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Joy Mutter, author
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Category:
Relationships
Publisher: CreateSpace
ISBN-10: 1519253001
Type: Fiction
Pages: 298
Copyright: Nov 26, 2015
ISBN-13: 9781519253002
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
The dramatic incidents, challenges and temptations in the past and present lives of four couples of varying ages, professions and sexual persuasions that are all linked by either blood or friendship.
The main action takes place in rural Kent and London. It looks at the dramatic incidents, challenges and temptations in the past and present lives of four couples of varying ages, professions and sexual persuasions that are all linked by either blood or friendship. The negative, selfish, sometimes violent natures of some of the characters in Potholes and Magic Carpets wreak havoc on the innocent. A tale of not so simple folk.
Excerpt
Laura had just started to enjoy her visits to Bert’s bungalow when he suddenly died. It was Laura who discovered this sad fact after finding that there were two pints of milk still standing proudly in the post box one morning. She dashed across to his home to check there was no problem then peered through one of the grimy windows. Her heart skipped several beats on seeing him lying motionless on the floor in his living room, one arm outstretched. Bert’s front door was never locked, there being nothing much to steal if appearances were anything to go by, so she cautiously entered his home, first ensuring that Rebecca could not be traumatised by catching sight of the tragic tableau. The toddler gurgled happily in her pushchair in the corner of the kitchen, expecting to see Bert’s smiling face.
Unusually for modern times, there was no phone at Bert’s house. After checking for any signs of life by holding her handbag mirror to his mouth, feeling for a pulse on cold flesh. Finding no flicker of life, Laura raced back up the bumpy path to her house pushing Rebecca who was still happily oblivious to the drama. Laura cursed herself for not bringing her mobile phone with her. Once home, she grabbed her landline and rang for an ambulance, just in case Bert was unexpectedly alive because she was no expert when it came to death. She had never seen a possibly dead person before and the unfamiliarity of the situation naturally disturbed her.
After dialling the emergency services and dashing back towards Bert’s house to meet them there, she was surprised to find tears welling up in her large, blue eyes. With nobody at her house to look after Rebecca, she was obliged to drag the pushchair and demanding toddler everywhere she went, but still managed to arrive back at Bert’s home before the ambulance drew up outside. She stood staring at the old man’s motionless body, wishing she could pick Bert up from the grimy floor, yet knowing that it would be wrong to move him.
After the paramedics had ascertained that nothing more could be done for Bert, one of the ambulance-men asked Laura, ‘Are you related to the deceased?’
‘No, I’m just his neighbour. I only come over here to collect my milk after Bert kindly offered to take it in for me. I’ve only really got to know him over the past few months,’ Laura replied.
‘Do you know who his next of kin might be?’ one of the paramedics asked.
‘I know that he has a son called Nick who lives in London, although I don’t have a phone number for him because Bert doesn’t own a phone,’ she replied, conscious and embarrassed not to be able to tell the ambulance crew Bert’s surname. To Laura, the elderly man had always just been known as Old Bert.
‘Leave it with us to sort everything out from here. Thank you for your help, Mrs Clothier,’ one of the paramedics said, whereupon she took the opportunity to leave the distressing scene to the care and attention of the experts.
Laura felt more upset than she imagined that she would do, regretting not having made his last days on earth more comfortable, not that Bert would have allowed her to help, with his pride and independence being so ingrained.
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