CHAPTER 1
She places her half-filled wine glass at the table and glanced at the clock.. 845. A little late for her usual dinner but Elsie doesn't seem to have the appetite she used to have.
*ding*
She crosses over the counter to get to the microwave. A heated leftover lasagne by Beryl Patmore from a party three nights ago. She opens and the lid and closes her eyes to savour the smell of melted mozarella mixed in with sprinkles of parmesan. The smell of tomato sauce still bubbling from heat. She turned to her toaster just in time to catch the toasted bread that would go well with her pasta.
This is what her normal Tuesday night looks like: reheated leftover meal (usually from Beryl) and a glass of red wine. Château de Lussac for tonight.
Elsie pulls up her cardigan sleeves as she reaches out for a fork and readies to dig into her meal when her phone rings.
"You're not having the same lasagne for dinner aren't you?" It's Beryl.
"Wha- How did you know that? And you gave me loads of this... I can't possibly finish it in a day!" Feeling a wave of energy as she defends herself from Beryl's accusing tone.
"It's sad Elsie." Sighs before she continues."Why don't you come over here tonight? I roasted beef and got no one to share it with."
"You roasted beef when you've got no one to share it with?" that is a peculiar statement.
Elsie follows up with "What is Bill's excuse this time?"
She knows her friend well enough to assume she was cancelled on the last minute.
"Hey~ That's not fair. But if you must know, he's stuck in a meeting and said he'd be having dinner there." Beryl said confidently, struggling to not accept defeat.
"Oh alright… But I can't come. I'm already in the middle of my dinner and I was thinking I might have an early night..." A little white lie. She just doesn't feel like being with company tonight.
"Are you sure? Daisy is at an overnight and William isn't coming home until this weekend. We can have a bit of girls night!"
Elsie pauses to think.
"Maybe another time Beryl." She's just not in the mood. "I'll come over Saturday for William's welcome home party. Promise.." Hoping that appeases her best friend.
"If you're sure." Beryl pauses and hesitates, but goes on with "Goodnight then.. "
"Goodnight."
She ends the call and places the phone on the counter top. The lasagne isn't as hot as it was but still a bit warm. She eats in silence, closing her eyes every now and then to bask in it's the flavours. Third time this week but this pasta still tastes good. Her best friend is truly a magician in the kitchen.
She finishes the meal and prepares the dishwasher, putting in the right settings. The dishwasher starts and disturbs the silence she has maintained for the past few minutes. She looks for the clock again and sees 930. Just in time to read few pages of her new book before turning in to bed. Isobel recommended it.
"Eat, Pray, Love."
She would have been more inclined to buy it without recommendation if it only said Eat & Pray. She sighs.
Elsie loves the quiet. It's been quiet for 4 years now since she left Joe and it became 'the comfortable' for her now. She still goes out every now and then with Beryl and a few of her colleagues at work but nothings feels more like home than this silence.
When the dishwashers done, She finished off the dishes, turned down the lights and headed upstairs to her room.
Charles opened his eyes and turned to his side to reach out for his watch on the bedside table. 6am.
*Buzzing*
He always wakes up just before his alarm starts. He doesn't really know why he bothers with an alarm. Habit, he supposes.
He gets up and changes to his sweatpants. He goes out of his house to take a jog, like he does every morning since he bought this house a few years ago. He sets of towards the park and meets the regulars.
"Good Morning Mr. Carson!" A brunette woman in her late twenties walking with her 5 corgies greets him as he passes the first benches outside the park.
"Good Morning Ethel" He greets back.
As he turns the corner, he spots a middle aged woman with her sleepy grandson in tow.
"Right on time Mrs. Bryant! Hello little Charlie." He slows down a bit to give the little boy a smile.
It usually takes around 3 rounds around the park before he finishes and heads to the little quaint breakfast shop called 'The Sunrise' and orders himself a traditional English breakfast to take home. The door opens and the woman at the counter spots him immediately and greets him.
"Good Morning Mr. Carson! The regular, I take it?" He nods.
"Thank you Mrs. Bird! Good Morning to you as well" and takes a seat at a nearby table.
In no more than 10 minutes, his meal is ready to go and so he sets off, walks back home with a different route south of the park. He passes by his regular newspaper stall. He spots the stall owner ready with 'The Times' he would purchase.
His 'routine', as he likes to call it, hasn't ever changed for years now. 8 years he thinks, or maybe 7. He can't quite remember exactly. He meets the same people every day. Certain changes had happened of course. Ethel has more corgies. Mrs. Bryant used to walk with her husband but now with little Charlie. However, these little details don't matter really. They happened gradually much to his comfort. He doesn't really talk much to them but learns a bit with everyday encounters. He feels safe and secure in the sameness of his mornings. This is his 'comfortable' now.
As he got back to the house, he finishes his routine by placing carefully his breakfast on the table with the newspaper on the side. He puts away the paper bag to the nearby trash bin. Then sits at the head of the table and puts on his glasses ready to unfold the newspaper with his left hand and enjoy his meal with a fork in his right.
He sighs and opens the paper, strikes the fork on the bacon and begins the day.