Just Another Ordinary Day    

By Jane Scoggins                                       

The sink was full of dirty dishes, the breakfast egg congealed on the

plates. A pool of milk sat in a perfect round convex, shimmering on the kitchen worktop. It was just waiting for the slightest jolt to burst out and spill down the cabinet to the floor.

Cornflakes crunched underfoot. The Hoover, upright and silent in the hallway stood to attention like a guardsman in his shiny red jacket, waiting for the order to ‘jump to and clean up’. The dog, having finished snuffling around for tit bits on the kitchen floor now waited by the back door assuming a pathetic look that combined an attitude of urgency for the purpose of expressing his outdoor toileting needs. Jackie surveyed the kitchen wreckage and sighed, muttering to herself, ‘‘Just another ordinary day I see, welcome to the usual morning bomb site Jackie’’

The dog, with his sensitive hearing hoped that the words, despite being delivered in a low tone by his loving mistress were for him and an indication that a walk was imminent. Bingo understood the word walk, but also knew that other words that did not sound like walk may possibly lead to a walk if spoken in his direction. It was only when words directed to him with a shake of the head, indicated that there was no chance of a walk in the near future. On these occasions Bingo knew it was best to retreat to his bed and lie quietly but expectantly for a while, until summoned by Jackie, big Dave, smaller Tim or even smaller Katie. A lot of the day was spent with Jackie in the house and. Bingo had become accustomed to her routine once Dave, Tim and Katie had jumped up from the kitchen table, scraped back their chairs, grabbed their coats and hurried out the front door. Bingo had never quite got used to this sudden flurry of early morning activity, and the  four individually pitched voices all speaking very fast at the same time. But he always felt unexpectedly excited every morning when this happened and was compelled to join in with the rushing about and the noisy voices competition. His involvement was curtailed when told to stop barking and running around in circles in the overcrowded kitchen. Sometimes he was told to go to his basket and calm down. Bingo appreciated this order as he never had any idea what he was getting excited about and didn’t know when to stop. Bingo and Jackie were good friends and therefore had lots of communication throughout the day. Jackie had a routine so Bingo generally knew the pattern that the morning would take, thus allowing him to avoid the bits he did not enjoy like the vacuum cleaning machine that scared him. Sometimes Jackie sang, sometimes she put on the radio, and sometimes she did both. Quite often she would talk to Bingo as she went about her jobs putting the house to rights. First it was the downstairs rooms and then upstairs to the bedrooms. Bingo listened out for the change in tone in Jackie’s voice. When she was cross about something she had to clear up in Tim and Katie’s rooms he would slink away under a bed in another bedroom where he could keep safe company with a pair of soft fluffy slippers or bigger rough tweedy ones. He loved washing clothes days as he enjoyed snuffling through the delicious smells hidden in the piles of dirty laundry waiting on the landing, or on the kitchen floor ready to go into the washing machine. Socks and jeans were particular favourites. He liked to help find abandoned clothing under the beds and bring them out. Sometimes Jackie showed appreciation and sometimes not. She was definitely not impressed when he tipped over the piles of clean laundry and spread it around the floor whilst he went in search of an interesting scent or chewed on a button. He particularly liked running around the house with a sock or T shirt in his mouth waiting for Jackie to chase him. Sometimes she whacked him with the newspaper and although it did not hurt he knew that it was temporarily time to stop what ever he was doing, however much fun.  A very good game involved skidding across the kitchen floor after Jackie had taken time with her mop to create what he believed to be a lovely wet play area. Bingo had better hearing than Jackie and liked to be helpful by barking loudly and running around her feet when he heard the doorbell or the telephone ring. Sometimes he would chase his tail around and around in a circle to get her attention as an alternative or in addition to barking.

When Jackie finished her jobs she would take Bingo out for a walk. This is what  he had been waiting for. When she reached for her coat and his lead, Bingo could not help but run up and down the stairs a few times as fast as he could to show he was aware of the plan, ready and excited. Sometimes, if there were things left on the stairs, they would roll or tumble onto the hall floor or get tangled up in his paws.

When Tim and Katie came back in the afternoon there would be more activity. He couldn’t wait to perform tricks for them. He took requests for tricks as seriously as any good performer, and was generally very pleased with himself for the response he received. He could roll over, jump over the footstool, and when in the mood and given encouragement would sing. A particular favourite of his was ‘How Much Is that Doggy in the Window.’ As soon as he heard this music Bingo was ready to give his best rendering. The postman was a welcome visitor to the front door. Bingo could hear him coming up the path and could smell him faintly when he put things through the draughty letterbox. Sometimes it was the whiff of another dog, sometimes a bit pepperminty, but not as strong as the Polo mint he had found and crunched, under big Dave’s chair. Bingo had only seen him properly through the window but had barked hello very loudly many times and the postman usually waved at him in a friendly way. He sniffed the envelopes that come through the letterbox and would lick some of them, or pick them up in his mouth and shake them about a bit if they were large enough. The mistress often had to push him aside to pick them up before they got bent or a bit damp. Sometimes she put them down again, especially if they were the brown colour. But if she liked the look of them she opened them straight away. Bingo knew that this was usually a cue for her to take a break and have a drink and a biscuit. Bingo was happy when this happened as there may be crumbs or even broken pieces of biscuit for him to eat. He was more than willing to attract Jackie's attention by performing a trick or sit in front of her and paw her leg gently, for the pleasure of being rewarded a treat.

On this particular ordinary day, Jackie, having finished the chores, and with the dishes washed, the laundry sorted and in the machine she was ready for a sit down with a cup of coffee. Bingo had been under her feet all morning running around with a sock in

his mouth and refusing to let her put it in the washing machine Added to this he had been making paw prints on the clean kitchen floor. However she loved him a lot, and his funny antics make her laugh and kept her sane whilst she tackled the boring humdrum daily housework. Picking up the one letter from the mat that had arrived that day she slit it open whilst waiting for the kettle to boil. Having quickly scanned the words she read out loud to Bingo.

‘‘Bingo, the magazine likes my stories about you; they want me to do a weekly column, a sort of Dog’s Blog. They say that hearing about your antics made them laugh. They are sure that their readers would like to hear about the things you get up to. Do you remember when you ran around the house with a pair of Tim’s underpants on your head, with your ears poking out? We couldn’t catch you, and then you escaped out the house and ran down the street. Tim ran after you and was so embarrassed because he saw a girl he knew and she saw you had a pair of his Spiderman underpants on his head. She laughed and laughed, but all he could do was go bright red knowing it would all be around the school next day. Well, the editor loved that story and wants more. Thank you Bingo. This hasn’t turned out to be just another ordinary day after all!’’

                                                                        Copyright Jane Scoggins

The New Coat

 The New Coat 

By Jane Scoggins 

It had been a long time coming but today was the day for shopping. Not just any shopping, but specifically for a new coat.  Very long overdue, and dreamed about for quite some time. The main reason for the wait was money of course. Not enough of it for the sort of coat he dreamed of having.  After a period of saving and with birthday money, and the use of a credit card, the time had come when it was possible to fulfil the dream, and the need, because winter was starting to bite and Ricky’s jacket was just not warm enough. He was going to go all out for a thick warm full length, good quality winter coat. He had looked in the shops, in magazines and online and knew that the sort of coat he wanted would be at least £200. Ricky didn't drive, couldn’t afford a car anyway, so his usual mode of transport was the bus. Very convenient for work and shops with a bus stop five minutes walk from his flat. It was a busy Saturday with lots of folk out shopping. Ricky felt a buzz of excitement. He had three shops in mind and planned to visit each one before making up his mind.  He had no intention of buying such a precious garment online. No he wanted to be able to luxuriate in the whole process of choosing, trying on, and taking his time. After all, for him, it was to be an unusually expensive purchase. He had set the day aside for this trip, It felt like an adventure. He didn't have much adventure in his life normally. He had mates at work and some friends he met up with to go to football or the pub, but no one special, like a girlfriend. He had a nice Mum he saw maybe one a month, but that didn’t count in the same way. She had suggested more than once that he could do with a better coat when he turned up shivering in his thin jacket, but he had always brushed it aside,saying he was fine. He knew it would please her to see him sporting a smart new warm coat. It seemed to him that mothers worried about their children keeping warm, even when they were grown up. He could remember all the times she zipped or buttoned him into his school coats right up to his neck from September to March during his school years. Well maybe until the age of nearly twelve when he insisted she stop.

The town was busy. Ricky decided on having a Costa coffee before he started shopping. He liked the idea of making the pleasure last and the idea of delayed gratification.

He went to the three shops he knew would sell the sort of quality coats he was looking for. All very nice in the first two, with possible contenders, but it was not till he stepped into the plush surrounds of the third shop and ran his eyes and his hands over their rail of gentlemen's overcoats and tried some on that he was sure he had found the right shop and the right coat. The sales assistant was helpful and attentive but not pushy, only commenting in a genuine sort of way

 ‘Colour suits you sir, nice fit in the arms and across the shoulders too’.

Which made Ricky feel a bit more comfortable in the sort of posh shop he had never been in before. He made his choice, an understated Reiss Gable Wool Blend single breasted Epsom overcoat. Camel coloured. It was expensive alright and momentarily he wondered if he was a bit mad, foolish in fact, at such a purchase. Even the carrier bag with his new coat carefully wrapped around in tissue paper looked expensive. Wanting to maintain the feeling of excitement he went to a snazzy cafe, sat at a little bistro table in the window and set his precious carrier bag on the seat next to him, like as if it was a guest, while he ate a toasted sandwich. Ricky then headed for home. At the bus stop he sat on the bench and waited for the bus. While he was waiting he texted two of his friends to see if they were still up for a night out. Just before the bus arrived his Mum phoned

 ‘Hello Ricky, cold today isn't it? Would you like to come for a roast dinner next Sunday? Also if you could, will you take a look at the shelf in the kitchen, its gone a bit wobbly’

‘Yes sure Mum, would love to look forward to one of your roasts, they always keep the cold out. And yes, I will take a look at your shelf. Probably just needs another screw fixing. Got to go the bus is here’

Ricky jumped on the crowded bus, paid his fare and went to the back to find on of the few vacant seats.

It was more that a few minutes before he realised he’d left the carrier bag with his precious new coat on the bench at the bus stop. He rang the bell, and had to wait several more agonising minutes before the next stop. He ran from the bus all the way back to the bench. The carrier bag was gone, nowhere to be seen. Ricky looked around frantically but there was nothing, and no one in sight. He sank to the bench in disbelief, tears springing to his eyes. Perhaps someone kind had picked it up and would hand it in somewhere? Too awful to imagine someone heartless had taken it for themselves or to sell on. He would make enquiries at the shop, he would contact the police, even though police stations didn’t seem to take in lost property, or even be open these days. He would have to wait in agony and hope and pray for the best.

Ricky spent a few miserable hours at home. He cried off from his usual Saturday night at the pub with the boys. He paced and fidgeted, couldn’t settle, and slept badly. He struggled through Sunday. On Monday he went to work as usual. At coffee break he phoned the shop to hear that so far no one had handed in his carrier bag and coat. The assistant took his telephone number and told him she would contact him if (by a miracle her tone of voice implied) the coat was returned to the shop. Ricky phoned 101 and explained his loss to the police person, who was very understanding, but didn’t hold out much hope. Ricky realised that his coat would not be rated very high, if at all, on the scale of importance. However he left his contact number in the million to one chance his coat was handed in or found somewhere. He was very aware that despite his very precise description, bobbies on the beat would not be apprehending every male wearing an exact description of his coat. Unless of course it was being worn by a known lowlife fence or drug dealer whose usual outdoor attire was a Primark hoody.

Two weeks passed and the painful loss of the beautiful coat lessened only slightly. Ricky wore his old jacket and often felt cold and miserable

  Once or twice he thought he glimpsed his coat on the back of a fleeting figure across the street or in the shopping arcade, but he knew in his heart that it wasn’t. He had left his details, along with his shame and embarrassment with the sales person in the posh shop where he had bought his wonderful quality coat, just in case. The look on the assistant’s face was sympathetic but that was all. It probably didn't mean much to him in the scheme of things. But it probably made quite a good story to tell about the man who didn't look like he could afford an expensive coat but had bought one none the less, and then within an hour had left it at a bus stop, never to be seen again. What an idiot. Ricky felt he deserved every bit of idiot shaming. He hated himself for being so stupid. It had been foolish of him to even think he could own such a coat. Would his mates have laughed at him for being above himself, showing off. Would he have been worried every time he took it off that someone would take it? Some grotty scumbag in the pub. Maybe he would have felt so worried about his precious coat he would have felt limited as to where he could wear it. He was just an ordinary bloke on not much of a salary, mixing with other ordinary people who bought their clothes in cheap outlets, and not that often at that. He thought it best to cut his losses and save for another coat, this time something more sensible like an all weather quilted jacket from Sports Direct. It would have to do. So he did, and was glad of the warmth, and the compliments from his mates down the pub. But one day he was in a charity shop browsing the book section when he saw a coat hanging up behind the till. It was a man’s camel overcoat. His heart skipped a beat. It was not his coat, not the quality, neither was it new, but looked good, and warm. On impulse he asked to try it on. The lady assistant took it down and showed it to him.

‘Its only just come in actually’

  Ricky tried it on, it fitted apart from the sleeves being too long. The assistant looked at him and smiled, and he smiled back. Somehow she knew it meant something important to him. He found himself looking at her for a comment, approval. She did not disappoint

‘Colour suits you, good fit across the shoulders’.

 He was transported back to the posh shop, where the sales assistant had said the same thing. He was grateful she didn’t comment on the sleeves being too long. He smiled at her, and said he would have it. With the same grace and understanding as before she said.

‘Good choice, I will find a bag to put it in’

Ricky watched as she disappeared out the back and returned triumphant with not just any bag, but a large handsome carrier with Selfridge's written across the front.

‘Thank you that will do me just fine’ 

He left the shop content, knowing his Mum would shorten the sleeves. He would wear this coat on appropriate occasions as an alternative to his North face weather proof jacket. He was back on track for putting the loss of the posh coat behind him and getting back to being his old self.

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins

The Appointment 3

 The Appointment

Jane Scoggin 

It was Tuesday and Joyce and Clive had an appointment at outpatients at 10.45am. It was only a twenty minute drive, but Clive knew that parking at the hospital was never easy. Being the ex-soldier that he was, he prided himself not only on having a sharp crease in his trousers and well polished shoes when he went out, but also on being punctual. He had worked out the time margins he would need to arrive ten minutes before the appointment given the traffic at that time in the morning and the parking when he got to the hospital. Joyce was much less worried about these sorts of things because she had never been in the army and had never learned to drive. She left a great deal of organising daily life to Clive and was happy to do so. He was a good man, a kind husband, and as far as she could remember, had never been late for anything. However on this particular Tuesday, there was a hold up on the main road due to a lorry shedding its load of fruit and veg which put them back 10 minutes more than expected, and when they arrived at the hospital there was no room in the car park. Clive drove around the two car parks slowly, looking out for anyone that looked like they were going. After five minutes he was feeling a bit flustered and was checking his watch every minute as it ticked worryingly towards the appointment time. Fortunately, a space became vacant at 10.40 and once safely parked Clive felt some relief. They would have to hurry though as he wasn’t sure where exactly they had to go once inside the hospital foyer. There wasn’t a reception desk and no one in uniform to ask, so he suggested they set off down the corridor towards the consulting rooms in the hope they would find the right clinic.

 Fortunately, within a few minutes, Clive saw the name of the Consultant mentioned in the appointment letter above a door. Almost at the same time the door opened and a nurse appeared, asked his name, and started to usher him in.  They were now getting on for ten minutes late for the appointment. At the same moment Clive, on turning to his wife, realised that she was not behind him. He looked around him and back down the corridor but she was not there. He panicked and told the nurse his wife, Joyce seemed to have disappeared. He could see through the open door the doctor glancing at his watch as he stood up from behind his desk to greet him. The nurse indicated he should go in, and said she would go and look for his wife. Before she closed the door, the doctor told the nurse that he did not appear to have the notes for Mr or Mrs Jones. He asked her to check the trolley in the adjoining room to see if they were there. She agreed and hurried off to find the notes and Mrs Jones. Meanwhile, Clive anxious about the disappearance of Joyce became somewhat agitated and declined the offer of a seat. Remaining standing, he kept glancing at the door hoping the nurse would soon return with his wife. The doctor unaware of the missing Joyce asked Clive what was bothering him so much.

“Well, I’ve just lost my wife, and I'm worried about her,” he said crossly

Misunderstanding, the doctor replied

“I’m sorry to hear that Mr Jones, how long ago since you lost her?’’

 “Just a short while ago.  She came with me today and was here with me in the hospital. One minute she was there and then she was gone. I can’t understand it. She will be missing me.’’ 

The doctor made a note about bereavement counselling.

“Is there anyone who gives you any help or support at home Mr Jones?”

“We have always looked after each other doctor. We help each other, me and my Joyce. She needs me doctor, and I need to get her back”

The doctor made a note about possible support needed at home and a referral to the memory clinic. Mr Jones clearly wasn’t coping since the death of his wife and hadn’t come to terms with his loss. Clive kept looking to the door. When he heard a noise in the corridor he was twisting his hands in his cap nervously.

The doctor wished he had the notes for Mr Jones to give him a bit of background on the concerns raised in the referral from the GP. 

When the nurse opened the door with Joyce by her side Clive was so relieved he took her hands in his, as she smiled benignly at him.

“All safe and sound Mr Jones. I found her sitting by the broom cupboard waiting for the bus.”  She handed some notes to the doctor marked Mrs Jones. There were no notes for Mr Jones. 

  Mrs Jones politely addressed the doctor “How nice that you have come to see us today, I hope you will stay for tea, I'm sure we have cake, don’t we Clive? And this nice young lady too, who I just met at the bus stop.”

The geriatrician looked from Clive to Joyce and the penny dropped.

“Well now Mrs Jones, yes, tea would be lovely. Please take a seat. Thank you nurse, I think I’ve got the picture now.”

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins

 

 

 

 A Bouquet of Flowers 

By Jane Scoggins 

It had been a hot day, and even at 6pm, it was still very warm. He arrived at her flat hoping his best shirt still looked crisp and fresh and didn’t look sweaty. He was glad he had decided on the flowers and not the chocolates. The blooms were beautiful and expensive. He was sure she would love them. Their relationship was just taking shape and he hoped was becoming more serious. He wanted to continue to impress her. He had never had a girlfriend he felt so much for. The blinds were down at her downstairs apartment window keeping out the remaining heat of the day, and the window was open. He could hear her on the phone laughing and chatting to a girlfriend. He decided to wait a few minutes rather than ring the bell and have her tell her friend to hang on while she opened the door. He wanted to see her face when she saw the bouquet without any distractions to spoil the impact. He wasn’t much into girly stuff so was not interested in the content of their chat, but couldn't help hearing her say very animatedly

 “He is gorgeous. I wish he was mine. Eyes to die for. Snuggling up would be divine. No, you are right, my Mum probably wouldn't approve, so I won't tell her. It's time I had a bit of something to liven things up for me and keep me on my toes. What about John? I hadn't thought about him to be honest. Like it or not he will just have to accept any decision I make.  Yes, I do like him a lot but I wouldn't say we are a proper couple yet. I think it best I spend time with Ben first and get to know him better.”

  John wished he hadn't heard the conversation, It had made him realise his worst fears that Caroline was playing with his affections. He felt deflated, unworthy of her. Punching above his weight. Of course, he knew she was popular and had admirers. And he with his pebble spectacles and his less than trendy gear just couldn’t compete. He should have realised sooner he was on a fools errand. He turned to go with the sound of Caroline's lovely voice fading as he walked back down the path and towards the bus stop.

  So he didn't hear the remaining telephone conversation.

   “ I must go now Liz. John is coming round this evening and I need to freshen up, get changed, and put on a bit of makeup. He may not be my usual type, but he is growing on me. He is so kind, funny and intelligent. I didn't think we had much in common at first but the more I get to know him and his quirky self, the more I like him. I am beginning to realise that maybe all those other blokes I've been involved with were not for me after all. He said he was not really a doggy person but if I do decide to take on Ben, I'm sure he will be fine. Having a bouncy puppy to take on walks and cuddle up to on the sofa, may be what we both need to bring a bit of fun and zing to our budding relationship. So bye, for now. I will let you know how I get on”

   On the way home John made two decisions. To give the bouquet of flowers to his Gran, and to accept the offer of the job in Dubai after all. A fresh start for him and his heart.

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins

The Other Woman

 The Other Woman 

By Jane Scoggins 

They were standing by the kitchen sink washing up the dishes after their evening meal. Lisa stacking the dishwasher and rinsing their glasses before cleaning the sink. Chris drying the glasses and wiping the table. A routine they had enjoyed companionably for years. The children were staying overnight with her Mum and they had the evening together to look forward to. Lisa was happy until he cleared his throat and out of the blue said quietly.

“I’ve met someone else”

  Of course she thought she had misheard him, so turned to him with her hands dripping with soap suds and said quite simply.

  “What did you just say?”

  “I’ve met someone else” he said again looking her in the eye.

  She didn’t know how she didn't fall down dead with shock and disbelief when the reality of what he was saying hit her. Standing stock still by the sink as he expanded on the brief cruel, hard hitting statement. His voice was gentle but every word cut like a knife. He eventually managed to persuade her to sit at the table with him. After silent shock came floods of tears and then came anger and distress. Not towards him, whom she had loved since she was eighteen, and thought he had loved her back all these years, but HER who must have schemed and cajoled to take him away.  She must be some sort of wicked temptress; someone from his office of course. Where else would he meet another woman? He was a home loving man who loved his wife and kids to the moon and back he had led her to believe. Their relationship had always been solid and they had never had any doubts about each other. They did everything together and she could hardly remember an occasion of a cross word. They were settled as a family in a nice house, they had two lovely daughters and a Disney holiday planned. How could this all have fallen apart in an instant without her having any clue? She thought of the children. It would break their hearts. She realised now that it had been Chris who had suggested they spend a night at Grandma's. He had engineered this evening to be alone with her so he could break the devastating news. With no resolution to be had from more talking Lisa eventually took herself off to bed and cried herself to sleep. Chris slept separately in the girls room. In the morning nothing had changed, it was all still the same nightmare as last night. Puffy-eyed and exhausted Lisa didn't know what to do. She wanted to fight back but didn't know how. They struggled through the morning together, agreeing that he would wait till their daughters were back from Grandma’s and then explain that Daddy had to go on a working trip while they worked out the details of a possible separation. Although Chris had refused to tell her the name of the woman Lisa quite quickly worked out who it must be. She thought she would confront her and tell her to back off from ruining her life and that of her children. If that didn’t work she would appeal to her conscience and plead with her to give him back and find a single man. If that didn't work she would have to think of something more drastic. She was not going to give up easily on the man she loved. When her mother offered to have the children on a Friday night after school Lisa took the train to the city and waited for the attractive woman she knew to be her rival to come out of the office at 6pm. She had renamed her Jolene like in Dolly Parton’s song. She was joined by another woman and they made their way to a nearby wine bar. Lisa followed pulling her scarf over her head. It would be tricky to confront her there so she would bide her time. They were laughing and Lisa felt anger and hate. It was dimly lit in the wine bar and Jolene and her friend were near the bar at the back of the room. Lisa went to the Ladies room to consider her next move. Putting her hand in her bag for her comb she felt the packet of pills she had been taking to get her through the nights. They knocked her out for hours and blocked out her unhappiness. If only that woman knew what she had done to her. Going to the bar she ordered a glass of white wine. The room was busy already with local office workers and gradually more men and women began spilling in through the door laughing and chatting, looking forward to the start of the weekend. Lisa saw their joy but felt none for herself. Although Jolene was clearly in her sights Lisa still did not have the courage to approach her, so she finished her glass of wine and watched. She wanted to do something that would have an impact. That woman needed to experience her anger and distress. And then she had an idea. She accidentally but on purpose knocked into Jolene as she walked behind her and spilled her drink as she was about to take a sip. Lisa insisted on getting her another drink, inwardly smiling with a feeling of malice as Jolene tried to dry the contents of her wine glass from her skirt and silk blouse with a tissue. After buying another glass of wine for her enemy Lisa left the bar with a feeling of great satisfaction.

 

   Two days later Chris was in contact asking for forgiveness. The affair had not lasted. In fact, it had never started, and he had been staying with his mother. She had urged him to put things right with Lisa. He was distressed and asked her if she would have him back. The woman had been someone who worked in the sandwich bar where he bought his lunch. Under pressure at work, she had been so kind to him and he had been grateful for her support. A mutual attraction had developed. They had been meeting after work for a drink. He had totally misunderstood his feelings. Lisa and Chris met the following day. Upset by their short period of separation Lisa wanted reconciliation. She thought about her trip to the wine bar and how she had got the identification of her rival completely wrong. She felt horribly guilty about what she had done there. She asked Chris to come home and flushed the rest of the tranquillisers down the toilet.

 

 Lisa listened with shock when Chris told her what had happened to a female friend and colleague at the office. She had had a terrible accident outside a wine bar near their office. Apparently, she had somehow toppled from the pavement onto the road, hitting her head on the curb, and was badly injured by a passing vehicle. She was in a coma, maybe with brain damage. A friend who had been with her at the time had said she had become drowsy while in the wine bar and had gone outside for air. It had been shocking news for Chris. But even more so for Lisa. She had got it all so terribly wrong. That poor innocent woman. Lisa knew she would never be able to erase from her memory the events and consequences of that evening.

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

Wish You Were Here

 Wish You Were Here 

By Jane Scoggins 

   Gwen’s trip to the charity shop started a few months after her husband Jim had passed away. It had been the Macmillan nurse who had suggested that Gwen might like to give some of Jim’s clothes to the hospice shop. Although she had nursed Jim through his illness, and knew that time was short, she had still been completely overwhelmed by grief when he died. The visiting nurses had given such a professional and supportive service to them both. After his passing the nurses had continued to visit regularly through the practicalities and emotional turmoil she found difficult to cope with. For the first few months Gwen found comfort in opening Jim’s wardrobe or chest-of-drawers and  holding a piece of his clothing to her face to breath in any lingering smell of him, or  to stroke a favourite wool sweater. At the point she felt it was the right time to sort out Jim’s clothes she asked one of the nurses what she thought she could do with her husband’s good suit, his sheepskin jacket and the almost new shirts and sweaters. The nurse, sensitive to Gwen’s emotions suggested she may like to donate them to the hospice charity shop. Jim had been cared for several times in the local hospice for short periods to review his medication and give Gwen a break from his care. She thought this a good idea, and the nurse offered to take them when she was ready to pack them up. Time passed and Gwen coped better with her grief. She ventured out more to spend time with friends. During a visit to the town she ventured into the charity shop. She was relieved not to see any of Jim’s clothes on the rails, afraid she might become tearful. Browsing in the shop she chose to buy a couple of books, a CD and a slim glass vase, just right for a bloom or two from her small garden. On the way to the counter to pay, something hanging from a hook caught her eye. It was a cloth bag made from deep purple velvet. It looked homemade and the things that made it distinctive were the badges pinned or sewn onto the front flap. Intrigued Gwen looked closer. The sewn on badges were from Cornwall, Paris, Nice, Moscow, Sri Lanka and Chile. Gwen could only imagine what it was like to travel the world, but she and Jim had been to Cornwall many times in their camper van and it held many happy memories. The pinned on badges were of Greenpeace, CND, Amnesty International and Love Books. The bag and its badges somehow resonated with Gwen and impulsively she took it to the till with the book CD and vase she had also selected.

At home Gwen put on the kettle and the CD. She hummed along to the Songs of the 70’s and examined the bag again. Smiling at her impulsiveness for buying a  rather well worn bag for the badges, she felt her spirits lift. Having made a mug of tea she reached for the sugar bowl and knocked the mug over. Hot tea spilled over the worktop where the bag sat. The bottom of the velvet fabric thirstily soaked up the tea and left very little to mop up. Dismayed, Gwen reached for a cloth and tried to sponge it clean but soon realised that it would need more serious attention. Putting the plug in the sink, Gwen ran the tap and dunked the soggy bottom of the bag in the cold water. After lifting it out Gwen began to squeeze the water out. The base was heavy with sodden cardboard or padding  so snipping away some stitches she reached in to remove it. To her surprise it was not cardboard but a plastic bag with two neat piles side by side of 20 pound notes wrapped in cloth and with a letter:

  ‘Dear stranger,

I am so glad you have my bag and have discovered this hidden treasure trove. It is a gift for you.

 

Yes, it really is. Let me explain. After many years as a free spirit travelling, and supporting good causes close to my heart, I am now housebound and reliant on others for the first time in my life and having to live any unfulfilled dreams  through others. I have decided to give away some of my possessions and treasures. The velvet bag I was undecided about but hoped I would take pot luck and give it away in the hope that someone else would treasure it and discover the hidden money. I would like you to use the money to fulfil a dream. Life is short and we should enjoy it whilst we can. Of course you may decide to pay your electric bill or have the house painted that is up to you. But I hope that if you are the person I think you are, you will take a leap of faith and do something out of the ordinary. The Norwegian fjords, the Northern Lights, The Rocky Mountains are all spectacular. If it is peace you prefer, a Hebridean croft. I have been living in Essex for some time but feel the time is right now to return to my native Cornwall. If you decide to follow a dream I have included a PO Box number. And if you wish, and only if you wish, perhaps you would write and tell me of your adventure.

Wishing you happiness

Rose  

 After Gwen had read and re read the letter she sat thoughtfully for a while before saying out loud

 ‘Well Jim, what a bolt out of the blue this is! But I am not going to waste an opportunity, I'm going to do it Jim. I'm going to do what we always said we would do together; if and when we had the time and money. I'm going to Nepal to walk in the Himalayan mountains, stay in a teahouse and watch the sunrise from the Annapuri Sanctuary. You will be with me all the way, and I will send Rose a postcard. 

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins     

Crow

  

Crow 

By Jane Scoggins

 

That wicked bird

That wiley one

Black of heart and wing

 

That hooded thief

With watchful eye

Plumage dark as coal

 

He caws and dives

Like a feathered jet

Soars to scruffy nest

 

Bright clever knave

In parliamentary heights

Grips the swaying branch

 

Watching laughing for the chance

To swoop and scare

The unsuspecting sparrow

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins

  Protesting 

By Jane Scoggins

Joe took his TV dinner from the oven and carried it on a tray to the sitting room. He put the tea cloth with which he had carried his hot dinner on the little coffee table before setting down his dinner plate. The little Ercol table was one of three in a nest that fitted neatly together one on top of another. Joe was always very careful when using any of the three, as the tables, had been treasured pieces of furniture since he and his wife Margie had received them as a wedding present many years ago from an aunt, long since dead. He was proud to say that they were still in excellent condition, with no marks on them. 

They had been regularly polished through the years, although in recent years Margie had not been so keen, and left this task more or less to Joe.

She had said, ‘Now I know about the cutting down of the Amazon Forest and the damage it does I am less inclined to polish this wood. It was probably cut down illegally, is not a sustainable variety, and will have taken away vital trees and land from the local people, reducing vital resources and increasing poverty’

Joe had not given any thought to this before, or the history of the much-loved tables. A bit taken aback and not wanting to annoy his wife, he shrugged and made some sort of placatory comment. Margie had since become more involved in reading about other environmental issues. She joined Greenpeace and became involved in their anti-whaling campaign ‘Save the Whales’ Joe was a purser on a ship at the time and knowing how much rubbish got heaved overboard almost daily when out at sea, not to mention the occasional fuel spillage, however small and not reported on, he kept quiet and did not mention these things to Margie when he was home on leave. He enjoyed his job and didn’t want to spark Margie into another campaign that might impact him and his employment. Joe turned on the TV and then carefully slid the little table across the carpet to just in front of his armchair. Reaching for his slippers under the chair he slipped them on and settled back into the comfy depths of the chair. He had returned that day from his life on the ocean waves and was looking forward to a few days rest. He wasn’t sure where Margie was, or when she would be back. He had gotten used to coming home and finding she was about to set off to join a campaign or had already gone on one. The last year he felt he had hardly seen her, but there again he had been away at sea a lot. He had accepted extra long shifts in an attempt to build up his savings and pension so he could retire early in the not-too-distant future. He thought he could then take on a local job and he and Margie could get back to spending time together like they used to. This drifting away from each other was not a good thing and their marriage was suffering. When was the last time they had been on a holiday or spent proper time together talking and listening to each other, he asked himself? He was doing things alone on his shore leave while Margie was busy or involved with Greenpeace. She had even spoken about putting herself forward for a voyage on their ship Rainbow Warrior. He had been silent on that one. He thought that was going a bit far. He had heard that these trips took months, across to the other side of the world. Joe started on his dinner, a lasagne tonight. He was hungry and looking forward to it, and an evening watching the box. He would message Margie this evening and see when she was coming home. He really must start paying her more attention.

During the evening Joe messaged Margie. When by 9pm he had not had a reply he tried phoning her. Her phone was turned off. Joe dozed and woke just as the music for the BBC Ten O’Clock news came on. He was feeling a bit groggy but alerted himself and sat up when he saw a picture of a large sailing vessel with a huge green and white banner across the side GREENPEACE. 

The newscaster said ‘Today the Greenpeace ship Rainbow Warrior set off on its voyage of education and protests against commercial whaling, nuclear testing and oil exploitation. It will sail around the world via Antarctica stopping at as many countries as it can. The voyage is expected to take at least 6 months.’

 Joe stared at the screen. When the camera zoomed in to see the figures of the people on board waving Greenpeace and Save the Whales banners Joe could clearly see Margie’s face, no doubt about it. And close beside her to his further shock and dismay, a tall handsome man with his arm around her waist. They were laughing and cheering. Joe had not seen Margie as happy as that for a long time. He realised then that perhaps she was not coming back to him, and he had lost her, not just to Greenpeace, protests and campaigns but to another man, with whom she had more in common. He had to ask himself whether protesting about it would do any good…

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins

Halloween

 Halloween 

Jane Scoggins 

We had had a good night out at the Travellers Joy pub in Rayleigh, me and the girls. Six of us old friends. It had been ages since we had had a night out together, before the Covid pandemic struck in fact. We had all had Covid at some point over the last 18 months or so. Jenny and I had been really poorly and Jenny still didn't feel 100% but apart from a lingering cough for a month after, the other girls hadn't been too badly affected. Anyway we were all glad to have survived intact. Both Ann and Clare had lost a loved one during the lock downs. Ann her Nan, and Clare her Granddad who had been in a nursing home. Neither had been able to visit and say goodbye. A horrible time it had been. We were all triple vaxed up and ready to celebrate all the missed birthday celebrations and Christmas get togethers. We all arranged to get a taxi home or have our partners pick us up by11pm. At11 pm I was the only one left to be picked up. My partner Tony had texted to say there had been a bit of a hold up on the A127 but was on his way. The pub was ready to close so I was waiting outside on the little terraced balcony.  We had had a scorching summer and although it was the end of October it was quite mild. There was virtually no traffic passing at that time of night and not a soul about. It was quite nice waiting in the quiet gloom. We had all had quite a lot to drink, me included, which was unusual, but I felt mellow rather than inebriated. After 10 minutes or so I thought I would walk around the car park a bit to avoid starting to get cold. It was getting a bit misty and the Halloween pumpkins dotted about were looking a bit spooky with their funny cut out eyes and mouths. One of the flats across the road had one lit up in the window which looked more cheerful than scary.

After a while, I stood nearer the road to look out for Tony as the pub lights were now turned off. All was silent and then I heard a muffled voice somewhere near but no actual person to be seen. I thought it must be my imagination until I distinctly heard a young voice say:

 ‘Miss, Miss’.  I looked around but there was no one. And then I saw a most extraordinary thing that so shocked me  I was rooted to the spot. Looking down I saw what looked like a hand appearing out of the ground. Impossible I thought. Then it moved and stretched its fingers. It looked like the hand of a young male. I looked closer, yes I guessed, a young man’s weather beaten hand. The air was beginning to feel cooler and a bit damp. Whatever I had drunk that evening had definitely gone to my head. The voice came again. ‘Miss Miss’. The voice seemed to be coming from below the ground and then with a swirl of mist it rose above the ground and was very close. I waited, still rooted to the spot. The voice came again nearer to me.

‘Miss, my name is James. James Cook. I died a very long time ago.

‘How long ago,’ I heard myself ask. As if it mattered at all.

‘In 1829 Miss’ came the disembodied reply.

‘ It was wrong Miss, a miscarriage of justice Miss, I never done what they said I had. Mr Green the farmer I worked for said I set fire to his property Miss, and they believed him and took me off to prison. It broke my Mam’s heart it did. I had to go to court. There had been a few arsons about that time what with all the dissatisfaction with farm worker's conditions. Everyone working on the land was frustrated. They had taken our contracts away and we only got what we worked for, so during the winter if there was nothing much to do ‘cept feed the animal no one got paid until planting time in Spring. It was hard to survive, and some didn't. I was 15 at the time and although headstrong didn't have any evidence, so it was my word against Mr Green’s. He didn't like me one bit. He had a nasty temper and worked me to the bone. He beat me once too. He was a horrible man. His wife was scared of him. When his daughter Molly even dared look in my direction he would shout and ball at me and reduce my dinner ration. I would of left if I could but my Mum was a widow and couldn't really afford to keep me in food. In fact I used to scrump apples and plums for her and a handful of corn for her 3 chickens now and again to help her out. It was the only way. But I did hate him and he knew it. I don't know who did torch his barn, he was not liked by anyone, but it weren't me. But he was determined to punish me for anything he could and apart from being asleep in another barn, I had no alibi. He was an influential man was farmer Green. I stood no chance. I'm sure my Ma believed me but what good was that to her. I couldn't help her out anymore.  I never thought  for me it would come to the gallows, but with all the unrest with farm workers and labourers and the arson attacks the judges were coming down hard to try and frighten folk and stop it happening.’ 

There was a pause while I digested this information as best as my fuddled brain could. He carried on with what sounded like a little sob in his voice.

 I was shocked to hear the judge say ‘The sentence of the court upon you, is that you be taken from this place to a lawful prison and thence to a place of execution, and that you be hanged by the neck until you are dead. And may the Lord have mercy on your soul’

‘Where you are standing now Miss, is where the gallows stood, and where I was hanged. Walking up those steps with townsfolk standing watching was horrible. I dared look up at them standing there. I told my Mother not to come and I was glad not to see her face. But I did see my brother. He was crying so pitifully I had to look away. I never knew who burnt down farmer Green’s barn. It could have been anyone with a grudge or it could have been an accident. But I was blamed and had my life ended cruelly and wrongly. I was barely 16 years of age. I can never settle. I am troubled and restless. Tonight is Halloween when many spirits are abroad. Most living folks do not have the spiritual power to believe in the spirit world so do not hear or see us. You have heard me though and it has helped me that you have listened. Do you believe me?’ 

‘ Yes, I do,’ I heard myself say almost in a whisper. 

Just then I am alerted to Tony’s car lights as he swings into the pub car park.

 He stops the car and leans over to open the passenger car door. Before I get in I look all around me in a slow 360-degree movement. Nothing to see or hear. Tony calls me to get in. Giving me a peck on the cheek as a welcome he says laughing.

‘ Good Lord love. Good night with the girls then? You look like you are three sheets to the wind, or have you just seen a ghost? Well, it is Halloween. Let's get you home, you definitely don’t look quite right.

I am silent as we drive home. Was that real or just my imagination?.

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins

BELLA

 BELLA 

Jane Scoggins  

   They all sat beside Bella as she lay lethargically on the sofa. Joanne was trying not to cry but it wasn’t working very well and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes and threatening to spill down her cheeks. Lyn reached over and squeezed her hand. They couldn’t bear the thought of losing her but knew it was only a matter of time.

Bella was loved by all who knew her, not just Joanne and Lynn who had lived next door since they were young children, and used to seeing her almost every day. They were always in and out of each others houses. The girls remembered when Bella used to call in and see them if they were unwell. She brought them presents even when it was not their birthdays or Christmas. Not only was she very loving but also a real character who could make people laugh even on a bad day. And there had been a few of those over the years. When Dad was taken ill suddenly and Mum was in a state about it Bella took it all in her stride and kept the girls company watching TV comforting them as best she could. As they grew older they felt they could confide in her their secrets and worries

 
So with Bella getting on in years and decidedly poorly everyone was feeling upset. Not responding to the last lot of medication was an indication that Bella may not recover, but no one wanted to admit it. Word spread amongst the neighbours and a few called in to say hullo. Bella had lost interest in food which was most unusual, as she had always loved eating. So much so that she had had to go on a diet the previous year so she could get up and down stairs without getting out of breath.  

  As expected Bella passed away peacefully at home surrounded by her family. The neighbours were invited to a little wake at home on the day she was cremated. Her ashes were sprinkled on the flowerbeds she loved so much and under the Rowan tree, she liked to sit under in spring and summer. Mr Grumpy down the road was not invited. He had never really liked Bella and neither she him. He had always said that cats were smelly creatures and he really disliked them not just because they brought on his asthma but pooped in his garden, and tried to catch and eat the birds that came to his precious bird table. But no one gave Mr Grumpy a second thought that day.

Copyright Jane Scoggins

 

 

For The Love Of Dad 

Jane Scoggins

 He looked like he had had too much to drink. He was slumped against a tree when Jim and Tony walked by on their way to the fishing lake one Saturday morning. The brothers had grown up going fishing with their Dad. Now in their forties and Dad recently passed away, they liked to continue the tradition.  They hadn't seen each other for a couple of weeks so were engrossed in chat when they passed the man. They'd been young men themselves who had often drank too much on a Friday night. They had not paused their conversation but had glanced and made their own similar assumptions. A young man nicely dressed and wearing good shoes sleeping off a heavy evening’s drinking propped up against a leafy tree, head down, on a warm Saturday morning. Jim and Tony set up their camping chairs and propped up their rods ready to prepare the bait. They were the only two fishing that morning and soon settled into almost silent companionship. It was a couple of hours before Jim said he was hungry. He’d left his sandwiches in the car so headed off to get them. He passed the young man still sleeping. On the way back he decided to check if he was OK. 

  ‘You OK mate?’ No reply. He tried again a bit louder. ‘You OK mate?’  

Still no reply or movement, so he bent nearer and touched his shoulder. The young man’s head remained bent forward into his chest. Jim gave him a gentle shake and the man slid sideways and the movement turned his head. His eyes remained closed. His face was pale and Jim wondered if he was breathing. He felt a sense of anxiety about what he might have discovered. He ran halfway around the lake to where Tony was sitting quietly and still, his eyes intently on the water and the end of his rod where he thought a perch was about to bite. Jim’s noisy arrival put a stop to that and Tony looked up annoyed. Jim breathless and afraid told his brother he thought the man they had seen was dead. Hardly believing this could be true he nonetheless jumped up and ran back with Jim. Tony agreed that he thought the man was actually dead, and fumbling for his mobile phone phoned 999 for an ambulance, and the police.

The ambulance arrived within 20 mins and very quickly established that the young man was indeed dead, and had probably been so for quite a few hours. Jim and Tony felt sick with guilt but were reassured by the paramedic that the man would have been dead before they arrived that morning. The police took their statements and seeing how upset they were suggested they pack up their fishing gear and head off home before forensics arrived.

 When Julia heard on the news about the unidentified young man that had been found dead near the fishing lake she thought about a family that would be grieving. She had lost her father in a car accident and knew what terrible grief from an unexpected death felt like.  It was only recently that she had allowed herself to start having fun again. One of her friends had persuaded her to go with a group of girls on a Hen weekend in Manchester. Eight of them including the bride, Ella, had booked the whole thing 3 months before the wedding. Arriving by train on a Friday they had the whole weekend planned. Champagne cocktails at the bar before dinner and then to sample a couple of nightclubs. Saturday they planned a lie in before an afternoon shopping and then to a big nightclub venue where Magic Mike would be performing with other male stripper’s. None of the girls had ever seen male strippers and were looking forward to it. Sunday afternoon after brunch and champagne they would head home. The first club on Friday night was not to their liking, so they moved on to Zoom. Much better, and by 10pm it was buzzing, crowded and lots of fun. Two long bars that ran either side of the club with white leather topped bar stools, and an array of colourful bottles on the illuminated glass shelves. The young barmen competed with one another to put on a show of mixing, shaking and pouring exotic cocktails to the bevvy of girls sitting on or crowded round the bar stools. Julia and her friends had never seen anything like it and loved every minute. They sampled a number of cocktails in-between dancing on the underlit glass dancefloor, with the glitterball revolving its rainbow sparkles over their heads. When their eyes met on the dance floor Julia was instantly attracted to him and they spent most of the evening dancing together.  He asked for her phone number and even though she lived many miles away they agreed to meet up again. The rest of the weekend was exciting and wonderful and the girls had a great time together. On Sunday evening Mark phoned Julia and asked to see her again. Over the next weeks, they met regularly somewhere in between where they both lived on the train line. They had great days out, Mark brought her little gifts and was very attentive. Julia started to fall in love. On one occasion he came to meet her with a friend in tow. She thought it was nice that he wanted her to get to know his friends. When he went to the gents and then to order some drinks he said to Julia ‘Entertain Michael while I'm gone will you?’  He was gone a while. Mark’s friend took the opportunity to sit closer to Julia and make a pass at her, telling her he thought she was gorgeous. Julia was shocked when he slid his hand up her leg to the top of her thigh. She moved away quickly and Michael smirked. When Mark came back nothing was said and Michael left. When she told Mark about it he just laughed it off. 

  ‘I would have been happy for you to give him a bit of a kiss and a cuddle. I don't mind sharing you’ Julia didn’t much like the sound of that but thought she was being a prude, and taking it too seriously. Men had come on to her before, but now she was with Mark she didn't want to deal with that anymore. It took her some time to realise the truth, and she was shocked. At first, she cried but then decided she was strong enough to deal with it. She met with Mark a couple more times before telling him it was over between them. He had become quite possessive and didn't like the idea of losing her. Julia knew that he would want to see her again and wouldn't be happy to let her go. He told her he would come and see her and ask her to explain why.

He came, she made a meal and they drank wine. When he went into the bathroom she knew he was taking cocaine. It had taken her some time to realise the extent of his drug use. And that he was a supplier and a controller of underage vulnerable girls and boys for prostitution and as county lines carriers of drugs across the country. He was trying to involve her in carrying drugs and share her with other men. He had spiked her drinks, and later realised she had been raped. She knew she could not easily if at all extricate herself from this man without danger to herself. So she had stolen some of his drugs over the last few meetings. She added them in high doses to his food and drink when he was already under the influence of cocaine. Later in the evening, she suggested they take a walk down by the fishing lake. It was getting dark and there was no one about. The drug cocktail was taking effect. When Mark became unsteady he sat down under a tree. Julia watched as he convulsed. She withdrew and watched until she thought he was unconscious. With gloves on, she searched his pockets and removed everything that could connect her to him. She put his roll of banknotes in his inside jacket pocket and bag of cocaine and amphetamines in another inside pocket. She waited in the bushes trembling until she heard him vomit and then the sound of choking. When all was quiet she checked his pulse with a gloved hand and went home under cover of darkness. Nobody came forward and the verdict was misadventure from a drug overdose of a habitual user. Case closed. Julia’s Dad had been mowed down by a drink and drug fuelled driver who had smiled in court. He had been given a three year sentence. If she was ever found out, she reckoned on two years for good behaviour. That was a price she would readily pay for Dad.

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins

 The Birthmark 

Jane Scoggins 

A hot July day in Southend On Sea and Jackie and Julie linked arms and strolled along the seafront towards the ice-cream kiosk.

‘Not a cloud in the sky’ said Jackie as she raised her face to the sun. ‘What a perfect day’ 

Julie squeezed her mum’s arm and felt a bit sad as she felt the thinness of her arm. And put to the back of her mind her Mum’s sadness. How unfair she thought to herself before turning and beaming at her mum. 

‘I told you it would be a beautiful day today and Southend has come up trumps.’

Southend had been a last minute decision for a day out.

‘There are a couple of deckchairs free over there, you go and sit on one and I will get us ice-creams.’ 

Julie came back laughing with two ice creams melting down the sides of the cones and dropped down into the second deckchair beside Jackie. They sat silently for a few minutes eating their ice creams conscious of the hot sun in a race to melt them before they were reduced to a completely sticky mess.

They sat watching the world go by; secretly storing up their observations to share and talk about later when they were out of earshot of the subjects of their observations.

They had always loved people watching and it was something that bound them together as mother and daughter. They had the same sense of amusement. Julies Dad hadn’t quite got it but he was always tolerant and indulgent and accepted that he was not on their wavelength as far as humour was concerned.  Today was the second anniversary of his death, and wife and daughter had visited his grave first thing that morning and laid down two red roses beside his headstone. Dad had been so proud of his ‘two beauties’ as he had called them, with their thick auburn hair and brown eyes. A thorn between two roses he had called himself as he put his arm around the pair of them.  He had always wondered how a geek like himself had managed to capture the heart of such a beautiful vivacious girl as Jackie. But capture her heart he had, and many happy years together had followed. 

A simple tale of love and loss. A group of teenagers laughing and jostling, chatting and happy went past. The girls in cut off denim shorts with wide leather belts on their hips, skimpy striped bikini tops with shoestring ties.  Growing up Julie had always been conscious of an operation scar on her chest and shoulder and had always been reluctant to show much upper body bare skin in public.

Mother and daughter sat for a while longer enjoying the day and observing the passers by. A middle-aged couple strolled past holding hands and Julie thought ‘That should be my mum and dad’. When the man turned around to look at her Julie thought she must have spoken out loud without realising, felt a bit embarrassed and automatically put her hand to her mouth as if to stop any further inappropriate thoughts escaping. 

The man paused and the woman looked on expectantly as he looked again at Julie and then to her mother.  His hand also went to his mouth as if wanting to delay his speech before he committed himself to speaking...  He directed his words carefully and hesitatingly to Jackie. ’You aren’t by any chance Jackie Mills are you?’ Julie looked at her mum and Jackie looked at the man and for a couple of seconds, there was silence as she looked searchingly at his face.

‘Yes I am’ she said hesitatingly, clearly not as yet making any connection with whoever the man was...

And then the penny dropped and with caution, she said ‘And are you Dave Fox by any chance?’

Simultaneously they both beamed at one another in complete recognition.

Jackie rose as quickly and as elegantly as was possible from the awkward position of sitting in a low slung deckchair, clutching her handbag and cardigan.

 Dave Fox stepped forward and took her hand. ‘Jackie Mills I cant believe it, after all these years. You have hardly changed at all.’ 

 Jackie’s hand self consciously went to smooth her once abundant burnished chestnut hair that had been her crowning glory, and for which she was known and recognised through her teens. She had turned the heads of many a young man with her pretty face and gorgeous hair. Dave had been one of those young men. To look at him now, a man that had not reached middle age unscathed in terms of hair thinning and lines on his face he was not readily identifiable to the untrained eye as the cool handsome slinky hipped youth who sang with a band and had a following of girls as long as your arm. 

‘Well, I never. can it really be you?’ Jackie looked into his face and then turned to her daughter. ‘Dave this is my daughter Julie’. 

‘I can see that, she is the living spit of you. And this is my wife Mandy.’

By way of explanation, Jackie explained to Julie that they had hung out together when they were young and that she used to travel about with him in a crowd when the band went to play at clubs and festivals.

After Dave and Mandy had said their goodbyes and gone on their way Julie and Jackie sat down again whilst Jackie gathered together her memories and shared them with Julie explaining that Dave was known as ‘The Fox that rocks’ Julie began to get a new view of her mother, as a rock chick, a groupie even. Julies mind is suddenly opened up to another world, one that she had not imagined her mother inhabiting. Her father had been a much more serious sort of man than Dave. She considered the contrast. 

When they got up to walk along the seafront looking for somewhere to eat Jackie continued to chat about the past. Meeting with Dave had prompted those dormant memories.

Julie also found herself thinking about Dave and her observations of him. True his face was no longer that of a handsome young rock singer, but he certainly had a twinkle in his eye. The most impressive part of him was his well-honed tanned upper body above his jeans. The day was hot and he had his T-shirt thrown across his shoulder.

It was not until he pulled his T-shirt from his shoulder as he said goodbye and turned to go that Julie could see the full extent of a rather beautiful and intricate tattoo that swept across his right shoulder and down onto his chest. Beneath the tattoo she was sure she could see an irregular patch of pink skin that was not tanned, and as if by coincidence almost matched the same scarred area on her own shoulder and chest where she had had a large birthmark removed as a child.

Copyright Jane Scoggins