In Which Time Stands Still by Bill Hibberd - HTML preview

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13

 

Brian had found himself a flat.

 

He’d looked at four and ruled two out for reasons of space and quality.

 

The two he had short-listed were both good but before he could take his preferred choice it was let to somebody else. Brian had shrugged his shoulders and immediately paid his bond and first months rent on the remaining furnished flat.

 

Overlooking a car park at the rear but with a tree in full view, the flat had one bedroom, a lounge with a kitchenette and a shower room with loo. No bath.

 

To the front the main road was busy from 7:30 in the morning quieting after 7 at night. Brian felt that this would be no problem given that he too would be busy for those same hours.

 

Within 2 hours he had collected his possessions from the storage warehouse and was drinking ginger beer to the weird sounds that he considered musical. Today musical was a ‘tinky tinky plinky’ sound typical of the music played in Greece and Cyprus.

 

From his bag, Brian produced some of the trophies of his recent journey.

 

Not much of a collector of souvenirs, Brian had several books – paperback visitor guides to the places where he’d stayed – a piece of genuine papyrus neatly marked with the glyphs that represented the name Helen, a plastic pyramid within which it was claimed a razor blade would stay sharp forever and a cook book proclaiming the health benefits of eating Catalan style.

 

He looked around his new home before placing the papyrus carefully inside the front cover of the cookbook, which he placed on the one shelf above the desk.

 

Brian had met Helen only a little over a year ago.

 

Ordinarily, Brian would not have noticed Helen. But it was because she had a relationship with David that was clearly – unusual – in that they enjoyed lunch together, would meet for special occasions and might even have the occasional dinner together that she had come to his attention.

 

That and the fact that she and David would explore some amazing subjects in those moments when other people discuss nothing more than the weather and the rising cost of bus fares.

 

Unwittingly, David had provided a platform from which Helen could be seen where Helen, left to her own devices, would have been quietly tucked behind the pages of a book every lunch time.

 

Brian had been attracted to her wit and incisive responses to some of his friend’s most outrageous suggestions and arguments. He was also intimidated by her fastidious attention to detail and her need to meticulously plan everything she did.