A few more chapters...

A few more chapters...please excuse the bits I haven't had a chance to proof read (pretty much all of it!)

Chap 4

Now

Agatha

"I'm just (hiccup) going to the kitchen to - no, don't get up, (hiccup)" she said to Ben, ever the gent, as she forcefully pushed back her chair to stand. "I'll be back in a why wheel...I mean wee while." She hiccuped again and scampered off to the kitchen. Not even the delightful after taste of the starter could cheer her up right now. She was struggling, though the added stress of too much alcohol wasn't helping. 
She cleared the plates away and shoved them into the sink...slightly noisily but she didn't think they'd notice. It wasn't their fault that they were at this stupid dinner party. 
With 1 night to go until Christmas, Agatha felt sure that they all had plenty of things they would rather be doing...seeing relatives, last minute wrapping - hell, even watching Home Alone with mulled wine in pyjamas. That's what she'd rather be doing anyway. But instead they were all having to endure each other's company, despite the fact they obviously had nothing in common and didn't actually like each other. She took one last minute of sanctuary from her kitchen then took a deep breath. 

Charles
'Wow,' thought Charles, 'that girl can make a noise when she's mad.' He stretched out in his seat, stretching his hands behind his head and looking up at the ceiling. There was no point trying to make conversation with anyone, they were all as bored as he was and in just 2 hours time they would never have to meet again. 

Ruby
Ruby had a song resounding in her head...she couldn't stop humming it in her mind. It was The Beat Goes On by Sonny and Cher and it was one of her favourites. She had played it for a while with one of the groups she used to play in but the song gave her bad memories so she never listened to it any more. But today, today the song popped into her head like an unwelcome flea pops onto a cat. She was aware of a banging coming from the kitchen but barely acknowledged it, focusing instead on keeping the memories at bay. 

Ben
Bens hands found his pockets, and he started fiddling with his phone, willing there to be a phone call or a text or SOMETHING to drag him away. No doubt Giles would be having a marvellous time at home with all his carers, then waiting for him on hands and feet. It was his job, Ben's job to be there for him, no one else's. But they had insisted he come. Oh the things he could be doing right now...wrapping a few last presents, catching up with some friends at the bar...watching a film in his Pjs with some mulled wine. 'What film would I watch' he thought trying to distract himself. 'Something Christmassy? Yeah, Misery, that's quite Christmassy...at least it's got snow in it.' His mind wandered in the silence until he was disrupted by a scream. 



Chap 5
3 years ago
Ruby 
Paul heard the sound of heels from behind and knew that she was here. The signature click-clack of her red sparkly heels, her homage to Dorothy. She was late of course, as always, and he was about to turn and reprimand her when a small figure jumped on his back and wrapped her legs around him. It caught him off guard but he was strong, he worked out, and she was but a feather. She clung on for dear life as he thrashed about, trying to get her off...it seemed that she was as strong as he, and certainly more fierce. They continued to wrestle for some time, both as determined as the other to reign as champion but soon his grunts of determination turned to laughter and he gave up, collapsing to the wall near him with weakness. 
"Yes! Though she be small she be mighty!" Ruby jumped off his back and ran a victory lap around his shaking body. "Loser!" she shouted in his face. He caught her eye and she stopped suddenly, caught unaware as she always was when he looked at her that way. He could always unnerve her with one look, one glance, one wink. She had not yet grown used to the effect he could have on her. She went to kiss him passionately, and they spent a few moments like that, under the lamppost, in the alley next to the club where she was about to perform in front of a growing crowd of fans. He pulled away. 
"Don't stop," she implored, searching his eyes and stroking his stubble. 
"Aren't you going to be late," he teased, wiping some of her smudged lipstick off her face. 
"Oh I don't care," she sighed, "I don't need anything else in my life, I just need you."
"Now come on," he said, pulling her hands down and holding them in front of him. "You can't let all those adoring fans down. It's a sell out in there tonight."
"I know," she sighed again, "but you know who's going to be on the front row? Old man Taylor with his bunch of cronies. Leering, accidentally falling as though they're tipsy whilst trying to cop a feel of my bum. I'm tired of them, I've had enough."
"But they love you here," he coaxed, "and you're on the brink of something big. Played on the local radio station, you're getting noticed babe. You just need to do a few more of these gigs then you'll be hitting the big time."
"I don't even know if that's what I want. I like my life, it's,..uncomplicated. I like uncomplicated."
"No-one ever made it by being uncomplicated Rubes, now come on, get going. You need to sparkle tonight...plus your makeup needs touching up."
She narrowed her eyes at him. 
"You saying I'm not beautiful without my sparkly make up?"
"Oh good grief no. I wouldn't dare."
"Love you big man." There was an awkward pause and Ruby suddenly realised that something was off about Paul tonight. Usually it was him using the 'L' word but he hadn't said it yet. In fact he hadn't told her recently at all. He looked down at the ground and shuffled from foot to foot. 
"Yeah...about that. Um, let's catch up after your gig, ok? Let's go for a drink."
Ruby narrowed her eyes at him and watched him for a moment. He looked uncomfortable and he was squirming. 
"How about we catch up now? What's going on?"
"I don't want to talk now, you'll be late. But I'll be here I promise. I may even take out old man Taylor's bad leg for you."
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."
He looked at his feet before quietly saying, "I'm really sorry Rubes but..."
"Ah, I get it, you love me too," she grinned, playfully punching his arm. 
"That's the thing...I do, kind of, but....oh man, I can't believe I'm doing this. I don't...I don't love you like that. Not really. I've been pretending for a long time, but I can't deny it any more...I just don't want to be with you any more."
"This is...a really nasty joke Paul, come on. I'm about play a gig."
"It's not a joke Rubes. I haven't really been busy the last few days I'm just...I've been avoiding you I suppose. I'm so, so sorry." 
"Why?"
"Look, let's go out for a drink after and I'll tell you. There are some things...things that I need to tell you."
Ruby looked at him intently and knew that he was speaking the truth. She suddenly felt her world crumble. She felt angry, hurt, shocked but not sad...she refused to mourn for this man who was trying mercilessly to break her heart. She would not cry. She wanted to hit him, wanted to scream. Instead she calmly said, "I don't think that's necessary, you've made yourself quite clear. I think I'll be on my way. Got a career to build without you." She turned and walked towards the club. There was no time, no room in her mind to stop and dwell on this. He was the love of her life, the only one who had got her to say those words. But she wasn't about to stop her life for him, she would not cry, would not be defeated by a broken heart. Yet she ached and she knew that if she stopped and turned around she would cry and never stop. She carried on walking towards the club. But something made her stop in her tracks. A shadow from the back door of the club...a silhouette she knew so well...he couldn't be here...
Paul saw her hesitation and caught up with her, placing his hand on his back. 
"Are you ok Rubes? You don't have to do this."
She looked at the man she loved, who had been her partner, her best friend and she whispered, "my dads here."

Chap 6
Ruby ran towards the club, her heart pounding, and flung the door open wide, ignoring the doorman who normally liked to search her bag even though she was a regular and never in possession of any drug, weapon or alcohol. He had his back turned to her but she's know this man anywhere. His tall frame, muscular shoulders, close shaved head, habit from years of being in the military. She hasn't seen him in so long...she spoke to him regularly, but to see him, to touch him and have one of his giant bear hugs? It was too much and she softly said "Daddy?"  
He whisked his head around and in two paces had crossed the distance between them and swept her up into his arms. She felt the weight of the world dissolve from her shoulders and she hugged him back with every ounce of love she had. In that moment nothing else mattered, the singing, the relationships? Not important. 
After some time he put her down, and wiped a stray tear away from her cheek. 
"What's happening my little Ruby Wednesday?" She laughed and held her fathers giant hand in hers.  
"Dad, this is the best gift I have ever received. I can't believe you're here."
"You look...you look so good. I can't believe how beautiful you are."
"You say that every time you come home."  
"And every time I mean it."
Ruby's dad had been in the army all her life and way before that. She was an only child who had been raised by a quiet and recluse of a mother, only seeing her dad for weeks at a time when he finally got leave. They had travelled all over the world, Ruby and her mum, packing the bare minimum every time and living in dingy military quarters, just to be near to Ruby's dad. The two women had very little in common, but this was one thing that United them. He was the centre of their world and all they wanted was to be close to him. 
Ruby's mother used to shine when he walked through the door, but he only ever had eyes for Ruby. He would smile kindly at this woman and as Ruby grew older she saw the pain that this caused. But the relationship had drifted apart and the only reason he came home at all was to see his daughter. 
The last time she had seen him was 2 years ago when he had called from a phone box in London to say he was home for the weekend and did she want to meet him? Well of course she dropped everything-rehearsals with the band, a night away with girlfriends and an interview for a new job, to see him for one day. Ruby never spoke to her mother much, she had moved out when she was 16 to live with an older man who was nothing except a mentor and best friend to her. 
Dave, the club manager, came running towards her, shouting and waving his arms angrily. 
"Uh oh," Ruby said to her father, "I'm in for it now. How long are you staying?" 
"I'll be here for you after sweetheart don't worry."
"But how long are you staying?"
"Ruby, you're late...look at the state of you!" Shouted Dave in her face. Saliva had gathered at the corner of his mouth and she was subjected to a spraying. 
"Dave, just a minute. This is my dad, he -"
"I don't care Ruby, if you're not on stage in 2 minutes you're..."
"I'm talking to my dad." She glared at the manager like the feisty firecracker that she was and refused to back down. 
"Ruby it's ok, I'll be here when you finish. I'm so excited to see you. Make me proud honey." He kissed her and nodded to Dave as he walked off to find a seat. 
Ruby couldn't believe it,,,she felt as if she was flying. Her dad had come to see her and she just knew he would be her number one fan. 
She managed to get through the set despite the niggling pain in the back of her mind that her relationship with Paul was over. 
A few hours later she was being applauded and cheered and she felt the happiest that she had ever felt. She hadn't taken her eyes off her father in case he disappeared, but she knew she'd given it everything she had. 
Finally the crowd let her leave the stage so she placed her guitar down gently and waved one last time before diving backstage to where her dad would hopefully make his way. She was thinking of all the places she would take him...they could go out for food to the Mexican that she loved - when someone grabbed her arm and stopped her in her tracks. 
It was Paul and he was drunk. It was unlike him but she didn't have time right then, she needed to get to her dad. But he wouldn't let her go and something about him just didn't seem right. 
"You've got a cheek. Let go of me," she cried, shoving him away from her. 
"I made a mistake," he slurred, "I'm sorry Rubes. I shouldna said anything." 
"I don't want to hear it Paul. Just go home and leave me alone."
Paul's hands were wandering over her back and shoulders, making their way to her face and she was about to knee him in the groin when her favourite person in the whole wide world bellowed "get away from my daughter."
Paul lost his grip on Ruby as she wriggled out of his grasp and he turned to see the man who was now towering over him. Max Devereux was a force to be reckoned with and ordinarily a man like Paul would have walked away, hands up in surrender. But a crazy confidence had possessed him and in his drunken state believed he could take him on. 
Paul staggered towards him and swung his arm wildly in the direction of the soldier. Max took a step back and let him exhaust himself. A few moments later and Paul had fallen onto his face and had a nose bleed. 
"Just go home mate, leave her be ok?" Said max, turning away from him to find Ruby. 
"She's a bitch, and you're welcome to her." 
It happened in a flash...max spun round on his heel and with a steel fist punched him in the side of his head, knocking him out cold. Paul slumped to the floor and a gentle stream of blood trickled down his face. 
"Dad, come on he's not worth it. Let's go, ok?" Ruby insisted frantically. The club was always having to deal with fights and as a result Dave had a no tolerance policy. She could see him now, heading towards them, look of anger on his face. 
Ruby grabbed her fathers hand and they headed to the door, though she glanced back at Paul once before they left. It was the last time she saw him. 

The incident with Paul hadn't really effected her - he was being a knob and deserved it - but seeing her dad like that, in a different light...it made her fear him slightly. Not that he would ever do anything like that to her, or even her mother for that matter. But she happened to glance at him and see something in his eye as he clenched his fist and punched. It was a grim satisfaction, a sort of lust that took over as his fist made contact. Ruby had never seen her dad like this and it scared her. 
They went for a Mexican however, her dad insisting that he treat her, then he drank vodka as though it were water. He started getting rowdier as the alcohol kicked in and before long he was guffawing loudly at her jokes and boasting about his talented daughter to anyone who would listen. 
There were a couple of people in the restaurant - an old lady at one table and a couple at the other, but it was already late, nearly closing time. 

Ruby looked out of the window as her father paid the bill and saw a police car drive past slowly. A couple of drunken men walked into the road and leered at the car but the police just ignored them. Ruby thought nothing of it and turned her attention back to her father who was now beginning to shout abuse at the waitress, claiming that she had overcharged him and that they didn't even order the nachos to start. Ruby stood up and went to pay herself, when two police officers walked into the restaurant and headed straight for her father. They calmly stood behind him and said "Mr Max Devereux? He spun round aggressively but stopped when he saw who it was. 
"That's me sirofficer. And how are you tonight?" he slurred, leaning up against the counter. 
"We would like to discuss an event which happened earlier tonight if you don't mind, sir." 
"What event? I been with my daughter all night, isn't that right Ruby?"
Ruby rushed to her dad and slid her arms around his waist. 
"That's right, he has been with me all evening. What's the matter?"
"It's concerning a Mr Paul Armstrong and an incident that happened at the club tonight."
"What's he said?" Ruby asked angrily, "he has no right to call you, it was his fault. He's such an arse."
"So you were at the club with Mr Armstrong then?"
"Well yes but he called my daughter a nasty name and I won't tolerate it, you know?" slurred max. 
"Mr Devereux I'm placing you under arrest -"
"What?" Shouted Ruby incredulously, "That's outrageous, what for?"
"For the murder of Paul Armstrong."


Chapter 7
Ruby could do nothing but stare as they led her father away, him glancing over his shoulder at her, trying to reassure her. 
"Don't worry babe, I'll sort this out, just go home and I'll see you in the morning. Love you Ruby."
Ruby was too shocked to move and suddenly collapsed to the floor just as the police car drove away. Although she remained conscious she was unaware of how long she spent lying on the floor until someone came and lifted her head, placing a coat underneath. It all seemed to be happening so slowly and she could hear strange sounds, as though she was swimming underwater. Her vision was blurred and she couldn't focus on the face now in front of her. She was waving something in front of Ruby's face and trying up force something into her lips...water, it tasted of water. Ruby felt a wave of nausea and started retching, though nothing would come up. She sat up finally and noticed that an old lady was kneeling beside her...the old lady who was sitting at the other table. She had a kindly face and although Ruby felt that she could trust her, she didn't want to talk to anyone, she just wanted to get to her dad. Ruby scrambled to her feet and mumbled her thanks to the lady, making her way to the door. Her legs felt like lead though and she could hardly move. The old lady took her by the shoulders and sat her into a chair. 
"Now sit here a minute, you're in no fit state to go anywhere. Cara, get this girl a sugary tea will you? She needs it."
"Isn't brandy better? My dad says that -"
"Your dad says brandy is good for anything, including alcoholism. Get me a tea."
"Alright," she rolled her eyes as she went behind the counter. "How many sugars do I put in?"
"3 teaspoons," the lady said curtly.  
"Is sweetener better, she looks like she needs to be on a diet," the girl continued, suddenly bringing Ruby out of her daze. 
"Cara Edwards, make that tea now...strong with 3 heaped teaspoons of granulated sugar and give it a good stir. I swear on your mothers grave that I will go back to where you live and tell your father that instead of going to school at 8 O clock in the morning you are actually going to Suzy Jenkins house to smoke pot in her dads shed."
Cara stood with her mouth wide open and blinked once at the old lady. Ruby was slowly beginning to wake from her dazed trance and found the situation in front of her rather funny. She giggled nervously, knowing she was being inappropriate but unable to stop. 
Cara looked at her crossly and stormed off behind the door to make a strong tea. This only made Ruby laugh harder and before long she had tears streaming down her face and had her hand covering her mouth. The old lady waited patiently, watching Ruby with pity. Finally Ruby stopped laughing, and suddenly she couldn't remember the reason she had started in the first place. This time the tears were falling for another emotion. 
"That's right love, let it out. You've had a shock, it's perfectly normal to behave strangely."
The couple in the corner couldn't take any more it seemed so they dropped some cash on the table and shuffled nervously out of the door, keeping their heads low. Cara came back in with the tea and sat down on the other chair. 
"I don't know what was so funny. I wouldn't be laughing if my dad got arrested for murder."
"Cara." The old lady gave her a warning look. 
"I knew there was something weird about him."
"Cara!"
"And to think he said that I had overcharged him...I'm not the criminal here. The cheek."
"Cara, into the kitchen now. You go there and you stay there until I tell you to come back."
"I don't want to. I want to stay here."
"Now young lady, and any more of your cheek and Suzy Jenkins will be a distant memory."
Cara held her hands up in surrender and sighed her way to the kitchen. Before she went in she couldn't resist one more comment. 
"Don't suppose I'll get a tip now, will I?" 
Ruby looked at the old woman sitting in front of her and felt her eyes fill with tears again. 
"Thanks but I don't drink tea," she said fighting back the sobs. 
"Take a few sips, it'll calm you down and make you feel better. I used to be police liaison officer and I can tell you right now that nothing calms the nerves like a nice cup of sweet tea." She patted her hand then watched as Ruby sipped the hot drink. It burnt her tongue and made her face wrinkle at the taste, but she did not feel strong enough to argue. 
"I remember this one time I had to go to a house where the poor man had lost his wife and two children in a car accident. I worked with him for 3 weeks solid, every day going round to comfort him, I saw him go through every emotion under the sun but every time the only thing that settled him was a sweet cup of tea."
Ruby nodded, barely registering what the woman had said.
"What's your name love?" She finally asked once she was satisfied the tea was staying down. 
"Ruby. Ruby Devereux."
"Not THE Ruby Devereux? The one on her way to the top?"
Ruby just nodded her assent. 
"Well, what a talent you've got, that's for sure. I've been to watch you a number of times now, I think you're a star."
"I don't recognise you," Ruby said with a puzzled look on her face.
"Oh that's because I always sit at the back...old man Taylor had a thing for me a few years ago and now I avoid him like the plague. He doesn't see me if I'm at the back, his eyesights too bad."
Ruby smiled despite herself. The tea must be working. 
"What are they going to do to my dad?"
"Well I presume he's still in active duty?"
"Yes."
"Well then the military police will come for him soon, he'll be taken back to base where he will have a trial eventually."
"How can this have happened? He only punched him once."
"Sometimes that's all it takes."
Suddenly shouts came from the kitchen area and cara could be heard swearing and cursing at someone. She came bursting back into the restaurant, arms folded and leaned against the bar. The old woman raised her eyebrows at her and cara tutted and rolled her eyes again, leaving the bar and going back to the kitchen. 
The old woman talked to Ruby as she continued sipping her tea, distracting her from the overwhelming problem she was facing. Because Ruby was facing the worst challenge of her life,,,not only was her father in prison but her recently ex boyfriend was dead. She loved him, she would never fully understand the reason he finished with her. And he wanted to tell her...she should have let him, instead of putting her father first in everything she did. Why did he have such a hold on her? Why did he always have to leave again? There was a pause and the woman looked down at her hands on the table.  
"I'm sorry, I haven't really been listening. I've lost them both in one night. I'm facing the rest of my life alone and I don't think any amount of tea will fix that. I've got to go to the police station before he's taken to the base and I can't see him again."
"They won't come tonight and you won't be allowed to see him anyway. Let me take you home and you can get some rest. Is there someone else I can call for you?"
"Didn't you hear me?" Ruby asked calmly. "I'm alone. There isn't anyone else. I don't want to go home anyway. There's nothing there for me. And all of his stuff is there."
They stayed at the restaurant for some time then the old lady insisted that they walk to cafe that was open all night. 
"You're being so kind but I don't even know your name."
"It's Atta dear. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Christmas novel...excerpt 2

A little bit more for you to enjoy...  

    

Agatha

After the champagne was poured Agatha presented her guests with a starter of filo parcels with brie and cranberry on rocket with a balsamic glaze dotted prettily around the plate. She was particularly proud of this dish, having made it up all by herself. She felt certain that something of this caliber would be served in a Jamie Oliver restaurant, and after taking 13 pictures and posting 9 of them on Instagram she reluctantly placed them in front of her guests. 

      Sitting down and eagerly picking up her knife and fork she began the conversation she had been rehearsing in her head all day. 

"So Charlie, I hear you've -"

She was cut off abruptly. 

"My name is Charles," he said brusquely, looking at her under his mad mop of curly hair. 

"Oh, sure. Sorry Charles."

Agatha sucked in her breath sharply, it was most definitely not a time for her sensitivities to surface. 'Don't cry, don't cry' she thought, keeping her eyes down on her food and refocusing her efforts on the conversation. Try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to speak. 

Charles. 

'Ok so she called me Charlie again. This night can not end fast enough,' he thought grimly as he sawed way  through the overcooked filo parcel. Yes he felt slightly bad, and yes he was perhaps a tad rude to her, but who calls a complete stranger by a nickname anyway? A nickname he only allowed one person to use. Ever. Still, he felt bad, especially when he happened to glance up as she was trying to quash her tears. He checked the clock on the wall. 'Only ten minutes have passed', he thought glumly. 'Only another 2 hours and 50 minutes before it would be polite to leave.' 

Ruby

'Is she CRYING?' Thought Ruby critically. 'Wow, she needs a Valium or something.' Ruby had barely said a word since they had sat down, focussing all her energies instead on forcing the inedible substance down her throat. Once she had successfully swallowed the last morsel she placed her knife and fork down carefully, so as not to draw attention to herself and placed her hands in her lap. Her fingers started tapping out a rhythm - she always did this when she was nervous. She didn't even realise she was doing it most of the time. The silence became deafening. 

Ben

After what seemed like an age after "Charlie's" little outburst, Ben finished his tasteless starter and asked a question. 

"So you're in a jungle and you have no way of getting out alive. Would you rather die quickly from being eaten by an anaconda or die slowly but gracefully by a snake bite? I must warn you, the anaconda will spit your bones out afterwards, leaving them floating in a swamp somewhere, whereas the snake bite would be so poisonous that it'll turn your kidneys to mush."

They guests looked at Ben with a mixture of disgust and horror on their faces. The awkwardness fell like a blanket so he tried again. 

"I think I would prefer the anaconda. I mean how cool would it be to see inside of a creature that big? Who knows what you'd see inside its belly? Boots? Umbrellas? Shopping trolleys?" He laughed and looked around at their faces, before stopping abruptly and sighing. He picked up his champagne and downed the rest of the glass, suddenly wishing he had kept his stupid mouth quiet. 

Agatha. 

Although she had stopped herself from crying, she was thoroughly unsuccessful in playing the perfect host. Not for the first time she wondered why on earth she was doing this dinner, for 3 complete strangers. It was all because of her nan, her crazy, stupid, dead nan. 

Chap 2

Two years previously. 

Ben stepped out of the ground floor flat that he shared with his brother and gulped the cold air deep into his lungs. It was frosty out this morning, his breath misting in front of him, but Ben hardly felt the cold, he was just so happy to be outside.

    He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and walked the short distance to the local corner shop, Dougs, where the only items on his list was 2 strawberry cornettos and a bottle of vimto. His brother had had a hankering for these things, and once he had something in his mind it was impossible to steer him away. But Ben didn't mind in the slightest, he always enjoyed his brothers whims and he hadn't been out of the house for a few days, not since Giles' last bout of pneumonia. 

    Ben lived with his older brother who was 18 months his senior and who had been living with motor neurones disease for the last 10 years. It was just the two of them...their father died when Ben was two and their mother walked out on them when Giles' disease became more than just a whisper. She found a fella, the kind who preys on vulnerable women then takes them for a whole lot of money before magically disappearing forever and a day. Except he hadn't reckoned on Trisha blackthorn and she completely dug her claws in and refused to let go. So they left, rowing and slapping one another on a beautiful Sunday morning in June, and never came back. 

     Since then they had been there for each other...Ben became the provider when Giles couldn't work any more; Ben became the carer when Giles' body wouldn't work any more; and Ben became the home maker - cooking, cleaning, doing the diy, when Giles didn't have the energy. But Giles provided the emotional support that Ben needed and they were best friends. 

    Ben had his own IT consultancy business which meant he could mostly work from home, but a few days a week he had to go to meetings in the city. It worried him every time he had to leave his brother but Giles had a panic button and they had a few neighbours who were willing to check in on him from time to time. 

     Ben was dressed thoroughly inappropriately for a visit to Dougs, in his superdry jeans, his Armani leather biker jacket and his Gucci sneakers. Only 10 minutes ago he'd been slumped in his lazy chair playing a great video game in his most treasured and loved pyjamas, faded, threadbare but oh so comfortable. He liked to look good, he felt happy when people admired him and actually really enjoyed clothes. 

    He liked dressing well, smelling good, and crying...really crying. He cried over everything...John Lewis adverts on the TV, when he finished a good book, or visits to the donkey sanctuary. He liked to listen to people's problems, he was always being told how good a listener he was. 

     He had never really had a relationship with anyone - well not since the 6th form when he had fallen in love with Gemma May Powell - a busty blonde with a killer ponytail and skirts shorter than Ronnie Corbett. He had no time and no interest, he loved his life. It was just him and his brother, and that's the way Ben wanted it. 

     He reached Dougs and pushed the door open, hearing the familiar tinkle of the bell. Just behind him an elderly lady he vaguely recognised entered, so he held the door open until she was through. The shop had a heavy air of quietness about it, and although this was nothing unusual - it was only 9 o clock on a Sunday morning, and most of Dougs customers were still in bed - there was something almost eerie about it. Ben glanced around cautiously but saw nothing untoward. 

   "Hello? Mr Singh?" he called out tentatively. 

    "Oh hello, we are closed," came the sing song welsh accent of the shop owner. 

    "Are you sure? Your door sign says open."

    "Oh no, we are closed. Goodbye."

    "Now listen up mr Singh, this charming young man and I have come into your dingy little shop to buy something," said the elderly lady behind Ben, making him jump. "I've come in for frozen peas and a card for my friend Eleanor, and this young man has come in for - what have you come in for dear?"

    "Oh, um cornettos and vimto" he said quietly to her. 

    "Well don't tell me, tell him."

    "Oh right, um Cornettos and Vimto. Mr Singh."

    "That's right, now come out here so we can see you're alright."

    "Oh I can't do that Mrs Monroe, please, you must go."

    At this point a young man wearing a pink balaclava came round the aisle and held a gun up to them both. Ben instinctively put his hands up like he knew you were supposed to in these situations and started thinking about the things he should've done before he left. 'Who will look after Giles? Who will pay my monthly subscription to canoe and kayak? Oh thank goodness I put clean underwear on.' 

    "Matthew Goodyear, give me that toy and take off your sisters balaclava."

    The person under the mask faltered and said "no, now give me your money." 

    "Matthew Goodyear, if you think I'm falling for that silly voice then you are even more stupid than you look right now. I'd know you anywhere, delivered you into this world for goodness sake." 

    His shoulders slumped and Matthew Goodyear took off his mask. 

   "Hand over the gun."

    He handed it sullenly over to the old woman. 

    "Enough of that cheek, boy. Now what will your mum say when she hears about your latest escapades?"

    "I dunno," he scuffed the floor with his shoe. 

    "Beg pardon? Speak clearly. I'll tell you what she'll say, she'll tell you that she's sending you off to juvenile detention again for your 9th attempt at armed robbery."

    At this point a shaken Mr Singh walked from the back of the shop and took his place behind the counter.

    "And as for you Mr Singh, you should know better than to let this boy bully you. He's done it to you three times now, will you never learn? Honestly, it's a wonder this shop is still standing."

    "Can I go now Mrs Monroe?"

   "Yes you can go, but I'll be keeping this." She indicated the gun. 

    "Oh but it's my sisters, she'll kill me if I don't bring it home."

    "Good, then maybe we'll all have some peace. One more attempt like this and I'll strangle you with my own hands."

    With that he scampered out of the door and ran out of sight. Ben looked in awe at the old lady. 

    "Oh don't look at me like that," she said, rolling her eyes. "I've known that boy for 15 years, he's good really, just a bit angry at the world. Now Mr singh, have yourself a sweet cup of tea then pull yourself together. You really must not let these teenagers take the better of you. Now, what did I come in for again?" she muttered to herself. 

  "Peas and a card for your friend Eleanor I believe Mrs Monroe."

   She looked at Ben suspiciously and then nodded. He thrust out his hand towards her. 

    "Hello, I'm Ben. Ben Blackthorn. I live in -"

    "I know who you are. How is your brother, Giles?"

    "You know about Giles? Um he's been better, just had pneumonia. But 

He's asking for ice cream so he must be on the mend."

    "Can your brother wait for his ice cream or will he be anxious if you don't return?"

    "Why, are you thinking of taking me hostage now as well?" Ben joked, producing one of his best winks. 

    The old lady gave him a withering look and shook her head. 

    "Those tricks might work on the young ladies of the world, but they don't work on me."

    "Oh no Mrs Monroe, Mr Blackthorn is gay, he does not wink at young ladies," interjected the shopkeeper. 

    "Ben Blackthorn is most definitely not a homosexual I'll have you know, he just likes to pretend he is so people will leave him alone."

    Both men's jaws dropped and they both looked at the woman, unable to speak. 

    "How do you..."

    "Now Benjamin, come with me for a quick cup of tea at Sally's. I'm parched and I think you need to leave that flat for a while."

     "Oh no, thank you but I really should be getting back to my brother."

    "He's fine, I think it's you who needs looking after in my opinion. Right Mr Singh, don't forget that sugary tea, you'll feel right as rain in no time. I'll be back in an hour for my peas."

    With that she marched back out of the door and waited for Ben outside. 

    Ben looked bewildered and found himself following her orders. He waved to the shop owner who simply did not look surprised at anything concerning Mrs Monroe, and walked out to the street. 

    "Now Sally will be expecting me to buy a stale Belgian bun from her display, because it's what I normally do. But it's a messy thing to eat and it always gets stuck in my dentures so I won't be having one today. But she is a funny old thing and will be offended if I decline so I'm going to let you have it but you must make sure you eat it discreetly or she'll be calling her big brothers on you."

    Without being able to get a word in edge ways they arrived at the local greasy spoon, Sally's. Ben had come in once, the first time he and his brother had come to check out the flat before they rented it. He had walked back out after a rather dodgy egg roll and lukewarm, insipid cup of coffee and sworn on his brothers life that he would never step foot in there again. And now here he was, stepping both his feet back in through the door. Ben glanced towards the flat with a frown. 

   "Oh hi Atta," Sally, the middle aged woman with voluptuous breasts and brown stained apron shouted. 

   "It's Mrs Monroe, Sally," she replied with a twinkle in her eye. 

    "Right you are Atta. I'll get your usual for you now. What does your man here want?"

    "Just a tea please."

    "Rightio, one big breakfast coming up."

    "No," Ben began, but Mrs Monroe put her hand on his arm.

     "Just go along with it," she whispered. "Sally isn't all there and she gets awfully depressed if people don't like her food. You just be grateful she doesn't recognise you as the man who vomited up her bacon bap."

    "It was an egg roll, and how do you know about that? In fact, Mrs Monroe, how do you know all those things about me?"

    "Oh please, call me Atta."

    "Alright. Atta."

    "A long time ago I was a midwife, as you might have gathered. I delivered babies day and night for many years. I remember every baby that came screaming into my arms, and stay in touch with mothers and their Offspring alike. You are no different. Its just that you didn't know it."

    "You...you delivered me? Oh, that's amazing. I never knew."

    "No, not all of you do. But your mother keeps in contact with me from time to time." 

    "My...my mother? Huh, I doubt it, I don't think she even knows that we're living in London. She's too engrossed up her own arse to know anything about us."

    "Language, Benjamin."

    "Sorry." 

    "When you were born you were a bright little thing. 21st June, 9lbs 10 if I remember, quite a big baby, especially seeing as your mum was so tiny. Your dad held you in his arms while I dealt with the afterbirth, and I swear he didn't stop crying with happiness for the next hour. That's probably where you get your love of crying from."

    "What? You knew my dad? I don't exactly have a "love of crying" - wait, am I like him?"

     "No, you're more like her. Giles is more like your dad, you must've seen pictures of him?"

    "No, my mum threw all the pictures away when he died, then went out on an all night bender. She left the two of us, young children, on our own."

    "You have to understand something about your parents. He was her rock, she couldn't do anything without him. He made her into a mother, he helped her, was patient with her, he loved her, despite her funny ways. 

    "When your father died she went to pieces...she didn't know how to cope with you young boys, both tearaways, so close in age. I helped her out as much as I could of course, but she didn't want help."

    "I don't remember you. Why don't I remember you?" 

    "I was mostly there at night when you were in bed. I came over most evenings, once or twice helped put you to bed. You used to have a rabbit, what was his name? Bun buns? Buggy?"

    "Bugsy. I still have him. I think I remember you. You always had banana flavoured sweets in your bag?"

    "That's me. Don't like them myself but kids always enjoyed them."

    "Not me. I used to store them in my mouth and hide them when you weren't looking."

    "Oh I know you did. I always found them stuck under the dining room table."

    "How is she? My mum?"

   "Oh she's alright, under the circumstances."

    "What circumstances?"

Atta stretched across the table and took his hand. She looked into his eyes and in that moment he knew something was about to change in his life forever. 

    "She's homeless. That rotten man she took off with kicked her out two years ago and now she's taken to sleeping rough on the streets."

    Ben felt the colour drain out of his cheeks. 

    "I didn't know. She...she never tried to make contact."

    "She was too proud...still is. But that doesn't mean she doesn't try to find out all she can about you. I've met her here a few times."   

    Ben looked around at the cafe with its peeling wallpaper and faded decor. He glanced at the corner where a couple of men were guffawing over a rude joke. He looked back to Atta, who was still holding his hand. 

    "Here we are my lovelies," said Sally as she navigated her way through the empty tables with a tray. 

   "Your usual Belgian bun Atta, made sure I put one by for you, and one big breakfast for the young man. Let's hope he's got a stronger constitution these days shall we?" She raised her eyebrows at him knowingly then shoved his shoulder before walking away laughing.

    "She likes you, you should be grateful," said Atta, picking up the bun and wrapping a serviette around it. 

    "Mm. This is lovely, best one yet Sal," she suddenly shouted without looking up. 

    "Yep, only the best for you Atta."

    "It's Mrs Monroe."

     "Right you are Atta."

    "Go on, tuck in Ben. You'll be needing a pick me up and believe it or not this food is not going to kill you."

    Ben picked up his fork and stabbed a sausage, too stunned by the recent revelations to object. He found himself wolfing it down, and surprised himself by actually enjoying it. He mopped up the final remains of yolk with his toast then popped it in his mouth, thinking of something as he did so. 

    "Why haven't you introduced yourself to me sooner?" He said, when he had finally finished chewing. "I mean you know enough about me and my brother, stuff that nobody else knows. How?" Ben took a swig of his tea. 

    "It's simple really. I go round when you're not there. I've even got my own key."

    Ben choked on his tea and sprayed it on the table in front of him. He made such a commotion that Sally came over to see if he was being sick again, and when she saw that he had spilt tea all over her white tablecloth she found the first thing she could get her hands on, which happened to be the serviette with the Belgian bun in. 

Attas eyes widened and she went to grab the incriminating evidence out of her hands but it was too late and Sally was using it to mop up the mess. 

    Ben, seeing the panic in Attas eyes stood quickly and pointed out of the window, grabbing Sally's  arm so abruptly that she dropped it on the floor. Whilst she was craning her neck to see out of the window at whatever Ben was pointing at, atta ducked under the table much faster than you would expect someone of her age to be able to, and retrieved the bun from the napkin, shoving it straight into her handbag. 

    "What you looking at? I can't see," Sally complained to Ben sullenly. 

    "Oh it's gone now, I thought it was a golden eagle or something." Ben could see in the corner of his eye that the old lady was giving him the thumbs up. 

    "In the middle of London?! Really Ben, what were you thinking?" exclaimed Atta, tutting and shaking her head. 

    "You never know Atta, these zoos have animals escaping all the time. My uncle once saw an emu walking down the street towards him, happy as you like. The emu kicked him in the back, nasty things," she added to Ben. 

    "It's Mrs Monroe, Sally."

    "Right you are Atta. I'd better be getting on with tidying up."

    Ben had enjoyed the moment but realisation suddenly hit and he remembered the old lady's confession. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and dropped two notes on the table. 

    "That should cover it. I'd better get back."

    And he walked out of the cafe, slamming the door slightly harder than he had intended to. 

    Atta shook her head slightly and stood up from the table. 'That could have gone better', she thought, picking up her bag and waving to Sally. She opened the door and saw Ben jogging back towards the shop, his lanky legs taking quite big strides. 

Chapter 3

Ben walked in through the front door with the cornettos and vimto and called out cheerfully to let his brother know he was back. 

    "Giles? I'm home, sorry I'm late, there was an armed robbery at Dougs and some stupid kid totally tried to shoot me. I'm like, totally fine but it was touch and go." He put the Vimto in the fridge and hid the bottle of whiskey that he had concealed in his coat in a cupboard that Giles could no longer reach. "Course I took him out with a near fatal karate chop to the jugular and pinned him down until the police got there. I might even get a medal or something. Giles?" he called out again. 

    There was still no answer so he walked quickly to the front room to check on him. Still calling he eventually found him passed out by the toilet, lying in a puddle of urine with a trickle of blood above his eye. 

    "Ok Giles, I'm here, come on big bruv, wake up."

    Ben lifted him up gently into a sitting position and put his arms around his slender shoulders. It wasn't the first time Ben had found his brother like this, and although he was used to the piss and shit he could never adjust to seeing his brother so weak and helpless. He slid his other arm under his legs and lifted him effortlessly, placing him on Bens own bed with a pillow under his head. 

    "Come on brother, time to wake up. I've got a cornetto with your name on it."

    Giles still lay unmoving, but Ben seemed unfazed by it. He stripped off his wet clothes and inwardly groaned at the bill he would receive from this much dry cleaning. He stripped down to just his underwear. 

    "So Giles, I have a question for you. You're in a wrestling competition and you've made it to the final. But the other finalist is a terrifying old woman with superpowers and telepathy and great one liners that you can't beat. Would you rather let her beat you or would you rather just walk away and be the laughing stock of the whole wrestling world?" Ben picked up his towel and turned to head to the bathroom to take a shower when his brother piped up. 

    "Neither. I'd take her on and I'd win. I'd kick her false teeth out then whack her with her Zimmer frame. Then I'd deliver her a winning blow by saying something clever like "you and your teeth are entirely welcome.""

    Ben, still facing the opposite way gave a chuckle and walked out of the room. 

    "She's wanted to meet you for a really long time you know," he called, trying to raise himself up onto his elbows but failing. "She kept on about how you needed an outlet, how you needed to be a young man again. I just told her that we were ok, you know? We didn't need anyone else."  

    "It's fine Giles," Ben said, turning slightly so he could see his brother from the corner of his eye. "I just wish I'd known that an old lady was coming in every day to take care of you. And old lady who has a key. And who knows that I cry a lot. And who knows where mum is."

    "I didn't think you'd want to see her. She's been out of our lives for so long and you've always spoken of her with such hatred. I just wanted to spare you any more pain." 

    "It's not up to you to decide for me." 

    "I know, I knew I was doing the wrong thing but..."

    "But what Giles?" Ben came in the room in two strides and towered over the bed. "But you're just trying to protect me? You were just helping me? Taking the burden of knowing our mother was some homeless tramp, wandering from shelter to shelter without a penny to her name? I thought we shared everything, knew everything about each other. Now you've got this secret life that I know nothing about."

    There was silence for a moment and Ben thought he had gone too far. He and his brother rarely fought and it was never pleasant when they did. 

    "For your information Atta and I will be getting married next spring and we are completely and utterly in love."

    Ben looked at his brother for a long while then burst out laughing. 

    "Yep, we've got the honeymoon booked, I think Bali should be pleasant in May, don't you?" Ben slumped on the bed next to his brother and rested his head next to his arm. 

    "Just shut up Mr lover man."

    "Ew, don't lie so close, you're only wearing pants." 

    "Shut up, you're the one soaked in piss."

    "Yeah. On your bed."

    Ben picked up the pillow from under his head and threw it down on his brother playfully. 

    "Loser."

    "Idiot." 

They lay like this for some time until Ben finally spoke. 

    "So come on then, how did you come to have a secret tryst with such a lady?"

    Giles told him the story then, of how one innocuous day she came and knocked on the door once Ben had gone to a meeting. "It was on a hot day, remember that time in June when we just sat in pants all day with the windows open? Well you'd gone off and left me with a Breaking Bad box set to hammer my way through when suddenly she knocked on the door. It frightened the crap out of me so I paused the telly and sat quietly until I thought they'd left. But then she came to the window and looked in through the curtain. I told her we didn't want to subscribe to any charity but if she popped her details through the post we would have a read and then she started climbing through the window."

    "She did what?"

    "Yeah. Climbed through the window. I was about to call the police and tell them that a clepto was breaking in but then I kind of recognised her."

    "Huh," said Ben. "She really is an old lady with super powers."

    "Right? She climbed through as though she was getting out of bed, no effort at all."

    "So what then? She tidy up and make tea or something? Maybe give you her Belgian bun?"

    "What kind of euphemism is that? Nah, she sat down and watched Breaking Bad with me. Turns out she's well into it, loves herself a bit of Jesse Pinkman apparently." They both laughed, Ben unable to imagine anyone over the age of thirty finding Jesse Pinkman desirable. 

    "She's just...cool, you know? She comes over whenever you go out, keeps me company. Helps me to the crapper and all. She's strong for one so old."

    "Shut up Yoda. But why didn't you just tell me? What was I going to do, break up your little party cos I was jealous?"

    "To be honest Ben you kinda like to be in charge. I think you get off on doing everything around here and looking after me. Not that I've got a choice but I kind of feel indebted to you. And she...she was just a different face I suppose. You've given up everything to look after me and I don't know how many days I've got left on this earth but I don't want to spend them worrying that you are wasting your life by being here with me. She helped me escape that guilt for a while. Plus she's really funny."

    "I like doing stuff for you. It's you and me, I don't want to be anywhere else."

    "What about having a relationship and kids? What about going on holiday, going out for a meal, the cinema? You're giving up all that stuff for me and I don't want you to."   

    "What are you saying?"

    "I'm saying that it doesn't have to be this way. I knew she would run into you today. In fact she even set up that whole thing with Matthew Goodyear in the shop so she would have a reason to talk to you."

    "You mean...?"

    "He's not really attempted robbery 9 times, he's actually got a paper round at Dougs and sings in the church choir every Sunday. Nice kid."

    "But Mr Singh...he was scared and shaken!"

    "Turns out he used to be quite a thespian when he was back in school."

    "Why not just invite her round for me to meet her? Why all the drama?"

    "She doesn't do anything by halves, Mrs Monroe doesn't. Wanted to take the measure of you apparently. Anyway don't freak out but she's coming round in 30 minutes."

    "What?" cried Ben, shooting up from the bed suddenly. 

    "Yeah. And she's bringing our mum." 

    Ben's shoulders tensed. "Have you seen her? Since she walked out on us? Has she been here?"

   Giles just nodded. Ben looked at him for a minute then sprang into action. First he went to the bathroom and ran the shower. Second he went back to his bedroom, picked up his brother gently and carried him in. He proceeded to wash him, dry him, change him and place him on the sofa, all without saying a word. Then he went to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of whiskey and went to sit on the chair next to Giles, still in his underwear, still wreaking from the urine, still fuming from the revelations. 

    "What do you think they'd enjoy?" he barked. "Jeremy Kyle?" He turned the TV on and they watched a woman shouting at her husband for a full twenty minutes. Then the door bell rang. 

A Christmas novel???

So I'm in the bath and an idea pops into my head. It's about food (I'm on a diet) and it's about how, if I can't eat food, then maybe I should write about food. So I did and inevitably my imagination got carried away and a story was developing. Just for laughs I thought I'd publish the start of it on here. Why not? Yes, let's expose my thoughts, the inner workings of my mind, my warped and weird ways of seeing things. (We all do in our own little way). 

So here goes. Read it or don't read it, s'up to you. Thoughts, comments, and (dare I say it), criticisms are welcomed warmly, and all I will say about it is things are not as they seem. 

Enjoy. 

Agatha 

Agatha placed the enormous, golden turkey in the centre of the table and took a step back. She smoothed her hands over her apron and proudly surveyed all she had done - The cranberry sauce, the crispy roast potatoes, the chestnut stuffing balls made from a secret recipe. The smells of Christmas filled the room and she couldn't help but jump with excitement. She admired the way the pristine tablecloth dazzled, and the way she had carefully made the napkins into works of art. The crystal glassware was sparkling, the cheery Christmas crackers placed in such a way that they would not be forgotten, and the Christmas confetti sprinkled in what looked like a haphazard way but which had actually been placed with precision and style. This was going to be a good night, Agatha thought as she twirled her hair around her finger absentmindedly. The doorbell rang. 

Charles 

Charles walked in to the house with his expensive bottle of wine clutched to his chest. His mum had made him bring it, selecting it from his wine rack with determination. He had groaned, argued, deliberated...but she was adamant that he should take nothing but the very best. He wiped his feet, ignoring his mothers voice in his head that he should take his shoes off by the front door, and shrugged his overcoat off, refusing to part quite yet with the wine. He had heard about Agatha and her reputation for glugging from the bottle with no regard for the full body or vintage year. She went to take it from him but he pretended to be looking at his sleeve instead. She actually tried taking it but he deftly swept past her and into the dining room. 

    He took in the sight before him...a greasy looking turkey with parsley stuffed up its arse, tacky Christmas confetti scattered over the table with the failed attempt to make it look "casual" and swan napkins...no wait, were they actually chickens? Who did chicken shaped napkins at a Christmas meal? He looked at Agatha with a smirk on his face and was about to comment but stopped himself just as she looked up proudly and expectantly at him. His smirk turned into,what he hoped, was a winsome smile. This night was going to be...interesting, he thought. 

Ruby 

Ruby knocked the door for the second time, willing herself to stand tall, with shoulders back, chin up in the air...exactly as her military father had instructed her time and time again. She took a deep breath and told herself that no one would miss her if she just turned and walked away now...no one ever missed her...but then the door with its garish silver and black wreath opened and ruby had no choice but to step inside. She smiled wanly at her host who took her coat whilst chatting incessantly about the most ridiculous of the British institutions, the weather. Might snow-blah blah- just sleet i expect-blah blah - who cares? The host smiled expectantly at ruby, who realised that a question had been asked and an reply was required of her. An awkward pause followed and ruby just looked at the ground. "Look them in the eye, take control of your surroundings" she heard her father say. She looked up at her host and immediately wished she hadn't because Agatha was frowning at what she must assume was ruby being rude. "Take control" she thought. She was about to compliment her host on the smell of the food but then realised all she could smell was the turkey with its wrinkled skin and grease which had solidified at the neck. Desperately trying not to wrinkle her nose at the sight of meat, she instead turned to look at the napkins which seemed to be shaped like...wait, what was that? Was it meant to be a vagina? Words failed her, she just looked back down at her feet. 

Ben 

Ben rang the doorbell in a 'bring-bring-ba-bring-bring' (pause for effect) 'bring-bring' rhythm and stepped close to the beautiful wreath, checking his teeth in one of the larger pieces of tinsel. Still looking great, he thought, and decided to turn it up a notch. The door opened and he rushed at his host almost knocking her down in the process. He air kissed her on both cheeks then took a step back, admiring her dress. Pretty red thing, obviously last season but no matter, his host wore it well. She led him through to the dining room and introduced him to the other guests, one slightly dapper looking chap, perhaps money, perhaps a chip on his shoulder; and an awkward looking girl with braces on her teeth. Could be sweet, he thought, but too much like hard work. His host was babbling on so his eyes swept the room, taking in the cheap decor and the chintzy furnishings. He spotted the dinner table and plastered his most ostentatious smile on his face, one that he only used occasionally, when it was distinctly possible that words might fail him. Yet again his charm worked and Agatha blushed at what he assumed she believed to be his most praiseworthy and flattering smile. He was just glad it hid his disdain. 

Agatha

"Right, now that we're all here why don't you take a seat...you'll find your name written on a piece of mistletoe in Christmas sparkles!" Agatha laughed in what she hoped was a tinkling laugh...she didn't know what one was but had read it somewhere so practised it all day as she peeled the sprouts. Her guests started shuffling round the table, studying the mistletoe she had so lovingly decorated with red ribbon and painstakingly written their names on with a glitter pen. 

    She couldn't help but feel the night was already a resounding success, her guests were wonderful, her food spectacular and her choice of Michael buble singing christmas songs in the background sublime. Finally with everyone sitting she picked up the champagne from the ice bucket and gave them a dazzling smile. 

     "Charlie darling, would you do the honours?"

Charles looked at her with the sort of glaze one assumes is love at first sight and stood, placing his bottle of wine in front of him and taking the champagne. He popped the cork, narrowly missing the chandelier as he did so. 

Charles

'She called me Charlie. I hate her.'

Ruby 

Ruby placed her hand over her glass and shook her head apologetically. Her eyes were fixed firmly on her vagina napkin so she had no idea how people were reacting. She had a vague feeling that she didn't care, but wasn't quite sure.  The bottle passed on. 

Ben

'So the toff is miffed cos she called him Charlie, the goth is freaked cos she's a weird vegan/teetotaller/feminist  type and our host has notions that she is a modern day Martha, which judging by the marks and spencer stuffing balls 

She most certainly is not. Yawn fest,' Ben thought, longing to be back in his bedsit with Giles. 

To be continued...

Anyone for jogging?

Yep. Me. Went for a jog. 

Oh man, I can't honestly say, at this point in time, that i enjoy it one little iota. Getting a sweat on is ok, in ones house, without an audience, and a towel with which to wipe ones brow, but in the wide open spaces, with dog walkers and pram pushers and...FUNERAL GOERS??? 

I always go on a little lane near me which has a couple of farmhouses and a church. I'm doing that app...the one couch to 5k. Pah. (Never gonna make it to 5 minutes at this rate.) 

   

Thing is, I always think people will wonder what the whoopsies I'm doing, stop-starting all the time. I know, I know...it doesn't matter what people think, but you know what? It kind of does to me. Wrong but there you have it. 

Oh, before I forget, I took this picture while I was out. "Running". (Yes, I'm using quotation fingers). 

That was a nice bit. 

Because yes, there was a funeral on at the church and I had to stop and give directions not once, but TWICE, and the second time I had too much saliva in my mouth and my words slurred because I was trying to stop from spitting in her face. She looked as though she was going to ask if I was ok but thought better of it in case she was required to take me home. 

Then I bumped into a lady who I have a slightly shady past with (it was at a Christmas concert, and we were fighting over the front row seats.) We talked dogs and she wouldn't stop talking about it, no matter how politely I kept side stepping away. 

I normally go with my lovely friend Abby...I say 'normally', I think we've only been 3 times...but she is slim and doesn't seem to need to breathe...unlike  me; doesn't get red faced...like me; and runs like a gazelle...unlike little warthog here who can only take baby warthog steps. She is still lovely though.

I go a really awful shade of purple, but I am unwilling to show you. I shall show you a portion. 

Pretty little warthog, I know. 

Until next time. 

Pfffff. 

You can call me "guv".

A few months ago I felt prompted to apply for the role of parent governor at our school. The hubby and I have always thought that we would like to stand for it, A) to make decisions on important stuff,

B) to be more involved in our kids lives  and 

C) to be nosey.  

(Less A and B as much as C, if I'm honest.) 

(Not really, depending on who's reading this.) 

So I applied for it. 

I'm very, um, day-dreamy, I suppose you could call it, so I've never even toyed with the idea before. I can't really imagine me in meetings, talking about financial implications of something financial and other important official things. But this time I really wanted to do it and I can't really explain why that was. However I decided to apply for it because in my experience (around 6 years in this school), lots of people more popular and intelligent than me always apply and I thought it was pretty obvious I wouldn't win the vote. And I wasn't wrong. 

I must just interject at this point that the hubster once applied for parent governor position when our oldest was in reception. There were only 3 others that applied but he didn't get it. He only got 6 votes and 2 of those were from us. (We laugh about it now but back then....oh dear.) 

So I really didn't think I would win the popularity contest, and felt safe in applying. 

Then a few days ago the headmistress came to me and congratulated me. I looked blankly at her and thought "does she think I'm pregnant?" She registered my confusion and hurriedly explained that I had been appointed parent governor and that I should've been informed by now. I smiled and tried to hide the fear that I felt burning in my eyes. Then rang the husband to gloat. 

It turns out that no-one else even applied for the position and I was the only one. My goodness God, you have a sense of humour.  I won by default. 

Of course secretly I'm pleased and quite excited about the next chapter of my unwritten journey (bleurch) and of what the future holds. I have day dreamy moments of saving the school from closure or being commended by the headmistress for rescuing the pupils during a fire or (and this is my favourite), being given a bottle of wine at Christmas as a thank you for my attention to detail in the last financial meeting about important implications of financial things. 

My goodness I'm going to be tedious to live with. Haven't even been to my first meeting yet but am demanding the husband call me Guv and throw petals in front of me as I walk. He hasn't yet but I'm fairly confident I can make him........

E flipping bay.

I have been on a cleansing ritual (or something equally as flaky) to purge us as a family of all the junk we have acquired over the past few years so we would have good space as our children grow. That and we needed some cash. (Ok, it was mostly about the cash.) 

    eBay has been something I've dipped in and out of for the past few years, trying to find the odd bargain that might clutter up our house (oh the irony). And sometimes it's useful, does the job. The hubby, he's cynical, thinks everyone's out to take you for a buck. Me, I'm super trusting. 

    Anyway, my time came to sell a few bits and bobs. It was a startling thing, to find myself addicted to hunting the house to see what I could sell. Then posting it online and checking every few hours to find, occasionally, that someone was WATCHING it!! Eeee! Don't ask how I was when someone actually bid, it was like I'd been given a golden ticket and the destination was the eBay hall of fame. It's a good feeling. And for the most part I had very little difficulty with any customers, the odd message here and there but hey ho, all doable. 

    Then somebody by the name of (and the name has been changed slightly to protect the identity of my customer) 13smallchickens came along. I had put up a jigsaw puzzle (and at this point I will be honest and say it was one of mine. Yes, I had a jigsaw phase, 1000 pieces at a time and yes I went to counselling and have put it behind me...please do not bring this up again), and she, the lucky bidder, had won it. 

     I waited a few days for her to pay me then she sent a message. She lives locally and she informed me that she would come and pick it up. (Cheeky, but  I can go with it.) I messaged her and said ok, giving her my address. (Alright, alright I can hear you screaming FOOL at me, but I'm fairly new to this, remember?) I also told her (and this is where I get really stupid), that I would be out in the morning, that she would have to come in the afternoon. 

     She then informed me that I could leave it outside somewhere safe and that she would drop the money through the letter box. NOW I started to smell a rat and finally got the big guns involved....the hubby. He's so good with this stuff that he's like my own personal ombudsman. He took one look at me as I explained and I could see an inward groan. 

    I have to also note that at this point I checked her eBay page and she had some pretty awful comments..."possible scammer", "didn't pay", "wanted pick up but didn't want to wait", etc. Oh bother. She's going to rob us blind, bring her older brothers who resemble Barry Island Thor lookalikes, and leave her fag butt on the sofa to prove a point. (So what then does she want with a jigsaw?)

    I messaged back with my husbands fine advice and told her that I wasn't happy with leaving my precious Christmas jigsaw outside and that she could come before 10 or after 12 but my husband is ill at the moment and I don't want him disturbed. 

    So today I changed my plans and stayed home. Then I started to doubt she would even come at all. I was worried I would get a negative feedback on my otherwise spotless background. Oh the pressure. Anyway, 12.30 came and this woman pulled up outside my house and stepped out. She was older, with long greying hair held back by an Alice band. I met her at the door and I gave her the jigsaw. She said

"I came as late as possible because I didn't want to disturb your husband."

She looked at me expectantly, as if I was going to explain what was wrong, but there's no way I'm getting further into the lie. (What would I go for? Lymes disease? Pneumonia?) I just smiled and said, head cocked to one side

"Thank you, yes." 

She handed over the money, and that was it. You want to know the really stupid thing? The freaking jigsaw only went for 99p. 

The other half

So in just a few days it's my birthday. Every year it comes, and every year I have expectations of great and expensive presents (a surprise first class trip to New York, diamonds, a really nice facial cream that not only rejuvenates your skin but which also creates a portal into a parallel universe when daubed onto a wall - how cool would that be?) And every year I shed a little tear that I didn't receive the most great and expensive presents and that, thrown into the mix, I'm now a year older too. 

However this birthday is slightly different. This year, on the 25th Feb 2014, I will be able to say that I've been with my husband, the one and only Michael Fitchie, for exactly half of my life. Maybe I'm the only one that thinks this is worth celebrating and acknowledging? Who knows. But I think it's epic. 

(This picture was taken one day before the official "will you go out with me" question. He's the one with the eye patch. And not the girl.) 

So he's lush. He's funny. He sometimes really makes me mad because he farts, and it smells so bad that I have to breathe into my sleeve, but he finds it so funny that he becomes weak with laughter, resulting in me getting stroppy with him. (The last time he did that, however, I ended up throwing water on his head. Sobered him up pretty quickly, I can tell you. Hardcore, me.) He's hardworking, like, full on. He's intelligent. He's so good with computers and technical stuff it scares me. He's a bit sensitive. He's a great dad. He gets grumpy when he doesn't get to go on his bike. He's generous. He's a bit of a snob.  He doesn't mind being naked. (I'm currently struggling whether or not to put this in the positive or negative category.)

He's... (Actually, you know what, it has to be a negative. Too many of my friends have seen parts of him they weren't supposed to.) He's....(though we do have a giggle about it, and anything you laugh about has to be positive, surely?) He's really crap at beating me at stuff...like wii tennis. (Totally pan him). He's a great husband. He's sociable. He's kind. He's supportive (even when I was in my cross stitching phase.) He loves to share (like the time I had morning sickness and puked in the car...he had to stop and get out to share the vomiting love.) He's strong...crazy strong. He loves anything poo related. He's extremely talented (drumming, sewing, growing a beard, looking like cheesy famous people).  

He's many, many good things. 

There's more, of course there is, but I have a sneaky suspicion that I will bore you with the details. 

And the laughs we've had together are innumerable. 

And as I write this he's downstairs wrapping all my wonderful presents...I'm almost certain that there will be a silk dress embroidered by blind midgets from china which was started 2 years last October and which has real emeralds sown into the shoulder pads...but if there's not then I'm ok with that because (puke buckets at the ready...) he's the best gift I could have ever wanted for any birthday. He's the gift that keeps on giving (ok, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth and had to swallow it again.) And he does a stirling job of getting my it right. Every. Single. Time. (Though there was that one year when he bought me plastic flowers...)

Love you chap xx