Each time she passes through the station, the same flow of thoughts: that film, the character saying that it was three stops from Charing Cross to Greenwich, Mike letting it bother him, Mike showing her the map in the back of his diary, her not caring, them arguing anyway. But today she isn’t passing through. Today Charing Cross is her… Read it
Tubeline - Northern line
October, 1869
The smell of damp earth. The smog hanging heavy over London. Mist, stealing through the gravestones. Footsteps, hurrying through the cemetery, boots echoing on the pathways, voices hushed and urgent. “Where is it?” “Here. Just here.” Also to the memory of Elizabeth Eleanor wife of their elder son Dante Gabriel Rossetti The hiss of a match. The metallic clatter of… Read it
Off the Map
Captain Matthew Flinders crouches on one knee, resting his buttock on the heel of his foot. His beautifully turned calves hold him in perpetual concentration. He looks past the paper coffee cups abandoned at his feet, to the chart he is making of the New World. Commuters look above him to the train departures board, their routes clearly mapped out.… Read it
Charcoal
You had to look somewhere, after all. She let her gaze fall on his hands. His fingers curled around the charcoal, long and tapered; sensitive hands. Of course he’d be sensitive. What artist wasn’t? No wedding ring. His forearms were surprisingly muscular. A clock somewhere was ticking. Her legs were starting to numb. She couldn’t see much of his face… Read it
Water Wings
She ducks under the water, a pair of goggles revealing the rippling bodies beneath it. Rise, suck, duck, she bubbles along the bottom of the pool, propelled from the edge she pushed from, undulating like a stingray. She forces herself lower, as close to the tiles as possible, even though every atom of air in her body wills her to… Read it
My Last Rolo
“Would you like my last Rolo?” I hold it in the palm of my hand, lying in state in its foil wrapper. She turns towards me and wipes away the strands of hair that are stuck to the tear trails on her cheeks. “I know it’s an old cliché, you just look like you could do with it” I smile… Read it
Palladium
She knew it was not a ring. The box was the wrong shape, longer, oblong. And it would all have been too soon, Leave or no Leave. But the curving band of gold, the detailed glitter, the way it lay against the satin; “it makes my heart spin”, she said. “Like the rings of Saturn” he was smiling, “except they’re… Read it
Meat
“The meat on this kebab is tough,” I said. I heard Slick sigh over his frying pan. “Just shut up and eat it.” I missed Jimmy’s cooking. He’d mixed it up a little. Slick only fed me meat. I dragged a chunk of beef from the skewer. “What part of a cow is this?” I asked. “How the Hell am… Read it
Storms Ahead
When I arrive there are crowds of early risers waiting out the countdown to cancellations of service in mute pockets of steam from polymer cups. The young guy behind the counter of Pret-a-Manger rubs his eye with the heel of his hand and asks me if I want a bag. My tongue is morning numb so I nod and try… Read it
Marked in Red
The elegant tap of her designer pumps brightens the sound of the working morning. One hand clasps a sleek umbrella and the other, a piping hot coffee. The blonde bob resting on her shoulders bounces with every graceful step and her plump red lips smile at her admirers. She is something out of an advertisement, women envy her and men… Read it