|Moving Day (standard:science fiction, 1169 words)|
|Author: Brian Cross||Added: Aug 04 2005||Views/Reads: 2608/1236||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A short story set in Suffolk UK; what seems to be a straightforward couple of miles move develops unforeseen complications|
MOVING DAY Julian Chesney heaved a sigh of relief. Writers suffered more than most from disruption and now after weeks of it, moving day had finally arrived. Now as he sped along the beach road in spring sunshine he could see the white pebbledash outline of his new home zooming large. Shortly he'd seen the pantechnicon of T@B removals parked in his driveway, together with his wife Jodie's car, who'd traveled ahead to supervise things. He inched his head closer to the screen and frowned, the pantechnicon wasn't there. They'd wasted no time in getting the job done, fine as long as Jodie had supervised then correctly but that was another thing, her MG was missing also. Then again, that was okay, she'd probably popped to the village store for emergency provisions. Jodie after all, was a go-ahead woman, something he liked about her. He parked his car, strode towards the house, it looked like a white fortress against the blue sky, albeit in need of a little attention but he wasn't worried about that, he'd planned on making a few improvements and renovation was easy enough to arrange. The frosted glass door was locked, of course it would be. Jodie had the keys which made him sigh she might have been considerate enough to await his arrival. He made a mental note to get a separate bunch cut and then proceeded to the back, where the extensive lounge provided a panoramic view of the sea. Then his breath caught in his throat, his mouth became as dry and rough as the pebbled beach; he was staring into a large void, nothing but bare floorboards and paintings he'd bought off the previous owner. He raked his fingers through his hair, suddenly aware of the heat of the day. He'd had things to tie up at the other end so Jodie and the removal men had left a couple of hours earlier. What the hell had happened? Three flat miles of open beach road lay between Aldeburgh and their new Thorpeness home, if there had been problems he could hardly have missed them. But no trace. He grabbed his mobile phone from his pocket, fumbled and almost dropped it before his shaky fingers tapped out Jodie's number. Her phone was switched off. He cursed, swung round. To the few ramblers along the beach he must seem like a whirling dervish he called the removal company Ah, Mr. Chesney...' a voice crackled before the line went dead. He felt like screaming to high heaven why couldn't they erect decent phone lines in this part of the world? He tried again to no avail. The phone in the house had it been connected? He couldn't remember. But he didn't need to break the glass to find out; he'd known a locksmith in days gone by, learned a few tricks he'd later applied to his novels. He ran to the side door and picked the lock in seconds. He got that sinking feeling the moment he picked up the lounge phone it was disconnected, but there was a separate line in the gallery upstairs the room that was supposed to provide inspiration for his writing Again, it hadn't been connected. Anxiety turned to despair, turned to anger. A downward spiral of emotions ending in deceit. Deceit was the name of this game, what else could it be? He'd no reason to believe she might deceive him, she was dynamic, involved in everything but His mind was becoming a waterlogged field of irrational thoughts, sucking him down, denying him any sense of direction. He ran down the stairs two at a time she'd left him as high and dry as the ridge their new home was built on. Click here to read the rest of this story (75 more lines)
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