Little pieces of Morgen's fiction

Category Archives: romance

Police escort

227 police car 161610Watching the policeman in her rear view mirror, Rosie clicked the button to release the central locking and got out the car.

“Surprised you got here at all,” he said softly, kicking her flat tyre.

Rosie had watched enough TV to know his American accent to be Californian. “Me too,” she said, not meaning the car.

“But we’ll have away in no time.”

“No hurry,” she said and hoped he’d take all day. With the choice of views being him or the sea she could think of nowhere else she’d rather be.

“Do you have a spare?”

“No,” she said, knowing that her model of car didn’t come with one. “I thought they had to, by law, but apparently…”

“No problem,” he said. “You’re travelling a bit back-heavy? Got a body in there?” He laughed, exposing brilliant white teeth.

Rosie had never been good at spontaneous laughter and didn’t think now was the time to try, so just smiled and shook her head. “Moving house.”

“Oh, all your worldly possessions.”

“Yes,” she said quietly, picturing the heavy old chest that took up most of the boot. The man stopped smiling.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK, really it is. New life, new start.”

“New man.”

Rosie didn’t reply.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “just here to fix your wheel. I’m new… I’ll shut up now and…”

“It’s OK, really it… I’ve said that already.”

“Don’t be nervous. It’s the uniform, I know, even makes me nervous.”

She laughed then, a natural laugh, and enjoyed it.

“That’s better,” the man said and held out his hand. “Bryan… Josh Bryan.”

As Rosie looked at him, she imagined him not in his uniform but in a dinner suit, sipping a cocktail that had been shaken not stirred, with a gun tucked discreetly under his jacket.

“I have some stuff in my trunk that’ll fix your car… what is it you Brits say? In a jiffy?

Rosie laughed again. “We’ve not said that since Jeeves and Wooster.”

“PG Wodehouse! You read?”

“I do… try to, when I have time.”

“I love the old ones. Really funny. Not as far back as Jane Austen, the romance, but…”

“You don’t like romance?” Rosie surprised them both with that question. “I mean, the classics.”

“20th Century is as old as I get. Still living there so my wife says.”

Rosie’s shoulders slumped.

“Ex wife, I should say. She’s still in the States. Couldn’t see why I would want to live here, but just look… the sea, the beach, the sun…”

“But don’t you have all that in California?”

“How did you know? Oh, the accent. Giveaway isn’t it. We do but it’s a different kind of sun. It’s… anyway, you’ll be wanting to go and we do need to fix your car.”

“We do.”

She watched him go the back of his patrol car, return with a yellow and black can, connect the tube to the air valve then reinflate the tyre. “Is that it?” she asked when he screwed the caps back on both the tyre and can.

“Not permanent. Should get you to the gas station.”

“Oh.”

“Of course, you won’t know one, will you? I’m finishing in a minute anyway, you can follow me.”

“Really?”

“Sure. There’s one just down from the PD… I mean police station, just down the road from the garage not gas station. I said I was new.”

Rosie smiled. “Thank you for everything. You’re very kind.”

Josh nodded and they returned to their cars.

Rosie followed him at just below the speed limit, without the sirens she’d hoped for but knew wouldn’t be warranted. It’s not every day you get a police escort and Rosie hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

***

Photography courtesy of morguefile.com.

** NEW!! You can now subscribe to the mixed blog on your Kindle / Kindle app!

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You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything. You can contact me and find me on the internetview my Books (including my debut novel, which is being serialised on Novel Nights In!) and I also have a blog creation / maintenance service especially for, but not limited to, writers. If you like this blog, you can help me keep it running by donating and choose an optional free eBook.

For writers / readers willing to give feedback and / or writers wanting feedback, take a look at this blog’s Feedback page.

As I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t unfortunately review books but I have a list of those who do. If there’s anything you’d like to take part in, take a look at Opportunities on this blog.

I welcome items for critique for the online writing groups listed below:

Morgen’s Online Non-Fiction Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Novel Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Poetry Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Script Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Short Story Writing Group

We look forward to reading your comments.


Ocean Drive

226 swift 126469As Rosie drove over the hill and caught her first sight of the sea, The Lighthouse Family’s ‘Ocean Drive’ was playing on the radio. ‘It’s a sign,” she said to Bertie, her tabby, now meowing from his carrier on the passenger seat of her bright yellow Suzuki Swift.

Escaping Trevor had taken seven years and nothing was going to spoil this moment. Looking in her rear view mirror at a clear road, she pulled into a layby and onto uneven gravel.

She sat for a few minutes, just thinking, staring at the cloudless sky and blue sea, a postcard in the making. Fishing around in her handbag, she found her camera. She’d come up here, she decided, whenever she could, at… she looked at the dashboard clock… midday, and take a photograph regardless of the weather. They’d remind her that however gloomy the photographs or things got, this had been the perfect start to the rest of her life.

Looking through the lens she was about to take the shot when there was a tap at the window. She flinched and dropped the camera into the footwell. She knew she had to turn round, had to look through the window, had to see the face.

“Be strong,” she whispered then flinched again as a second tap came.

Checking the central locking, which she knew to be secure, she slowly turned to her right and looked at the face. Heart thumping, Rosie recognised the uniform. “Oh no!” she said. Bertie whined in unison.

The man pointed down at the ground and said something inaudible.

Rosie pressed the button for the window, moved it down a couple of inches, but said nothing.

“Madam,” the man said, “you have a flat tyre. Want me to change it for you?”

Rosie looked at the stranger’s dark skin, pale green eyes and broad white smile, and knew she was going to like living by the sea.

***

Photography courtesy of morguefile.com.

** NEW!! You can now subscribe to the mixed blog on your Kindle / Kindle app!

See http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B008E88JN0

or http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008E88JN0 for outside the UK **

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything. You can contact me and find me on the internetview my Books (including my debut novel, which is being serialised on Novel Nights In!) and I also have a blog creation / maintenance service especially for, but not limited to, writers. If you like this blog, you can help me keep it running by donating and choose an optional free eBook.

For writers / readers willing to give feedback and / or writers wanting feedback, take a look at this blog’s Feedback page.

As I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t unfortunately review books but I have a list of those who do. If there’s anything you’d like to take part in, take a look at Opportunities on this blog.

I welcome items for critique for the online writing groups listed below:

Morgen’s Online Non-Fiction Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Novel Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Poetry Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Script Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Short Story Writing Group

We look forward to reading your comments.


A lot to learn

There was something about being a city vet that always appealed to Mark, something about the delight on the children’s faces when they saw a live animal, bigger than the stick insects, gerbils or cats they lived with.

Nothing, however, had prepared him for Brady ‘What’s that?’ Smith.

*

“No-one will take you seriously if you wear an Eyeore tie,” Emily, Mark’s girlfriend, had said that morning.

“I don’t want them to take me seriously, they’re children.”

“What about their teachers? Aren’t you supposed to be setting a good example?”

“AA Milne, Emily. There’s nothing more wholesome than Winnie the Pooh.”

“Eyeore.”

“Exactly.”

With that she’d kissed him goodbye and gone off to her first day with Clampett, Taylor and Browne.

Mark rinsed his cereal bowl, grabbed his black bag, dropped the flat’s Yale latch, then locked above and below it, something they’d never had to do at Broughton Heath.

As newlyweds they had little to steal but if the place didn’t look secure it was an open invitation – or so said Nick and Rachel who’d moved to London a couple of years before, and whose neighbours had both been burgled.

So after checks bordering on OCD, Mark took the no.27 bus making a mental note of the route so he could walk it home.

Entering the surgery immediately felt like home and Mark knew he’d made the right decision.

“Morning, Mark,” his new boss, Tom Sanderson, said before sipping a cup of steaming black coffee. “Want one?”

“Please.”

“If you’re quick, Josie will get it for you… kitchen on the left, from then on you make your own. We all do.”

“Sure. Thanks, Tom.”

“Good to have you on board. We’ve got Roehill Juniors today.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Tell me that again later and I’ll buy you a pint.”

“Deal,” Mark said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

*

Mug in hand, Mark was given a guided tour of the complex then shown to his office and given his itinerary for the day, with 10am ’til noon blocked out for the school visit. This left four early slots for patients; Muffin, a sock-swallowing Beagle; Roger, a sneezing rabbit (who it turns out was allergic to carrots); Daisy the Jack Russell for her first inoculations; and Henry the fat hamster who turned out to Henrietta and fat for a very specific reason.

Mark was writing up Henrietta’s notes when he heard loud voices coming from the car park. Pulling up his blind, he saw a congregation of royal blue-uniformed children running in circles, waving their hands and a couple playing patty cake. There were two teachers with them, a tall blonde lady and a shorter black woman who stopped suddenly, making a couple of the children bump into her, then blew a whistle, the children immediately standing to attention. With a click of her fingers the children formed an orderly line and followed her and her colleague round the corner, towards the building’s front door. Knowing he had a minute or two at most, he finished his notes, screen-locked the computer, and headed out into reception to meet them.

The children were standing gazing up their teachers, the blonde woman talking to one of the receptionists, Sylvie, who was pointing in Mark’s direction.

“Thanks Sylvie,” Mark said, and with a swoop of his arms, said, “Do follow me, ladies and gentlemen,” and the teachers escorted the children, one adult at either end.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAMark walked past his office and the consulting rooms, and through a back door. Some of the children gasped and looked around at the array of animals; the pigs, cows and chickens being the nearest enclosures. Mark turned to the two teachers. “Good morning, I’m Mark Sullivan. I’ll be your guide for today. Any questions at all just let me know.”

“By raising your hand,” the blonde teacher said to the group, then turned to Mark. “Erin Talbot, Mrs, and this is Mrs Jackson.”

“Pleased to meet you Mrs Talbot, Mrs Jackson.”

Mrs Jackson smiled briefly then clicked her fingers at a young boy who had started to wander off. “Keep in the group, Brady.”

The boy duly returned but looked around him rather than at her.

Unsure as to what the children wanted to know, Mark showed them the first pen, of a variety of chickens, and explained the different species, ensuring he didn’t get too technical.

The pigs followed next and while some of the children stayed with Mark, the rest went on to the cows with their two teachers.

Brady stood closest to the pigs, in front of Mark, and started emulating their noises.

“Very good… Brady, is it?”

The boy nodded.

“You like pigs?” Mark asked.

The boy shrugged his shoulders.

“You don’t know?”

Brady shook his head.

“I like pigs,” Mark said.

The boy said nothing but looked up at Mark.

“Do you eat bacon?”

The boy nodded eagerly.

“Ham sandwiches.”

He nodded again.

“Then you like pigs,” Mark said, trying to be helpful.

The boy frowned.

“Bacon… ham… come from pigs and…” Mark stopped talking when the boy screwed up his face and started bawling. Mark went to crouch down to him, to console him, but Brady ran towards Mrs Talbot and buried his face in her skirt.

Mrs Jackson stormed over to Mark. “What have you done?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs Jackson but he didn’t seem to know what a pig was.”

“And you told him?”

“I am a vet.”

“And he’s just a boy.”

As Mark looked at Brady, he realised he had a lot to learn about children before he and Emily started a family.

***

Photography courtesy of morguefile.com.

** NEW!! You can now subscribe to the mixed blog on your Kindle / Kindle app!

See http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B008E88JN0

or http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008E88JN0 for outside the UK **

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything. You can contact me and find me on the internetview my Books (including my debut novel, which is being serialised on Novel Nights In!) and I also have a blog creation / maintenance service especially for, but not limited to, writers. If you like this blog, you can help me keep it running by donating and choose an optional free eBook.

For writers / readers willing to give feedback and / or writers wanting feedback, take a look at this blog’s Feedback page.

As I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t unfortunately review books but I have a list of those who do. If there’s anything you’d like to take part in, take a look at Opportunities on this blog.

I welcome items for critique for the online writing groups listed below:

Morgen’s Online Non-Fiction Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Novel Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Poetry Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Script Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Short Story Writing Group

We look forward to reading your comments.

 


Plenty more fish

31 fish 41027“Plenty more fish in the sea.”

You know you’ll lose your temper if she says that one more time but you nod, not looking up from the magazine you’re reading, and change the subject. Tom’s the reason why you’re back living with your mother, and you don’t want to be reminded of either. “Nancy said there might be a job going at Al Fresco.”

“You’re going to be a waitress?”

“Better than nothing, mum.”

“It’s a start, I suppose.”

You loved being a waitress while you were at university and it doesn’t phase you to do it again – you’ve never been afraid of hard work – but…

“Of course, your father would have wanted better for you.”

He would, and it does make life easier that he’s no longer around, but out of the two of them, you know it’s him you’d rather have standing by the kitchen sink drying the dishes you washed.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone new there.”

Not quite ‘plenty more fish’ but it grates all the same. Everything about her grates but you can’t afford a B&B and don’t want to impose on friends, so you pull your weight and muddle along, spending as much time with Nancy as you can.

Her name flashes up on your phone. “Hiya.”

“Hi. I’ve spoken to Max.”

You wait for her to continue. She doesn’t. “Nance!”

“Sorry. I thought he was… never mind.”

“And?”

“Er, yeah. He said come in at six and he’ll give you a trial run.”

“What?”

“Six. Trial run.”

“What about an interview? Doesn’t he even want to see my CV?”

“Hold on.” Nancy covers the phone for a few seconds. “He says bring it, but it’s only a piece of paper. Said it’s all about ability and personality. Don’t drop anything, impress the customers, impress him and it’s yours.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. He’s not a red tape guy. Gotta go. See you at six.”

“See you… and thanks.”

“No problem. Will be great to see more of you.”

You press the red icon, and clutch the phone.

“Good news?” the voice over your shoulder asks.

Without turning round, you reply. “Yes, I have to be there at six.”

“Good,” she says and disappears upstairs.

You stick out your tongue then smile. This is the best news you’ve had in a while. You’ve never met Max but figure that if Nancy can handle him then he can’t be too bad. The only Maxs you know are off the TV; the chauffeur from Hart to Hart, and Bradley’s father on Eastenders. You never knew what Tanya saw in him but then you can say that about you and Tom now. Easy to think in hindsight. A college crush gone serious then gone wrong. The teacher : student relationship that rarely works.

*

Nancy beams. “You look great!”

You look down at your plain white shirt, black skirt and comfy black shoes. You want to say “This old thing?” but you’d cut the labels off less than an hour before. “Thanks, Nance.”

“OK. Come on. Let’s introduce you to the great man.”

You take a deep breath as you follow her through the double-swing kitchen doors. Releasing your breath comes out as a cough as Max holds out his hand. He’s a little older than you, nearer Bradley’s dad than the chauffeur, but much better looking and a confident, rather than sleazy, smile.

“Sorry,” you say, wiping your palm on your skirt and hold out your hand.

He laughs and shakes it. “You’ve seen Gordon Ramsay on TV?”

You nod, slowly lowering your hand as he releases it.

“He’s a pussy cat compared with me.”

You go to say something about how you’ve always thought him not that bad, but Max continues. “Only joking. I do expect you to work hard but we play hard too. Have a laugh and a joke by all means but not out there.” He points towards the restaurant’s seating area. “Six to midnight, Thursday to Saturday and Monday. Tuesday lunchtimes ten ’til four. Wednesday and Sunday off. OK?”

“OK, but…”

“But?”

“You’ve not seen me work yet.”

Max laughs. “Not here, sure, but you worked at Tantés, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I did. How…” Then it dawns on you that you have seen him before, served him before. You look at Nancy and blush.

***

Picture above courtesy of morguefile.com. 5PM Fiction returns tomorrow.

** NEW!! You can now subscribe to the mixed blog on your Kindle / Kindle app!

See http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B008E88JN0

or http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008E88JN0 for outside the UK **

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything. You can contact me and find me on the internetview my Books (including my debut novel, which is being serialised on Novel Nights In!) and I also have a blog creation / maintenance service especially for, but not limited to, writers. If you like this blog, you can help me keep it running by donating and choose an optional free eBook.

For writers / readers willing to give feedback and / or writers wanting feedback, take a look at this blog’s Feedback page.

As I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t unfortunately review books but I have a list of those who do. If there’s anything you’d like to take part in, take a look at Opportunities on this blog.

I welcome items for critique for the online writing groups listed below:

Morgen’s Online Non-Fiction Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Novel Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Poetry Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Script Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Short Story Writing Group

We look forward to reading your comments.


Talking when we could be walking

“Oh no! Is it really eleven already?”

“You’ve got plenty of time.”

“Dad, I’m supposed to be there at midday.”

“And only it’s a ten-minute drive. Fifty minutes easily.”

“I don’t want to be there on the dot! I want to be a bit early.”

29 bride 182383“Brides aren’t supposed to be early. It’s tradition.”

“Well, I certainly don’t want to be late. What time is the car booked for?”

“Eleven. You know that. It’s downstairs but we have it until it drops you and Alex at the reception.”

“Have you spoken to Alex today?”

“No, Suzie. Why would I?”

“Just to check that everything’s OK.”

“It’ll be fine. Stop panicking.”

“Something’s going to go wrong. I can feel it.”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong. You’re a secretary. Everything’s precision-timed.”

“But I should have been ready by now.”

“You look ready to me and you look gorgeous. Your mother would have-”

“Dad, don’t! You’ll set me off and Tracey’s done my make up.”

“Is there anything else to do?”

“Erm… no, I don’t think so.”

“OK. So you’re ready. The bridesmaids are ready.”

“The bridesmaids! How are they getting there?”

“Uncle Nick’s taking them. Don’t panic!”

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I know. I’m making-”

“A mountain out of a proverbial molehill. It’s your prerogative but just enjoy the day.”

“OK. Thanks, Dad.”

*

“What was that noise?”

“Just a bad gear change, I think. Nothing to worry about. The driver knows what he’s doing.”

“I knew we should have left earlier.”

“But then we’d be too early and we’d be driving round in circles.”

“You’re right as alw- What was that?”

“It didn’t sound good.”

“We’re slowing down! There’s smoke!”

“Oh dear. Never mind, we’ll get a lift with Uncle Terry and the bridesmaids.”

“Everyone else has left already.”

“So he’ll be available to come and get you. Ring him on your mobile.”

“I don’t have my mobile, Dad. Wedding dresses don’t come with pockets.”

“But you’ve got a bag.”

“Horseshoe, flowers. Two hands so no, no bag. I told you you should get a phone.”

“Never needed one. You only live round the corner.”

“Oh, Dad. What are we going to do?”

“Maybe the driver’s… no? That’s ridic- You’d think he’d have some way of communicating with his company. How is he supposed to tell them… We’ll have to walk. We’ve got time.”

“It’s at least a mile.”

“We’ve got half an hour. Twenty minutes a mile.”

“Maybe we can find a phone box.”

“Have you got change?”

“No. I told you, no pockets. Don’t tell me you don’t have any.”

“I’ve only brought my wallet. It doesn’t have a change”

“So you’ve got money.”

“While we’re sitting here talking when we could be walking.”

“I’m going to cry.”

“Don’t. Tracey’s done your make up. Come on. If we chat while we’re walking we’ll be there in no time.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“That’s what I’m here for. It’s alright, Frank. Not your fault. We’ll make our own way but please be there when we come out. OK? Thanks.”

“Oh, God.”

“What?”

“I didn’t think about getting to the reception.”

“Don’t worry, Suzie. We can take Uncle Terry’s car. There’ll be plenty of other people who can take the bridesmaids.”

“This is not how I had it planned.”

“I know but as long as you get there.”

“These shoes are killing me already. I only needed to walk-”

“What?”

“The police car’s stopping. You don’t think…”

“You never know.”

“He’s getting out, opening the back door. Yes, Dad!”

“Hello, Officer. St Barnaby. The car broke… It’s very kind of you.”

“Yes. Thank you!”

*

“Thank you again, Officer.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Hurry, Dad!”

“It’s five to. We’re fine. Slow down. Breathe.”

“Yes, Dad. OK. Calm, Suzie… calm.”

“Step… step… three… four… There’s the music. We’re here. We’ve arrived. You’re going to get married.”

“Look! There’s Alex. Doesn’t she look lovely?”

“Yes, Suzie. Suit and all, but yes, she looks lovely.”

***

Picture above courtesy of morguefile.com.

** NEW!! You can now subscribe to the mixed blog on your Kindle / Kindle app!

See http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B008E88JN0

or http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008E88JN0 for outside the UK **

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything. You can contact me and find me on the internetview my Books (including my debut novel, which is being serialised on Novel Nights In!) and I also have a blog creation / maintenance service especially for, but not limited to, writers. If you like this blog, you can help me keep it running by donating and choose an optional free eBook.

For writers / readers willing to give feedback and / or writers wanting feedback, take a look at this blog’s Feedback page.

As I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t unfortunately review books but I have a list of those who do. If there’s anything you’d like to take part in, take a look at Opportunities on this blog.

I welcome items for critique for the online writing groups listed below:

Morgen’s Online Non-Fiction Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Novel Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Poetry Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Script Writing Group

Morgen’s Online Short Story Writing Group

We look forward to reading your comments.



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