Short stories

Monday August 18th 2014.

They rode past me,
father and son, his little legs in short trousers and grey socks
pumping at the peddles, the wheels on his bike slowing at the bottom
of the small hill.

‘Sorry Dad.’ he
called out

Dad stopped and

‘Don’t worry’ he
called back whilst placing each foot on the ground, his big wheels no
longer moving

‘Come on, Granny will be waiting for us.’

I wondered where
they were going, was it a holiday? Did they come far? Did Granny
live alone?

I imagined an old
woman, the quintessentially English Granny, hair curled tight and
coloured with a soft blue rinse, her pinny over her floral dress kept
her clean whilst she baked fairy cakes for her only grandchild,
those little soft sponges in pretty cake cases the middle removed for
buttered cream and the wings of the cake displayed above; like a
fairy. The large kitchen smelled of home cooking whilst her big
calico tabby cat stretched his long limbs on the fluffy pillow by the
old Aga.

Large portraits of
distant relatives lined the walls of the long dark passageway from
the kitchen to the front parlour, they looked down in dusty hall,
serene and thoughtful. Ladies in bonnets with large bows tied under
their chins, their dresses flowing, layer upon layer of silky lace;
pearls glistened at their neck and dangled from their ears, the
painters touch making them so real you could almost reach out and
touch them. The gentlemen wore black jackets, the long tails
sweeping down their pin stripped legs, they rested on long canes,
some ornate with animal heads and others plain, one wore a beard as
white as driven snow, his blue eyes twinkled with merriment as his
arm supported the tall wide brimmed black hat that was tucked into
his body.

Granny heard the
distant tinkle of the door bell, the small metal hammer knocking
against the old bell. Many years ago a maid would have hurried to
the door wearing full length black dress with white lace mop cap and
apron, her face would be without make up but her skin would be bright
and clean, a lady’s maid for a large house; she would curtsey and
lower her eyes to the floor addressing the visitor,

‘Sir’ she would say
‘Madam is waiting in the parlour. May I take you coat?’

Granny looked up
from her baking, wiping her hands on her pinny and reached for her
cane, a simple

carved cane of warm walnut wood.

‘They are here’ she
spoke to the cat who just yawned and stretched, one sleepy eye opened
briefly before sleepily closing and curling back into a tight ball he
tucked his tail around his nose.

‘Grumpy Sebastian’
chided Granny ‘Coming.’ she called down the echoing hall, her cane
tapping on the stone floors.
Tuesday 19th August 2014
‘Coo – eee’ called Colin …. click the link to read more….

2 thoughts on “Short stories

  1. I want to know what happens next! Brilliant work Laney! x

    1. Thank you Caroline 🙂 What happens next…ummm…..oops that's the door…

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