They'll be posted here as they are provided to us
The first is Clare Dornan's story:
A shady character
She anxiously chewed her nails, chipping away the Lilac
Dream varnish that had been flawless only hours before.
Her eyes flicked once more to the suitcase sitting ominously
in the hall.
She slid the screwdriver through the tiny lock and twisted
it round until the metal contorted and finally gave up the fight.
She unzipped the case and raised the lid.
Lucy was proud of her transition to a language school
teacher. She was not just a Teacher of English, but provided the foreign
visitor with the full experience: a place to stay, excursions through the city
and home cooking of a standard that she knew was some what above the usual
fare. Now five years into her new calling and the bookings were steadily
increasing.
She rarely stewed over her days at the BBC any longer. The
15 years of service, arranging filming shoots for increasingly younger,
increasingly impatient producers. No matter what tight schedule they would harp
on about, no document ever left her desk until she was sure grammar and
punctuation was perfect.
When the rounds of redundancies were announced, she sensed
the shift in her boss from a frosty reception to a patronising smile. And when
she was told that she would be leaving, she realised there was no one left who
cared to hear her complaints. Even John in the Canteen, was in no mood to
listen that day, having just discovered he was soon to be replaced by a Nestle
vending machine.
But now she was her own boss, teacher and educator. She even
had a website with links to her Menu for the Week, Testimonials and photos of
students smiling while tackling the pluperfect.
Juan had come on the recommendation of his sister Maria -
one of her earlier students He’d surprised her by turning up on her doorstep
just as she was about to leave to collect him at the airport. He’d arrived
early and hitched a lift – he didn’t want to put her out he said.
There was a glint in those dark eyes that instantly made her
a little sheepish and she was aware of her own flushed chitter chatter, as she showed
him round her compact Victorian terrace.
It had been the start of an unusual week’s teaching as
unlike his linguistically challenged sister Maria, Juan’s English was
surprisingly impressive. Her lesson plans had been torn up and replaced with
in-depth discussions about her business, life and interests. She had been
flattered when he said how Maria had praised her cooking – particularly her
tiramusu – and she’d broken her menu plan and made it twice in one week. He’d
been so complimentary about the many handmade crafts in her home…. Even
admiring the embarrassingly overstuffed embroidered cushion – the outcome from
her brief foray into re-upholstery night classes.
The small twinges of uncertainty about her student had never
risen above the quickened heartbeat and extra layer of lipstick in the morning.
They had only started to rise, like bubbles oozing up through a thick and
reluctant syrup when he hadn’t returned this afternoon.
She was sure he knew when they should leave for the airport
and her panic had briefly subsided when she found the suitcase already packed
in his room. He was just running late, she consoled herself – perhaps a last
minute shopping trip to get a gift for Maria.
Maria.
What was it about Maria that caused a small mental bubble of
doubt to form?
Then she realised. She couldn’t remember Maria ever
mentioning a brother. And Maria’s testimonial on her website made her even more
unsettled… “Everyone should come and study with Lucy! I recommend to all my
friends. And her cooking! – the best Tiramisu ever.”
It was when she tried to phone that she noticed the flashing
message light. The call must have come in that morning when she’d been frying
up his English breakfast. It was impossible to hear the phone from the kitchen,
yet from the dining room it was impossible to miss. Juan must have heard the
message being recorded – yet he had not said anything about the Bank wanting
her to call them urgently.
She laughed at her paranoia. He would be back for his case
soon. He wouldn’t just leave all his things and disappear!
So she had sat there, twitching. It was only after the
intended flight had long since taken to the air when she had placed the
screwdriver into the lock.
She lifted the lid and her heart froze as she stared into
the case. It was totally empty except for one sickeningly familiar, overstuffed
embroidered cushion.
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