Pale Hands

After a while, as it was getting lighter and lighter, I said, ‘I must ask your father’s permission.’ She nodded. ‘And there’s a couple of other phone-calls I must make.’ Then I slid my left [more…]

‘Daddy!’ It was almost simultaneous. I dashed down for the phone, uncoiled what I had once thought were absurdly long lengths of cable, carried the phone up to the turn in the stairs, flipped the [more…]

9.  The continued ringing of the telephone brought us both abruptly out of the past and Cambridge. ‘Your Father!’ I exclaimed. ‘My Mother.’ She whispered. ‘Richard Conyngham here: we’re at Waterloo and due to arrive [more…]

5. I was up pretty early, used the outdoor privy and the scullery sink so as not to disturb the sleeper, went off to Church, collected the paper on the way back, spoke as jauntily [more…]

1. As it was already turning to dusk, I was not expecting anyone to be at the door, but least of all was I expecting whom I saw there – so much so that the [more…]