1. Wind of Change (Circa 1975)


    Date: 2/19/2016, Categories: Mature, Author: marlowe, Rating: 1, Source: LushStories

    row of snow covered conifers a guiding light to the imposing Georgian mansion welcoming their guests. A brief moment of fleeting glances, eyes meeting in captured smiles, a drooping jaw a clear sign of his admiration, his mind confused with furtive apprehension, his smile slowly fading, a bothersome thought nagging inside his head. My father worked in a hospital and my mother worked for a firm of lawyers. She told him. A fucking hospital porter and a clerk in an office.... I fucking don’t think so. “My father was The Head of Paediatric Neurology in one of the largest hospitals in New York and then he worked for a short time in Boston and Chicago before returning to live in Northumberland,” she said, rather matter-of-fact, interrupting his thoughts. “My mother was a barrister and before she retired she worked at The Royal Courts of Justice, in London. They still occasionally travel around the world to attend and chair lectures, and they’ve both written books on their respective professions,” she concluded, circling a white marble water feature of a gracious biblical lady holding a child before pulling the car to a halt in front of a huge garage forecourt. “I think you’ll like this,” she smiled, taking his hand and heading towards four garage doors, the snow crunching underfoot, a remote control activating the timber doors, his eyes taking a quick tour of the dark enclosure, his jaw dropping again, a beautiful Mercedes-Benz 300, an E-Type Jaguar, a vintage Bentley and the ...
    unmistakable image of a magnificent Rolls Royce hidden beneath a diaphanous shroud, sleeping quietly in the shadows. The main entrance hall with high ceilings and ornate covings was gracious and cavernous. A delightful collection of baroque style art, ceramic ornamentation and bronze sculptures sat imposingly on exquisite period tables and an impressive display of oil paintings arranged in a discerning montage decorated one of the walls. On the opposite wall a colourful painting in a bronze frame hung alone, the obscure arrangement of what looked like jigsaw pieces that didn’t fit together, hinting at the work of Picasso. Two large winding staircases with decorative wrought-iron handrails led up to a first-floor gallery landing. At the top of the stairs a magnificent stained-glass window - that wouldn’t have been out of place in Durham Cathedral - reflected slithers of coloured light over an imposing glass chandelier hanging in the main entrance hall. It took his breath away. He stood for a moment gazing in awe and admiration. He felt like he had stepped into a Clarke Gable movie. He clenched his teeth, making sure his drooping jaw didn’t make another appearance. She smiled and giggled through a mocking bow, sweeping her hand and pointing to the stairs with the confidence and enthusiasm of an estate agent, her playful gesture a courteous invitation for a quick tour of the magnificent house. The gallery landing on the first-floor led to a myriad of spacious rooms comprising of ...
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