THE MODERN DAY WITCH
The modern day witch
Performs her maneuver
Flying across the sky
On a household hoover
WE WENT TO A FANCY DRESS PARTY # 1
We went to a fancy dress party
I was a wizard and she was a witch
But I knew it was time to leave
When she tapped her witch watch
MY LITTLE NIECE GOES TO HOGWARTS
My little niece goes to Hogwarts
She’s a witch and she’s excelling
But of all the subjects she takes
Her favorite one is spelling
TWITTER HALLOWEEN NIGHT
The invitation went out
To the twitter followers
About Halloween night
And the trick or treaters
It’s much safer than being
Out on the streets
And it’s better for you
To do twick or tweets
ARE YOU WEARING BLACK VELVET?
Are you wearing black velvet?
You look like the Black Queen
That’s so fitting for the season
I really do love Halloween
MY KIDS LOVE HALLOWEEN
My kids love Halloween
And not just trick or treat
We play lots of games
Especially Hide and Shriek
WHEN A VAMPIRE BIT
When a Vampire bit
A Snowman one night
They both ended up
With a case of frostbite
LOVE BITTEN HALLOWEEN
From the first moment
On that memorable first day
When I laid eyes on the Wiccan
All that I can say
Is that I was left as helpless
As a vampire with tooth decay
TWO WITCHES LIVED TOGETHER
Two witches lived together
When they were in the states
But there was nothing going on
They were just Broommates
I WAS STOOD AT THE BAR LAST NIGHT
I was stood at the bar last night
When a vampire gave me a fright
As I fully expected him to take a bite
But instead he ordered a blood light
WHAT TO GIVE ON HALLOWEEN
What to give on Halloween?
Is a no brainer in the end
Because everyone knows
Demons are a ghoul's best friend
IT’S NOT MY FAVOURITE HOLIDAY
It’s not my favourite holiday
And although opinions vary
I do really love Halloween
As I can eat, drink and be scary
IT WAS SO BIG AND ROUND
It was so big and round
Like a big orange bumpkin
It was a fat Jack-O-Lantern
Carved out of a plumpkin
WE WENT TO A FANCY DRESS PARTY # 2
We went to a fancy dress party
With a Hogwarts theme
There was me and my girlfriend
And her twin sister Irene
However after a drink or two
Alcohol caused a bit of a hitch
As with twin witches I couldn’t
Tell which witch was which
Monday, 4 November 2013
Tuesday, 22 October 2013
Tales of Love # 6
HAIR OF GOLD
Hair of gold
Falls in curls
Over amber skin
In perfect compliment
Like ripened corn
In a summer field
SHE SAID SHE FELT SO HELPLESSLY ALONE
She said she felt so helplessly alone
Like a lonely candle flickering in the dark
Then on the day when I came into her life
She said there was a discernable spark
And as if by a kind of magic, hey presto
We were instantly two candles in the dark
SO QUIET
So quiet
A perfect angel
So calm and serene
Soft eyes,
A gentle smile
As if from a dream
But beneath
The façade, things
Are not as they seem
So quiet
The perfect angel
She secretly aspires
Soft eyes,
A gentle smile
Mask her desires
But beneath
The façade, a little
Sinning is required
IN A QUIET PASSING TIME
In a quiet passing time
I look back on yesterday,
and wonder why it is
That I am so lonely today
YOU WERE MY ONE AND ONLY # 1
You were my one and only
My hearts song and melody
Now music has been banished
And I must suffer silently
YOU ARE MY ANGEL
You are my Angel
In the moonlight
Draped in lunar white
Where upon I steal
A midnight kiss
And I am in heaven
I AM NOT SPECIAL
I am not special
I have no fortune
I am average
I have no high station
I am ordinary
I am not an Adonis
But for some reason
I have won your heart
SINCE WE’VE BEEN APART
Since we’ve been apart
My wounded heart
Still bleeds for you
And I pray you’d love me too
I NEVER MEANT TO DO IT
I never meant to do it
But I did it with ease
In fact it was so simple
It was actually a breeze
So now can you fall?
In love with me please
I FIRST SAW YOU
I first saw you
As you were advancing
I smiled at you
As your eyes were glancing
And all at once
My heart was dancing
And in a moment
We were both romancing
Hair of gold
Falls in curls
Over amber skin
In perfect compliment
Like ripened corn
In a summer field
SHE SAID SHE FELT SO HELPLESSLY ALONE
She said she felt so helplessly alone
Like a lonely candle flickering in the dark
Then on the day when I came into her life
She said there was a discernable spark
And as if by a kind of magic, hey presto
We were instantly two candles in the dark
SO QUIET
So quiet
A perfect angel
So calm and serene
Soft eyes,
A gentle smile
As if from a dream
But beneath
The façade, things
Are not as they seem
So quiet
The perfect angel
She secretly aspires
Soft eyes,
A gentle smile
Mask her desires
But beneath
The façade, a little
Sinning is required
IN A QUIET PASSING TIME
In a quiet passing time
I look back on yesterday,
and wonder why it is
That I am so lonely today
YOU WERE MY ONE AND ONLY # 1
You were my one and only
My hearts song and melody
Now music has been banished
And I must suffer silently
YOU ARE MY ANGEL
You are my Angel
In the moonlight
Draped in lunar white
Where upon I steal
A midnight kiss
And I am in heaven
I AM NOT SPECIAL
I am not special
I have no fortune
I am average
I have no high station
I am ordinary
I am not an Adonis
But for some reason
I have won your heart
SINCE WE’VE BEEN APART
Since we’ve been apart
My wounded heart
Still bleeds for you
And I pray you’d love me too
I NEVER MEANT TO DO IT
I never meant to do it
But I did it with ease
In fact it was so simple
It was actually a breeze
So now can you fall?
In love with me please
I FIRST SAW YOU
I first saw you
As you were advancing
I smiled at you
As your eyes were glancing
And all at once
My heart was dancing
And in a moment
We were both romancing
True Nature # 1
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
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
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.
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