Today was the day. Her baby was finally coming home. She had spent weeks preparing-choosing colour schemes, constructing furniture, planning changes of routine to accommodate their new arrival. Now, with everything in order, she found it difficult to settle. Every time she heard a car door slam she jumped up at the window and eventually the sound heralded the return of her husband with their precious bundle.

The precious bundle was now thirty-four years old and was reluctantly returning to his parent’s home after irreconcilable differences ended his marriage. With his heart broken, ego crushed and bank balance depleted he had recognised the inevitable-he would temporarily need a bolt hole in which to lick his wounds while planning next steps. Thankfully his father had convinced his mother that their recently built basement renovation would be the perfect place and that ‘no’ taking up residency in his old room would not suffice.

Reluctantly she handed over the keys allowing direct access to the basement flat. She had hoped that he would want to come and go via the main house so that she could regularly keep an eye on him and detain him with cups of tea and slices of her homemade cakes. Basically, she had hoped to win him back. She was disappointed that, despite her delay tactics and loaded statements, he had accepted the keys. She was very pleased with the keyring though: ‘Son, you outgrew my lap, but never my heart’.

The keyring would have to go-he would seek out his ‘Breaking Bad’ keychain. His thoughts went to a dark place and he reminded himself that she meant well. This did not stop him from immediately finding the connecting door and bolting it from the inside. The new studio flat seemed cosy enough. He gathered up the childhood toys and mementos that had been strategically placed around the living area and dumped them on the freshly made bed. The quicker he unpacked, the better.

After washing up their tea things she settled her husband in front of the TV and retired to the spare room, which she had arranged for the purpose of enabling her new found hobby. Her husband thought that she had taken up needlepoint; the reality was much more technological than that. She placed the baby monitor on the side table, beside her cup and saucer. As sounds from the basement issued forth she allowed herself a triumphant smile.

The following two tabs change content below.

• Bio
• Latest Posts

Amanda Bird

Amanda has always thought of herself as an armchair traveller, and since early childhood books and stories have provided the portal to other worlds. Her love of reading sparked a passion for writing and she has been writing stories since... a very long time ago! She now lives in Hove, and the view allows space for her imagination to roam.

Latest posts by Amanda Bird (see all)

• N7 - 27/07/16
• Doesn’t Dance Well With Others - 26/03/16
• Hunting High and Low - 15/02/16
• A Point of View - 09/02/16
• The Naked Truth - 04/02/16