New day

Just another morning

 

Dawn

 

 

 

I

 

It’s a new dawn,

It’s a New Day,

It’s a new life,

For Me

 

 

 

 

He looks over to the window, gently teasing his body away from the warmth of the duvet. The grey light filters in through the half closed bamboo blind, casting eerie, long shadows along the floor. Yesterdays clothing lies in an untidy pile, strewn along the floorboards, casting their own shadows in the half light. The cold of the new day makes his sleep warmed skin tingle. He should have set the heating before he went to bed. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

 

It is quiet. Too late or too early for the dawn chorus he wanders, smiling to himself. He lifts the duvet a little more to reveal the pretty mousey brunette sleeping soundly next to him. Taking a long hard look at his watch and scratching his two day old stubble with his hand, he places a hand on her shoulders. Her skin feels smooth and silky under his fingertips. He strokes her small face with the front of his fore finger, tracing the angles of her cheekbone to her chin. Watching her closed eyes and nose crease at the corners as she slowly awakens to his touch.

 

“Hey, wake up babe. We slept in again, the alarm failed us.”

 

Looking at her laying there like a child, completely oblivious to the world around her, he feels protective; and a stirring in his chest tells him, like every morning, he does not want to be without this woman. He loves watching her wake up, almost as much as he loves watching her fall asleep.

 

She opens her eyes slowly, smiling gently and rolling to her back with a stretch.

 

“Hmmm, is it really morning already? Feels like we just went to bed”

 

She lazily rolls back into the foetal position under the duvet, adamant that a morning this grey can not really be morning at all. It would probably be a big hilarious mistake and he will have checked the time incorrectly, or his watch has stopped; something likes that. She certainly doesn’t feel as if she’s had a full night of sleep.

 

Sliding his arms under hers, he lifts her up from her huddle under the duvet to face him. He studies her face; large brown eyes, high cheekbones and an impish grin. Sliding her slender arms around his neck, she studies him; intriguing dark blue eyes, dark hair, unkempt of course, square jaw and unusually full lips for a man. Pulling him closer, she teases those lips for a second under hers. Brushing his lower lip gently smiling against it.

 

“Morning love”

 

He smiles and wraps his strong arm around her pulling her close to his warm skin positioning her on his chest, kissing her with a typical morning passion.

 

“Good Morning”

 

She purrs gently, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. His nose is cool against her warm lips. She looks into his eyes, at her own reflection. His dark lashes beat and she kisses his brow there, just where his skin creases as he thinks.

 

“Are we ludicrously late, or can the world spare us another five minutes?”

 

She does not wait for an answer. She knows that he will abide by her little plan happily. So, she places her full lips on his, pressing herself down on him, teasing his tongue with her own, pulling her slim leg up to his hip, encompassing him in her warmth.  He pulls her closer, feeling his heart beating quicker in his chest, knowing that if they are ever going to get to work on time, they need to leave as soon as they can, but he gives in, returning her kiss. He stirs; this is a great way to wake up.

 

She giggles at her effect on him. Men are such strange animals. She looks down at him with a grin, if she doesn’t stop teasing she knows full well, they will spend another hour in bed, enjoying one another’s company.

 

“Shower?”

           

She teases, raising her eyebrow as she steps into the morning cold. He sighs deeply, as he gains control of himself. His voice breaks as he talks, and he grittily clears his throat.

 

“Try and stop me.”

 

He sits on the side of the bed, letting the atmosphere of the bedroom encompass him. He laughs internally, he should know better by now, how she teases him to the point of distraction and then goes for a shower. He feels the dull thud of his heart beat slow a little.

In the quiet he can hear the dull thud against his ribs. He looks at the bedside table, and decides that the room needs a little noise. Leaning over he turns on the radio. This is what he usually does in the morning. The golden oldies give the right ambience to start the day. And he knows she sings to them in the shower.

 

He flicks the switch, and the bright blue neon face of the digital radio comes to life. It looks like one of the radios’ his dad collected, but with a Millennium twist. It’s digital and has blue neon bits. He frowns. Did he turn the volume down? There is no noise. Picking up the radio and fiddling with the volume switch, he listens intently. It’s as loud as it will go, he is sure of that. There is a background noise; a faint cackle behind the sound of electricity feeding the neon light. He places the radio against his ear listening past the buzz. What is that noise?

 

“No tunes this morning?”

 

She shouts at him from the bathroom and turns on the shower.

 

He removes the radio from his ear and gives it a good shake. Still there is nothing but a slight electrical buzz.

 

“Bloody thing’s broken.”

 

He shrugs and turns the radio off, placing it back a little roughly on the cabinet. Stupid modern things. His dad’s old transistor radios may not have produced the purest of sounds but at least they always worked. The more neat things to play with the more there is to go wrong with them.

 

He stands up and walks through to the bathroom. The hot steam of the shower warming his cool skin.

 

“Al, can you pass me the body wash honey? I got in without checking again.”

 

He looks around the bathroom. She has left it on the sink, as usual. He listens to her singing some old Al Greene song. How someone can be so cheerful in the morning he’ll never know. He playfully pulls back the shower curtain, taking stock of her under the steam jet. Watching pearls of water accumulate at the small of her back. Running down her smooth skin in rivers, accentuating her curves.

 

She turns her head to look at him, again looking at her. She knows he loves watching, and she smiles ruefully grabbing her body wash, playing the shy girl she was before he came along.

 

“Al? Are you coming in?”

 

She asks mischievously, her back still turned to him; she places some of the wash on a flannel and bends down to wash her legs.

 

“Bee, you are such a tease. You should be made illegal. Either that or carry a government health warning!”

 

He laughs and shakes his head again raising his hand to his stubble.

 

“No time, babes. I’ll have a quick shave and get dressed and fix us something to eat before we run?”

 

He closes the shower curtain on her as she resumes her song. Turning to face the bathroom mirror, he wipes away the condensation with one large arc.  Normally, he makes no time to look at his own reflection. This morning however, he inclines his head to the left as his hand works away a sleepy knot in his neck.

 

Ali Crawford looks back at him. Twenty eight years old, junior investment banker for the Countries leading bank in the City of London. No one extraordinary, he smiles. He likes being normal. Quickly smothering his face in shaving foam he thinks about how they met as he pulls the razor expertly over his face.

 

 

 

 

*********

 

 

 

 

It was Christmas, a few years ago. He was on the way to the Christmas party, but as always with parties, he knew that half the women there only wanted to know him tonight for one reason only. Women who worked in high level jobs tended to be predators. He didn’t mind so much, but most of them were above him in the company, and he didn’t think that sleeping with one of them was the way to go in terms of his career. He sincerely wanted to do well on his own two feet.

 

So wrapped up in his own little world, he was oblivious to what was going on around him, until a shout stunned him out of his daydream.

 

“Stop him; the little arse has my bag!”

 

She had kicked off her heels and was running after the youth in her party dress. Hair flowing out behind her as she sprinted, her hands balled into a fists. And everything had gone slow motion in his brain.

 

“Well don’t just stand there limp dick! Get him!!”

 

She whizzed past following the youth.

 

Did she just call me limp dick? Was the first thought that went through his head. Before he turned and ran for the bag snatcher. Having run for his school and University, catching the thief was no problem. As soon as he was within tackling distance the youth threw the sequined clutch at him. And he stood there clutching a ladies night bag catching his breath.

 

She must have arrived just seconds later.

 

“Not bad for a short arse.”

 

He giggled, breathing heavily, handing her the bag.

 

“Not bad for a limp dick. I thought you were just going to stand there mesmerised. What is it with this place and hoodies?”

 

“Welcome to the birthplace of the chav.”

 

She placed her hands on her knees and caught her breath. He noticed her strong accent, then the way her hair curled slightly at the ends. The way her dress clung to just the right curves on her body. He thought about it, just long enough and then thought ‘what the hell?’ before firing the question;

 

“Want a drink? I mean, that must have shaken you up, having your bag taken and all.”

 

Without hesitation she answered.

 

“Why not? Just let me get my shoes and tell the girls. I’ll pay ok?”

 

 

 

 

 

***********

 

 

 

And that was that. Two years on, she is now standing in the shower and he is shaving yesterday’s remains from his skin.

 

He rinses his face, smiles at his reflection and then returns to the bedroom. Opening the wardrobe, he takes his grey pinstripe suit and clean freshly ironed shirt and gets dressed.

 

It’s too quiet in here without music. So he hums along quietly to the old Al Greene that Bee is singing in the shower. Picking up a pair of black socks from the pile on the floor, he sniffs them, shrugs and carries them down the stairs to the kitchen.

 

Surveying the kitchen he switches the old kettle on, puts a few pieces of toast in the toaster, and walks over to the patio door, opening the blinds. It is a grey morning. But in the suburbs, in November, there are many grey mornings. The air hangs heavy here, too many cars and heavy traffic cause the morning fog to be thick and cold. It’s coughing weather again.

 

Putting on his socks clumsily, having to support himself against the wall once or twice, he heads back to the kettle and puts two bags of green tea in the small cups, and pounces on the hot toast from the toaster, spreading it with butter and taking out a big chunk. That’s better…

He thinks a moment, he hasn’t heard the next door neighbour fire his ancient excuse for a car this morning. Maybe he’s ill?

 

It’s too quiet.

 

There is no traffic noise from the street outside. There are still no birds outside saluting the smoky grey haze. The hairdryer switches on upstairs taking his mind off it immediately.

 

Right then, last nights’ premiership league tables. He grasps for the remote and switches on the TV. Now how do you get the scores again?

 

Blue screen stares back at him.

 

He frowns. Come on digital switch yourself on.

 

Blue Screen and silence. Followed by a message.

 

There is a fault on this channel.

 

 He laughs internally. It’s the 21^st Century for Christ sakes, why is nothing working this morning? He shakes his head listening to her quick flighty footfalls on the step.

 

“All better now?”

 

He asks stuffing the remainder of the toast into his mouth.

 

“Well, sort of. Hey? Where’s mine?”

 

She pouts playfully. He knows full well she isn’t a toast for breakfast kind of girl. She grabs an apple from the fruit bowl and stares outside into the murk.

 

“Nice weather we're having again. Do you think we can have a holiday this year? Please? I’m fed up of looking at the same old dull scenery every day.”

 

He studies his watch.

 

“If you want that holiday we better be off, or were going to get a dock in pay!”

 

She giggles and kisses him before running to fetch her work bag and coat.

 

“Want me to drive?”

 

He ties his laces and straightens his tie.

 

“Sure thing today seems a good day to die.”

 

She studies her reflection in the mirror and he playfully grabs her waist and tucks his head behind hers resting it on her shoulder. They study each other once more, finally, before she grabs the keys and heads outside.

 

The silence of the suburbs is stunning and they both look at each other a little perplexed.

 

“It’s so quiet. Are you sure it’s time for work? Clocks didn’t go forward a few months early and no one told us?”

 

Bee asks before unlocking the red VW Golf, and making a quick march directly for the drivers’ side.

 

“Yeah, eight twenty, look? They didn’t change the date of the clock changing or anything did they?”

 

Laughing at his own private joke, he points at his watch and looks up at the telephone wire above.

 

“At least were in good company, Jesus, have you ever seen a b*****d that big?”

 

Bee looks up to the telephone pole as Ali slides comfortably into the passenger seat. What she sees is an enormous rook, looking back at her with his cold, black eyes; silently watching as they make their way to work.

 

“Ugh, he’s giving me the creeps.”

 

She whispers conspiratorially afraid that she will be overheard by the unwelcome spy.

 

“Let’s go babe, I’m sure we’ll find signs of life closer to town.”

 

She looks around anxiously. There is not even a twitch of the net curtains from next door as she puts the key in the ignition and sparks up the ancient engine with a puff of black smoke. She frowns at Ali, knowing that he can also sense something here is not quite right. She slams the car into first gear, drops the handbrake and heads for the high street.

 

“It’s weird that Patel’s isn’t open yet.”

 

She nods at the small hypermarket on the other side of the road. The large white closed sign hanging on the glass fronted door, metal shutters still pulled tightly down over both of the windows.

 

“Are you sure it’s not six in the morning? It wouldn’t be the first time you woke me up too early!”

 

She giggles as she pulls onto the main street, dodging the parked cars deftly. Bee, fiddles with the radio knob trying to get a signal. Ali presses the CD button. Instant music, the first real life noise of the morning. Bee visibly relaxes behind the wheel as the sounds of Moby fills the car.

 

“So, do you know who you’re seeing today?”

 

He asks as she start humming falsetto to the Baritone of the music.

 

“I’m interviewing some City footballer later who failed a drugs test, but he swears he didn’t take anything. I should be able to make a story about that hopefully. I just hope that something I write makes the front page soon. Maybe then we could pay a lump off the mortgage.”

 

He laughs at her satire. That’s one of the things he loves about her. Her sarcasm is endless. He looks at the suburb slowly turning to greenery. The orange hue of the streetlights, which are beginning to switch themselves off, dissipates as they leave the sleepy suburb for some greenery before the M25. He stares at the road ahead. It is empty, not an unknown for this time in the morning. Not a lot of people commute into the suburbs by car. There are very few jobs in their little town to attract a workforce. But he is sure that they pass at least one or two cars on the way in usually. He taps his fingers on his knee in time to the music, beginning to feel a little nervous.

 

She looks at his fingers and then returns her concentration to the road.

 

“If you get that bonus at work next week, we could go and see Wicked if you like? Ali? Are you with me or with the Woolwich?”

 

He shakes his head, and winks at her. He knows that she is the one who’s been wanting to see it for a while, but that said bonus is just an excuse for him to treat her to a night on the west end. He knows it will earn him brownie points and he wants a night out with the boys in a few weeks time. Suitably distracted he returns his gaze to the road. There are a multitude of leaves on the road.

 

“Are we taking the tube in Madame? Or do you perchance have a place to park by the office this morning?”

 

He tightens his muscles as she increases the speed from comfortably quick to ludicrously fast. She drives too quickly, but this is a trait of a confident driver. He hopes she’s not over confident.

 

“Shall we drive in? Have you got enough on you for the congestion charge? I have my parking pass on me I can park under the office; there should be a place for me since we seem to be amazingly early. You and that stupid Tag watch. Sell it and we can go to Egypt for a few days.”

 

She giggles knowing that his Tag is his pride and joy. A graduation gift from his father. Hell will freeze over before he sells this little trinket. He is not a material man by any means, but the watch is special, like an extension of himself.

 

Bee takes a look at the rear view mirror and notices nothing is behind her. She has convinced herself that he has the time wrong, it’s got to be very early morning, but she’s resigned to the fact that she has a story to research and that her football knowledge really needs some work. Why did they choose her for this story anyway? Probably because a City footballer would be more forthcoming with a good looking lady journo. She sighs and shrugs. Deep in thought that the paper is once again using her as eye candy rather than the serious journalist she longs to be. She would have to chose sport journalism. Full of old coots and pricks.

 

She loves the build up to London City, the smog that hovers over the City and clings to the skyline. The way it burns red when the summer sun hits the sky. The skyline itself with all its tall angular buildings, mixed in with historical monuments. The old and modern intertwined together, the ultimate paradox all within a radius of 25 miles.

 

She looks at Al in the passenger seat, far away in his own little world. Returning to the road she notices that she is only half a mile away from the turnoff for the M25, and she hasn’t seen a car so far. They must be epically early. By now at rush hour the cars are almost nose to bumper, it is usually mad on this stretch of road. She takes the flyover over the motorway, which is also quiet. Even Al is torn out of his daydream. He gapes at the four empty lanes.

 

“It’s not usually this quiet, what’s going on?”

 

He stares in disbelief at the empty road.

 

“Who turned the busiest motorway in the Great British Isles into a grave yard?”

 

She slows down on the slip lane and takes a moment to think. Something here is off. There is no way even at six in the morning that this road would be this quiet. There are usually delivery vans, Lorries, other commuters; anything at all crammed together on this one road. She stops the car pulling over into the hard shoulder, just in case. Bee steps out onto the tarmac and listens.

 

Nothing but silence.

 

“What’s going on here? Listen Al, just listen; what do you hear?”

 

He steps out of the car, and joins her on the tarmac, holding her hand and listening intently. He looks at Bee, her face perplexed, deep in thought. There is nothing, apart from the caw of a rook in the distance.

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Ok, has had a lot of edits, I really would appreciate your time in reading and any assassinations of my character building!!

Reviews

[Tea And A Cheshire Smil..]

Excellent write! This piece captured my attention and held it all the way through :) Wonderful work.

[RDOriginal]

This is good, very good. I'm deadly serious! Please tell me that there's more as I've been pulled in now and I want to know what happens.

I really like the way you slowly introduce the 'weirdness' into this. As we're focusing on the characters like them we miss some of the early pointers until it becomes impossible to ignore.

I've had a good rummage through this and I can't find any weak points other than the localism that a more wide-spread audience might not pick up on, "are you with the Woolwich?".

The character development is good with the inclusion of the couples meeting. Will we found out something darker later? We seem to have a white knight and a perfect woman in a blissful relationship. That's good to start with but I don't know how far it can run (you probably know this anyway, just thinking out loud again).

When you post more I beseech you not to post a spoiler. Nothing is worse than the blurb on the back of a book or a cinema trailer that lets all of the cats out of the metaphorical bag!

[Ruth]

Excellent work
Vivid and really well worded love:)
Interaction between the characters is beautifully done, all in all hon, I would say this is excellent!
xx

[R E Tree]

This is a wonderful chapter. I love the description in this it gives good clear imagery to my head from the beginning to the end. I adore the romantic scenes there so sweet. I can see some character building in that I do feel the characters are deeply in love with each other. I can tell the man likes the woman more as I enjoyed the scene of him studying the womans face. I just love how the couple talk to each other it's so romantic just like every couple should be.

[anonymouswriter]

dude that was awesome!