Story Snip from Larksong: Chapter 5 and Our Flag Means Death Story List

hapter 5!

I'm still trying to decide whether I'll post the entire story here, or just these opening bits. If I share it all, that'll preclude any hope of publishing. We'll see!

Meanwhile...

Larksong is set in Montreal, July 1914.

In chapter 1, Alice, after her grandmother's funeral, arrived at the family cottage to take care of her grandmother's aviary, only to find that her parents had already leased the cottage to another family for the summer.

The only way she could have one more summer in her favourite place was to surreptitiously take on the role of governess to the two young girls...

In chapter 2, we met George, laid up at the hospital with a broken leg. Instead of joining his friends on a Grand Tour of Europe, he's being sent off to recuperate at a rented cottage in the country...

In chapter 3, we returned to Alice's point of view, and saw her bonding with George's younger sisters. Then she got a surprise -- George was arriving at the cottage that very day!

In chapter 4, we get a hint that Alice finds George attractive and interesting -- but also unbearably rude.

Now, in chapter 5, they speak (argue!) for the first time...

James had acknowledged Alice only long enough to confirm her name and that his father's secretary would make arrangements for payment of her wages. Alice spoke as politely and noncommitally as she could, relieved when he bade a quick farewell to his siblings and roared off in the now unladen Ford.

By contrast, the house seemed packed and full. She settled the girls at the scrubbed kitchen table with a sheet each of hastily written grammar exercises, under Elsie's supervision as she made supper.

With Elsie in the box bedroom behind the staircase, and the girls sharing the large front bedroom upstairs, Alice was left the choice of the three remaining rooms. If James had stayed, she would have felt duty-bound to take an attic room, whereas now it was a simple matter to claim the bedroom that had always been hers, the one her grandmother always kept for her, no matter who else might be visiting.

She'd also managed to gloss over her lack of luggage; this part of her deception was simplified by the full wardrobe and bookshelf in her room. She made up her bed, the task made all the easier as she was alone upstairs and needn't hide the fact that she knew where the linens were stored.

The more difficult task was manoeuvering in the downstairs bedroom, with George hobbling out on his crutches as she entered with her arms full of linens, with barely a nod in her direction. His irregular, thumping steps headed along the hall to the porch, then further, down the steps.

Beds taken care of, she joined the girls at the table, and together with Elsie made up a shopping list for the next day, when she planned to take the girls with her to the village. Idly, she wondered what dishes George might prefer.

He had not yet returned from wherever he'd wandered off to. She remembered her own determination not to wallow on the divan for too long, no matter how many plates of fruits and iced cakes Granny had plied her with. She'd soon gotten used to swinging about on her crutches on the lawn, with Granny cheering her every step. The image remained vivid in her mind: sun-dappled shade on the porch, Gran shelling peas into a bowl on her lap, a wide smile on her face, and from behind, the low call of content birds from the aviary.

Alice dropped her pencil on the table and turned her back on the girls to hide the sudden tears in her eyes. Elsie was taking the stew off the stove. Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she rose and bid Eleanor to help set the table and Lucy to go call her brother in, without straying too far from the house, into the woods.

"You needn't bother," came a growl from the dim porch.

Plates in hand, she went to the kitchen door and peered out. George was seated on the divan, both legs stretched out before him, arms crossed. He'd returned much more quietly than he'd left. The light of the lanterns behind her did not reach far, but reflected off the whiteness of the plaster cast.

"Supper's ready," she said, as if he did not know, simply from an impulse to shake up the darkness he'd wrapped round himself.

"I heard," he snapped.

Had she been this rude to Gran or the rest of her family during her convalescence? Surely she wouldn't have been this snappish towards a complete stranger.

Then she saw what was bothering him: his crutches had slipped to the floor and, sitting or standing, he wouldn't be able to reach them on his own.

As he inched across the divan and swung his legs to the floor, she set down the plates and moved forward to pick up the crutches for him.

"Don't bother." He turned his back on her and bent at the waist, plastered leg stuck out at an angle, and snatched up both crutches together. He swung them onto the divan, striking a nearby bookshelf as he did so. A vase of dried flowers crashed to pieces on the tile floor.

The clatter and thud of the girls running out to see what had happened nearly, but not completely, drowned out the sound of George's curses.

"I told you I could do it myself," he growled, as if the accident had been Alice's fault.

She'd only just met him, and understood too well the pain he was in, so she decided to cut him some slack. Herding the girls before her, she asked them to finish helping Elsie set the table. "I'll light another lantern, then join y-- Elsie, in the kitchen."

She'd nearly implied that she would eat at the dining table with the family. It would not do for the governess to assume that she would be welcome to share their meal.

Twisting her lip at the deceptions that piled up, she fetched the broom and dustpan to clear away the shards of pottery. As she was bent over, sweeping for any stray pieces under the divan, George spoke from the doorway. "Leave that. Elsie will get it. We'll eat together, now." He hobbled off to the dining room.

Well, pain affected everyone differently. He needn't have been so gruff in manner. And with an entire summer ahead, it behooved her to learn to get along with him.

Or ignore him as often and as completely as possible.

My Our Flag Means Death stories!

Interlude from A Stitch In Time, in which my own characters Amelie and Angus, watch the show and read stories about it

I Have Stede's Journal, which features two stories told through journal entries (set in 1717) (these two are safe for work)

Goldenheart, which begins in Montreal in 2002...

Three other stories set in c. 1717, each a standalone piece: Starmoonsun (pollen!), Sail Away (a wedding!), and Communication Breakdown --> Friends (a proposal!)

Ready for the Journey, which is set in Nova Scotia, and features a performance of Into the Woods (this one is safe for work, for now)

Blackbeard's Delicacies and Delights and Fishing Equipment, which features performers falling in love

I surrender to the future / I’ll stay with you if you let me, set in 1718, based on a prompt from an artist and featuring their gorgeous art (this one is rather heavier on the angst, but always with a happy ending! Hopefully to form the start of a series, called Unearthed Treasures)

Dock of the Bay, which features three stories (so far!) set at a marina on a lake in Ontario

To Try and Say, a story about a mother, based on another author's story (this one is safe for work)

The Maiden's Tower, set in Constantinople, in 1498. I commissioned art for this story and it's beautiful!

Gorgeous art by wenskiii

All the story playlists are here!

What's your favourite story setting?