The Cafe

Audio for this story will follow next week I hope.
A little social commentary and maybe a view of a favourite character from a different angle.




Chris Evans babbled away on the radio sounding earnest but talking nonsense, ‘entertaining’ the breakfast guests in the cafe whether they wanted him to or not. The tables were filled with lone diners enjoying a bacon roll or scrambled egg on toast and family members wishing they'd left a little later so they didn't have time to kill bickering over a cup of tea while waiting to wave their goodbyes at the nearby bus station. Kids played noisily at one table - squabbling over an electronic game, drowning out the bacon sizzling gently on the hot plate and the occasional hiss and whoosh of the steamer.

Bob had run this cafe for 20 years. Back then this was the place to be for breakfast or afternoon tea, it was packed every morning and did a steady trade all day. Even 10 years ago the turn over was double what it was now. Bob looked at the straggled collection of diners it now attracted; basically they were the lowest common dominators, those who couldn't afford the inflated prices of Starbucks or Costa, those who didn't need Wi-Fi connections or plug sockets, those who let the march of time pass them by. The rest had slowly deserted him walking the extra 50 metres to the American coffee giant to get exactly the same drinks at double the price, why? How? How had Starbucks created a market for themselves? How had a skinny latte even become a thing? When Bob took over the café people used to drink 3 hot drinks, maybe 4, tea, coffee, frothy coffee and at a push hot chocolate. But now they all wanted flat whites and double chocspressos, decaf tea, decaf coffee decaf water. Even some of the bus drivers who used to be his best customers now walked passed the cafe looking straight ahead, avoiding eye-contact ashamed by their desertion. Bob sighed and served another cup of milky tea to an old woman with no teeth who counted out her change to pay for it and always miscounted by 5p. Bob always looked the other way, they wouldn’t do that in Costa, this was the human touch, real service by real people, not the plastic have a nice day service of the big chains. 
Bob had never seen the man in the suit before but he watched him now as he wiped his mouth with his napkin rubbing away the remnants of a bacon sandwich that he had devoured with enthusiasm, he then used the same napkin to wipe away the brown sauce and grease from his sticky fingers. Despite his middle age the newcomer looked like a kid in a sweet shop, Bob wondered if he was about to lick the plate. He didn’t, he just smiled and stood up and approached the counter.
'Another cup of tea please boss,' he said to Bob in a sing song voice.
Bob smiled and busied himself with topping up the tea pot.
‘Thank heavens for places like these,' the stranger said as he took his steaming mug and handed over the money for the tea. ‘I don’t know how I’d survive if there were only the soulless coffee shops.’ Only a few words but words that had Bob smiling all day. 
Until that is he saw the stranger again, obviously back from wherever the bus at the bus station had taken him. But this time he walked straight over to the green enemy and went in. Bob did know why but he felt betrayed, stabbed in the back, only a few hours ago the stranger been his ally but now he was a turncoat. Bob went back to cleaning the grill in the now nearly deserted café grumbling about betrayal and hypocrisy as he did so.
‘Cup of tea please.’ Bob looked around to see the man standing there counting out the £1.50.
‘I thought you'd gone to Starbucks.’ said Bob an accusing tone in his voice.
‘I did, I'll use their toilets and their Wi-Fi but I'm not drinking their muck when there's a real cup of tea here.’
Bob was an avowed heterosexual, he'd never kissed a man, never wanted to, never even kissed his son or grandson but right now he could kiss this stranger full on the lips.

The Cupcakes Murder Part 4

This is part four of the Cupcakes Murder for part one click here, part two here and part three here
There is a slight problem with the last two words of the audio, apologies for this I am working hard to fix it.
When the woman with two faces had heard the owner of Cupcakes had got a private detective on the case, she began to worry. Private Dicks had the habit of sniffing out the truth, they had their ways and means and this Archer Stanley was meant to be one of the best. She really didn’t need to worry. She was always careful, very careful. Most people put layers in between them and the killers to safeguard themselves, but the woman with two faces thought that the more layers there were the more chance of someone talking out of turn. So she dealt directly with her assassins, always face to face, paid only in cash. There were no middlemen to blab, no paper trail to follow. It was just two people doing business and if it came down to it, her word against theirs. But she used the best, and trusted her men not to squeal, after all she paid them enough to buy their silence. But still she didn’t like the thought of a pesky detective meddling in her business.

This whole affair had been strange. She’d been tipped off about the sleazebag Santa by some anonymous voice on the phone. At first she’d decided to ignore it, but the claims that voice had made echoed round her mind. It wasn’t the way she usually did business, victims were usually brought to her attention by people she knew or she read about them herself not anonymous tip offs. So she’d been suspicious about this voice but against her better judgement she’d decided to look into it anyway and when she did, she drew the conclusion that Santa had to be eliminated for the sake of womankind. As usual Vinny had done a good job, he always did, she felt safe using him, he had skill and luck; a winning combination.  But now she had an uneasy feeling, the strange voice on the phone, the private detective, was the net closing in on her?  It was time to talk to Vinny.

Vinny gave her a tingle of excitement every time she saw him, she wasn’t sure if it was sexual or just the illicit nature of their business but she felt her hairs stand on end as she looked into his haunting eyes. He blew out a lungful of smoke as he waited for her to speak.

‘There’s trouble brewing VInny? There’s a detective poking around the Cupcakes business. He’s asking too many questions by all accounts. ’

Vinny looked unconcerned, if he was worried, he didn’t show it.

‘I’ll sort it.’ he said hardly moving his lips. ‘Don’t worry.’ He smiled slightly letting the light catch his diamond.

‘Be careful.’ The Woman with Two Faces said.

‘Don’t worry.’ Vinny repeated as he got up to leave, lighting a new cigarette as he did so.

So Vinny retraced his steps of a few days earlier. It was a long journey but that was good, it would give him chance to plan.  He closed his eyes and cleared his mind. He recalled what The Woman with Two Faces had told him about the detective. Archer Stanley, works alone, drinks alone, no one to miss him when he was gone. This was a case of making someone disappear, no body left behind, no evidence. By the time anyone noticed he was gone, no one would remember who he was. it was an easy job.

Vinny got off the coach, stretched his back and lit a cigarette. He looked around him and chose his direction. He’d walk to Archer’s office, lose himself in the crowd. The sun was beginning to set over the building causing strange shadows, this was Vinny’s time of day. He found the building he was looking for, an office above a bar - typical for a detective he thought, slightly more tricky for a disappearance. The light was on, Archer was in. He climbed the stairs and tried the door, it swung open. He had his gun in his hand ready.

But unless Archer was a woman it wasn’t the detective who was sitting in front of him.

Vinny watched as the smile that greeted him turned to horror when the secretary saw the gun. He wished it hadn’t because it was a beautiful smile.

‘Where’s Archer?’ He said, his voice rough and angry. He was angry with the woman for not being Archer, angry with Two Faces for not giving him the right info, angry with himself for not fact checking and angry that he wouldn’t see that smile again. 

‘He’s’ her voice was scared. ‘should be here soon.’ she managed to say.

‘I’ll wait.’ Vinny said looking around the room for a chair. He needed time to think. He needed a plan B. But he didn’t have long, within minutes there were foot steps on the stairs and the door swung open.

A look of relief came across the girl’s face as Archer Stanley walked into the room.

For Part 5 click here 

The River

It was only s small river, more than a stream but calling it a river seemed to over grandise it. Usually it meandered along like a lazy stroll in the park but today it bubbled and belched, swollen by the overnight rain, no longer a stroll now a frantic race, a race for the finish. Its banks struggling to contain the excited water that looked for any and every opportunity to escape and envelop the surrounding land. Clem splashed around, trying to control her movements, but that was easier said than done. The water buffeted her, throwing her hither and tither, she was losing the battle. The riverbed was strewn with discarded garbage creating additional hazards on top of the strong current. Why did people throw their rubbish into the stream? Clem was a strong swimmer but this was not the calm waters of the local pool and she was fully clothed not in her swimming costume.
She shut her eyes as she felt a wave of water splash over her and then took in a huge lungful of air as she resurfaced. Her eyes scanned the water looking for the boy.
Impulse had made her dive in, she'd seen the boy slip on the bank and get dragged in by the malevolent waters and she knew she had to do something. But she was regretting it now, she’d underestimated how tough it would be as the heavy clothes and freezing water were getting the better of her. She felt a searing pain in her leg, her skin ripped on something below the surface, it stung like hell as the wound opened up to the cold waters.
She felt faint, weak but she was close to the boy now and could, yes just one hand and ... she grabbed the boy. But then was faced with another problem, how to get out of the river. She held the limp figure above the waterline, she could hear him breathing but she doubted he was conscious.  Her arms were aching now and her leg stinging. She could reach the riverbed with her feet but her injured leg could not take her weight. As the water seemed to be getting stronger Clem seemed to be getting weaker. Another wave of water crashed over her, her arms holding the boy her legs kicking frantically. She done all she could, she needed help.

‘Pull yourself together girl.’ She said to herself. ‘You’ve got this far, five steps and you are at the bank.’

She moved her legs, they were going to be the hardest and most painful 5 steps of her life. The water pulled her in the opposite direction like a drunken friend who wants you to go to another party when all you want to do is get the night bus home.. But she resisted its pull, ignored the pain and set her mind on getting to the bank.

Just a step away two policemen raced to the bank. Finally – thought Clem, better late than never.

‘Sir, pass me the boy,’ the first copper yelled above the noise of the water.

Clem held the child out in front of her and the policeman took him off her.

‘Sir, grab my arm.’ The other officer said. Clem ignored him, why had he assumed she was a man, were only men heroes? She took one more step and fell out of the stream and on to the bank. She didn’t need any man to help her.            

Short Story Poem Podcast 5

As I am away this week and might not have time to write a story  I am doing something a bit different. I’m sharing with you my short story poems. A short story poem is a sort of combination of a poem and a short story. I am not really a poet but I hope these make you smile.

Meaningless

So drunk

As a skunk

Or another

Conveniently rhyming

Mammal.

Cos when

Did you last see

a skunk

Drunk?

I rest my case.

Heartache

Tea for two

but you

have gone

so tea for me,

that’s tea for one.

High Cholesterol

Hi Cholesterol

goodbye bacon.

Dungarees

I have to say

the way

she wears her dungarees

makes my knees

go weak.

My heart

beat faster.

I can't see passed

her beauty

a cutie in dungarees.

The Wilds of Facebook

He only comments

on his girlfriend's posts

once I've already commented.

Classic animal behaviour;

rutting,

strutting

marking territory.

Reminding me,

who's alpha male around here ...

or so he thinks.

Paternoster

Love’s like a paternoster.

It has its ups and downs

but it never stops.

And it’s made for two people

but sometimes a third squeezes in.

Find day 1 here day 2 here day 3 here day 4 here and day 5 here