The policeman, I forget his name already – Masters? Marsden? – reclines in his seat and regards me with a gaze that is probably intended to be intimidating but can only be described as ‘cute.’ It’s true what they say about the police looking younger as you age.
“Tell me about your conversation with Gina Montrose on Monday,” he says. “You were overheard talking about Marco Conti.”
Continue readingThis was a row that had simmered for years but hadn’t yet been defused. It was an underground river of molten lava that threatened to erupt but, apart from the odd burps of hot magma, remained sluggishly subterranean and unacknowledged.
The accelerant was the proposed retirement, in five years’ time, of Joan and Hywel. Each had busy and fulfilling jobs – which had masked their need to discuss points of incompatibility and irritation. However, they were both keen to leave the worlds of work for the worlds of…..well this was the main problem.
Continue readingThe Beynons woke to find a wall around their house. Hearing workmen behind the wall, Fred bellowed: ‘What’s occurring?’
‘National plan,’ came a muffled voice.
‘Keeping others out or us in?’ Dora shouted. Her mind was quicker than her husband’s.
‘I’m just doing what I’m told.’
‘How do I get to work?’ Fred yelled. ‘How does Alice get to school?’
Continue readingAs Howard opened the washing machine and pulled out his clothes, his heart sank; everything was blue. His favourite white shirt was now tie-dyed, his jumper had shrunk small enough to fit Albie, his grandson.
Margy had only been gone three days and he was failing miserably. He really had tried to follow her list. Some of the things seemed a bit extreme like polishing all the surfaces every day. Why when there was only him there?
Margy, at sixty eight, had got herself a last minute free holiday with Faye, whose husband had a chest infection. It was Margy’s first holiday without him.
Continue readingNY December 2026.
There is an awkward moment on my arrival when an ICE agent insists on me unpacking my case. He tells me there is similar name to mine on their no-fly list.
I realise I can’t remember my PIN, so I put my hand in my suit pocket to get my phone, and he reaches for his sidearm.
“Phone,” I say, a weak grin on my face, withdrawing it slowly with two fingers. I can smell the heat of my sweat rising and try to suppress a tremble in my hand, but only succeed in dropping the phone.
Continue readingHOMEWORK for deadline Thursday 10pm, 24.04.25.
TASK: ‘The List’. Write 500 words or fewer about ‘The List’. Your story title isn’t included in the 500 words.
Homework to be in by 10pm at the latest, Thursday 24th April 2025. (This time deadline will be helpful to both Martyn and Pat).
Meeting at 1.30pm, Sunday 27.04.25, Waterstones Bookshop,1st floor, Oxford Street: subject to confirmation. Finish at 3.30pm.