"Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings"

Jane Austen

Brandon was standing in his kitchen readying himself for the day ahead. It had been like this ever since Eliza died. He would stand in the kitchen staring out into his rather cramped communal garden and just wait – for anything really. Anything to get him out of his stupor; wait for the kettle to whistle, wait for Martha to come booming down the stairs and crunch away on her cereal, wait for to see Eliza appear out of nowhere in particular and kiss him. How desperately he wanted her back and how upsetting it was that he never could.

Martha, as predicted, came bounding down the stairs and walked solemnly into the kitchen and took her seat at the counter. Brandon poured her favourite heart attack-inducing-sugary-chocolate confection which made the milk turn a dark brown – a worrying sight. She snacked away on it with without as much as a word. Brandon watched her in anticipation, waiting – like always – for her to say good morning. She didn't.

Planting his elbows on the counter and leaning onto it, Brandon sighed, "Come on, let's go."

Martha looked up with big eyes and let her spoon drop. Brandon rushed a hand through his hair, "We can definitely crack this, Martha. I might not look it, but remember, I was a kid once…long ago. So…?"

Martha stared blankly at Brandon and then echoed, "So…?" with a shrug.

"So, it's someone at school. Right?" he said gestating with his hand for her to carry on with the conversation. It didn't get any further than a "Yeah" and a shrug from Martha. "Okay," Brandon continued, "What does he – she?" He looked at her with a question, Martha rolled her eyes. "Okay, so how do they feel about you?"

Martha blew a piece of curly brown hair from her face, "HE doesn't even know who I am. And even if he did, he'd hate me. He's the coolest guy in school. Everyone worships him because he's you, know…totally amazing." With that Martha sighed happily and cupped her face in her palms. Brandon smiled at her glazy expression and then became ridiculously protective over his young step-daughter. He recognized that look. It was complete and utter infatuation – the only kind of infatuation that came with your first love. Brandon had been the same in his younger days and though admittedly, Martha was slightly younger than his first experience of the pangs of love, but who was he to judge? That naïve love had never quite left him, even when he became an adult. He was still feeling it now, if however inappropriate. Yes, he was basically fucked. And by the looks of it, so was Martha. However, Brandon planned to make sure his step-daughter in this case was going to be successful in love, unlike her pathetic excuse of a father.

"Go on then, love bird, you're going to be late for school if you keep staring into space like that." He shooed her into the next room and shouted at her retreating figure, "And wrap up, it's bloody cold out there!" Martha mumbled something incoherent back. Whatever she'd said was soon muffled by the phone ringing.

Brandon jogged into the hall and picked up the phone, "Hello?" Martha was standing next to him, wrapping her scarf rather haphazardly around her neck. Tucking the phone between his chin and shoulder, Brandon crouched down and with a quizzical expression at Martha. Martha stuck her tongue out at him. Tut-tutting, he began to wrap the scarf around her neck properly and then placed a hat on top of her curly mop of hair.

He wasn't even paying attention to the caller on the other end of the phone. He was too preoccupied with making Martha into living bubble wrap that he was shocked when he heard John's voice calling his name.

"Brandon? Brandon, you there mate?" he said.

Brandon placed a pair of boots in front of Martha and nodded for her to put them on. "Yeah, sorry mate, I'm here. Just getting the tempestuous Martha ready for school." Martha stuck her tongue out at him again. Brandon returned the favour getting a smile out of her. He heard John laugh and then asked "You got a minute or two?"

Brandon looked at Martha as she plonked herself down on the stairs and proceeded to put her shoes on. Satisfied that she was getting ready, Brandon walked into the living room and said, "Yeah sure, what do you need?"

John sighed and then said, "I've got Marianne on the other line."

Brandon stopped and looked back at Martha tying her shoe laces and closed the door to the living room. "Oh right, that's nice John, but I don't see how I can help you there. She's your fiancée you have to talk to her at least once a week." John laughed at his terrible joke.

"I'll have you know I talk to Marianne frequently. However, much to my disappointment, it's actually you she wants to talk to. Do you mind if I patch you through?"

"What for?" Brandon replied sounding slightly outraged. In fact, it was the complete opposite. He felt slightly hopeless whenever he was in Marianne Dashwood was in his presence. She took the words from him and Brandon as a rather quiet man most of the time, he didn't really need a permanent lapse in speech. People would think he was either stupid or dull.

"She just wants to ask you a favour. Come on, Brandon, you can give her that at least!" said John.

"What do you mean?" Brandon rubbed his forehead and pinched his nose.

"Well," John began, "it's not like you've gone out of your way to like her."

Brandon scoffed, "I do like her," I like her too much, Brandon thought. "I'm just not every talkative."

John wasn't really listening; he was obvious at work and rather busy. Brandon could hear his conversations altering between him and his colleagues. "I'm going to patch you through now…be nice, Brandon!"

"I'm always nice," he said before the connection clicked. Brandon stroked down his flaying hair and gulped. He began to pace, suddenly nervous.

"Brandon?" The connection clicked back and Marianne was talking to him. He stopped pacing. He could hear the undiluted happiness in her voice. That was love for you.

"Hi," he said, unable to think of anything better to say. There was an uncomfortable silence when they were both thinking of what to say. When they finally talked, their words collided.

"How was–" Brandon said.

"I was just –" Marianne said.

Brandon shook his free hand out and clenched it again. He was stupidly nervous. He needed to make this as brief as possible. "You go first." He had said it rather bluntly and perhaps a bit unfriendly. But really wasn't it better for everyone if he remained unfriendly towards Marianne?

"Oh no, please you go first." Marianne said. Her voice was friendly and willing to make him feel comfortable. It was a shame that her tone only made him feel more uncomfortable with every passing moment.

"No, I insist."

"Oh okay," Marianne sounds somewhat defeated, and Brandon hated that he had caused that, "right, well, it was a small favour. Basically I just tried the video from the party and it's come out all wobbly. You can barely make out anyone. I suppose that's what I get for asking John Middleton to do the video! He doesn't even know what a DVD is!" She laughed sweetly and Brandon tried not to groan.

Acting disinterested, Brandon said, "Sorry, Marianne," He stumbled across her name, realizing that he'd never actually said her name out loud – how odd. "I don't really know how I can help?"

Marianne breathed and Brandon imagined how that soft breath would feel against his skin, how she would smell of lavender and apricots. Damn it, Brandon! Marianne spoke then, "Well, I remember you had filmed a bit on the night, I was just wondering really if I could look at it? Just to see if it's any better the crap I've got now?"

Oh shit.

Brandon panicked slightly and practically ran out of the living room, nearly colliding with the fully wrapped up Martha, and grabbed his coat and started to shrug it on. He placed the phone in between his chin and shoulder, "Oh no – I wasn't really filming it. I didn't really…"

"Please," Marianne said. With that he almost caved and almost dropped the phone. He juggled it and caught it close to his chest. Martha rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen to get her packed lunch. Marianne continued as Brandon placed the phone to his ear again, "I mean, how are you meant to make memories when they're all turquoise?"

That surprisingly made him smile. Smiling scared the crap out of him, "Okay – I'll have a look. Pretty sure I wiped it though – must go." And with that he abruptly hung up and slammed the phone back down onto its holster.

Martha was standing at the kitchen door, looking at him knowingly, "Why did you just lie?"

Brandon scoffed, "I do not lie." He grinned then, "Well, not all the time." He winked at Martha and she smiled somewhat brightly.

"Was that Marianne on the phone?" Martha straightened onto her tip toes and tilted her head to the side. He didn't like how she'd said Marianne's name. It reminded him of the 'Up in Tree' rhyme. Brandon shooed her out the door and followed her out, "None of your business. Now off to school we go!"


Harry wheeled around in his office chair as he chewed a pencil in his mouth. How the office was dull in the wintery season. The clouds were bleak outside, hanging over London and he was sure it was affecting his employees.

Janie had barely cracked a smile all day. She had sat at her laptop staring at it, point blank refusing to look up or at anyone around her. She looked as if she had just been called to the gallows, not sitting in a warm office nestling a cup of tea. Ed too was the same, even though his annoying contraption called a mobile was jingling nonstop all afternoon. He'd been moping around like some morose shadow around the office all day. Harry was never the one to intentionally start up small talk, but seeing Ed's perpetual gloom parading around the office like the Ghost from Christmas Future was enough to make anyone resort to drastic measures. When he had begun to talk, Ed barely replied with more than a grunt and a nod. And then, inevitably, his phone would go off.

Mari however, had been her perky self. Glancing at him with long lashed eyes, chewing on the end of her pencil and her bottom lip, even he was sure bending over intentionally in her rather small skirt to show the beginnings of her stockings. Good grief!

Janie hadn't made a move from her seat all day. He had planned to call her into his office but had never quite gotten round to it, even with the gloomy state of the office. Not to mention that his last failed attempt with Ed had warranted nothing apart from a few clipped words and the occasional grunt. What a charming fellow, Harry thought with a raised eyebrow.

Finally he decided to take action. He leaped, somewhat sluggishly (he was fifty four after all!) out of his chair and went to find Janie. He glanced briefly at Mari who was working, her toned bare leg was crossed over the other and she flipped her heel back and forth on She was wearing a dove grey sweater which in all perfect honesty didn't really flatter her small shape, but the colour suited her rather well. Even with a face so gloomy. "Any progress with our dear Eddie?"

Janie sat and huffed out a sigh, "No. I've done fuck all and I never will because he's quite obviously too fucking good for me."

"How true." Harry grinned. Janie looked up at him and scowled. "Well, you see, your very expression tells me that you actually do not believe that, even if you say it so certainly!" Harry clapped his hands together and spun victoriously in her chair.

"Stop, Harry." Janie sighed, "Hope is never good in this situation. We haven't talked in almost two weeks."

"And why is that?" Harry asked. Janie shrugged. "Have you tried to talk to him?"

"It's quite obvious that I haven't, Harry!"

Harry stood and opened the door to his office. He gestured for Janie to stand, "Well I suggest that you go and do so. Ed has been gloomy as a storm these past weeks. You would know that if you ever looked from your computer screen." Harry smiled at Janie as her mind caught up. Janie walked out of the office looking slightly happier and she even glanced at Ed as he bent over his drawings.

Harry followed Janie out of the office and walked over to Mari's desk. "How's the Halloween party coming on, or do I not want to know?"

Mari smiled and swirled around in her chair. Yes, Harry had been very observant today – her skirt was very short indeed.

"Good. I've found a venue too. A friend of mine works there. He's away right now but he's put a word in with the manager. We have it if we want it." Mari

Harry averted his eyes from all things below her neck that were very much on display, "What's it like?"

Mari opened her legs slightly, and quite obviously intentional. "It's an art gallery. Full of dark corners, dark deeds." She opened her legs wider, exposing her inner thigh. "Perfect for Halloween."

Harry gulped and looked elsewhere, "I suppose I should take a look at it or something."

Mari smiled and licked her tongue across her teeth, "You should."


Sorry for the (VERY) late post...I was thinking of putting this on hiatus, as I missed my Halloween and Christmas deadlines and I thought it would nice to read it around those times of the year. If anyone still follows this story, tell me what you think! Pleeease! Would it be better to read this now (even out of season) or would you guys like to read it around the time of the setting? Think Christmas 2014 :P

Thanks, and enjoy! :D