Short story collection

We’re Not Getting Divorced and other stories

The collection is currently being typeset, and with any luck will take wing during the autumn of 2024.

“There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning”. Louis L'Amour

These stories are about endings and beginnings. And about justice and fairness, humility and compassion, love and madness and autonomy. Some may throw light into life's dim and cobwebbed corners, others walk well-trodden paths. Above all they are meant to be entertaining reads. I hope you enjoy them.

This is how they begin,,,

All Is Bright

Jack and I married fifty-six years ago. We were just teenagers. It's only natural I feel lonely without him, but knowing that doesn't help. I spend my days playing his records, reading his books, and trying to stop my mind coming up with things I need to tell him when he gets home. It's two months since he died and I'm in all sorts of trouble…

Vector Analysis

Banx and Flatface run from the elevator, across the platform, through doors emitting pre-close beeps. A robot says 'Please stand clear of the closing doors'. Banx reaches up with his left and grabs a grab-bar. The doors hiss shut, everyone breathes. The train lurches…

Give and Forgive

I'd be able to move if I wanted to, I thought. But I didn't want to. All I wanted to do was lie still. So I did…

Set Out Running

He's not snugged up into Sophie's warm back. He's not in bed. He's downstairs, on the sofa. Last night comes back to him in a lump. It was no ordinary row. He can still taste its bitterness…

Why Don't We Find Out?

When I was twenty, I played guitar in an acid rock/ska fusion band steeped in hippy ideals of universal love and compassion. The other guitarist was a gentle man from the Scots borders called Ewan. Mystic Kev was the drummer. Bassists came and went. We were into a kind of disciplined jamming, riffing around our own songs and re-imagined covers. One song we wrote together, 'Do you still think of me?', was about love we'd lost that still haunted our hearts. Each of us had one…

The Tide Turned

A crescent moon was rising between tower blocks. Or possibly setting. I sat on a bench, by the canal, at the end of my second year at Manchester Metropolitan. I had toothbrush, trunks, towel and a change of clothes in a backpack. £30 in a pocket. I had to get away, wasn't sure I'd ever come back. I wanted sun, blue skies, salt water. And romance, of course…

Party Wall

Dulcie was still in her dressing gown. She had her back to the wall, between the dresser and the corner cupboard. A dark woman in police uniform was sitting in Dulcie's chair. A man sat in my chair, older than the woman. He had a deep tan and short grey hair, and was dressed more for mountain walking than the dull suburbs of a southern city. 'Mr Williams,' he said. He was Scottish. He spoke softly, but we could all hear him. 'I'm Detective Sergeant Grant. This is PC Dodds. How did you sleep?'

Ridiculous

Mr Jarman, come in, sit down. This machine is recording our conversation. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?

Yeah, sure…

You Could Cut Hair

It’s not me, it’s all them others. Don't we all think like that, sometimes? I do, sure enough. But now and again I realise it might be me, too. It might be what I’m doing that makes relationships drift off kilter. Go sour, even. That’s how I felt this morning. Naomi was doing early shift at the restaurant. Gavin wouldn't be up before midday. Bill was in HMP Bullingdon until Christmas. I had no-one to meet, nothing to do, nowhere to go. I decided to get away from Oxford and my too-familiar flat and go down to see my father. And mother of course. Always a delight…

We're Not Getting Divorced

Frank had a headache. David was driving aggressively, as usual, and looked grey and washed out. Frank hated putting his life in the hands of someone else, even if they were competent and sober. David was neither…

A Little Pirouette On The Landing

John hunched himself up on his elbow and looked at the woman beside him. He couldn't help smiling at his thoughts, which were about love and loving and loving her. He and Beth had known each other for a long time. She was lying on her back, her chest rising and falling as she breathed in and out. She was smiling too, he wasn't sure why. Her eyes were shut. 'It's a funny old business, isn't it?' he said, knowing she was awake enough to respond…