A Winter's Tale

[ilBardo]

Hi guys,

I'm new here, great to be with you all, and I just wanted to share something I'm writing at the moment. Working on some others too, but all in good time. Let me know if you'd like me to carry on. So without further ado...

A Winter’s Tale

Prologue

His breath swirled slowly about in raspy, ethereal wisps as he trudged along the path that took him to the river. This was all so familiar. Why had he come back here? As he walked, leaves the colour of burnished copper crunched underfoot, his boots slipping ever so slightly on the ice that covered the frozen earth in a pale crystalline blanket. The smell of wood smoke drifted down the musty lane, and as he reached the kissing gate, the frail sunlight glinted meekly through the morning air. It was days like these that the English countryside really was at its most beautiful. Growing up, it had become a weekend ritual to take the dogs, two Labradors, down to the meadow for a walk. They swam happily in the summer, but not now the autumn had set in, it was far too cold, and soon the river would ice over along its banks.

But, with the passing of time, the dogs had now become just one, and he had grown older. He was now a man, and in his heart he had hoped that coming back to the scene of his happy childhood would bring him the peace and happiness he craved. As his dog sniffed along the hedgerow, he lifted his gaze to follow the tree line that rose to the top of the hill. Perched quietly on the crest, there stood the same old houses that had been there all those years before, as if frozen in time. It had been eight years, perhaps not long enough for things to change around here. This was, after all, just a sleepy village in the Hampshire countryside. Excitement in these parts usually constituted of village gossip, often about how roaring drunk the vicar had become during the carol singing just before Christmas. He sighed loudly. He missed those days. Those were the days of innocence, the naivety of youth, where growing up here had just been a wonderfully carefree and joyful existence. But now, it painfully reinforced his sadness that while this place had remained frozen in time, he had not.

He reached out for the gate. The cold metal burned the skin on his hand, and he cursed his stubbornness aloud at refusing to wear gloves. ‘It’s only October’ he had told himself, refusing to acknowledge the inevitable – another cold winter was coming. The gate creaked open, and, guiding his dog through, he nimbly dodged some of the larger icy patches. They were fresh, and perhaps too fresh to bear his weight. After all the heavy rain of the previous month, a hard and unexpected frost had come, transforming the sodden landscape into a frozen patchwork of puddles, streams and frosty grass, the boughs of the trees still laden with their amber and red confetti – still waiting to fall. Conkers lined the floor, some having fallen out of their protective shells, others still green and spiky. It was conker season. Yes, he thought to himself, autumn truly was the best season in which to see the English countryside. Crows squawked overhead as the two figures slowly trampled toward the smell of smoke at the top of the hill.

Checking his watch, he knew it was time to leave. But he could not. This place held so many memories, so many answers. He asked himself the same question. Why? Because you see, to understand the present, and to have no fear of the future, you must always go back to the start.

 

[ilBardo]

Chapter 1​

It was precisely one month before his twenty-second birthday, and Alex was clinging on to his youth. How had time gone so fast? He vividly remembered his twenty-first birthday, and his eighteenth before that. But now, he was on the cusp of being a fully functioning adult, a grown up, and he wasn’t ready. He had graduated University just four months ago, and was already starting back in the world of full time education, opting to convert his degree with a Masters.

It had been a long summer. What with results, various internships and so much to organise before school started, October was upon him and he had barely realised it. The days were shorter – it was dark by six now, and it was certainly chilly enough for a jacket. His main concern now was to find somewhere to live in London, commuting from the countryside was proving far too much hassle.
Still, here he was, on the first day of his course. He stepped out of the station exit, and breathed in the unmistakable air of London’s South Bank. How was it this cold? The sky was pale and bare, cloudless yet grey and the concrete buildings surrounding him did nothing to help. A few pigeons idly walked along the pavement, accustomed to humans. They would wander right up close, and fly away only when you weere almost upon them. He smiled to himself, he would have to get used to that living here.

He kept walking down the steps of the train station, as the throng of people on their way to work fought, jostling and pushing through the crowd. ‘Thank God I don’t have to do that yet’ he muttered to himself, iPod blaring in a vain effort to wake him up. Starbucks had done its job he supposed, still clutching the dregs of his lukewarm cappuccino (it had been three extra shots today) but he would much rather be in bed. To make matters worse, he was nervous. First there had been secondary school, then university, now this. First days were always the worst. He hated himself for being shy. Why couldn’t he be that person who could just go up to everybody and be immediately at ease with them? He hated small talk more than anything. He sighed and kept walking, lost in thought.

He checked his jacket was done up for the ninth time that morning. What was it they say? ‘First impressions are paramount’ and all that. He was fashionable, well dressed even, he knew that. But today had been an extra special effort. He had to look good for his first day. He had gone understated; chinos, t-shirt and baseball jacket. Suddenly a chilly breeze picked up, funnelling down the small street he had now turned onto, ruffling up his dark blond hair. Was it blond? Or was it brown? He never knew – he’d heard ‘dirty blond’ and ‘dishwater blond’ before, not that it really mattered.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Stopping beside a bench, he sat down and took a quick sip of his coffee and he pressed the answer button and put it to his ear.

“Why can’t any barista make coffee anymore? Seriously, if they don’t burn the milk they burn the coffee” Alex said briskly, and waited as he listened to her reply. “Emily, I was up at six thirty today. Coffee will be the only thing that can keep me going through this.” He explained. “Huh? Yeah I’m coming in now. I’m about a minute away. What? Yeah, I’ll see you there.” He ended the call and pocketed his phone.

Emily was a friend from school, who by chance was studying at the same University as he was now. It reassured him that there would be a friendly face in the building when he got there, albeit one who wouldn’t be with him in class. She had promised him that she would send any hot guys she met his way. After having reminded her that he was not that desperate, he also reminded her that the chances that they would be gay were very slim. He had resigned himself to that, the fact that attractive, normal gay guys didn’t exist. But then, nobody he met knew he was gay, not unless he told them. Why would it be so unfathomable that there could be someone else like him around? Whatever, he thought, as he got up and walked the rest of the way into college. Experience had shown that they didn’t exist. He was sure that he would never meet someone he liked.

“Maybe your standards are too high” Emily remarked as they sat in the cafe.

“Well, they are high. I only like guys who you wouldn’t know are gay unless they told you. And how do I find them? I can’t, that’s the problem. Gay bars are full of camp queens, and the rest are straight, according to statistics. So where does that leave me?” Alex replied, leaning back on his chair, as he all but inhaled his coffee.

“Firstly, give me that” Emily said as she dragged Alex’s coffee away from him. “Waaayyyyy too much caffeine buddy. And secondly, you know what your problem is? You’re homophobic. You don’t like gay people, yet you’re attracted to men.”

“Yeah exactly, gay men who are, well, at least apart from the fact that they have sex with men, straight.”

“How’s that going to work? That’s crazy.” Emily replied.

“It probably won’t. But hey, if all else fails, I can go to gay bars, sing Lady Gaga and get with guys more feminine than you. Anyway, I’ve got to run, my lecture starts soon.”

“Cool, well I’ll see you at lunch?” Emily asked.

“If I’m not so bored with these lectures that I actually die, sure.” He said as he picked up his bag and turned to walk away.

Another day, more defence-mechanism sarcasm, thought Emily.

 

[Autolycus]

Welcome to JUB and our story board - new contributors are always welcome here!

A great start to a story - looking forward to your continuation.

 

[ilBardo]

Thanks, Autocylus. Here's part 3, if anyone is actually interested

Chapter 2

Two Years Earlier​

Rain was lashing against the shutters, drumming heavily on the cobbled streets below, thick drops of water bouncing, dancing as they hit the already vanquished earth. The city had never seen rain like this. The locals were talking of nothing else; after all, it was not often a season’s rainfall fell in just a few days. Alex sat by his window, sipping gently on some tea, watching the street outside as he often liked to do. He watched as an old lady opened a door slowly, stood outside her shop, and, staring intently up at the threatening sky, cursed under her breath at the weather. After she had thrown a bucket of dirty water onto the pavement, she hastily locked up the door, hunched over in her raincoat, and shuffled off around the dimly lit street, the streetlamps flickering through the dark night.

Somewhere, a gentle roar of laughter was emanating from the blackness. Probably the bar down the road, Alex thought to himself. Nothing, not even this rain could dampen the spirits of these people, not now. Taking out his pen, he quickly jotted down the scene in his journal and then wrapped the blanket around his shoulders tightly – for the gaps in his old windows were letting in a draught. He hadn’t done much that day, other than taking a walk around the old town with some friends, stopping for a coffee in a Pasticceria that afternoon. The pink marbled streets of Via Mazzini were slick with rain, as people dashed around getting on with their day. There only seemed to be one thing on their minds; how was it still raining, and when would it stop? What had they done to deserve this?

Up in the hills, it had been far worse. Luckily, the vineyards had all been harvested, but still crops had to be protected. This was agricultural land; such torrential downpours were potentially dangerous. He had been in Italy for nearly two months, and in that time late summer had merged rather swiftly into autumn, and long gone were the days of sitting in the square in shorts. Instead of long, relaxed evening walks about town, it required a hasty shuffle beneath an umbrella to get anywhere. Still, it made the ground fertile. Soon it would be November, and with that the first signs of winter, one he knew would be a harsh one. He had rented this apartment in August, and in his naivety, had failed to realise that the tiled floors and draughty windows would do precious little to keep him warm when the northern Italian winter inevitably came.

Rising from his chair, he slipped on his shoes, and put on his coat. Great, he thought, another night of being alone. Enough wine would soon cure that. He strode across the lounge, and out into the rain.

Crossing the bridge, he stopped briefly to look at the river. The churning waters of the Adige gurgled and spat beneath him as the risen waters hit the bridge. Squinting through the night, eyes heavy with rain, he could make out the glimmering lights on the hill, along with a luminous mosaic of colour lining the banks, their reflections dancing on the surface of the water. He never tired of this view. Alex brushed the water from his eyes, put his head down, and marched on into the night.

By the time he reached his destination, his trousers had begun to stick to his leg; an umbrella and raincoat could do little in this weather. Pushing the door of the Osteria open, the warmth hit him like a shot of whisky, warming him to the core. He could see all his friends gathered around the table, many empty glasses already.

“Alex! You’re late, where’ve you been?” Shouted James, which prompted jeering echoes of agreement.

“Sorry, took me ages to get ready, really couldn’t face the rain.” He replied.

“Oh, is it raining?” Laura asked.

“Very funny” retorted Alex, took off his coat and sat down. “So who are that lot?” He said, nodding in the direction of a group of young people crowding the bar.

“Americans, foreign students apparently. Helen spoke to a few earlier.” Laura said, having taken a big sip of wine.

“Well, they might liven things up here a bit” Alex commented, his eyes settling on just one person. Truth is, he had met them all a few nights before. If only he had seen the warning signs back then.

All of a sudden, he was back there again, with him, with Jack. He shouldn’t have been. Jack was in a relationship. Yet Jack wanted him, and he had fought so hard with his conscience to resist. He had tried. He hadn’t bought any of Jack’s existentialist bullshit, leave that to Sartre, he had said. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. But Alex was lonely, and he was tired of resisting. Jack had stayed that evening, stayed too long, and now they were down an alley, stood close enough to touch, rain dripping down their faces. He remembered his heart beating, his head spinning, the cold wall behind him as he leant back against it – and then nothing but cold, cold guilt and the constant drumming of the rain.

 

[rocabar]

Wow... Y'all have me hooked!

 

[Craiger]

Welcome, IlBardo,
What a well written beginning. Your descriptive writing has me feeling as if I were walking beside Alex and experiencing the cold and the rain with him. Being the beginning of Autumn now, what an appropriate story. I look forward to more.

Craiger

 

[ilBardo]

Thanks, guys. Criager, that was my intention, to create a seasonal story that evoked the seasons and landscape over here in England. It is rather a complex story I fear, with various points of view and time shifts. The time shifts are necessary to understand the characters more deeply. I appreciate that this may not be for everyone, but I hope to tie it all together eventually. Here is Chapter 3.

Chapter​

3

Dawn rose over the city like a swansong, complete with a burning orange orb, the last glimmers of a fading summer. A collective fog of misty breath hung about over the historic streets of London. The sleepy skyline was broken by gentle puffs of smoke twirling up from the occasional chimney. Boats tugged and hummed up the murky waters of the Thames. Newspaper sellers lined street corners, their eyes still heavy with sleep. At the apex of London Bridge, a lone figure stood still. The tide of commuters surged past him as he stood and gazed out into the expanse. Tracing his eyes along the bank of the river, he marvelled at the sheer scale of it all. The London Eye stood stark against the October sky, the fragile sunlight starting to pierce through the remnants of the dawn.

Joshua had only been in England for a week. He had opted to study abroad this year, and already felt the pangs of self doubt that had become a normal part of his day. Back in Yale, the semester would be starting, all his friends would be back at school and he missed them greatly. Be brave, he told himself, this is a fantastic opportunity. Besides, who wouldn’t want to spend a year in London? To a twenty year old, it was one of the best cities on earth.

He had settled in fine, the people were friendly enough. He wouldn’t describe himself as shy, but he still took a while to feel at ease amongst new people. His room was nice enough, he didn’t have to share it, and he had a few weeks before class started. Life was good. Or at least, he tried to persuade himself it was.
He missed his family, his friends, and most of all, he missed home. It would soon be Fall back home, his friends would be going to on their annual ski trip without him, and he smiled gently at the thought of the first frosts, the carpet of leaves that would soon line the avenue. What day was it now anyway? Saturday? He heart ached at the thought. He could be walking around Quincy Market right now, or playing with his dogs. His parents had called frequently, or at least his mom had anyway, encouraging him to go out and meet some nice girl who could show him the city. His parents had always been keen for him to meet a nice girl. Probably just so his father could add to his political dynasty.

Walking along the Embankment, he continued to marvel at the scale of the city and the sheer number of people milling around. Businessmen in suits bustled around, big red buses swinging up side streets, black cabs pulling in and out. So they do exist, he thought with a smirk. At least it wasn’t raining, and doesn’t it always rain in England? Turning around to face the other side of the bridge, the imposing silhouette of the Houses of Parliament dominated the scene. Joshua shook his head slightly, and started walking. He had an appointment to get to. Well, it wasn’t exactly an appointment, but it sure felt like one. Breakfast with some distant cousin, or was it his Aunt? He didn’t know. He had been told to seek her out as soon as he reached London by his father. His stomach growled in rebellion. ‘Ok, Ok I get it, I’m going’ he muttered under his breath as he wandered along to reach the tube at Embankment.

_________________*___________________________________*_____________________

5 Upper Montagu Street was an imposing building. A Georgian terrace, bordering on Neo-Palladian, it rose symmetrically up from the paved stones of the street below. Three pale steps climbed up to a bright red door, guarded by cast iron railings. Reaching for the bell, the door swept open. Stood before him was a middle aged man in his late forties, Josh supposed, clad in a black suit, his crisp white shirt topped with a bow tie.

“Master Joshua, is it? Please, come in, your aunt Martha is expecting you.” He said in a rather stiff yet welcoming manner, as he gestured for Josh to enter. “May I take your coat?” he added. “Huh? Oh, yes, thank you very much” Josh added as he removed his coat and handed it to the butler. “Please, follow me sir, this way” added the man as he strode off down the hall.

It was certainly an impressive place. Rich wood panelling lined the hall, and a large teak table stood in the middle. Oak floorboards creaked under foot as he edged along. Lining the walls were large oil paintings of various figures and dignitaries, none of whom he recognised, all bordered by bronze and gold gilding. A few lamps oozed soft light into the otherwise dingy hall. The slight musty smell of old wood and dank only added to the homeliness of the scene. A coat rack at the end of the hall now hung his navy Harrington jacket, perched next to various dark green waxed jackets. Beneath these, stood a number of Wellington boots, umbrellas and copper pots.

As he neared the end of the seemingly never-ending hall, he was awoken from this reverie by the Butler holding a heavy wooden door open and gesturing inside. He nodded to Joshua, who returned his gaze rather nervously. He had no recollection of ever meeting this distant relation of his, although she had visited Boston many times in his youth, but now her health prevented her from making the journey. His insides churned.

With a deep breath, he strode as confidently as he could into the morning room. A blast of warmth greeted him, along with the soft crackle of logs as they burnt and spat in the fire. A large marble fireplace stood at the far end of the room, a large Stag’s head above it. To his left, large sash windows that overlooked the street let the October sunlight flood into the room. Two large crimson Chesterfield sofas sat in the centre of the room, facing each other, with a large rosewood table between them. The dark navy carpet creaked beneath his footsteps.

“Please Master Joshua; take a seat, your Aunt Martha will be right in. I shall return with refreshments” he said, and swept from the room. Joshua felt his heart racing as he settled rather uncomfortably into the nearest of the two sofas. What would she look like? Would he remember her voice? Breathe, he reminded himself. Breathe, and be polite. She was family after all, and he barely knew anyone in London.

He did not have long to wait. For a woman of some sixty-odd years, his Aunt Martha marched into the room with all the grace and purpose of a woman half her age. She closed the door behind her, with a soft click. Joshua stood up immediately, and took in her appearance rapidly. Her grey-streaked hair was tied up behind her head in a neat bun, and despite her rather wrinkle lined face, he found a pair of soft blue eyes. She wore a long floor length skirt, pale blouse, and green tweed jacket, with a necktie fastened loosely. She had been beautiful in her youth, he supposed. Not that he remembered.

“Joshua! How delightful to see you! It has been years since I saw you last. How on earth are you my dear? But, where are my manners, you must be ravenous. Cooper!” she shouted, and the butler bustled into the room with a trolley full of various cakes, tea pots and china cups. “Ah, there you are. Thank you. You may place them there, on the table.” She gestured towards the delicate table in front of them. “Would you like some tea my dear? I’m afraid it’s Darjeeling; I don’t suppose you would like Earl Grey. Do you drink much tea?”

“Um, No, No I don’t I’m afraid. I do like it though.” He attempted a smile to mask his nervousness. Just get through it, he thought, and you can go and explore the city at your leisure. “Now, before we discuss all that has happened since I saw you last” his aunt said, “I would like you to come for dinner this Friday. Your cousin Emily is coming, along with some others whom I feel you would both like and benefit from their friendship.” Leaning back in the sofa, she gently sipped on her tea.

“I would be delighted to Aunt Martha; I don’t have any plans for this Friday. What time would you like me to arrive?”

“I shall arrange for you to be collected at seven. We shall dine at eight. I shall, of course, ask Cooper to make up the guest bedroom for you should you prefer to stay for the night.”

“That would be, well, very kind of you, thank you.” Joshua sipped on his tea, recoiling from the blistering heat of the liquid. Aunt Martha chuckled at the sight.

“I must apologise, Joshua. We English drink our tea rather hot! Now, where were we? You must tell me about yourself; it has been years since I saw my favourite nephew.”

 

[ilBardo]

Will try and have the next chapter up by tomorrow.

 

[Craiger]

I want an Aunt like Martha and a house like hers...lol I could learn to drink tea as well. This is an intriguing story. And again, your descriptions of the early London morning brought back memories that have been pushed back in my mind for some years. I like the feeling of reliving those memories.

Craiger

 

[ilBardo]

Chapter 4

“Of course, wasn’t so long ago that you yanks were rebelling against us, I dare say you think we were the oppressors.”

“My dear Professor, let us not dwell on the intricacies of past diplomacy, especially as we have one such yank amongst us tonight.”

“You must accept my apologies if I caused offence, young man. I am merely sporting with you. Martha, my compliments on some excellent grouse, you must come shooting with me on the estate up in the Highlands this season.” The Professor was a portly man, clad in his favourite three piece grey woollen suit; spectacles perched studiously on his elongated nose.

“Michael, you and I have been friends for the best part of three decades, you have invited me to come and shoot for the majority of them, and I remind you every season that it is something I would never consider partaking in for even a moment.” Martha leaned back in her chair at the head of the table, having taken a sip of her wine.

The dinner party had been pleasant, Joshua thought. He had never eaten such fine food, or in such a fine dining room. Cooper had waited on them intently; the courses were plentiful, and the silver cutlery had been burnished to a shine. Another fire was gently crackling in the hearth. The guests had been just as he had expected. His aunt Martha was there of course, along with the Professor, who taught at Oxford, another elderly and friendly couple, and his long lost cousin Emily. He had no recollection of her, save from a few photos back home. She had grown, of course, since then. Now she was an undoubtedly beautiful young girl, with shoulder length blonde hair, delicate green eyes, and pale skin that blushed in the soft candle light. Joshua doubted she would have any trouble attracting male attention.

He had struggled at first to keep up with conversation, but soon relaxed into a contented state of comfort once his appetite had been sated. It had been nice to catch up with his Aunt, who had wasted no time in inviting him for weekly afternoon tea. The professor had vowed to help him get in with the ‘right sort’ in town and told him that he was always available, should Joshua need any academic advice. It had been Emily who most intrigued him. She had a way of talking that immediately put everyone at ease, and seemed to intuitively read your thoughts. As the meal had gone on, Joshua noticed Emily looking at him in a peculiar manner, rather quizzically, as if she were boring into his soul.

He was awoken from his daydreaming by a loud roar of laughter from the Professor. “Martha, your cellar continues to astound me. La Tâche with the grouse? And now you spoil us with a first growth? I shall be disappointed if we are not drowning in Yquem with dessert. Speaking of dessert, what are we having anyway? If you will forgive me, I have taken the liberty of bringing some Cubans for after dinner.”

“Of course you shall, and as you well know, I have never once refused. Although, I would ask you to try your utmost not to corrupt my nephew with your tobacco” replied Martha, somewhat sternly, looking at Joshua.

“Oh, that’s okay Aunt Martha. It wouldn’t be the first time. Dad likes to smoke after dinner anyway.” Josh inwardly chided himself at the mention of his father.

“And how is your father, Joshua? Still pursuing the Presidency? Or has he done something more sensible with his life?” asked Martha with a suppressed smirk.

“Well, he’s running for Senator now, but Mom is adamant he should leave politics altogether.”

“You must have been glad to leave all that behind” Emily said.

“Well, I do miss home, but I have to admit it is nice to be away from the Mackenzie dynasty for a while” replied Joshua, startled by the insightful observation of his cousin.

“And have you left a girlfriend behind?” Emily added quickly. Joshua felt himself redden. He reached all too rapidly for his claret, taking a large gulp to calm his squirming insides.

“Emily, we should not be asking such personal questions over a fillet of beef.” Aunt Martha had rescued him, though Joshua.

“I agree, Martha. That is a conversation for brandy and amongst men, young lady.” The professor had not dozed off, it seemed. Whether his misogyny was meant however, was altogether less clear. Joshua, clasping his hands tightly under the table, was decidedly uncomfortable. That wasn’t just a conversation for men, he thought. That was a conversation he never wanted. Not again. He had spent the last five years being pushed toward various girls, well connected ones, pretty ones. But he had refused to become a mere pawn in his father’s dynastic game of chess. Joshua would not do as he asked. He would marry for love, of that he was sure.

--------------------------*-------------------------------------------------*------------------------------------------

As he stepped out into the street, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease that had been with him for most of the evening. Despite the fiery glow of brandy that burned in his stomach, he shivered violently as he paced along the street. Turning to face the house, he could have sworn he saw a silhouette disappear suddenly behind the curtains on the first floor. Picking up his pace, he made his way to the corner. His breath was visible, stark and white in the night air. It had been a cold day, crisp and clear. His mind drifted back to home, and the winters he had seen as a child. The first snows would be falling in the mountains. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his thick head, thick with wine and guilt. Just as he was about to hail a cab, a shout rang out in the dark.

“Joshua!”

Turning around, Josh saw Emily hurrying up the street with her heavy trench coat wrapped tightly around her.

“Cold isn’t it?” she asked in a casual tone. Where had she come from?

“What? Yes, I suppose it is.”

“I didn’t know you’d left.”

“Well, I’d had three brandies with the professor; I figured that was enough for one night.”

“Where are you going?” asked Emily.

“Home.”

“And where is home?” A long way from here, thought Joshua.

“Not far from here” He replied.

“Good, me neither. Let’s get a cab.”​

[/RIGHT]​

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​

 

[ilBardo]

Chapter 5​

“So how was dinner?” Alex asked, without looking up from the newspaper.

“It was good.” Emily replied nonchalantly. They were both sat in Alex’s flat, at the kitchen table, pot of now cold tea perched delicately between a pile of books, paper, pens and newspapers. It was a rather odd looking room, with a muddle of an interior, but it was homely. The radio was on, purely for background noise. Alex occasionally reached out for his toast, never once looking at the plate, preferring instead to fumble around blindly until he found it. Emily looked on in annoyance, as usual.

“Just ‘good’? No scandals this time? Not even undercooked pork?”

“Funny. And I don’t want to distract you from your reading.” At last, Alex looked up, and stared at Emily, in a mock-offended manner. “No, I’m actually interested. It’s always nice to hear about someone with a social life.” He returned his gaze to the pages of the Times.

“You know what they’re like. It’s like stepping back into an Austen novel. Aunt Martha is a fantastic host, the guests are always interesting, and we drink a lot. Oh, and stop moaning. You chose to study this year.”

“I don’t remember signing the ‘you shall never ever leave the house again’ clause” Alex shot back, mouth full of toast, “and you always say her house is nice, some Georgian mansion in Marylebone, right?” Emily nodded in response.

“So who was there this time?” Alex asked, getting up to flick the kettle on again.
“Aunt Martha of course, Professor Logan, some friends of Martha’s, me, and my cousin.”

“Your cousin? I didn’t know you had a cousin.” Alex was reaching for a teabag from the cupboard.

“I have a lot of family that you don’t know about Alex.”

“So what side of your family is this one from?”

“From the American branch this time.”

“Was she nice?”

“He was. Yes.” Emily watched Alex closely as he fumbled for the teabags. “Need a hand?”

“I got it. So why was your cousin there?”

“He’s here for the year, studying. Joshua. He’s intriguing.”

Alex sat down, and looked intently at Emily. “Intriguing?”

“Not what I expected. He comes from a very old family, from Boston. Dad’s a politician, Republican. You know the type – polite, stiff, and very guarded.” She took a sip of her tea. She reflected for a moment on her cousin. He was handsome, there was no doubting that. He was tall, athletically built, with a gentle face, ice-blue eyes, and a mop of ruffled blond hair. If he wasn’t her cousin, she was sure he might have found him attractive. He was shy, obviously sensitive. She smiled to herself. She had always been good about reading people. But something, something about this guy she just couldn’t work out. There was something there that hid inside Joshua. She had determined to find out.

“Emily, are you still there?” Alex was looking at her, with eyebrows raised.

“Sorry. I just drifted off there. Anyway, go and get dressed, we’ve got to go in for eleven” Emily said with forced authority. Alex looked less than keen.

He sighed loudly. “Fine. I’ll be five minutes.” More like twenty, Emily thought to herself. “Is Matt in?” She added, while Alex walked away.

“He left for a work a while ago, why?”

“No reason.” Emily said. But there was. She wanted to talk to him, mainly about Alex, but they hadn’t spoken in a while. She would need to soon, she thought.
Twenty minutes later, they strode out of the door. Soon they reached the heath, near stripped boughs of the trees billowing in the blustering breeze. It had been windy all week, and cold. The sky was pale and meek, casting a fragile lustre onto the autumnal landscape. The grey concrete pavement was covered in the carpet of ochre and copper, chestnut leaves interspersed with conkers. September had been wet, and October was cold. Frozen muddy ruts had frozen into hard lumps and ridges. At least it was sunny, thought Alex to himself. The weak sun took some of the deep chill away from his bones.

In the distance he could see the skyline of London, and as the two figures continued their march towards it, Alex braced himself for another day.

 

[Craiger]

Ah, cousin Emily. I think she will be the matchmaker. Good thing she is Joshua's cousin or he may have to fend her off as all the others in his past.

I must plan a trip to London to witness another dinner at Aunt Martha's. However, I will have to go lightly on the wine and brandy... and certainly no cigar.

An enlightening chapter, IlBardo.

Craiger

 

[ilBardo]

Thanks for the feedback, Craiger. You seem to be the only one interested!

As for you theory about Emily, I fear that it may not all be so straightforward. There are things about all of the characters that will affect their ability to form human relationships...

ilBardo

 

[Craiger]

Thanks for the feedback, Craiger. You seem to be the only one interested!

As for you theory about Emily, I fear that it may not all be so straightforward. There are things about all of the characters that will affect their ability to form human relationships...

ilBardo

Oh, IlBardo, I'm sure there are many more interested, it's just that many don't post as much.

It's also more intriguing when there more twists and turns. However, I think there are differences in in all of us that affect our abilities in forming human relationships. That's what make us so unique. Love the story.

Craiger

 

[HaydenLogan]

you got many silent fans just keep going its looking really good

 

[ilBardo]

Thanks for the comments guys. I'm a little busy with some studying at the moment, but I'll try to get as much up as soon as I can!

ilBardo

 

[TheFireGod]

Very well written with your attention to details.

Hope to see more.

 

[ilBardo]

Chapter 6​

“Why is it so cold today?”

“It’s not that cold Alex. Come on, let’s go to the pub.”

Matt was not usually the first one to suggest skipping lectures. Alex shrugged in agreement. It had been a while since he really expressed an interest in anything. As they walked, Matt felt a sadness in his heart – his best friend was suffering and there was simply nothing he could do. He looked across at Alex, who trudged along, pulling his jacket more tightly around him. A chilly breeze whipped up the street, a few leaves fluttering up into the air, and then falling like butterflies with sore feet.

“It’s freezing! What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Alex looked at Matt, wondering why he was being studied so intently. Matt shrugged and looked down. “It’s nothing. Just thinking about those times back at Uni.”

“Yeah, well, that’s all changed now, hasn’t it? You’re a proper grown up. You’ve got a job and everything. And I’m studying something I hate.”

“Is that what’s bothering you? Is it your course?” Matt asked, gently.

“What do you mean, bothering me?”

“You haven’t exactly been that cheerful these past few weeks.” He paused. “I would have thought you’d be happy, living in London, a new start. And besides, you don’t have to work full time...” Matt added, carefully ending on a light-hearted note to try and coax Alex into opening up. Not that it usually worked.

He had never met such a private person in his whole life, yet, he had also never met such a loyal, brilliant friend. If only Alex would let people in, let others see what was going on inside. He could be so joyous, so intoxicating; his charisma had been known to captivate the entire room simply by his presence. And then there was his sense of humour, Matt mused, smiling as he looked at Alex, who was the funniest person he knew.

“I guess. Maybe it’s just not what I expected. I’m sure it’ll improve once I get to know some people” Alex said with false confidence, even though on the inside he doubted this very much.

“I’m sure it will, just give it time.” Matt stopped abruptly, and turning sharply, stood facing Alex, with both hands on his shoulders. “You’re young; you’re a student, in one of the greatest cities on earth. What could possibly not be absolutely bloody brilliant about that?” Matt stood grinning at Alex, and only had to wait a few seconds before his best friend looked up, struggling to suppress a grin of his own, before shaking his head.


“Prick.”
Matt laughed loudly as Alex strode past him. That was better.

_________________*___________________________________*___________

A few miles to the northwest, Joshua was deep in thought. The University library was a cavernous, overbearing building, continually shrouded in a stifled hush, as numerous students shuffled here and there, the silence occasionally punctured by the scraping of a chair, or the soft thump of a heavy book being placed onto the thick wooden desks. Individual lamps spewed out a fuzzy glow from behind their partially concealed booths.

His head hurt. He had been reading some French philosophy for over two hours now, and none of it was even coming within a chance of being remembered. With a frustrated thud, he closed Rousseau and sat back in his chair. He sighed loudly. Why had he studied politics? He hated it. But then, his father knew most of the board at Yale, and as he was so frequently reminded, his father had studied Politics there. He rubbed at his temples gently, brushing his hair off of his forehead. He was just drifting off into a daydream when his phone vibrated gently on his desk. Momentarily awoken, he opened the message. He was at first rather perplexed, but then smiled gently. Within a couple of minutes, Joshua was all packed up and strode toward the exit.

The cold air hit him hard as he stepped out onto the pavement. It was nearing dusk, and the pale winter sun was starting its gradual descent into the dark obscurity of the horizon, steadily plunging the ancient streets into a black slumber. A chilly wind whipped around the square, as commuters hurried home. He watched as a mother chided her daughter gently as they made their way home. The door of a Starbucks opened briefly, and the sound of gentle clinking drifted idly through the icy air. Wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck, he slowly made his way toward the river, taking in the breathtaking view of an autumnal evening at dusk.

_____________________*_______________________________*____________________

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Well, I mean, because I have SO many friends in this city.....”

“So you came out of desperation?”

“No, that came out wrong, of course not. I just meant that I don’t have any other friends I could be hanging out with, and besides, you’re my cousin. Thanks for inviting me.” Joshua took another sip of his drink, and grimaced slightly. He hoped Emily wouldn’t notice, but she evidently had, as she laughed and shook her head. “What is this stuff anyway?” he asked.

“That’s proper beer, real ale. It’s called IPA.”

“What’s IPA?”

“IPA stands for ‘India Pale Ale’. It’s an interesting story actually.”

“Yeah?” Joshua smiled at his cousin. He was enjoying himself.

“Well, back in the eighteenth century, England ruled in India. We had hundreds of aristocrats, politicians and the like over there. Not to mention thousands of troops governing our empire. Anyway, there was this company called the East India Trading Company. You can pretty much guess what they did. So, some enterprising traders for this company saw that our English soldiers needed English beer out in India. So working with the brewers over here, they developed this, a pale, malty beer that can cope with being strapped in barrels on the side of a ship all the way to India.”

“Really? You mean to tell me that English soldiers in India drank beer exactly like this, centuries ago?” Joshua held up his glass, fascinated, peering into the amber liquid, its malty froth perched on top.

“Absolutely. When you’ve finished that, you’re having a glass of Madeira. It’s wine-based, but it shares similar characteristics, in that it’s very resistant to changes in temperature.” Emily got up and walked towards the bar. Joshua couldn’t stop smiling; Emily was so easy to get on with. He only wished that she didn’t live in England, he knew he would miss her when the time came to return home. But then he had promised himself he would leave with no sadness, no ties, and no regrets. This was a temporary thing, he reminded himself.

Glancing around the room, he marvelled at how far he had come. He certainly had never been anywhere like this. It was a cave – he was sat in a cave. Tiny tables were hidden beneath a curving vaulted ceiling, dim candles flickering in the darkness, barely illuminating the faces of those sat at the barrels used as extra tables.

“It’s a cavern.” Emily had returned with drinks.

“How did you know what I was thinking?” asked Joshua, he was a little unnerved – she could read his thoughts now?

“It’s one of the oldest wine bars in the country, and the oldest in the city. Imagine, centuries ago, ordinary people, just like you and I, sat here as they discussed their business. They ate, drank, gossiped, and in some cases plotted.” Emily said, before taking a sip from a narrow glass full of dark brown liquid.

“Plotted?” Joshua was intrigued.

“Josh, please tell me you’ve heard of Guy Fawkes?” asked Emily. Joshua shook his head.

“Guy Fawkes...the rebel who tried to blow up Parliament? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

“I’m sorry. We didn’t do a lot of British history at school.”

“Then I have a lot to teach you. That reminds me actually. I’m having a few friends down to the country for Guy Fawkes Night, there’ll be fireworks and...Oh, sorry, it’s on the fifth of November...fireworks and a bonfire. It’s traditional. There, she thought, she was already inviting him to social gatherings; he would soon have lots of new friends. She grimaced inside at the thought of her female friends throwing themselves at Josh. She would have to warn them beforehand that he was off limits. He was family, after all.

“I’d love to come. You sure I wouldn’t be imposing?” asked Joshua.

“Not at all, we do it every year. It’ll be a nice glimpse of some age-old English traditions. And besides, the English countryside is stunning in early November. Oh Christ! I nearly forgot! I need to plan something for Halloween too! It’s my best friend’s birthday around then! I’m such an idiot!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll plan something” Joshua added, before cringing inside. He was already planning social events with his cousin! Slow down Joshua, he thought. After all, he had only just got to know her. Reaching for the glass in front of him, he took a tentative sip. In that instant, as the sweet liquid hit the back of his throat, he knew he was in for a long night.

 

[Craiger]

I'm thinking Joshua is going to know quite a bit of English history and "traditions" soon. I like Emily. She has a clever and, at the same time, wicked little sense of setting you at ease. Joshua, being the newcomer, helps bring out that sauciness. Poor Alex seems so conflicted but hopefully will soon come out of his shell. I'm really enjoying this "Winter's Tale."

Craiger

 

[rocabar]

I love this story ilBardo... Pls. keep it up!