The Anniversary Stories Read Online Free PDF Page A

to think up surprises for you on our anniversaries.”
    “Maybe next year you should
come as yourself.  I quite like the real you.”
    “Maybe I will...or maybe I’ll
be Mrs Thompson.
    “Helen, she’s at least
ninety!”
    “Yes, and I’m sure that she
could teach you a thing or two.”
    “You little minx!  Come here
and I’ll teach you several things!” he threatened, reaching for her.
    Avoiding his hands, she
screamed, jumped off the settee and raced towards the bedroom.
    With his much longer legs he
caught her in a couple of strides.  Lifting her bodily, he tossed her onto the
bed, the look of a man intend on punishing a naughty wife on his face.
    *****

It’s Good to be Neighbourly!
    T aking a careful sip from the oversized
mug cradled between his palms, John Elliott sighed in contentment as he gazed
out through the opened kitchen door.  Freshly brewed coffee and a chance to
drink to the last drop without any interruptions or distractions from his
noisy, playful, demanding twins.  Heaven on earth!
    He was on his first real
vacation in nearly seven years and he’d already vowed that it wouldn’t be his
last.  The business was doing well; it was time he enjoyed the fruits of his
labour.  A few noses had been put out of joint when he had announced that he
was taking a three-month vacation and leaving Carl, the second youngest of his
bus drivers, as Office Manager.  One of the other drivers had sniggered
knowingly, but John had refused to acknowledge the inference that the openly
gay young man was more to him than just an employee.  It was a business he had
worked hard to turn around.  He couldn’t afford to be sentimental—if he left
any of the others in charge he would constantly worry that things weren’t
running smoothly.  Carl was resourceful enough to handle minor emergencies, but
had the acuity to call if a situation arose that needed John’s expertise.
    The first two days of his
break had been tough.  Helen, John’s wife, should have been off too, but at the
last minute her employer had asked her to postpone the start of her leave
because the young man they had recruited to cover her absence had had to work a
longer notice period than anticipated for his previous employer.  And with his
seven-year-olds, Tim and Tina, on school holidays but spending a week with his
sister Susan, John had had the house to himself.  Used to dealing with a dozen
or more emergencies daily, he had found it hard to adjust to the slower pace of
life and had desperately looked for tasks to occupy the hours.  But, by the
third day he had gotten the hang of being idle.
    Remembering that he hadn’t
yet read the newspaper delivered that morning, he turned and walked through the
house to the living room.  The neatness of the room gave him an unexpected
pang—the twins were mini tornadoes, leaving mayhem and destruction in their
wake—the room seemed sterile without them.  Shaking his head to clear the
feeling of loneliness, he took the newspaper out of the magazine rack where
Helen had placed it earlier and settled into his favourite chair, a wide
buff-coloured leather recliner.
    “Is there any more coffee?”
    Engrossed in the newspaper,
John started at the sound of his next door neighbour’s voice.
    “Sure,” he replied, smiling
across at the West Indian woman as he folded The Times over at the
sports section and placed it and his half-empty coffee mug on a small side
table and got to his feet.
    “No gardening today?” she
asked over her shoulder as she preceded him to the kitchen.
    “Not today,” he responded.
    Florence and her husband, Sydney, had moved next
door the previous summer, but until last week John had not exchanged more than
a dozen words with her.  He had once invited Sydney to the local pub for a
couple of pints, but finding that he and the man had little in common hadn’t
extended another invitation.
    Helen and Florence on the
other hand, had instantly become good friends.  The woman