Episode Four

We reach the big house...

Claudette paused at the lych gate to St Augustine’s, noticed the fading papers fluttering in the breeze and walked on. The times of Mother’s Union meetings and the Parish Council were of no interest to her. She noted the name of the vicar and walked on. At the wrought iron gates of The Cedars she put her suitcase down and put her hat on, securing it with the hat pin she’d stuck in her lapel when she got on the bus in Marstock. She gathered her belongings, making sure that the case was in the other hand and her clutch bag firmly grasped and clattered up the drive to the old manor house.

Halfway up the drive Claudette felt a blister on her left heel. She tried to push her toes further into her shoe but there was no space for them. Cursing her choice of fashion over comfort she limped the last few yards to the porch, kicked off her shoes and stood in her stockinged feet. She placed the suitcase between her feet, rang the doorbell and picked up her kitten heels. Thus the first Mr Upton the butler saw of the new lady’s companion was a slightly dusty young woman in a spectacular picture hat, a clutch bag in one hand and kitten heels in the other.

“I’m Claudette. Mrs Howard is expecting me. Grab my suitcase, will you?”

She skipped into the hall, slid slightly on the polished parquet floor and turned 360 degrees scanning the whole panelled edifice in one twirl.

“Very nice, very proper. Where do I go? Mrs Howard is expecting me.”

Episode Three

And on we go!

Claudette passed the vicarage as Reverend Pritchard was wrestling with the annual problem of how to make an Easter Sunday sermon sound new and fresh. He tapped his pen against his teeth in the way that irritated his wife more than most of his little habits. She rattled the teacup and saucer as she placed it on his desk and twitched the curtains as Claudette walked away.

“I’ve never seen a skirt like that in Laverage! Most unsuitable for a Tuesday, if you ask me.”

Sadly for Ada Pritchard, on matters of fashion, nobody was likely to ask her, least of all the vicar. Joseph Pritchard dipped his pen in his tea and carried on wrestling with the scriptures.

Episode Two

So, here's the next section. Hope you like it.

Claudette shimmied along High Street, passing the Crown and Thistle on her left as Marie Templeton was watering her hanging baskets. Peering through the dripping lobelia she tutted and shook her head.

“That’s all folk’ll be talking about today then.”

Her son, Alex, glanced at the swaying, retreating bottom of Claudette. 

“Not if Mrs Lovelace has her twins today they won’t Mum. That’s proper gossip.”

Marie ruffled his hair and marvelled at the innocence of a twelve year old boy.

“Mrs Lovelace would need to give birth to a couple of unicorns to stop them talking about that young lady, Alex. Now, get a move on, you’ll be late back to school. Where’s your cap?”

A New Venture

 

So, today I started sharing snippets of a story I wrote a while ago. I'm using Bluesy as my social media vehicle of choice - because it's the only one apart from Facebook that I'm on! 

I thought it might be fun to share here too.

Here goes...

When Claudette stepped off the Marstock bus one Tuesday morning she created quite a spectacle. Clicking along High Street in black and white kitten heels, seamed stockings and a just tight enough pencil skirt she was ‘not at all what Laverage is used to’ according to the Misses Greene who happened to be watching from the bow fronted windows of The Lavender Tea Rooms. Carrying a battered cardboard suitcase in one hand and a magnificent picture hat in the other, her navy blue clutch bag rammed under her armpit, she was indeed not what Laverage was used to.

Hopefully I'll remember to return for more tomorrow!