Paper 1 Q1: retrieval within the lines

The borrowed voice

Original contemporary fiction; Salma attends a choir rehearsal in a hall where her mother once sang.

1. 1The hall was being used for storage, so the choir stood between a folded climbing frame and stacks of plastic chairs.
2. 2Salma placed her music on a chair that had lost one rubber foot. It rocked whenever she turned a page.
3. 3Across the room, people greeted one another in the easy shorthand of people who had met here for years.
4. 4She recognised some of their faces from photographs. In each photograph her mother had stood somewhere near the middle.
5. 5The conductor gave her a folder with her mother’s name rubbed almost smooth. Salma held it by its edges.
6. 6Inside, pencilled arrows crowded the staves. One word, breathe, appeared so often that it began to feel like an instruction for living.
7. 7They started badly. Notes collided beneath the low ceiling, bright fragments that would not fit together however firmly the conductor gestured.
8. 8Salma mouthed the first verse. The woman beside her sang with a rough, confident warmth, leaving room for nobody to hide.
9. 9At the difficult turn, the conductor stopped them. A radiator answered with three dry knocks, and somebody apologised to it.
10. 10The room laughed. Salma laughed a little later, once she realised that this was allowed even here, even now.
11. 11They tried again. She let out one note, quietly, as if returning something borrowed without attracting the owner’s attention.
12. 12The woman beside her leaned closer, not to listen but to show her the line. A flour mark whitened her sleeve.
13. 13Salma’s mother had always insisted that the choir was ordinary. As a child, Salma had understood that as a complaint.
14. 14Now she watched the conductor balance his score on a paint tin and saw the folder repaired with kitchen tape.
15. 15At the last verse the woman lost her place. For two bars Salma sang alone, hearing her own voice without its usual shelter.
16. 16Nobody turned. The other singers entered at the next line, and the song carried on with its small mistake inside it.
17. 17When they finished, the conductor asked whether she would come next week. He was already sorting the untidy pile of music.
18. 18She said yes before examining whether she could bear to. He nodded, as though this were an entirely manageable arrangement.
19. 19Salma rubbed a flour mark from the folder. Then she stopped, leaving a pale thumbprint beside her mother’s name.
20. 20On the way out she moved the chair with the missing foot against the wall, where it would not trouble anyone.

Original fiction written for this course.

Platform lights

Original contemporary fiction; Dev and his younger sister Leena wait for a relative at a small railway station.

1. 1Dev had chosen the middle bench because from there he could see both the footbridge and the station entrance.
2. 2He told Leena it was the warmest seat. She tested the metal with her palm and said nothing.
3. 3The platform lights stood in a patient row, each holding its pale circle above the rain. Beyond them, everything blurred.
4. 4Water threaded the station name, dividing its familiar letters into uncertain fragments. Dev read it twice without meaning to.
5. 5Leena balanced her suitcase upright between her shoes. Its bright strap looked absurdly cheerful beside the dark hem of her coat.
6. 6Every few minutes the loudspeaker cleared its throat. Each time Dev straightened, but the announcement concerned some other journey.
7. 7He had rehearsed a greeting on the bus. Here, with the empty track in front of him, it sounded unbearably formal.
8. 8Leena asked whether their uncle would recognise them. Dev said that people did not change very much in six years.
9. 9She looked at his new shoes, then at the photograph on his phone, but kindly declined to argue.
10. 10A train entered without stopping. For several seconds the platform was all reflected windows, so many brief and inaccessible rooms.
11. 11In one of them a boy held a paper crown over a sleeping woman. Then the train was gone.
12. 12Leena laughed at the crown. Dev laughed too, surprised to discover that his mouth could still make that shape.
13. 13Afterwards the platform seemed emptier. He put the phone away and took it out again, checking the same unanswered message.
14. 14The station clock moved forward with a small mechanical jump. Leena’s suitcase tilted, and he steadied it before it fell.
15. 15On the footbridge a figure paused beneath a broken lamp. Dev rose so quickly that the bench struck his knees.
16. 16The figure lifted a hand. He lifted his. Then another passenger emerged behind them and received the wave.
17. 17Dev sat down carefully. Leena drew the suitcase closer and began telling him a story about a dog from school.
18. 18He knew the story already. This time he listened to every detail, allowing her to reach the ending without interruption.
19. 19As she spoke, she moved her cold hand into his sleeve. He closed his fingers around it beneath the cuff.
20. 20The loudspeaker crackled again. Neither of them looked up immediately; for another moment, the dog was still escaping through the gate.

Original fiction written for this course.

The uncollected parcel

Original practice fiction, written in 2026.

1. 1At half past six, Mara reached the village shop. The window was dark, but a strip of yellow light lay under the side door.
2. 2She carried an empty basket. Her mother had asked for bread; the baker had already sold his last loaf.
3. 3Beside the door stood a parcel wrapped in brown paper. Rain had softened one corner, leaving the string slack.
4. 4Mara read the label twice. It bore her father’s name, although he had left the village before she could remember.
5. 5She raised her hand to knock, then lowered it. A voice inside was saying that some things were better left where they were.
6. 6When the latch clicked, Mara stepped back into the road. She held the basket against her chest as if it contained something breakable.
7. 7The shopkeeper appeared with a lamp. Behind him the shelves gleamed, and a new loaf rested on the counter.
8. 8“I was expecting you,” he said. He looked at the basket, then at the parcel. Mara wished he had looked at neither.

Original fiction written for this course.

The uncollected parcel

Original practice fiction, written in 2026.

1. 1At half past six, Mara reached the village shop. The window was dark, but a strip of yellow light lay under the side door.
2. 2She carried an empty basket. Her mother had asked for bread; the baker had already sold his last loaf.
3. 3Beside the door stood a parcel wrapped in brown paper. Rain had softened one corner, leaving the string slack.
4. 4Mara read the label twice. It bore her father’s name, although he had left the village before she could remember.
5. 5She raised her hand to knock, then lowered it. A voice inside was saying that some things were better left where they were.
6. 6When the latch clicked, Mara stepped back into the road. She held the basket against her chest as if it contained something breakable.
7. 7The shopkeeper appeared with a lamp. Behind him the shelves gleamed, and a new loaf rested on the counter.
8. 8“I was expecting you,” he said. He looked at the basket, then at the parcel. Mara wished he had looked at neither.

Original fiction written for this course.

The last delivery

Original contemporary prose fiction. On the last afternoon before their father closes his bakery, Leila and her older brother Sam deliver unsold bread to nearby flats.

1. 1The van door needed lifting before it would shut. Sam knew the trick; Leila had to ask him twice.
2. 2Inside, the bread lay in blue trays, each loaf wearing the small paper collar their father insisted on.
3. 3He had printed his own name on those collars, in gold letters, twenty-three years before Leila was born.
4. 4Sam turned the radio up. From the passenger seat she could still hear the trays knocking together behind them.
5. 5At the first building he carried three loaves upstairs and came back holding a folded ten-pound note.
6. 6“She insisted,” he said, although Leila had not asked. He tucked it behind the cracked plastic sun visor.
7. 7At number eighteen Mrs Vale opened her door before they knocked, a coat buttoned over her indoor clothes.
8. 8“I thought you might forget.” She addressed Leila, but watched the blue tray in Sam’s hands all the time.
9. 9Sam explained that this was the last delivery. He used his bright customer voice, the one without any questions.
10. 10Mrs Vale nodded too often. Behind her, an electric heater glowed against a wall stained with old damp.
11. 11“Well, everything changes.” She began searching her coat pockets, patting each one as if reassuring a small animal.
12. 12“These aren’t for sale,” Sam said. He put two loaves on the narrow table before she could find anything.
13. 13Leila glanced at him. That morning he had counted every remaining bag, even the torn ones they could not use.
14. 14“Your dad won’t like that,” Mrs Vale said. Her fingers stayed buried in the lining of her coat.
15. 15“He sent them.” Sam looked past her towards the window. “He said you always liked the dark crust.”
16. 16The woman stopped searching. With one hand she smoothed a paper collar that had twisted sideways during the journey.
17. 17“He remembered.” She said it quietly, and Leila found herself inspecting a crack in the pale ceiling above them.
18. 18On the stairs Sam moved quickly. His shoulders rose beneath the tray as though it had become unexpectedly heavy.
19. 19“Dad didn’t send them,” Leila said. He kept walking, taking care not to touch the dusty wall with his sleeve.
20. 20“He would have.” At the bottom step he waited for her, then added, “There’s a difference. A small one.”
21. 21Outside, a boy asked whether they had cakes. Sam said no, then opened the van and found a crushed bun.
22. 22He peeled away its paper case and offered it on a clean napkin. The boy accepted it without thanking him.
23. 23Sam watched him leave. “Excellent customer service,” Leila said, and was surprised when her brother laughed with her.
24. 24They sat in the parked van while the afternoon light withdrew, window by window, from the building opposite them.
25. 25Leila reached for the ten-pound note. “Shall I put this through the till when we get back to the shop?”
26. 26Sam took it first. For a moment she thought he was going to push it into his own jacket pocket.
27. 27Instead he folded it into a smaller square and placed it beneath a loose paper collar on the dashboard.
28. 28“Dad’s going to ask what we got for all of it.” His thumb rested over the little gold printed name.
29. 29Leila said they could tell him about Mrs Vale. Sam nodded, but did not start the engine straight away.
30. 30In the windscreen their two reflections sat on either side of the bread, waiting for someone to speak first.

Original fiction written for this course.

The waiting room

Original contemporary prose fiction. Dara, a teenage singer, is waiting to audition for a place in a local performance company.

1. 1The room contained six chairs and a piano nobody was allowed to touch. Dara took the chair nearest the door.
2. 2Her number was forty-two. The paper badge lifted from her cardigan whenever she breathed deeply, exposing a damp corner.
3. 3Across from her, a girl in red boots mouthed the words of a song, silently shaping every extravagant vowel.
4. 4Dara recognised the tune. It was hers too, the piece she had practised until her family stopped requesting silence.
5. 5The girl saw her looking and smiled. “Nell,” she said, tapping her own badge. “Have you been waiting long?”
6. 6Dara answered with a shrug that she hoped suggested experience. She had arrived forty minutes before the stated time.
7. 7A man emerged carrying a clipboard. Number forty-one had not arrived, he announced; number forty-two would therefore be next.
8. 8Dara stood so suddenly that her folder struck the chair. Pages slid across the polished floor towards Nell’s boots.
9. 9Nell knelt at once, gathering the sheets with a briskness Dara mistook for impatience until she saw her hands shaking.
10. 10“I always do that,” Nell whispered. Dara knew she meant dropping things, but wanted her to mean being frightened.
11. 11The man had already disappeared. Through the closed door came a bright chord, then somebody clearing a stubborn throat.
12. 12Nell put the pages into order. She paused at the first one, where Dara’s name crowded the printed title.
13. 13“That’s my song.” Her voice lost its cheerful lift. For the first time Dara noticed how young she looked.
14. 14Dara could have said that she knew. Instead she tugged the folder back and said, “It’s quite a common one.”
15. 15Nell returned to her chair. She pressed her palms against the red boots, leaving small dark prints on the leather.
16. 16The door opened again. This time Dara’s name was spoken slowly, as though it were an item being checked for damage.
17. 17Inside, three people sat behind a table. Only the woman in the middle looked up when Dara entered the room.
18. 18“Whenever you’re ready.” Dara placed the music on its stand. On the top page Nell had straightened a folded corner.
19. 19The first line came out thin but correct. The second sounded like something happening at the far end of a corridor.
20. 20She looked at the flattened corner. Nell had held it between a finger and thumb until it stayed in place.
21. 21Then Dara forgot a word. A blank opened inside the phrase, horribly public, and the accompaniment travelled on without her.
22. 22She let it go for one beat. When she began again, she sang more quietly, remembering Nell’s unfinished little whisper.
23. 23The woman in the middle stopped writing. Dara could not tell whether that was good; she kept her eyes above the table.
24. 24At the end nobody applauded. “Thank you,” said the woman. “You found something interesting when you stopped pushing so hard.”
25. 25Back in the waiting room, Nell was standing with her coat on. Her badge had come away from its pin.
26. 26“I might choose something else,” she said. “They’ll have heard it already.” She tried to fasten the badge one-handed.
27. 27Dara felt, with a sudden shameful pleasure, how easy it would be to agree and wish her luck at the door.
28. 28Instead she held out her hand for the pin. “Don’t change it for me. I didn’t sing it the way you will.”
29. 29Nell studied her face before giving her the badge. Dara fixed it to the coat, carefully missing the lining underneath.
30. 30When Nell’s number was called, Dara stayed in her chair. She would hear only the muffled music through the wall.

Original fiction written for this course.

The glasshouse key

Original contemporary fiction; Ivo visits his grandfather’s closed plant nursery before its sale.

1. 1The key fitted, although Ivo had expected some final resistance from a place that had resisted change for so long.
2. 2The gate opened onto a path divided by weeds. He followed the clearer half, carrying the envelope under his arm.
3. 3Inside the glasshouse, heat lay folded among the empty benches. The air had the close, sweet smell of fruit forgotten in a drawer.
4. 4Labels stood in dry pots like tiny signposts to vanished towns. He recognised his grandfather’s sloping handwriting on each one.
5. 5At the far end, a vine had found a broken pane and was cautiously posting its leaves into the open air.
6. 6Ivo smiled at that. His grandfather would have called it initiative, then fetched a ladder and cut it back.
7. 7He had been sent to photograph the benches for the buyer. Instead, he put the envelope down and began straightening labels.
8. 8It was work without any purpose, and for that reason he did it carefully. Outside, a car slowed at the gate.
9. 9He remembered a winter afternoon when the glasshouse had been full. Customers stamped snow from their boots beside the heater.
10. 10His grandfather had given a damaged plant to a woman who could not afford the healthy one she wanted.
11. 11Ivo had called this generous. Later, his grandfather had said there was no use throwing away something that might recover.
12. 12The remark had irritated him then. It seemed to remove the kindness from the action, leaving only an argument about waste.
13. 13Now a leaf scraped his cheek. He was back beside the empty benches, holding a label whose ink had dissolved.
14. 14The car horn sounded once. Through the steamed glass he could see the buyer’s shape, dark and impatient at the gate.
15. 15Ivo took the photographs. On the screen the benches looked clean, practical and entirely without history, which was what was required.
16. 16He slid the sale papers from the envelope and checked that the blank places had all been filled with signatures.
17. 17Beneath the final bench stood a small pot he had missed. One green shoot had pushed through a crust of grey soil.
18. 18He lifted it, leaving a circle on the dusty floor. The pot was cheap and cracked; it did not belong on an inventory.
19. 19Before locking the glasshouse, he set the labels flat so that they would not spill. Then he opened the gate for the buyer.
20. 20He carried the pot to his own car. This, he decided, was simply the sensible thing to do with something still growing.

Original fiction written for this course.

The listening room

Original contemporary fiction; Mara has returned to a disused coastal signal tower to collect a box belonging to her father.

1. 1The tower looked smaller from the road. Mara remembered a building that divided the sky; now a delivery van concealed its door.
2. 2She waited for the van to leave before approaching, although nobody had told her that she must arrive alone.
3. 3Inside, the staircase curled tightly around a darkness that smelt of cold iron. Her bag scraped against each turn.
4. 4On the first landing, a painted arrow promised a view. She followed it into a room without any windows.
5. 5The windows were there, of course, beneath boards. Thin seams of daylight trembled around them like poorly kept secrets.
6. 6A chair faced the blank wall. Beside it stood the box she had come for, labelled in her father’s painstaking capitals.
7. 7She touched the label, then withdrew her hand. The cardboard had softened at the corners, almost accommodating her fingers.
8. 8Once, he had let her sit here while he worked. She remembered being trusted to announce the arrival of boats.
9. 9He had always thanked her, even when she mistook a bird for a sail. That courtesy embarrassed her now.
10. 10An engine sounded outside. She returned to the landing, but through its narrow glass she could see only the road.
11. 11When she went back, the chair seemed to have turned. It had not; the dragging mark beneath it was old.
12. 12She told herself this aloud. Her voice made the small room sound occupied, which was not the comfort she expected.
13. 13In the box were gloves, a cracked mug and a notebook. All ordinary things, arranged with an unreasonable amount of space between them.
14. 14She opened the notebook at the last page. There was a list of boats and, below it, her name.
15. 15For a moment the list seemed to be waiting for her to understand its order. She checked the date again.
16. 16It was the day she had left home. The ink beside her name was darker, pressed almost through the paper.
17. 17Someone below tried the outer door. Mara closed the notebook before she knew that she had decided to hide it.
18. 18The handle clicked twice, then stopped. She waited beside the box, listening to the silence change around her.
19. 19At last she put the notebook in her bag and lifted the mug. Underneath lay a second label, face down.
20. 20Outside, the engine started again. This time she did not move towards the window; she turned the label over.

Original fiction written for this course.

The uncollected parcel

Original practice fiction, written in 2026.

1. 1At half past six, Mara reached the village shop. The window was dark, but a strip of yellow light lay under the side door.
2. 2She carried an empty basket. Her mother had asked for bread; the baker had already sold his last loaf.
3. 3Beside the door stood a parcel wrapped in brown paper. Rain had softened one corner, leaving the string slack.
4. 4Mara read the label twice. It bore her father’s name, although he had left the village before she could remember.
5. 5She raised her hand to knock, then lowered it. A voice inside was saying that some things were better left where they were.
6. 6When the latch clicked, Mara stepped back into the road. She held the basket against her chest as if it contained something breakable.
7. 7The shopkeeper appeared with a lamp. Behind him the shelves gleamed, and a new loaf rested on the counter.
8. 8“I was expecting you,” he said. He looked at the basket, then at the parcel. Mara wished he had looked at neither.

Original fiction written for this course.

The uncollected parcel

Original practice fiction, written in 2026.

1. 1At half past six, Mara reached the village shop. The window was dark, but a strip of yellow light lay under the side door.
2. 2She carried an empty basket. Her mother had asked for bread; the baker had already sold his last loaf.
3. 3Beside the door stood a parcel wrapped in brown paper. Rain had softened one corner, leaving the string slack.
4. 4Mara read the label twice. It bore her father’s name, although he had left the village before she could remember.
5. 5She raised her hand to knock, then lowered it. A voice inside was saying that some things were better left where they were.
6. 6When the latch clicked, Mara stepped back into the road. She held the basket against her chest as if it contained something breakable.
7. 7The shopkeeper appeared with a lamp. Behind him the shelves gleamed, and a new loaf rested on the counter.
8. 8“I was expecting you,” he said. He looked at the basket, then at the parcel. Mara wished he had looked at neither.

Original fiction written for this course.

The last delivery

Original contemporary prose fiction. On the last afternoon before their father closes his bakery, Leila and her older brother Sam deliver unsold bread to nearby flats.

1. 1The van door needed lifting before it would shut. Sam knew the trick; Leila had to ask him twice.
2. 2Inside, the bread lay in blue trays, each loaf wearing the small paper collar their father insisted on.
3. 3He had printed his own name on those collars, in gold letters, twenty-three years before Leila was born.
4. 4Sam turned the radio up. From the passenger seat she could still hear the trays knocking together behind them.
5. 5At the first building he carried three loaves upstairs and came back holding a folded ten-pound note.
6. 6“She insisted,” he said, although Leila had not asked. He tucked it behind the cracked plastic sun visor.
7. 7At number eighteen Mrs Vale opened her door before they knocked, a coat buttoned over her indoor clothes.
8. 8“I thought you might forget.” She addressed Leila, but watched the blue tray in Sam’s hands all the time.
9. 9Sam explained that this was the last delivery. He used his bright customer voice, the one without any questions.
10. 10Mrs Vale nodded too often. Behind her, an electric heater glowed against a wall stained with old damp.
11. 11“Well, everything changes.” She began searching her coat pockets, patting each one as if reassuring a small animal.
12. 12“These aren’t for sale,” Sam said. He put two loaves on the narrow table before she could find anything.
13. 13Leila glanced at him. That morning he had counted every remaining bag, even the torn ones they could not use.
14. 14“Your dad won’t like that,” Mrs Vale said. Her fingers stayed buried in the lining of her coat.
15. 15“He sent them.” Sam looked past her towards the window. “He said you always liked the dark crust.”
16. 16The woman stopped searching. With one hand she smoothed a paper collar that had twisted sideways during the journey.
17. 17“He remembered.” She said it quietly, and Leila found herself inspecting a crack in the pale ceiling above them.
18. 18On the stairs Sam moved quickly. His shoulders rose beneath the tray as though it had become unexpectedly heavy.
19. 19“Dad didn’t send them,” Leila said. He kept walking, taking care not to touch the dusty wall with his sleeve.
20. 20“He would have.” At the bottom step he waited for her, then added, “There’s a difference. A small one.”
21. 21Outside, a boy asked whether they had cakes. Sam said no, then opened the van and found a crushed bun.
22. 22He peeled away its paper case and offered it on a clean napkin. The boy accepted it without thanking him.
23. 23Sam watched him leave. “Excellent customer service,” Leila said, and was surprised when her brother laughed with her.
24. 24They sat in the parked van while the afternoon light withdrew, window by window, from the building opposite them.
25. 25Leila reached for the ten-pound note. “Shall I put this through the till when we get back to the shop?”
26. 26Sam took it first. For a moment she thought he was going to push it into his own jacket pocket.
27. 27Instead he folded it into a smaller square and placed it beneath a loose paper collar on the dashboard.
28. 28“Dad’s going to ask what we got for all of it.” His thumb rested over the little gold printed name.
29. 29Leila said they could tell him about Mrs Vale. Sam nodded, but did not start the engine straight away.
30. 30In the windscreen their two reflections sat on either side of the bread, waiting for someone to speak first.

Original fiction written for this course.

The last delivery

Original contemporary prose fiction. On the last afternoon before their father closes his bakery, Leila and her older brother Sam deliver unsold bread to nearby flats.

1. 1The van door needed lifting before it would shut. Sam knew the trick; Leila had to ask him twice.
2. 2Inside, the bread lay in blue trays, each loaf wearing the small paper collar their father insisted on.
3. 3He had printed his own name on those collars, in gold letters, twenty-three years before Leila was born.
4. 4Sam turned the radio up. From the passenger seat she could still hear the trays knocking together behind them.
5. 5At the first building he carried three loaves upstairs and came back holding a folded ten-pound note.
6. 6“She insisted,” he said, although Leila had not asked. He tucked it behind the cracked plastic sun visor.
7. 7At number eighteen Mrs Vale opened her door before they knocked, a coat buttoned over her indoor clothes.
8. 8“I thought you might forget.” She addressed Leila, but watched the blue tray in Sam’s hands all the time.
9. 9Sam explained that this was the last delivery. He used his bright customer voice, the one without any questions.
10. 10Mrs Vale nodded too often. Behind her, an electric heater glowed against a wall stained with old damp.
11. 11“Well, everything changes.” She began searching her coat pockets, patting each one as if reassuring a small animal.
12. 12“These aren’t for sale,” Sam said. He put two loaves on the narrow table before she could find anything.
13. 13Leila glanced at him. That morning he had counted every remaining bag, even the torn ones they could not use.
14. 14“Your dad won’t like that,” Mrs Vale said. Her fingers stayed buried in the lining of her coat.
15. 15“He sent them.” Sam looked past her towards the window. “He said you always liked the dark crust.”
16. 16The woman stopped searching. With one hand she smoothed a paper collar that had twisted sideways during the journey.
17. 17“He remembered.” She said it quietly, and Leila found herself inspecting a crack in the pale ceiling above them.
18. 18On the stairs Sam moved quickly. His shoulders rose beneath the tray as though it had become unexpectedly heavy.
19. 19“Dad didn’t send them,” Leila said. He kept walking, taking care not to touch the dusty wall with his sleeve.
20. 20“He would have.” At the bottom step he waited for her, then added, “There’s a difference. A small one.”
21. 21Outside, a boy asked whether they had cakes. Sam said no, then opened the van and found a crushed bun.
22. 22He peeled away its paper case and offered it on a clean napkin. The boy accepted it without thanking him.
23. 23Sam watched him leave. “Excellent customer service,” Leila said, and was surprised when her brother laughed with her.
24. 24They sat in the parked van while the afternoon light withdrew, window by window, from the building opposite them.
25. 25Leila reached for the ten-pound note. “Shall I put this through the till when we get back to the shop?”
26. 26Sam took it first. For a moment she thought he was going to push it into his own jacket pocket.
27. 27Instead he folded it into a smaller square and placed it beneath a loose paper collar on the dashboard.
28. 28“Dad’s going to ask what we got for all of it.” His thumb rested over the little gold printed name.
29. 29Leila said they could tell him about Mrs Vale. Sam nodded, but did not start the engine straight away.
30. 30In the windscreen their two reflections sat on either side of the bread, waiting for someone to speak first.

Original fiction written for this course.

The last delivery

Original contemporary prose fiction. On the last afternoon before their father closes his bakery, Leila and her older brother Sam deliver unsold bread to nearby flats.

1. 1The van door needed lifting before it would shut. Sam knew the trick; Leila had to ask him twice.
2. 2Inside, the bread lay in blue trays, each loaf wearing the small paper collar their father insisted on.
3. 3He had printed his own name on those collars, in gold letters, twenty-three years before Leila was born.
4. 4Sam turned the radio up. From the passenger seat she could still hear the trays knocking together behind them.
5. 5At the first building he carried three loaves upstairs and came back holding a folded ten-pound note.
6. 6“She insisted,” he said, although Leila had not asked. He tucked it behind the cracked plastic sun visor.
7. 7At number eighteen Mrs Vale opened her door before they knocked, a coat buttoned over her indoor clothes.
8. 8“I thought you might forget.” She addressed Leila, but watched the blue tray in Sam’s hands all the time.
9. 9Sam explained that this was the last delivery. He used his bright customer voice, the one without any questions.
10. 10Mrs Vale nodded too often. Behind her, an electric heater glowed against a wall stained with old damp.
11. 11“Well, everything changes.” She began searching her coat pockets, patting each one as if reassuring a small animal.
12. 12“These aren’t for sale,” Sam said. He put two loaves on the narrow table before she could find anything.
13. 13Leila glanced at him. That morning he had counted every remaining bag, even the torn ones they could not use.
14. 14“Your dad won’t like that,” Mrs Vale said. Her fingers stayed buried in the lining of her coat.
15. 15“He sent them.” Sam looked past her towards the window. “He said you always liked the dark crust.”
16. 16The woman stopped searching. With one hand she smoothed a paper collar that had twisted sideways during the journey.
17. 17“He remembered.” She said it quietly, and Leila found herself inspecting a crack in the pale ceiling above them.
18. 18On the stairs Sam moved quickly. His shoulders rose beneath the tray as though it had become unexpectedly heavy.
19. 19“Dad didn’t send them,” Leila said. He kept walking, taking care not to touch the dusty wall with his sleeve.
20. 20“He would have.” At the bottom step he waited for her, then added, “There’s a difference. A small one.”
21. 21Outside, a boy asked whether they had cakes. Sam said no, then opened the van and found a crushed bun.
22. 22He peeled away its paper case and offered it on a clean napkin. The boy accepted it without thanking him.
23. 23Sam watched him leave. “Excellent customer service,” Leila said, and was surprised when her brother laughed with her.
24. 24They sat in the parked van while the afternoon light withdrew, window by window, from the building opposite them.
25. 25Leila reached for the ten-pound note. “Shall I put this through the till when we get back to the shop?”
26. 26Sam took it first. For a moment she thought he was going to push it into his own jacket pocket.
27. 27Instead he folded it into a smaller square and placed it beneath a loose paper collar on the dashboard.
28. 28“Dad’s going to ask what we got for all of it.” His thumb rested over the little gold printed name.
29. 29Leila said they could tell him about Mrs Vale. Sam nodded, but did not start the engine straight away.
30. 30In the windscreen their two reflections sat on either side of the bread, waiting for someone to speak first.

Original fiction written for this course.

The waiting room

Original contemporary prose fiction. Dara, a teenage singer, is waiting to audition for a place in a local performance company.

1. 1The room contained six chairs and a piano nobody was allowed to touch. Dara took the chair nearest the door.
2. 2Her number was forty-two. The paper badge lifted from her cardigan whenever she breathed deeply, exposing a damp corner.
3. 3Across from her, a girl in red boots mouthed the words of a song, silently shaping every extravagant vowel.
4. 4Dara recognised the tune. It was hers too, the piece she had practised until her family stopped requesting silence.
5. 5The girl saw her looking and smiled. “Nell,” she said, tapping her own badge. “Have you been waiting long?”
6. 6Dara answered with a shrug that she hoped suggested experience. She had arrived forty minutes before the stated time.
7. 7A man emerged carrying a clipboard. Number forty-one had not arrived, he announced; number forty-two would therefore be next.
8. 8Dara stood so suddenly that her folder struck the chair. Pages slid across the polished floor towards Nell’s boots.
9. 9Nell knelt at once, gathering the sheets with a briskness Dara mistook for impatience until she saw her hands shaking.
10. 10“I always do that,” Nell whispered. Dara knew she meant dropping things, but wanted her to mean being frightened.
11. 11The man had already disappeared. Through the closed door came a bright chord, then somebody clearing a stubborn throat.
12. 12Nell put the pages into order. She paused at the first one, where Dara’s name crowded the printed title.
13. 13“That’s my song.” Her voice lost its cheerful lift. For the first time Dara noticed how young she looked.
14. 14Dara could have said that she knew. Instead she tugged the folder back and said, “It’s quite a common one.”
15. 15Nell returned to her chair. She pressed her palms against the red boots, leaving small dark prints on the leather.
16. 16The door opened again. This time Dara’s name was spoken slowly, as though it were an item being checked for damage.
17. 17Inside, three people sat behind a table. Only the woman in the middle looked up when Dara entered the room.
18. 18“Whenever you’re ready.” Dara placed the music on its stand. On the top page Nell had straightened a folded corner.
19. 19The first line came out thin but correct. The second sounded like something happening at the far end of a corridor.
20. 20She looked at the flattened corner. Nell had held it between a finger and thumb until it stayed in place.
21. 21Then Dara forgot a word. A blank opened inside the phrase, horribly public, and the accompaniment travelled on without her.
22. 22She let it go for one beat. When she began again, she sang more quietly, remembering Nell’s unfinished little whisper.
23. 23The woman in the middle stopped writing. Dara could not tell whether that was good; she kept her eyes above the table.
24. 24At the end nobody applauded. “Thank you,” said the woman. “You found something interesting when you stopped pushing so hard.”
25. 25Back in the waiting room, Nell was standing with her coat on. Her badge had come away from its pin.
26. 26“I might choose something else,” she said. “They’ll have heard it already.” She tried to fasten the badge one-handed.
27. 27Dara felt, with a sudden shameful pleasure, how easy it would be to agree and wish her luck at the door.
28. 28Instead she held out her hand for the pin. “Don’t change it for me. I didn’t sing it the way you will.”
29. 29Nell studied her face before giving her the badge. Dara fixed it to the coat, carefully missing the lining underneath.
30. 30When Nell’s number was called, Dara stayed in her chair. She would hear only the muffled music through the wall.

Original fiction written for this course.

The waiting room

Original contemporary prose fiction. Dara, a teenage singer, is waiting to audition for a place in a local performance company.

1. 1The room contained six chairs and a piano nobody was allowed to touch. Dara took the chair nearest the door.
2. 2Her number was forty-two. The paper badge lifted from her cardigan whenever she breathed deeply, exposing a damp corner.
3. 3Across from her, a girl in red boots mouthed the words of a song, silently shaping every extravagant vowel.
4. 4Dara recognised the tune. It was hers too, the piece she had practised until her family stopped requesting silence.
5. 5The girl saw her looking and smiled. “Nell,” she said, tapping her own badge. “Have you been waiting long?”
6. 6Dara answered with a shrug that she hoped suggested experience. She had arrived forty minutes before the stated time.
7. 7A man emerged carrying a clipboard. Number forty-one had not arrived, he announced; number forty-two would therefore be next.
8. 8Dara stood so suddenly that her folder struck the chair. Pages slid across the polished floor towards Nell’s boots.
9. 9Nell knelt at once, gathering the sheets with a briskness Dara mistook for impatience until she saw her hands shaking.
10. 10“I always do that,” Nell whispered. Dara knew she meant dropping things, but wanted her to mean being frightened.
11. 11The man had already disappeared. Through the closed door came a bright chord, then somebody clearing a stubborn throat.
12. 12Nell put the pages into order. She paused at the first one, where Dara’s name crowded the printed title.
13. 13“That’s my song.” Her voice lost its cheerful lift. For the first time Dara noticed how young she looked.
14. 14Dara could have said that she knew. Instead she tugged the folder back and said, “It’s quite a common one.”
15. 15Nell returned to her chair. She pressed her palms against the red boots, leaving small dark prints on the leather.
16. 16The door opened again. This time Dara’s name was spoken slowly, as though it were an item being checked for damage.
17. 17Inside, three people sat behind a table. Only the woman in the middle looked up when Dara entered the room.
18. 18“Whenever you’re ready.” Dara placed the music on its stand. On the top page Nell had straightened a folded corner.
19. 19The first line came out thin but correct. The second sounded like something happening at the far end of a corridor.
20. 20She looked at the flattened corner. Nell had held it between a finger and thumb until it stayed in place.
21. 21Then Dara forgot a word. A blank opened inside the phrase, horribly public, and the accompaniment travelled on without her.
22. 22She let it go for one beat. When she began again, she sang more quietly, remembering Nell’s unfinished little whisper.
23. 23The woman in the middle stopped writing. Dara could not tell whether that was good; she kept her eyes above the table.
24. 24At the end nobody applauded. “Thank you,” said the woman. “You found something interesting when you stopped pushing so hard.”
25. 25Back in the waiting room, Nell was standing with her coat on. Her badge had come away from its pin.
26. 26“I might choose something else,” she said. “They’ll have heard it already.” She tried to fasten the badge one-handed.
27. 27Dara felt, with a sudden shameful pleasure, how easy it would be to agree and wish her luck at the door.
28. 28Instead she held out her hand for the pin. “Don’t change it for me. I didn’t sing it the way you will.”
29. 29Nell studied her face before giving her the badge. Dara fixed it to the coat, carefully missing the lining underneath.
30. 30When Nell’s number was called, Dara stayed in her chair. She would hear only the muffled music through the wall.

Original fiction written for this course.

The waiting room

Original contemporary prose fiction. Dara, a teenage singer, is waiting to audition for a place in a local performance company.

1. 1The room contained six chairs and a piano nobody was allowed to touch. Dara took the chair nearest the door.
2. 2Her number was forty-two. The paper badge lifted from her cardigan whenever she breathed deeply, exposing a damp corner.
3. 3Across from her, a girl in red boots mouthed the words of a song, silently shaping every extravagant vowel.
4. 4Dara recognised the tune. It was hers too, the piece she had practised until her family stopped requesting silence.
5. 5The girl saw her looking and smiled. “Nell,” she said, tapping her own badge. “Have you been waiting long?”
6. 6Dara answered with a shrug that she hoped suggested experience. She had arrived forty minutes before the stated time.
7. 7A man emerged carrying a clipboard. Number forty-one had not arrived, he announced; number forty-two would therefore be next.
8. 8Dara stood so suddenly that her folder struck the chair. Pages slid across the polished floor towards Nell’s boots.
9. 9Nell knelt at once, gathering the sheets with a briskness Dara mistook for impatience until she saw her hands shaking.
10. 10“I always do that,” Nell whispered. Dara knew she meant dropping things, but wanted her to mean being frightened.
11. 11The man had already disappeared. Through the closed door came a bright chord, then somebody clearing a stubborn throat.
12. 12Nell put the pages into order. She paused at the first one, where Dara’s name crowded the printed title.
13. 13“That’s my song.” Her voice lost its cheerful lift. For the first time Dara noticed how young she looked.
14. 14Dara could have said that she knew. Instead she tugged the folder back and said, “It’s quite a common one.”
15. 15Nell returned to her chair. She pressed her palms against the red boots, leaving small dark prints on the leather.
16. 16The door opened again. This time Dara’s name was spoken slowly, as though it were an item being checked for damage.
17. 17Inside, three people sat behind a table. Only the woman in the middle looked up when Dara entered the room.
18. 18“Whenever you’re ready.” Dara placed the music on its stand. On the top page Nell had straightened a folded corner.
19. 19The first line came out thin but correct. The second sounded like something happening at the far end of a corridor.
20. 20She looked at the flattened corner. Nell had held it between a finger and thumb until it stayed in place.
21. 21Then Dara forgot a word. A blank opened inside the phrase, horribly public, and the accompaniment travelled on without her.
22. 22She let it go for one beat. When she began again, she sang more quietly, remembering Nell’s unfinished little whisper.
23. 23The woman in the middle stopped writing. Dara could not tell whether that was good; she kept her eyes above the table.
24. 24At the end nobody applauded. “Thank you,” said the woman. “You found something interesting when you stopped pushing so hard.”
25. 25Back in the waiting room, Nell was standing with her coat on. Her badge had come away from its pin.
26. 26“I might choose something else,” she said. “They’ll have heard it already.” She tried to fasten the badge one-handed.
27. 27Dara felt, with a sudden shameful pleasure, how easy it would be to agree and wish her luck at the door.
28. 28Instead she held out her hand for the pin. “Don’t change it for me. I didn’t sing it the way you will.”
29. 29Nell studied her face before giving her the badge. Dara fixed it to the coat, carefully missing the lining underneath.
30. 30When Nell’s number was called, Dara stayed in her chair. She would hear only the muffled music through the wall.

Original fiction written for this course.