Do we share the same surname? by Charlotte Fitch
To celebrate National Story Telling week from 27th of January until 3rd of February, I decided to invite different writers to share their stories on Mina's Planet. I picked three writers, all different and unique in their own way.
The first story is written by Charlotte Fitch. She is currently studying for an MA in Creative Writing at Edge Hill University. She writes about ordinary events and happenings, often using memory as a starting point to write fiction.
Do we share the same surname?
The receptionist at the hairdressers was polite, if not perfunctory. Edith had made a mistake, again. “Your appointment was yesterday, Thursday at 3 O’clock.” Edith looked bemused but quickly replied “Oh, silly me, I thought it was today”. There was nothing for it but to leave the salon and come back next week. Crossing the road, Edith walked down the High Street, passed the Church where her daughter had got married. “This forgetfulness was just one of those things” she thought to herself as she smiled at the memory of all the onlookers who had gawped at the happy couple. The bus stop was an ideal vantage point for uninvited guests. Edith decided that she wouldn’t bother her daughter with her missed hair appointment, instead she would ask the Doctor about it. He would be able to reassure her and say “it was nothing to worry about. At her age, she was bound to forget the odd thing”.
She would walk to the surgery. Walking past the Estate Agents, she saw a photograph of what looked like her bungalow with its beautifully coiffured garden and manicured lawn. Her husband took great pride in his lawn. Perhaps they should plant a few more roses, she would tell him when she got home. How they would laugh at their house being in the Estate Agent’s window. She didn’t recognise the woman whose reflection gazed at her. A woman in her 80s with dishevelled hair, it’s once dark hue, grey and dull, eyes which had been so bewitching set amidst dark brows now looked back without emotion.
She thought that as it was a bit of a walk to the surgery, she would have some chocolate to sustain her. She hadn’t remembered the wool shop being where the shop which sold sweets should be. No matter, she would carry on down the High Street and go to Woolworths. There would be something to take her fancy on the pick ‘n mix counter. Edith began to wish that she hadn’t worn her heels as her feet were beginning to ache. She turned left at the next corner, thinking that the shop she was looking for would be on this street.
“What a beautiful garden to sit in” she thought. The park bench looked inviting. “A few minutes resting her eyes and she would be fine”, she said to herself. Edith thought that if she saw the owner of this beautiful garden she would simply explain that she was walking to the surgery and had got tired. She looked around her. The dahlias, tall and upright showed off their deep rich colours of red and bronze. Orange marigolds adorned the borders.
Edith was found some hours later. An elderly woman asleep on a park bench in her dressing gown and high heel shoes. “Mum, Mum”. Edith roused by the shouting, heard the voice which sounded familiar. She said the only thing which seemed to her, to make sense. “Do we share the same surname?”
Text: Charlotte Fitch ©2018
Photo: Jasmina Haskovic ©2018