Super Short Stories

Stan Mason

Description

This anthology is vibrant in its nature including tales of comedy, horror, intrigue, fantasy and romance. It contains a host of wonderful characters and many quite ingenious. Stories.You will really enjoy reading them!

Sujets

• Short story

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 14 janvier 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783335497
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
Super Short Stories

By
Stan Mason



Publisher Information
Super Short Stories
Published in 2014 by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Copyright © 2014 Stan Mason
The right of Stan Mason to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.



The Love That Never Failed
Charlie Carnegie had been employed by Frederick Myers Milk Distributors for over thirty years. His service career had been impeccable. In fact he could boast that he missed only five mornings through sickness in the whole of three decades. Such loyalty and constancy in the past was considered invaluable, but times had changed, trading was different, and the preference of the public in their choice of shopping had entered new dimension. Ultimately, despite his dedicated service to the milk company, he was made redundant. The value of the redundancy cheque given to him by his superior was sufficient to carry him through the best part of a year but after that he was on his own. He had known that redundancy was coming for some considerable time. Rumour and gossip had permeated through the company grapevine for nearly a year. Charlie had thought about it many times but there was nothing he could do to alter the course of events. At forty-eight years of age, with no particular experience in any other field, he would be very hard put to find another company willing to employ him either in or out of the milk distribution business.
The core of the problem was endemic. For some years the supermarkets had been selling milk at very competitive prices which meant that the ordinary run-of-the mill milkman, who was forced to charge higher prices because of the cost of delivery to households, was being gradually squeezed out of the business. People no longer waited for their milk to be delivered to their doorsteps. They drove to the large supermarkets, enjoying comfortable parking facilities, and made all their purchases there. His dismissal had been staved off for a while by selling other products such as eggs, bread and a variety of groceries when he went on his milk-round, but such measures by themselves were no panacea for the main problem because supermarkets sold such products at cheaper prices as well. Consequently, one day, when he had completed his daily round, the long-awaited letter was handed to him and he was faced with the awful prospect of remaining unemployed for the rest of his life because no one else wanted to employ him at his age. He decided to keep the secret of his dismissal from his wife for as long as he could. There was no rhyme or reason in the decision. It was simply that he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit the situation to himself or anyone else. In order to maintain the pretence after he had been made redundant, he would leave the house early each morning at the normal time and return in the afternoon as though he had been on his milk-round. In reality, he sauntered to a cafe in the market square for breakfast and then went for a long walk until he arrived at the local inn where he met some of his colleagues who had also been made redundant. They were all old troopers who had given their working lives to the milk distribution company. At the inn, they discussed old times and commiserated with each other over a pint of beer, each one knowing it was unlikely they would ever work again. Some of them didn’t mind because they were near to retirement age and had already planned what they were going to do with their lives. Charlie was different. He was far too young for a pension and far too old to be employed. Of one thing he was certain. He couldn’t continue to pretend for much longer; there had to come a point in his life when he told his wife the truth. After all, she would be expecting his wage-packet at the end of the month and he wouldn’t be able to produce it.
He mused on what she would say. Madge was a real Trojan. She took his salary cheque each month when he brought it home and handed him his pocket money for him to spend as he wished. She paid all the bills and made the family financial arrangements as required. He never asked about the bills; never enquired about the purchases they made. Madge handled the finances on her own. And there was never any problem. He never heard her complain there was insufficient money to make ends meet. Nor could he recall seeing any bills in red letters indicating it was a final demand. On reflection, the running of the house went like clockwork. She had handled their financial affairs brilliantly over the years, better than most other people. About five years earlier, she told him they had repaid the mortgage on the house. At the same time they enjoyed travelling abroad each summer for their holidays. They normally visited Spain, Italy, Malta or Turkey but in recent years they had gone to the United States and Hong Kong. Furthermore, they had replaced all their carpets, curtains, and all their kitchen appliances every few years. They owned four televisions, two video-recorders, bought a brand new car every five years, had just had a new kitchen installed in its entirety, as well as double-glazed windows and doors fitted at enormous expense. He didn’t know how she did it on the relatively modest salary he earned. Somehow she had a talent for financial administration because they never went short of anything. But that was her field of operation. His main interest was supporting Manchester United Football Club which consumed most of his spare time, especially when he went to matches or spent an inordinate amount of time discussing the results, the team and the Premier League with his friends at the popular local inn.
‘You’re going to have to tell her sooner or later,’ commented Graham Dickens, one of his old working colleagues. ‘You can’t keep it a secret for ever. Once the bills start coming in and you can’t pay them, she’ll want to know what’s going on.’
‘I always give her my salary cheque,’ admitted Charlie rather shamefacedly. ‘She’s the one who pays all the bills.’
‘Then she’ll find out soon enough,’ added Brian Weeks, another one of his mates. ‘At the end of the month she’ll want to know what’s happened to your salary cheque. You won’t be able to hide it from her then.’
‘Why can’t you tell her?’ asked Graham, before attempting to empty the glass of beer in front of him. ‘It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘That’s right,’ concurred Brian. ‘It’s a fact of life. People don’t need milkmen to bring their pinta to the doorstep every day. Supermarkets have taken over.’
‘Madge has done such a brilliant job over the years,’ returned Charlie, almost in tears, ‘I can’t bring myself to tell her what’s happened.’
‘Do you want us to go along with you to tell her,’ advanced Graham trying to be helpful.
‘No, no!’ pleaded Charlie. ‘I’ll do it myself.’
‘I’m surprised she didn’t read it in the local newspaper,’ rendered Brian with an element of surprise in his voice. ‘The article said that seventy-five milkmen were being made redundant.’
‘I don’t think she reads the local newspaper,’ explained Charlie. ‘Anyway, she never said anything to me about it.’
‘She probably thinks you’re one of those they kept on,’ suggested Brian, taking a swig from his glass.
‘What you need is some Dutch Courage,’ Graham told him. ‘If you like I’ll buy you a couple of whiskies. Brian will do the same, and then you can go home and tell her without feeling unhappy about it.’
‘No, I’m going to have to pluck up my own courage and tell her.’
They discussed the matter further, always coming to the same conclusion, and Charlie left the inn unhappily, preparing mentally for the confrontation with his wife.
As he approached the house he saw her looking out of the front room window. They waved to each other and he realised that this was the moment he had to tell her about his misfortune. Having accepted his fate himself, he had no idea how she would receive the news. He opened the door and walked into the front room. She turned to face him and he took her in his arms and kissed her long and warmly.
‘My goodness!’ she said in surprise, her eyes sparkling. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure? You haven’t done that for quite some time.’ She noticed his furrowed brow and pushed him back a little. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Wrong?’ he asked, although he didn’t mean to say the word.
The sparkle disappeared from her eyes. ‘You look as though you’ve lost a pound and found a penny.’
‘You’d better sit down,’ he told her. ‘I’ve something to tell you. It’s not pleasant.’
‘You’ve been to the doctor and he told you you’re suffering from an incurable disease!’ she ventured hastily.
‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ he responded. ‘I’m perfectly all right.’
‘There’s another woman in your life which you haven’t told me about!’
‘Of course not,’ he replied in frustration. ‘You’re the only woman for me. Always have been, always will be.’
Madge gave a slight sigh of relief. ‘Then we have nothing to worry about. You’ve got your health and we have each other.’
‘Please sit down and listen to what I have to say,’ he implored, shrugging off her euphoria. She obeyed him and sat quite still wondering what he had to say. He walked up and down for a while trying to frame the words in his mind.
‘For heaven’s sake!’ she scolded gently. ‘You’ll wear out the carpet in a minute. What’s on your mind?’
‘I’ve been made red