA arranges things that need arranging: meals fetched, clothes washed, library books changed, shoes laced, soft voices, no rows (I miss the rows).
Continue reading