Constellate Literary Journal recently published my short story, All Fixed. Read it here.
The pub smelled of stale lager and pork scratchings, but that’s just the way Dad liked it. One of the last good, proper pubs left, so he used to say. A shithole, in other words. But at least it was friendly. I watched Mum as she wandered across the dingy maroon carpet. Her nose crinkled as she noted the soles of her shoes clinging to the sticky pile with each step. I sipped my large white wine and hoped its effects would wash over me quickly.
Gavin nudged me. ‘One drink and we’ll be off.’
I took in the clusters of mourners which filled the room. ‘I haven’t spoken to anyone yet.’
‘Go speak to them while you drink that.’
‘Don’t be long. I don’t want to be stood here like a spare part.’
‘Come with me then.’
‘I’m not talking to these old bastards.’
‘A lot of them are family.’
I nodded and walked away from him, knuckles white as my fingers gripped the stem of my wine glass for dear life.
I hope everyone is doing okay during these weird and turbulent times.Follow Ellie Scott on WordPress.com