THE OTHER SIDE

PART 4

Beth’s days were filled with the endless pursuit of her father’s survival.

Dr. Foster’s visits did little to cheer her.  He shook his head, “If he recovers it will be a slow process. His immune system is low; often the case when they live on the streets. We can only keep him stable. I’ll call in tomorrow”. He raised his hat, “Good day to you”.

She returned to the kitchen, boiled the kettle and made tea. The warmth and smell of the brew soothed her.  In the quietness she could asses the situation for she was sure he would have family. They should be informed yet for her this was a dangerous liaison and it couldn’t fall upon her shoulders to do so.

Milly frequently returned home late from the Centre. She had undertaken Beth’s senior responsibilities and hired extra staff to cope with the excess visitors brought in by the bitterly cold winter. One evening Milly looked pale, tiredness was taking its toll. Beth noticed and began to worry. “Aunt Milly, you are tired. After supper retire straight to bed and tomorrow we will have to re-assess the situation”.

Beth had a restless night and a secret she dare not share yet Milly was carrying a far too heavy burden. Perhaps she could undertake some days at the Centre to allow Milly some time at home. Tom slept most of the time and Beth could take over when she got home.

As the dawn came in Beth got dressed. She laid a tray and took Milly’s breakfast to her. Milly sat up, “You needn’t do that lass, you’ve got yourself and Tom to see to”. “No”

replied Beth. “I should have realized, you are taking on far too much. Stay home with Tom today and I’ll go to the Centre. Dr. Forster will call and  give you instruction on his medication. I did a new Broth yesterday. It’s all he can manage but good nourishment”.

The weeks passed and Tom was gaining strength. Indeed he would now survive  the near fatal  odds which had taken hold.  Beth looked into her father’s eyes. No longer dull and tired but clear and bright. She made her way down to the kitchen and found Milly  

preparing his breakfast tray. “Milly, Tom is doing well; for sure he’ll make a full recovery. I’m so thankful and I am much in your debt”. Milly took hold of the tray, “Actually lass I’ve grown quite attached to him. He is quiet and gentlemanly but never gives any indication as to his situation. God forbid he’ll go back on the streets. There are sheltered accommodations for the homeless. That’s a thought. Beth can you bring some donated clothes home at lunchtime. It’s time he got out of bed and sit down here by the fire for afternoon tea”. Beth was enlightened by his steady recovery but knew she would have to ‘way lay’ his final departure. She couldn’t let him walk away back into depravity. “Yes I’ll fetch some clothes back during the lunch break; it’ll be a rush but good thinking Milly, see you later”. 

Beth kept to her word. Milly heard her key in the front door and boiled he kettle. “Sit yourself down and have a bite to eat. I’ve baked some fresh rolls and scones”. Beth passed across a large bag of clothing. “Second hand and donated but freshly laundered, something should fit Tom”.

As always  afternoon tea was four o’clock. Milly made her way up to the bedroom and found him stirring. She gently placed her hand on his, “Tom, I believe now is the time you should start to dress and move around. It will further aid your recovery and bring some normality and routine. Why don’t you go through these clothes and come downstairs for afternoon tea by the fire”.  He gently smiled, “Thank you, how kind to invite me to your parlour for tea dear lady. I will find something to wear and though a tad shaky on my feet will be down.

As he stood on the landing she noticed how dapper he looked in a smart navy blue blazer and beige trousers. She helped him down to the parlour and sat him by the fireside. Afternoon tea was an enjoyable experience. General pleasantries were exchanged and Milly enjoyed Tom’s tales of his travels years ago. She gathered he had been an ordinary adventurous young man.

He began to look tired. Milly took his arm and helped him back to the bedroom to rest.

As she went to close the door she noticed a familiar photo on the floor: Beth as a young baby with her mother. Beth had cleared out the wardrobe earlier that day to make space for items of clothing he may wish to keep.

Beth arrived home tired yet excited to learn if Tom had made it downstairs. Milly smiled, “Yes it was a good exercise. He is still unsteady but the strength is there, He enlightened me about his travels as a young man; quite a character once I’d say. However he tired quickly so he is back resting. Oh by the way I found this photo of yours. You must have dropped it from the wardrobe whilst clearing It at lunchtime. Beth became flustered for she knew her own copy was safely in a box with a key. She thought Milly had known that. The same photo on the floor must have dropped out of Tom’s tatty wallet. Somehow

she had to get the photo back in to his wallet before he missed it and enquired if it had been found. Milly mustn’t know nor must he; not yet.

Tom enjoyed afternoon tea in the parlour. The routine was good for his well being.

Milly had undertaken responsibility of he Center’s ministration paperwork at home. It would take he strain off Beth. She preferred the quietness and always completed it by midday. Beth insisted she kept it tucked away out of sight for confidentiality business reasons even though she had her own reasons. Tom may know the name Potterton which would be on it.

Millie was preparing afternoon tea when the doorbell rang. Tom was warming his hands by the fireside; “I’ll get the door” he called out. As he opened it a gruff voice took him aback. “Excuse me mate, I have a large packet for a Miss Beth Potterton . Tom had never enquired as to Beth or Millie’s surnames. He thought it too intrusive being he would only be there a short time. He stammered, “Can you repeat the name again?.” “Beth Potterton mate”, came the reply. Millie emerged from the kitchen, ” Oh, it’s only stationery, Yes I need It here, where do I sign?”.

Tom ate very little tea. “Are you feeling all right” Milly quipped. Yes I am fine thank you,I  just feel a little peaky, would you excuse me if I retired?”

He lay on the bed. Potterton!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Could these people be related to my beloved Beattie. Can I find her?

….

When Beth came home she knocked on his door and entered the room. He looked into her eyes, her strong cheekbones and thick wavy hair looked strangely familiar.

 .

  

Monologue

SUCCESS HOLDS A PRICE

SCENE

A woman in her early sixties makes her way out to the patio of her Villa in the South of France carrying a tray with a Cafftiere and a single mug. She places it on a small Bistro table and looks up at the early morning sun which is beginning its journey across the bay.

(She pours a mug of black coffee from the Cafeteire and looks up)

“I had my fortune told when I was nineteen and yes I heard exactly what I wanted to hear.

It is moneyed here and glamorous. Not that I was ever a glamorous kind of girl; in fact quite the opposite”. (She flicks her shoulder length hair back from her face). “I’ll tie it back later in the manner I’ve always done from the very beginning. Makeup! Perhaps I had a tad on my wedding day but otherwise never.

It’s always been the same; trousers or jeans unless the occasion begged for the formality of a dress or skirt.

I was incredibly thin until I reached the age of thirty. By some awful assumed hereditary gene my body transformed itself into a large pear shape. Yes, I was bothered but success, power and wealth were the most attractive attributes in a woman and they were my ultimate goals. As you can see (she gestures her hand across the bay) fortune teller was “spot on”.

David, my husband is having his usual lie-in. I sometimes wonder why he bothers to get up. I met him at the age of sixteen whilst I was working as a cashier at the local supermarket. He worked for the local Council as a Labourer on road maintenance. Of course I never intended to let him go. He was an easy going lad, not exactly a ‘push over’ but I could manoeuvre him round to my way of thinking,

Yes, I had rivals for his attentions but I always saw to that. I remember one Monday evening after a hectic weekend we decided to spend the evening apart, him at home with his parents and me at home with mine. That particular night Stuart and Helen, a couple of mutual friends called in. I said he was at home with his parents and would phone him.  Well, ‘blow me down’, his father said he had gone out.  We decided to go for a drink.  ‘Low and behold’ we walked into a local Pub and there was David with another girl.

I sensed the look on everyone’s face; sheer embarrassment I can tell you. It didn’t do much for me either

but it cost him a few bob with two of us to pay for. We stayed and I sat her out. Sorted! she was soon off the scene!!!!!! (She laughs) “Getting a bit hot now, the suns moved round” (She tilts the umbrella, sits back down and sips more coffee)

“I was strong and determined; that’s why we’re here now.   

At nineteen I got a clerical job in a bank; today it has grown into one of the major giants. I was on good terms with the Manager and I did quite a bit of running about for him. Of course I had ‘ideas of grandeur’

This was a step up for me from the supermarket. Nevertheless it made me feel important though I must admit I exaggerated the job to my friends. It gave me that superior buzz.

                                                                         

(She turns and looks at the climbing rose on the wall) “Must get Pierre to cut that back a bit when

he next comes round to do the garden)

Stuart’s girlfriend Helen was a classy and smart girl. You know, private education and her own car at eighteen and a job in Television.   She and I were entirely opposites. I was feisty, she was placid and had ‘little backbone’ but apart from that she was the type I wanted to be around with socially. In fact I envied her good fortune in life and almost disliked her. I saw her as a threat for she had the ‘edge over me’ and would go far. 

We both married our respective partners. It took ages to get David to commit but after much hinting from me woke up and thought he was eventually ready. One thing Helen and I did have in common was that neither of us had any desire for children. I clung desperately to fulfill my ambition as a successful self made business woman and children would hold me back. That was never going to happen. David would have loved children but respected my views. Child rearing always fell upon the woman’s domain. Helen could never leave her love of the television industry. Childcare was not easy to find in those days unless one employed a nanny... But oh whoops!!!!!!! Helen became pregnant and that ended her dream. I bought David a dog. He idolized her; she was his baby, job done!

I went to clay making classes and not long after started up a ‘cottage industry’ in the garage at home. I made urns, vases, candle holders, different shaped vessels for the catering industry and more. It was a chance and as luck would have it began to earn a decent income. Business was beginning to flourish and David gave up his job with the Council on the roads. As business came our way I was always at the helm whether it be talking business or entertaining both influential and prospective clientele. In those days the mainstream was a man’s world and I needed to be in feisty, in control,  financially negotiable yet charming.

My brother Steve’s two children were like our own and of course David had Rusty; his beloved King Charles Spaniel. They were all spoilt rotten; holidays abroad with us twice a year. Of course we had a ready made family. How lucky was that!  

We lost touch with Helen and Stuart; it wasn’t on our part. They struggled financially went through a rocky patch with Helen’s despair from sacrificing the working environment and world she so loved for the duties of motherhood. However I heard she had later undertaken a career in another direction and went to the top. I was quite surprised; didn’t know she had it in her. Apparently they have several grand children together and I would suppose in hindsight were glad fate turned its hand. The up-turn is that they at least have their own flesh and blood albeit a constant drain on resources.

                                                                      

Well, as you can see we made it.” (She gestured her hand at the villa and drank her last sip of coffee)

  

Of course we invited all our business friends out here now we are retired. One or two came across at first but of course you know how it is, when daily business ceases you somehow lose touch or they are too busy. It’s a shame really because we assumed some of them would remain lifelong friends.” (She stops and listens) “I think I can hear David, it’s about time. He’ll be at the midday wine. Becoming a habit and a bit of a worry but as he says “We are in France”

In fact my sister Liz phoned last night, She and her family have joined us for Christmas since we’ve been here for the past two years, Apparently they have booked to go for Spain this year with in-laws.  My brother Steve and his wife stay in England as the children are getting older and want to be with their friends...

Ummm (she drums her fingers on the table).  “Think we’ll get to know the local villagers at last.

They have several Christmas activities and perhaps even buy another dog.

(She takes a look at the sun worshippers flocking to the beach, picks up the tray and walks back into the villa)

.

                                                                         

SHORT STORY                                THE HIDING PLACE

The dull clouds covered the sky like a shroud and the winter chill cut into the air with a biting coldness.

Fiona walked the street in search for  basement flat at no.72.

Uncle Tom had been a recluse since retiring from teaching. As a young man he had back-packed and hosteled the world. The poverty and depravity he witnessed  had never left him. He hated Beaurocrats. They creamed money from the country;  its people were starving.

He couldn’t abide the wastage of money. In fact he had become paranoid and over cautious albeit his salary as a teacher was modest enough to afford a reasonably comfortable lifestyle for himself.eH “Over indulgence” he would say. He had made a conscious decision never to marry. That would be a fruitless venture which would force him into buying property and would incur great financial loss should the marriage fail.

Fiona’s father had been his Next of Kin and sole Executor to his Will.  He had passed away two years previously leaving him only one choice. He nominated Fiona his Next of Kin and also Executor to his will  alongside her sister Jane.  They had never visited his flat before; no-one had. Upon his demise Fiona had been given his  keys to commence the necessary ‘clear out’ duties. She walked down the basement steps and looked at the keys. One for the security lock, one for the Yale and another for wherever it would be needed. She unlocked the door pushing it with force as her entry was obscured by a stack of post. The flat was dingy, dark and smelt musty. She remembered the rare occasions Uncle Tom had joined family gatherings. He never failed to enlighten those present that his only requirements were a small bed-sit, kitchen and shared upstairs bathroom. “More than adequate for my needs” he would say.   She gasped as she entered.. A couple of old blankets covered the windows, a dirty thread bear carpet was pieced together by gaffer tape and an old well worn electric fire was his only means of warmth.. It  was indeed cluttered and a single bed in the corner was covered in tatty “rag like” bedding.

Jane would be arriving soon. Fiona’s mobile rang. “Hi Fi, I’m here. Can you open the door?” Upon entering, Jane looked bewildered, “Oh my God, what a pigsty! We knew Uncle Tom was tight; not even a Birthday or Christmas card but this is ‘beyond the pale’ living like this”. Fiona guided her to the other door, “This must be the kitchen; I believe he said he shared the bathroom upstairs”. She opened it; it was sparse to say the least. A table top electric oven sat on the worktop alongside a two burner camping stove and calor gas bottle. On the wall was a slot electric meter. “No washing machine”, Jane quipped, “But then again I suspect he used the Launderette”. “There’s little to turn out for the Landlord”, Fiona said relieved. Jane pondered, “Um. Just the Estate to tie-up. He lived a very frugal lifestyle so he was obviously penniless although he must have brought in a reasonable salary whilst in the teaching profession. It must have gone somewhere” Jane looked up at the single hanging light bulb “I reckon some was used for traveling and the remainder given  to the poor.  He had an obsessive issue with poverty and how it came about. “The deed of greedy, evil Beaurocratcs,” he would say. Yes, it’s probably gone abroad and if that was his choice then fair play to him” she said. Fiona agreed, “A good thing to do with your life; help others but to live like this! ! I would make us some coffee but it would mean boiling water from a saucepan on the calor gas and I think he only drank tea”.  Jane picked up her handbag. “I wouldn’t want one here anyway, the place isn’t that clean.  I’m going to Starbucks. I’ll bring a couple of lattes and our favourite chocolate doughnuts back”.

Left by herself Fiona pulled up a chair at the shabby kitchen table. First things first she thought and scooped up the post. There was a heap of ‘junk mail; a final Council Tax demand, a few personal handwritten letters from friends and a white envelope.  As she turned it over she noticed the Harrods logo.                                                              

“Harrods!!!” intriguingly she opened it. It was a receipt for the first payment of  £30,000. She looked puzzled. “I’m back Fi; time for a break” Jane called out. Fiona didn’t flinch, “Err yes thanks Jane, hey take a look at this” “An invoice for a Chesterfield, TV Screen and entertainment system”.                              

“There must be a mistake Fi. Uncle Tom was practically penniless unless  there is something we don’t know.  Fiona looked at the delivery address. “ Hilary Davies, 202 Latchfield Road, South Kensington.

Oh what a silly old fool, that’s the woman friend he mentioned. I believe she had several admirers and our Uncle Tom must have gone in the running as the highest bidder for her attention.  She will have the goods by now He wouldn’t waste money on such luxuries for himself.”  The freshly brewed coffee and doughnuts were a welcome treat. They threw the cups and paper bags into the kitchen bin. Jane began to panic, “There won’t be enough in the estate to pay for this; what was he doing?” Fiona also looked concerned, “Oh Jane, as Executors it will be our responsibility to ensure this is payed off and the family can’t help out!. We’ll end up in Court.  Mark and I are  paying for Lucy to go to Uni in September so we can’t pay any of it off”. Jane looked agitated, “David and I are taking Clarissa and George to Disneyworld. We’ve promised them for years and have taken out a loan so don’t look at me”. Both tension and fear were beginning to rise.

Fiona picks up her handbag, “I'm going home to think about this. It’s left us with one hell of a problem”  She looks at the bunch of keys; and still hadn’t ascertained what the third was for but that could wait for another day. She passed a small door in the hallway which she assumed was a broom cupboard. It had a small lock. She tried the third key.  It opened , she turned on a switch and steps  led her downwards. . She beckoned her sister down. “It’s a cellar Jane!!.  

A large Beer barrel stood against the wall caught  Fiona’s gaze. “That’s an old one”, she goes over to it and tries to feel its heaviness. “It’s full; didn’t know Uncle Tom liked Beer”. Jane takes a look “Turn it around a bit; there seems to be a hole around the back” Fiona squeezes her hand through the hole and pulls out an envelope. She opens it to find it full of £50 notes. There is another envelope and another. In fact the entire barrel is full. This barrel was the hiding place for his stash.

“Looks like the problem’s solved” Fiona said excitedly. “We’ll have to pay Harrods in full and I’m sure Uncle Tom wouldn’t like the Taxman getting to this. There could be well over a quarter of a million here. He hated Bearocrats and no-one knows about this only us”.

THE OTHER SIDE

PART THREE

Beth sought sound financial advice. She bought a small Georgian style house for herself and her aunt within the smarter area of Chelsea. Her invested assets would

Profit and afford her a wealthy standard of living. With a heavy heart she resigned

from her job at the Department Store. Her conscience forbade her to keep a job she didn’t financially require. The position could be filled by another who genuinely needed it to put food on the table and anyway it was unacceptable for women of high financial standing to ‘earn their keep’.

Her days were filled socializing within the grander houses of the Chelsea elite, sometimes accompanied by Millie if she wished to join her. The enormity of its lifestyle; homes adorned with Chandeliers, pure velvet drapes and  cut class crystal drinking vessels overflowing at luncheons/ dinner/cocktail parties. The social learning curve of etiquette was a steep one but one she found curious albeit a tad pretentious.  If in doubt she could rely on her aunt for guidance.

She gave little away for she had sworn on oath to protect the anonyminity of her father.

When asked about her background she said she was he daughter of a city banker, went to boarding school and was finally set up by her parents in London with her aunt. Her father and mother had moved to New York as he had landed a career move he couldn’t refuse and Beth wished to stay in London. The usual ‘tittle tattle’ and social climbing irritated Beth though at times she felt an undercurrent of belittlement from them. She hadn’t travelled the world on cruise liners or couldn’t name drop the rich and famous. She pondered, if only they knew her true circumstances, yet they never would. In fact she had little in common apart from her wealth and the odd shopping trip to Harrods. She had seen the other side of life and out of choice was modest with her expenditures. Perhaps

she would fill some time traveling; see the world.

Early one morning as she pulled open the drapes a young paper boy with a bicycle on the pavement below caught her eye. It brought back memories of the small boy in tatters chewing a crust, the stray hungry dog and the rancid smell of the dirty street.  Why?, she asked herself, are some born into such poverty whilst the rich squandered so much in their quest for superiorship and possessions?

Beth saw the raw light of reality. She had a calling, had to help the less fortunate. She had fallen on good luck by birthright but she had an affinity with them, she knew how it was, seen it and lived amongst it.

She discussed it with Milly though her aunt knew Beth was determined and was happy to support her.

Beth bought a ‘run down’ unused hall, had it renovated and with Milly’s help opened a

Soup kitchen and rest room. Its visitors and regulars were hungry, homeless, shabby, unclean and unshaven.  Every face was ‘well worn’ and told a story.

Sam a regular shuffled in one night, his shoes worn and the cardboard lining them disintegrating. Beth stared in disbelief and turned to her aunt. “We need warm blankets,

and spare clothing”.  Milly took off the old man’s shoes “Let’s see what we can do with these to patch them up. There’s plenty of moneyed folk around these parts who throw out decent clothing, such a waste, I’ll put word out”.

Beth looked forward to opening the soup kitchen at night. It gave her purpose and she had found her vocation. During the day she would sometimes bake, not only did she find it relaxing but it was a luxury for those who dropped in for some warm food later.

It was a Monday night and a bitter mid winter chill had taken hold. “We’ll be busy tonight lass”, Millie said as she turned on the hot food burners. The door swung open.

Tom, a regular staggered through the door. He was of quiet nature, well spoken, polite and a private individual.  He never gave rhyme nor reason for his misfortune. Beth saw him sway. “Steady on Tom, a bit too much tonight? Unusual for you”.  He fell to the floor. As she went to his aid she realized he was gravely ill. “Call a doctor, something’s wrong. Could be a heart attack or pneumonia”.  She picked up his rucksack. “I don’t like going through his possessions but I need to see if he has any contacts or family”.  She found a small wallet and opened it. It contained a small tatty card embossed with a crest.

The name was familiar; Lord Thomas Gainsborough. A faded  photo fell out into Beth’s hand.. As she looked closer the image became familiar; a young beautiful woman…………her mother!!!!!! She turned around and gazed into the eyes of her father.   

 

   

   

THE OTHER SIDE   (Contd)………

PART TWO

The move to her aunt’s  was welcoming. As Beth placed her bags in the hallway Millyt beckoned her into the Parlour. “Now lass, you’ve got to rest; regain your strength. I’ve boiled the water and brought in the bath. It’s in the back room by the fire”.

As Beth laid back  the warm water embraced her. Amidst the turmoil  inside her head she could at least attempt to gather her thoughts with quietness and  ease.  She. got dressed and sat by the fireside. Milly entered the room with a hairbrush. “Let me brush your hair”. Beth was not akin to such tenderness but nevertheless savoured each brushstroke which swept her long brown hair.

On the day of her mother’s funeral Beth wore a black skirt and jacket from her ‘Sunday best’.  “There’ll be no need to fear your stepfather and his daughters, they’re nothing to you now”,  Milly  said determinedly.  As they stood by the graveside a dark storm cloud appeared overhead. It was a grim day and the atmosphere was tense. Her stepfather shot  across a steely, cold stare. His daughters stood beside him trying to catch her gaze with  a cruel  hint of mockery. As her mother’s s coffin was lowered into the ground a bird on the wing took flight. Beth looked up and pondered for a split second ; a reminiscence of  her mother’s soul flying free. Hot tears trickled down her cheeks; a mixture of emotion playing with her senses. She was bereft for her loss, nevertheless her mother was free and so was she.

Her aunt had never married. She earnt a decent wage as a seamstress and kept a neat, clean and comfortable home.

Beth needed to support herself, craving the dignity and independence which accompanied it. She found  work at the local departmental store. This was a new experience, exciting yet fearful. She was entering a new life into unknown territory. As exhilaration  overwhelmed her during her uniform fitting she imagined herself in the  smart black suit and crisp white blouse. Indeed she would  wear it with pride.  As she learnt ‘the ropes’ of retail she enjoyed the challenges it brought. Friday was payday, everyone loved Friday. With it came the usual night out with the girls. How good it felt to have a social life with dependable friends. Her days off were spent sharing chores with Milly alongside  time for relaxation.  Beth loved baking and the scones she baked were hastily eaten together with her aunt’s home made fruit jam.  Yes, life was good, a happy relief from the one she left behind. Pride and dignity were a priceless commodity.  

                                                          

On the morning of her 18^th birthday Beth accompanied  Milly to the City. Only the ‘well healed’ did business in this part of London and today she would discover the secret of her destiny. A secret which had been safely guarded for her by her late mother and presumably also her aunt. As she stared out of the murky window she felt her heart beating almost simultaneously to the pounding of the train moving along the tracks.

They arrived at a small bleak building amidst a parade of shops, Milly checked the address. “Number 32A. This is it., yes Jeremy Black & Co Solicitors”.”They were greeted by a middle age man, dapperly dressed in a pin striped  suit and white starched shirt. He took his pocket watch out of his waistcoat , “Ah 11 o’clock, Miss Potterton and Miss Arkly.  Jeremy Black, pleased to met you and I believe birthday greetings are the order of the day”. Beth blushed. “Thank you Sir” He shook both their hands and ushered them into a small dingy room. “Please take a seat ladies. I will see Miss Arkly in my office in a moment”.. Beth’s complexion paled and the nerves in the pit of her stomach made her  queasy. “If you would like to come with me Miss Arkly” he gestured. Milly placed a reasurring hand on Beth’s. “You’ll be fine lass.”.

 The office was small and as she sat down the smell of the highly polished desk made her stomach churn further.  He opened the draw of  a large metal cabinet and drew out a file. “Miss Arkly,  as you may or may not be aware a significant inheritance is awaiting you. There are certain conditions we must discuss before you do so. Do you wish me to continue?”. Beth anxiously fiddled with the strap of her handbag. “Yes Mr. Black please continue” . “You see Miss Arkly,  shortly after your birth and under the name of  Potterson, your legal birth name, your mother was secured a large inheritance for you  when you reached eighteen years of age.. However, in order to do so she had to swear on oath to protect your natural father’s  anonymity”.”.  He took off his spectacles and placed them on the file.  “Your father had a high position in society. He was of aristocratic background, with I may say  Royal connections. He met your mother when she was a performing artist though unfortunately knowledge of their  relationship and its consequence would have resulted in his downfall”.  Beth tried to contain her composure. “Do you understand the sensitivity of the matter”? “Yes, I understand Sir and you have my word, my mother kept her silence. I never knew the true identity of my father and I believe no one else did either.  I was led to believe he was away serving at sea when I was born, never returned and was presumed dead.  That’s all I knew and any further talk on the matter was strictly  forbidden.”  Well, Miss Potterton do you wish to know your father’s identity and with it wish to inherit under the same lawful conditions of confidentiality?”

                                                  

Beth pondered, the enormity of her decision weighed heavily upon her. She thought of her mother and at this juncture  knew what had to be done. “Yes Mr. Black, I would like to know who my father was and yes I will sign on oath to pledge his anonymity”. He put his spectacles back on and read from the file “Your father is Lord Gainsborough”. I will call my colleague in to witness your oath and signature”. “Just one further matter Mr. Black. Upon my mother’s marriage to Mr Arkly I was brought up with his family name.  Could I please revert to Potterton?” He smiled, “Of course my dear, I am sure we can look into that”.

                                                                       

SONNET

AGEISM

He got the job, a mere slip of a lad

My rival he was but I shake his hand

They knew I could hack it, and so much more

Worked up through the ranks. Worked hard to the core

I gave my all; dedication the lot

For what may I ask? Or have they forgot?

At fifty years’ old I’ve a worldly face

Seems age is against me in the workplace

But reflection is good; time now to think                            

Too much for too long may lead to the brink

                                                                                                                    

Late nights, deadlines. Dark stress that smoulders

At end of shift I breeze out through the door

Straight home to the fold to those I adore

SONNET

REFLECTIONS

Summer is fading, its’ brightness subsides

The late evening sun goes down to hide

Replaced by the moon and its’ perfection

It has a face; is it your reflection?

I reach out to touch you; so near, so far

Shining down sweetly like my shining Star

The gold tones of Autumn enrich our days

Like love’s own splendor which ne’er goes away

Sun kissed Autumn leaves; red, yellow and gold

Like jewels on the ground; a sight to behold

The pleasures we gain from such resources

The Sun and the Moon taking their courses

I love the moon, it has such perfection

I can see your face in its’ reflection