The Watchmaker

Short story I had to write for my Literature class - had to be in the style of Katherine Mansfield. I don't think I wrote it very well... but I haven't gotten my mark back yet so fingers crossed!

The Watchmaker

Eva Wodehouse sat in her usual corner table at the tiny, dim-lit cafe she had frequented nearly everyday she had been in the city.    Her intimidating demeanor was often accompanied by a young cheerful man, seemingly her opposite.  She did not disturb the waiters after they had set down her tea, much to their delight.  The young, sullen woman sat beside the window was not a favoured customer.  “That poor man she’s always with.  Modern women like her don’t deserve such kind-hearted men,” the oldest attendant said.  “She’s not very friendly either... I try avoid her.  No good. ” 

“Mmm. Modern women. Don’t appreciate what they’ve got.” The oldest attendant’s friend murmured in agreement, nodding her head and glancing towards the topic of conversation, who was gazing out the window, hand holding her head up as if too heavy.

Eva liked the seat by the window because of the coloured stained glass, the way their glittering fragments of colour shone on her table.  It reminded her of being underwater and looking up at the broken pieces of sunlight trying to break through her momentary watery bed.  It distracted her from the lost time she was being dealt waiting for him ... Tommy was always so scattered and -

“Eva! I’m so sorry I’m late.  I completely forgot I was meant to meet you here. You see, there I was, waiting for you outside your apartment for almost half an hour until your doorman - who was rather rude - came out and told me that if you weren’t there any time soon, I had to leave as I was scaring the receptionists.  Honestly, Eva, am I really so scary? I didn’t think...”

Tommy’s grave voice disappeared into the background.  No, he was far from scary.  Like clockwork, Eva found herself questioning why she was engaged to the boy.  More like a mouse.  Tiny, brainless mouse.  Her thoughts disintegrated as she realised he was no longer speaking and was holding the menu up to his face.  Tommy ... such a childish face, as if he still had some growing to do.  But at twenty seven years old he was quite done.  

Tommy was struggling.  Forgot his glasses again.  His blue eyes were narrowed until they were nearly shut, and the menu was pressing against his nose.  Eva sighed. 

“Want me to read it out for you?” 

Eva woke late next day.  Upon realization of the time she, as quickly as she could, threw back the light silk covers and rushed to get ready.  As she walked out of the bathroom not ten minutes later, drying her long, dark hair with a towel, Eva noticed the flowers on her vanity table.  Tucked in amongst the bright reds and pinks of the tulips lay an ivory card with a short message.  A scratchy looking heart, with ‘Thomas’ scrawled underneath.  Why? Must he always smother her with his 

sappy... thoughts, flowers... Eva felt a tinge of guilt for her thoughts but then -

“Ugh,” she muttered as she picked up the bouquet that was cluttering her favourite spot in the apartment.  She sat in front of the vanity’s large mirror and with no time to waste, tossed it onto a nearby armchair and admired her collection of perfumes, creams and make up before beginning her favourite routine of the day. 

Eva exited the apartment building, giving a modest nod to Henry the doorman - the rather rude doorman, according to Tommy.  The cold wind bit and scratched at her face and made her eyes water.   Head down, grey coat wrapped around her delicate frame, she made her way up the empty street, stained with rain.   Images of Tommy and his guilty flowers and almost blind eyesight filled her head.  Suddenly,

“Eva! Eva! ... Eva-stop-walking-so-fast!” a high pitched voice snapped Eva out of her thoughts.  Rather irritated, she turned to face whoever was clunking along behind her, high heels tapping hurriedly on the footpath.  Eva let out a sigh of anticipation.  It was Minnie Morris - or Cora Morris, one of the dreadful Morris twins.   No, no, it was Minnie waving maniacally at her, Eva decided.  The twins resembled blonde Greek columns, however Minnie more so, her tall skinny body tripping over her shoes as if it were extremely hard for her to hold herself up as she trotted down the street.  Hadn’t she recently gotten engaged to ... Eva often forgot his name; she was yet to meet the poor man.  Ah yes, the enormous glittering rock that masked a majority of her left hand made an appearance, catching the winter sunlight and almost blinding her.  

“Oh, hello darling,” Eva smiled tightly.  Not today Minnie, she sighed internally.   She had just wanted a quiet morning, probably stopping by that little cafe first,  and then browsing through the nearby markets.  Not associating with people.  

“Didn’t you hear me calling? About four times I called your name. You were all wrapped up in your thoughts again, weren’t you?  Yes, I know that look.  Always a million miles away, you are.”  Minnie said, in her usual quick way.   “Anyway, I’m so glad I came upon you, dear, otherwise I’d be left all by myself....”  She paused, waiting expectantly for Eva to ask where she was off to that would leave her so alone.  When that did not come, she continued.  “There’s a small art exhibition down Victoria Street in that old rundown theatre.  They’ve done it up real nice - it’s meant to be a dedication to European painters ... I was meant to be going with my love -” Eva felt a wave of nausea at the childlike term.  Minnie continued, “...but he’s dreadfully busy lately, he has no time for me anymore.  But, of course, you know how men are once they know they’ve got you...” She trailed off, looking rather sad. 

“Yes,  I can imagine.”  No, Eva could not imagine.  Tommy acted the same as he always had, unfortunately. The two women reached the end of the street and turned the corner together.

“Anyway,” The wind swept Minnie’s long blonde curls into her face and stuck to her red lipstick.  “I then asked Cora to accompany myself, but art appreciation is just not her thing.  How shameful, really, don’t you think?” Eva murmured in agreement. “Sometimes I wonder how we could possibly be related, let alone twins!  You and I are much more alike, don’t you think Eva?” Without waiting for a reply, Minnie then got to her point.  “Would you like to come with me?  It’ll be so fun! Please Eva, please, I can’t imagine going all by myself!”

One doesn’t argue with a Morris twin.  

The abandoned theatre was done up rather nice, as Minnie had proclaimed.  It was a beautiful old building, built sometime in the early 1800’s.  Eva often walked past it on her day trips to the nearby markets, but had never really stopped to admire it.  The large white oak doors, with silver handles shaped like lions, opened up into the elegant grand foyer where there was a small crowd of people waiting to be let in to the exhibition.  The high ceiling was carved with decorative art, and there were several extravagant chandeliers that hung low,  their light reflecting on the black and white marble floor.   But there was still the hint of abandonment: cracks that had not yet been filled, locked doors and a sense of nostalgia; of what it used to be, over a hundred years ago.   

Minnie was ecstatic.  “Oh Eva, isn’t it beautiful?  Look, the artworks begin through here!”  She took hold of Eva’s hand with her small bony one, and they continued through.  

But one can only handle the company of a Morris twin for so long.  Within an hour, Minnie was distracted not by the French art, but by a group of tourists who had fallen in love with her accent.  The theatre was stuffy and thankfully Minnie did not notice her slip outside into the cooler afternoon.  The sad old building, no matter how nice it had been done up, gave her a feeling of haunted emptiness.   Up and down the street were small shops, the kind that seemed to fade into the wall as you walked past them.  Eva had been past this street many times, but now, observing the names above the doors, she did not recall them ever being there.  A textile store with bright patterns hung in the window ... a fruit shop next to a florist, a tailor, a second hand store with old shoes thrown in a basket out the front.  And then the watchmakers.   Eva stopped here.  

Her sense of foreboding grew strong. ‘Roscoe’s Watchmakers. Est. 1884’ read the green sign nailed above the door.  She pushed the door open, and a tin doorbell rang.  It was a lovely little store, clean without being too neat; cosy, lived-in.   There was no one in the main room apart from Eva.  Her shoes tapped on the polished dark wood floor as she browsed the cases upon cases of watches.   They were all so magically beautiful and carefully detailed - she had never seen anything like them.    Suddenly a door near the back was flung open and a tall figure walked through, head down, fiddling with a watch.   It startled Eva out of her admiration - she had not even noticed the door was there.  This, in turn, startled the dark figure that had just come through.

“Ah!”

“Oh! I’m so sorry -”
“That’s quite alright, I -”

For once in her life, a man made Eva lost for words.  He was not the most handsome she had seen but instantly she felt that he must be meant for her.  She was meant to meet him here, today, at this very minute.  It was all planned.  He was waiting here, for her to find him -

He smiled a crooked smile.  “Are you repairing or buying?” 

“Buying.”  Thomas needed a new watch, Eva decided.  “I... don’t know what I’m looking for.”
The Watchmaker frowned thoughtfully and took a key out of his pocket.  “May I ask who it’s for?”

“My fiance,” Eva immediately regretted uttering those words.  No, no, he must understand that it’s not real; a teenage joke taken too far.   He unlocked one of the glass cases and took out a row of watches, laid out on the counter for Eva to observe.   

“These are our most popular,”  The Watchmaker said in a soft voice that sounded like he did not use it often.  His deep brown eyes crinkled at the corners as they bore into Eva’s.   She could stare at his face forever, she thought to herself.  It was nothing like Thomas’ - her Watchmaker was rough and thin-lipped but Eva felt safer and more right than she ever had.   She was meant to be here, with him.  She was sure of it, fate had led her to him - oh, all her anger and annoyance at Thomas these past few months had been for a reason!  She was not meant to be with him, but with The Watchmaker, here, in this tiny store, she did not want to ever leave ... 

“They’re all lovely.” But Eva was drawn to one. She picked up a black leather watch.  A tree was sketched onto the face.  

“That one’s my favourite.” The Watchmaker tapped its face, touching her hand for a split second before hastily pulling away.   Silence filled the store.  Eva knew he was thinking what she was - she had found him, finally, words did not need to be said or they would ruin this perfect moment.  

Words were not said, but the tin doorbell ringing shattered their perfect moment into pieces. 

“I found you Eva! What on earth are you doing in here?”  It was Minnie.  Eva did not want to turn around.  How dare she barge in here, in this special secret store, and ruin what was to be the most significant part of her life?  How dare she remind them that there was a world outside The Watchmakers? Eva would never forgive her for this.  Before she had a chance to speak, Minnie walked up to The Watchmaker and flung her arms around him. 
“You’ve met my love before, haven’t you Eva?”

Reviews

[zainul]

Wonderful write.
Enjoyed reading.

[eatme]

Excellent. I like this style.
“My fiance,” Eva immediately regretted uttering those words.
(for the second time 90% of a review got deleted by the website)
I love the dialog tag style that does not need a said. I think of it as highly evolved.
I am ignorant of the style you imitate, so I don't know if you hit that mark.

[tayla timpano]

Thankyou! Means alot. Mansfield is a modernist writer, lots of her short stories are available online - she's one of my favourites now, you should have a look at some of them!