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The Developer

Page 5

But she had her little seat in the garden, down in the corner of the yard. A little spot, quiet, in fact you would not know she was there. A seat, a cushion, a wisteria hanging low, a soft place, a quiet place.

“Keep the home fires burning, while your heart is yearning” she hummed quietly to herself on the autumn morning. “Till the boys come home again”

And what joy it must be to have a man come home to you. To want you, to need you. I’d even let him drag me off to bed, putting up a bit of a struggle, she thought to herself. I’m sure they are like that, some men, just once would be nice.

Men change, that’s what they do, she thought. Not for the better, sometimes not even for the worse. But age changes them; they become sort of different, sort of indifferent to the little things going on around them. Important things, things that really matter to someone else. Someone who has feelings, wants and needs of their own, real deep feelings of their own.

So what will I do? thought Mrs Thorneycroft. She liked the spot in the garden, down there in the corner. She could think things, see things, little insects going about their business across the ground, rushing here and there. And in the quiet mornings there were birds. She did not bother much with names, she just liked to see them, hear their soft whistle as they worked away in the low bushes. This is what Mrs Thorneycroft liked to do. She liked to sit, needed to sit, to be quiet. No noise now, no rantings, no rages, screams, yelling, rantings about this and that and all the things about childhood. None of that, just quiet.

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