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“Worse things happen at sea.” Whenever anything goes wrong, that’s what she says. I have wondered about it on more than one occasion. Why it is that she should say this, exactly. The sea. What do either of us know about what goes on there? We live inland, far from the coast, snuggled down in
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Bobby was late. Just left me standing there outside the train station. When it started to rain, I gave up waiting and headed to the pub across the road. I thought, “Let him figure it out”. The place was packed. The only free space, a stool at the bar. My instinct was to turn and
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It was early morning when I heard him leave. The door clicking shut behind him with a deliberate caution that alerted me to the fact that something was up. From the window I watched him walk out across the field, the wan morning light no longer dim enough to offer him cover. His movements were
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He rang the bell of course. As soon as he saw her step out on to the street. Hearing it, she did what they all do. Stopped dead in her tracks, shocked that a bike was approaching her. No-one remembers Amsterdam is a city of bikes. No-one looks. No-one listens. They just step out. Tourists.
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Lottie was my grandmother’s friend. As a child her name confused me. To my ear, Lottie was the sort of name you would give your favourite doll. A chirpy, foolish sort of name. Giggly and frivolous. So when I first met her, I was shocked to discover that Lottie was in fact an old woman.
