Chair in the Corner

As I was late, the procedure was to explain, face to face, my reasons to my boss on arrival. So I knocked on his door and half opened it.

"Oh, you have got here at last you idle cunt. I'm here trying to sort out your fucking cock-ups while you lie in bed wanking."

Beside me the door swung fully open.

"You," the M.D. growled, "In my office. Now."

My boss looked shell-shocked, and staggered out of the room. The M.D. led me into the Bosses office and closed the door.

"What was all that about?"

"Well, I was late!"

Why was I apologising for him? I looked at the paperwork on the desk. I recognised it. It was a job where I had been instructed to follow the boss's check-list, but that I knew needed different handling.

I explained the problem.

"Right. I'll deal with it. You make yourself scarce. Take the day off. Come and see me on Monday morning. This will be your office from now. Let's see how he copes with your job."

So, I made my way back to the station, back to the village. I was famished. I had not been hungry the previous evening, and had missed my breakfast. The Fox was open, and it was well known for its roast beef sandwiches. It was too early for beer, so I had a coffee. I sat at the same table as the previous evening and waited for my refreshment to arrive.

I looked to my side, where she had sat. She had not been on the bench beside me, but on the other side. There was no chair there now - there was an old varnished barrel with a lamp fixed upon it. It was clear, from the dust and floor colour that the barrel had been there for some time.

My sandwich and coffee arrived and I soon made it disappear. I left the Fox by the back door into the yard. Yes, the snicket between the buildings was there and I took it. Where it joined the path behind the buildings, however things were different. The path to the right, that we had taken, was overgrown with brambles. Looking along it, where there had been the orchard there was a building site. I turned left, and found the path and back lane as I remembered it - a useful short cut between home and the Fox.

Back home, Beryl, my wife was seated at the kitchen table. She had boxes and albums of photographs spread before her.

"What's the matter? Are you OK?" she asked.

I explained to her about the late train, my Boss, and the M.D.

"About time too. He has been bullying you for long enough. I've got some news too. They want me to work days."

"Are you happy with that?"

"Yes, I think so. We will be able to see more of each other."

I asked about the photographs. Beryl explained that they were doing a project with the the elderly folk she helped care for. She was looking for photos that might trigger their memories.

I glanced at them. One stole my attention

"Beryl, who is that?

"I don't know. She took the photo from the album. Pencilled on the back was:-

'Ethel Corbett. Orchard Cottage. Herbalist and Seamstress.'

"Corbett?" This was my wife's maiden name. "Any relation?"

"Ethel?" she pondered. "It might be my great Aunt Ethel."

I picked up the photograph. The face was the same, and so was the clinched waist. The face was familiar because of the similarity to my wife's. The jacket looked similar as well.

"I think that I remember my Gran saying something about her once. I don't think the family had much to do with her. They were very chapel and tea-total, and she was supposed to have a bit of a reputation. She is supposed to have been a drinker and to have had men to visit, with gifts and stuff."

I was stunned. I had dreamed that I had spent the night, and what a night, with my wife's great aunt. But the path? How had I known about that?

Now I did need a drink. I fetched the bottle from my overcoat pocket. I got a glass, and twisted the top, expecting the resistance of the metal tamper-proof seal, but it opened easily. I looked at it. The fluid in the bottle was dark.

I put the kettle on, and fetched another glass. I poured a little into each glass, and added hot water.

Yes. Apples. I sipped. Oh yes.

I put the other glass on the table beside Beryl. I stood behind her as she sat.

"Taste that, my darling."

I put my hands on her shoulder and started to massage.

"That feels nice."

She picked up her glass, and sipped. She liked it.

I massaged. I stroked.

I allowed my hands to slide down in front of her. I cupped her breasts. I could feel her nipples hardening beneath my hands.

"Ooooh, lovie" Beryl murmured, "That feels very nice."

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