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A Chequer, a Lyre String and a Football

By @oursilenttomorrows

Stacey stretched  across the pillows and blinked into the shadowy haze of the room.   Her mind flowed over the events of the night before.  Stacey's friend, Irma had finally nailed her man, the swish, slick Keith. High five and all that but Irma had been the one driving.  This left Stacey high and dry; well not too dry after the Prosecco and shots,  but it meant either waiting two hours for a taxi or.....

Keith's pal Laurence, the geeky one, had said she could have a bed for the night.  Well Stacey knew Keith from high school and he said Laurence was cool and she'd be safe, so Stacey agreed.  She had declined the option to stay up and watch a movie,  Jurassic Park hadn't appealed, so she headed straight for bed.  Stacey locked the bedroom door behind her, just in case. 

Stacey vaguely remembered Laurence.  He was a year below her and her class mates.  He was not interesting and a bit weird, a loner; he had won something in archery because the head master had announced whatever it was in assembly.

Stacey flicked on the bedside lamp.  She hadn't taken too much attention of the decor last night.  It was all a bit hippy.  A picture of two hedgehogs on the wall.  A long bow in the corner, two or three old looking stringed instruments and a couple of tom toms. 

Swinging her legs down onto the floor, she stood and grabbed her jeans from the top of the cardboard box near the bed.  Stacy wriggled into them, pulled them up and buttoned up.

Flicking through her mobile she looked for a number to get her out of here.  She tried the door handle, locked!  'Oh, I locked it', she said out loud to herself, turned the key and walked through into the sitting room. 

'Hi'

'Hi', Laurence answered  but he didn't look up. He was fiddling with something. 

'Coffee?' Stacey asked.

I don't drink it' Laurence replied, it's not ethical; there's some green tea in the cupboard if you like.'

Stacey sighed to herself and walked through to get a glass of water, thumbing on her phone for a taxi company, she tripped on a flat football, swore then rang a taxi. Tired, annoyed, coffeeless and obviously not interesting to Laurence who sure wasn't interesting to her. She called through to let him know, 'taxi will be here soon'. 

Stacey took her refreshment back into the sitting room and sat on the sofa.

'Please can you pass me that sting', Laurence asked. 

Stacey looked around for a ball of string. 

'It's on the coffee table' Laurence saw that Stacey was at a loss.  'It's in that small packet, it's a lyre string'

For gods sake, Stacey thought handing Laurence the string, how was I suppose to know that.  She looked around looking for a conversation point whilst wishing the taxi would turn up.  Her weekends were precious.  Selling car insurance on the phone to people was tiring, boring and stressful.  She was in a rut but she had bills to pay like everyone else. 

Her hand strayed onto a chequer, part of a set left out on a chequer board on the table.  She turned it over in her hand.  It was ornately carved with ivy woven around swords.  'So you collect old stringed instruments'?' she enquired making conversation.  

'No, not exactly...', Laurence replied, I make them.  This is a Roman type lyre I've made for a show in the West End.  I prefer the modern lyres like the one over there, more strings'.

'You made all those instruments hanging on the walls?' Stacey asked, like being a craftsman?

'If you like', said Laurence, 'I've a workshop at the end of the garden, I enjoy working with wood.  I can work in my own time and generally I'm not annoyed by people pressuring me.  I'm self employed.'

'Well, that's amazing, you made all these...' she picked up an hour glass dulcimer and heard the notes as her fingers plucked four strings one after another.

'I love the feel of the wood', he told her looking up. 

Stacey was about to speak but his eyes kind of took her by surprise.  She'd never really noticed him before.  Kind eyes, down to earth guy she thought better than some of the creeps out there.  Where she worked they were always trying it on.  'You can't tell me you made that guitar'. 

'The six string  is a copy of a Spanish guitar I made about a year ago.  After school I did an apprenticeship with a guy who specialises in that kind of thing.' He smiled, 'his wife dances flamenco'

'Well I've never tried that' laughed Stacey. 

Laurence started to strum a few notes.

'That's nice' Stacey smiled

As Laurence played he started to sing,

'You say, you're tired of romance
I know the subtle moves of your mind, your mind.
You say, you have your reasons
I know the changing seasons of your love, your love'

"That's nice, I've not heard that before, I guess you wrote it?

'Yes but it's not finished.  I've got a craft fair tomorrow, somewhere to sell my wares; you can come along an help if you'd like to. 

'Yes, oh I've got work......

'Breakfast?' Laurence asked.

A taxi hooted outside. 

'My lift is here'. A silence filled the room. 

'Well I've really got to go now but thank you for letting me stay.  Stacey made for the front door.

'Bye then', Laurence said and began strumming again.  Stacy slipped though and closed the front door behind her. 

After a couple of minutes Laurence was disturbed by a knock at his door. He opened it expecting his Sunday paper.

Stacey stood on the doorstep, 'What's for breakfast then and can we talk about how I can help tomorrow?'



In a box I place for @naomimrshl a chandelier, a Toby Jug and a frisbee :)

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