Romance

The feel of the soft grass beneath her bare feet delighted Pearl as she danced on the lawn in the park.’  The movements of her colourful dress followed those of her small body.’  It was her fifth birthday but as far a she was concerned it was always a special day when she and her mother visited the park.’  The flowers were so colourful in her eyes and the deep shadows under the trees mysterious and exciting.’  Best of all she loved the natural pool with the fountains at the foot of the hill.’  It was large and exhilarating. Around it was a low wall and in the water were statues of nymphs laughing and dancing. From one, a stream …

It was the hand- writing on the inside cover of the battered book that immediately fascinated me. By its style, I immediately felt it was by the hand of a youth: ‘A girl’™s in all probability,’ I thought. Then, at the end of the script – a name ‘¦ But this is a digression. This story actually begins exactly twenty one years ago ‘“ the day maturity lead me to search for a deeper meaning to life. I felt then the need to feed the spirit and soul something not found in a trip overseas, upon a dining table, or other amenities and joys of everyday living. I began attending services at a synagogue quite close to our home. As …

‘œTwenty five,’ was Evelyn’s first thought when she woke and rose from her bed to a chilly and cloudy June morning.’  ‘œMost of my acquaintances married and with growing families.’’  The thought lately was uppermost in her mind.’  Twenty five,’ she repeated to herself as she looked at her reflection. Looking beyond her reflection through her bedroom window she could see a branch of a slender elm on the background of the red brick wall of their neighbour’™s house.’  Somehow the branch, too, seemed a little sad that morning. Evelyn imagined her parents waiting expectantly for her to appear at breakfast with a smile and a present for her, their cheerful ‘œHappy Birthday, Eve!’, exaggeratingly loud.’  No doubt there would …

‘œWhat’™s your name?’ ‘œAnsi.’  What’™s yours?’ ‘œMaynard.’ ‘œWhat a funny name.’  Play conkers?’ ‘œ’˜Course.’ ‘œ’˜Cummon then.’  I got one -‘  the knight.’  Beats all.’  Beat yours too.’ ‘œNo he won’™t.’  I got one I call Gallahad.’  Got twenty four with ‘˜im.’  Bet I’™ll get your knight.’ ‘œCummon then.’ I wound Gallahad’™s string carefully around my finger with the horse-chestnut dangling freely. It was early autumn, the start of the school year, when the brown nuts were at their hardest and best.’  Now and then my conker touched my bare knee as it swung freely. Squinting critically and carefully at Ansi’™s knight I willed Gallahad to win.’  The knight looked’  dryer and more brittle than mine.’  He held it chest high …

‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œAllow me to introduce myself. I’™m Bechstein.’ ‘ ‘  Music has been all my life. You must excuse my present, temporary home which is so dingy and dusty, I have lived in far grander homes than this, but met few who could match the gratiousness of Mr. Hawley.’  Mr, Hawley is an extremely nice man – all the more you get to know him.’  He has been so very kind to me and during my stay here, has done me so much good.’  ‘ ‘ ‘  Excuse my being so dusty. I love being seen at my best but appearances are, of course, not everything you must know.’  ‘ ‘ ‘  I’™m pleased to make your acquaintance.’  I can see you are well educated and …

‘ ‘ ‘  Dear Juliette ‘ ‘ ‘  Normally I wouldn’™t be writing but simply speaking to you in person. I did, however, decide to write in order both to clear my own mind on the matter and also to make sure that the salient points won’™t become lost in what might easily become a great deal of verbiage passing from mouth to ear. ‘ ‘ ‘  This coming autumn we will have been relating for exactly five years. I remember so well the corner caf? in the Rue des Lions, Paris, the song, Autumn Leaves’  in the air around us. My last day before returning. Something I never did tell you is that it was your travel bag label that prompted me to ask’  if …

‘ ‘ ‘  It was to be a truly special and joyous occasion; Pamella was getting married to Tony. ‘œThey make such a beautiful couple,’ I thought. ‘œCould be taken for a Grecian God and Goddess.’’  ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  My thoughts were relaxed and lazy as I gazed rather dreamily through my kitchen window to our small garden. Pamella’™s mother, Grace, is my best friend and I was as happy as she at the coming marriage.’  The jangle of the phone cut my thoughts. ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  ‘œOddy, listen.’ It was Grace. Ever since college she has called me that. Actually my name is Odette but as far as Grace is concerned, it was always Oddy; ‘œThe Manor has thrown in two crates of French Champagne …