Dramatic Jewels

Julie found the idea of her daughter at drama school upsetting.  But she was determined not to intervene in Laura’s life.  Julie prayed for Laura to come to her senses and choose something practical to study instead.  Science, Accountancy, Teaching. They led to secure work and a certain future.  But drama? She visualised years of struggle and casting couches.  A lifetime of waitressing, hoping for the break that never came.  Once, Julie vented her frustration to a friend, a relatively recent friend who didn’t know her past.

“But she might be the next Kiera.” The friend had said.  “She’s beautiful.  You’ve got to let her try.”

“You watch too many talent shows on the telly.” Julie had retorted. “She’s just another in a long line of people waiting for fame to drop into their lap.”

“Let her have her dreams.  It doesn’t hurt.”

They bickered on.  But Julie knew that she had to let Laura choose her own way, and then be there for her when it all went wrong. 

The week of the audition for drama school came.  Laura barely left her bedroom.  Julie could hear scenes from Arthur Miller drift through the partition wall, and a periodic thump as the dead faint was rehearsed. She put the ladders up into the loft.  There, she retrieved a mildewed basket and took it down to the kitchen table. There was an old tobacco tin filled with glass and pearlescent beads.  Then, contained within an old Park Drive packet, she found some nylon cord wrapped around a card.   She began to methodically thread one onto the other.

When tea time arrived, Laura came out in search of food.  Julie beckoned her over.

“I wish my Mum was here to advise you.  She could have given you so much guidance.  She could have told you all about her days in rep theatre.”

“And that advert she did.” Laura joined in, smiling.  “Pity the advert wasn’t shown as often as she told us about it.”

“But these were her beads.  She liked an unusual necklace and loved to pull them all to bits and remake them.”  Julie held her work in her cupped hands, and then placed it into Laura’s. “Wear them for me?  Then I know that she’s with you.  Something might rub off them.”

Laura accepted the beads as if she were being handed her first BAFTA statuette.

http://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/180185089/vintage-bead-threading-collection?ref=shop_home_active_6

Vintage bead threading collection available in the Etsy shop, SewsAttic.

For more short stories from Sarah Miller Walters search for 'Athene and Other Stories' on Amazon Kindle.

Set of 24 Postcards – Isle of Wight

 Carol knew that this would probably be their last family holiday.  The twins were going to be 16 later in the year. They kicked around with hands in pockets, refusing every suggestion that their parents made.  Incessant bickering between all four of the family members pockmarked every day of the fortnight.

She bought a postcard every day, sometimes two.  She didn’t write on them or post them. She tucked them away in the back pocket of her handbag, along with her emergency tenner and her pills.  No-one else in the family noticed her little collection, but then, she doubted if they would notice even if she carried half of the National Gallery around with her.  That was her job, packhorse.

By the time that they boarded the ferry to leave the Isle, Carol had collected 24 postcards in all.  They remained in the zippered back pocket of her handbag throughout the journey back to Surrey.  The following Monday, she saw her husband off to work, and the twins off for their final year at school. She then took a train to Waterloo and found a place under the clock.  She stared at the continually disgorging hoards as they made their way across the concourse, keeping her eye out for that familiar hat. She saw it, then the smile that she loved beaming out from under the shadow of the brim.  After a brief squeeze of hands, they went to their usual café, where she took the postcards from her handbag and placed them in his palms.

“What’s this?” he laughed as he went through each card in turn.  “They’re all blank!”

“Well, I couldn’t send them to you!  So I waited until I could put them in your hand and tell you what I wanted them to say.”

He laid them out on the table and began to count.

“There are 24” she cut in “One for each hour of every day that I missed you.  That’s all I wanted to say.”

For sale in BradshawsEmporium http://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/180174282/collection-of-24-vintage-postcards-isle?ref=shop_home_active_2

Find more of Sarah's short stories in 'Athene and Other Stories' for sale as an Amazon Kindle download -

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Athene-Other-Stories-Miller-Walters-ebook/dp/B00HF8Z3AC/ref=la_B00DZPX09U_1_3/279-8122884-2884619?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1394192569&sr=1-3