Lost In Bath

Jack Rolf wondered the streets of Bath, desperately looking for the Jane Austin Museum, uncaring in anything but that goal. Pulling at his suit jacket collar he shot an angered look towards the sky, cursing the heavens for their cruelty and the mass of drifting snow that had opened upon him. White powder was beginning to blanket the fine architecture of the city, the cathedrals and churches once tanned stone now shone like clouds against a grey sky, make-believing to passers-by that this was true paradise. The architectural pinnacle of utopia.  

His highly polished pointed shoes barely skimming the cobbles as he dashed, Jack found himself absently searching for the many black signposts that littered the city, to discover that all had disappeared in the growing white out. Bloody typical, he thought, all those years as a kid wishing for a white Christmas and not a frigging flake, now that I don’t want it we get snowed under! Hurriedly he reached up to the nearest sign and whipped his naked hand over the icy metal. His fingers blue he read the golden description.  Roman Baths. Not right. Cursing softly under his breath, he began to wipe all the leafs on the post he could reach, not many given that the post was so high. Reaching back down he shoved his freezing hands into his shallow pockets to try to warm them, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he looked about frantically from someone who could help him.

                The street was almost empty save for an elderly couple draped in heavy coats under a black umbrella, dithering along on their way home. Jack tried calling to them as he ran forwards, hoping to catch them as they began to unlock a jet wooden door to their house. But as he quickened his pace on the freezing cobbles the forming ice beneath his feet took his highly polished shoes from beneath him. A striking blur of architecture and sky race over his eyes in a second, as dash it all, his head hit cobblestone and blackness took him.

                He’d been out for only a moment he knew as snow soothed the back of his aching head, waking him from brief unconscious. Letting his eyes flutter open to the still falling snow arriving on his face, Jack pulled himself up from the pavement, almost falling again in his attempt. Dusting down what had been his best black suit, he looked about him for his fallen brief case and leather jotter. Finding each in the gutter he was then searching for someone else to ask for directions when he noticed movement at the top of some high steps leading into the next street. Gracefully a figure moved towards the top step, each small footfall lightly tapping against the flagstones as the figure began descend.

                Smooth lengths of pale green muslin skirted the stone, shinning prettily against the white. The folds of fabric though seemingly drifting at the women’s feet clung to her waist perfectly, showing her feminine curves with enticing delicacy. A small cropped jacked lay over her slopping shoulders, the heavy cream material surly keeping out the chill, decorated with clusters of embroidered black roses. Her leather gloved fingers seemed to stroke the railing as she descended, almost floating. She stood tall, back straight in a fashion most uncommon to all the women Jack knew, her figure elegant, thin neck directly held and her carriage well practised.  A straw bonnet covered with a fringe of lace and tied in a flamboyant bow at the neck with pink ribbon sat upon tightly styled tawny curls. She smiled at him as she reached the last step, placing both hands into what appeared to be a mink skin muff.

                Staring at her, Jake did not notice at first that the side door to a nearby church had opened nor the many robed choir boys that had begun to pour out with the vicar and their music master. All he could comprehend at that moment was that he must have been transported back in time two hundred years, for the sight of the city and this women surly belonged to such a spectacular period in time. But this vision was soon wiped from his mind as the choir boys all walked across his view carrying backpacks and adidas coats. Jack nodded to the vicar as he went by cheerfully greeting him a good morning.

                Looking up once more after the rabble had gone to where she had been Jack found that she had disappeared. Looking wildly in every direction, Jack searched the many side streets and alley ways looking for his Miss Austin. Deciding to take the ally nearest the set of steps she had come from Jack blotted down its darkened length in but a moment. Reaching the open street on the other side he observes another ally, this one more alike a tunnel with its arched ceiling. Once again he ran, clinging hold on his wet briefcase, his jotter pressed tightly against his chest. Breath casting out sliver as he burst into the other street he turned right out of the tunnels mouth to discover a tall iron fence with a hedge the other side of it. Turning sharply about he lunched himself once more into a run before realising that anyone was in front on him.

                Colliding with the women, he came to an abrupt halt as she was carried forward. Giving a shrill scream as she headed toward the pavement Jack shot out a hand to the rescue. Grabbing a hold on those gloved fingers his grip tightened as her full weight jolted her arm. For a moment they stood thus, he holding her but inches from the snowy ground whilst she drew in many alarmed breaths.

                Giving a swift tug of her arm he let go of her hand as she flew into his chest. He caught her and steadied her on her feet before he let go again, stepping back to retrieve his once again fallen briefcase.

                Waiting for the women to speak, Jake could not help but study her face, those magnificent jade eyes, the shine of amber he had not seen in her hair before. That brow as it turned from an alarmed frown to a scowl.

                “Are you following me?” She accused in a quite but thunderous tone.

                “What? No! I just...”

                Jack stopped midsentence, a bout of shouting catching his ear, his gaze leaving her as he attention flew across the curving road to a small green scattered with scares trees and benches, a few snow covered cars in the background as he observed a group of boys racing over the white grass, throwing handfuls of powdery snow at one another. There was a little girl with them, looking oddly out of place in her little pink coat, carrying what looked to be a soft toy shaped like a mallard.

                “Well are you?” Came a small shriek from in front of him as the women became impatience.

                “No I was looking for the museum...”

                The girl had started wondering from the main group and rather hurriedly too, apparently afraid of the growing snowball fight. Jack was sure those older kids where meant to be looking after her but they seemed too involved. She was starting to get quite far; maybe he should give a shout?

                “Museum?” Questioned Miss Austen.

                Jack did not hear her. The purr of a coming car had alerted him and he was off before he knew, dashing over the road in front of it as he saw the girl beginning to step out into the road. Grabbing hold of her in one arm he pulled her off of the ground as a car horn blared, tires screeching as it stopped.

                “Crazy fool!” Yelled the driver though the open window as he drove on.

                Landing on the edge of the snow covered grass; Jack put the girl down quickly, holding her gently at arm’s length as she began to cry. The boys had begun to run over, some yelling and shouting at Jack, some telling him to get away, others asking the girl if she was alright.

                One of the youngsters grabbed hold of the girl, pulling her away and into his shoulder as he held her sobbing, the protective big brother finally at work.

                “You’re all right Elli, you’re alright!” He said soothingly, stroking her back absently. “Thank you sir! I would never have reached her in time!”

                Jack stood up, brushing the icy powder from his trousers somewhat annoyed. Anger getting the better of him now that his relief for the girls safety had subsided, Jack took a tall stance, hands on his waist as he towered over the youths.

                “Are you meant to be watching this girl?” He asked, brow knitted in a frown.

                The boy nodded wide eyed, pulling the girl closer to him, his friends gathered around, backing away looking guilty.

                “Then best you do so in future!” Jack reprimanded, turning form the boys with a gentle curse under his breath. Walking slowly back across the road, knees slightly shaken, he was surprised to find a green clad figure bending over a mass of white sheets blown across the tarmac, scattered from Jack’s now grubby jotter.

                Jack smiled as he bent down to retrieve the black folder and a few of its pages, holding out his hand for the rest.

                “Thank you.” He said as Miss Austin handed them over.

                “What you did...why? That was amazing...I can’t believe...You silly man!” She smiled shyly, lowering her head as she gazed up at him though her thick lashes, a envy and worship dancing in her eyes.

                Jack laughed at her confusion, motioning that they should return to the pavement.

                “You are a fan of Austin?” She asked politely, her enragement forgotten.

                “Quite.” Replied Jack, his admiration playing in his voice. “In fact I was looking for the museum before when...”

                “Professor Rolf?” She asked, face suddenly a beam of delight.

                Jack nodded, unsure of how she knew him. Unable to grasp it, he busied himself with the collection of his briefcase for the third time before following his lady.

                “I’m Elizabeth Foxglove, my husband is excepting you.” She smiled, moving up the steps to one of the houses.

                Jack stared after her as she entered the building he had not noticed before, a white façade with a sapphire door, the black iron railing flowing outwards like an embrace, a small statue of the writer now cover like a snowman in frost.

                Jack stood there for a long moment, on a snow covered cobble pavement in Bath, he destination reached, gazing up at a location he had always wanted to visit, the house of a great novelist, and all the excitement of his arrival, the dull pain in the back of his head, his collision with a beautiful women and a daring if not stupid rescue all but forgotten as a single word crossed his mind.

                Bugger.

Author's Note

I wrote this after playing a game in a writing magazine I got from Waterstones. It consisted of a grip for which you had to roll a dice and depending on your results it told you what elements you had to use to get you started on a short story. My results where snow, toy duck, collage professor, unsuitably dressed, and the city of Bath :-)

Reviews

[spence]

I read the story before the authors note and I must say that i'm very impressed at how well you knitted the arbitrary elements together in this. I've never been to Bath, but you painted a vivid picture of the old town that matched my photographic experience of the place.
This is well written with excellent descriptions and laugh out loud comedy moments that kept me smiling throughout.
On the more critical side, however, I think the first slip would have been even funnier had the briefcase and jotter been mentioned prior to Jack's fall. The initial image of him wiping the sign and putting his hands in his pockets had me envisioning Jack as being empty handed, but he then retrieves the items once he has fallen and banged his head. There were a few typo's throughout, that didn't make much difference to be honest- just want to point some out- 'lunched' should be 'launched' at one point and also 'quite' should be 'quiet'- oh yeah and 'Jack' becomes 'Jake' about halfway through.
None of this detracted from what was an enjoyable read and all in all I would say this is a challenge met succesfully.
I like your style, take care, spence

[An owl on the moon]

I loved the imagery and feel to your writing. There was a depth to your characters.. a realism to their dialogue.. and a beauty and vividness to the world you walk us through. Wonderful, often playful story!