mastry story of 259 words
Answers
“Claire’s a brave girl and she’s going to be fine,” George said.
In the evening George was sitting at a café on the promenade. He’d finished eating and was drinking coffee.
“Can I buy you another?” the woman asked.
George looked up and saw the mother of the girl who had cut her foot.
“Oh,” George said as he stood. “How is … how is Claire?”
“They’re keeping her in overnight to watch for any infection. But she’s going to be fine, thanks to you.”
George invited the woman to join him and gestured to the waiter, a small man with a big moustache.
“Anyone with common sense would’ve done the same,” George said.
“This is the culprit,” he said, placing a fragment of brass on the table. “It’s off a shell casing from the war.”
Celia picked up the metal and turned it over and over, feeling the edge.
“Surely by now they would have cleared them all,” she said.
“Believe me,” George said as the waiter brought coffees and slid the tab under the sugar bowl, “there were thousands of shells. I guess bits keep rising up.”
A group of noisy young people sat down at the far end of the café, behind George.
“Is that why you’re here?” Celia asked. “Because of the war?”
George lifted his cup and seemed reluctant to talk.
“I’m sorry,” Celia said. “That’s none of my business.”
George smiled. “It’s alright. I’m here because I have to apologise to someone.”
“Who is that?” Celia asked, leaning forward.
“I don’t know,” George answered, shaking his head and looking down. Celia reached for his hand.
“Back then,” George said, “the code name for Anzio Beach was ‘Yellow Beach’. I was nineteen and an infantryman. At first light we jumped from the landing craft and ran like hell …”
George stopped speaking, searching for the right words. He didn’t react to a plate smashing and the burst of laughter behind him.
George took another sip and as he put down the cup his expression became pained.
Celia saw tears in George’s eyes. She squeezed his hand.
George shook his head again and was quiet.
“Let him go,” George said.
“Let him go or I will hit you,” George said, raising his fists.
“Is this a joke?” the young man jeered.
The laughter faded.
The young man glowered and George kept a steady eye.
When the young man’s eyes dropped, George knew it was over.
“I’m not wasting time on an old man,” the young man hissed, and let go of the waiter.
“Make whatever excuse you need,” George said. “But be sure to pay your bill.