Monday 21 December 2015

Day 21: Heart to Heart by Glynis Scrivens

Glynis Scrivens sends us some interesting links to her blog. 

Blog: Susan Jane Jones’s Blog – Writing and doodling about things I like 25 August 2015  -
And her favourite place to write:  

An extract from  Heat to Heart

Brenda glanced nervously at her watch. Three o’clock. Her daughter Alice would be here any moment. She hadn’t seen her for nearly twelve months. Was it really that long ago that Alice had stormed off, to live with her aunt in Surrey? Originally it was to be for a week, but her aunt had needed a hip replacement and Alice had offered to stay and help. Then she’d found a job locally.
The odd postcard had arrived, with snippets of news, and they’d exchanged birthday presents, but Brenda hadn’t really felt they’d communicated. Not until last night’s phone call when Alice had said she was driving up to see her. There’d been a wariness and tension in Alice’s voice when she’d phoned her, but something else as well.
Was it possible after all this time that Alice too was hoping to find a bridge to link their troubled hearts?
She looked at the quilted wall hanging, which she’d made in the weeks after Alice had moved out. When her own heart had ached and swelled with grief.
A car pulled up outside. Brenda wiped the palms of her hands onto her jeans.
The first thing she noticed about Alice as she walked up the driveway was her hair. It was blonde, just as it had been when she was young. She stood by the window to watch the sunlight glinting off her daughter’s hair.
Somehow she’d never got used to seeing Alice with black hair. Never understood the need to cover up who she was.
Alice had always covered things up. That’d been the problem.
And Brenda had never really felt able to deal with the sorry situations that’d resulted.
Maybe the blonde hair was a reflection of other changes? A small ray of hope entered her heart.      
The doorbell rang, and Brenda hurried down the hall.
She clasped Alice in her arms. “I love your hair,” she managed.
Alice shrugged. “I wanted a change.” Her voice was subdued.
Brenda led her into the kitchen. She knew Alice hated any kind of fuss, so she started to make coffee. She’d let her daughter do the talking. It’d be silly to get the visit off on the wrong footing after all this time. She’d never quite known what to say to her, even now.
Alice sat down at the wooden table and looked around.
Brenda carefully measured the coffee beans into her old-fashioned grinder. It looked as though it belonged in another century. To a time when people weren’t always in a hurry. When there was time for families to sit around the kitchen table and sort out their differences. When people spent more time simply talking to each other. And listening. That’s why she’d bought it, when she’d seen it in the charity shop. To remind herself to walk through time, not run.

About the author 

Glynis Scrivens writes short stories, and has been published in Australia, UK, Ireland, South Africa, US and Scandinavia.  She writes for Writers' Forum (UK), and has had articles in The New Writer, Pets, Steam Railway, Ireland's Own, and Writing magazine. Her work has appeared in seven anthologies. She lives in Brisbane with her family and a menagerie of hens, ducks, dogs, lorikeets, and a cat called Myrtle. Her first book Edit is a Four-Letter Word was published by John Hunt in 2015. Her website is at


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