'I'll be back at one'.
'Okay luv, don't forget my prescription'.
Kurt wondered if one day she would turn up at the café. She had threatened to many times, as if she didn't believe him, when he said he was going to Zoe's.
It was a good place to write, the far corner table with a view down past the counter, through the entrance and onto the street beyond. From where he sat he could see all his characters enter and leave, as if they were acting out their lives on a stage.
There was Tanya, who always composed herself before she stepped inside. What dark secret was she hiding? One day, one day he would know. But today it was Gwen who had his attention. She was a regular like himself. Twenty years older but that didn't stop him enjoying her company, wanting to hold her hand, to kiss her, and him fifty-three. She was a retired registrar, who had worked in the Town Hall for forty-five years and was remembered by those who had a birth, death or marriage certificate bearing her signature, and remembered by her to the point that he never had a conversation with her without some kind of interruption, every one followed by a story, to which he would listen and claim as his own.
'I don't know where you get them all from Luv' said his wife. Karl didn't tell her about Gwen. She would not have approved of his stealing her stories. She accused him of much the same thing when it came to her life — that Karl had stolen it before it got going. She could have been a writer too. A better one of that she was sure. Instead she became a gardener, creating flower beds for the well-to-do and supermarkets until her knees gave out. It was then that she re-invented herself as a 'vertical gardener' and found success as a columnist and a part-time TV celebrity. If a show needed five minutes filling, then she would get a call.
It was their daughter who said 'Mum, don't knock Dad off his perch. I think he will fall badly'. She had laughed at the time but when Hamlyn Books appealed to her vanity, how could she resist?
'Luv, I'll be back this evening I promise' didn't go down well with Kurt, but that's another story for another day...
©Robert Howard, 11 July 2021.
Doesn't every good writer 'steal' stories from others, not whole ones but ideas and part ones? Little things can spark a whole story or character. Conversations heard at bus stops, on buses or trains, people watching at stations and in cafes,restaurants, town squares and shopping centres. Not to mention theatres, museums and galleries all rich with material and characters. Your forays into Dough Mother (which I must vist next time we come over) have certainly given you inspiration for many wonderful stories and this one is no exception. I wonder what happens next? See you soon:)
ReplyDeleteThank you Rosie. I’m sure we can get a couple of hours there together, to share a table with a paperbag or two each. Take care. Love Robert.
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