September Flash A Day. Day 3: CASTING PROTECTION

©DavidVale

CASTING PROTECTION

Anthony thought I was mad the day I came home with the umbrella, a large colourful striped one that sat neatly in a hole in my cart. For years I had worked this spot. Shadowed under the tall apartment buildings on either side where the sun rarely reaches the ground. The wind gusts down Long Lane and flicks up the papers on sale, I use a peg to secure them. On Monday the chatter of women echoes above my head followed by the un-oiled squeaks from the pulleys. Lifting the tines of the umbrella to its full height it casts a shield over my wares. Anthony looked puzzled at me.

‘It’s to finally protect the paper’ I said

‘Protect it from what’ asked Anthony

Drip, drip, drip

‘Washing day’ I sighed

September Flash A Day. Day 2: TRADITION

© Cassie Tillitt

TRADITION

It had become a repeated ritual

the Saturday 10am start

 four old friends shared

and laughed at the memories

of this continuing  thirty years part

They chose to meet on the corner

buy papers  from  'ye olde tuck shop'

a quick skip and

a swing passed the bakers

for  a sausage n brown sauce filled cob

They parked themselves down

by the harbour

 on the bench that sat at the head

these days it seemed a bit smaller

the curse of the middle age spread

They smiled n chat while

they waited

for the sight they had come down to see

the water lay still like a mirror

conditions the best they could be

Sitting forward, Bob shouted

‘they’re coming

I  see the ripple that’s made by the oar

highlight of my week is this passing

by the women’s cox-less four’

©Mills Laine

September flash a day....Day 1: RETIREMENT

©DavidVale

RETIREMENT

John picked up the ride token before it escaped through the gap in the pier floor.

‘I’ll save that’ he thought, as he popped it into his pocket.

He loved looking through the slats to the undulating waves beneath, lit by the multi-coloured lights that adorned the pleasure park. This was his favourite time, closing time. The smell of burgers and candy-floss still hung in the air. The latest songs echoed around the empty rides. Chip papers floated on the cool sea breeze. For forty years he had walked the pier, the gate keys hanging idly from a chain on his belt. Tonight was to be his last, unsure of what the future held for him away from here. He slipped the large clanking chain through the gates and fixed the lock, shaking it, just to make sure!  Reaching up he twisted the bulb in the light that illuminates the entrance sign till it flickered on. Standing back he read the newly pasted poster.

CLOSED

KEEP OUT

DUE FOR DEMOLITION

©Mills Laine

Tinsel, Turkey and Tina Turner

Tinsel, Turkey and Tina Turner

‘Can’t believe you whipped your shoes off and went in’

Betty were standin’ at the door with her back to the driver. Looking up he sighed and gave me the thumbs up and a wink.

‘And why not, it’s my night away from home, it’s meant to be fun’ I said.

‘But it’s November, it’s dark and you’re…’

‘I’m what?’

‘Well I don’t like to say, ducky’

‘Well you’d better say. I’m what?  Too old to go paddlin’! Is that it?’

‘Well I certainly wouldn’t been seen doing it’

The driver were givin’ a wide-eyed look and shakin’ his head. It took me nearly all me strength not to laugh. But I held me reserve and tootled back to me seat…barefoot!

‘Honestly Jan, you don’t arf make me laugh’

‘Well she deserved it Pat, stupid stuck up woman that she is!’

I squatted down and wiped me feet with the tea-towel out me bag. Sittin’ up I saw that Betty had finished countin’ the heads of the returnees and were now tappin’ the driver on shoulder with one hand and had the other gripped tightly round a microphone.

‘You can get going in a minute Bob’

Bob gestured in agreement and started the engine.

‘Now ladies and gentleman…hello, one, two, testing, is this thing on Bob?’

‘Aye’

‘Oh yes, err hello, can I have your attention please?’

‘Oh no, not the bloody attention bit again’

Rose, two seats forward, twiddled with the volume on her hearin’ aid.

‘Am not listenin’ to her rattlin’ on again about stoppin’ for a pee break in half hour, bad enough we’re stoppin’ for tea-breaks in between, I’m sloshin’ around ‘ere like a water  filled balloon, giz us a nudge Mabel will ya when she’s sat down.’

‘Aye, will do ducky’

Rose gazed out the window, while Mabel rubbed her arthritic knees.

‘We should be arriving in Bramley in three quarters of an hour. Is that about right Bob?’

‘Aye’

‘We’ll stop then in case the need to… well, spend a penny takes any of you’

‘I would love to spend a penny if it TAKES you’

Pat slapped me gently on the arm whilst whisperin’ in her usual loud voice.

‘Jan stop it! You are a one, I’m sure you do it so she’ll hear you’

‘Don’t care if she does, pee and tea every half hour, silly bissom’

Forty-five minutes later Bob pulled into the Bramley Arms car park.

‘Ok folks, we’ll stop for fifteen minutes, tea and pee break.. ok? .we’ll be arriving at the Hillview Hotel in about an hour, dinner is due about eight. Is that right Bob?’

‘Aye’

‘So be back for six ok?’

Betty threw the microphone onto her seat, grabbed her handbag and was off the bus straight into the ladies, like a rat up a drainpipe.

‘I tell ya, that woman! Me and her. We will. Am tellin’ ya’

Rose’s hearin’ aid was back up to pin drop level. She sat shakin’ her head.

‘So hang on’ I said. ‘ we’re leavin’ ‘ere at six, gettin’ to the ‘otel be seven and eatin’ at eight...so at what point are we meant to be gerrin’ changed into these flamin’  costumes?’

Mine would take me at least half hour to get in to. And that’s not includin’ a shower . Ya see I decided to go as Tina Turner. Made me sen a gold dress n everythin’,  me daughter helped me pick the material. I’d searched all over town till I found a longish curly wig. I’d watched loads of videos of her. Oh aye she don’t arf  look good for her age.

‘So who you goin’ as?’

‘I’m simply the best!!’ I sang while standing up shaking me tush.

‘Who’s that supposed to be?’ laughed Pat.

I sat back down. Pat were never one for ‘avin’ a good memory except for where she’d left her ciggies. Usually on the bar next to the most flashin’ lookin’ fella that were there.  Not much luck on this trip though. We had to sort pal up with the over sixty’s from the next town.  This was our annual Turkey n Tinsel night out, it should have been just that, a night out but of course the ‘club committee’ i.e. Betty and her sidekick Susan decided it would be best if we stayed over.

‘Don’t fret Jan, dinner’s at nine, well it’s a buffet really’

Susan turned from her seat behind the driver. She was a timid little creature, who hung behind Betty like a shadow. It was a strange kind of friendship which I reckon were born off the back of the club. When me and Pat joined there were only five members including Susan and Betty. They were the young uns back then. The other three had formed the group sometime back in the seventie’s. They’d all shuffled off and left them two to get on wi it.

‘So what were Betty on with then?’ I said.

‘God knows, I think she’s got the wrong brochure or something’

I showed Pat the flimsy bit a glossy paper in me hand. The hotel on the front looked impressive; in reality the picture lied. Pat scanned the info inside.

‘Ah...yes, Turkey n Tinsel Cabaret Buffet. Nine pm, Oxford hall, Fancy dress optional.’

‘Bloody eight pm!! Stupid bissom’ I said

‘You did say we wanted a twin room didn’t ya Mabel?’

‘Of course, Rose...Why?

‘And it’s not next to ‘er is it?’

‘Well I don’t know do I’

‘Bloody hope not...here Susan!’

 ‘Yes Rose?’

‘You booked the rooms didn’t ya’

‘Yes Rose’

‘And are you sharin’ wit Betty?’

‘Yes Rose’

‘And...This is important! Have you booked our room to be the one next door to yours?’

‘No Rose, I remember you saying that you didn’t want to be next door to us’

‘Too bloody right I don’t’

‘So I put you opposite!’

Susan winked at me and got off the bus, grinnin’ like a crescent moon.

‘She did what!!!’ Rose shreaked.

Laughin’, I turned to Pat.

‘Ya see, told ya, Susan does have a sense of humour’

When Susan returned with Betty we were still laughin’ at Rose’s expense. She’d turned her hearin aid down again and were mumblin’ and did so for resta journey. It were just after seven when we arrived at Hillview Hotel. Giant floodlights lit it up like an escaped prisoner. It were great to get off that bus. Four hours sittin’ straight plays havoc on ya joints, even with the tea and pee breaks. Bob shifted the cases out from the hatches under the bus. Each took their own and headed for the main entrance.

‘Oh god I hope the bar’s open Jan, I could kill for a G n T’

‘Yeah I know what ya mean Pat, you goin’ to have a ciggie before we go in?’

‘Yeah I think I will’

With that, like rebellious teenagers we grabbed the handles of our suitcases and full of determination and bunions, marched off towards the smoker’s area. It were a slow paced march.

 A little after eight fifteen, me and Pat appeared outside the door of the Oxford Hall. There were large mirror on the wall and we stood checkin’ us out.

‘This material ain’t arf makin’ me skin itch Pat’

‘Stop stratchin’, ya makin’ ya arm red...watcha think hat or no hat?’

I looked at both suggestions, the hat did finish off the air hostess outfit...but the support stockins and sensible shoes gave it a...well let’s just say it were no ‘fly me’ statement.

‘Let me just nip out for a ciggie before we face that lot Jan, don’t think I could handle Rose as Mary Whitehouse without nicotine’

‘Yeah ok, but I’m not wantin’ to be long, ooh me feet are killin’ me in these heels’

Pat looked at my sensible shoes and the one inch high heel...so ok maybe sprayin’ ‘em gold were a bit over-the-top as she pointed out the paint splash on me ankle but they did match me dress.

‘Nice outfit Rose’ I said ten minutes later as we sat down at our table near the stage.

‘She’s turned her hearin’ aid down Jan, she don’t fancy listenin’ to the comedian that’s comin’ on’

Mabel pointed to the bill board. Lenny Brookemyer funny-man extraordinaire looked more like a bouncer in drag than a comic. He were on after a dance group and as it turned out were about as funny as a plastic coat-hanger. I nudged Pat and gestured if she wanted a ciggie. Relieved to escape we crossed the hotel foyer. 

‘Where you two going? I’ve been looking for Betty; you’ve not seen her have ya?’

Turnin’, me and Pat were faced with Dorothy complete with sparkly red shoes, a blonde wig and toy dog.

‘Lookin’ good Susan’ Pat said

‘Oh thanks Pat, you two look great’

‘Ta ducky, so where’s Betty then? Ya said ya were lookin’ for er’

‘No idea Jan, she left the room saying she’d see us downstairs, but that was over an hour ago’

‘Oh dunni worry about ‘er, she’s a big girl... in more ways than one! She can look after herself. Who she dressed as?’

‘Cher...’

‘CHER!!’ both me and Pat said together.

‘Yeah, long black curly wig, high heeled boots AND spandex!!!! It was not a pretty sight...anyway I’d best get back in there’ said Susan pointing towards the Oxford Hall.

Me and Pat just stood staring at each other, we both knew exactly what we were thinking. It just took a moment before the words came out.

            ‘Cher’ Pat said

            ‘Spandex?’ I said ‘I knew she were goin’ to dress up, but I were thinkin’ more Ethel Merman than Cher’

            ‘Definitely need that ciggie now Jan, don’t know if I could ever face Betty in spandex’

Headin’ outside, Pat rummaged in her bag for her fags. Findin’ em, she went in again for a light. It were then the flame appeared bein’ held in the hand of a rather dashin’ grey-haired gentleman.

‘Oh ta duck’ Pat said.

‘Duck? Did you just call me a duck, is that normal in your neck of the woods?’

I looked at Pat, waitin’ for an answer...silence! Her gaze were fixed, I giv her a quick shifty in the side and back to earth she came turnin’ red on re-entry. The man grinned. It were then I saw he were not on his own.

‘Oh hello’ I said

‘Hello’

He were tall, dark and handsome and if I’d bin thirty years younger I’d ‘ave told him so.

‘So what brings you beautiful ladies to Hillview?

‘Turkey and Tinsel, ain’t that right Pat’

‘Sorry what...oh yes! Turkey for Christmas dinner!’

 Pat had gone off into space again. I waved me hand in front of her face...nothin’!

‘You’ll have to excuse me friend here, she goes a bit loopy after a fag...’

‘Looks like he’s gone to the same place’

He nodded towards his friend, who was eye locked with Pat.

‘Yep looks like it’ I said.

‘So turkey and tinsel eh? sounds intriguing. A lot better than what we’ve got going on inside, I’m Tom by the way.’

‘Nice to meet ya Tom, I’m Jan.  Yeah turkey and tinsel aka The sixty plus Christmas doo, that’s turned into a free for all one night stay here, for fancy dress, bingo, and bed by ten’

‘Aha that explains the outfits’ 

‘What about you?’ I said.

‘Same’

We both laughed at that. He were a tall chap with a look of Howard Keel about him. He ‘ad brushed back silvery ‘air and wore a very flash waistcoat.

‘Here, what you two laughin’ about?’ said Pat.

‘Bed by ten’ Tom said.

Pat looked puzzled.

‘Right ‘ave you done with that fag yet? am gaggin’ for a drink.’ I said.

‘Nearly’

‘You wanting a drink? We got some bottles in the back of the van you’re welcome to pop over for a swig or two’

Tom were lookin’ towards me in a kinda elbow-in-the-ribs, one eye shut fashion. I felt meself goin’ red but before I could reply, a loud voice appeared.

‘Yoohoo hello girls!!’

Me and Pat turned. Good god, the sight that met our eyes...it were like Ann Widdecombe in a blonde wig and spandex.

‘Oh hello Betty! Nice outfit’ Pat said.

I were tempted to say something but bit me lip instead...I think it were shock, it’s not offen am lost for words.

‘Oh hello gentlemen, are you here with the other over sixty-ers?’

‘Err no, I’m Detective Sergeant Tom Rothmore and this is DC Geoff Baines.’

Both men were lookin’, both men looked stunned.

‘Oh you’re policemen, is there anything wrong? I’m sure our driver is well...’

‘Not at all, we were just about to nip over to the van with these young ladies for a quick one...’

‘Excuse me!!!’ Betty said.

‘It’s alright you can come too’

Me and Pat spun and looked at each other. Both our faces had the same – please say no – look on them.

‘Err no, we need to get inside, prizes for best fancy dress is coming up’

‘Well it will have to be a rain-check then’

Tom winked at me, took me hand and gently pressed his lips onto it. Pat and Geoff were exchangin’ bits o paper. They shook hands and we watched as they wandered off to the van.

‘Great timin’ Betty’ I said.

‘Yep bloody spot on!’ said Pat as we wandered back inside while ‘Cher’ totted off ahead.

‘So come on then, what were on that bit o paper?’

‘Phone number, it were easier than me tryin’ to put it in that mobile thing, I’ll get our Jem to do it when we get back, Geoff also put about us meetin’ them later for that drink!’

‘O eye, when?’ I said

‘In half hour, he told us to wait by the door to the Cambridge hall’

‘Best get this judgin’ over with then.’

Arf hour later, clutchin’ me rosette for second prize, we stood by the door opposite the Oxford hall. It swung open and Geoffs hand reached out for Pats and dragged her inside. I stood alone for a sec, not knowin’ what to do wit’ meself, when Tom came out.

‘Hello Jan, ah second prize, well deserved, are you ready for that drink now?’

‘Oooh I could murder a cuppa’ I said ‘but I’ll settle for a glass of white’

‘Come on then’ Tom said takin’ me by the hand. ‘I hope you can dance’

‘Well I used to do a mean jive but not so sure now days, its bin a while since I did any dancin’, let alone stay up past me bedtime’

‘There’ll be no early to bed for you tonight Tina!’

We both laughed as he pushed open the door to the Cambridge Hall.

            ‘And why not?’ I said ‘it’s my night away from home, it’s meant to be fun.’

©Mills Laine

Frosted Needles (warning explicit language)

The large steel door creaked and slammed shut as Adam climbed the last few steps to the roof. As he shuffled towards the railings the bitterly cold chill cut its way through his clothing. Heavy frost clung to every surface; only solitary thawed drops were allowed to escape. Adam shivered as one found its path through his layers to warm skin….hanging his head, he sighed.  Beneath him, frosted crystals shone with an orange aura, twinkling in the streetlights. It looked like glitter. He thought of a Christmas card that once stood on the mantle…he sighed again.  On the floor by the railings Adam spotted a small coin nestled in bed of frosted needles. He picked it up and looked at it. Lifting his head he gazed at his view; there was a calm warmth about it, all golden and at rest. For a while he stood completely motionless, the only movement being a tuft of his coal black hair twitching in the breeze…

‘Why are you sighing? You sad piece of shit! I suppose you think that by hanging your head down being miserable, that no one notices you. But they do notice…because you smell and you’re filthy. They notice because they know what you did!’

Looking over the edge, Adam noticed how close the ground seemed. He stroked the face on the coin.

‘Yeah go on flip it, heads you don’t, tails you do, at least then you’ll feel like you've got some fucking control…ha ha ha’

Heads

Adam tried to ignore the irritating verbal in his head. The voice pierced through his every waking thought. It dug deep into his dreams when he slept, if he slept. It had been his constant companion for the last few weeks and Adam was drained! His clothes were torn and filthy. Faded jeans covered thin white legs; a black t-shirt clung to his skinny torso. The hooded sweatshirt he wore as a jacket was as waterproof as a paper bag and not much warmer. The sleeves hid the intimacy he’d had with a razor once. His face was tear-stained from bloodshot eyes. The grime of the streets was five years thick and home was a corner of the roof-space.  He had reached that place in the dark where there were no more lights. Trying to control his thoughts Adam started to hum his favorite song…the verbal piped up again…

‘Humming? Seriously! Do you actually think that will shut me up, drown me out? What a waste of space you are. I suppose you think you can sing? You know what will shut me up’

Tails

The wind was picking up a little, a layer of snow thick enough for a covering had settled while he’d been stood there. The town below echoed that on the Christmas card, all peaceful and calm. Closing his eyes, he remembered, snow angels, ice-dens and icicles as ‘long as your arm’ and how the snow suffocated all that lay beneath it…he dropped his head again and sighed.

‘Oh there you go being all sentimental…you stupid prick! Bloody snow-angels… what a joke!!...I remember you as a boy!!! Pathetic little git who wet himself all the time…Smelly Wiggins… yeah that’s what they called you…’

Heads

Adam thought back to his childhood. Verbal was right! The local kids were cruel, most kids are. They didn't know what kind of life he was living. They didn’t see what he saw. To them he was just a tatty kid. Deprived of the things that make children smile; toys, sweets, holidays, clothes, shoes, food and love.

There was a happier time, him and mum had just moved into the town and he was starting a new school. The house was clean, mum was clean; he was clean. Then the dickhead came, then Sally came, then..., Adam signed again. From that moment all memories of being happy always included Sally.

‘What’s that? You happy! When? Never… that’s when!! As long as I've known you ain't ever been happy…you’re just a sad little prick. Ah yes Sally! Pretty little thing, you two were close. She idolized you, shame! She knows what you did.  Can you live with that...now you’re all alone?’

Tails

The crap wasn't obvious at first, the odd shouting spat and a broken window or two. Things were ok. It was around the time Sally started walking that it changed. The drink, the names, the shouts, the slaps, pushes, punches, tears and pain all rained down on three of them. The dickhead would always be bringing boxes of stolen stuff home. Mum would always be making herself look beautiful just so he could call her a slag and then after it would be him, Adam, holding her while she’d cried. He remembered the first time his mum scarred her skin. The first time he saw her with a black eye and the first time he felt the same. He stopped going to school. He stayed at home, helped look after Sally, while mum slept off the drunken abuse from the night before.  Adam remembered that Christmas…the last one at home …

‘Yeah Christmas, what started that fight? You know…that fight!!! That moment! What was it that pushed that button? You know they will find him…you didn't hide the body right, cause you’re a fucking idiot. Five years of weather will reveal it…then they will find you’

Tails

Closing his eyes again Adam pictured the knife, upright in the body on the living room floor. Christmas was trashed but the presents remained wrapped. Mum had run out with Sally when the fight began. When they returned, both men were gone. On Boxing Day when Adam came back, his mum went for him. Slapping his face while she screamed, she believed the dickhead had just left her and it was his fault. For all his pleading no amount of truth broke through the beaten down woman’s head. Without a goodbye, Adam left…

‘She never believed you. She blamed you!!! She just thinks he left, what if she knew the truth, maybe she does know! You never even said goodbye to Sally…bet she hates you now. What would she say if she saw you, you sad bleeding twat…she’s better off without you!’

Tails

Adjusting his grip, Adam felt the metal frozen to his skin…a gentle pull and the fresh breeze cut though the new reddened sore on his palm.

‘Oh now look what you've done you stupid git. Fucking freeze burn. Go on! I see you looking…thinking that will shut me up…go on!!.........let go…

Tails

Verbal’s tone had taken a lower sinister feel to it…like a razor sharp whisper. Adam opened his eyes and looked down. There were lights now coming from a small café a short distance away. He could smell coffee and bacon. Smoke and steam were illuminated by the coldness in the air. The day was awakening and Adam knew it was time to move on.

****************************

Sticking her nose over the polystyrene cup, Sally inhaled the aroma of her hot coffee. Sitting on the wide window ledge she leaned back and glanced up at the falling snow. She smiled remembering when she was little. The ice dens in the garden, games invented by Adam to hide from the bad stuff indoors. They made snow angels, his little angel Adam would say. For as far back as she could remember it was always her and Adam. Mum was asleep a lot during the day and the waste of space she shacked up with walked through them like they didn't exist…until that Christmas…

Adam had been a memory for years; her social worker said that he’d gone off the radar…whatever that meant? She knew she missed him. Even more on days like this. She wasn't angry anymore that he’d left, she just thought of him often. It had been rough. Mum left leaving Sally behind, she was sixteen; it turned out to be a blessing. With Adams help Sally had grown up savvy, she was smart, a hard worker. This knowledge had served her well…

Sally loved town on mornings like this. She glanced down the road. The soft white blanket wrapped itself over the ground, hiding the gloomy littered speckled streets. The rain that fell the day before had frozen overnight and glistening shards hugged to every surface. A golden glow added a fire like heat. There was a peace that only a select group of eyes saw. Sally was one of the lucky ones. The first of the days transport were leaving tracks in the fresh virgin snow. The small café on the corner had just opened. Familiar faces greeted her as she smiled a ‘hi’ at them. Every morning Sally brought her coffee here. Every morning she saw the same people. Every morning she sat on the same ledge and every morning was the same…until…

Sally looked at the small coin nestling on a bed of frosted needles; she looked up to see a face looking back.

‘What is it?’ a voice called.

‘Heads’ Sally replied.

©Mills Laine

Phoenix

PHOENIX

 ‘You flat-lined for 19 seconds’ the gentle handed man- who was sat on the edge of my bed - said.

Not the usual response you expect when waking up. But there he was, gently tapping my hand. Informing me that the day before...I died! But he and his colleague had saved me. Now I know what you must be thinking...what did I die of? Well blood loss...I think! The gentle handed man did say I also needed a full blood transfusion. So I assume that ‘death’ happened around the same time. The pain in my chest was from the defibrillator. Never did I think when seeing it being used on TV. That it would hurt so bloody much. I felt like someone had knelt on my chest for a lifetime.

So there I was lying in bed being tapped on the hand whilst trying to get my head round my ‘death’. Have you ever stopped still and counted 19 seconds...it takes ages!! I did wonder if at any point the gentle handed man or his colleague thought...

‘Oh sod it, she’s dead...lets just leave it, we can be in the pub by 12’

I have to admit. I’m very glad that they chose not to ‘sod it’. I think I fell in love with that gentle handed man on my bed. He told me I had second chance at life and must make every bit of his life-saving certificate count. So I lay there thinking about what I could do. Being as right now I couldn’t even tell if I was peeing myself or not. The future did not look bright.

The gentle handed man has gone on his rounds. He’s left me lying, thinking, planning, and weighing up the pros and cons of a lifestyle ‘change’. I was thinking my life had changed. No longer could I develop a little person inside me. There was no womb for it. I’d spent decades trying with no success. I’d had years of pain from the development of a lesser known disease I caught after the birth of my son. Now I was relieved.

Later that day, I attempted to eat some ‘nutritious food’ which basically involved slurping down some red jelly stuff and being sick afterwards. Even so I did manage to roll myself out of bed. Whilst attached by a thin clear tube to the hat-stand that housed a bag of fluid. This clear liquid had been dripping into my arm ever since my ‘death’. Hat-stand had become a permanent fixture. I loved Hat-Stand with its bag of fluid. Which was good as it was to be my companion for the next few days. Anyway, after rolling out of bed...I went to the shower room. Lifting the yucky nightie I had to wear for modesty sakes. I glanced at the black n blue mess that was my stomach. I cried.

The event that followed reminded me of potty training my son, although could have done without the ‘how to’ instructions. The need to go but endless waiting as the body refuses to let go. Needless to say a long while later I emerged. Relieved!

I’d been told by the gentle handed man. I needed to walk around, not lie in bed all the time. My brain was saying ‘hang on a cotton pigging minute...I did die you know, in bed is exactly where I want to be’. But the gentle handed man insisted...telling the blue clothed woman not to feed me till I’d walked. So Hat-Stand and I went for a walk. All the way to the end of the corridor and all the way back again. A forty foot round trip that in future would take me a few minutes. Today however...half an hour! Passing the windows of my shared room, I could see sad, painful looks. Sick women lying on their beds, attempting to watch TV with no sound as one had just been brought back from theatre...she was snoring!

At lunchtime I was sat at the table awaiting my walks reward. A large male entered with a silver trolley that smelt great. As I died the day before, my lunch was the choice of whomever. It comprised of brown stuff next to white stuff. A glass of juice, at least I think it was juice, and a pot of red jelly like stuff. I gave that a miss. I played with my ‘food’ like I was 6 years old again. Childlike, I made swirly patterns by mixing the brown and white stuff together to make lighter brown stuff. Painkillers rock!

At 2 o’ clock a woman in white came in. She turned off the silent TV. Closed the curtains and informed us that it was ‘nap time’. Sixty minutes rest before the families arrive. As I had been ‘active’ the thought of going back to sleep was annoying. I told the woman in white that I didn’t want to sleep as I had slept and died yesterday. Today with the help of painkillers I wanted to live. She was having none of it. I napped.

When I woke, I asked if it was possible to go for a shower. Yellow stuff was coating my black n blue stomach. I felt mucky, dirty, like I’d been buried in custard. It had got into all the cracks. ‘If you’re careful of your stitches’ the blue clothed woman said. Hat-stand and I showered.

The gentle handed man came back just before the next round of red jelly stuff. He sat on the edge of my bed. He asked me how I’m feeling and had I walked, eaten and been to the bathroom. He is so polite. I love him. I said I felt ok but in a lot of pain. He replied with ‘take it easy, don’t rush, and give yourself time to heal’. I have all the time in the world...I said.  

The large male with the silver trolley passed the gentle handed man in the doorway. I walked to the table and waited. The six year old inside already had knife n fork in hand, waiting to mix and mash the colours to make yuck! The adult outside was hoping there were other colours being served. Who got their wish? Yes you guessed it! YUCK!

The shared room takes on a mystical appearance in the evening hours. The snorer was awake but quiet. The TV had some volume but only if you were sat under it.  The hands on the clock counted down to family time.  I wondered if there was somewhere I could go. Somewhere quiet, away from families. I didn’t want to nap. I didn’t want to be visited. I wanted to think. I wanted to plan. The fire exit door brought a welcomed cool breeze.

The families had gone when I returned to the shared room. The TV was silent. The snorer was well....snoring! Jigsaws and books filled the spaces in the other women’s heads. I sat on my bed. I lay a hand on my stomach. The painkillers had worn off enough for me to feel pain.  I cried.

The woman in blue brought my daily pills and changed the bag on Hat-Stand. I lay quietly on my bed till the warm pill blanket covered me. I closed my eyes. The gentle handed man would be here soon. My mood lifted.

The gentle-handed man’s voice was kind and soft.

‘How do you feel?’ he whispered.

I opened my eyes.

‘Alive’ I said.

©Mills Laine

Waiting

Waiting

The small envelope on Alice’s phone spun to show a text had been sent. She sat back in her seat gazing out the window. In that instant she regretted sending it. If only she could stop it arriving at the other mobile. But it was too late. It had gone. Now all she could do was wait for an answer... if there was one!

Alice grabbed another coffee. Returning to her seat she checked her phone again. No messages! Daydreaming she thought about Thursday past......

            She’d spent the morning studying for a forthcoming exam.  The afternoon was filled chatting with friends over coffee. Alice was excited about the night’s events. She was off to the pub with her roommate for its live music. One band in particular!

Alice smiled as she thought about Daniel the bassist. His cute face she first saw back in the summer. How she’d cheekily asked her friend to ‘go get him to sign’ the band’s CD. And how Daniel had not just wrote his signature on the side with the others. But a whole message on the blank side.

‘To Alice, thanks for listening, hope to see you at the next one, love Daniel x’

The ‘next’ one Alice missed and the one after that. Other commitments had come first. When she next saw Daniel it was last Thursday. The cold winter chill had left crystals on the ground. There was a cool breeze and icy drizzle. A text from her roommate and she was on her way to the pub. Alice stood outside waiting. Lighting a cigarette she composed herself. Alice looked round for her roommate; the text said she’d be there in 10 minutes. That was 15 minutes ago. Nerves were getting the better of her, although she didn’t know why. It had been three months since she’d seen him. He probably had a girlfriend now and had forgotten all about her.

Alice’s roommate arrived a minute later. They descended the stairs into the seductive atmosphere below. With its alcohol branded mirrors. Artwork from local artists and signed album covers from bands that had played there over the years. Heading straight to the bar, they toasted the evening with a drink. Alice drank hers down and ordered another. ‘Dutch courage’ she stated. Her roommate smiled a knowing smile that said Alice was falling in love. Alice of course had no idea.

A drink or two later they were joined by the band. Daniel was there being as cute as ever.  With his shaven head, beefy build and a shy look in his eye. Alice was sure he could tell exactly what was on her mind. As if ‘you’re cute as hell’ was written all over her face. Wandering down to the stage, she watched as they set up for the sound check. Alice loved their music and the bass especially.

When they had finished, Geoff and Daniel went out for a fag. Alice joined them. It was still raining. Looking round, the city was busy with Thursday night pub goers. Dodging cars, they crossed the street in the hope of finding somewhere dry to smoke. The other side of the road offered nothing but Daniel spotted a vacant doorway. Reaching out for Alice's hand he quickly ran back across the road to the door with her in tow. Alice totted on her heels.

Now dry. They chatted about the band, music, and the weather. Alice just wanted Daniel to hold her hand again. The electricity from the last time was tingling all over her body. She tried not to stare at him and acted normal: well as normal as she could. This all proved one thing...there was no way he’d have held her hand if there was a girlfriend. Alice smiled a relieved but giggly smile.

Back inside the band got ready to play. After getting a drink Alice positioned herself to the left of the stage. She had a perfect view across to the right side where Daniel was loosening his fingers waiting for the nod to start.

‘Boom’

The music was deafening. But Alice loved it. She danced and swayed. Dreamily she watched Daniel as he plucked the deep notes out of the bass. And when he started to sing she swooned. The deep seductive tones made the hairs on her neck stand up. ‘I will have this man’ she whispered to her roommate. Her roommate smiled that knowing smile again.

‘Yeah...if he fits in with your “ok to date” age thing’ she said.

Of course, Alice HAD thought of this. She’d halved her age and added seven.

‘As long as he’s over 27’ Alice informed her roommate. ‘Then he’s fair game’

It turned out that Daniel was 30. Alice grinned at the news but was aware that the age difference might be a problem for him, unless of course he was into older women! The drinks flowed freely and her Dutch courage grew. Alice waited for the band to finish with the full intention of spending the rest of the night flirting like mad with Daniel. The last song reached the end and Alice’s heart skipped a beat or two. As the band came off stage, Alice prepared to say something only to be met by Daniel’s eyes.

‘Fancy a fag?’ he said.

‘Yeah ok,’ Alice replied glancing over at her roommate with a childlike excited grin and a very noticeable glint in her eye.  

Taking her hand Daniel led the way. It was still raining outside. A queue of people stood at a nearby bus stop waiting for taxis. The smell of fresh chips floated out from the chip shop next door. Loads of people were bustling about working out the best way to get home. Some staggered around whilst others sat on the wet pavement. In the same vacant doorway, Alice and Daniel chatted about nothing and everything. Neither noticed time passing. Neither cared.

When Daniel’s mobile rang, they both jumped. It was Geoff wondering where they were as they had been ‘gone’ for ages and he was ready to head back the 70 miles to their home. Alice’s heart sank at the thought of Daniel leaving; she had no idea when or if she would see him again. What she didn’t know then was Daniel was thinking the same.

‘We better head back inside’ Alice said

‘Yeah’ replied Daniel.

Taking her hand, they walked slowly back towards the pub. Half-way Daniel stopped.

‘I suppose I’d better kiss you’ he said.

‘Yeah suppose so,’ Alice replied.

Daniel slid his one hand around Alices waist; the other gently held her face. As their lips touched the world stopped, there was no sound, even the rain hung motionless in the air. Endlessly they kissed.

For the following week Alice had talked the ears off her roommate about that kiss. Was it a drunken one? Would there be any more? It didn’t ‘feel’ like a drunken one. I wasn’t that drunk!! Was I? It had taken 7 full days of texting different people to get Daniel’s number. Thanks to Geoff she now had it.

‘Hi Daniel, got ur num off Geoff, hope u don’t mind. wanted to let u know i really enjoyed that kiss last week.. Alice J’

Ding-ding...ding-ding.

Alice’s mobile vibrated on the table dragging her back to the present. Her heart skipped a beat. The little envelope sign flashed like a beacon and nervously she clicked to open it.

‘Hi Alice, no i don’t mind. i enjoyed that kiss too, thought about nothing else J Daniel x’

Happily relieved Alice clicked reply.

©Mills Laine