London's Only Ray of Sunlight

Set in wartime London, a boy has lost all good things in his life, except for one girl, Daisy.

 

 

 

‘What’s the matter?’
            ‘I'm nervous.’
            ‘You look lovely today.’
            ‘Thomas-’

‘Not that you don’t look beautiful all the time.’
            ‘I have to be at the shop in five.’
            ‘Do you not like it when I call you beautiful?’
            ‘You know I do.’
            ‘Then what’s wrong?’
            ‘I love you, Thomas, but please just-’
            ‘You love me?’
            ‘I love you.’    
            The other day, I was trying to describe her to someone. All I could think of was my mother’s Apple Pie. 

 

Back when it was acceptable to be seen baking with your mother, I'd help her make it. I even had my own recipe list. It makes me laugh these days. It’s the most simple recipe list imaginable but one that I treasured more than anything. All I ever wanted to do was to become a chef.

I'd head to the garden and gather as many as I could carry in the bottom of my shirt. 

 

a dozen apples in prefect coniditon condition

wash and chop them

½ them and ½ them again. Slice into nice sizes

Layer in dish

roll pastree - not too thin -

 

 

I'd always make a mess of the pastry, so I would just giggle as my mother aggressively rolled it out instead. Her crazy brown hair, curly and sugar ridden, would fly to and fro with each movement. 

 

add cinnimon, syrup, raisons and other sweet things

 

It was the best thing I had ever tasted.

            But that was when I was younger.
            There is no luxury of apple pie.
            Luxury isn't anywhere anymore.

            Today, a soldier is all that a boy can aspire to be.

            A few weeks after the rationing began, I went to the shop. For the life of me I can't remember what I went in for but, whatever it was, I left without it. The owner, Mr. Burbage, had hired a new cashier girl. Daisy Fenchurch. She’d thrown her hair over her face in, what seemed like, boredom and was fiddling with the blonde strands that fell just above her scarlet lips. It would appear that she had noticed the skinny, 17 year-old boy, in clothes too big for him, staring at her. She brushed back her hair, tilted her head and smiled. A slight smirk that raised her left rosy cheek. She asked a question. I said some words that probably didn't make much sense and I walked out of the shop.
            I went back every day.
            A few weeks later, I worked up the courage to ask her:
            ‘Do you, um, do you have any dates?’
            ‘Sorry?’
            ‘Dates... Do you, uh, do you-’
            ‘I'd love to.’
            ‘What? I'm sorry I meant- what?’
            ‘Where do you wanna go?’

            Three months later and I still thank God that she misunderstood me. If she hadn’t, I’d still be the strange, scruffy boy that lingered in the shop every day for half an hour before buying another tin of peas. But there she was. In front of me in a yellow sundress, smiling that same smile she had the first time I ever saw her. Her ruby lips glistened under the dim glow of the street lamp. The hot, thick  fog of the cobbled streets wrapped itself around everything. Unless you’d looked at her, nobody would’ve guessed it was summer. To me, she was like London’s only ray of sunlight.

 

            ‘Burbage’ll be expecting me back.’

            ‘Daisy, wait, please tell me what’s the matter.’

            ‘Can I tell you later tonight? After my shift.’ 

            ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

            ‘I thought you might,’ she giggled; it warmed me. Her perfect teeth stunned me every time. ‘Goodnight, Tom.’ She gave me a delicate kiss on the lips.

            ‘Night.’

            Her sweet sugary scent trailed after her and the fringe of her dress danced in the light breeze as she walked quickly up the street and around the corner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Suddenly, I saw it.

 

                                            It poked a hole in the clouds.

                                        A beam of light.

                                     One.

                                 Two.

                             Six. Six beams of light.

                          They pierced the sky.                       

          It was happening.

                 The screams began.

The shriek of the siren tumbled through the city.

                                     The yellow lights scoured over the town.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                        It fell.

           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                        It fell like a brick in water. 

            ‘TO THE SHELTERS EVERYONE, NOW! GO, GO, GO!’

            Screams and cries filled the air as stampedes of people ran towards the nearest shelter. They piled into me. A roar shuddered the ground as a flash of light enveloped the clouds. Firelight began to flicker in the distance like trapped souls in a fever of agony. The flames licked at the skyline. 

            ‘DAISY!’ I strained my neck over the crowds to look for her. The wail of the sirens numbed my ears. ‘DAISY!’

            ‘SIR!’ An officer signaled me towards the shelter.

            ‘NO! I’VE LOST-’

            ‘INSIDE!’ He forced me towards the entrance. The streets were now almost empty. I saw another fall from the skies. He pushed me inside. I fell to the ground and the door slammed shut behind us. 

           

 

 

 

           

 

 

 

 

 

I could hear a ringing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Short                                                            s  i  n  g  l  e                                                               breaths.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I brought myself to my knees. Tears blurred my vision. Something stabbed at my lungs. My chest was tight and my throat, sore. I could feel my body trembling. Thoughts raced through my head. None of them good ones.

Did she make it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            But then, 

my eardrum popped; like I’d suddenly reentered the atmosphere and I heard it, above all the others.  

It drifted towards me like a liquid, like sunlight unveiling the shade. It danced over my body and ran down my spine.

            A beautiful woman weaved towards me, crying; her face bleeding from the wounds. Her yellow sundress now caked in dust and dirt.

            ‘Thomas,’ she managed through heavy gasps. She grabbed at my face and lifted it towards hers. Tears slid over her grazed cheeks. ‘Thomas, I’m pregnant.’ 

            She waited for my response, her eyes searching mine. I grabbed her fiercely and we held each other in silence, panting with relief. She was my luxury; my apple pie.