Beech Wood Embers

  I stood at the edge of the forest in the rain, as ashen grey clouds thickened above. It was one of those days when the sun refuses to make an appearance. I stood there contemplating whether to climb over the barbwire. It was a small forest by European standards. English forests are small and shabby. You can walk from one side to the other of most of them in an afternoon. They’re far too small to get lost in, unless you venture in after dark.              The sun that hadn’t shone was going down behind the leafless oaks. It was cold after the March rain. The birds had begun to sing again, but the day carried no warmth. The wild garlic had risen out from the sodden mud. The land was at that point before the warmth of spring, when everything waits in expectation, trees, plants, animals, all waiting for the warmth of the sun. When the sun hits, everything bursts into life and the stillness of Winter is forgotten by all but h...

The black rolls drove into the grounds of Green Stag House. They passed through the rust ridden cast iron gates, a toothless gate keeper shot them a grin and shut the gates behind them. They drove slow along an avenue of lime, to their left an old pleasure maze, to their right, acres of gardens, all over grown and forgotten. They swerved a boating lake with fountain statue of Poseidon and his water nymphs in the centre. Cynthia peered into the moonlit gardens. She glimpsed a lone silver figure. Her skin prickled.             ‘Who’s that woman?’ Cynthia said to her new husband, Lord Sotherbill.             ‘Nothing dear, just an old statue of Hera.’             ‘I thought I saw It move.’             ‘It’s just a trick of the moonlight.’ Cynthia went quiet. The car drove o...

  It was the day of nine o’clock G.C.S.E math’s exam. We lined up outside the lunch hall like conscripts awaiting basic training. The black painted mesh of the bike shed was flaking. I picked at it. I felt sick. I snuck into the drama block to smoke a roll up. It made me even sicker. I came back, I took my tie off, and then my jumper.         ‘Where’s your tie?’ said Mr. Clumper.        ‘I don’t feel well, you don’t need to a tie to pass an exam,’ I said.          ‘Rules are rules. Put your tie back on.’ I obeyed. I looked at my friend. He was browsing a revision book. He was going to pass, and well. He never missed a day of school. I was always ill. There was a ruckus, some kid had cracked and had been taken away for fighting. Fighting outside the exam hall, maybe I could get into a fight. But I didn’t like to hurt people with my fists. I would do the exam. They would make me ret...