This is another little episode in the fictional tale I am weaving about Annabelle. It follows the post from a couple of days ago:
On reaching the bowling alley and joining the other members of Blackwood Rambling Group, Annabelle seemed to relax. Before long she was the vivacious bubbly woman, whose smile lit up the room, that Chris had been harbouring a crush for since he had repaired the garage door round at the Jennings’ house. He still remembered seeing a sleepy-eyed young woman appearing on the veranda with a cafetiere, and thinking that even in a baggy shirt and sweatpants and straggly hair she was a stunner.
Annabelle was flashing her deep smiles again, and he loved hearing her melodic laughter. She brought an infectious cheer with her. She was very popular amongst the Blackwood Rambling Group, which was made up mainly of townsfolk who were in their fifties and sixties. They were all very fond of her and she ate well because of all the invitations to dinner she received from her fellow walkers.
“What is it with bowling shoes?” Annie cried as the bowling ball she had just launched slipped down into the channel to the left of the lane, “Do they really have to make you look like a clown? I am sure I would be able to bowl better in my sneakers!”
“It must be the shoes Annie, I am sure it has nothing to do with your spindly arms,” teased Arnold, who had set up the rambling group ten years earlier and still organised all of their group’s walks.
Annabelle clenched both fists and held her arms up in a strong man pose. “These arms are perfect for washing dishes and ironing, which pay my rent. If ever I am called to be on the Olympic bowling team, I will start working out.”
“That reminds me Annie, I need to book your services at some point this week.” The request came from Ralph, the oldest member of the rambling group, who sadly, had lost his beloved wife a year earlier, “I can’t see out of the window in the utility room for all of the shirts and linen stacked up waiting to be ironed.”
“Would Thursday morning be alright Ralph?” asked Annie as she sat beside him
“Pancakes day? Ooooh, well, I had better start eating early if you are joining me for breakfast.”
Annabelle put her arm round Ralph and rested her head on his shoulder. “I will keep the whole day free Ralph, in case you want company.” It would be exactly a year on Thursday since Ralph’s wife Barbara has passed away. For forty-eight years of marriage Barbara had always made pancakes on a Thursday. They had met as youngsters, when she worked as a waitress in a diner. Ralph was the handsome customer who would order coffee and pancakes once a week and leave a huge tip for her. One day he left a note asking if he could take her to the movies. And the rest was history.
Chris had his eyes on Annabelle for most of the evening. He couldn’t help feel that she was a lot more comfortable with the older members of the group than she had been with him. He wondered what he had done to make her withdrawn when she was in the car with him. He kept wanting to approach Annabelle and start chatting, but he was anxious in case he received a cold response.
“Hey Chris, how’s it going?” came a familiar voice.
“Oh hey Jenna, good to see you.” Chris had dated Jenna when he had first moved to Blackwood. She was fun to be with and she seemed very keen on him…and most of the other men in the town. Chris enjoyed Jenna’s flirtation, while nursing his bruised ego, after Annabelle had seemed so eager to separate from him as soon as they had arrived at the bowling alley.
When Annabelle suggested that she go home with Philippa and Len Booth, as they lived nearer to her, Chris was so disgruntled he decided to ask Jenna if she wanted to leave the bowling alley and go somewhere for a drink. He recollected how mad he had been with Annabelle when he woke up the next morning with Jenna beside him.
At that very moment, Annabelle was lacing up her walking boots getting ready to go and watch the sunrise from the summit of Blackwood Hill, the place they had said their goodbyes. Annabelle had promised him that she would wait until he returned for her. Her daily pilgrimage to the top of Blackwood Hill reinforced her determination to wait for Robin.
You can read the next part in Annabelle’s story here:
Kim, the creator of Writer Side of Life has given us some great writing prompts. Several of them appealed to me, but I have only chosen one to work on for now, because I am still playing catch up with blogging, after my trip to Australia:
I chose a prompt under the ROMANCE section: 3. Who is she waiting for?