Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Business As Usual by Betty Chatterjee (most read books .TXT) 📖
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that there was a supervised play group every morning where Simon could make friends.
Those mornings were bliss for Susan and Jeremy! It was a pleasure to stroll along by the harbor, where they could admire the luxury yachts and rub shoulders with the smart, the rich and the influential.
One Tuesday morning after shopping for a few delicacies at the market in the Place des Lices they stopped at a café for an aperitif. The waiter took their order and they sat back watching the world go by. It was a few minutes before they noticed that on the opposite side of the street was yet another pavement café, in which the clientele was elegant, and self-confidently very gay.
Delicately raising her eyebrows Susan whispered:
' Goodness, what a mixed crowd!'
'You can say that again! There do seem to be a lot of those types here; must have something to do with their economic clout; they don’t have any kids to feed, clothe and service.’
Jeremy pursed his lips and frowned before continuing:
'Not that I have anything against them, of course. I’m broad-minded, live and let live, but why on earth do they have to display themselves? Just look at those two over there.'
'Where?'
'There, the lovey-dovey lesbian couple!'
'Oh, yes they’re holding hands and looking deep into each other’s eyes, Oh, oh, oh isn’t it touching? Definitely not spring chickens, either.' She sniggered.
'The one facing this way must be the butch, don’t you think so Sue?'
'Oh, yes, must be. Judging from what we can see of her better half she is really chic. They’re calling the waiter now. We’ll get a better view when they get up to leave.'
After paying the bill the couple walked hand in hand across the terrace and started to cross the street. As they did so Susan uttered a cry of disbelief and horror.
The Butch’s better half was her mother. However she was no longer the frumpy, gray haired, stout Granny figure with a face like the back of a bus. At least a stone lighter she was dressed in an emerald green sundress and high-heeled sandals. Her hair was elegantly styled and auburn. With regard to her face; well after all, it was only Jeremy who had likened it to a back of a bus, so let us take that remark with a pinch of salt.
Elizabeth and her companion were so preoccupied with each other and deep in conversation, that it seemed they would pass by the table where Jeremy and Susan were sitting without even noticing them. Before Jeremy had a chance to stop her Susan jumped up from her chair, dashed forward and grabbing her mother’s arm hissed loudly:
'Mum, MUM fancy meeting you here!'
Elizabeth stopped dead and turned to face her daughter. She paled and smiled uncertainly but continued holding her companion’s hand.
'Susan! Vera, this is Susan – Susan – Vera.'
Outraged by the banality of this conventional response Susan raised her other hand and was about to slap her mother’s face, when Vera pushed her way in between them.
'P—off, VERA. I’ve got a bone to pick with my mother!' Screeched Susan.
‘Whether I decide to do that, depends on two things: you behaving in a civilized way and Elizabeth deciding whether I should to stay or go! If you even attempt to lay a finger on your mother again, I’ll call the nearest gendarme. Understood?'
Jeremy by now had joined the group, and putting his arm round Susan’s shoulder said:
‘Calm down Sue, everybody’s looking at us! The last thing we want is for someone to call the police.’
Vera nodded as if in agreement then she turned to Elizabeth:
‘What would you like me to do?’
'I’ll join you later at the flat.'
'Sure you’ll be ok?'
'Sure.'
Squeezing Elizabeth’s hand affectionately, she flashed a threatening look at Susan.Then she set off down the street without any further ado.'
Elizabeth frowned and said very firmly:
'You have a bone to pick with me Susan. Pick it if you like, but Jeremy can go off and amuse himself whilst you’re at it.'
'You owe us both an explanation.'
'Susan, I owe you very little and Jeremy even less. Blood is thicker than water, or at least that’s what I’ve been brainwashed in to thinking; so I’ll give you a chance to pick your bone. Yes or no?'
'Yes, then.'
'Goodbye Jeremy I hope for both our sakes we never meet again.'
Jeremy shocked into silence gazed at his wife as if appealing for her permission.
'Go on Jeremy this does not look as though it will take very long. Go fetch Simon; I’ll see you both later.'
Jeremy beat his retreat.
'Anything you have to say Susan can be said here and now. We’ll go and sit at the table where you were sitting before.'
Silently Susan followed her mother to the table and the two women sat confronting each other.
'Well, Susan?'
'You let us down! You underhand, crafty bitch, you let us down. We needed you. Simon needed you. You’re his Granny and you let him down. He valued those Wednesday afternoons.'
'Really if I was so valuable, how come you only had time for me on Wednesday afternoons?
Nothing to say? Let me tell you why, because apart from my childminding skills I was persona non grata – not smart enough, not interesting enough, too much of a reminder of your humble origins. You never asked me what I did, whom I saw and whether I had any needs, did you? This measly weekly ration of time with my only grandson was crumbs from a rich man’s table. With lots of time on my hands I began pondering about my life in general and asking myself a lot of questions. What if I had done this instead of that? Supposing I had listened to my own heart instead of keeping to the straight and narrow? Why did I sit at home brooding when everybody else was doing their own thing?'
'You could have told me!'
'Oh really? The only time you rang me was when you wanted to bitch about somebody or something! When I rang you, you were too busy to talk. I’ll ring you later on this week, when I’ve got time: you’d say. How often did you get time, Susan? How could you be sure that I was still alive and kicking when you did not hear from me for days at a time? Oh, I forget, you could always check up on me by seeing whether I was on-line, couldn’t you? I click therefore I am!'
'You could have told me.'
'If I had said what I am saying now, I would have lost those Wednesday afternoons.
One day I got up early and went into town. I pottered a bit, I shopped a bit and then I decided to eat lunch at the ‘Scarlet Pimpernel’ It was crowded, so the only available seat was at a table where another person was already seated. That person was Vera and we got into conversation. At that time she was a stranger in town; being an industrial chemist from the States, who had been seconded to a Copenhagen firm, she was glad to be able to talk to somebody with local knowledge. We spent the rest of the day together.
The next day she invited me out to dinner. For the first time for many, many years I was with somebody who actually was interested in me and my opinions. We became friends and later on, as you have probably gathered, lovers. Now, I could not have told you that, could I? Admit it Susan, if sex and the over-sixties seems kinky when it’s between a man and a woman, how would you describe it, when it is between two elderly men or between two elderly women? When you didn’t have time to share every day things with you how could I share something like this? Besides it was and is my business.
When Vera told me that she would soon have to go back to L.A. again and that she wanted me to go with her, I didn’t know what to do. I thought it through very carefully and decided to follow my heart. Simon was fast reaching the age when he'd understand that Granny was just one of a succession of childminders. Brenda was much more important to him than I was. By the way, where is Simon this morning?'
'At the holiday camp’s playgroup.'
'Nothing like a busman’s holiday, is there Susan? 48 weeks a year at the kindergarten, then at a holiday camp playgroup in the summer holidays. But, then that’s none of my business, is it? '
'No, it’s none of your business, as it happens!'
'Agreed! You owe me no explanations. I owe you no explanations. When I chose Vera I cut and tied my own umbilical cord.'
'Susan, I must go, let me pay for your drinks. Believe it or not I loved you, still do in my own way, but the time was ripe to say goodbye.'
Then dropping a twenty euro note on the table Elizabeth got up and with a nonchalant wave of her hand walked out of their lives.
© Betty Chatterjee 2010. All rights reserved Imprint
Those mornings were bliss for Susan and Jeremy! It was a pleasure to stroll along by the harbor, where they could admire the luxury yachts and rub shoulders with the smart, the rich and the influential.
One Tuesday morning after shopping for a few delicacies at the market in the Place des Lices they stopped at a café for an aperitif. The waiter took their order and they sat back watching the world go by. It was a few minutes before they noticed that on the opposite side of the street was yet another pavement café, in which the clientele was elegant, and self-confidently very gay.
Delicately raising her eyebrows Susan whispered:
' Goodness, what a mixed crowd!'
'You can say that again! There do seem to be a lot of those types here; must have something to do with their economic clout; they don’t have any kids to feed, clothe and service.’
Jeremy pursed his lips and frowned before continuing:
'Not that I have anything against them, of course. I’m broad-minded, live and let live, but why on earth do they have to display themselves? Just look at those two over there.'
'Where?'
'There, the lovey-dovey lesbian couple!'
'Oh, yes they’re holding hands and looking deep into each other’s eyes, Oh, oh, oh isn’t it touching? Definitely not spring chickens, either.' She sniggered.
'The one facing this way must be the butch, don’t you think so Sue?'
'Oh, yes, must be. Judging from what we can see of her better half she is really chic. They’re calling the waiter now. We’ll get a better view when they get up to leave.'
After paying the bill the couple walked hand in hand across the terrace and started to cross the street. As they did so Susan uttered a cry of disbelief and horror.
The Butch’s better half was her mother. However she was no longer the frumpy, gray haired, stout Granny figure with a face like the back of a bus. At least a stone lighter she was dressed in an emerald green sundress and high-heeled sandals. Her hair was elegantly styled and auburn. With regard to her face; well after all, it was only Jeremy who had likened it to a back of a bus, so let us take that remark with a pinch of salt.
Elizabeth and her companion were so preoccupied with each other and deep in conversation, that it seemed they would pass by the table where Jeremy and Susan were sitting without even noticing them. Before Jeremy had a chance to stop her Susan jumped up from her chair, dashed forward and grabbing her mother’s arm hissed loudly:
'Mum, MUM fancy meeting you here!'
Elizabeth stopped dead and turned to face her daughter. She paled and smiled uncertainly but continued holding her companion’s hand.
'Susan! Vera, this is Susan – Susan – Vera.'
Outraged by the banality of this conventional response Susan raised her other hand and was about to slap her mother’s face, when Vera pushed her way in between them.
'P—off, VERA. I’ve got a bone to pick with my mother!' Screeched Susan.
‘Whether I decide to do that, depends on two things: you behaving in a civilized way and Elizabeth deciding whether I should to stay or go! If you even attempt to lay a finger on your mother again, I’ll call the nearest gendarme. Understood?'
Jeremy by now had joined the group, and putting his arm round Susan’s shoulder said:
‘Calm down Sue, everybody’s looking at us! The last thing we want is for someone to call the police.’
Vera nodded as if in agreement then she turned to Elizabeth:
‘What would you like me to do?’
'I’ll join you later at the flat.'
'Sure you’ll be ok?'
'Sure.'
Squeezing Elizabeth’s hand affectionately, she flashed a threatening look at Susan.Then she set off down the street without any further ado.'
Elizabeth frowned and said very firmly:
'You have a bone to pick with me Susan. Pick it if you like, but Jeremy can go off and amuse himself whilst you’re at it.'
'You owe us both an explanation.'
'Susan, I owe you very little and Jeremy even less. Blood is thicker than water, or at least that’s what I’ve been brainwashed in to thinking; so I’ll give you a chance to pick your bone. Yes or no?'
'Yes, then.'
'Goodbye Jeremy I hope for both our sakes we never meet again.'
Jeremy shocked into silence gazed at his wife as if appealing for her permission.
'Go on Jeremy this does not look as though it will take very long. Go fetch Simon; I’ll see you both later.'
Jeremy beat his retreat.
'Anything you have to say Susan can be said here and now. We’ll go and sit at the table where you were sitting before.'
Silently Susan followed her mother to the table and the two women sat confronting each other.
'Well, Susan?'
'You let us down! You underhand, crafty bitch, you let us down. We needed you. Simon needed you. You’re his Granny and you let him down. He valued those Wednesday afternoons.'
'Really if I was so valuable, how come you only had time for me on Wednesday afternoons?
Nothing to say? Let me tell you why, because apart from my childminding skills I was persona non grata – not smart enough, not interesting enough, too much of a reminder of your humble origins. You never asked me what I did, whom I saw and whether I had any needs, did you? This measly weekly ration of time with my only grandson was crumbs from a rich man’s table. With lots of time on my hands I began pondering about my life in general and asking myself a lot of questions. What if I had done this instead of that? Supposing I had listened to my own heart instead of keeping to the straight and narrow? Why did I sit at home brooding when everybody else was doing their own thing?'
'You could have told me!'
'Oh really? The only time you rang me was when you wanted to bitch about somebody or something! When I rang you, you were too busy to talk. I’ll ring you later on this week, when I’ve got time: you’d say. How often did you get time, Susan? How could you be sure that I was still alive and kicking when you did not hear from me for days at a time? Oh, I forget, you could always check up on me by seeing whether I was on-line, couldn’t you? I click therefore I am!'
'You could have told me.'
'If I had said what I am saying now, I would have lost those Wednesday afternoons.
One day I got up early and went into town. I pottered a bit, I shopped a bit and then I decided to eat lunch at the ‘Scarlet Pimpernel’ It was crowded, so the only available seat was at a table where another person was already seated. That person was Vera and we got into conversation. At that time she was a stranger in town; being an industrial chemist from the States, who had been seconded to a Copenhagen firm, she was glad to be able to talk to somebody with local knowledge. We spent the rest of the day together.
The next day she invited me out to dinner. For the first time for many, many years I was with somebody who actually was interested in me and my opinions. We became friends and later on, as you have probably gathered, lovers. Now, I could not have told you that, could I? Admit it Susan, if sex and the over-sixties seems kinky when it’s between a man and a woman, how would you describe it, when it is between two elderly men or between two elderly women? When you didn’t have time to share every day things with you how could I share something like this? Besides it was and is my business.
When Vera told me that she would soon have to go back to L.A. again and that she wanted me to go with her, I didn’t know what to do. I thought it through very carefully and decided to follow my heart. Simon was fast reaching the age when he'd understand that Granny was just one of a succession of childminders. Brenda was much more important to him than I was. By the way, where is Simon this morning?'
'At the holiday camp’s playgroup.'
'Nothing like a busman’s holiday, is there Susan? 48 weeks a year at the kindergarten, then at a holiday camp playgroup in the summer holidays. But, then that’s none of my business, is it? '
'No, it’s none of your business, as it happens!'
'Agreed! You owe me no explanations. I owe you no explanations. When I chose Vera I cut and tied my own umbilical cord.'
'Susan, I must go, let me pay for your drinks. Believe it or not I loved you, still do in my own way, but the time was ripe to say goodbye.'
Then dropping a twenty euro note on the table Elizabeth got up and with a nonchalant wave of her hand walked out of their lives.
© Betty Chatterjee 2010. All rights reserved Imprint
Publication Date: 01-01-2010
All Rights Reserved
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