fiction

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Fear

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‘Daddy, can we go and watch the drones being shot down?’

‘What…oh er yes, just leave me in peace to relax by the pool.’

‘Archie Darling, are you sure it’s safe?’

‘Yes of course Fi, this is a top hotel, relax, we’re on holiday, the doctor told you to take it easy till the baby arrives.’

‘Daaad, if you had let us bring our phones on holiday we’d be able to see what’s going on.’

‘You don’t need to know what is going on Charlotte, the hotel management will let us know anything important. Don’t they look after us splendidly every year?’

‘Archie, it is a bit different this year.’

‘Yes, but it will all settle down as quickly as it blew up.’

‘Dad, that family on our floor were packing up this morning… and those people we were swimming with yesterday.’

‘Panicking, we’re British, we don’t panic.’

‘Oh God Arch, what was that?’

‘Way off in the distance, a drone they didn’t manage to shoot down, we’re fine up here. Anyway, it’s time we got dressed for dinner. Charlotte, go and find your little brothers.’

‘Oh look, those people on our floor are coming back with their suitcases. There are a lot of people at reception, asking the staff… I’m going to go over and find out what’s going on.’

‘Gossiping no doubt.’

 ‘Darling, they are all saying the airport is closed, they did not know what to do so they came back. That couple we were chatting to yesterday are talking about getting a driver, maybe forming a convoy. What do you think we should do?’

‘Fiona, we are not driving across the dessert with all the kids and you eight months pregnant. The airport will be up and running again by the time we’re due to leave. There you are kids, come on, dinner time.’

‘What do you mean the head chef didn’t turn up… limited menu and a delay? Ah here’s the manager, I’m going to complain.’

‘Down to the basement, don’t you think you are over reacting? I appreciate you have to think of the safety of your guests, but sending us down to the basement without any dinner is hardly going to help… 

…Fiona, pop up to our room and get a few things for the children if we’re going to be stuck in the basement for a couple of hours.’

‘Archie, the lifts are switched off.’

‘Will you be alright on the stairs?’

‘They are not letting anybody up to the ninth floor.’

‘Daddy, is this a real war? That boy said they are going to give us all guns.’

‘Don’t listen to what other children are saying, now you stay with Mummy while I pop outside to see for myself what is going on.’

‘… and we are going over to Gatwick Airport now as the first plane evacuating British holiday makers lands. Families are waiting to be reunited after days of worry.

Good Evening, are you glad to be back home?’

‘Oh yes, we were holed up in our hotel basement for a week, we did not have any idea what was going to happen.’

‘You of course had priority with the children.’

‘Yes it all happened very suddenly, we just grabbed a few things, the children thought it was a bit of an adventure, didn’t you kids?’

‘I left teddy behind…’

‘I had to leave my hair straighteners behind.’

‘.. and your father.’

‘Oh yes, we left Daddy behind.’

Tuesday Tiny Tale 250 – The Echo

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‘I don’t know why you bother buying the Echo, there’s never any news in it.’

‘I thought I would find out what happened round the corner yesterday, headline on the front page.’

‘Nothing happened yesterday.’

‘Why were there three police cars then? Here it is…

 Man Arrested in Dunholme Avenue. Charlie Sharp who lives in Dunholme Avenue said “We don’t usually get police cars around here, I don’t know what was going on.”

Masie Mason said “I was just returning from walking Alfie my poodle and I was astonished to see the commotion, it’s usually very quiet around here. I saw a man being put in the back of the police car.”

Another neighbour who wished to remain anonymous said “Someone just moved into that house. It’s very worrying, this used to be a nice neighbourhood.”

Jack, who did not want to give his surname, said “I was just coming out of my front door to take Bubbles my cockerpoo for a walk, we always go the same time each day, when he started barking and I said What’s up Bubbles? Then I saw three police cars driving off. The people that lived there before had a dog, Bubbles’ best friend, he was a caverpoo. I don’t think the new people have a dog.”

The Echo contacted Hambourne police station, but a spokesperson said they could not comment.

The Echo should have interviewed me, I could have told them about all those screams I heard the night before.’

Thursday Tiny Tale – Death Where is Thy Sting?

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Mrs De-Ath hurried along the high street on Monday morning to open her florists on time, but she stopped dead in her tracks as she passed the window of the new people.

We Put the Fun in Funerals said the bright yellow sign at the top of the display.  Filling the large bay shop window was what could only be described as a model fairground meeting a pop festival and all drenched in a rainbow.

They had heard only that a funeral directors was moving into the vape shop closed down by the police. That had seemed excellent news with the prospect of new customers ordering wreaths and perhaps the occasional imaginative arrangement. The shop had been boarded up for a few weeks with the hopeful noises of improvements.

She peered closer at the Barbie doll lying in a pink coffin. Above it was a rainbow shaped notice.

No need to wait for the Grim Reaper, pop in now for free coffee and cakes and meet our jolly crew.

As Mrs De-Ath shook her head in bewilderment and looked at her watch, the door flew open and a figure like an aging Alice in Wonderland stepped out.

‘Greetings, you’re Mrs Death from the flower shop aren’t you?’

‘Mrs Delia De-Ath from the florist.’

‘Well I’m sure we’re going to get along, I’m Morticia.  I hope you have lots of exotic flowers.’

‘Um, our customers are quite a conservative bunch… it’s all daffodils and tulips at the moment.’

‘I hope to change that then, I expect your locals could do with a good shake up.’

‘I think a good shake up might finish them off.’

‘All the better, more customers for me.’

Morticia went off into gales of laughter.

Delia scurried away, mumbling about opening times.

She did not have any customers that morning, everyone in town seemed to be popping in to meet Morticia. After lunch a gaunt young man dressed as a Goth sidled into the shop.

‘Greetings, Edwin, Edwin Drood, Morticia’s assistant, glad to meet you Delia. Now, do you have black daffodils?’

‘Goodness, no such thing. I thought bright colours were the er… theme of your establishment.’

‘Do I look as if I like bright colours? We cater for all tastes and our first customer is a Goth, was a Goth. We can get the black horses and the glass hearse, but his widow thought it would be a real laugh to have black flowers.’

‘The nearest I can do is dark purple tulips, or if there is time, perhaps I could see if my supplier could obtain a black orchid.’

Whatever Delia De-Ath thought of the new funeral directors, she felt she couldn’t turn down any business. The whole parade of shopkeepers and many locals turned out to see the Goth’s hearse leave. In a carriage behind, the widow and family all wore black orchids.

When Delia heard that they were going to have a biker’s funeral she wondered what the turnout would be and what the biker would be carried in. A large order of sunflowers did not fit the biker image.

On the day a huge line up of motorbikes blocked the high street and had shoppers gawping. They were all dressed in bright colours and greeting each other effusively, laughing and joking and sharing stories of Mad Mike. Delia approached Morticia who was even more colourful than usual.

‘What will his coffin come in?’

‘Oh no coffin, his bike’s on a trailer, as per Mike’s wishes. Ah here he is…’

Delia gasped. ‘That’s surely not him, sitting ON the bike, grinning?’

‘Yes, he wanted to be plasticized.’

Tidalscribe Tales – New Review

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Today my short story collection Tidalscribe Tales features on Smorgasbord, Sally Cronin’s very popular blog. She is a great supporter of fellow authors and regularly promotes their books. In this blog you can read Sally’s review and also an extract from one of the stories.

https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/2026/03/04/smorgasbord-book-promotions-2026

Turn to my Books page to see all my novels and collections.

Weird Wednesday – Mind Boggling

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Do you find new technology mind boggling? By new I mean anything that you did not personally know about this time last week. Do you find recent innovations mind boggling? By recent I mean anything that has happened since you left school.

You obviously think you know about technology otherwise you would not be reading this on a device of some sort, but do you know how it actually works? If you do, please let the rest of us know. For most of us the mysterious workings are akin to alchemy or the dark arts. Chips are involved and are made of silicone, rather than potatoes and silicone is made from sand. There is plenty of sand on the beach, but what happens next?

On line workings are supposedly run by AI, or computers as we used to call them, but how come these logical beings have a very human urge to deliberately annoy us?

I can do all sorts of things on line, but Arty Imp lulls me into a false sense of security and confidence. Browsing wallpaper on B&Q’s site on my desk top ( I like to see everything on a large screen ) it offered to send samples for a small remuneration. I put several into the shopping basket, already I could picture how my attic office might look. I put in my order as a guest, it wouldn’t let me, it seemed I had joined B&Q Club when I bought one garden chair on line. I looked up my little notebook and typed in my email and the password I had presumably used last time. It did not recognise it. No problem, just pretend I had forgotten it. Nothing would enable me to get a password they approved of, links were sent to my email, texted to me… I gave up, it would be easier to take two buses to my nearest B&Q where I would not see the wallpapers I liked, because they had already told me they were only available on line… Anyway, not as if it was important… but thinking outside the box later I decided to pretend I was a new customer and use my other email address, Not join the club, say No to being on the emailing list. I did not want any sort of relationship, just the wallpaper samples. My purchase went straight through with reassuring emails and they soon arrived in the post. Of course, obviously if I choose one I like they will not actually let me buy a whole roll…

To check how Tech Savy you are take this simple test.

You want to send money to your nephew for his birthday. Do you

  1. Use face recognition or finger print to do a bank transfer on your phone
  2. Get on the bus and go to the nearest town that still has a branch of your bank open and talk to a human behind the desk.

It’s your sister’s birthday today, do you

  1. WhatsApp her to arrange a time to Facetime
  2. Ring her on your landline.

You have not heard from your elderly aunt for a few days, do you

  1. Play a round of Words With Friends on your phone and see if she plays back.
  2. Call her house phone from your house phone which is firmly tethered by a wire.

You need a relaxing evening after dealing with technology all day, do you

  1. Stream a box set of a new drama and stay up all night binge watching
  2. Look in the newspaper or Radio Times to see what’s on BBC before the ten o’clock news.

If you answered A to all the questions welcome to the first quarter of the 21st century, but beware what you will face in this next quarter.

If you answered B every time you just might be able to cope if all the electricity is switched off, perhaps…

But how is the present matching up to the future predicted in the 20th century? We are not sitting at a phone table with a curly wire attaching our phone to the wall and a little TV screen showing a live picture of our relatives on the other side of the world.

The first ‘mobile phones’ most of us saw were on Star Trek, some of us watching in black and white. Their hand held flip up devices could Teleport them down to a strange planet, but they could not take photos, text their friends, watch videos or Facetime with friends on the other side of the universe. It may have slowed the plot if they had to play back on Quiz Planet before stepping on to their platform.

On arrival on the new planet they stop to take a selfie together in front of a strange volcano so they can put it on Instagram. Then Captain Kirk pauses to take a picture of the Aliens who have crept up without them noticing. He wants to WhatsApp a picture to his mother billions of light years away.

Meanwhile a junior officer has not noticed the aliens as he is bending down to snap strange plants using the plant recognition App.

His colleague is glued to the screen exclaiming ‘210 points for OXO, how did he do that and I’ve got all vowels’.

Captain Kirk is now on Google maps, having failed to understand what the Aliens are saying, their language is not coming up on his translation App.

The weather App was not much use either as it failed to predict the electric storm and downpour of acid rain. It seems like a good time to beam up, but their phones need recharging…

Did you score A or B or perhaps AB? What is your favourite 21st Century invention?

Tuesday Tale – Raining

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For a brief moment it had stopped raining so Noah called Rufus and they set off for their usual walk down to the estuary while the tide was low. It was a new routine since the endless rain this winter. No one had ever seen the river running so high and most had abandoned the popular footpaths which were either too muddy or had disappeared completely. But Rufus was a big young dog who loved the water and had a lot of energy to burn up. Noah had assured Sally that their dog’s acute senses would keep them both safe. He wasn’t exactly sure if this was true; Rufus could well abandon caution and his master if he spotted a lost seal washed in.

There was a bigger surprise for them both. On the narrow strip of shore revealed by the low tide was a beached boat, a very large boat. Noah had always wanted his own boat, but Sally was not keen and his bank account was even less keen. Could his boyhood dream have come true? It was hardly a dream boat, lying on its side looking very sorry. The dog was rushing round it, nose in the sand, tail wagging. It occurred to Noah it could be a ship wreck with bodies on board. A closer look revealed no holes or signs of major damage. More likely it had slipped it’s mooring from some distance away, no boats like that around here. He ran his hand over the bow, good solid wood, very old wood. Could this be an antique boat? Noah decided to climb inside, not an easy task with slippery wood at that angle, especially after his recent knee replacement. He clambered over and slid down the deck, landing on the side of the wheelhouse. He stayed on his wheelhouse perch to survey the deck, which was as seaweed clad as a rockpool. The funnel was still in place, the top resting in the sand below where the tide was creeping back in. The mast had snapped leaving only a jagged stump. The boat was longer than he had supposed when he stood beneath the hull. Perhaps it had been a coastal steamer similar to those his grandfather used to describe, taking supplies all round the coast, the family living on board. What fun that had seemed to young Noah and it could still be fun.

This was a vessel that deserved to be rescued and restored, returned to its former glory, then he could take Sally on the cruises she dreamt of. The water around them was becoming more turbulent as the river in full spate met the incoming tide. A rescue was needed right now, restoring it could be planned later. Rufus would not be much help with that, he was barking anxiously for Noah to get back down on the beach.

There was no point in having three robust sons if you did not summon them for an important mission. Simon first, he worked at the boat yard as a general dogsbody, but he drove trucks and trailers bringing boats in to be repaired and launching them back out to sea. Could his bad tempered boss be persuaded to give space in his yard next to those posh yachts and respectable working fishing boats?

‘Dad, how on earth do you think we can get that on a trailer?’

‘Wait till Ben arrives.’

‘You think his gangmaster is going to let him off the building site with his expensive machinery?’

‘He is not a gangmaster, I play darts with him.’

‘The tide is coming in, can’t we wait and see if it floats the boat?’

‘And floats it away?’

Noah looked around nervously, there was more than the tide to worry about. Nosey people calling whatever authorities would be interested. Noah had no idea how he stood legally, lucky his third son was a lawyer.

Sally cooked a big dinner that night, delighted to have all three sons at home for a meal. Noah had promised to explain everything when they were all sat down properly, showered and warmed up after their epic day.

‘You rescued what!? Why?  It’s not the Mary Rose.’

‘The Mary Rose is not restored, it can’t sail, our boat will go to sea again.’

Tim the lawyer had been trying to speak.

‘Haven’t you lot been listening to the news, we have more to worry about than your ship wreck. Your house is probably going to be flooded, the council wants everyone to start making evacuation plans.’

‘Not us surely’ said Sally.

‘Yes I have seen the plans, you are getting nearer and nearer to the river and it’s getting worse upstream. I thought that’s why you called me round this evening, to help you pack. I’ve booked a space at ‘Storealot’.

‘That awful fluorescent orange building on top of the hill?’

‘Yes Mother and very grateful you will be to have your stuff safe in there.’

‘But where will we go, we’re not staying in your tiny flat…’

Tim looked relieved.

‘…and we certainly can’t stay in Simon’s caravan.’

Simon looked relieved.

‘And there’s no room at Becky’s parents’ Ben added hastily.

‘That’s why you have to be registered now, you can get on the priority list as you’re vulnerable.’

‘I’m not bloody vulnerable’ Noah spoke for the first time.

‘You just had a knee replacement.’

‘And I’ve just rescued a steamer, a boat that we can use when the flood comes’  he slapped the table. ‘Of course, the boat is a heavenly message. At least we won’t have to build it, worry about cubits… ‘

Tim laughed, they all laughed.

‘They laughed at my namesake, then they all wanted to get on board when it didn’t stop raining. Tim and your mother can pack up the house, get a hotel booked before everyone else does, me, Simon and Ben, straight down the yard in the morning, get that deck scrubbed. The accommodation down below is surprisingly roomy from what I could see. All of us could fit in for forty days, or whatever…’

‘What do you mean all of us?’

‘Wel, just in case the whole world gets flooded again.’

‘It wasn’t the whole world last time Dad, just a bit of the Middle East.’

‘If I’m wrong we will have had a nice cruise like you mother wanted.’

‘Becky won’t want to leave her parents behind.’

‘We have to be ruthless, we need young women, not oldies, except to steer the boat, you two better hurry up and get yourselves girlfriends. ‘

‘I have got one,’ said Simon ‘but she wants a city break to Paris, flying, not in a tug boat.’

‘I won’t be going,’ said Tim ‘Lawrence and I will not be much use to repopulate the planet.’

‘What about Rufus.’

‘No,’ said Simon ‘we’ll need animals we can eat.’

The Ark restoration attracted plenty of attention and despite the laughter of the other boat owners, Noah noticed a lot of activity around posh yachts that normally stayed in the yard till spring. Food stores and suitcases were being sneaked in.

It was amazing how many things you could get on Amazon thought Noah, hammocks, sleeping bags, astronauts’ ready meals, a motor and navigation instruments. Tim had been right, their house was soon under water. Locals were blaming the council. Noah waited till high tide was at night so they could slip away quietly… He would love to see everyone’s faces in the morning.

Tuesday Tale – Talking With A Stranger

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I crossed over to the other side of the road. I wanted to go to Boots, but I was too embarrassed to walk past the man sitting in that doorway with a thin blanket over his shoulders. The other day he was asking for money. Shoppers passed by saying they did not have any cash on them, probably true, but a good excuse these days. I do carry money; I’m always smug when the computers have gone down and they’re only taking cash. Then there is the craft fair and Sam my Big Issue man… No, I wasn’t going to feel guilty, I always buy a Big Issue and we gave some money to Crisis at Christmas, they held out a life line for Barry’s brother Dean, though he didn’t take it. That’s why Barry always says ‘Don’t give them any money, they could help themselves if they wanted to, look at our Dean, brought everything  on himself. How many times did we bail him out?’

Only once as far as I remember, but I just let him witter on. Still, he’s right it’s better to give to the people who can help properly. But I still feel guilty when I see huddled figures.

The next day I had a good excuse for staying on the other side of the road. I had a big parcel to take to the post office for my sister’s birthday. As I shouldered my way through the post office door I heard a voice. It was him again, leaning against the lamppost, holding out an empty takeaway cup hopefully. I had my hands full, my purse was tucked away in my back pack. I mumbled ‘seeifgotanchnagewayout.’

For what the parcel cost to send I could have bought him a meal at Wetherspoons up the road. I had put some change in my pocket, but I knew we were also supposed to make homeless people feel human, not ignored, what on earth could I say? I edged out of the door shielding beside a fat man, aiming to go in the opposite direction from the pitiful man. But I heard him speak. I looked around hoping he was talking to someone else, like a Salvation Army person or a homeless mate. But any other shoppers had melted away. It was just me and him. Him staring at me with strangely deep eyes. Why couldn’t he go and sell the Big Issue, or go and get help, the help the council proclaimed was available.

‘Why do you ignore me?’

‘Er um, I don’t… I don’t know.’

‘Why don’t you listen to me.’

My mouth was dry, I undid my scarf, took my hat off, felt my face flushing.

Why did he have to pick on me?

‘Er how are you getting on?’

‘Not bad considering, my family were awful this time, not like last time. My first parents were kind and loving, I had fun with my younger brothers and sisters… ‘

‘Did you get adopted?’

He did not seem to hear my question.

‘We decided, the three of us, that I should be brought up in a dreadful family, family is hardly a word you would apply to the dysfunctional adults I was with. Anyway, it was decided I should have all the disadvantages so I/We would really know what it is like to be a human.’

I felt tingles down my spine. ‘Oh my God, are you an alien?’

‘No, the first name you said, taken in vain like most people do.’

Of course he was obviously on something, I should just walk away, if Barry could see me now he would think me so stupid for even thinking…

I walked briskly down the road, into Sainsburys with normality around me. But I thought of those penetrating eyes and what he had said. There came to me some vague memory of Sunday school stories when Mum was in her Christian phase. Jesus coming again, how would he appear, would anyone believe him. What were those discussions we had that time I went on a teen camp. I thought it was for camping fun and trampolining, but turned out they wanted to convert us. My parents had not realised it was a strange sect.

‘Will you turn your back on Him when he comes again?’ they asked us.

 At night in our six person tents, my friend Julie had us all giggling, making fun of them, bringing us back to normal.

But what if it was true, was I as bad as Peter or even Judas?

I did not tell Barry all this, he would just laugh. But I had a plan. What could be the harm in talking to Him, call him out, see if he was just mad. Before I got on the bus for work, I would see if he was there.

He was not in any doorways, but as it started raining and I dashed to the bus shelter, he was there. Upright, in normal clothes.

‘Hello Sandra.’

‘How do you know my name?’ I stuttered.

‘The advantage of being Omniscient.’

‘Don’t you mean Omnipotent?’ I decided to play him at his own mind games.

‘That as well.’

‘Look, the bus is going to come along at any moment.’

‘I know.’

‘I have to go to work, so can you just tell me, are you actually saying that you are God.’

‘If that is what you call me in Surbiton, yes.’

‘As in have you come down to Earth again, after all this time?’

‘It doesn’t seem that long, but yes.’

His eyes looked so kind and gentle, not scary, I decided to be bold.

‘So why not come back as a woman this time?’

‘Because women still aren’t listened to? Does Bary listen to you?’

This had to be some kind of trick, someone who knew me and Barry…

I trembled. ‘Look, I don’t think you should be hard on us, all of us. How are we supposed to know the truth about the universe and everything, the scientists keep telling us different things.’

‘You are not supposed to know. How could you possibly understand?’

‘Oh that’s a relief in a way. Do you know how big the universe is, or how many there are … and do you know what is going on out there in infinity?’

‘Of course, the advantage of being omnipresent.’

At that moment my bus came along and I stepped on board, turning to wave goodbye, but he was gone. I went up on the top deck, sat at the back to think. Looked out of the window to try and spot him, but the rain had got too heavy to see properly.

Was he mad or was I. But could it be true, was He true. If He was, would anyone believe me? Probably a whole host of nutters, as Barry would say.

Tuesday Tiny Tale – My Best Friend

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Who would have imagined meeting Francis would change my life?

I was walking to work along my usual route when I saw Pat coming towards me, in my direction, not turning down the next corner, not crossing over. Coming towards me on the narrowest stretch of pavement. What should I say? Hello, talk about the weather? Don’t look at the pavement, look at her.

‘Hello Kimberly, on the way to work?’

‘Yes.’

She’s stopping, not passing, think of conversation.

‘Is it going okay?’

‘Yes.’

No, I mean I don’t actually get paid and I’m not using my brain… but what shall I say…

‘Em, okay, but I have applied for a better job.’

‘Excellent, I’m sure you are wasted where you are with your brains. Anyway, say hello to your mother, bye.’

‘Bye.’

Should I have said ‘Have a nice day?’ but I don’t know where she is going or what she is planning to do and it might not be nice…

Why did I say that. I haven’t applied for a new job, despite hints from Mum. I was just searching for something to say. Now I can just see her chatting to Mum ‘Oh I hear Kimberly has applied for a new job.’ Now I’ll have to apply for one.

When I arrived at The Centre Jo greeted me with great excitement.

‘I want you to come and meet Francis, you two are going to get along, I just know it.’

That seemed unlikely as I did not get along with many people. I followed silently as Jo chattered on, at least her incessant talking meant I did not need to fill in the gaps.

‘Did you have a good weekend, we went to see that new film, the relaxed showing. Your mother would love it as well as you. Come along, Francis is looking forward to meeting you, ah here he is. Francis, meet Kimberly.’

I looked straight into his eyes and held his gaze. I did not look down at the ground. Instantly I knew I would be comfortable in his company. By the end of the day we were good friends, as if we had known each other for ever. At last they had found me the right support worker.

Frankie was a good companion in every way, from carrying heavy shopping for me to enjoying country walks, we both liked to get away to peace and quiet. He never criticised, only encouraged and so I found the courage to apply for a challenging mainstream job.

I completed the thorough on line application, lots of hard technical questions, but at least I did not have to talk to anyone. I was delighted to soon get an email saying I had been shortlisted, having passed the technical assessment with flying colours.

Now I had to face the interview. The formal letter assured me that the company was inclusive and supportive and had a policy of nurturing young talent. Mum was over the moon. I tried to keep everything low key. I had no idea how many others were going to be interviewed.

On the day, Frankie accompanied me to the impressive riverside building. Mum insisted on coming too and said she and Frankie would wait in the riverside gardens till I texted to say the interview was over.

The three people behind the long desk were almost smiling, but the big  desk made it hard to understand their expressions. I tried to sit up straight and look at whoever was talking to me.

‘These results in the tech tests are excellent and you are au fait with the new XYZ system?’

‘Yes… I was lucky to get on the training course at the centre.’

‘Not lucky, according to your references your aptitude secured you a place.’

He then put on what I called a cosy voice.

‘Now tell us a bit about yourself.’

The part I dreaded.

‘We want our staff to feel comfortable working here, with all the help they might need.’

My mouth went dry, I looked down at the desk. Without Frankie at my side I had lost my voice.

‘Perhaps you could start with any questions you have about the job.’

‘Can my support worker come to work with me?’

‘Yes, yes of course, several of our staff have extra support.’

I was glad to get back out in the sunshine and walked briskly down to the river.

‘Good news Frankie, you can come with me.’

Melody, Kimberly’s new team leader, was waiting in the foyer to greet her and organise two ID cards. She glanced at the clock, expecting Kimberly to come through the revolving door at any moment, but there seemed to be a bit of a commotion out on the pavement. The security man spun through the door and addressed Melody.

‘Your new staff member, has she got clearance… er, um approval to bring her support donkey to work?

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Moving Away

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‘You’re moving where?’

‘Puddleminster-on-Sea.’

‘Is that an actual place?’

‘Yes, I have bought a cottage there.’

‘But Lottie Darling, you can’t leave London.’

Lottie almost faltered under the withering gaze of her agent Felicity Buchannon, but it was too late to change her mind.

‘Felicity, it was you who said I must take a break after losing Callum.’

‘A break, not permanent exile.’

‘I’m hardly leaving the country, it’s a lovely little place where I can get away from everything.’

Charlotte stopped typing. She had set herself to write the opening page of her Lottie Lincoln novel, now all she had to do was decide in which order to put all the chapters she had written so far. She could well imagine the reactions of Felicity and Lottie’s friends. She recalled her boss’s reaction when she had handed in her notice.

‘Where on earth is Hambourne?’

Once her boss realised Hambourne was not within Greater London, Royal Berkshire or Surrey, she lost interest and obviously decided Charlotte was a lost cause and did not try to dissuade her. After that, the longer Charlotte left it to explain to people she was moving away, the harder it became to tell anyone, let alone mention David’s situation. Her best friend from school days had recently departed to live in New Zealand with her new partner, so there was no need to reveal her change of address, thank heaven for emails.

So here she was in Hambourne writing, which was more than Lottie was doing as Charlotte had given her writer’s block. She started typing again.

When Lottie’s mobile rang and she saw Felicity’s name, she was tempted not to answer, but Felicity had been a good friend to her, she deserved better.

‘Lottie, how are you, we’re worried about you.’

‘I needed time to think.’

‘Did you ring that number I gave you for the grief counsellor?’

‘I don’t need counselling, a walk by the sea helps.’

‘So how’s your novel coming along?’

Novel?  She hadn’t even unpacked the few chapters she had written, so much had happened to her, Puddleminster was not the quiet place she had expected. After Callum’s tragic death some people had advised her to have a complete break from writing and work, while others had insisted she must keep busy, keep writing.

‘Are you still there Lottie? I don’t want to push you, but we have got a publishing deadline to meet.’

‘I can’t do it Fliss, maybe I’ve got writers’ block. If I do write it will be something dark, this is such a strange place it’s given me new ideas.’

‘Darling, we don’t do DARK, what on earth would all your readers say, they want romance and escapism.’

‘I’ll write under a pen name then, look I have to go, I have an appointment…’

Five minutes later Lottie was on the beach and happy to bump into Geoff the pathologist out with his friend’s dog.

‘Hello Lottie, my wife was just talking about you, wondering when your next book was coming out.’

‘Oh dear, my agent just rang with the same question. I think I’ve got writer’s block. Maybe I should write something different, about a pathologist or a forensic scientist, what is the difference?’

‘For a start hasn’t that already been done and my wife certainly doesn’t want to read about bodies, being married to me. Mind you, I have got an interesting case on the slab, elderly lady, quiet life, living alone with her pot plants, not an enemy in the world and she has been poisoned with a very unusual substance, the sort of thing arrows in the South American jungle were tipped with…’

Lottie wasn’t sure if there was a code of conduct among pathologists and if he should be telling her this, but her interest was piqued.

‘Ohh, was it a local lady?’

‘No, no, way the other side of town. I would not be telling you if it was local.’

 ‘Are you sure she was murdered?  Would the plants still be in her house, did she have exotic plants?’

‘No idea, why?’

‘My aunt had plants, house like a jungle my father used to say. Anyway, she liked her tea brewed properly with freshly boiled water, so she would empty her kettle before using it, distilled water for her beloved plants. If your lady had an exotic plant and the kettle spout touched highly poisonous leaves, is it possible the poison might end up in her tea….’

Geoff laughed then looked thoughtful. ‘I am not an expert on tropical plants, but it would be amusing if an episode of Gardener’s World was devoted to plants that killed their owners.’

‘Oh yes, those viewers’ homes where they can hardly move for plants.’

‘…and you were right about the headless body in the park…’

Charlotte passed for a moment, what fun, this could be a further step to Lottie becoming an amateur detective.

Two weeks had passed with Lottie writing not a single word, while frantic emails from Felicity became more and more frequent. She had joined a walking group and a widow’s support group, where she was of great interest because of her novels and the unusual circumstances of Callum’s death. But she had to face the fact she had no idea in what direction her life should go.

As she walked on the beach one morning she looked up to see Geoff striding purposefully towards her waving.

‘You were right, house full of exotic plants. More than one type highly toxic. A gradual build up of poison in her body, it would not have killed you to have one cup of tea with her, but… ‘

Charlotte closed her lap top, no need to decide tonight how poor Callum had died or what might happen next in Puddleminster-on-Sea.

Friday Flash Fiction 900 -Morning Jog

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 28 Comments

Gabriella tied back her springy blond hair and trotted down the stairs.

‘Gabby, surely you are not going out dressed like that, you’ll freeze.’

‘Muuum, this is my jogging outfit, I’ll soon warm up running.’

‘Do be careful and don’t go into the woods.’

‘But the woods will be perfect on a morning like this, sunny and frosty.’

‘Not now they have started that new scheme.’

‘Don’t believe everything you read on Facebook.’

‘… and I do wish you would have breakfast before going out on a cold morning.’

It was a beautiful morning as Gabby trotted off down the road and took the footpath into the National Trust woodland. They were so lucky to live near a forest. She waved to a couple of joggers she knew by sight as they passed by.

‘Lovely morning, happy new year.’

‘Same to you…’

Further along Gabby glanced at her Fit Bit, she was doing a good time, maybe she would go in for the local half marathon and then who knew what next. She took the right fork for the first time to increase the length of her circuit. It was a pretty path but more challenging with an incline and rougher going. Gabby began to wonder how much further this was than her normal route. Then she began to wonder when she would come across a familiar path. After a while she began to feel hungry and a bit light headed. Perhaps she should have had a yoghurt or banana before setting out. Still, she must keep going and not lose her rhythm. Her aim now was not preparing for a marathon but to get home and persuade her mother to cook her a nice breakfast.

In the distance she could see a shape, a cottage, a run down cottage? Strange, nobody was supposed to live in these woods, that’s why they were perfect for the rewilding project. Probably abandoned decades ago, but why could she detect the delightful scent of wood smoke? As Gabby drew closer she could see smoke gently spiralling up in the cold air. Must be some poor homeless person, sensible to make a cosy home for himself, better than sleeping on the pavement.

The path led close by the ramshackle cottage and she felt like an intruder. Should she rush past or take a diversion? No she must stick to the path, the trees were really thick here and she didn’t want to get further lost than she was already. As she ran round to the other side, she noticed the door was open and there was the unmistakeable smell of porridge. She realised just how hungry she was now and wished she was back home eating porridge and watching breakfast TV. But despite her misgivings she could not resist having a peep inside.

To her surprise it looked clean and homely and on a wooden table stood three bowls of steaming porridge. There was no sign of the occupants. Now she was so hungry she thought if she took a spoonful out of each bowl, nobody would notice. It tasted divine, the fresh cold morning air had given her an appetite.

The cottage was silent, she took a few more spoonfuls, just enough to boost her energy so she could get away before the mystery occupants returned. But as she took her phone off her belt, thinking of looking at Google maps to get her location, she had an idea. She must take a few quick snaps to show her friends and put on Instagram and it would be a shame not to take a quick shot upstairs.

The old worn wooden steps creaked as she crept up and came straight out into a single room with a sloping roof, just big enough for three beds. With their clean fresh duvets it all looked unlikely to be a hidey hole for a homeless person or someone on the run from the police. As Gabby stared she realised how cold she had become since she stopped running. It would  be a sensible idea to climb under the duvet and warm her limbs up for a few minutes, as long as she did not fall asleep.

The next thing she knew she was startled by a noise, a lot of noises, loud men’s voices in a strange language. All she could do was hide under the duvet and hope they would sit down and eat their porridge and not come upstairs. Her hands were shaking as she tried to look at her phone, but who should she call?

At that moment she felt a heavy hand press down on her shoulder. She let out a muffled scream and somehow managed to scramble out of the bed and stumble down the stairs. Her nimbleness getting out of the door was her only advantage against the two very large figures downstairs.

At the Reursinement headquarters several people were observing all the monitors.

‘Any sign of them?’

‘No, but that’s only to be expected, we can’t have CCTV all over the forest.’

‘What about the tracking devices?’

‘They stopped working days ago.’

‘So are you saying we have no idea where they are?’

‘Yes, no, surely the idea of rewilding is just that, letting them get on with their own lives, looking after their young without us intruding and they should be hibernating by now.’

‘Hopefully, but do rescued circus bears actually know how to hibernate?’