BENEATH THE FOREST CANOPY
Beneath the forest canopy
In the Emerald darkness
Of the ancient wood
It was refreshingly cool
But shadow soon gave way
To the dappled shade
Where the sun pierced
The leafy veil
Littering the floor
With Golden discs of light
And when the forest thinned
We came upon a Deer
Grazing in a forest glade
IN THE DEW FRESH MEADOW
In the dew fresh meadow
I watch the dawn’s first rays
Appear to evaporate the mist
In the majesty of Autumn days
STUNG BY HAIL AND RAIN
Stung by hail and rain
And colds numbing bite
And cut through like a knife
By the east-wind’s spite
THE SUN BURNS BRIGHT ABOVE THE BLUE
The sun burns bright above the blue
From above the clouds up high
Shining brightly through the rain
Painting rainbows across the sky
MOONLIGHT GLINTS
Moonlight glints
On the silent vales
Dressed crisply
In winters cloak
Lying like rippled silk
On the frozen land
THE WONDROUS BEAUTY
The wondrous beauty
Of your pale white skin,
That seductive landscape
Pure as exotic silk
Fresh as winter snow
And as cold as your heart
THE WIND WHISTLES
The wind whistles
The frozen rain bites
And the chill runs deep
And we must escape
To shelter safe inside
Where the barn owls sleep
THE HEATHERS CLOAK THE HILLSIDE
The Heathers cloak the hillside
And Buttercups dot the meadow
The Bluebells carpet the woods
And Orchids pepper the hedgerow
In an understatement of radiance
Where the wild flowers grow
LITTLE BIRD BRING TO US
Little bird bring to us
Your sweet song
Bring it cheerily
With the spring
To the woodland
And to the meadow
And with your
Sweet melody
Usher in another
Blessed summer
THE SAVAGE NATURAL SCENE
The savage natural scene
In the winter meadow
Where the Falcon feeds
His talons red in the snow
BENEATH THE LEAFY CANOPY
Beneath the leafy canopy
Moonlight pierced the darkness
And shafts of lunar light
Like a brilliant laser show
Illuminated the forest floor
THE SUN RULES IN DAYLIGHT HOURS
The Sun rules in daylight hours
Shining light across the shadow
The Moon rules over the tides
In their perpetual ebb and flow
But God rules in the heavens
In benevolence over all below
TIGER, TIGER, BURNING BRIGHT
Tiger, Tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night
Poachers perform their rite
And leave a bloody sight
WINTER MAIDEN
Winter maiden
Draped afresh
In a pure white
Unsullied cloak
Hugging her contours
Uncorrupted
In its perfect purity
Her Pristine draperies
Like crisp white linen
Lying undisturbed
Natures maiden
In her winter coat
Tuesday, 22 October 2013
IT ALL COMES OUT IN THE WASH
Sally was laying beneath the duvet and through the wall she could hear him in the shower.
And she envied every droplet of water as it ran over his naked skin.
She had loved him since she was eleven years old and now she was almost twenty she wanted him with every fibre of her being.
“He” was Danny, the elder brother of Sally’s best friend Erin who at the age of 18 had, to all intents and purposes, become the father of his 11 year old sister.
Their parents were killed in a car crash on the M6 and all his hopes and dreams for the future died with them.
His plans to go to University and what that might have led to were set aside in order for him to raise his little sister.
The early years of his enforced parenthood he was consumed by his new responsibilities, running the home, nurturing Erin and holding down a job.
The only saving grace from being weighed down by responsibility’s at such a young age was that he was a stronger person for the experience and Erin was everything their parents would have wished her to be.
And he was proud of the result.
His sacrifice had allowed her to follow her dreams and she was now at University with Sally.
In the warmth of her bed she felt aroused as she listened to the water washing over him.
Her flesh tingled and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her nipples erected as she felt that tell-tale feeling as the warmth build within her
The water stopped and the foot fall told her he had stepped out of the shower and she pictured his naked form as he did so.
Just a thin stud wall separated her eager want from the object of her desire.
She could see in her mind’s eye each droplet of water dripping from his torso and her hand travelled purposely across her belly and slipped inside her shorts where her finger went quickly between her moist lips and she was as wet as he.
The door suddenly opened and she heard herself gasp as he walked into the room but her finger lingered between her greasy lips.
She clenched her buttocks tightly and grasped her thighs firmly around her hand
But as she watched him across the room her slender digits moved involuntarily and she continued to stroke herself.
Danny began picking up the laundry that had been discarded in and around the wash bin.
There was always plenty of it when Erin was back from Uni and even more whenever Sally slept over.
Sally and Erin had been best friend since forever and over the years she had been a regular house guest.
They’d been back from University for a week and the washing had already built up and this was the first opportunity he’d had to get to grips with it.
But as it was Saturday and the girls had gone to a party the night before and had stayed over at another friends place he thought he should make a start on the washing.
As he went through the assorted jeans, T-shirts and lingerie, he thought how quickly time passed by and how quickly his sister and her best friend had grown up.
He smiled to himself as he remembered Erin’s first Bra, it was a purely cosmetic device of course when she was twelve.
Then as she grew she went through various stages of padded enhancements and eventually to the full cupped and underwired contraptions she wore today.
It was the same with her pants in the early days they were childishly embellished with flowers or colourful characters, then progressed through to practical pants and onto more sophisticated items before progressing on to the skimpy things of lace and bows.
His little sister was a grown woman now.
She watched as he stood across the room in the half light, his upper body still damp, a towel wrapped around the lower.
He was standing sorting laundry into baskets of light and dark and as he held a pair of pink knickers she recognised them as her own and she wished she was wearing them at that moment and her arousal deepened.
He held the pink panties briefly in his hand before dropping them into the appropriate pile.
Then a red pair, then pale blue silk and followed by black lace.
Sally watched as he handled her knickers one pair after another and she bit her lip, she had never been so turned on.
Her finger was still engaged between her juicy lips, she knew she should stop but she just couldn’t.
As Danny was methodically sorting the mountain of dirty washing.
He had no idea she was laying there in the gloom or what she was doing there beneath the duvet, she and Erin were supposed to be sleeping over at Karen’s some 20 miles away.
Had he known she was there he would not have entered the room especially wearing nothing but a towel, he would have been too self-conscious.
He had known her since she was an awkward clumsy eleven year old girl who seemed to spend her entire time either falling over or picking herself up and showing off her floral knickers in the process.
But she was a young woman now and Sally was a far cry from the klutzy eleven year old in flowered briefs.
She had grown up to become a swan.
He could never tell her that though, nor could he tell his sister how he felt about her.
God how she wanted to finish herself off right there, but she couldn’t with him standing there.
But she didn’t want him to leave, touching herself with him so close was so exciting,
She had never felt so hot as at that moment.
Danny fished out the last item from the bottom of the bin and turned to leave the room when Sally let out an involuntary moan and he turned around.
“Is that you Sal?” he asked
Sally bit hard on her lip after her exclamation but was still unable to halt her fingering
“Yes” she replied through clenched teeth
He walked to the window and opened one curtain, spilling weak winter light into the room.
It lit across the rumpled screwed up duvet and a shapeless bulge beneath it.
“I thought you and Erin were staying over at Karen’s” Danny said
“Erin did” she gasped “but I didn’t fancy it”
Each word was spoken through gritted teeth and were slow and laboured and she was squirming beneath the duvet.
He took a hand full of duvet and through it aside revealing Sally’s lustful pose.
Her nipples were standing proud through her pyjama top and her right hand was still inside her shorts.
Instead of feeling embarrassment, Sally’s exposure before the object of her lust merely turned her on even more and her finger still lingered between her lips.
It was there that his is eyes were drawn, that place were the fabric of her shorts moved to rhythm of her busy fingers frigging herself before him.
As he stood there he felt a passion welling up in him, a passion he had suppressed over the last two years which he dare not have hoped to have acted upon until that moment.
He watched her and she reached out her left hand and tugged at the towel wrapped around him until it fell away.
Then the want that had simmered for so long between them finally came to the boil.
And she envied every droplet of water as it ran over his naked skin.
She had loved him since she was eleven years old and now she was almost twenty she wanted him with every fibre of her being.
“He” was Danny, the elder brother of Sally’s best friend Erin who at the age of 18 had, to all intents and purposes, become the father of his 11 year old sister.
Their parents were killed in a car crash on the M6 and all his hopes and dreams for the future died with them.
His plans to go to University and what that might have led to were set aside in order for him to raise his little sister.
The early years of his enforced parenthood he was consumed by his new responsibilities, running the home, nurturing Erin and holding down a job.
The only saving grace from being weighed down by responsibility’s at such a young age was that he was a stronger person for the experience and Erin was everything their parents would have wished her to be.
And he was proud of the result.
His sacrifice had allowed her to follow her dreams and she was now at University with Sally.
In the warmth of her bed she felt aroused as she listened to the water washing over him.
Her flesh tingled and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her nipples erected as she felt that tell-tale feeling as the warmth build within her
The water stopped and the foot fall told her he had stepped out of the shower and she pictured his naked form as he did so.
Just a thin stud wall separated her eager want from the object of her desire.
She could see in her mind’s eye each droplet of water dripping from his torso and her hand travelled purposely across her belly and slipped inside her shorts where her finger went quickly between her moist lips and she was as wet as he.
The door suddenly opened and she heard herself gasp as he walked into the room but her finger lingered between her greasy lips.
She clenched her buttocks tightly and grasped her thighs firmly around her hand
But as she watched him across the room her slender digits moved involuntarily and she continued to stroke herself.
Danny began picking up the laundry that had been discarded in and around the wash bin.
There was always plenty of it when Erin was back from Uni and even more whenever Sally slept over.
Sally and Erin had been best friend since forever and over the years she had been a regular house guest.
They’d been back from University for a week and the washing had already built up and this was the first opportunity he’d had to get to grips with it.
But as it was Saturday and the girls had gone to a party the night before and had stayed over at another friends place he thought he should make a start on the washing.
As he went through the assorted jeans, T-shirts and lingerie, he thought how quickly time passed by and how quickly his sister and her best friend had grown up.
He smiled to himself as he remembered Erin’s first Bra, it was a purely cosmetic device of course when she was twelve.
Then as she grew she went through various stages of padded enhancements and eventually to the full cupped and underwired contraptions she wore today.
It was the same with her pants in the early days they were childishly embellished with flowers or colourful characters, then progressed through to practical pants and onto more sophisticated items before progressing on to the skimpy things of lace and bows.
His little sister was a grown woman now.
She watched as he stood across the room in the half light, his upper body still damp, a towel wrapped around the lower.
He was standing sorting laundry into baskets of light and dark and as he held a pair of pink knickers she recognised them as her own and she wished she was wearing them at that moment and her arousal deepened.
He held the pink panties briefly in his hand before dropping them into the appropriate pile.
Then a red pair, then pale blue silk and followed by black lace.
Sally watched as he handled her knickers one pair after another and she bit her lip, she had never been so turned on.
Her finger was still engaged between her juicy lips, she knew she should stop but she just couldn’t.
As Danny was methodically sorting the mountain of dirty washing.
He had no idea she was laying there in the gloom or what she was doing there beneath the duvet, she and Erin were supposed to be sleeping over at Karen’s some 20 miles away.
Had he known she was there he would not have entered the room especially wearing nothing but a towel, he would have been too self-conscious.
He had known her since she was an awkward clumsy eleven year old girl who seemed to spend her entire time either falling over or picking herself up and showing off her floral knickers in the process.
But she was a young woman now and Sally was a far cry from the klutzy eleven year old in flowered briefs.
She had grown up to become a swan.
He could never tell her that though, nor could he tell his sister how he felt about her.
God how she wanted to finish herself off right there, but she couldn’t with him standing there.
But she didn’t want him to leave, touching herself with him so close was so exciting,
She had never felt so hot as at that moment.
Danny fished out the last item from the bottom of the bin and turned to leave the room when Sally let out an involuntary moan and he turned around.
“Is that you Sal?” he asked
Sally bit hard on her lip after her exclamation but was still unable to halt her fingering
“Yes” she replied through clenched teeth
He walked to the window and opened one curtain, spilling weak winter light into the room.
It lit across the rumpled screwed up duvet and a shapeless bulge beneath it.
“I thought you and Erin were staying over at Karen’s” Danny said
“Erin did” she gasped “but I didn’t fancy it”
Each word was spoken through gritted teeth and were slow and laboured and she was squirming beneath the duvet.
He took a hand full of duvet and through it aside revealing Sally’s lustful pose.
Her nipples were standing proud through her pyjama top and her right hand was still inside her shorts.
Instead of feeling embarrassment, Sally’s exposure before the object of her lust merely turned her on even more and her finger still lingered between her lips.
It was there that his is eyes were drawn, that place were the fabric of her shorts moved to rhythm of her busy fingers frigging herself before him.
As he stood there he felt a passion welling up in him, a passion he had suppressed over the last two years which he dare not have hoped to have acted upon until that moment.
He watched her and she reached out her left hand and tugged at the towel wrapped around him until it fell away.
Then the want that had simmered for so long between them finally came to the boil.
Waiting For God In Frinton
I’m in my fifties now and I started drinking when I was 15, which was in the early 1970’s.
I always looked older than my age, though not old enough to pass for 18 when I was three years younger but it was the 70s and landlords pretty much turned a blind eye to 15 and 16 year olds drinking as long as they didn’t look to out of place.
My first ever pint was in a pub called the Man in the Moon and it cost me 17 pence.
And the first sip of that foaming brew set me on the road to oblivion.
I didn’t drink everyday but when I drank I didn’t hold back and I didn’t know when to stop.
On one occasion, a Friday, I left work at 5.30pm and went straight to the pub, with that weeks pay packet in hand, in those days we got paid weekly in cash, I woke up the next morning in a bus shelter with 3 pence in my pocket, I had pissed away a weeks wages in one night.
On A works beano one year we went on a day trip to France the more serious drinkers among our party drank nonstop for 26 hours and very nearly drank ourselves sober, one or two of the group had to be carried but the hardened drinkers walked back to the ferry.
On another occasion after a friend’s house party I woke up on the bedroom floor, having no idea how I got there.
It was only later when I spoke to my friends that I found out the whole story of what I had done and that they had carried/dragged me home.
They were good friends, who through my behaviour, I gradually alienated one by one until there was no one left to get me home.
So I woke up in gardens, subways and gutters, I even woke up once in a skip with a kebab stuck to my face.
In the end I was disowned by my family and my only friends were fellow drunks.
Despite my drunken binges I still managed to hold down a decent job so when
I was in my late twenties I moved to Woking to take up a very well paid job which served to fund my benders very well indeed.
On one particular weekend in September I had been drinking since breakfast and kept it up all day, but by midnight all the pubs were shut.
But a serious drunk always knows where to find a drink so I took a cab to Casper’s, a members only an all-night drinker.
It was there that I met Angela who would become my salvation.
She was a good looking woman, around about my age, who was also a drunk.
Although the drink hadn’t yet diminished her looks.
The next morning I woke up in the passenger seat of a car on the sea front in Frinton with Angela sleeping slumped over the steering wheel.
I had absolutely no recollection of how we got there, or how we got there.
I got out of the car to stretch my legs and the bracing sea breeze almost knocked me off my feet.
I walked along the sea front, trying desperately to clear my head but things were no clearer 20 minutes later when I returned to the car.
Which by some miracle was parallel parked to perfection, and I marveled at how we had got from Woking to Frinton and lived to tell the tale.
Then a sense of doom came over me as I looked at the bright blue Chrysler in front of me because although we had got to Frinton unscathed the car had not.
The front of the car carried all the hallmarks of a serious front end collision.
I roused Angela from her drunken slumber and got her out of the car and walked her up and down until the sea breeze had blown the cobwebs away.
“How the hell did we get here?” I asked
“Get where?” she mumbled
“Frinton” I replied
“Where the hell is Frinton?” Angela asked
I walked her further along the seafront until we reached a café that was actually open at 6.00am on a Sunday and several coffees later I got some sense out of her
“The last thing I remember we were in Casper’s and you said “I haven’t been to the coast for ages”” She said slowly “so we finished our drinks and got in my car”
“And?” I pressed
“And then you woke me up” she said, head in hands
“Do you remember hitting anything?” I whispered
“No, like what?” Angela queried
“I don’t know” I replied “but whatever it was, you hit it hard”
It was after nine when we stood up to leave.
A small group of fishermen were coming in as we were going out.
“All I know is old Joe was walking the dog when he got hit” one of them said
“And he’s dead?” asked another
“Yes, and the driver didn’t stop” the first one replied
What little colour had returned to Angela’s face while we were in the café instantly drained away as the realization of what she had done dawned on her as well.
We returned to the car but Angela was too distraught to drive, I was suddenly stone cold sober so I got behind the wheel and chose a route that took us back to Woking via a circuitous route.
After That September Sunday all those years ago when some poor resident soul in Gods waiting room lost there life at our hands I lost my taste for booze.
I still see Angela from time to time she still lives in Woking but she never came to terms with what we had done that day and surrendered completely to the demon in the bottle.
I see her around about town with the other winos and I believe she sleeps under the canal bridge.
I wonder if she sleeps any sounder than I.
I always looked older than my age, though not old enough to pass for 18 when I was three years younger but it was the 70s and landlords pretty much turned a blind eye to 15 and 16 year olds drinking as long as they didn’t look to out of place.
My first ever pint was in a pub called the Man in the Moon and it cost me 17 pence.
And the first sip of that foaming brew set me on the road to oblivion.
I didn’t drink everyday but when I drank I didn’t hold back and I didn’t know when to stop.
On one occasion, a Friday, I left work at 5.30pm and went straight to the pub, with that weeks pay packet in hand, in those days we got paid weekly in cash, I woke up the next morning in a bus shelter with 3 pence in my pocket, I had pissed away a weeks wages in one night.
On A works beano one year we went on a day trip to France the more serious drinkers among our party drank nonstop for 26 hours and very nearly drank ourselves sober, one or two of the group had to be carried but the hardened drinkers walked back to the ferry.
On another occasion after a friend’s house party I woke up on the bedroom floor, having no idea how I got there.
It was only later when I spoke to my friends that I found out the whole story of what I had done and that they had carried/dragged me home.
They were good friends, who through my behaviour, I gradually alienated one by one until there was no one left to get me home.
So I woke up in gardens, subways and gutters, I even woke up once in a skip with a kebab stuck to my face.
In the end I was disowned by my family and my only friends were fellow drunks.
Despite my drunken binges I still managed to hold down a decent job so when
I was in my late twenties I moved to Woking to take up a very well paid job which served to fund my benders very well indeed.
On one particular weekend in September I had been drinking since breakfast and kept it up all day, but by midnight all the pubs were shut.
But a serious drunk always knows where to find a drink so I took a cab to Casper’s, a members only an all-night drinker.
It was there that I met Angela who would become my salvation.
She was a good looking woman, around about my age, who was also a drunk.
Although the drink hadn’t yet diminished her looks.
The next morning I woke up in the passenger seat of a car on the sea front in Frinton with Angela sleeping slumped over the steering wheel.
I had absolutely no recollection of how we got there, or how we got there.
I got out of the car to stretch my legs and the bracing sea breeze almost knocked me off my feet.
I walked along the sea front, trying desperately to clear my head but things were no clearer 20 minutes later when I returned to the car.
Which by some miracle was parallel parked to perfection, and I marveled at how we had got from Woking to Frinton and lived to tell the tale.
Then a sense of doom came over me as I looked at the bright blue Chrysler in front of me because although we had got to Frinton unscathed the car had not.
The front of the car carried all the hallmarks of a serious front end collision.
I roused Angela from her drunken slumber and got her out of the car and walked her up and down until the sea breeze had blown the cobwebs away.
“How the hell did we get here?” I asked
“Get where?” she mumbled
“Frinton” I replied
“Where the hell is Frinton?” Angela asked
I walked her further along the seafront until we reached a café that was actually open at 6.00am on a Sunday and several coffees later I got some sense out of her
“The last thing I remember we were in Casper’s and you said “I haven’t been to the coast for ages”” She said slowly “so we finished our drinks and got in my car”
“And?” I pressed
“And then you woke me up” she said, head in hands
“Do you remember hitting anything?” I whispered
“No, like what?” Angela queried
“I don’t know” I replied “but whatever it was, you hit it hard”
It was after nine when we stood up to leave.
A small group of fishermen were coming in as we were going out.
“All I know is old Joe was walking the dog when he got hit” one of them said
“And he’s dead?” asked another
“Yes, and the driver didn’t stop” the first one replied
What little colour had returned to Angela’s face while we were in the café instantly drained away as the realization of what she had done dawned on her as well.
We returned to the car but Angela was too distraught to drive, I was suddenly stone cold sober so I got behind the wheel and chose a route that took us back to Woking via a circuitous route.
After That September Sunday all those years ago when some poor resident soul in Gods waiting room lost there life at our hands I lost my taste for booze.
I still see Angela from time to time she still lives in Woking but she never came to terms with what we had done that day and surrendered completely to the demon in the bottle.
I see her around about town with the other winos and I believe she sleeps under the canal bridge.
I wonder if she sleeps any sounder than I.
KEEP THE PAGES TURNING
Grace’s life changed forever on that rainy Friday afternoon in May when Harry walked into her bookshop.
He led her from the lonely secluded world of her musty, dusty domain and into the sunlight.
It was a bit of a culture shock at first, because although they had both lost their parents years before, Grace came from a family of one while Harry’s kin were apparently infinite.
But despite that and the fact that he was 10 years her senior he navigated her passage through all the pitfalls and hazards inherent in family occasions until they loved her as much as he did.
Christmas had always been a cold and lonely season for her, a time for locking herself away from all the poor deluded fools who thought their lives would be enhanced just by indiscriminately saying merry Christmas to all and sundry.
But Harry dragged her kicking and screaming into the folly and illuminated Christmas for her until she loved it as much as everyone else.
And when he married her she was so happy she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming but it was not just a special day for her and Harry it was also the most joyous occasion the family had ever known.
He made her so happy he was her sun and her moon and he called her the star in his sky.
Since that first day 12 years had passed and now so had he.
Grace sat in the lounge of the house they made together and her eyes moved around the room from object to object.
Each one possessed with a memory that stabbed her like a knife.
His armchair by the fire where he sat and read to her beneath the hideous standard lamp he loved so much.
The Stelio Mola figurines they bought on their honeymoon in Sardinia.
The Glass fronted cabinet housing the numerous crystal ornaments he'd bought for her, birthdays, Christmases and anniversary’s, each one holding a separate special memory.
And as she looked at them each one wounded her afresh.
Her eyes settled on the book shelf, each shelf crammed with the books they loved so much and the tears fell, slowly at first, appearing from the corner of her eye like a solitary jewel before cascading down her cheek, then another followed, then another.
She didn’t know how she would continue without him.
Harry had lead her from the gloom of O’Brien’s bookshop and into the light and now darkness had returned to her world.
Whenever she was sad Harry would comfort her and dry her eyes.
Who would comfort her now who would wipe away her tears now?
Harry was a strong man and was strong in his faith, He was a lifelong believer and he lived his life by Gods rules.
Through all the years of her solitude her faith had been placed on hold but with his love it had been rekindled.
Now with his passing it was cooling again and she was angry with God.
Even though on his death bed he made her promise to temper her anger and under no circumstances was she to return herself to the shelf.
That might be difficult as the musty bookshop she came from was no more as it was now a ghastly coffee shop.
But were it not, she would not have returned there, there was but one place she wanted to be now.
The funeral was every bit as agonizing as she had anticipated,
Harry’s family had done their best to support and comfort her but they were grieving for him also.
But somehow she got through it but it was with great relief that she said goodbye to the last guest, Charles Braithwaite, one of the partners from Harry’s law firm but just before he left he gave Grace a memory stick.
“Harry made a video” he said as he handed to her “A living will if you wish”
She wore a puzzled expression as she stared at it sitting in the palm of her hand.
“He requested that you watch it after the funeral, when you were alone” Charles continued.
Grace poured herself a large glass of wine and drank half of it before she plugged the memory stick into the USB port on the TV.
She sat in Harry’s armchair and took a deep breath and then he appeared.
“Hey Hon” he said and she gasped when she saw his lovely smiling face
“I hope you saw me off in style” he added with false bravado, “I wish I could have been there” he frowned
“No, no” he corrected himself “I wish I was still there with you”
He paused to compose himself
“I love you so much and you’ve made me so so happy”
He paused again
“I love you too Harry” Grace said through the tears
“I’m sorry darling for hurting you, and for leaving you alone.
Part of me thinks that if only I had walked into Waterston’s all those years ago instead of O’Brien’s, I would have spared you all this pain.
But the selfish part of me would not have missed our time together no matter what the price”
“Now I’ve gone and my life is over, but yours is not”
And then Harry put on a sterner expression as he stared down the lens and said
“And don’t even think of coming after me even though I love you so very, very much I don’t want to see you again for a very long time”
His voice faltered towards the end of the sentence and then there was a break in the recording before he reappeared recomposed.
“Now just remember when things get tough the family are there for you, they’re your family now and they love you and they will help you”
Harry paused and took a drink of water
“Ok darling listen very carefully because this is important, keep your faith and don’t go blaming God for this” he said wagging his finger and
Grace laughed as she always did when he put on his stern face.
There was another break in the recording and when he return he said
“You are still a young woman….”
“Pah” she exclaimed
“And don’t think I can’t hear you contradicting me, you still have a life ahead of you and I want you to live it.
I don’t want my well-loved book returned to the shelf, to be forgotten and left unloved.
You must keep the book open and keep the pages turning”
“I have to go now darling” he said and smiled
“No, no, not yet” Grace begged “Don’t go yet”
“I love you darling and I’ll love you forever” and he was gone and Grace broke down completely.
But she heeded his words she allowed herself to be absorbed into the Edwards family and supported them as much as they supported her and she didn’t return the book to the shelf.
She kept the book open and the pages turning and although she never loved anyone as she did Harry she did have a happy life.
He led her from the lonely secluded world of her musty, dusty domain and into the sunlight.
It was a bit of a culture shock at first, because although they had both lost their parents years before, Grace came from a family of one while Harry’s kin were apparently infinite.
But despite that and the fact that he was 10 years her senior he navigated her passage through all the pitfalls and hazards inherent in family occasions until they loved her as much as he did.
Christmas had always been a cold and lonely season for her, a time for locking herself away from all the poor deluded fools who thought their lives would be enhanced just by indiscriminately saying merry Christmas to all and sundry.
But Harry dragged her kicking and screaming into the folly and illuminated Christmas for her until she loved it as much as everyone else.
And when he married her she was so happy she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming but it was not just a special day for her and Harry it was also the most joyous occasion the family had ever known.
He made her so happy he was her sun and her moon and he called her the star in his sky.
Since that first day 12 years had passed and now so had he.
Grace sat in the lounge of the house they made together and her eyes moved around the room from object to object.
Each one possessed with a memory that stabbed her like a knife.
His armchair by the fire where he sat and read to her beneath the hideous standard lamp he loved so much.
The Stelio Mola figurines they bought on their honeymoon in Sardinia.
The Glass fronted cabinet housing the numerous crystal ornaments he'd bought for her, birthdays, Christmases and anniversary’s, each one holding a separate special memory.
And as she looked at them each one wounded her afresh.
Her eyes settled on the book shelf, each shelf crammed with the books they loved so much and the tears fell, slowly at first, appearing from the corner of her eye like a solitary jewel before cascading down her cheek, then another followed, then another.
She didn’t know how she would continue without him.
Harry had lead her from the gloom of O’Brien’s bookshop and into the light and now darkness had returned to her world.
Whenever she was sad Harry would comfort her and dry her eyes.
Who would comfort her now who would wipe away her tears now?
Harry was a strong man and was strong in his faith, He was a lifelong believer and he lived his life by Gods rules.
Through all the years of her solitude her faith had been placed on hold but with his love it had been rekindled.
Now with his passing it was cooling again and she was angry with God.
Even though on his death bed he made her promise to temper her anger and under no circumstances was she to return herself to the shelf.
That might be difficult as the musty bookshop she came from was no more as it was now a ghastly coffee shop.
But were it not, she would not have returned there, there was but one place she wanted to be now.
The funeral was every bit as agonizing as she had anticipated,
Harry’s family had done their best to support and comfort her but they were grieving for him also.
But somehow she got through it but it was with great relief that she said goodbye to the last guest, Charles Braithwaite, one of the partners from Harry’s law firm but just before he left he gave Grace a memory stick.
“Harry made a video” he said as he handed to her “A living will if you wish”
She wore a puzzled expression as she stared at it sitting in the palm of her hand.
“He requested that you watch it after the funeral, when you were alone” Charles continued.
Grace poured herself a large glass of wine and drank half of it before she plugged the memory stick into the USB port on the TV.
She sat in Harry’s armchair and took a deep breath and then he appeared.
“Hey Hon” he said and she gasped when she saw his lovely smiling face
“I hope you saw me off in style” he added with false bravado, “I wish I could have been there” he frowned
“No, no” he corrected himself “I wish I was still there with you”
He paused to compose himself
“I love you so much and you’ve made me so so happy”
He paused again
“I love you too Harry” Grace said through the tears
“I’m sorry darling for hurting you, and for leaving you alone.
Part of me thinks that if only I had walked into Waterston’s all those years ago instead of O’Brien’s, I would have spared you all this pain.
But the selfish part of me would not have missed our time together no matter what the price”
“Now I’ve gone and my life is over, but yours is not”
And then Harry put on a sterner expression as he stared down the lens and said
“And don’t even think of coming after me even though I love you so very, very much I don’t want to see you again for a very long time”
His voice faltered towards the end of the sentence and then there was a break in the recording before he reappeared recomposed.
“Now just remember when things get tough the family are there for you, they’re your family now and they love you and they will help you”
Harry paused and took a drink of water
“Ok darling listen very carefully because this is important, keep your faith and don’t go blaming God for this” he said wagging his finger and
Grace laughed as she always did when he put on his stern face.
There was another break in the recording and when he return he said
“You are still a young woman….”
“Pah” she exclaimed
“And don’t think I can’t hear you contradicting me, you still have a life ahead of you and I want you to live it.
I don’t want my well-loved book returned to the shelf, to be forgotten and left unloved.
You must keep the book open and keep the pages turning”
“I have to go now darling” he said and smiled
“No, no, not yet” Grace begged “Don’t go yet”
“I love you darling and I’ll love you forever” and he was gone and Grace broke down completely.
But she heeded his words she allowed herself to be absorbed into the Edwards family and supported them as much as they supported her and she didn’t return the book to the shelf.
She kept the book open and the pages turning and although she never loved anyone as she did Harry she did have a happy life.
JUST ONE MORE DUSTY TOME ON THE SHELF
Grace Rawlins had worked in the same bookshop for twenty years, but not one of those trendy impersonal places, O’Brien’s was a proper old fashioned shop full of dusty well-loved second hand books.
She started there straight from school and now it was hers.
It wasn’t her chosen path, she wanted college and university and to write books of her own.
But on the eve of her bright future, life got in the way of her plans when firstly her father was killed aboard the RFA Sir Galahad during the Falklands War when she was 15 and then on the day of her 16th birthday her mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
In the beginning Grace worked part time at the shop in between grieving for her dead father and caring for her mum and also limping her way through two years of college.
She had no siblings to share the burden and no Cousins or Aunts and Uncles to turn to she had to cope with it all on her own.
Then in 1984 when she finished college she watched all her friends go off to Uni and she went full time at O’Brien’s.
With each passing year, of days spent in the shop and evenings and weekends caring for her mother drained the very life from her and by the time her mum finally succumbed Grace was as dry as the pages of the books she tended.
After the funeral, in order to fill the void, Grace gave herself totally to the shop, which is why five years later on her death Maureen O’Brien left the shop to Grace.
Year by year her life consisted of the shop, book auctions and house clearances other than that she had no human interactions outside the bookshop so as a result, at the age of thirty six Grace was a cold grey dowdy frump.
She was not an unattractive woman behind the spectacles and the tweed suit if anyone chose to look that closely, but they didn’t.
When she first took over the running of it the shop was struggling to stay afloat in a sea of apathy in which the world seemingly fell out of love with quality literature.
She did make one concession to the modern publication by giving over one window and a corner of the shop to new titles.
Also, over the years she developed the internet side of the business, which she rather liked as she didn’t have to face human beings.
It wasn’t so much that she wasn’t a people person it was just they were a constant reminder of what life might have been.
One rainy Friday afternoon in May a rather tall gaunt looking middle-aged man in an ill-fitting rain coat entered the shop and stood dripping on the doormat for several minutes before he ventured further, although it was 2002 the place felt much older.
Harry Edwards took no more than three steps and then stopped, he looked around at the rows of shelves full of old musty tomes and sighed with resignation at the enormity of the task ahead.
“Oh hell” he muttered
“Can I help?” Grace said flatly with a weak smile
“I do hope so” Harry replied brightly
“I’m looking for a leather bound copy of “The Coral Island” by R M. Ballantyne”
“We have several copies of that” She said “Did you have any particular date of publication in mind?”
“Anything from the 19th century” He replied
“I have a nice clean late Victorian copy that might suit” Grace said and went off to retrieve it
“Here we are 1890, red leather binding, very good condition”
“Excellent” he said handling the book “How much?”
“£150” She said without emotion
He thought she was probably overcharging him but it was exactly what he was looking for and it was well within his means.
And it was his Uncle’s birthday the very next day and he didn’t fancy going in search of another bookshop in the foul weather.
Also there was something about her that he liked behind the mannish spectacles and frumpy tweeds, he wasn’t sure what it was but there was more to her than the cover suggested.
“Great I’ll take it” he said
Harry Edwards had lived and worked in Brassington all his life and after getting his Law degree he started working at his Uncle Henrys firm of solicitors where he was now a partner.
It was fairly unexciting work involving quite a lot of conveyancing but he liked it.
Incidentally Barrowman, Clarke, Braithwaite and Edwards were the executors of Maureen O’Brien’s will.
Not that that has any relevance to the story but it adds a certain symmetry.
Harry was forty five years old and had himself suffered tragedy in his life, his father died suddenly when he was at University, his mother was struck with early onset Alzheimer’s and was now in a care home and the previous year he had lost m his wife Celia to breast cancer, but unlike Grace he didn’t lock himself away from the world but then he did have a network of family and friends to draw comfort from.
On the Monday morning after a big family weekend to celebrate Uncle Henrys seventieth birthday Harry was feeling a little jaded and in truth was almost relieved to get back to work for a rest.
By lunchtime however he was feeling a little more with it so as it was a bright warm spring day and as his office was only a ten minute walk from O’Brien’s the notion popped into his head to pop in and tell the proprietor how delighted his uncle had been with his gift.
He wasn’t quite sure why the notion entered his head nor where it came from but he still thought it a good idea.
The shop door opened and sunlight spilled deep into the shop, Grace was at the back cataloguing some new acquisitions while Karen and Iris, students from Brassington Uni, were putting the new stock on the appropriate shelves.
She relied heavily on students to staff the shop as there was only her and Graham in the shop on a permanent basis.
She had inherited Graham from Maureen’s time but now he was slowly cutting down his hours as he headed towards retirement, while she was cataloguing Graham was out the back packing some books for delivery.
She looked up from what she was doing and briefly studied the new arrival.
Grace recognized the man instantly as the man who paid over the odds for a copy of “The Coral Island”
The ill-fitting (borrowed) raincoat of Friday had gone and he was now sporting a well-tailored double breasted blue suit.
She had thought about him a lot over the weekend and had felt more than a little guilty at fleecing the dripping wet untidy looking man but now she saw him in his handmade suit that guilt melted away.
“He’s quite a handsome man though” she thought to herself, shaking her head at such an unaccustomed thought.
He walked further into the shop and was surprised at just how big it was, it had seemed much smaller in the gloom of Friday afternoon.
He could see there were three or four other customers milling around and a couple of young girls stacking shelves and then he caught sight of the young frumpy woman at the back of the shop and strode off towards her.
“Oh God he’s coming this way” she thought to herself. “He’s going to complain about the book”
She hurriedly replaced the book she was holding and tried to slip away but she had inadvertently trapped her foot and as she tried to extricate herself he was on her.
“Hello again” he said
“Oh hello” she said abandoning her escape attempt.
“I just wanted to say my Uncle loved the book” he said
“Well that’s what we do” she responded flippantly and then inexplicably giggled
“In fact he was so impressed with it, he has a request” Harry said fishing in his jacket pocket and removing a piece of note paper which he handed to Grace.
“My Uncle collects book from his past, they are like special memories to him”
On the paper was written The Pathfinder by James Fenimore Cooper. (Third book of the Leatherstocking Tales pentalogy)
“That shouldn’t be too much of a problem” she said “I know we don’t have one in stock but if you come back tomorrow I should have it”
“Excellent” Harry replied “I’ll see you tomorrow then”
“What name should I reserve it under?” Grace asked
“Harry Edwards” he replied “Miss…?”
“Rawlins” she replied “Grace Rawlins”
After he left the shop she chastised herself for lying, she knew very well that she had a copy of “The Pathfinder”, and it would definitely have suited.
Why on earth had she lied, what on earth had gotten into her.
As Harry walked back to the office he had an unaccountable spring in his step and he was actually glad she didn’t have that book in stock as it meant he didn’t have to make an excuse to go back the next day.
On Tuesday he found the morning passed by interminably slowly in fact at one point he thought the clock had stopped.
But eventually the morning passed and the moment the clock struck twelve he was out the door.
“I’m taking an early lunch” he said
“Ok Mr. Edwards” his PA said
He walked briskly along the street towards O’Brien’s and was surprised by the presence of butterflies in his stomach.
“How ridiculous” he muttered to himself
Grace had been kept very busy all morning as she was alone in the shop on a Tuesday morning but she was well aware that lunchtime was approaching.
She had her back to the door and when she heard it open she took a deep breath and turned around with a smile.
“What are you looking so pleased about?” Graham asked
“Oh no reason” Grace replied “it’s just such a lovely day”
“You don’t normally smile when the sun shine’s” Graham said “come to think of it you don’t normally smile”
“I smile” Grace said defensively
“Not often” he answered as he went to the back of the shop
“I do smile” she said to herself crossly as she turned and watched him
“I know” Harry said
Grace was speechless when she turned around and saw Harry standing there and for a moment felt like she was fifteen again.
Before she stuttered and stammered her way through a sentence.
Harry laughed at her discomfiture before saying
“I’m sorry if I startled you”
“No its fine, really” she said
Harry left the shop half an hour later minus the book that he’d gone in for but he didn’t care he was just pleased to have seen her again.
It was the first time since his wife’s death that he had even noticed another woman and as he enjoyed the spring sunshine he was blissfully unaware just how significant that was.
Grace had told him the book wouldn’t be in until the next day and didn’t even feel guilty for lying to him this time as it meant she would see him again.
Then she realized she’d have to give him the book eventually or he’d stop coming anyway.
For Harry the rest of the afternoon was spent very unproductively as he tried to reason in his mind why he was so drawn to a dowdy young bookworm.
“Well younger than me” he said out loud
She wasn’t even his type at all and she had cheated him on that copy of “The Coral Island”.
The next day Harry couldn’t make it to the shop as he was at the magistrate’s courts in the morning and had two funerals in the afternoon.
Grace however was unaware of the reason for his failure to appear and thought herself a fool and chastised herself for lowering her guard, she didn’t smile at all that day.
On Thursday morning Harry left his office about 10 o’clock and ran through the rain in his borrowed ill-fitting raincoat to the shop.
He had not mentioned his movements the last time he was in the shop and had no reason to think his absence would be noticed.
But strangely it meant something to him that he had missed seeing her.
At O’Brien’s Karen, Iris and Graham were bemoaning the return of the unsmiling Grace who had awoken that morning with fresh resolve to return her life back to its previous unadventurous course and not allow herself to be disappointed again.
Having reached the shop Harry just stood outside and stared at the rain streaked windows wondering what the hell he was thinking.
Why would this young woman see him as anything more than just another customer?
“You’re being ridiculous” he said to himself and turned around and started back towards work.
But he only took a few faces before he stopped and returned to the shop.
He stood again looking at the shop and taking a deep breath he said
“Nothing ventured nothing gained” and pushed open the door
Grace was feeling wretched and made everyone’s morning miserable.
She had placed the copy of “The Pathfinder” by the till and resolved that should he come in again she would give him the book and that would be an end to it, after all he was just another customer.
Grace sighed and headed towards the back of the shop, Karen and Iris kept their heads down as she passed them and when Graham appeared from the store room and saw her coming his way he performed an immediate u-turn.
Then she heard the door open behind her and she sighed again and prepared to deliver a withering look upon the person responsible for the intrusion.
“Harry” she said when she saw him and instantly her sternness melted away “er Mr. Edwards I mean”
“No please Harry is fine” he replied and returned her smile
“I have your book” Grace said producing it like an exhibit in a court case.
“Oh great” he said “I’m only sorry I couldn’t come in for it yesterday Miss Rawlins”
“Please call me Grace,” she said coyly
He then went on to explain in depth all the ins and outs of his previous day and why he hadn’t come to the shop.
All this was done in her inner sanctum over a mug of coffee.
“She’s never had a guest in her office before” Iris whispered as she and Karen listened through the door.
“And she’s laughing” Karen said in disbelief
An hour after he arrived he left the shop and walked back towards his office with the book tucked under his arm and more importantly than that a date with Grace for the following evening.
So it was on a bright Friday evening just one week after his first rain soaked visit that he walked into O’Brien’s bookshop and found the dusty tome that was Grace Rawlins had been rebound and the dowdy bookish young woman was transformed.
Harry took her hand and led her from the shop.
And she stepped out from the narrow confines of her stale and musty domain and rejoined the world of infinite possibilities with her heart full of hope and not a little trepidation.
It was now her turn to live life rather than reading about other peoples.
She started there straight from school and now it was hers.
It wasn’t her chosen path, she wanted college and university and to write books of her own.
But on the eve of her bright future, life got in the way of her plans when firstly her father was killed aboard the RFA Sir Galahad during the Falklands War when she was 15 and then on the day of her 16th birthday her mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
In the beginning Grace worked part time at the shop in between grieving for her dead father and caring for her mum and also limping her way through two years of college.
She had no siblings to share the burden and no Cousins or Aunts and Uncles to turn to she had to cope with it all on her own.
Then in 1984 when she finished college she watched all her friends go off to Uni and she went full time at O’Brien’s.
With each passing year, of days spent in the shop and evenings and weekends caring for her mother drained the very life from her and by the time her mum finally succumbed Grace was as dry as the pages of the books she tended.
After the funeral, in order to fill the void, Grace gave herself totally to the shop, which is why five years later on her death Maureen O’Brien left the shop to Grace.
Year by year her life consisted of the shop, book auctions and house clearances other than that she had no human interactions outside the bookshop so as a result, at the age of thirty six Grace was a cold grey dowdy frump.
She was not an unattractive woman behind the spectacles and the tweed suit if anyone chose to look that closely, but they didn’t.
When she first took over the running of it the shop was struggling to stay afloat in a sea of apathy in which the world seemingly fell out of love with quality literature.
She did make one concession to the modern publication by giving over one window and a corner of the shop to new titles.
Also, over the years she developed the internet side of the business, which she rather liked as she didn’t have to face human beings.
It wasn’t so much that she wasn’t a people person it was just they were a constant reminder of what life might have been.
One rainy Friday afternoon in May a rather tall gaunt looking middle-aged man in an ill-fitting rain coat entered the shop and stood dripping on the doormat for several minutes before he ventured further, although it was 2002 the place felt much older.
Harry Edwards took no more than three steps and then stopped, he looked around at the rows of shelves full of old musty tomes and sighed with resignation at the enormity of the task ahead.
“Oh hell” he muttered
“Can I help?” Grace said flatly with a weak smile
“I do hope so” Harry replied brightly
“I’m looking for a leather bound copy of “The Coral Island” by R M. Ballantyne”
“We have several copies of that” She said “Did you have any particular date of publication in mind?”
“Anything from the 19th century” He replied
“I have a nice clean late Victorian copy that might suit” Grace said and went off to retrieve it
“Here we are 1890, red leather binding, very good condition”
“Excellent” he said handling the book “How much?”
“£150” She said without emotion
He thought she was probably overcharging him but it was exactly what he was looking for and it was well within his means.
And it was his Uncle’s birthday the very next day and he didn’t fancy going in search of another bookshop in the foul weather.
Also there was something about her that he liked behind the mannish spectacles and frumpy tweeds, he wasn’t sure what it was but there was more to her than the cover suggested.
“Great I’ll take it” he said
Harry Edwards had lived and worked in Brassington all his life and after getting his Law degree he started working at his Uncle Henrys firm of solicitors where he was now a partner.
It was fairly unexciting work involving quite a lot of conveyancing but he liked it.
Incidentally Barrowman, Clarke, Braithwaite and Edwards were the executors of Maureen O’Brien’s will.
Not that that has any relevance to the story but it adds a certain symmetry.
Harry was forty five years old and had himself suffered tragedy in his life, his father died suddenly when he was at University, his mother was struck with early onset Alzheimer’s and was now in a care home and the previous year he had lost m his wife Celia to breast cancer, but unlike Grace he didn’t lock himself away from the world but then he did have a network of family and friends to draw comfort from.
On the Monday morning after a big family weekend to celebrate Uncle Henrys seventieth birthday Harry was feeling a little jaded and in truth was almost relieved to get back to work for a rest.
By lunchtime however he was feeling a little more with it so as it was a bright warm spring day and as his office was only a ten minute walk from O’Brien’s the notion popped into his head to pop in and tell the proprietor how delighted his uncle had been with his gift.
He wasn’t quite sure why the notion entered his head nor where it came from but he still thought it a good idea.
The shop door opened and sunlight spilled deep into the shop, Grace was at the back cataloguing some new acquisitions while Karen and Iris, students from Brassington Uni, were putting the new stock on the appropriate shelves.
She relied heavily on students to staff the shop as there was only her and Graham in the shop on a permanent basis.
She had inherited Graham from Maureen’s time but now he was slowly cutting down his hours as he headed towards retirement, while she was cataloguing Graham was out the back packing some books for delivery.
She looked up from what she was doing and briefly studied the new arrival.
Grace recognized the man instantly as the man who paid over the odds for a copy of “The Coral Island”
The ill-fitting (borrowed) raincoat of Friday had gone and he was now sporting a well-tailored double breasted blue suit.
She had thought about him a lot over the weekend and had felt more than a little guilty at fleecing the dripping wet untidy looking man but now she saw him in his handmade suit that guilt melted away.
“He’s quite a handsome man though” she thought to herself, shaking her head at such an unaccustomed thought.
He walked further into the shop and was surprised at just how big it was, it had seemed much smaller in the gloom of Friday afternoon.
He could see there were three or four other customers milling around and a couple of young girls stacking shelves and then he caught sight of the young frumpy woman at the back of the shop and strode off towards her.
“Oh God he’s coming this way” she thought to herself. “He’s going to complain about the book”
She hurriedly replaced the book she was holding and tried to slip away but she had inadvertently trapped her foot and as she tried to extricate herself he was on her.
“Hello again” he said
“Oh hello” she said abandoning her escape attempt.
“I just wanted to say my Uncle loved the book” he said
“Well that’s what we do” she responded flippantly and then inexplicably giggled
“In fact he was so impressed with it, he has a request” Harry said fishing in his jacket pocket and removing a piece of note paper which he handed to Grace.
“My Uncle collects book from his past, they are like special memories to him”
On the paper was written The Pathfinder by James Fenimore Cooper. (Third book of the Leatherstocking Tales pentalogy)
“That shouldn’t be too much of a problem” she said “I know we don’t have one in stock but if you come back tomorrow I should have it”
“Excellent” Harry replied “I’ll see you tomorrow then”
“What name should I reserve it under?” Grace asked
“Harry Edwards” he replied “Miss…?”
“Rawlins” she replied “Grace Rawlins”
After he left the shop she chastised herself for lying, she knew very well that she had a copy of “The Pathfinder”, and it would definitely have suited.
Why on earth had she lied, what on earth had gotten into her.
As Harry walked back to the office he had an unaccountable spring in his step and he was actually glad she didn’t have that book in stock as it meant he didn’t have to make an excuse to go back the next day.
On Tuesday he found the morning passed by interminably slowly in fact at one point he thought the clock had stopped.
But eventually the morning passed and the moment the clock struck twelve he was out the door.
“I’m taking an early lunch” he said
“Ok Mr. Edwards” his PA said
He walked briskly along the street towards O’Brien’s and was surprised by the presence of butterflies in his stomach.
“How ridiculous” he muttered to himself
Grace had been kept very busy all morning as she was alone in the shop on a Tuesday morning but she was well aware that lunchtime was approaching.
She had her back to the door and when she heard it open she took a deep breath and turned around with a smile.
“What are you looking so pleased about?” Graham asked
“Oh no reason” Grace replied “it’s just such a lovely day”
“You don’t normally smile when the sun shine’s” Graham said “come to think of it you don’t normally smile”
“I smile” Grace said defensively
“Not often” he answered as he went to the back of the shop
“I do smile” she said to herself crossly as she turned and watched him
“I know” Harry said
Grace was speechless when she turned around and saw Harry standing there and for a moment felt like she was fifteen again.
Before she stuttered and stammered her way through a sentence.
Harry laughed at her discomfiture before saying
“I’m sorry if I startled you”
“No its fine, really” she said
Harry left the shop half an hour later minus the book that he’d gone in for but he didn’t care he was just pleased to have seen her again.
It was the first time since his wife’s death that he had even noticed another woman and as he enjoyed the spring sunshine he was blissfully unaware just how significant that was.
Grace had told him the book wouldn’t be in until the next day and didn’t even feel guilty for lying to him this time as it meant she would see him again.
Then she realized she’d have to give him the book eventually or he’d stop coming anyway.
For Harry the rest of the afternoon was spent very unproductively as he tried to reason in his mind why he was so drawn to a dowdy young bookworm.
“Well younger than me” he said out loud
She wasn’t even his type at all and she had cheated him on that copy of “The Coral Island”.
The next day Harry couldn’t make it to the shop as he was at the magistrate’s courts in the morning and had two funerals in the afternoon.
Grace however was unaware of the reason for his failure to appear and thought herself a fool and chastised herself for lowering her guard, she didn’t smile at all that day.
On Thursday morning Harry left his office about 10 o’clock and ran through the rain in his borrowed ill-fitting raincoat to the shop.
He had not mentioned his movements the last time he was in the shop and had no reason to think his absence would be noticed.
But strangely it meant something to him that he had missed seeing her.
At O’Brien’s Karen, Iris and Graham were bemoaning the return of the unsmiling Grace who had awoken that morning with fresh resolve to return her life back to its previous unadventurous course and not allow herself to be disappointed again.
Having reached the shop Harry just stood outside and stared at the rain streaked windows wondering what the hell he was thinking.
Why would this young woman see him as anything more than just another customer?
“You’re being ridiculous” he said to himself and turned around and started back towards work.
But he only took a few faces before he stopped and returned to the shop.
He stood again looking at the shop and taking a deep breath he said
“Nothing ventured nothing gained” and pushed open the door
Grace was feeling wretched and made everyone’s morning miserable.
She had placed the copy of “The Pathfinder” by the till and resolved that should he come in again she would give him the book and that would be an end to it, after all he was just another customer.
Grace sighed and headed towards the back of the shop, Karen and Iris kept their heads down as she passed them and when Graham appeared from the store room and saw her coming his way he performed an immediate u-turn.
Then she heard the door open behind her and she sighed again and prepared to deliver a withering look upon the person responsible for the intrusion.
“Harry” she said when she saw him and instantly her sternness melted away “er Mr. Edwards I mean”
“No please Harry is fine” he replied and returned her smile
“I have your book” Grace said producing it like an exhibit in a court case.
“Oh great” he said “I’m only sorry I couldn’t come in for it yesterday Miss Rawlins”
“Please call me Grace,” she said coyly
He then went on to explain in depth all the ins and outs of his previous day and why he hadn’t come to the shop.
All this was done in her inner sanctum over a mug of coffee.
“She’s never had a guest in her office before” Iris whispered as she and Karen listened through the door.
“And she’s laughing” Karen said in disbelief
An hour after he arrived he left the shop and walked back towards his office with the book tucked under his arm and more importantly than that a date with Grace for the following evening.
So it was on a bright Friday evening just one week after his first rain soaked visit that he walked into O’Brien’s bookshop and found the dusty tome that was Grace Rawlins had been rebound and the dowdy bookish young woman was transformed.
Harry took her hand and led her from the shop.
And she stepped out from the narrow confines of her stale and musty domain and rejoined the world of infinite possibilities with her heart full of hope and not a little trepidation.
It was now her turn to live life rather than reading about other peoples.
Life With Dorcas (Part Eleven) Christmas Getaway (Part Two)
Having made the decision to usurp our parents and have a quiet wedding of our own, on our own terms.
First thing the next morning we went to the British embassy to get the relevant forms required to marry in Germany, which was surprisingly easy.
After we left the embassy we went to a variety of bureaucratic offices and queed up to sit in front of a variety of bureaucrats until in true German style every forms had all the relative stamps and seals.
However when we went to the registry office we came up against a brick wall.
“You must wait for 6 weeks” the registrar said
“But we’ll be back in England in six weeks” I retorted
“I’m sorry” he said “but it’s the rule”
“but we’ve spent most of the day queuing in dreary offices getting seemingly endless forms endorsed with many and varied stamps and seals and none of the faceless bureaucrats once mentioned a six week rule” Dorcas stated angrily
“I really am sorry” he repeated “but I can’t help you”
Dorcas was about to go again but I intervened
“Thank you anyway” I said and guided an unhappy Dorcas towards the door
“However” the registrar called “I know someone who could possible help”
“Oh?” Dorcas exclaimed
“It would be conditional” he continued
“On what” I asked
“On you being Christians” he replied
Claus, The registrar, directed us to St Georges Anglican Episcopal Church in Westend and we were soon in a cab driving along Bismarkstrasse through Charlottenburg in the direction of Spandau.
It was a very pretty little church, modern looking with a high sloping tiled roof.
We looked at each other and both nodded our approval simultaneously and walked up the path to the doors.
Claus, had phoned ahead and made us an appointment with Pastor James Morgan, who turned out to be a very jovial Welshman not at all dissimilar to the late Harry Seacombe.
“Welcome, welcome” he said when we walked through the doors,
“You must be Ben and Dorcas?”
If we were impressed with the outside then we were doubly so with the interior.
It was light and modern but in a traditional way and was as far removed from St Lucy’s in Bushy Down as it was possible to get.
After the introductions were made we sat in the pews and the Pastor said
“Well I’m not sure I can be of any more help than Claus was, it’s just a bit short notice”
We went on to explain why we had come to the decision that we had and the pressures of the big family wedding that had built and built and finally led us to take the course of action we were proposing.
“We haven’t made our decision lightly”
Dorcas said
“Oh I’m not questioning your motives” he said “but it’s just not something we do,
It’s Thursday now and I understand you’re going home on Sunday, It’s just such terribly short notice”
Dorcas and I were both crestfallen.
“Come on both of you let’s have a coffee” he said
We were sitting in his office drinking a very decent coffee when he asked
“Where is home anyway?”
“We live in Bushy Down, it’s a small…..” I began
“Oh I know Bushy Down” the pastor said with delight “and St Lucy’s”
“Really?” I said “I normally have to explain where it’s near”
“I’ve been there many times, the Reverend Oliver was my Verger for five years before she got St Lucy’s” he said “we remained friends until the end”
“She was well loved” I said “and very much missed”
Katie Oliver had passed away earlier that year.
“So sad” he said with melancholy
“She was such a lovely person, I was in the Village for the funeral” He paused in order to gather himself
“Listen why don’t you both stay and have dinner with me and my wife Clair? She’s from Finchbotton by the way” he said his joviality fully restored
“So am I” Dorcas chipped in
“Excellent” he said “you’ll have lots to talk about then, let’s go and surprise her then”
We had a marvelous evening with the Morgan’s, good company, excellent food and a liberal amount of alcohol thrown in for good measure.
We were fair steaming by the time we got in the taxi.
But amidst the friendly banter, reminiscence and over indulgence Pastor Morgan agreed to marry us on Saturday morning.
When we woke up the next morning the realization of what we had done suddenly dawned on us as we lay cuddled beneath the duvet.
“We’re really doing it aren’t we?” Dorcas said as she hugged me
“Yes I think we are” I replied
“Cool” she said
After a few minutes she suddenly went rigid.
“What about witnesses?” she said with real alarm in her voice “or a bridesmaid?”
“Well…..” I began but she was already making a call and heading for the bathroom.
“Helen!” she said
After half an hour sitting in the bathroom with the door shut talking to Helen, Dorcas emerged and was much calmer.
“Helen was a great help” she said “I feel much better now but we need to go shopping”
So I took her to the Europa Centre where I sat watching the Water Clock as I drank a pint of Guinness.
I watched the glass bowls empty over and over again while she was buying a dress for the wedding which I wasn’t allowed to see and then she chose me a suit which I wasn’t allowed an opinion on.
On Saturday morning we were up early and got downstairs for breakfast as soon as they started serving.
And all the time we were there breakfasting Dorcas kept fidgeting and looking at her watch or fiddling with her phone.
She hardly ate a thing in fact I ate most of hers as well.
I guessed it was just pre wedding nerves so I didn’t say anything I just enjoyed the extra helping.
We had been in the breakfast room for about an hour and I had just poured myself another coffee when all of a sudden Dorcas leapt up and said
“Come along, things to do”
“What?” I replied “I haven’t finished my coffee”
“No time for that” she insisted “Let’s go”
Well, a lesser man may have thought that if that was a sample of what was to come he might be making a mistake, but not me, I just attributed her demeanour and tone to the same nerves that provided me with two breakfasts so I trotted out after the excitable little minx.
When I caught up with her in the reception I was just about to make myself comfortable on a luxurious sofa when my sister Helen and my best friend Gary came bustling through the front doors.
Dorcas squealed and ran to embrace Helen.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you”
She screamed as she kissed and hugged my sister
In the mean time I went over to Gary and asked
“What are you doing here? How did you….”
Then it dawned on me, Yesterdays long conversation in the bathroom between Dorcas and Helen.
They had obviously hatched this plan.
“We couldn’t miss it mate” Gary said accompanied by a man hug
“I even suffered the budget air redeye just to be here”
And much to his chagrin he would be returning that night by the same mode.
With all the squealing and giggling from Dorcas and Helen we had attracted the attention of Christophe, the hotel manager, who we had come to know quite well over the previous week.
I caught his eye and he had that look on his face that all Hotel Managers wear when something has occurred that he was not expecting.
So I spent the next five minutes explaining the circumstances of how we came to be in his reception and causing a commotion.
“You are getting married today?” he asked and vigorously shook my hand and then kissed Dorcas on both cheeks
“That is wonderful news”
Then he repeated the process with Helen and Gary, he couldn’t have been happier if we had been his own kin.
I went on to explain that my sister and my friend had only flown in that morning and would be returning to England that evening.
“Ach so” he exclaimed and raised a finger “Ein moment” and went over to the desk.
After a few moments converse with the receptionist he returned to us brandishing a key card.
“The groom must not see the bride before the Church, I think” he stated “So the gentlemen may use this room as a dressing room”
“Thank you so much Christophe” Dorcas said and kissed his cheek like he was a kindly uncle.
Gary and I left the hotel at 11.30am in one of the two cabs Christophe had secured on our behalf and made our way to St Georges Church in Westend.
When we walked in to the Church it was as I expected, largely empty.
Pastor Morgan and his wife Clair were standing by the alter, and there was an elderly man, who I presumed was the organist as he was seated at the organ, other than that there was only Gary and I.
I stopped suddenly and said
“Rings? I haven’t got any rings”
“Don’t panic” Gary said “I’ve got them, Helen picked them up from your house last night”
I relaxed again and we continued up to the alter where James and Clair welcomed us.
A tall gangly young man then came to join us
“Ah Sebastian” The pastor said “come and meet the groom and best man”
Then he turned to me and said accompanied by an inclination of the head
“Sebastian is going to video the service so you have something to show your parents”
By the time the organ started playing the bridal march a small congregation had assembled and I recognized a handful of familiar faces among them as being from the Hotel, one of them was Christophe.
Even the registrar Claus was there.
But my eyes were quickly drawn to my bride to be. Dorcas, and she looked absolutely stunning.
The ceremony itself seemed to pass by in an instant but at the moment we said I do I felt complete.
After wedding breakfast in the Hotel restaurant Helen and Gary had to leave for the airport which despite the fact we would be home the next day was a tearful farewell.
We returned to the bar for another drink before we retired and when we reached the reception desk Christophe was there waiting for us and said
“Mr. and Mrs. Overton, please accept with our compliments an upgrade to one of our deluxe suites for your wedding night, I have already taken the liberty of having your personal belongings transferred from your old room” and handed me a key card
“Oh wow” Dorcas said and planted another kiss on the cheek of the “kindly uncle”
before we went upstairs to consummate our union in a luxury suite.
I awoke first in the pale winter light of dawn with Dorcas cuddled into me with her head on my chest.
And when she stirred I said
“Good morning Mrs. Overton”
“Oh I like how that sounds” she said and kissed my chest
“It doesn’t sound as classy as Fox-Martin” I suggested
“No” she agreed “but I like it a lot”
“I love you Dorcas” I said
“I love you too” she replied
And we made love in the half light.
Later we reluctantly had to leave our luxurious suite and the comfort of our duvet and begin our journey home as Mr. and Mrs. Overton and break the news to our respective parents that there will be other things to talk about for the foreseeable future.
It was all going to make for a very interesting Christmas dinner at my mums.
Definitely worth it though.
First thing the next morning we went to the British embassy to get the relevant forms required to marry in Germany, which was surprisingly easy.
After we left the embassy we went to a variety of bureaucratic offices and queed up to sit in front of a variety of bureaucrats until in true German style every forms had all the relative stamps and seals.
However when we went to the registry office we came up against a brick wall.
“You must wait for 6 weeks” the registrar said
“But we’ll be back in England in six weeks” I retorted
“I’m sorry” he said “but it’s the rule”
“but we’ve spent most of the day queuing in dreary offices getting seemingly endless forms endorsed with many and varied stamps and seals and none of the faceless bureaucrats once mentioned a six week rule” Dorcas stated angrily
“I really am sorry” he repeated “but I can’t help you”
Dorcas was about to go again but I intervened
“Thank you anyway” I said and guided an unhappy Dorcas towards the door
“However” the registrar called “I know someone who could possible help”
“Oh?” Dorcas exclaimed
“It would be conditional” he continued
“On what” I asked
“On you being Christians” he replied
Claus, The registrar, directed us to St Georges Anglican Episcopal Church in Westend and we were soon in a cab driving along Bismarkstrasse through Charlottenburg in the direction of Spandau.
It was a very pretty little church, modern looking with a high sloping tiled roof.
We looked at each other and both nodded our approval simultaneously and walked up the path to the doors.
Claus, had phoned ahead and made us an appointment with Pastor James Morgan, who turned out to be a very jovial Welshman not at all dissimilar to the late Harry Seacombe.
“Welcome, welcome” he said when we walked through the doors,
“You must be Ben and Dorcas?”
If we were impressed with the outside then we were doubly so with the interior.
It was light and modern but in a traditional way and was as far removed from St Lucy’s in Bushy Down as it was possible to get.
After the introductions were made we sat in the pews and the Pastor said
“Well I’m not sure I can be of any more help than Claus was, it’s just a bit short notice”
We went on to explain why we had come to the decision that we had and the pressures of the big family wedding that had built and built and finally led us to take the course of action we were proposing.
“We haven’t made our decision lightly”
Dorcas said
“Oh I’m not questioning your motives” he said “but it’s just not something we do,
It’s Thursday now and I understand you’re going home on Sunday, It’s just such terribly short notice”
Dorcas and I were both crestfallen.
“Come on both of you let’s have a coffee” he said
We were sitting in his office drinking a very decent coffee when he asked
“Where is home anyway?”
“We live in Bushy Down, it’s a small…..” I began
“Oh I know Bushy Down” the pastor said with delight “and St Lucy’s”
“Really?” I said “I normally have to explain where it’s near”
“I’ve been there many times, the Reverend Oliver was my Verger for five years before she got St Lucy’s” he said “we remained friends until the end”
“She was well loved” I said “and very much missed”
Katie Oliver had passed away earlier that year.
“So sad” he said with melancholy
“She was such a lovely person, I was in the Village for the funeral” He paused in order to gather himself
“Listen why don’t you both stay and have dinner with me and my wife Clair? She’s from Finchbotton by the way” he said his joviality fully restored
“So am I” Dorcas chipped in
“Excellent” he said “you’ll have lots to talk about then, let’s go and surprise her then”
We had a marvelous evening with the Morgan’s, good company, excellent food and a liberal amount of alcohol thrown in for good measure.
We were fair steaming by the time we got in the taxi.
But amidst the friendly banter, reminiscence and over indulgence Pastor Morgan agreed to marry us on Saturday morning.
When we woke up the next morning the realization of what we had done suddenly dawned on us as we lay cuddled beneath the duvet.
“We’re really doing it aren’t we?” Dorcas said as she hugged me
“Yes I think we are” I replied
“Cool” she said
After a few minutes she suddenly went rigid.
“What about witnesses?” she said with real alarm in her voice “or a bridesmaid?”
“Well…..” I began but she was already making a call and heading for the bathroom.
“Helen!” she said
After half an hour sitting in the bathroom with the door shut talking to Helen, Dorcas emerged and was much calmer.
“Helen was a great help” she said “I feel much better now but we need to go shopping”
So I took her to the Europa Centre where I sat watching the Water Clock as I drank a pint of Guinness.
I watched the glass bowls empty over and over again while she was buying a dress for the wedding which I wasn’t allowed to see and then she chose me a suit which I wasn’t allowed an opinion on.
On Saturday morning we were up early and got downstairs for breakfast as soon as they started serving.
And all the time we were there breakfasting Dorcas kept fidgeting and looking at her watch or fiddling with her phone.
She hardly ate a thing in fact I ate most of hers as well.
I guessed it was just pre wedding nerves so I didn’t say anything I just enjoyed the extra helping.
We had been in the breakfast room for about an hour and I had just poured myself another coffee when all of a sudden Dorcas leapt up and said
“Come along, things to do”
“What?” I replied “I haven’t finished my coffee”
“No time for that” she insisted “Let’s go”
Well, a lesser man may have thought that if that was a sample of what was to come he might be making a mistake, but not me, I just attributed her demeanour and tone to the same nerves that provided me with two breakfasts so I trotted out after the excitable little minx.
When I caught up with her in the reception I was just about to make myself comfortable on a luxurious sofa when my sister Helen and my best friend Gary came bustling through the front doors.
Dorcas squealed and ran to embrace Helen.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you”
She screamed as she kissed and hugged my sister
In the mean time I went over to Gary and asked
“What are you doing here? How did you….”
Then it dawned on me, Yesterdays long conversation in the bathroom between Dorcas and Helen.
They had obviously hatched this plan.
“We couldn’t miss it mate” Gary said accompanied by a man hug
“I even suffered the budget air redeye just to be here”
And much to his chagrin he would be returning that night by the same mode.
With all the squealing and giggling from Dorcas and Helen we had attracted the attention of Christophe, the hotel manager, who we had come to know quite well over the previous week.
I caught his eye and he had that look on his face that all Hotel Managers wear when something has occurred that he was not expecting.
So I spent the next five minutes explaining the circumstances of how we came to be in his reception and causing a commotion.
“You are getting married today?” he asked and vigorously shook my hand and then kissed Dorcas on both cheeks
“That is wonderful news”
Then he repeated the process with Helen and Gary, he couldn’t have been happier if we had been his own kin.
I went on to explain that my sister and my friend had only flown in that morning and would be returning to England that evening.
“Ach so” he exclaimed and raised a finger “Ein moment” and went over to the desk.
After a few moments converse with the receptionist he returned to us brandishing a key card.
“The groom must not see the bride before the Church, I think” he stated “So the gentlemen may use this room as a dressing room”
“Thank you so much Christophe” Dorcas said and kissed his cheek like he was a kindly uncle.
Gary and I left the hotel at 11.30am in one of the two cabs Christophe had secured on our behalf and made our way to St Georges Church in Westend.
When we walked in to the Church it was as I expected, largely empty.
Pastor Morgan and his wife Clair were standing by the alter, and there was an elderly man, who I presumed was the organist as he was seated at the organ, other than that there was only Gary and I.
I stopped suddenly and said
“Rings? I haven’t got any rings”
“Don’t panic” Gary said “I’ve got them, Helen picked them up from your house last night”
I relaxed again and we continued up to the alter where James and Clair welcomed us.
A tall gangly young man then came to join us
“Ah Sebastian” The pastor said “come and meet the groom and best man”
Then he turned to me and said accompanied by an inclination of the head
“Sebastian is going to video the service so you have something to show your parents”
By the time the organ started playing the bridal march a small congregation had assembled and I recognized a handful of familiar faces among them as being from the Hotel, one of them was Christophe.
Even the registrar Claus was there.
But my eyes were quickly drawn to my bride to be. Dorcas, and she looked absolutely stunning.
The ceremony itself seemed to pass by in an instant but at the moment we said I do I felt complete.
After wedding breakfast in the Hotel restaurant Helen and Gary had to leave for the airport which despite the fact we would be home the next day was a tearful farewell.
We returned to the bar for another drink before we retired and when we reached the reception desk Christophe was there waiting for us and said
“Mr. and Mrs. Overton, please accept with our compliments an upgrade to one of our deluxe suites for your wedding night, I have already taken the liberty of having your personal belongings transferred from your old room” and handed me a key card
“Oh wow” Dorcas said and planted another kiss on the cheek of the “kindly uncle”
before we went upstairs to consummate our union in a luxury suite.
I awoke first in the pale winter light of dawn with Dorcas cuddled into me with her head on my chest.
And when she stirred I said
“Good morning Mrs. Overton”
“Oh I like how that sounds” she said and kissed my chest
“It doesn’t sound as classy as Fox-Martin” I suggested
“No” she agreed “but I like it a lot”
“I love you Dorcas” I said
“I love you too” she replied
And we made love in the half light.
Later we reluctantly had to leave our luxurious suite and the comfort of our duvet and begin our journey home as Mr. and Mrs. Overton and break the news to our respective parents that there will be other things to talk about for the foreseeable future.
It was all going to make for a very interesting Christmas dinner at my mums.
Definitely worth it though.
Life With Dorcas (Part Ten) Christmas Getaway (Part One)
We had been living together for just over a month and I found it difficult to remember the time I lived alone.
The only blot on the landscape was “The Wedding” and I don’t mean by that that I didn’t want to get married to her, I did, very much so, it was just the subject of “The Wedding” that was getting us down.
It had become all consuming, we thought we had been quite canny, leaving it in the hands of our parents but they were driving us mad.
And the wedding had taken on a life of its own, and it was not a life form that we recognized.
We were constantly being pressed for a date and being told that the plans couldn’t proceed any further without knowing the date.
We thought once we got into December their focus would shift from the wedding to Christmas but no it seemed to get worse if anything and it was only the 1st day of the month.
We were both sitting in the lounge at home having both come off the phone with our respective parents engulfed by gloom.
“Why don’t we get away?” I said
“Get away?” Dorcas replied
“Yes, let’s get away for a week and escape the harassment”
Get away?” Dorcas repeated
“We’ll be back in time for Christmas” I continued “but until Then we can avoid all the talk of wedding plans”
Dorcas just sat looking thoughtful so I pressed on
“We’ve both got to holiday to use up”
She said nothing for a full minute and then suddenly she excitedly said
“Let’s go on line and see what’s available”
I switched on the laptop and she sat next to me as I opened the browser
“Do you want sun?” I asked
“No I’m not fussed about the sun” she said
“Ok, do you want activity?”
“Nah”
“America?”
“No to America and nowhere that’s more than two hours flying time” she said decisively
“So Europe then” I said
“I think so”
“So how about Natural beauty?”
“Nah”
“Well present company accepted”
“You’re so sweet” She said and kissed me
“Historic?”
“Hmm”
“Romantic?”
“Definitely”
“City break then”
“Oh yes a city break” she said excitedly “but it must be a city I’ve not been to before”
“How about….” I pondered I knew she had been to the usual places, Paris, Amsterdam, Brussels etc. so I cast my net a bit further.
“Berlin” I suggested
“Berlin?” she repeated “Oooh I haven’t been there”
“It has history, romance and a Christmas market to boot” I added
“Oooh a Christmas market” she said enthusiastically
“Ok then Berlin it is” I said
“Let’s find somewhere to stay” Dorcas added
An hour later we had a 9 night booking at the Regent Hotel and flights booked for the following Friday, St Nichols Day, 6th December.
And a return flight on the 15th, which would give us a full week to do all the last minute stuff and enjoy the run in to our first Christmas together.
So on the Monday morning we put in our holiday forms to our respective employers and the wheels were set in motion.
We did however have a minor panic when Dorcas couldn’t find her passport.
She thought she had it last when she lived in Finchbottom but after an extensive search of our house and her unpacked boxes proved fruitless the realization that it must be at her parents’ house dawned on us.
The simple thing would have been to ask her mum but that would have alerted her to our plans and would have led to increased wedding questions that would have to be answered before we departed and we didn’t plan on telling anyone we were going away until the last minute.
So she had to leave it until Wednesday afternoon, when she knew her mum would be at the Women’s Institute, when she could sneak into the house and search unmolested.
But all the sneaky subterfuge and stealth paid off and she phoned me from the house to say she had it.
That evening we asked John and Carole from next door to pop in and feed Pandora while we were away and then we were all set.
At that stage they were the only two, outside of work colleagues, that knew we were going away.
So we were feeling very pleased with ourselves when we reached the airport on Friday morning and we had shown the family a clean pair of heels.
But once we got through passport control we phoned Helen to let her know.
“Good for you” she said “I wouldn’t blame you if you got married while you’re away” she said “Have a great time”
We flew into Tegel Airport just after 11.00am and we arrived at the Hotel Regent about an hour and a half later and we were not disappointed by our choice.
It was absolutely beautiful, very luxurious.
We had a beautiful room and from the main window there was a wonderful view of the imposing dome of, what we found out later was the French Cathedral.
We were so very pleased with our lovely room that we didn’t leave it all afternoon.
In fact we only left it in order to go and eat then we went back to the room and had an early night.
We began our holiday proper on Saturday morning after an early breakfast we crammed in a lot on our first day.
We took full advantage of the unseasonably mild weather and did the Reichstag, the Brandenburg Gate, the Checkpoint Charlie Museum and the Glienicke Bridge in the morning and the Christmas Market at Charlottenburg Palace after lunch and into the evening.
When we woke up on Sunday morning we were exhausted after packing so much into our first day, so we decided that we should perhaps have a more relaxing day beginning with breakfast to be followed by church.
After speaking to the waiter we took his advice and got a taxi to the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church on the Kurfürstendamm.
And when the driver turned onto the very broad, long boulevard full of shops, houses, hotels and restaurants he said proudly
“This is the Champs-Élysées of Berlin”
“Oh look” Dorcas said excitedly as we pulled up outside the beautiful blue church “they have a Christmas market here too”
As I handed the driver his money he said
“They have Christmas markets everywhere”
“Oh goody” she responded and he laughed
The service was lovely and the new part of the Church with the blue glass was spectacular with the winter sun shining through.
Afterwards we ate lunch of Frickadellen with fries and mayo from a “Schnellie” at the roadside.
After lunch we went to Wannsee and walked around the lakes in the sunshine enjoying the scenery until the evening fell and so did the temperature.
From Monday onwards there was very little sun to speak of and it was bitterly cold but we really didn’t mind as for the rest of the week we got to spend lots of time hugging.
it was an action packed first few days, we shopped at Potsdamer Platz, spent hours at Museums Island, had lunch at the rotating restaurant at the TV tower on Alexanderplatz.
Climbed the victory column in the Tiergarten, visited the Berlin Zoo, went Christmas shopping at the big department store, KaDeWe, and a attended a liberal sprinkling of Chrismas markets, in fact you name it we did it.
It was when we were at the Gendarmenmarkt Christmas Market that life got interesting.
It was an incredibly cold afternoon and we had both over indulged on Gluwein when her phone rang.
Dorcas looked at the phone and pulled a face, it was not the first call that week to have caused that reaction.
“My mum just doesn’t give up” she said and rejected the call.
“I suppose that’s the price we have to pay” I said “if we want to get married and have the big wedding”
“But I don’t want to” she retorted
“You don’t want to get married?” I asked alarmed
“Of course I want to marry you hon” she said reassuringly
“But I don’t want a big wedding” Dorcas said
“I just want me and you” and then she kissed me
“Let’s do it then” I suggested “let’s do it today, right now”
“What about the family?” she mused “Oooh my Mum will be so mad”
“And mine” I said “But what are they going to do? Ground us?”
Dorcas looked thoughtful as she drank another Gluwein
“And we can have a blessing at St Lucy’s later for family and friends” I added
“Ok let’s do it” Dorcas said and hugged me
“Are you sure?” I asked
“Well I’m sure that I love you,” she said in reply “and I’m sure that you love me, so yes I’m sure”
The only blot on the landscape was “The Wedding” and I don’t mean by that that I didn’t want to get married to her, I did, very much so, it was just the subject of “The Wedding” that was getting us down.
It had become all consuming, we thought we had been quite canny, leaving it in the hands of our parents but they were driving us mad.
And the wedding had taken on a life of its own, and it was not a life form that we recognized.
We were constantly being pressed for a date and being told that the plans couldn’t proceed any further without knowing the date.
We thought once we got into December their focus would shift from the wedding to Christmas but no it seemed to get worse if anything and it was only the 1st day of the month.
We were both sitting in the lounge at home having both come off the phone with our respective parents engulfed by gloom.
“Why don’t we get away?” I said
“Get away?” Dorcas replied
“Yes, let’s get away for a week and escape the harassment”
Get away?” Dorcas repeated
“We’ll be back in time for Christmas” I continued “but until Then we can avoid all the talk of wedding plans”
Dorcas just sat looking thoughtful so I pressed on
“We’ve both got to holiday to use up”
She said nothing for a full minute and then suddenly she excitedly said
“Let’s go on line and see what’s available”
I switched on the laptop and she sat next to me as I opened the browser
“Do you want sun?” I asked
“No I’m not fussed about the sun” she said
“Ok, do you want activity?”
“Nah”
“America?”
“No to America and nowhere that’s more than two hours flying time” she said decisively
“So Europe then” I said
“I think so”
“So how about Natural beauty?”
“Nah”
“Well present company accepted”
“You’re so sweet” She said and kissed me
“Historic?”
“Hmm”
“Romantic?”
“Definitely”
“City break then”
“Oh yes a city break” she said excitedly “but it must be a city I’ve not been to before”
“How about….” I pondered I knew she had been to the usual places, Paris, Amsterdam, Brussels etc. so I cast my net a bit further.
“Berlin” I suggested
“Berlin?” she repeated “Oooh I haven’t been there”
“It has history, romance and a Christmas market to boot” I added
“Oooh a Christmas market” she said enthusiastically
“Ok then Berlin it is” I said
“Let’s find somewhere to stay” Dorcas added
An hour later we had a 9 night booking at the Regent Hotel and flights booked for the following Friday, St Nichols Day, 6th December.
And a return flight on the 15th, which would give us a full week to do all the last minute stuff and enjoy the run in to our first Christmas together.
So on the Monday morning we put in our holiday forms to our respective employers and the wheels were set in motion.
We did however have a minor panic when Dorcas couldn’t find her passport.
She thought she had it last when she lived in Finchbottom but after an extensive search of our house and her unpacked boxes proved fruitless the realization that it must be at her parents’ house dawned on us.
The simple thing would have been to ask her mum but that would have alerted her to our plans and would have led to increased wedding questions that would have to be answered before we departed and we didn’t plan on telling anyone we were going away until the last minute.
So she had to leave it until Wednesday afternoon, when she knew her mum would be at the Women’s Institute, when she could sneak into the house and search unmolested.
But all the sneaky subterfuge and stealth paid off and she phoned me from the house to say she had it.
That evening we asked John and Carole from next door to pop in and feed Pandora while we were away and then we were all set.
At that stage they were the only two, outside of work colleagues, that knew we were going away.
So we were feeling very pleased with ourselves when we reached the airport on Friday morning and we had shown the family a clean pair of heels.
But once we got through passport control we phoned Helen to let her know.
“Good for you” she said “I wouldn’t blame you if you got married while you’re away” she said “Have a great time”
We flew into Tegel Airport just after 11.00am and we arrived at the Hotel Regent about an hour and a half later and we were not disappointed by our choice.
It was absolutely beautiful, very luxurious.
We had a beautiful room and from the main window there was a wonderful view of the imposing dome of, what we found out later was the French Cathedral.
We were so very pleased with our lovely room that we didn’t leave it all afternoon.
In fact we only left it in order to go and eat then we went back to the room and had an early night.
We began our holiday proper on Saturday morning after an early breakfast we crammed in a lot on our first day.
We took full advantage of the unseasonably mild weather and did the Reichstag, the Brandenburg Gate, the Checkpoint Charlie Museum and the Glienicke Bridge in the morning and the Christmas Market at Charlottenburg Palace after lunch and into the evening.
When we woke up on Sunday morning we were exhausted after packing so much into our first day, so we decided that we should perhaps have a more relaxing day beginning with breakfast to be followed by church.
After speaking to the waiter we took his advice and got a taxi to the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church on the Kurfürstendamm.
And when the driver turned onto the very broad, long boulevard full of shops, houses, hotels and restaurants he said proudly
“This is the Champs-Élysées of Berlin”
“Oh look” Dorcas said excitedly as we pulled up outside the beautiful blue church “they have a Christmas market here too”
As I handed the driver his money he said
“They have Christmas markets everywhere”
“Oh goody” she responded and he laughed
The service was lovely and the new part of the Church with the blue glass was spectacular with the winter sun shining through.
Afterwards we ate lunch of Frickadellen with fries and mayo from a “Schnellie” at the roadside.
After lunch we went to Wannsee and walked around the lakes in the sunshine enjoying the scenery until the evening fell and so did the temperature.
From Monday onwards there was very little sun to speak of and it was bitterly cold but we really didn’t mind as for the rest of the week we got to spend lots of time hugging.
it was an action packed first few days, we shopped at Potsdamer Platz, spent hours at Museums Island, had lunch at the rotating restaurant at the TV tower on Alexanderplatz.
Climbed the victory column in the Tiergarten, visited the Berlin Zoo, went Christmas shopping at the big department store, KaDeWe, and a attended a liberal sprinkling of Chrismas markets, in fact you name it we did it.
It was when we were at the Gendarmenmarkt Christmas Market that life got interesting.
It was an incredibly cold afternoon and we had both over indulged on Gluwein when her phone rang.
Dorcas looked at the phone and pulled a face, it was not the first call that week to have caused that reaction.
“My mum just doesn’t give up” she said and rejected the call.
“I suppose that’s the price we have to pay” I said “if we want to get married and have the big wedding”
“But I don’t want to” she retorted
“You don’t want to get married?” I asked alarmed
“Of course I want to marry you hon” she said reassuringly
“But I don’t want a big wedding” Dorcas said
“I just want me and you” and then she kissed me
“Let’s do it then” I suggested “let’s do it today, right now”
“What about the family?” she mused “Oooh my Mum will be so mad”
“And mine” I said “But what are they going to do? Ground us?”
Dorcas looked thoughtful as she drank another Gluwein
“And we can have a blessing at St Lucy’s later for family and friends” I added
“Ok let’s do it” Dorcas said and hugged me
“Are you sure?” I asked
“Well I’m sure that I love you,” she said in reply “and I’m sure that you love me, so yes I’m sure”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)