Shortbread

Marie beat the butter and sugar together until it turned almost white. She whisked two eggs in a cup, poured them into the centre and beat in the yolks. Next, she tipped the flour into the scales and sieved it into the bowl. It fell in soft flurries onto the white creamy mixture, which she folded in. Vanilla essence! She knew she had forgotten something.
She opened the cupboard, hoping there was a bottle there. Aha! There it was, behind the icing sugar. Marie whipped it out and tapped a couple of drops into the bowl. Slowly stirring so as not to knock any of the air out, she mixed in the essence. When she was satisfied she scooped out the cake mix and slopped it carefully into the greased circular baking tins.
Sliding them onto the shelves of the oven Marie admired the brand new oven gloves she’d bought herself. They were exactly the right colour to go with the oven. Scarlet red. Coincidentally, they also matched her shoes and nail polish.
Marie liked red. It was vibrant and provocative and it matched her auburn hair. She closed the door and turned to face the window. Ah, there was Helena walking up the path. She was just in time, as always. Marie removed her apron and draped it over a kitchen chair carelessly. It slid off and dropped to the floor. She didn’t notice it. She was too intent on getting to the door to be a good hostess.
Marie opened the door exactly 5 seconds after Helena knocked on it. She knew that she should never keep Helena waiting. It would be bad manners.
The women greeted one another in warm, polite tones and commented on the weather, a brisk but sunny day.
Marie showed Helena through to the living room where Geoff was sat in his chair with his hat over his eyes. Marie put her finger to her lips and pointed to Geoff. ‘He’s sleeping.’ She mouthed grinning. Helena grinned back and sat down on the red velvet sofa.
Marie went to hang up Helena’s coat and re-boil the kettle. She checked on her cakes, rising nicely, through the oven window. Lovely. She took the biscuit tin from under the counter and placed three shop bought biscuits and three of her special shortbread on a plate. Next she made up the tea which she whisked through to the living room for Helena.
"Ah those biscuits look lovely as ever, Marie," said Helena, always eager to be gracious to her hostess.
"Thank you," Marie smiled then glanced at the sleeping Geoff. "I baked them this morning. I hope you’ll enjoy them." She offered the plate to Helena who picked the largest biscuit of the three. She bit into it and was surprised at what she tasted.
"You’ve changed the recipe!" She exclaimed a little too loudly. Marie hushed her.
"He had one of his blackouts last night," she nodded to Geoff. "But yes, I put raspberries in it for a change. I’m sure it’ll be just as nice as my old shortbread once I perfect the recipe. Too many raspberries do you think? I had quite a few left over from some jam I made."
"Perhaps a few," Helena agreed. "They take over the flavour of the shortbread quite a lot."
Marie smiled. She knew Helena would be honest. She was disappointed that she hadn’t been more honest before now.
Marie poured two cups of tea and passed one to Helena, who added sugar and milk to hers.
"Do you think he’ll wake up any time soon?" Helena hissed.
Marie shook her head. "He won’t be awake for ages. He took some sleeping tablets along with his insulin."
"I’m surprised he didn’t wake up when the doorbell rang," Helena commented.
"It must be the tablets," said Marie biting into a shop bought biscuit. "They are quite strong."
Helena nodded and looked over at Geoff. He had his hands propped up on a pillow, which he was hugging to his stomach. His mouth was slightly open.
She glanced at Marie who was smiling pleasantly at her then looked down at the biscuits.
"Are you not having a shortbread, Marie?" She asked.
"Oh no, I’ve already had two after I took them out of the oven," Marie replied. "You know what they say, a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips."
She glanced down at her shapely hips and laughed softly. She knew that it would never happen to her.
Helena grimaced, aware of her own bulk. "Yes, lucky for some."
Marie got up from her chair. "I’ll just go and check the sponge."
When she had left the room, Helena placed her cup gently on the table beside her and sat the biscuit next to it. She crept over to where Geoff was.
"Helena?" Marie called from the kitchen. Helena jumped with fright. "Yes?" She called back as normally as she could.
"Would you like something savoury? I have crackers and some Brie."
"Er… no thank you, Marie," she tentatively lifted Geoff’s hat.
"What are you doing?" Marie was standing beside her. Helena jumped.
"Oh… well… there was a fly on Geoff’s hat," Helena babbled. "I was trying to get rid of it."
"It won’t bother him. He’s asleep," Marie frowned.
Helena stepped back and smiled as brightly as she could. "Okay, I was just… er… trying to help."
"Sure," said Marie ushering Helena back to the sofa. "The cake is just cooling on the rack. I’ll have to ice it soon."
"Is it for the Women’s Circle?" Helena asked as Marie handed her back her cup.
"Yes. It’s just a Victoria sponge but I’m going to replace the strawberry jam with the raspberry," replied Marie. "Now, you said on the telephone that you had something to tell me. What’s wrong?"
Helena hesitated. She’d been dreading this.
"I’m moving away," she blurted out.
"Oh I’m sorry to hear that," Marie reached down into her knitting bag. "Has Jack given up his job?"
"No, Jack won’t be coming," Helena watched in horror as Marie whipped some… white cotton gloves out of the bag. Helena let out a small sigh of relief. "Er… what was I saying? Oh, yes. We’re getting a divorce."
"I’m so sorry," Marie slowly put on the gloves, avoiding looking at Helena. "What happened? Was he having an affair with that receptionist from work?"
"No," Helena said quietly. "I was having the affair."
Marie didn’t look up; she just brushed a few pieces of lint from the gloves. "Oh yes? Who with?" Why wasn’t Geoff waking up yet? She’d tested the tablets three nights in a row and he’d never slept this long before.
Helena hesitated. She didn’t like the way Marie had tensed up.
"Er… well that’s what I came to tell you really," Helena stammered. "It’s Geoff."
"Oh," said Marie. Suddenly, she jumped up and started to clear away the tea things.
Helena looked confused. "Are you not angry?"
Marie looked down at her and smiled. "Angry? Why would I be angry?"
Helena stuttered. "I’m so sorry, Marie. I didn’t mean it to go so far."
"No, I’m sure you didn’t," Marie said levelly then picked up the tray.
There was a groan from Geoff’s chair. Marie turned to Helena. "Ah he’s awake."
She whisked the tea tray through to the kitchen and put it on the worktop. Here goes. She hurried back to the living room finding Helena still on the couch, wiping her eyes with a napkin.
"I’m sorry, Marie," Helena repeated.
Marie smiled and slid a hand down the side of Geoff’s chair. Her fingers curled around the gun and she snapped off the safety catch. She pulled the gun out from between the cushions.
Helena stood up quickly. "Marie!"
Marie pointed the gun at her. "There’s only room for one scarlet woman."
She fired. The bullet went cleanly into Helena’s porcelain forehead. Marie was astounded at her aim. Twelve years of throwing Geoff’s socks into the washing basket must have primed her hand eye co-ordination.
She had almost forgotten what she was supposed to do. She quickly pushed the gun into Geoff’s hand, clamping his fingers around the hilt.
She screamed loudly.
"Help! Help!" she shouted.
Geoff raised a hand to his hat and pushed it off his head. He blinked in the light of the mid afternoon sun. Marie backed away from him.
"No!" she screamed.
Geoff frowned. "What are you going on about, woman?" he said groggily. "Stop all that racket."
Marie looked down at the gun, holding her hands up to her chest.
"Please don’t!" she wailed.
Geoff looked at what was in his hands then stared at her. It was only then that he saw Helena lying on the floor, her head awkwardly leaning against a side table.
"Helena," he breathed. "Did I do that?" His mind reeled as he tried to remember.
Marie nodded frantically. "These blackouts are getting worse."
Geoff’s face hardened and his mouth curled up into a snarl. He had nothing to lose now. "I’ve wanted to do this for years."
Marie froze as he brought the gun up to her chest and fired.

The Party Girl Freewrite

She was a party girl. The one everyone thought was a great laugh. She was always up for a night out. It didn’t matter if she had work the next day or was to be up early for an appointment. Nothing got in the way of fun.
The alcohol was always flowing when she was around. She’d always be offering to buy rounds. Keeping everyone happy and keeping up with her. It’d be sad if she drank alone. That’s the last thing she wanted to be. Sad. Drinking, dancing, talking, it all made her happier. If she stopped, everything would be sad. She didn’t want to bring everyone down. They’d like her less.
She said outrageous things to shock people and make them laugh. It was fun to see their reactions. To follow with ‘I’m only joking.’ so they’d always wonder if she really was or not. It was fun. She was hurting no one. Sleeping with anyone she felt like, ignoring the ones who treated her like she was nothing. She didn’t care. They weren’t part of her life and she’d certainly never show them that they bothered her at the rare times she stopped to think.
She was one of the boys. They loved her humour and her lack of care. Her love of football was genuine, unlike some of the other girls. They just pretended to like it to make them seem interesting. She thought that was pathetic… who would have guessed that with all the humour, the drinking and the dancing, that she was doing the same?

David Freewrite

David worked in finance for the NHS. Payroll Clerk, 15 grand a year to sit and surf the net most of the day. He looked at sites he probably shouldn’t. Well, okay, definitely shouldn’t. They weren’t connected to work at all.
Intense debauchery and drug taking were not really part of NHS policy. Maybe some of the management partook in a few extra-marital liasons, it was said that the director and a few other ladder-climbers had been caught with Lesley, the HR officer, at an office party once, but nothing so extreme as the activities that rocked David’s boat.
He was sure none of them spent their weekends on a cocktail of ecstasy, cocaine and ketamine, washed down with a bottle of vodka. None of them would be clubbing at Hed Kandi and Creamfields. Visiting ‘friends’ met on bondage websites… no just a cup of cocoa and a Kit Kat for them please. There was nothing that thrilled him more than being trussed up to an iron headboard and having his body hair waxed or pulled out. He ran his fingers up his hairless arm, just the thought of it was turning him on. Sitting at his desk, thinking of the weekend just passed made the day go in that little bit quicker. His longing for the next one increased with every passing day. It gave him butterflies looking at the working drones in the office around him. Whilst they’d been watching some Saturday night dance competition, he’d be fucking a 43 year old whore who’d then waxed his body clean.

Watching

I watch you
You glance around
Looking for me?
You say something to her
She opens her door
Those golden legs swing out
onto the kerb
Her high heels hug it
as she stands


In the doorway,
I’ve left my note
You look around; searching for me?
You pick it up
Your shoulders sigh.
You open it and read aloud
Why did you do that?
She doesn’t need to know
She uses her mobile
To call her lawyer?
To arrange a divorce?
To set you free?
You look up, you see me
in the window

Someone is knocking at the door
Who can that be?
I cut myself from you
Confronted by two policemen
They’re taking me to see the doctor
But I’m not ill.

Spiders

There was something unbelievable in the desk drawer. A whole blob of spiders' eggs, just stuck in the corner like chewing gum under a school desk.
The white globules looked pregnant with little insects all ready to be born into a world where women would scream about their existence and men would gallantly squash them into pieces.
I feel sorry for their little lives.
Soon mother will come along and spot them. The Hoover will be brought out and she'll vaccuum the 'little devils' out of their cosy warm hidey hole. I'll watch as the eggs fight back, stretching like elastic and twanging back into place.
Mother does this herself. She doesn't have a gallant man to squash them.

More ideas

Well I met with the Princes Trust and the woman seems interested in my idea. We talked about my different ideas and business plan. She seemed to like the book shop idea with scones, cakes and drinks being sold.
However, the Hive don't seem to think I'll make any money out of it, which is rather disheartening. In fact, I feel like giving up because of it. I will persevere though as it's what I want to do. Maybe I won't make a profit for the first year or two... maybe I'll break even and build a reputation for myself instead so I make more money in the next years.
Maybe I will fail. This is pretty likely if I don't do enough or the right marketing.
I think I should try to publish some of my writing, perhaps I'll even put it up here.
So far, Mike and I have come up with alot of ideas for me to do including writing, translating, story reading and animal care.
Writing, I can do but I'm not really that confident enough in my ability to write any more. I find it really daunting and re-reading some of my stuff is quite embarrassing for me.
Translating, I'd need to study French again. It's been a long time since I've done any French so goodness knows how I'd do with this. I could always try it as a side line anyway.
Story reading, I have no experience with children. I think this could be a draw back to this. But maybe with a bit of training I could get on well with it.
Animal care, well I've been there, done that. It's very hard work and requires alot of confidence with animals. I have that, but I'm not sure my back could cope with all the bending required to lift dogs. I think I'd need to strengthen my back before I could do this kind of work.
So that's the idea list for the moment. Who knows what'll happen. Everything seems so up in the air.

Down turn

Well it was a bit of a shock yesterday to go into the town centre and see another lady with a second hand book stall. I'm now unsure as to what to do. Should I approach her and ask for information? Should I assume then that there is a market or she wouldn't trade? Should I give up entirely on the idea?

I'm looking at bigger premises but Dan doesn't seem interested in bigger premises. All he sees is a book shop. I would like a cafe and a little sit down area for people to relax and read in.

My keyboard isn't working well so I'll cut this off here. :0)

Starting out

So, here we are... brand new blog. Brand new business. Hopefully.
We're 4 weeks into our business course at the Hive and it's been quite fun so far. Everyone's very nice and helpful and especially eager to give out advice and share ideas.
I'm a bit worried that I'm going to be forced into doing things I don't want to.
I, ideally, would like a shop that makes money but I'm being told that books don't make money. It's the add-ons or services that you provide that make the money.

We're going to try out a market stall for a few weeks to see if there's any demand at all in the area and hopefully get our name out there. It'll be hard to do all this marketing I think as there are so many competitors.

Anyways, it's far too late for me to be writing. Bed time I think.