Sally Angell loves literature and writing, and is
always aiming to develop new and original ideas in her work. Sally explores the
truth and reality of feelings, the originality of language and the
possibilities of words. She likes to write stories with contemporary themes, that also have a universal meaning. Her
writing has been published in magazines and anthologies, and read on radio.
When the new shopfront in town was revealed, Ellie was
drawn to the window. Anything to lift the grey cloak of her day.
She peered up at the sign, and was dazzled by swirly pink
and purple letters that spelt out the name: Magpie.
The hopefulness of it made her throat ache. Here, on this dingy street, where
retailers were giving up and closing each week, someone had created an oasis of
sparkle and colour. Ellie did a quick assessment of the entrance, but knew she
had to go inside.
A man in a black overall darted forward, as Ellie scraped
the wheels through the doorway. He pushed the wheelchair over to a corner for
her, positioning it to face a row of lamps that glowed with soft light.
Ellie snapped the chair brake on, and took off the waterproof
cover. ‘You stay there, Hero,’ she instructed. As if he could go anywhere else!
But it always made her feel better to talk to him.
‘He’s got beautiful eyes,’ the shop man smiled.
People always said that. And they were indeed; large and
soft and a lovely deep brown. But useless. Not that Hero was blind. His vision
was quite good. It was just that what he saw didn’t mean anything to him.
‘Your…?’
‘Son,’ Ellie clarified. Sometimes strangers thought she was
one of those support workers who supervised clients on trips to the town
centre, helping them do shopping tasks. If clocking that Ellie was actually the
mother of the thirty-ish man she was pushing around, their faces changed. Pity
usually. It made Ellie annoyed. She’d had joy and grief, like any other parent.
But it was her life and that was that. It could be hard though. Especially now.
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