Clegg A Strange Encounter

1. Auflage 2024
ISBN: 978-1-80381-830-6
Verlag: Grosvenor House Publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 83 Seiten

A forsaken telephone is heard ringing in the woods and the fact our main character decides to answer it, leads to the question, 'What happens next?' He's of a rather nonconformist disposition and relates the ensuing adventure in a self-deprecating, conversational manner, weaving into his account many of the topics that people in Britain have to currently deal with. Some may find certain views contentious, especially regarding recent medical matters, while others could well applaud, that at last, their very same feelings are appearing in print. The fact the two main characters are unequivocally described as male and female, rather than theys or personages, should give hint of a little satire contained within and also prepare the reader for descriptions of a sensual nature. Those wishing for anything more lurid, however, will be disappointed. Despite latest labyrinthine entanglements on the matter, the stance is taken, men and women often have a tendency to think differently to one another, which might enrage the few who relish the chance to take offence, but hopefully the majority will find the feelings described, plus the honest exchanges, realistic and entertaining. Although there is an obvious autobiographical input, the main characters are both composites, as is the location. From a fairly innocuous start, I doubt the reader will guess what conclusion the tale eventually arrives at. I must admit, with the book seeming to write itself, even I was enthralled and I can't really tell you any more at the moment, as I'd be giving the plot away.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Clegg, John

Leseproben

Chapter Three

Two days on from this, prospects looked bright enough for a walk and so having met at our bridge we walked up to the summit of Barker’s Knoll. Helena wore black leggings and a belted knitwear top, long enough to act as a short skirt. The coat that topped all was of a metallic looking light-weight fabric I didn’t recognise.

I commented on how unusual it seemed and she replied it was waterproof and surprisingly warm. “In fact, I think I’ll have to take it off. Here, feel the texture. No not the outside. Feel the underside.”

She laughed at my look of puzzlement, “It feels like the warmest fur.”

At the summit, the full extent of the breeze buffeted and she spread it out for us to sit on. I had also removed my coat on the ascent and draped it around our shoulders.

“Nice and cosy,” she said snuggling closer. Then with a peel of laughter, “You smell like stew!”

My halting reply, that I shouldn’t have worn my pullover while preparing the previous evening’s meal, seemed to make matters worse and I looked on helplessly while she rocked with laughter.

Once a little calmer I enquired, where exactly had she obtained her strange coat? I sensed a marketing opportunity, but she simply took on that far-away stare I’d noticed on a previous occasion, before suddenly pointing to say, “Look at those shadows. As the clouds sail on, the sun lights up patches like little worlds that weren’t visible before. Look, there’s a pool I hadn’t noticed. Now there’s the silver sparkle from a stream, like a pretty thread of necklace.”

I told her I often watched the changing shapes, like huge white galleons passing overhead and that apparently no two cloud formations are ever exactly the same. I went on to explain that each billowing cumulus held the weight of water equal to that of a massive herd of elephants or a school of blue whales.

“How do they all stay up there?” she asked looking puzzled.

“I really don’t know. I suppose the water vapour rises on the thermals and somehow just stays there until the clouds cool and it starts to rain.”

“Fascinating,” she said gazing upwards. “You know some amazing things.”

“It’s not amazing really. I just take an interest in certain subjects.”

Snuggling closer, she asked with a look of devilment, “So tell me. Which exactly are the elephants and which are the whales?”

Hearing my resigned sigh, she apologised for teasing, then said, pointing again, “Look, there’s a perfect hole straight through that puffy-mountain cloud.”

“Yes, just a fleeting aperture to the sky beyond.”

“When cloud watching, you sometimes wish, don’t you.”

“We all wish, but some more than others. Anyway, wish what exactly?”

Peering up at the unusual formation, she asked, “How often have you seen such a perfect tunnel through the clouds?”

Thinking about it, I said, “Not often. Why?”

“Well I’m guessing you’ve held a secret wish, of wanting to fly like a plane, straight through to the clear blue yonder.”

I remember being so completely stunned, it was to the point of feeling quite vulnerable, for it was as if she could actually see inside my head.

With the cloud pattern slowly shifting, we sat in silence, gazing at the changing colours of the tapestry below and I have to admit, even though having reached a certain level of seniority, it’s still almost impossible to prevent the odd improbable romantic notion from rising to the surface. Perhaps, with men being such poor deluded creatures, there’s no way of helping it. We just happen to be born like it.

Anyway, the remark, “That stewy smell doesn’t seem so strong now,” put paid to any such fantasies and when she added perhaps the breeze had blown it away, I answered with yet another resigned sigh, that no, she had simply got used to it.

Helena did hold my hand on the steepest slopes of the descent, which brought a touch of comfort.

We parted as before on the edge of town and I decided not to pursue her company further. Not immediately, anyway. The last thing I wanted was to create the impression of being a sad old recluse, desperately in need of female company. Besides, her ability at times, to pin-point exactly what I was thinking was quite unnerving. A poor old soul such as I, didn’t want to become a plaything, a figure of fun. No, I would keep my distance.

However, two days later, when the phone rang, I somehow knew it was her and almost dropped the thing, fumbling to answer. Seeing the name Helena beckoning was like a siren’s call, but my finger must have been wet, for attempts to swipe the screen simply left smudges. A final angry stab proved useless and the annoying jingle finally stopped.

I rang her back, “Sorry, Helena, this phone of mine is that annoying I could throw it at the wall sometimes.”

“Have you been running? You sound out of breath.”

Out of breath? My heart was pounding that hard I’m surprised she couldn’t hear it. “Nice of you to ring, Helena. What a pleasant surprise.”

“You mentioned badger watching. I thought it might be nice to venture out this evening.”

I was on the point of suggesting she call round for something to eat first, a light snack, not stew, but then thought it sounded too keen and so said I would call and pick her up.

“But you don’t know where I live.”

“I know, but I would if you told me.”

“No, I’ll tell you what,--- we’ll meet somewhere.”

I suggested the path leading to the woods and said I’d be there at 4.30. The badger sett was actually directly above the old mossed bridge we’d dallied at, but there was no way I wanted her walking there alone.

I made sure I was there ahead of time and stood waiting. It was quite chilly and more like a time to be heading for the warmth of home rather than tramping around in dank woods. A figure did approach, but it was a man walking his dog. It shouldn’t be considered that strange for a person to be standing in the dusk alone, but the dogwalker gave me a suspicious look and when his hound shaped up to give the base of the lamppost a squirt, he hauled it away. The dog looked back at me accusingly.

A light tap on the shoulder made me jump. It was Helena, not emerging from town as expected, but the woods. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and was repeating my concerns about what danger she could be risking wandering out alone at night, when her, “Please don’t make a fuss, darling,” left me open mouthed.

She wore the dark coat as before, black leather boots and on her head was a rather fetching mink-fur hat, completing such a neat package, one could almost imagine plucking her up, for placing on the nearby picnic table for admiration. I remember thinking at the time, not even this perceptive little madam could guess such wild imaginings, but when she glanced up, pretty face framed by dark locks, I swear there was a glint of knowing in the smile she flashed.

We crossed the stream and I led the way up to the badger sett, praying they would appear. I remember thinking at the time, ‘I’ve the good fortune to have in my company, a lady who could turn heads in the theatre, or opera house and what am I doing? Leading her up into a damp muddy tangle.’ I did plod on of course, but each step increased the embarrassment at feeling so clumsily parochial.

There was enough light remaining to find the right vantage spot and on seeing the bin liners I’d brought to sit on, Helena said, “How thoughtful,” before daintily snuggling up beside me. We waited, hunched in the cold. An owl hoot would have been welcome or the rasping yap from a vixen, but no, this wasn’t a film set and we remained there in a yawning silence.

The chill was beginning to get into my bones and as hushed as possible, I blew on my fingers. The moon had risen, its halo heralding a frost and attempting to hurry things on, I opened the tin of cat food I’d brought as a lure and using a twig, deposited the contents in three dollops along the bottom of the banking.

Still we waited and with tension mounting I felt a compulsion to apologise profusely, abandon the venture and hurry Helena back to civilisation, for a bit of warmth in a cosy lounge bar or restaurant.

Suddenly, I felt my sleeve being gripped.

She had seen a nose sniffing the air and we watched as the black and white striped creature emerged from the banking opposite. Soon, other murky shapes followed to start snuffling about.

Whispering, I pointed out the two cubs. They were now almost the size of their parents and although making as if to chase one another, it was only half-hearted and going their separate ways, looked more interested in rooting out food.

Again, I felt my arm being squeezed. The badgers had found the gift I’d left and were noisily guzzling. Once satisfied only the aroma remained, they made their way off into the undergrowth.

Folding up the bin bags, we left the creatures in peace and Helena, allowing me to take her hand, followed as we carefully picked our way back down to the stream.

Standing together on the bridge, I expected a teasing comment, such as, “Well! You certainly know how to show a girl a good time,” but no, she said, “That was quite magical, thank you.”

“Back in May, there were three cubs, but one must have been run over or simply starved to death.”

“What do they eat?”

“Any small creature they chance upon, but spend most of their time digging up earthworms.”

“What, big things like that eat worms?”

“I know it seems strange, but they do. Much of their liquid intake comes...