Here are the rules for the story-writing activity.
- The story must include at least one of the phrases 1 to 8 shown below.
- The story should not be longer than 80 words.
- The story can be about anything you like.
- Please include your name and the country you are from at the bottom of the text.
- The story can only be sent from the link on mobile phones "send me a text" at the top of the page in your podcast app.
- The last day for sending the story is 28th July 2024.
- I'll read two or three of the best stories on my podcast.
The voice sounded rather weak, sleepy even.
I've got a few hours. I thought we could meet up.
Thoughts began to go through Stephen's mind
'Why don't you come over?' Jane suggested.
'See you in a bit then,' she said and hung up.
On such a small island, everybody knew everybody else
'Well, well, well. After all these years!' she said.
She had to move piles of papers off the sofa, so Stephen could sit down.
'Saint Anne 579712,' The voice sounded rather weak, sleepy even.
'Jane?' asked Stephen. 'Jane Dupont?'
'Yes! Who is this?'
'It's Stephen. Stephen Burnett.'
'Erm. Stephen…' she repeated. She obviously hadn't recognised the name.
'From Cirencester School in Gloucestershire. We went to school together.'
'Stephen!' Jane suddenly sounded more awake. 'Hello!'
'Jane. I'm at Alderney airport - some technical problems with my flight. I've got a few hours. I thought we could meet up. Go out for a coffee or something.' And then he added 'If your husband doesn't mind.'
'Why should my husband mind?' Stephen realised that he'd said the wrong thing, but Jane didn't give him time to explain himself.
'My husband isn't here, anyway. He's away for a few days…' Her voice sounded sleepy again, perhaps sad, and thoughts began to go through Stephen's mind.
'Why don't you come over?' Jane suggested. 'I'm warning you, I've had a few cocktails! Come and visit, and I'll make you one.' When she laughed, Stephen recognised it - a silly, sweet laugh, just like the way she used to laugh at school when she was twelve years old.
'Do you know my address?'
'Yes,' said Stephen. 'It's here in the phone book.'
'See you in a bit then,' she said and hung up.
There was just one taxi in front of the terminal. The taxi driver was looking annoyed that none of the passengers from the unexpected plane that had just landed were actually going to leave the terminal, so his face suddenly looked brighter when he saw Stephen approaching.
'Where would you like to go to, sir?'
A house called Blue Gables. It's in Saint-Anne. It's in…
'Yeah! I know it, sir!'
Of course, he did! On such a small island like Alderney, everybody knew everybody else.
A few minutes later, Stephen was ringing the doorbell. He looked around as he waited. An attractive cottage with a blue roof and a large garden full of bright colourful flowers with a fishpond in the middle. The sort of garden that Jane would have, Stephen thought to himself.
As the door opened, Stephen held his breath. Jane was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with the name of some university on it. Her hair, still very black, was pushed up on the top of her head with a few bits hanging down. Her bright blue eyes met Stephen's, and her smile took the breath from his mouth. In her right hand she held a glass of some light green and yellow liquid with a straw in it. Stephen noticed that she was studying him in the same way.
'Well, well, well, Stephen. After all these years!' she said.
'Lovely to see you, Jane,' said Stephen trying to sound as formal as he could. He suddenly wasn't sure what to do next. The events of the day: the Paris to Bristol flight, technical problems with the plane, the unexpected temporary stop on one of the smallest islands in the Bristol Channel, where, by chance, one of the most special people in Stephen's life lived. What else could he do but contact her. He had had no choice really. But now what…?
'Why don't you come in?' Jane said with the same bright voice. 'Perhaps you'd like a drink?'
Stephen was rather surprised to find that Jane's living room was quite messy. There were clothes here and there on the floor. The kitchen door was open, and it seemed the washing-up hadn't been done for ages. She had to move piles of papers off the sofa, so Stephen could sit down.
'I've been studying,' she said hurriedly like an apology. 'What do you do?'
'I'm a doctor. Heart disease. That sort of thing. I've just come from a conference in Paris. I'm flying back to Bristol.'
'Really,' said Jane. 'I remember you used to say you wanted to work for your dad.'
For a moment, Stephen wondered what she meant by that. His father was a writer. But they had just been children – and children say all sorts of things.
'Would you like a drink? I could make you a cocktail,' and she smiled again and pushed back some hair that had fallen in front of her face.
'No, please, don't bother. A glass of water would be fine.'
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