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Post by PamA on Oct 24, 2005 14:51:09 GMT 1
Prologue
“Sarah, this is Pandora Wilson, the work experience girl. Pandora, this is Sarah Finch, the practice receptionist, she’ll be looking after you while you’re here.” Julia smiled at the young girl standing next to her. If Julia were to be totally honest, Pandora wasn’t quite what she’d expected. The girl had a very sullen face; a face that looked like it had most definitely not been designed to smile. Pandora’s blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, so tight it seemed to cause her eyebrows to be raised in a perpetual expression of astonishment. Nor was she dressed in the manner of a would-be Doctor’s receptionist. Her denim skirt was short, very short, so short that Julia decided a discreet word in Sarah’s ear might be called for, that word being “don’t let her bend over!” A tracksuit top zipped up to the neck topped off the skirt. It was a size too small so that it pulled tightly across her rather ample chest. Large hoop earrings adorned her ears; so large that Julia imagined small parrots would look quite at home sitting in them! “Sarah, could I have a quick word with you?” Julia beckoned Sarah over to the other side of the reception area. “Excuse us a minute.” Julia said to Pandora, who was, by this time, busy examining her nails. “Sarah,” Julia said in a low voice, “ Can you speak to her about her clothes? Diplomatically, of course. It’s just you are closer in age. She might listen to you.” “I’ll see what I can do.” Sarah looked across at Pandora and, with a sigh, added, “No promises though. You know Julia, don’t you think she looks a bit like Vicky Pollard?” “Vicky who?” Julia replied. “Vicky Pollard, `Little Britain’.” Sarah explained. “Sorry, Mac and I never watch it. You’d better get back to her before she runs out of nails to look at.” Julia said dryly. “Any problems, I’ll be in my office.” With that, Julia turned and walked away and Sarah made her way back to the reception desk. “So,” she said to Pandora, “you want to be a Doctor’s receptionist.” “Not really,” Pandora replied, “I actually want to be a supermodel but me teacher said it was impossible to get work experience for that, so she suggested I go to a supermarket and stack shelves, but I said `no way’, and she said `so what do you want to do’ and I said `I dunno’, then I heard Melanie Bright say she wanted to work at a Doctor’s, like as a Doctor, so I said I wanna work at a Doctor’s an all, but Miss said there was no way I’d ever be a Doctor or a nurse so she said why don’t you think a bit lower like a cleaner or something, so I said I’ll go on the desk, so I’m here!” Sarah was so bemused by the eruption of words that had burst forth from Pandora’s mouth, that she could say no more than, “I see.” “So,” Pandora continued, “ what ya want me to do? Answer the phone or somefing?” Sarah inwardly groaned at the thought of Pandora dealing with patients, be it on the phone or face to face. She desperately searched her mind for a task she could give the girl that would not require contact with anyone either side of the reception desk. “Look,” she finally said, “Why don’t you just sit there and observe for today.” Sarah said then, in a sudden burst of inspiration, added, “I know what. I’ll give you a pad and pen and you can take notes and at the end of the day we’ll go over them and, um, see what you, um er, understand about the role of a Doctor’s receptionist!” The last few words tumbled out in a rush. Sarah sighed deeply and smiled to herself, rather pleased with the sudden stroke of genius that had given her the idea of how to keep the girl occupied and no immediate threat to the well-being of the practice, the patients or the staff. Mid-morning, Julia came to relieve Sarah so she could have her morning break. “How’s it going?” Julia whispered. Sarah simply raised her eyebrows. “I see,” Julia said with a wry smile. “Go and have your coffee and, Sarah, remember what I asked you to do earlier.” Sarah smiled and nodded, “I’ll do my best Julia.” Sarah and Pandora made their way to the staff-room. “Right, Pandora, what will it be? Tea? Coffee?” “Neither thanks. I’ve got me own drink.” Sarah turned to look at Pandora. Pandora was rifling through the most capacious bag that Sarah had ever seen. Oddly enough, though, she couldn’t recall seeing Pandora with it earlier. Out of the depths of the bag came numerous items: a make-up bag, a box of tissues, a torch, a pair of tights, brush and comb, mirror and a pair of, what appeared to be, slippers. The items were deposited one by one on to the floor. “Ah! Here it is!” Pandora held aloft a can of Pepsi-cola that she placed carefully on to the table by her side. She delved once more into the dark recesses of the bag and pulled out one more object. It was a box. A very beautiful box made of wood and inlaid with semi-precious stones. In shape it resembled a small treasure chest with a hinged lid. “What’s that?” Sarah asked curiously. “It’s me box.” Pandora replied. “I can see that.” Sarah responded, “But what’s it for? Why’s it in your bag?” “It has to be with me all the time.” Pandora explained, “It was me Nan’s and she told me never to let it out of me sight.” “But why?” Sarah was becoming more and more curious. “Well,” Pandora said, adopting a slow, patient drawl, “it’s sort of like a magic box.” “A magic box!” Sarah laughed out loud, “Yes, sure Pandora. Magic! What does it do then?” “Well it sort of shows you things.” Pandora picked the box up and turned it round in her hands so that the front of the box was towards Sarah. “Me Nan said it shows you how your life might have gone if you’d made different choices, like, or if you have things you’ve always wanted to do but didn’t, you know, like dreams or things like that.” Sarah looked at Pandora. “You really believe that, don’t you?” “That’s cause it’s true. Why don’t you have a look in it if you don’t believe me.” Pandora held the box out towards Sarah. “I get it,” Sarah said, “I open it and a snake springs out or something like that. I’m not stupid Pandora. You can try your little tricks on someone else!” “It’s no trick. Honest. It can change your life. Make you realise that what you’ve got is real good. Go on, try it.” Warily, Sarah took hold of the box. It was surprisingly light and, in close up, even more beautiful than it had first appeared to be. “Go on. Open it.” Pandora insisted. “Just open it and look inside.” Slowly Sarah raised the lid of the box.
to be continued....................................
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Post by PamA on Nov 2, 2005 10:36:02 GMT 1
Monday am – Sarah’s story
Sarah peered into the box. It was empty; but even as she looked into it, a swirling mist gathered at the bottom. As the mist cleared a picture gradually emerged, until Sarah found herself watching a scene of her life, a life that she might have lived if things had gone differently. .....................................................................................
Sarah surveyed the wreckage of what had once been her kitchen. The sink was piled high with dishes that had accumulated throughout the day. The worktops were covered in a variety of cans, empty crisp packets and chocolate bar wrappers. A carrier bag full of kitchen rubbish lay out of view just inside the door, so that Sarah’s foot came unsuspectingly into contact with it as she entered the kitchen, strewing stinking garbage all over the floor. Tears of anger pricked at Sarah’s eyes. The last things she needed was to come home to this mess. She was tired and all she wanted to do was make herself a hot drink and go to bed. The tears of anger rapidly turned to tears of self-pity and the kitchen became for her a symbol of her life. Taking a deep breath she cried out, “Nathan!” In no time Nathan was at her side. “Oh, you’re back love,” he said and leant forward to kiss her on the cheek. Sarah moved her head to one side so that his lips ended up kissing the air. “Sorry about the mess,” he apologised, “but I’ve had a really busy day.” “Doing what?” Sarah looked at him in disbelief. “You don’t have a job if you remember!” “Yeah, well, I took the kids to school, dropped the twins over at your mum’s and then went to the Job Centre.” Nathan explained. “Well, that accounts for one hour,” Sarah said sarcastically, “what about the rest of the day? Don’t tell me – you’ve done the washing and ironing, hoovered, dusted, cleaned the bathroom, bit of gardening maybe?” “Not exactly.” Nathan looked sheepish. “I had some mates round to watch the tape of last night’s match.” “You what?” Sarah screamed at him. “I’ve been working my fingers to the bone doing two jobs whilst you’ve sat on your fat backside doing nothing! I don’t believe you sometimes. I thought marriage was meant to be a partnership, but ours is a bit one-sided. Sarah works all day in a supermarket, all evening on cleaning jobs, Nathan, now let me think, what does Nathan do exactly?” Sarah paused, biting on her bottom lip and looking skyward as if for inspiration before shouting, “ Nothing!” “Shall I make you a cup of tea love?” Nathan said pleadingly, trying to get back into his wife’s good books. “I’ll clear this up tomorrow. Promise.” “You’ll clear it up tonight. I’m not getting up in the morning to face this mess. And, yes, in answer to your question, I will have a cup of tea. I’ll be in the living-room, with my feet up.” Sarah marched out of the kitchen, head held high, pausing only to look at herself in the hall mirror. The face that stared back had its fair share of fine lines and her hair was in urgent need of attention. “Is this really me?” she said to herself, “Is this really the Sarah that was once a receptionist in a Doctor’s Practice?” That all seemed so long ago now – 8 years and 5 children ago to be exact and, if she wasn’t very much mistaken, number 6 could be on the way. She made her way into the living-room and practically threw herself into the only armchair that was clear of rubbish. “I can’t believe I envied Tasha when it was her Nathan wanted.” She thought to herself, “She’d be welcome to him now. If it wasn’t for the kids........” She often wondered how things would have gone if Tasha had stayed in Nathan’s life or if Nathan had chosen to go away with Ben; and supposing she hadn’t left the Mill and Nathan hadn’t lost his job. How different her life might have been if they’d all made different choices. “If only,” she thought to herself and, with a sigh, she closed her eyes. ....................................................................................... “Sarah, do you take sugar in your coffee?” Sarah was startled and hastily shut the lid of the box. "You alright?” Pandora asked. “Did you see somefink in there?” “I’m fine,” Sarah replied. “I’m really fine. In fact, Pandora, my life couldn’t be better!” And she gave Pandora a beaming smile. “You did see somefink, didn’t you?” Pandora persisted but Sarah wouldn’t be drawn on the matter and simply said, “That’s for me to know. Now back to work Pandora.” To which comment Pandora muttered, “Do we ‘ave to!” and reluctantly followed Sarah back to reception. By lunchtime everyone had commented on how happy Sarah appeared to be. Sarah was a generally cheerful girl, but today she wore a permanent smile that even charmed some of the more difficult patients. Ronnie arrived late morning to take George out to lunch. “Sorry Ronnie,” Sarah told him, “George is still with a patient. Why don’t you go and wait in the staff-room. Actually,” she leant across the desk to whisper in his ear, “there’s a box in there that might interest you.” Ronnie looked puzzled. “A box?” “It belongs to Pandora.” Sarah indicated towards Pandora who was sitting doodling on the pad she’d been given. “Our work experience girl.” She added by way of explanation. “And, what exactly is in this box?” Ronnie asked. “Well, it’s kind of magic. Sort of shows you an alternative life you might have lived.” Sarah explained. “I'm sure it does!” Ronnie replied with a patronising smile and made his way through to the staff room. The box lay where Sarah had left it. Ronnie walked around it, picked it up, examined it from every angle before opening the lid and peering inside.
to be continued...........................
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Post by PamA on Nov 7, 2005 13:14:54 GMT 1
Monday lunchtime – Ronnie’s story
Ronnie carefully examined the inside of the box. It was empty. “Nice one, Sarah,” he said to himself, and laughed for even harbouring the thought that there could be such a thing as a box that showed you how your life might have been. He was just about to close the lid, though, when a small movement caught his eye. A tiny cloud seemed to be forming in one corner of the box and, as he watched, the cloud seemed to spin across from one corner to the other. Puzzled he took a closer look at the bottom of the box and saw a picture start to form.
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It was many years since Ronnie had last visited Letherbridge, and he wouldn’t be there today if a chance meeting with an old law colleague hadn’t resulted in an invitation to lunch in what had once been the Letherbar. It was now known as Oscar’s and sold fancy French food at extravagant prices. Ronnie arrived to be told that his lunch companion was running late but would be with him as soon as possible. An elegant waiter directed Ronnie to one of the booths that lined the wall opposite the bar. Each booth could accommodate 4 persons and comprised of a table and two padded benches. Ronnie sat and ordered himself a whisky and lemonade to drink whilst waiting. The booth restricted his view of the restaurant but he could see in the mirror, that filled the wall at the back of the bar, the reflection of the two women who occupied the booth immediately behind him. They were faces he hadn’t seen for almost thirty years, and he cursed himself for not taking into account the possibility of their presence here. Unwittingly he’d drawn himself as far back into the seat as he could, worried that they might spot him. “Was it likely, though,” he thought to himself, “that they would recognise me.” He recalled how he’d examined himself in the bathroom mirror this morning. His hair had once been thick and dark now, what was left of it was grey, almost white. “No,” he decided, “they wouldn’t give me a second glance.” He suddenly realised that he could, if he listened very carefully, just about make out what they were saying. “So, you’re spending Christmas with Clair and her lot,” he heard a familiar voice say.” “Yes,” her companion replied. “It will be fairly manic, I imagine. Clair always end up inviting just about everyone she knows, and the kids invite friends over and it soon turns in to absolute bedlam!” “Will Dan be there?” “Doubt it. He’s working over Christmas. He thinks the hospital will fall apart without him.” The two women laughed. “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it Helen, you and me grandmothers, Dan a doctor, Clair with three children, where have all the years gone.” Helen laughed, “Don’t remind me! Anyway, what about you – your two have been pretty prolific breeders. How many grandchildren now? Eight isn’t it?” “And number nines on the way! “ “And I suppose there’ll all be with you over Christmas.” Helen remarked, “How does Dougie cope with them all being there?” “Dougie? He loves it. I mean we’d have had more than two children if we could but it just didn’t happen for us, worse luck.” “Do you ever hear anything of Ronnie?” Helen asked, and Ronnie found himself listening even harder. “Not really. I know he remarried after our divorce but I heard through the grapevine that the marriage broke up a few years ago. As far as I know, he’s on his own now.” “Regrets?” Helen asked. “Me? About Ronnie? Once,” George replied, “but not any more. We’re happy, Dougie and me, and I love my family. Being a mother is the best thing that ever happened to me.” “I know,” Helen said gently, then hurriedly added, “Now, let’s get out of here and get down to some serious shopping.” Ronnie watched as they left. George was still a stunning woman even though she was well in to her sixties. To his amusement she was still dressed in her floaty, hippy clothes, still wore her long hair in a braid, around which she’d woven brightly coloured ribbons. He saw her pause and, just for a moment, their eyes connected in the mirror. He quickly turned away and when he looked back Helen and George had gone. He sat, alone, sipping his drink, remembering the bitter rows, George’s desire for a child, his stubbornness that wouldn’t even allow him to consider the idea; and then that final argument, George’s ultimatum – “give me a child or go!” and he had gone. For so long he’d waited for her to call him, admit she was wrong, beg him to come back, but it hadn’t happened and, before he knew it, divorce papers had landed on his desk. And, oh, how he’d regretted it, regretted the stupid pride that wouldn’t allow him to go crawling back to her. He would give anything, absolutely anything, he admitted to himself, to be in Dougie’s place, to be still married to George, children and grandchildren filling their lives. He had been so wrong. He had given up the love of his life only to end his days as a bitter, lonely old man. He closed his eyes, savouring the image of his darling George.
........................................................................................................................................... “`Ere, you. Give us me box!” Ronnie hurriedly closed the lid of the box and handed it to its errant owner. “Me Nan would turn in her grave if she knew I’d let it out of me sight.” Pandora took the box and, with head held high, marched back to reception passing George on the way. George gave Ronnie an enquiring look and mouthed, “Who’s she?” “That is Pandora, your work experience girl,” Ronnie explained. “So what was with the haughty look?” George asked. “I’ll explain later,” Ronnie smiled, “but for now Mrs. Woodson I would just like you to know that I love you very much and I think we should have lots more babies!” George looked at him in amazement. “What’s brought this on?” Ronnie took her in his arms and nestled his head in her hair. “It’s a long story,” he said, “It all began with a box. I’ll tell you the rest during lunch.”
In reception, Pandora was carefully stowing the box back in her voluminous handbag. “You’ve done it now Sarah,” she said accusingly, “telling him about me box. It will soon get round and they’ll all be wanting a look.” Sarah wasn’t sure but just for a moment she thought she saw a sly smile flicker across Pandora’s face.
to be continued....................
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Post by PamA on Nov 15, 2005 9:40:31 GMT 1
Monday pm– Greg’s story - Part One
“Cor, he’s nice!” Sarah looked up to see just who it was that had elicited such an animated response from Pandora. “That’s Greg,” Sarah told her, “Dr. Robinson to you. And he certainly wouldn’t be interested in you!” “What, you think I’m too young for him?” Pandora pouted. Sarah wasn’t sure whether she did so to show she was sulking, or whether it was to look more provocative. Either way, the result was grotesque and Sarah was hard put not to laugh. “Wrong sex,” she explained. “You mean he’s a, a........”Pandora appeared to be lost for words but stared intently at Greg as he walked towards the reception desk. “You must be Pandora,” he said to her. “I’ve been hearing all about you. Let’s see it then.” “See what?” Pandora asked still staring intently at Greg. “Why, the box, of course!” Greg elucidated. “I’ve been hearing all about it.” Pandora glared at Sarah who looked innocently back at her. “Is there anyone you ain’t told?” she asked, but even as she spoke she reached in to the depths of her enormous handbag and brought it out. “Is that it?” Greg looked disappointed. “What ya expect?” Pandora asked irritably, “A full size suitcase or somefink?” She made to take the box back from Greg but he, laughingly, pulled his arm back so that the box was out of her reach. “You’re telling us that this box can reveal things about how our life might have gone if we’d made different choices.” Greg grinned at her. “Or if your daydreams came true.” Pandora elaborated. “And Sarah and Ronnie fell for it!” Greg’s grin spread to a full-blown laugh. Sarah smacked his arm. “Enough of that Greg. If you don’t believe us, try it for yourself!” “Yeh, go on try it.” Pandora agreed. “Alright, I will.” Greg opened the box and peered inside. “What am I looking for?” he asked as he looked in to what appeared to be an empty box. Even as he spoke, he felt himself being drawn deep in to the box.
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“Okay. We have Susie from Coventry on line one? Hello Susie. What’s your question for Doctor Greg?” “Hello Doctor Greg.” A young woman’s voice came over the line. “Hello Susie. What did you want to ask?” “Um, well, I’m going on holiday to Turkey in a few weeks and I wanted to know if there’s any risk of getting a blood clot on the flight.” “Right Susie.” Greg smiled in to the camera. “We’re talking deep vein thrombosis here. The risk on a short flight is minimal but anyone going on a long haul flight, to say Australia, needs to be well informed about the risks and what can be done to prevent a clot forming. However, even on a short flight it’s advisable to move around a little if you can, or, failing that tighten the calf muscles a few times to help keep circulation moving, you can do that whilst sitting. Does that answer your question?” “Yes thank you.” Susie replied, then added, “Um, is it possible to have a photo of you please?” “Of course.” Greg did his winning smile, the one that all the housewives in Britain thought was specially for them. “Bye Susie.” “Bye”. “Well, that’s all we have time for today. Time goes fast doesn’t it Greg?” “It certainly does.” Greg said in agreement. “We’ll be back Thursday to answer more of your problems. I’ll be looking at the latest fashion trends.” “And I’ll be taking calls on problem pregnancies.” Greg added. “Till then, it’s goodbye from me.” “And from me too.” In his earpiece Greg could hear the director say, “Roll credits.” With a sigh of relief Greg turned to Bunty his co-presenter and said, “Thank goodness that’s over.” “I though it went rather well,” Bunty said slightly aggrieved at Greg’s attitude. Sometimes she found it difficult to keep up the jovial onscreen personality that everyone associated with her, and she certainly found it difficult to maintain the bonhomie that she enjoyed with Greg on screen once the cameras stopped rolling. Initially they had been great mates until Bunty, real name Elizabeth, revealed to Greg that she found him very attractive and it wouldn’t do his career any harm to become her lover. As she pointed out to him, she had a great many contacts in the business that could do a lot for a good-looking young Doctor like him. Greg had explained, as kindly as he could, that although he realised Bunty was an extremely attractive lady, and many men would leap at the chance to become her lover, he wasn’t one of them. Bunty had tried hard to convince him that one night in her arms and he would never look at another man. Equally, Greg tried his best to convince her that this would never be the case and that he had no desire whatsoever to put it to the test. Ever since then Bunty had been the epitome of friendliness on screen, but left Greg in no doubt that off screen he had made a bitter enemy of her. Greg was not worried about the effect that Bunty might have on his career as he had gained for himself one of the best agents in the business. Marcus Swift had spotted Greg’s potential when he’d featured on a news item about the necessity for the elderly to have flu injections. Marcus Swift, often referred to as swift by name and swift by nature, had rapidly signed him on to his books and almost immediately found him a spot on “Morning People”, replacing the elderly Doctor who had been dealing with health issues for the past 3 years. And the public loved Doctor Greg; in fact they couldn’t get enough of him. Consequently Greg was forever being asked to speak at dinners and luncheons, open fetes, fairs and supermarkets, appear on various talk shows and be a guest on any number of quiz shows. Greg was about to leave the studio when Phillipa McCree, Marcus’s P.A, rang. “Greg, darling, glad I caught you. Need to confirm a few dates with you and add another one to the diary. Friday night we’ve got you a spot on Children in Need.” “Doing what exactly? Greg asked. “A sketch with some Holby City actors. You’ll be starting rehearsals today.” Phillipa replied. “Hang on a minute,” Greg exclaimed, “For one thing I have a dinner date Friday night with Robbie. It’s our anniversary. And another thing, I do have a surgery to attend to as well.” “You’ll have to cancel both I’m afraid. Wait there and I’ll arrange for a car to pick you up to take you to the rehearsal room.” Before Greg had a chance to say more, Phillipa rang off. “Great”, he thought to himself, “ two phone calls to make that are going to make me extremely unpopular. Who should I call first? Robbie or Mac?” After a brief pause he pressed the necessary button on his phone and seconds later heard a familiar voice say, “The Mill Health Centre. How can I help you?”
to be continued...................
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Post by PamA on Nov 19, 2005 11:27:10 GMT 1
Monday pm– Greg’s story Part Two
The silence on the phone made Sarah wonder, for a moment, whether it was a hoax call, but after saying “Hello,” a few times, Greg finally answered. “Sarah,” he said, “something’s cropped up and I’m not going to be able to get in for the rest of the week.” “Don’t tell me,” Sarah said with a sigh, “you need the others to cover your appointments.” “Yes. Sorry Sarah. I know it means extra work for you all but, well, you know how it is.” “Actually Greg I don’t.” Greg winced at Sarah’s tone of voice, as she was so obviously angry with him. Her next words were the ones he’d been dreading for sometime. “And, by the way, Mac wants a word with you.” “Now?” Greg wasn’t altogether surprised about this. “Yes, now. He said if you appeared in person or phoned in he wanted to speak to you. He’s free at the moment, so I’ll put you through.” Sarah didn’t give Greg a chance to avoid speaking to his boss. It seemed that no time at all passed before he heard Mac say, “Greg, we need to speak and I’d rather we do it face to face.” Mac paused before continuing, “Sarah tells me you’re out for the rest of the week.” “Yep,” Greg replied, “I’ve got roped in to doing something on Children in Need.” “Well, yes, that’s an admirable cause but I still would like to speak to you as soon as possible.” “It’ll have to be next week I’m afraid.” “Sorry,” Mac replied, “that won’t do. If you’re busy every day and evening this week then it’s going to have to be early morning. Be here at 7.30 tomorrow.” “7.30!” Greg sounded shocked. “I’m speaking at a dinner tonight and I doubt I’ll get home much before the early hours of the morning.” “Tomorrow. 7.30. Be here.” And with that Mac slammed the phone down. Greg rubbed his hand over his face and swore silently to himself. He’d guessed that confrontation with Mac would be inevitable. He couldn’t deny that his loyalty to the surgery had been severely compromised by his new career in television and radio and, more times than he cared to remember, he’d let his colleagues down and placed an extra workload upon them. Things had been bound to come to a head sooner or later. And now he was also faced with having to phone his partner Robbie and cancel Friday’s plans which, he anticipated, would not make him particularly popular in that area either. He’d met Robbie a year ago at a party given by a mutual friend. It hadn’t exactly been love at first sight but a definite friendship had sprung up between the two as soon as they were introduced. They read the same books, watched the same films, enjoyed the same foods and both even had the same quirky sense of humour. Romance had blossomed very gradually, partly due to Greg’s reluctance to commit, but after six months or so Greg invited Robbie to move in with him. Friday’s celebration of the day they’d met had been planned meticulously over the past few weeks, the restaurant booked after much deliberation of where best to eat and which restaurant served the most superior wine. Taking a deep breath, Greg pressed Robbie’s number and waited for him to answer. Part of him was hoping it would go straight to voice mail and give him a few more hours to work up the courage he needed to tell Robbie of the change of plan. It had become somewhat obvious, of late, that Robbie was getting a trifle fed up with Greg’s celebrity lifestyle that constantly impinged on the time they should be spending together. “Well hi there. What can I be doing for you at this time of day?” Robbie’s cheerful voice answered. “It’s about Friday.” Greg began but before he could continue Robbie interrupted with a “Can’t wait. It’s going to be a night to remember!” “Actually Robbie,” Greg continued, “It’s not.” “Sorry,” Robbie sounded puzzled and then a gradual realisation seemed to dawn upon him. “Greg, don’t tell me you can’t make it. Please don’t let me down.” “I’m sorry Robbie. Something’s come up and we’re going to have to postpone to another day.” Greg said apologetically. “Greg you can’t do this. We’ve looked forward to this night for weeks. You just can’t do this.” “I am really sorry.” Greg tried to placate him. “Sorry is not good enough any more Greg. You’re going to have to choose – me or your telly career – because I’ve had enough Greg, I can’t put up with being let down by you any longer.” Before Greg could reply, Robbie cut off the call and when Greg tried to phone back Robbie didn’t reply. “Damn,” Greg uttered with a sigh. Later that night, when he returned from his speaking engagement, he wasn’t altogether surprised to discover that Robbie had clearly decided to spend the night elsewhere. He would have liked the chance to talk things over face to face but realistically he knew Robbie’s ultimatum was not a petulant reaction to the moment, and he knew he would have to make a choice. Greg lay in his bed unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling as if the answer to his problem lay there. He wasn’t looking forward to the meeting with Mac tomorrow for he guessed that another ultimatum would be laid before him – to be a celebrity, or to be a real Doctor working with real patients that weren’t on the other end of a phone. He turned the choices over and over in his mind – celebrity or Robbie, celebrity or the Mill. He closed his eyes in the vain hope of getting at least a few hours sleep.
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“Greg, it’s Mrs. Johnson on the line.” Sarah said holding the phone out towards him. “Which line?” Greg asked, unaware for a moment that he was back standing in the reception area of the Mill. “What’s the time? Have I missed my meeting with Mac?” “Mac’s got the day off Greg?” Sarah looked puzzled, but suddenly realisation dawned on her and her face broke into an enormous grin. “So, what did you see in box Greg?” Greg looked at her and grinned back. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Now pass me that phone. Oh, and by the way Sarah,” he continued placing his hand over the phone so as not to be heard by the caller, “any extra patients, I’ll take them!” Sarah looked curiously at him. “Let’s hope the effects of the box last, eh Greg?” She smiled at him then turned back to Pandora who was busy examining her nails again. “Right, you,” Sarah said, pointing towards the table on which lay the magazines for patients to read whilst waiting, “can get those magazines tidied.” Pandora walked away and, as she did, Sarah could swear that she heard her say, “Yes but, no but......”
to be continued.....................
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Post by PamA on Nov 22, 2005 14:22:27 GMT 1
Tuesday am – Helen’s story – Part One
“Pandora’s not here yet then?” Julia commented as she walked in to reception. Sarah didn’t reply but simply raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say “What did you expect!” “Did you manage to talk to her about her clothes?” Julia asked, but even as she spoke Pandora made her grand entrance into the Mill dressed in exactly the same clothes she’d worn the day before. “Obviously not.” Julia muttered. “Try and speak to her today Sarah.” “Will do.” Sarah replied though she really didn’t relish the idea of bringing up the subject of dress code to the young girl. “Mornin’,” said Pandora, walking round to where Sarah and Julia stood. “What ya want me to do?” “Why don’t you go and make us some coffee.” Julia suggested, to which Pandora replied, “Right.” and made her way to the staff-room clutching her enormous handbag tightly in her fist. Helen was sitting in the staff-room enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee and flicking through a magazine. Morning surgery would be starting in less than a quarter of an hour and she was enjoying a little peace and quiet before the onrush of patients. “You must be Pandora,” she said, glancing up from the article she’d been about to read. “I’m Helen, Dr. Thompson.” Pandora looked at Helen. “You don’t look much like a Doctor,” she remarked. Helen grinned. “What are Doctors meant to look like?” she asked. “I dunno. Sort of, well, doctorish.” Pandora replied. “Well that makes some sense I suppose,” Helen retorted. “Let’s just hope my patients think I look `doctorish’ or I’ll be in real trouble.” Helen returned to her magazine. “I suppose you’ll wanna look in me box,” Pandora stated. “Box?” Helen looked puzzled then, realising what the girl was talking about, added, “Oh yes - the wonderful box. Not really sure I believe in magic boxes Pandora.” Pandora was busy rooting around in the depths of the vast bag she carried around with her. “`Ere it is!” she said triumphantly, “Go on, take a butchers.” Somewhat reluctantly Helen took hold of the box. “What am I meant to do?” she asked. “Open it and look inside,” Pandora explained. Helen opened it and peered inside. She was about to say, “It’s empty” when she noticed a small movement in one corner. A mist gathered and swirled across the bottom of the box and an image began to form.
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“Morning darling.” Helen sat up in bed. Her husband was standing at her side holding a tray that he’d covered in a white cloth. On the tray she could see a pot of fresh coffee, cup and saucer, jug of cream, two slices of buttered toast, some marmalade and a vase with a red rose in it. “You spoil me,” she said, smiling up at him. “It’s my pleasure.” He bent and kissed her very gently on the lips. “Um,” Helen sighed, “why not come back to bed.” She lifted her arms and placed them round his neck, pulling him down towards her. “Not now,” he pushed her away, “ have your breakfast while it’s warm. I’ll get the kids organised.” Before she could say anything more he’d left the room and, with a sigh, she poured herself a cup of coffee and picked up a piece of toast. He was a good husband, caring and considerate in every way; in fact many women would give their eye teeth to have a husband half as good. How she wished, though, that sometimes he would be a little impulsive, a little less predictable. “Helen,” she told herself, “you are never satisfied!” Hastily she finished her breakfast, showered, dressed and went downstairs. Clair and Dan were sitting at the table eating their breakfast. They seemed unusually quiet this morning and barely reacted to Helen’s cheerful, “Morning!” She ruffled Dan’s hair and kissed his forehead, an action that usually elicited a response of “Mum!” Today he took no notice but continued munching his way through his cereal. Helen sat down at the table and looked searchingly at their faces. “What’s wrong?” she asked, “What’s happened?” Clair looked at her mother and Helen could see she’d been crying. “What is it darling/” she asked and, standing up, made her way round the table and placed a comforting arm around Clair’s shoulders. To her consternation Clair began to cry quietly, her little body shaking as her cry turned to sobs. Helen looked at Dan questioningly. “She’s crying because he said we didn’t do a good enough job tidying our rooms, so he said we can’t go on the trip to the theme park during half term.” Dan glared at his mother. “Why did you have to go and marry him?” He asked, “We were fine before he came along!” “Look after your sister for a minute,” Helen told him, “I’ll go and find out what this is all about.” Helen made her way back upstairs and peered first in to Dan’s room and then in to Clair’s. “Well,” she said to herself, “they look fine to me.” She didn’t realise that she’d spoken out loud until a voice behind her said, “You call that fine? Really Helen you’re far too soft with those children. They need to learn a bit of responsibility and a bit of discipline.” “They’re children!” Helen angrily retorted. “My children! Clair’s in tears and Dan is more resentful of you than ever. We’ll never bond as a family at this rate.” They glared at each other until Helen pushed past her husband and made her way back downstairs to the children. “Sometimes,” Helen thought, “he can be so sweet. Other times I wish I’d never laid eyes on Marc Eliot!”
to be continued.....................................................
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Post by PamA on Nov 27, 2005 17:44:07 GMT 1
Tuesday am – Helen’s story – Part Two
Clair and Dan looked up expectantly when Helen returned to the kitchen. “Well,” Dan said, “did you speak to him?” Helen hardly knew what to say. They were her children and she loved them dearly, but Marc was her husband and she didn’t want to undermine his authority by simply stating that the trip was back on. She knew fatherhood wasn’t proving easy. To suddenly become Dad to two children who were no longer babies had come as a shock to him. It had been a shock, too, for Dan and Clair who’d enjoyed having Helen all to themselves for so long. “Get ready for school,” she finally said, “or you’ll be late. I’ll talk it over with Marc later. Now hurry, your lift will be here any minute.” Even as she spoke, they heard the tooting of a horn outside, the signal that their lift had, indeed, arrived. Dan and Clair scrambled out of their seats and hurriedly picked up their lunch boxes. “Bye Mummy,” Clair said, giving Helen a hasty kiss. Helen hugged her tightly. “It will be alright Clair, I promise.” Her daughter smiled up at her. “Love you Mummy,” she said and Helen replied, “Love you too. Now, off you go!” “Bye Mum,” Dan called out as he headed towards the door. “No Kiss?” Helen called after him and he hastily ran back, gave her a quick peck on the cheek and was gone. Helen loaded their breakfast plates in to the dishwasher then went back up to her bedroom. Marc was making the bed, pulling the bottom sheet until it was taut across the mattress. Helen watched from the doorway as he plumped up the pillows and placed them equidistant at the head of the bed. Marc looked up. “You know, Helen,” he said, “there is more to making a bed than simply pulling the duvet over.” “So I see,” Helen said sarcastically. “You appear to have turned it into an art form.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Marc asked. “It means,” Helen replied, “that no-one is going to see the bed, apart from you and me, so what does it matter if it’s a bit untidy.” “I see where the children get this idea of `if you can’t see it, it doesn’t matter’ from.” Marc replied calmly. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Helen snapped back. “Oh, I think you understand perfectly well.” Marc replied. “Marc, their bedrooms are their territory and as long as they make a reasonable job of tidying things away, the rest is up to them. They’re children, Marc, and childhood doesn’t last that long. And we’ve been planning this trip to Wonderworld for ages. It’s downright cruel to cancel it for such a feeble reason.” “Feeble?” Marc repeated. “I don’t think it’s feeble to not do what you’re told. A bit of discipline is good for them Helen. Disciplined children grow up to be disciplined adults.” “Like you, you mean.” Helen said. “Yes, like me if you like.” Marc agreed. Helen looked at her husband and sighed. She loved him, of that there was no doubt in her mind, but somehow she had to make him understand that discipline wasn’t the be all and end all of existence. “Marc,” she finally said softly, “you’ve been doing so well with the children, really getting on with them, don’t spoil it all now.” “So, you want me to go back on what I’ve said. How do you think they’ll ever look up to me if I do that Helen?” He asked. “I think they just might start to think that you’re not such a bad bloke after all.” Helen smiled at him. “Respect can be earned by showing that you’re not too proud to admit that you may be wrong, you know? It takes a big man to put his pride to one side. The kids were starting to really accept you as part of the family, you don’t want to have to start all over again, do you Marc?” Marc grinned. “You really know how to talk me round don’t you?” Helen smiled back. “Does that mean they can go?” She asked. Marc nodded, “I suppose so. By the way Helen, what time are you due at the surgery?” Helen glanced at her watch. “In about three quarters of an hour,” she replied curiously, “Why?” “Fancy unmaking the bed?” Marc looked at her questioningly. “However do you unmake a bed?” Helen asked smiling seductively at him. “Come over here and I’ll show you.” He held his arms out towards her. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.
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“So you reckon me box don’t work then?” Pandora’s voice broke into Helen’s reverie. Helen took one last look into the empty box before handing it back to its owner. She didn’t bother to reply to the girl but, instead, stood up and made her way out of the staff room. As she made her way to her surgery she was aware of tears running slowly down her cheeks and hastily wiped them away. Mac stopped her. “You all right Helen?” he asked, holding Helen by the arms and looking into her face. Helen took a deep breath before replying. “I’m fine,” she said, “just regretting something, that’s all.” She saw that Mac was about to question her further and hurriedly added, “ I’ll speak to you later.” She pulled herself away from Mac and made her way to her surgery. Mac watched her and wondered just what it was that Helen so bitterly regretted. “Oh well, don’t suppose I’ll ever know,” he thought to himself and made his way to reception. “Any idea what’s upset Helen?” he asked Sarah, who shook her head and said, “No idea. Why?” “Nothing. She just seemed a bit funny that’s all.” “Didn’t like what she saw in me box probably,” Pandora said, holding the box up for Mac to see. “Oh, so this is the famous box!” Mac exclaimed. “Let’s have a look.” Pandora passed it to him.
to be continued................................
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Post by PamA on Dec 1, 2005 18:31:15 GMT 1
Tuesday – lunchtime
Before Mac had a chance to take a proper look at the box, it was snatched unceremoniously from his hands. “Julia!” He exclaimed, “What are you doing?” “Have you forgotten,” Julia replied, “you have to be at the Town Hall for the meeting of the Environmental Health committee in less than 10 minutes.” “Oh, lord,” Mac looked at his watch, “I didn’t realise the time. Thanks for reminding me. Better dash.” Mac said, already on his way back to his office to collect his paperwork. “And you two,” Julia pointed at Pandora and Sarah, “can take your lunch break now. Oh, and Pandora, I think Sarah has something to say to you, don’t you Sarah?” “Do I?” Sarah asked, glaring at Julia. “Yes.” Julia replied emphatically, “You do.” The two girls made their way to the staff room. Pandora retrieved a large lunchbox from the depths of her bag and spread the contents on to the coffee table. “You’re never going to eat all that, surely!” Sarah said in astonishment as she looked at the pile of sandwiches, bags of crisps and chocolate bars that comprised Pandora’s lunch. “You can `ave some if you want,” Pandora told her, indicating the food spread out before her. “You could do with a bit more meat on yer bones, if you ask me.” “Well I didn’t ask you, did I?” Sarah crossed her arms and glared down at Pandora who, by now, had started on the sandwiches and was cramming her mouth with them at some speed. “What yer got to say to me then?” Pandora asked, liberally spraying food around as she spoke. Sarah took a deep breath. “It’s your clothes,” she said, “they’re not really suitable for a Doctor’s practice.” Pandora swallowed the sandwich she’d stuffed in to her mouth in one huge gulp and looked indignantly back at Sarah. “Me clothes!” She cried out, “What’s wrong with me clothes?” “Well,” Sarah hesitated, seeking the right words to reply to the indignant girl. “They’re a bit too casual.” She finally said. “What? You want me to dress like you?” Pandora sneered. “I don’t think so!” “No. Doesn’t have to be like me,” Sarah said patiently, “just a bit smarter. Less casual, like I said.” “Oh, that is so unfair!” Sarah stared at the girl in amazement. “Why is it unfair?” she asked, “We’re dealing with the general public. We’re the first line of defence. Patients don’t want to see us looking a mess.” “Yes, but, no, but,” Pandora was staring at the ceiling as if looking for inspiration, “Yes, but,” she continued, “Madeleine’s working at the vets and she says they can wear what they want, and she should know because she used to date Darren, and everybody knows Darren went behind the bike sheds with Tanya, even though Tanya denied it and said she was out that night with Wayne, and he’s well fit, and he wouldn’t look at `er cause he’s seeing Gail and she works in Woolworth on a Saturday, and they can wear what they want under their overalls, so there!” Sarah was totally bemused. “You are Vicky Pollard, aren’t you? They’ve based her on you. They must have done!” “Oh, shut up!” With a flick of her ponytail, Pandora stood up, collected up the remains of her lunch and walked out of the room, passing Julia on the way. “Well,” Julia asked Sarah, “did you manage to speak to her about her clothes?” “Yes.” A bemused Sarah replied. “And?” Julia enquired, “What did she say?” Sarah looked at Julia and, after a few moments said, “To be honest, Julia, I haven’t a clue!” “Well if there’s no improvement tomorrow, maybe I should speak to her. Perhaps it would come better from the Practice Manager. A senior, more mature approach might do the job.” “You could be right.” Sarah smiled to herself and wondered how Julia would deal with Pandora in full flow. “Oh, she’s left her bag here.” Julia picked up Pandora’s capacious handbag. “You finish your break. I’ll take it out to her.” Pandora was sitting in reception reading a magazine and as Julia approached she commented, “Jordan’s really pretty ain’t she? I’d like to be like `er. I want to be a model, you know, just like `er. Do you think she looks a bit like me?” She held the magazine up to her face in order that Julia could compare. “In an odd sort of way, maybe.” She replied the look on her face, one of total disbelief, contradicting the words that had come out of her mouth. “Here’s your bag Pandora. You left it in the staff room.” Pandora laughed knowingly. “I suppose you’re after a look at me box as well.” “Really Pandora, I’ve got better things to do than indulge in your childish games.” Pandora pulled the box out of her bag. “Bet you’d like to look though, wouldn’t you?” “If it will keep you happy.” Julia took the box and opened it.
to be continued........................................................
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Post by PamA on Dec 8, 2005 13:47:18 GMT 1
Tuesday – afternoon
“An empty box,” she exclaimed, “so funny Pandora. Now back to work.” Julia made to shut the box but a sudden movement inside it caught her eye. “What...” she began to say before realising that there was, indeed, a picture beginning to form in the base of the box. She moved the box upwards, closer to her face.
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“Marry me Julia. We got on really well together, enjoy the same things, and I know I could make you happy.” Julia looked around. She felt that everyone in the restaurant was staring in their direction, even though the words had been scarcely more than a whisper. “You pick your times don’t you?” She whispered, “When you said you had something to ask me I thought it was about work.” “Sorry. It just seemed the appropriate time.” “Oh, that’s very romantic, I must say,” Julia retorted. “And there was me thinking you’d planned it, and that any moment you’d go down on one knee and pull a ring out of your pocket!” “I love you, you know that.” Julia did know that. It was an aspect of their relationship that she would never question but, she admitted to herself, there were two obstacles to her saying “yes”. Firstly there was the humiliation of the wedding that didn’t happen. She would never forget that moment when Kate entered the room and she’d seen the look on Mac’s face. That was the moment when she realised that she would be second best, a rebound from the hurt Kate had caused him. Oh, yes. It had been her who’d been there for Mac, nursing him through his heart attack, tending to his every need, but she knew, the moment she saw that look, that it was Kate who had his heart and from deep within herself she’d rustled up enough courage to say “I’m sorry Mac. I can’t do this.” To the shock of all the assembled guests she’d turned and walked away. She’d heard through friends that Mac and Kate had got back together soon after. The second obstacle was the harder one. She was still in love with Mac. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t put him out of her mind, nor could she completely let go of the idea that even now they might get back together. As long as she felt like this, she knew it would be completely unfair to say `yes’ to anyone else, and certainly it would be totally unfair on poor Harry whom she knew was very much in love with her. She’d tried hard to understand what it was about Mac that had made two women putty in his hands. It wasn’t his looks or his personality. In all honesty Mac was selfish to the highest degree, yet he had an indefinable quality that made both her and Kate fall in love with him, not once but twice. Harry had reappeared in her life by complete accident. They had been an item many years ago but he’d moved away and they had lost touch. It was quite by chance that they bumped into each other at the Letherbridge Playhouse where they had both gone to see a production of `Lady Windermere’s Fan’. They began to see each other again on a fairly casual basis and eventually had set up the Letherbridge super practice, after successfully seeing off the bid made by Mac. It had given her a sense of satisfaction knowing that had she been married to Mac and working with him, she didn’t doubt that the super practice would have been his instead. She was a good businesswoman who knew how to put a proposal together, and she was a hard worker, something that, to her chagrin, Harry didn’t always seem to be. “I don’t think so,” she finally replied, “Let’s just stay as we are.” She looked down at her plate of food anxious not to meet Harry’s eyes. “You could at least say you’ll think about it.” Harry said hopefully and reaching across the table took both her hands in his. “Please,” he continued, please just give it some consideration.” When Julia failed to answer he added, “Move in with me then. Let’s at least be a proper couple.” He tried searching her face to see what her reaction was to this idea, but she was holding her head down low and her hair hid most of her visible features. “Okay,” she finally said, “I’ll think about it but to be perfectly honest Harry, I’m quite happy as I am. My career has really taken off, the super practice is flourishing and, what’s more, I love my little house in Letherbridge. I don’t really want to move.” “Then I’ll move in with you,” Harry said a note of hopefulness creeping into his voice. “We work together all day. Don’t you think we see enough of each other?” Julia asked. “That’s just it,” Harry explained, “I want to be with you all the time. I don’t think I can stand much more of being with you all day and then us both going off in our separate directions.” “That’s not strictly true,” Julia remonstrated with him. “We often see each other after work for meals, concerts, theatre trips, you know that.” “And at the end of the evening we both go our separate ways.” He let go of her hands and sat back in his chair. “And if I say no?” Julia asked looking up at him, “Then what?” It was Harry’s turn to avoid her gaze. He picked up a knife off the table and turned it round and round in his hands before saying, “Then, I’m sorry Julia but one of us may have to go.” “I beg your pardon!” Julia exclaimed, “What do you mean one of us may have to go?” “Just what I said. I’m sorry Julia but I can’t go on working with you unless we make things official between us. It’s killing me seeing you all the time and wanting to be with you. I can’t handle it any more.” “But it’s ridiculous to discuss one of us leaving just because I won’t agree to be your wife or partner or whatever.” She stopped speaking and stared intently at him. “You are serious aren’t you?” Before he could reply she continued, “What you’re saying is either we marry or move in together, or one of us has to leave the practice. That’s blackmail Harry, pure blackmail.”
to be continued.......................................
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Post by PamA on Dec 16, 2005 12:05:03 GMT 1
Tuesday – afternoon
“Not blackmail, my dear Julia, more a question of logic.” Harry gazed at her, a deep, penetrating gaze that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. “Imagine how it would be,” he continued, “how difficult I could make it for you.” Julia was finding it hard to believe what she was hearing. Harry had never struck her as being the vindictive type, a touch sensitive at times maybe, but certainly not malicious. “Let me get this straight,” she finally said, “Either I agree to marry you or, at the very least, move in with you, or you’re going to force me out of the practice.” Harry simply nodded. “Well that would be a wonderful start to a life together, wouldn’t it? A relationship that I’ve been coerced into? And as for the practice – I built it up, I did the business plan that beat all the other contenders. It’s only as good as it is thanks to me. I don’t like blowing my own trumpet, Harry, but without me you’d have got nowhere and if I go you will never be able to find another Practice Manager that will be half as good as me.” “That may be the case,” Harry conceded, “but the Practice will continue with or without you. So what’s it to be Julia? Will you at least think about things? Consider my proposal?” “Actually, Harry,” Julia said, “I don’t need to think at all.” She stood up, throwing her napkin down on the table as she did so. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last person on earth! And as for my job, well, I wish I could say that working with you has been a delight, but to be honest Harry, you are the laziest most self-indulgent person that I’ve ever known. Further more, you’ve served your purpose as a dinner and theatre companion and that, dear Harry, was all you ever were to me, so don’t flatter yourself that you were ever anything else.” Harry looked shocked at this out leash of words. He knew Julia had a bit of a temper but had never seen her quite so angry. “I was joking Julia,” he said, “I wouldn’t really force you in to marriage. What kind of man do you think I am?” “Do you really want me to answer that?” Julia asked. She took a deep breath in preparation for her next onslaught against a man whom, she suddenly realised, she didn’t even particularly like. For a moment she closed her eyes as she gathered her thoughts.
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“What d’ye reckon then?” Pandora was asking her. “Good innit?” Julia hurriedly thrust the box back at Pandora. “I don’t have time for these silly games. Now let’s get some work done around here!” Julia practically stomped back to her office, leaving a bemused Sarah staring after her. “Well,” Sarah said, “I wonder what on earth she saw?” Pandora smiled secretively. “Yes,” Pandora looked at Sarah, “I wonder.” A thought suddenly struck Sarah. “You know, don’t you? You know what people see.” Pandora shrugged her shoulders. “As if.” But the mysterious smile on her face belied her answer. “Anyway,” she continued, “I need the loo.” Off she marched, defiantly flicking her ponytail in Sarah’s direction.
The relationship between Sarah and Pandora was somewhat cool for the rest of the afternoon. Sarah was sure that there was more to Pandora than met the eye. For a start, where on earth had she got that strange box from? According to Pandora her grandmother had given the box to her. Was her grandmother some kind of witch? Sarah wasn’t sure that she believed in witches and magic and all that type of thing, but there was no denying that the box held some kind of inexplicable power. She, herself, had been drawn in to an alternative life where she and Nathan were husband and wife. There was no doubt in her mind that she would once have jumped at the chance of a serious relationship with Nathan. If nothing else had come from her encounter with Pandora’s box, she knew for sure that any lingering longings she had for him were well and truly laid to rest. She’d love to know what others had seen. Apart from Helen, all those who’d peered in had seemed happier after their encounters. Julia initially appeared annoyed, but as the afternoon had progressed Julia was in the best of moods and had even been caught singing in the staff room. Sarah decided to try and find out a little more about the strange work experience girl and her even stranger box. “So,” Sarah asked her later as they were preparing to go home, “do you live far from here?” Pandora replied, “No.” “I could give you a lift if you like,” Sarah offered. “No fanks,” Pandora said, “I don’t live any where near you.” “So, um, where do you live?” Sarah persisted. Pandora replied, “Letherbridge.” Sarah sighed and shook her head. “Well, I know that,” she said sarcastically, “You’d hardly be here if you lived somewhere else in the country. I meant whereabouts in Letherbridge do you live.” “The estate.” Sarah decided at this point that the whole conversation was too exasperating to continue. “I’ll follow her,” she thought to herself, “that way I’ll find out where she lives and maybe a bit more about her.” The two left the building, Sarah shouting “Goodnight everyone!” over her shoulder. Pandora made for the main road whilst Sarah made her way to her car. To Sarah’s amazement, by the time she drove on to the main road there was no sign of Pandora anywhere. It was just as if the girl had vanished into thin air.
to be continued.....................................
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