Small Pleasures

Never before had she considered that all these experiences that had nearly demolished her had built her into something better.

The journey into love was so effortless and graceful; the journey out such a long and laboured climb

Previous experience taught her that the pain would not be unending - but neither would it subside smoothly, incrementally, but rather in a series of crashing waves, some of which might still knock her off her feet

There was something almost cruel in their self-absorption and Jean had to remind herself that it was nothing personal, just a universal symptom of the disease of love. Those afflicted could not be blamed, only pitied.

Having done the right thing was nothing like the consolation she had hoped. Without constant congratulation, virtue was a lonely business.

A lifetime of quiet watchfulness had convinced her that the truth about people was seldom to be found in the things they freely admitted. There was always more below the surface than above.

imagine if dignity was all we had to look forward to in old age!

You see, Howard, I wasn't always the sensible woman you see today' 'I'm only sorry you had to live through it all to become her.' She gave him a grateful glance. Never before had she consid- ered that all these experiences that had nearly demolished her had built her into something better.

She’s too old for change. Now, it’s all about comfort and routine and taking pleasure in tiny treats.

It was a delight to Jean to witness her childish pleasure in things; that interlude between the dawning of consciousness and the onset of self-consciousness was so brief.

they didn’t go out; the pleasure of small acts of domestic intimacy – sharing a bath, preparing meal side by side at the stove, putting clean sheets on the bed, smoking the day’s last cigarette in the garden while they looked at the night sky – these were all still delightful.

The new and threatening would become the old and familiar in due course.

With orchards and gardens bursting with delicious Kentish apples, now is the time to fetch out those favourite recipes. Spiced Apple Cake is simple to make and a nice change from a pie. It works well served warm with custard, or cold with a cup of tea in place of a traditional fruit cake. 3 apples, peeled, cored and sliced 2 tsp golden syrup 1 tbsp butter 1 tsp ground cinnamon Sponge mix: 4 oz butter 2 tbsp golden syrup 4 oz caster sugar 2 eggs 4 oz self-raising flour 1 tbsp milk Simmer the apples with the syrup, butter and cinnamon for a few minutes until tender but not mushy. To prepare the topping, soften the butter and golden syrup in a bowl over a basin of hot water. Remove from the heat and beat in the sugar and eggs. Fold in the flour, adding milk to give the consistency of lightly whipped cream. Place the apple chunks in a greased tin or ovenproof dish and pour over the topping. Bake at Gas Mark 4 for 25 to 30 minutes until the sponge is golden brown and springy to touch.

but I hope you will think our friendship is sturdy enough to survive a crisis that was not of our making. Yours, Howard

It was no struggle to believe they belonged entirely to each other. If someone else had played a part in Margaret's conception, he had left no visible trace.

She had recovered her composure now, for the moment, and sounded like her idea of a sensible, rational woman. She would collapse later, she promised herself, between seven and seven-thirty, when she had got home from work and done her chores.

Although keenly alert to her mother's faults, it still pained Jean to think others might notice and judge them.

can’t be.’ She shook her head.

It would survive only in memory; to be taken out and turned over now and then, like one of the treasures from her dressing-table drawer.

he no longer mentioned gretchen, either wistfully, which would have been awful, or bitterly, which would have been worse. jean knew that didn't necessarily mean she was never in his thoughts. a decade of mariage was not easily effaced. but he was not the kind of man who took any pleasure in stoking female insecurity.

The journey into love was so effortless and graceful; the journey out such a long and laboured climb.

The name was picked out in elegant gold lettering against the bottle-green paintwork.

Yes. No. I don’t know. Do you think it’s possible to hold two contradictory views at the same time?” “Perfectly. Religious folk do it all the time.

She had observed before that when people said ‘so and so doesn’t like me’, the dislike was usually in the other direction.

in the steady gaze now fixed on Jean that was

I’m only sorry you had to live through it all to become her.

You can’t accept compliments and then dismiss brickbats. You have to treat those two impostors just the same. For my own sanity, I choose to ignore them both.