Miss Severalls led Katherine through the labyrinth that was the hidden, working side of the hotel, past the kitchen and the laundry room, which filled the corridor with a cloying mix of steam and smells, and into what was grandly referred to as The Exchange. ‘You will be paid weekly,’ Miss Severalls said, showing Katherine … Continue reading The Blind Daffodil (Part IV)
Katherine, breathless from running, was stopped short by the sight of The Paragon. The columns that framed the entrance, the high arches – atop which sat elaborate bronze figures of dancing women – the gleaming brass door handles, and the smartly-dressed doorman who visibly took a double take and looked away. She stood still and … Continue reading The Blind Daffodil (Part III)
The house was always dark. Even when the meter was fed and the lamps were on, there remained a heaviness to the rooms that went beyond the smoke in the air and the dust in the corners. Katherine, her patch on; her good eye weakening, would tilt her chin upward, so that she might see … Continue reading The Blind Daffodil (Part II)
A few weeks passed before Mrs Sayers admitted to herself that something was wrong. She was sat in the drawing room, smoking, staring into the middle-distance, turning over the events of the day. Katherine had played with her hand-me-down toys. Katherine had sung too loudly again, and will not be told. Katherine wouldn’t sit still to … Continue reading The Blind Daffodil (Part I)
At lunchtime the next Monday, Deborah took Francis to Steppleton Park. Amazed that he had not yet visited it in his nine months in England, she gave him the tour – from the gates of the old south drive, to the ice house in the far left corner of the park, then past the temple … Continue reading The Third Voice (Part III)
It was just after nine, and the department store had a dusty, somnambulant feeling to it. The security man barely noticed his entrance, and a woman manning one of the cosmetics counters openly yawned. Francis looked for the sign for ladies accessories, and took to the stairs. His hand trembled as it brushed over the … Continue reading The Third Voice (Part II)
Francis took his place at the window of the Giddens café at half-past two, where it had become his habit to sit until chucking-out time at six. Well, in truth, he had started leaving a few minutes early, before Angela could tell him – lovingly, but firmly – “we don’t get paid any extra, Francis, … Continue reading The Third Voice (Part I)
Janet, for her part, looked riveted, and was sat up straight. Dolores imagined her at the theatre during the climactic scene of a tragedy – the rest of the audience shielding their eyes while she, Janet, leaned forward, so that she might get a better view of the protagonist coming to grief. Dolores felt aghast … Continue reading The Absent Cellist (Part II)
When it was all over, Dolores decided she needed to speak to somebody. Somebody who wouldn’t feel the urge to speak to somebody else; a friend who had secrets of her own. She flipped through her address book, back and forth, and scanned the names until she found who she was looking for. Janet Baxter … Continue reading The Absent Cellist (Part I)
Alexander pestered me about it all summer, as we saved up the money for train tickets to the other side of the country where our distant cousin once lived. The copies came in instalments, and I hid them from him in a box beneath my bed. I decided to leave them unopened. I’m embarrassed to … Continue reading Our Distant Cousin (Part II)
DARK VICTORIES 