Rigby Taylor
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Everything posted by Rigby Taylor
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From a lookout high on the coastal hills, the sea and National Park filled their vision and recent memories filled their heads. Reluctantly they turned towards the hinterland where solitary mountain cones punctuated rolling hills and valleys. ‘Over there,’ pointed Bart. ‘Beneath that small mountain. Be there in half an hour.’ Robert’s smile dropped. He disliked not knowing, not being in control of his life. With an effort he prevented himself from throwing a tantrum and refusing to go.
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Thanks for commenting so astutely. You are correct, as you will discover today.
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You obviously have excellent taste, Canuk
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Robert's modest - Have you never had self doubts? Glad you like Monique
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And thank you for reading it, JeffreyL
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Don't tell me you've changed your mind about Bart?
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Robert ticked off the items. ‘Tent, sleeping bags, clothes, food, water, stove, silk samples. Blast off!’ When they called in to Bart’s to pick up his clothes, Hazel was waiting with another of her enormous Black-forest gateaux; layers of sticky chocolate cake and cream topped by flakes and glacé cherries, carefully packed into a cardboard box. ‘Hazel it’s magnificent! No one should go camping without one.’ Bart handed her the keys of his car. ‘For what it’s worth, Hyacinth’s yours whi
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During a week in which Robert's throat slowly healed and preparations for the trip to India occupied most of Monique's waking hours, Sanjay found time to continue his investigations. Under the pretext of needing someone to collect rents while he was away, he made an appointment to see Arnold Osbairne, using his mother’s surname. The elderly receptionist clearly didn’t believe that a man of his ethnicity could be called MacDonald, but sent him through to the Osbairne inner sanctum nonetheless. Ar
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Gosh, thanks guys.
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As they stepped from the lift into the smell of disinfectant and bedpans, a short, thickset man of about their own age walked towards them. ‘Robert’s parents?’ They nodded dumbly. He gave a tentative smile and with a flick of his head indicated they should follow. ‘How is he?’ Monique asked nervously ‘They won’t tell me. I’m not a relative. I've been waiting for you.’ Eight silent beds skulked behind green curtains. Ralf indicated one and waited in the corridor. Rob
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Very thoughtful comments, Thanks. But I'm not sure how they got onto this page.
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Thank you Wesley8890. You say the nicest things.
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The following Tuesday morning, Monique and Susie found an excitable, chain-smoking Mrs Sorens at home. In rasping cadences she welcomed and invited them in. The house was large, blatantly expensive and extraordinarily messy. Dried washing skulked in its basket in the middle of the hall-way, the sink bench was submerged beneath unwashed dishes, a partially dismantled vacuum cleaner emptied its dust into a corner, shopping was still in plastic bags on the dining table and discarded clothing litter
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Monique and Sanjay’s alarm when confronted by Bart’s injuries, turned to horror when they learned the truth about the accident. He insisted he already felt much better, although his bloodied ear, bruised neck, lacerated hands and slow, painful movements didn’t back up the assertions. Things were as bad under his clothes, but during the bathing and dressing of wounds that morning he had made Robert promise not to mention them. Sympathy was the last thing he wanted. He had already snapped at Moniq
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What? No pity for Bart?
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Robert’s Saturday morning was given over to study. During lunch he shared with his parents his bewilderment over the latest Bible reading and the headmaster’s state of mind. Returning to his room, half a minute was spent on decision making. He knew what he wanted but thought it best to honour the oracle. He tossed a coin, took careful note of his reaction, and set off at a brisk jog. Twenty minutes later he was in the dark stairwell outside Bart’s unit. Muffled, over-heated voices seeped through
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Don't worry, Lance gets his Just deserts... Terry, does Murry seem like the sort of guy to kill himself so painfully?
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Next day, Lance was waiting. ‘Brown-eye,’ he sneered across the common room, ‘Why do you spend so much time doing little jobs for Vaselly in the gym? Anyone would think you were married to him.’ Robert managed a confused look. ‘What’s Vaselly got to do with it?’ Someone sniggered. ‘You know bloody well what,’ Lance simpered. ‘Running around after him like a slobbery little dog. Even the headmaster thinks it’s strange.’ Robert managed a casual shrug. ‘You’ve lost me
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Thanks, WildcatLes, I appreciate your kind words. People like you are the reason guys like me write stories.There's quite a bit of me in Robert, but the plot is completely fiction. I hope you enjoy the rest of the tale.
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Bart is a very nervous young man. He knows what he's doing is not acceptable to most people, yet there's a compulsion in himself to be true to himself. He can be a bit stuffy, but he's thoughtful and needs to make sure everything is not going to go belly-up. He's also brave, to do what he is doing.
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‘How was the film?’ Father and son were sharing a late breakfast; Monique had gone with Susie to the Sunday markets. ‘Mushy, sentimental, banal. We left early.’ ‘Good on you. What are you doing today? Susie and Jeff are coming to lunch.’ ‘I’ve three assignments to complete and a couple of experiments to write up; that’ll take most of the day.’ ‘You’re looking pleased with yourself.’ ‘Yep.’ ‘Any particular reason?’ ‘Nope.’ ‘Bart’s congeni
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And thank you JeffreyL for your kind words.
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He had doubts beforehand, but for him, like it was me, it was finding peace... Ah, at last, now I know what my problem was. Now I can get on with my life.
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As soon as lunch was over Robert set off at a cracking pace, arriving at the units forty minutes early. Suddenly shy, he scouted around and discovered the security door to the courtyards. It was ajar, so he slipped through, pulled it shut behind him, bounded up the three flights of stairs and, having by now decided he didn’t care if it was childish to arrive so early, knocked on the kitchen door. An elderly head poked from the opposite entrance, demanding his name, what he wanted, and how he had
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Thank you Canuk. You couldn't have written anything nicer.
