Category: Writer

November Writing Month – November 2026 – “Lady Agatha Dies” – Day 5

What are friends for?

…

Well, when they too have the rug pulled out from under them, how much can they do?

Her best friend and fellow founding member of the charity, recently but no longer CEO, due to the new Chairman who had taken over during our main character’s incapacity, had been visiting her friend in hospital and relating the day-to-day events that had turned the running of their organisation into what she calls a circus

I’m going to give her a daughter who is a tenacious reporter and set her on the trail of a conspiracy, that of the so-called benevolent charities and the shady characters that manage to attach themselves to what she will call the charitable gravy train.

She also is the product of that echelon of people who are upper-class nobility, having resented from a young age being called Lady So and So, going to the privileged schools and being treated differently.

She is the rebel against her birthright, her parents, and everything they stand for.

And yet, as she gets older and sees the worth of those connections, those she had so willingly trashed for the sake of getting an editor to take her seriously, it’s going to be a tricky line she will have to walk if she is going to help her mother.

Perhaps her parents were not the monsters she believed they were.

…

Words today, 1785, for a total of 8946

What I learned about writing – Writing stories can be fun

There is more going on in the story front, and just to keep my mind active, or tortured, as the case may be, there are several other stories I’m working on.

In particular, there is the story with the description of what happens after an action-packed start.

Quite a lot. In the third section of the story, after being shot out of the sky, interrogated, flown into northern Nigeria, and then crossing into the Democratic Republic of the Congo to search for two men being held to ransom, our players finally made it home.

Previous attempts to rescue them had failed; this one had to succeed. It’s a matter of dealing with local militias who are tricky to deal with, and then getting out of the country after effecting the rescue.

At times, while writing it, looking at a map and using Google Earth to see what it is like, I felt like I was there looking down the barrel of a gun, and then, in the helter-skelter of getting to the evacuation point, I’m sure my heart rate had lifted considerably, particularly when the battered DC3 was about to be shot at with air to air missiles.

Just imagine this …

A DC-3 versus a very maneuverable helicopter. I was on the edge of my seat.

Next is the surveillance story where nothing is as it seems, which in the espionage business is nothing unusual. Nor is the fact that you cannot trust anyone.

It starts out as a routine surveillance operation until a shop front explodes a moment or two after the target passes it. In the ensuing mayhem, the target reappears, now in fear for his life, and our main character tracks him to an alley where he is murdered before his eyes.

Soon after, the two men whom our main character is working for appear and start asking questions that make our main character think that they had perpetrated a hit on him, and he decides that something is not right.

From there, the deeper he probes, the more interesting the characters and developments. Who was the target? What was he doing that got him killed? What does he have that everyone wants?

I’m about to start on the next phase of this story…

Then there is what I call comic light relief, the writing of stories inspired by photographs I’ve taken. Some, however, have exceeded the 1,000-word limit that I’ve set, only because I want to explore the story more, and some are spread over several stories.

The first book of stories, 1 to 50, is to be published soon. Currently, I’m working on number 148 of the third volume of stories, but number 88 is my favourite so far, simply because it involves a starship.

 

 

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 293

Day 293 – Writing exercise

…

Chloe Vanderhausen looked up and down the dinner table, far larger than was necessary for the five people who were sitting at it, and wondered, not for the first time, why she was sitting there.

That notion she was one of ‘the Vanderhausens’ was wearing a little thin, especially when her mother, Gloria Vandehausen, the woman that adorned more front pages of fashion magazines than any other, had told her not a half before that she had a tradition she had to uphold.

And she remembered the very words she had replied, in anger, that ‘she was not an object for all and sundry to gawk at’, that ‘she was just an ordinary person living in a zoo’.

Her brother Damien, the heir, and next Lord and Master of the Vanderhausen dynasty, had acquired all the airs and graces, and bad habits of his father, given that air of invincibility and untouchability granted by the family’s wealth and power, and had simply told her to shut up, do as she was told, and be ready to fulfil her obligations.

If it was anything like what her mother had to do, she wanted nothing to do with any of it.

The conversation was desultory, her brother was insufferable, her mother was condescending, and her father forbidding.  The only one who seemed to be happy was her stepsister, Amelia, seven years old, and young enough not to care a jot about any of their eccentricities.

Amelia’s life was like living in a fairytale castle.

For Chloe, that fairytale castle was a jail, and her life, well, she prayed a witch would come along and save her, using her magic to turn her into a plain, simple nobody.

Then her father spoke, “This Saturday night, the annual charity ball, everyone is to attend.”  Then he looked at Chloe.  “You will be polite and graceful, and no more of your histrionics.  You are a Vanderhausen, and you will behave like a Vanderhausen.  There is a gentleman I would like you to meet.”

Oh, God, she thought.  Not another matchmaking effort of her mother’s.

“Another old goat who had more money than sense.  I’m not interested in living in a castle, or a manor house. Or having everything you think my heart could desire.”

“You will do it for the benefit of the family, Chloe.”  Damien was only three years older than her and had settled for the girl his mother had selected for him, and they were to be married in a few months’ time.  She felt sorry for the girl, not knowing what she was getting herself into.  She couldn’t see that it was a transaction, not a marriage.

It was not what Chloe wanted for herself.

“You are too young to know what your heart could or could not desire, young lady,” her mother said in that even tone that could cut through six-inch steel.

She never raised her voice and had mastered the art of being heard, even if she whispered.  She might not have had the wherewithal when she first married, but she had acquired the Vanderhausen touch since.

But that’s what everyone saw.  Only Chloe knew that under that hard and sometimes severe exterior there was someone else, that girl she used to be, lurking just beneath the surface.  It was where Chloe believed she had got her rebellious streak from.

“And you honestly believe that marrying for purpose is so much better than marrying for love?”

“No this again,” Daniel muttered.  “You and this ‘I’m going to marry for love’ thing.  That only happens in Hallmark movies.”

Chloe burst out laughing.  “Wow, Dan, you’d better be careful you don’t say that out loud again, or people might think you’re almost human.  Good on Bethany.  She might actually turn you into something recognisable instead of the cardboard cutout you are at the moment.”

He glared at her.  “You would be wise to cease talking, Chloe.  Just do as you’re told.”

It was not a fight she could win, but the semi-smirk hovering on her mother’s face told her she had scored half a brownie point, but not enough to save her from that Saturday night fate worse than death.

Chloe’s rebellious streak had manifested itself into doing what she called secret missions, realising years ago that having all that money her family used as leverage and for making themselves wealthier, could also be used for helping others less fortunate, a project she had been investing in for the last three years, syphoning some of her allowance.

Hoping to make a bigger contribution, she had spent a lot of time trying to convince her father that there was merit in investing in the future of the less fortunate, that it would bring goodwill and respect from a whole new group of people, other than the business and political world in which he moved.

He seemed not to understand why anyone would waste money on people who inevitably wouldn’t appreciate it, and he insisted it was a job the government should do with the inordinately large amount of taxes he paid.

He spoke to her like she didn’t know anything about the world he lived in; they, for that matter, lived in.  When she said he didn’t pay very much tax, that her examination of the corporate accounts was as mystifying as he was to her, it stopped him in his tracks.

She could see he was going to tell her, like he usually did, that she had no idea what she was talking about, and then didn’t.  Sitting in the chair opposite his desk, in an office that was larger than some of the classrooms she had attended, he finally took a long, hard look at the daughter he had largely ignored, and smiled.

“You’re smarter than your brother.”

“Took you a while to realise it.  Not that it matters.  It’s not something I’m going to hold over him or challenge him for the leadership of the company.  I have my own ideas, and I will pursue them, whether you like it or not.”

“Then let’s do some horse-trading.  You humour your mother’s matchmaking attempts, and be reasonable when you decline with sensible arguments, and I will look at your so-called investment in the future of the less fortunate.”

Whilst nothing appeared to have happened in the months that followed, she still took time out to visit one particular charity, where they spent the afternoons creating sandwiches, baking small cakes and assembling quick and easy boxed dinners to hand out to the homeless, of whom there seemed to be an increasing number.  In her two years working with the group, the number of hungry people had almost doubled.

At least the people who worked there, from all walks of life, did not know who she was, because before she arrived at the warehouse, she went to a friend’s place and transformed herself into what she assumed was an ordinary person.  Unkempt hair, little makeup, a size or two too large clothes, and completely dropping her finishing school speech and deportment.

It had been difficult at first, but now she had it down to perfection, and so far, no one had recognised her as being a Vanderhausen, but that had a lot to do with the fact she did not go out of the town with her contemporaries and end up gracing the social pages of the media outlets, always looking for a celebrity in disgrace.  Her brother had not been so lucky.

But sadly, that might change after the upcoming Charity Ball.  It was the first year she was attending as a participant, having reached that age when her mother had decided she was ready to meet the world.  Chloe was not as sure the world would want to meet her.

For the moment, though, everyone there treated her like she was just another one of the team.  And, as it happened, there was one person in particular, a boy named Leo, who was not the average guy who tried to impress her with their charm, good looks, or wit.  Even in her disguise, she knew boys would be boys, but she made it clear she was not looking for a relationship; she just wanted to get on with her studies, work part-time, and wait until after graduation before considering anything serious.  Or even go out, because of the complications it could lead to.

Or possibly could, because Leo didn’t try to impress her; he just had that natural ability to fold you into his orbit and make you feel good.  And with all the expectation and demands her family put on her, just being with him was an amazing feeling.

Until it suddenly made her feel sad, because she was deceiving him, and after he had told her stories about the girls he had dated, the lies and half-truths, and the disappointments.  It was going to get impossible, and she was going to have to leave sooner if he discovered the truth, rather than later.  Until then…well, that was in the future.  Today, it was just another day at the office.

Leo Curruthers had never had it easy.  His father was killed in a freak accident going to work a few years back, and he and his mother had been left with a mountain of debt and no income.  He had to leave university, got two jobs, and from that point barely kept their heads above water.

It was not how he expected his life would go, but sometimes one had to make compromises because they were not the only people impacted by circumstances.  It was why he worked at the charity, to bank credits in the balance of his life, hoping it would cancel out all the bad stuff that had happened.

What did someone call it once, the pay it forward principle.

The trouble was, it didn’t feel like it had happened yet, or would.

Then, one day, a girl arrived, and he knew she was either going to be an angel or trouble.  It turned out to be the latter.  He should have recognised Angelique from the newspapers, the daughter of some rich industrialist who, unbeknownst to her workmates, was there on a dare by her friends that she couldn’t last a month without being unmasked and behaving like some ordinary person, while all the while her friends were documenting it.

And worse still, he had fallen for her, hook, line and sinker.

At the end of the month, her efforts were viral on the internet, humiliating him and just about everyone else, all taken in by some first-class acting.  She hadn’t cared who she hurt or the damage she had done.  Leo was the biggest casualty, and now viewed anyone like her as the enemy, firmly believing that people like him, and the others who worked there, were just pawns in their games.

It was why, when Chloe turned up one evening, looking to help, he almost sent her away.  He didn’t, but he did not believe she was just another person looking to help, because under that scruffy exterior, there was someone else playing a role.  She might not be another Angelique, but he would give her the benefit of the doubt, or until she messed up.  They, he believed, always did in the end.

But after nearly two years, she still turned up every Friday night, the night he assumed was party night for those who could afford it.  If Chloe had been that person like Angelique, she would have picked another night. 

And like clockwork, she arrived precisely at two in the afternoon, donned her apron and took her place on the line, ready.  Sometimes he worked next to her, but generally she kept to herself, speaking only when spoken to, did the work efficiently and quickly, having acquired the skills needed over the first month or two.  Usually those who assembled the boxes rarely stayed to distribute them, but she was one of the few who did.  It was a long shift, sometimes ending at three in the morning.

It was surprising that after all this time, all he knew about her was that she sometimes waited tables for unspecified cafes, that she studied art appreciation at a university, and lived in an attic room with her father and mother-in-law, in a quint house in Queens.  Where in Queens she wouldn’t say, and he had dabbled with the thought of following her to see if any of it was true, but in the end decided he was not going to get involved.  At the end of her shift, an Uber picked her up.  The same Uber.

And after two years, it surprised him how little he did know about her, or anyone who worked there, past and present.  She just did not talk about herself.  Perhaps that was a red flag. But the fact she was there, she turned up, and she did the work was a plus, and the organisation was glad of her help.  It would just be nice to know why.

Today, a little later than usual, he saw her in the line and went to join her.

She smiled when he squeezed in between her and Robert, a recent addition, and an admirer, one she was not trying to cultivate, but her charisma was overpowering sometimes. \

Leo realised, in that moment, the only reason he was standing there was jealousy.  He had seen Robert, who had asked about her back when he started, making a play and failing, but still fuelled odd feelings in him.  He had reminded himself about Angelique and how similar Chloe was to her, but it didn’t make a difference.

What probably didn’t help was that she liked him, though she had not said as much to him, but to a colleague, and in confidence.  He had wondered at the time whether she was spoken for but simply didn’t want to say so.

“You are late,” she said.  “More pressing things to do?”  It was in that banter tone they sometimes used, slipping into the easy conversation between long-time colleagues.

“Life.  It has a habit of getting in the way.”  He glanced sideways and saw the fractional change in her expression and realised he had said it more harshly than he had intended.

Everybody had problems, so what made his more important than anyone else.  “Sorry.  Bad morning.  Not your fault.”

“Sometimes it is hard not to let it impinge on your day.  You cannot always be in a good mood.  Even I can get grumpy.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“You only see me on Friday.  You don’t want to see me on a Saturday.”

He bit his tongue, almost blurting out ‘why’ and realising just in time that it was none of his business, and that perhaps she was only joking.

He let out a gentle sigh.  “Remind me then not to cross your path on a Saturday.”

She looked sideways at him, trying to read the semi-blank expression he was trying to pass as nonchalance.  She knew he wanted to know more, but that was not possible.  Worse still, she wanted to know more about him and had toyed with the idea of asking him to have coffee one day, other than Friday.  Also impossible.

But then, it wasn’t quite true she didn’t know anything about him.  She did, but it was a one-way street.  He told her about his father, his mother, the debt, quitting university, and surviving.  Her story, if she told the truth, would probably disgust him: a girl who had everything handed to her on a silver platter, and now working in the warehouse to what he would undoubtedly believe was a silly rich girl trying to assuage her guilt?

Put like that, it would disgust her if their roles were reversed.

It was as far from the truth as possible, but she could never explain that.  He was there because he knew what it was like to have nothing; she was there because she wanted to do something that didn’t need her parents’ approval.  She doubted he would understand if she told him how much she contributed in funding to the charity.  In fact, she had insisted that the CEO could not tell anyone.

The last of the meals had been handed out, the night was done, and it was time to go home.

Leo looked at his watch, and it was late.  Later than usual.  Back at the warehouse, the last of the volunteers had left, and Chloe was waiting outside the door for her Uber.  It was late, and she was getting restless.

He wasn’t going to leave before her ride arrived, so he finished up and came out.

“Car late?”

“Unusual.  I have a standing request, and he’s always here.  Something must have happened.”

“I can take you anywhere you want to go?”  After two years, and the fact that they knew each other fairly well, he could make such an offer.

It surprised him to see her look of apprehension.  The late ride, or his offer?

“I don’t mean to sound forward, just that I can see the wait is causing you concern.”

Then, in a moment he could not explain why, he got the feeling she didn’t trust him.

“I mean, I know you don’t really know me, but I would like to think that I am trustworthy, given how much the boss can trust me with the closing up of the warehouse.”

Then he felt annoyed that he was trying to justify himself.  In the cold, dark street, lit by a single overhead light, their breath creating little clouds, he looked at her, really looked at her, and saw someone he didn’t recognise.   That bitter memory of Angelique flooded back.

Their eyes met, and he couldn’t help but feel, in that moment, of thinking of money, that same feeling he had after he had discovered Angelique’s perfidy.

“Who are you?”  It was out before he could stop it.

The headlights of her car suddenly illuminated the two, with their defined shadows etched on the wall of the warehouse, getting larger as the car got closer.

“Just an ordinary girl, Leo.  Nothing more, nothing less.  Just a girl who wanted to help those less fortunate.”

The car stopped, and the driver got out, going around to the rear and opening the door.

“Are you not coming next week?”

“No.  I can’t.  My circumstances have changed and make it impossible.  It was nice to meet you, Leo.  I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Wait.  Will I see you again?”

“Probably.  But not in a way you could imagine.”  She smiled wanly.  “Goodbye, Leo.”

She got in, the driver closed the door, and seconds later she was gone.

…

©  Charles Heath  2026

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Bratislava

Beyond the Castle: 5 Offbeat Adventures in Bratislava You Won’t Find on Every Postcard

Bratislava. The name itself conjures images of a charming Old Town, the majestic castle perched above the Danube, and perhaps a quirky statue or two. And while these icons are undeniably wonderful, there’s a whole other side to Slovakia’s capital waiting to be discovered – a side that reveals the city’s true character, its rich history, and its vibrant local life, far from the well-trodden tourist paths.

If you’re ready to peel back the layers and experience Bratislava like a true explorer, here are five “road less travelled” adventures that promise unique memories and a deeper connection to this captivating city.

1. Ascend to Slavin Memorial: History, Views, and Serenity

While Bratislava Castle offers fantastic views, for a truly poignant and panoramic experience, head to Slavin Memorial. This colossal war memorial and cemetery honours the Soviet soldiers who fell liberating Bratislava during World War II. It’s a powerful, solemn place, but also one offering some of the most breathtaking, unobstructed views of the city, the Danube, and even the distant Austrian Alps.

Why it’s less travelled: Many tourists stick to the immediate Old Town. Slavin requires a short, scenic bus ride or a determined uphill walk, making it feel like a discovered secret.

What to expect: A grand staircase leading to an obelisk crowned with a triumphant soldier statue. Spend time walking among the graves, decorated with red stars, and then simply soak in the epic vista. It’s a place for reflection and stunning photography, especially at sunset.

How to get there: Take a local bus (such as number 203 or 207) from Hodžovo námestie (Presidential Palace) or take a taxi/ride-sharing service.

2. Explore the Small Carpathian Wine Route: A Taste of Local Tradition

Did you know Bratislava is the gateway to a historic wine region? Just a short drive or train ride from the city lies the Small Carpathian Wine Route (Malokarpatská Vínna Cesta), a picturesque trail dotted with charming winemaking villages like Pezinok and Modra. This region has been producing wine for centuries, and it’s a delightful escape from urban life.

Why it’s less travelled: While some tour operators offer trips, many independent travellers miss this authentic experience, opting for day trips to neighbouring capitals instead.

What to expect: Hop on a local train to Pezinok or Modra, and wander through their quaint streets. Look for traditional wine cellars (“vínne pivnice”) offering tastings of local varietals like Grüner Veltliner, Frankovka Modrá (Blaufränkisch), and Müller-Thurgau. Many wineries offer delicious regional snacks to accompany your tasting. If visiting in autumn, look out for the “burčiak,” a partially fermented young wine – a local delicacy!

How to get there: Take a regional train from Bratislava Hlavná Stanica (Main Station) to Pezinok or Modra. The journey takes around 20-30 minutes.

3. Discover the Danubiana Meulensteen Art Museum: Art on the Water

For a dose of contemporary art in an utterly unique setting, make your way to the Danubiana Meulensteen Art Museum. Located on a peninsula in the Danube River, about 15km south of Bratislava, this modern art gallery is a masterpiece in itself, offering stunning architecture, thought-provoking exhibitions, and incredible river views.

Why it’s less travelled: Its location outside the immediate city centre means it’s often overlooked by visitors with limited time.

What to expect: A captivating journey through modern and contemporary art, primarily by Slovak and international artists. The museum’s design allows natural light to flood the spaces, and the outdoor sculpture park, with its whimsical pieces set against the river backdrop, is a joy to explore. You can even enjoy a coffee with a view from their café.

How to get there: The most scenic (and recommended) way is by a special tourist boat that departs from Fajnorovo nábrežie near the Old Town (check seasonal schedules). Alternatively, take a local bus (number 90) from Nový Most (UFO Bridge) or a taxi/ride-sharing service.

4. Hike to Kamzík TV Tower & Koliba: Nature, Adventure, and Views

Escape the city hustle and immerse yourself in nature by heading up to the forested hills of Koliba, home to the iconic Kamzík TV Tower. This area is a beloved recreational spot for locals, offering hiking trails, a bobsled track, and, of course, the observation deck of the TV tower for breathtaking panoramic views.

Why it’s less travelled: Many tourists don’t realise such an extensive green space, complete with a TV tower offering great views, is so accessible from the city.

What to expect: Take the historic Kamzík cable car (Železná studnička – Koliba) up the hill, or hike one of the many well-marked trails. Once at the top, you can ascend the TV tower for 360-degree vistas (there’s also a rotating restaurant at the top if you’re feeling fancy!). In winter, it’s a popular spot for sledding, and in warmer months, you’ll find families picnicking and enjoying the fresh air.

How to get there: Take tram number 3 or 9 to the “Železná studnička” stop, then walk or take the cable car up to Koliba. Alternatively, bus number 203 or 207 will get you closer to the TV Tower area.

5. Dive into Local Life at Miletičova Tržnica (Market): A Sensory Feast

For an authentic slice of everyday Bratislava life, head to Miletičova Tržnica, the city’s largest outdoor and indoor market. This isn’t a quaint artisan market; it’s a bustling, vibrant hub where locals come to buy fresh produce, clothes, household goods, and indulge in hearty Slovak street food.

Why it’s less travelled: It’s located outside the immediate city centre in a residential area, away from the typical tourist routes.

What to expect: A kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, and smells! Browse stalls overflowing with seasonal fruits, vegetables, cheeses, and smoked meats. Discover quirky fashion, electronics, and souvenirs. But the real highlight is the food: grab a langoš (fried dough with garlic, cheese, and sour cream), a pecené kura (roasted chicken), or a classic halušky (potato dumplings) from one of the many unassuming food stands. It’s an affordable and delicious way to sample local flavours.

How to get there: Take a tram (e.g., number 8 or 9) or bus (e.g., number 50 or 53) to the “Miletičova” stop.

Bratislava is a city that rewards those who dare to venture beyond the obvious. These five experiences offer a taste of its diverse history, natural beauty, artistic spirit, and authentic local charm. So, next time you find yourself in Slovakia’s captivating capital, step off the well-worn path and create your own unique Bratislava story. You won’t regret it!

In a word: Stern

It’s what I’d always expected of my teachers, having to stand up the front of the classroom and look like they were in control.

These days, not so much, but back in my day, teachers, and particularly the men, were to be feared, and stern expressions were the features of an effective teacher.

So, in this context, it means a hardness or severity of manner.

Whilst in a sense that was frightening to us kids, another form of the word also can be used to express a forbidding or gloomy appearance.

Grandfathers also have that stern look, but it’s more forbidding, more authoritarian, more severe, more austere, well, you get the picture.  A six-year-old would be trembling in his or her boots.

There again, in facing up to either possibility above, you could stand firm with a stern resolve not to buckle under the pressure.

Of course, not a good idea if you’re facing a tank (with a stern-looking tank master)

Then…

If you’re standing at the end of the boat, not the front, but the rear, you would be standing at the stern of the boat, or ship.

Oddly, when issuing instructions to go in reverse, not something you would say if you were on the bridge, you would instead say, or possibly yell, full speed astern, because you’re about to hit an iceberg.

Or some idiot in a jet ski who likes to think he or she can beat the bullet (or 65,000 tonnes of a ship that has very little mobility).

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Prague

Prague Beyond the Crowds: Five Distinctive Gems for a Serene Escape

Prague. The very name conjures images of fairytale castles, winding cobblestone streets, and the timeless beauty of a city steeped in history. It’s truly magical – but that magic often comes with a hefty dose of crowds, especially in peak season.

If you’re dreaming of experiencing Prague’s unique charm without the elbow-to-elbow shuffling, you’re in luck! The Golden City holds countless hidden treasures that are just as distinctive, beautiful, and rich in history as their more famous counterparts, yet remain wonderfully uncrowded.

As a seasoned traveller and admirer of Prague, I’ve curated a list of five visitor attractions that offer a distinctive experience, breathtaking beauty, and, most importantly, a peaceful retreat from the madding crowds.

1. Vyšehrad: Prague’s Ancient Citadel with Panoramic Views

Often overshadowed by Prague Castle, Vyšehrad is older, equally significant, and immensely more tranquil. Perched on a dramatic rock overlooking the Vltava River, this historic fort and castle complex offers a captivating journey through Czech history, mythology, and art.

Why it’s distinctive:

  • Historical Significance: Believed to be the original seat of the Czech princes before Prague Castle.
  • St. Peter and Paul Basilica: A stunning neo-Gothic church with intricate frescoes and a peaceful atmosphere.
  • Slavín Cemetery: The final resting place of many famous Czech artists, writers, and composers (Dvořák, Smetana, and Mucha), featuring elaborate and beautiful tombstones.
  • Panoramic Views: Breathtaking vistas of the Vltava River, Prague Castle, and the entire city.
  • Rotunda of St. Martin: Prague’s oldest surviving Romanesque rotunda.

Why it’s not crowded: It’s slightly outside the immediate city centre, requiring a short tram or metro ride, which deters many casual tourists. Those who make the effort are rewarded with space, serenity, and discovery.

2. Strahov Monastery Library: A Baroque Masterpiece of Knowledge

Tucked away near Prague Castle, the Strahov Monastery Library is a truly awe-inspiring sight that feels like stepping into another world. While part of a larger monastery that sees some visitors, the library itself often requires pre-booked tours or specific entry, which naturally limits crowd size, allowing for a more intimate viewing experience.

Why it’s distinctive:

  • Philosophical Hall & Theological Hall: Two magnificent Baroque halls housing over 200,000 volumes.
  • Stunning Frescoes: Intricate ceiling frescoes depicting the history of mankind and the pursuit of knowledge.
  • Historical Globes & Curiosities: A collection of ancient globes, natural history specimens, and other fascinating artifacts.
  • Architectural Grandeur: The sheer scale and ornamentation of the halls are breathtaking.

Why it’s not crowded: Its location, slightly up a hill from Prague Castle (though easily walkable), and its specific entry requirements mean it’s not a place for a quick glance. Those who visit are genuinely interested in its unique beauty and history.

3. Wallenstein Garden (Valdštejnská Zahrada): Baroque Splendor in Malá Strana

Just a stone’s throw from the bustling Malá Strana (Lesser Town) square, the Wallenstein Garden is a Baroque masterpiece that often gets overlooked. Belonging to the Wallenstein Palace (home to the Czech Senate), this meticulously maintained garden is a tranquil oasis.

Why it’s distinctive:

  • Manicured Lawns & Hedges: Perfect geometric designs characteristic of Baroque gardens.
  • Exquisite Statues: Bronze sculptures by Adriaen de Vries, depicting mythological figures.
  • The Salla Terrena: A grand triple arch loggia adorned with frescoes, hosting concerts in summer.
  • Artificial Grotto (Grotta): A fantastical, stalactite-lined cave structure that’s utterly unique.
  • Peacocks: Elegant white peacocks roam freely, adding to the garden’s enchanting atmosphere.

Why it’s not crowded: It’s a bit hidden from the main tourist routes, and while many walk past the palace, fewer venture into the garden’s entrance. It’s often free to enter, making it an incredible value for such beauty. (Check seasonal opening times, as it’s typically closed in winter).

4. Vrtba Garden (Vrtbovská Zahrada): A Hidden Terraced Gem

Considered one of Prague’s most beautiful Baroque gardens, the Vrtba Garden is a true hidden gem, tucked away behind a modest archway in Malá Strana. This terraced garden ascends steeply, offering increasingly spectacular views as you climb.

Why it’s distinctive:

  • Intimate Baroque Design: Smaller and more secluded than Wallenstein, with a romantic, secret garden feel.
  • Terraced Levels: Each level reveals new perspectives, fountains, statues, and intricate floral arrangements.
  • Stunning Views: From the top terrace, you get a unique, close-up vista of Prague Castle, St. Nicholas Church, and the red rooftops of Malá Strana.
  • Rich Sculpture & Frescoes: Adorned with works by Matthias Braun and frescoes by Reiner.

Why it’s not crowded: Its rather unassuming entrance on Karmelitská Street means it’s easily missed. There’s a small entrance fee, which further deters casual visitors, ensuring a peaceful and exclusive experience for those who seek it out. (Another seasonal garden, typically closed in winter).

5. Letná Park (Letenské Sady): Iconic Views and Local Vibe

While popular with locals, Letná Park rarely sees the kind of tourist throngs that flood the Charles Bridge. This expansive park stretches along a plateau on the left bank of the Vltava River, offering some of the most iconic panoramic views of Prague.

Why it’s distinctive:

  • The Metronome: Standing on the former site of a gigantic Stalin monument, Prague’s giant metronome is a symbol of passing time and offers a fantastic photo op.
  • Beer Garden: A beloved spot, particularly in warmer months, where you can enjoy a Czech beer with an unparalleled backdrop of the city’s bridges and Old Town.
  • Skate Park & Open Spaces: Popular with skateboarders and locals enjoying a stroll, picnic, or simply relaxing.
  • Breathtaking Vistas: Arguably the best spot to capture the iconic shot of all of Prague’s bridges spanning the Vltava.

Why it’s not crowded: It’s a park designed for space and relaxation, so even with many people, it rarely feels cramped. It requires a bit of an uphill walk (or a short tram ride) from the river, which means it’s a destination rather than a stop on a crowded route.

Embark on a Prague adventure that’s truly yours. By venturing slightly off the most beaten path, you’ll discover a Prague that’s just as magnificent, but far more serene. You’ll not only see distinctive features but also gain a deeper connection to the city’s enduring charm, away from the hustle and bustle.

Have you discovered any other uncrowded Prague gems? Share your favourites in the comments below!

“The Things we do for Love”, the story behind the story

This story has been ongoing since I was seventeen, and just to let you know, I’m 72 this year.

Yes, it’s taken a long time to get it done.

Why, you might ask.

Well, I never gave it much interest because I started writing it after a small incident when I was 17, and working as a book packer for a book distributor in Melbourne

At the end of my first year, at Christmas, the employer had a Christmas party, and that year, it was at a venue in St Kilda.

I wasn’t going to go because at that age, I was an ordinary boy who was very introverted and basically scared of his own shadow and terrified by girls.

Back then, I would cross the street to avoid them

Also, other members of the staff in the shipping department were rough and ready types who were not backwards in telling me what happened, and being naive, perhaps they knew I’d be either shocked or intrigued.

I was both adamant I wasn’t coming and then got roped in on a dare.

Damn!

So, back then, in the early 70s, people looked the other way when it came to drinking, and of course, Dutch courage always takes away the concerns, especially when normally you wouldn’t do half the stuff you wouldn’t in a million years

I made it to the end, not as drunk and stupid as I thought I might be, and St Kilda being a salacious place if you knew where to look, my new friends decided to give me a surprise.

It didn’t take long to realise these men were ‘men about town’ as they kept saying, and we went on an odyssey.  Yes, those backstreet brothels where one could, I was told, have anything they could imagine.

Let me tell you, large quantities of alcohol and imagination were a very bad mix.

So, the odyssey in ‘The things we do’ was based on that, and then the encounter with Diana. Well, let’s just say I learned a great deal about girls that night.

Firstly, not all girls are nasty and spiteful, which seemed to be the case whenever I met one. There was a way to approach, greet, talk to, and behave.

It was also true that I could have had anything I wanted, but I decided what was in my imagination could stay there.  She was amused that all I wanted was to talk, but it was my money, and I could spend it how I liked.

And like any 17-year-old naive fool, I fell in love with her and had all these foolish notions.  Months later, I went back, but she had moved on, to where no one was saying or knew.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken and had to get over that first loss, which, like any 17-year-old, was like the end of the world.

But it was the best hour I’d ever spent in my life and would remain so until I met the woman I have been married to for the last 48 years.

As Henry, he was in part based on a rebel, the son of rich parents who despised them and their wealth, and he used to regale anyone who would listen about how they had messed up his life

If only I’d come from such a background!

And yes, I was only a run away from climbing up the stairs to get on board a ship, acting as a purser.

I worked for a shipping company and they gave their junior staff members an opportunity to spend a year at sea working as a purser on a cargo ship that sailed between Melbourne, Sydney and Hobart in Australia.

One of the other junior staff members’ turn came, and I would visit him on board when he would tell me stories about life on board, the officers, the crew, and other events. These stories, which sounded incredible to someone so impressionable, were a delight to hear.

Alas, by that time, I had tired of office work and moved on to be a tradesman at the place where my father worked.

It proved to be the right move, as that is where I met my wife.  Diana had been right; love would find me when I least expected it.

…

lovecoverfinal1

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 293

Day 293 – Writing exercise

…

Chloe Vanderhausen looked up and down the dinner table, far larger than was necessary for the five people who were sitting at it, and wondered, not for the first time, why she was sitting there.

That notion she was one of ‘the Vanderhausens’ was wearing a little thin, especially when her mother, Gloria Vandehausen, the woman that adorned more front pages of fashion magazines than any other, had told her not a half before that she had a tradition she had to uphold.

And she remembered the very words she had replied, in anger, that ‘she was not an object for all and sundry to gawk at’, that ‘she was just an ordinary person living in a zoo’.

Her brother Damien, the heir, and next Lord and Master of the Vanderhausen dynasty, had acquired all the airs and graces, and bad habits of his father, given that air of invincibility and untouchability granted by the family’s wealth and power, and had simply told her to shut up, do as she was told, and be ready to fulfil her obligations.

If it was anything like what her mother had to do, she wanted nothing to do with any of it.

The conversation was desultory, her brother was insufferable, her mother was condescending, and her father forbidding.  The only one who seemed to be happy was her stepsister, Amelia, seven years old, and young enough not to care a jot about any of their eccentricities.

Amelia’s life was like living in a fairytale castle.

For Chloe, that fairytale castle was a jail, and her life, well, she prayed a witch would come along and save her, using her magic to turn her into a plain, simple nobody.

Then her father spoke, “This Saturday night, the annual charity ball, everyone is to attend.”  Then he looked at Chloe.  “You will be polite and graceful, and no more of your histrionics.  You are a Vanderhausen, and you will behave like a Vanderhausen.  There is a gentleman I would like you to meet.”

Oh, God, she thought.  Not another matchmaking effort of her mother’s.

“Another old goat who had more money than sense.  I’m not interested in living in a castle, or a manor house. Or having everything you think my heart could desire.”

“You will do it for the benefit of the family, Chloe.”  Damien was only three years older than her and had settled for the girl his mother had selected for him, and they were to be married in a few months’ time.  She felt sorry for the girl, not knowing what she was getting herself into.  She couldn’t see that it was a transaction, not a marriage.

It was not what Chloe wanted for herself.

“You are too young to know what your heart could or could not desire, young lady,” her mother said in that even tone that could cut through six-inch steel.

She never raised her voice and had mastered the art of being heard, even if she whispered.  She might not have had the wherewithal when she first married, but she had acquired the Vanderhausen touch since.

But that’s what everyone saw.  Only Chloe knew that under that hard and sometimes severe exterior there was someone else, that girl she used to be, lurking just beneath the surface.  It was where Chloe believed she had got her rebellious streak from.

“And you honestly believe that marrying for purpose is so much better than marrying for love?”

“No this again,” Daniel muttered.  “You and this ‘I’m going to marry for love’ thing.  That only happens in Hallmark movies.”

Chloe burst out laughing.  “Wow, Dan, you’d better be careful you don’t say that out loud again, or people might think you’re almost human.  Good on Bethany.  She might actually turn you into something recognisable instead of the cardboard cutout you are at the moment.”

He glared at her.  “You would be wise to cease talking, Chloe.  Just do as you’re told.”

It was not a fight she could win, but the semi-smirk hovering on her mother’s face told her she had scored half a brownie point, but not enough to save her from that Saturday night fate worse than death.

Chloe’s rebellious streak had manifested itself into doing what she called secret missions, realising years ago that having all that money her family used as leverage and for making themselves wealthier, could also be used for helping others less fortunate, a project she had been investing in for the last three years, syphoning some of her allowance.

Hoping to make a bigger contribution, she had spent a lot of time trying to convince her father that there was merit in investing in the future of the less fortunate, that it would bring goodwill and respect from a whole new group of people, other than the business and political world in which he moved.

He seemed not to understand why anyone would waste money on people who inevitably wouldn’t appreciate it, and he insisted it was a job the government should do with the inordinately large amount of taxes he paid.

He spoke to her like she didn’t know anything about the world he lived in; they, for that matter, lived in.  When she said he didn’t pay very much tax, that her examination of the corporate accounts was as mystifying as he was to her, it stopped him in his tracks.

She could see he was going to tell her, like he usually did, that she had no idea what she was talking about, and then didn’t.  Sitting in the chair opposite his desk, in an office that was larger than some of the classrooms she had attended, he finally took a long, hard look at the daughter he had largely ignored, and smiled.

“You’re smarter than your brother.”

“Took you a while to realise it.  Not that it matters.  It’s not something I’m going to hold over him or challenge him for the leadership of the company.  I have my own ideas, and I will pursue them, whether you like it or not.”

“Then let’s do some horse-trading.  You humour your mother’s matchmaking attempts, and be reasonable when you decline with sensible arguments, and I will look at your so-called investment in the future of the less fortunate.”

Whilst nothing appeared to have happened in the months that followed, she still took time out to visit one particular charity, where they spent the afternoons creating sandwiches, baking small cakes and assembling quick and easy boxed dinners to hand out to the homeless, of whom there seemed to be an increasing number.  In her two years working with the group, the number of hungry people had almost doubled.

At least the people who worked there, from all walks of life, did not know who she was, because before she arrived at the warehouse, she went to a friend’s place and transformed herself into what she assumed was an ordinary person.  Unkempt hair, little makeup, a size or two too large clothes, and completely dropping her finishing school speech and deportment.

It had been difficult at first, but now she had it down to perfection, and so far, no one had recognised her as being a Vanderhausen, but that had a lot to do with the fact she did not go out of the town with her contemporaries and end up gracing the social pages of the media outlets, always looking for a celebrity in disgrace.  Her brother had not been so lucky.

But sadly, that might change after the upcoming Charity Ball.  It was the first year she was attending as a participant, having reached that age when her mother had decided she was ready to meet the world.  Chloe was not as sure the world would want to meet her.

For the moment, though, everyone there treated her like she was just another one of the team.  And, as it happened, there was one person in particular, a boy named Leo, who was not the average guy who tried to impress her with their charm, good looks, or wit.  Even in her disguise, she knew boys would be boys, but she made it clear she was not looking for a relationship; she just wanted to get on with her studies, work part-time, and wait until after graduation before considering anything serious.  Or even go out, because of the complications it could lead to.

Or possibly could, because Leo didn’t try to impress her; he just had that natural ability to fold you into his orbit and make you feel good.  And with all the expectation and demands her family put on her, just being with him was an amazing feeling.

Until it suddenly made her feel sad, because she was deceiving him, and after he had told her stories about the girls he had dated, the lies and half-truths, and the disappointments.  It was going to get impossible, and she was going to have to leave sooner if he discovered the truth, rather than later.  Until then…well, that was in the future.  Today, it was just another day at the office.

Leo Curruthers had never had it easy.  His father was killed in a freak accident going to work a few years back, and he and his mother had been left with a mountain of debt and no income.  He had to leave university, got two jobs, and from that point barely kept their heads above water.

It was not how he expected his life would go, but sometimes one had to make compromises because they were not the only people impacted by circumstances.  It was why he worked at the charity, to bank credits in the balance of his life, hoping it would cancel out all the bad stuff that had happened.

What did someone call it once, the pay it forward principle.

The trouble was, it didn’t feel like it had happened yet, or would.

Then, one day, a girl arrived, and he knew she was either going to be an angel or trouble.  It turned out to be the latter.  He should have recognised Angelique from the newspapers, the daughter of some rich industrialist who, unbeknownst to her workmates, was there on a dare by her friends that she couldn’t last a month without being unmasked and behaving like some ordinary person, while all the while her friends were documenting it.

And worse still, he had fallen for her, hook, line and sinker.

At the end of the month, her efforts were viral on the internet, humiliating him and just about everyone else, all taken in by some first-class acting.  She hadn’t cared who she hurt or the damage she had done.  Leo was the biggest casualty, and now viewed anyone like her as the enemy, firmly believing that people like him, and the others who worked there, were just pawns in their games.

It was why, when Chloe turned up one evening, looking to help, he almost sent her away.  He didn’t, but he did not believe she was just another person looking to help, because under that scruffy exterior, there was someone else playing a role.  She might not be another Angelique, but he would give her the benefit of the doubt, or until she messed up.  They, he believed, always did in the end.

But after nearly two years, she still turned up every Friday night, the night he assumed was party night for those who could afford it.  If Chloe had been that person like Angelique, she would have picked another night. 

And like clockwork, she arrived precisely at two in the afternoon, donned her apron and took her place on the line, ready.  Sometimes he worked next to her, but generally she kept to herself, speaking only when spoken to, did the work efficiently and quickly, having acquired the skills needed over the first month or two.  Usually those who assembled the boxes rarely stayed to distribute them, but she was one of the few who did.  It was a long shift, sometimes ending at three in the morning.

It was surprising that after all this time, all he knew about her was that she sometimes waited tables for unspecified cafes, that she studied art appreciation at a university, and lived in an attic room with her father and mother-in-law, in a quint house in Queens.  Where in Queens she wouldn’t say, and he had dabbled with the thought of following her to see if any of it was true, but in the end decided he was not going to get involved.  At the end of her shift, an Uber picked her up.  The same Uber.

And after two years, it surprised him how little he did know about her, or anyone who worked there, past and present.  She just did not talk about herself.  Perhaps that was a red flag. But the fact she was there, she turned up, and she did the work was a plus, and the organisation was glad of her help.  It would just be nice to know why.

Today, a little later than usual, he saw her in the line and went to join her.

She smiled when he squeezed in between her and Robert, a recent addition, and an admirer, one she was not trying to cultivate, but her charisma was overpowering sometimes. \

Leo realised, in that moment, the only reason he was standing there was jealousy.  He had seen Robert, who had asked about her back when he started, making a play and failing, but still fuelled odd feelings in him.  He had reminded himself about Angelique and how similar Chloe was to her, but it didn’t make a difference.

What probably didn’t help was that she liked him, though she had not said as much to him, but to a colleague, and in confidence.  He had wondered at the time whether she was spoken for but simply didn’t want to say so.

“You are late,” she said.  “More pressing things to do?”  It was in that banter tone they sometimes used, slipping into the easy conversation between long-time colleagues.

“Life.  It has a habit of getting in the way.”  He glanced sideways and saw the fractional change in her expression and realised he had said it more harshly than he had intended.

Everybody had problems, so what made his more important than anyone else.  “Sorry.  Bad morning.  Not your fault.”

“Sometimes it is hard not to let it impinge on your day.  You cannot always be in a good mood.  Even I can get grumpy.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“You only see me on Friday.  You don’t want to see me on a Saturday.”

He bit his tongue, almost blurting out ‘why’ and realising just in time that it was none of his business, and that perhaps she was only joking.

He let out a gentle sigh.  “Remind me then not to cross your path on a Saturday.”

She looked sideways at him, trying to read the semi-blank expression he was trying to pass as nonchalance.  She knew he wanted to know more, but that was not possible.  Worse still, she wanted to know more about him and had toyed with the idea of asking him to have coffee one day, other than Friday.  Also impossible.

But then, it wasn’t quite true she didn’t know anything about him.  She did, but it was a one-way street.  He told her about his father, his mother, the debt, quitting university, and surviving.  Her story, if she told the truth, would probably disgust him: a girl who had everything handed to her on a silver platter, and now working in the warehouse to what he would undoubtedly believe was a silly rich girl trying to assuage her guilt?

Put like that, it would disgust her if their roles were reversed.

It was as far from the truth as possible, but she could never explain that.  He was there because he knew what it was like to have nothing; she was there because she wanted to do something that didn’t need her parents’ approval.  She doubted he would understand if she told him how much she contributed in funding to the charity.  In fact, she had insisted that the CEO could not tell anyone.

The last of the meals had been handed out, the night was done, and it was time to go home.

Leo looked at his watch, and it was late.  Later than usual.  Back at the warehouse, the last of the volunteers had left, and Chloe was waiting outside the door for her Uber.  It was late, and she was getting restless.

He wasn’t going to leave before her ride arrived, so he finished up and came out.

“Car late?”

“Unusual.  I have a standing request, and he’s always here.  Something must have happened.”

“I can take you anywhere you want to go?”  After two years, and the fact that they knew each other fairly well, he could make such an offer.

It surprised him to see her look of apprehension.  The late ride, or his offer?

“I don’t mean to sound forward, just that I can see the wait is causing you concern.”

Then, in a moment he could not explain why, he got the feeling she didn’t trust him.

“I mean, I know you don’t really know me, but I would like to think that I am trustworthy, given how much the boss can trust me with the closing up of the warehouse.”

Then he felt annoyed that he was trying to justify himself.  In the cold, dark street, lit by a single overhead light, their breath creating little clouds, he looked at her, really looked at her, and saw someone he didn’t recognise.   That bitter memory of Angelique flooded back.

Their eyes met, and he couldn’t help but feel, in that moment, of thinking of money, that same feeling he had after he had discovered Angelique’s perfidy.

“Who are you?”  It was out before he could stop it.

The headlights of her car suddenly illuminated the two, with their defined shadows etched on the wall of the warehouse, getting larger as the car got closer.

“Just an ordinary girl, Leo.  Nothing more, nothing less.  Just a girl who wanted to help those less fortunate.”

The car stopped, and the driver got out, going around to the rear and opening the door.

“Are you not coming next week?”

“No.  I can’t.  My circumstances have changed and make it impossible.  It was nice to meet you, Leo.  I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Wait.  Will I see you again?”

“Probably.  But not in a way you could imagine.”  She smiled wanly.  “Goodbye, Leo.”

She got in, the driver closed the door, and seconds later she was gone.

…

©  Charles Heath  2026

An excerpt from “Sunday in New York”

Now available on Amazon at:  https://amzn.to/2H7ALs8

…

Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.

We met the Blaines at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaines frequently visited and had recommended.

Of course, during the taxi ride there, Alison reminded me that with my new job, we would be able to go to many more places like Williams’.  It was, at worst, more emotional blackmail, because as far as Alison was concerned, we were well on our way to posh restaurants, the Trump Tower Apartments, and the trappings of the ‘executive set’.

It would be a miracle if I didn’t strangle Elaine before the night was over.  It was she who had filled Alison’s head with all this stuff and nonsense.

Aside from the half-frown, half-smile, Alison was looking stunning.  It had been months since she had last dressed up, and she was especially wearing the dress I’d bought her for our 5th anniversary that cost a month’s salary.  On her, it was worth it, and I would have paid more if I had to.  She had adored it and me, for a week or so after.

For tonight, I think I was close to getting back on that pedestal.

She had the looks and figure to draw attention, the sort movie stars get on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds of silence, and many more gasps.

I even had a sudden loss of breath earlier in the evening when she came out of the dressing room.  Once more, I was reminded of how lucky I was that she had agreed to marry me.  Amid all those self-doubts, I couldn’t believe she had loved me when there were so many others out there who were more appealing.

Elaine was out of her seat and came over just as the Head Waiter hovered into sight.  She personally escorted Alison to the table, allowing me to follow like the Queen’s consort, while she and Alison basked in the admiring glances of the other patrons.

More than once, I heard the muted question, “Who is she?”

Jimmy stood, we shook hands, and then we sat together.  It was not the usual boy, girl, boy, girl seating arrangement.  Jimmy and I on one side and Elaine and Alison on the other.

The battle lines were drawn.

Jimmy was looking fashionable, with a permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and a designer dinner suit that looked like he’d slept in it.  Alison insisted I wear a tuxedo, and I looked like the proverbial penguin or just a thinner version of Alfred Hitchcock.

The bow tie had been slightly crooked, but just before we stepped out, she had straightened it.  And took the moment to look deeply into my soul.  It was one of those moments when words were not necessary.

Then it was gone.

I relived it briefly as I sat and she looked at me.  A penetrating look that told me to ‘behave’.

When we were settled, Elaine said, in that breathless, enthusiastic manner of hers when she was excited, “So, Harry, you are finally moving up.”  It was not a question, but a statement.

I was not sure what she meant by ‘finally’, but I accepted it with good grace.  Sometimes, Elaine was prone to using figures of speech I didn’t understand.  I guessed she was talking about the new job.  “It was supposed to be a secret.”

She smiled widely.  “There are no secrets between Al and me, are there, Al?”

I looked at ‘Al’ and saw a brief look of consternation.

I was not sure Alison liked the idea of being called Al.  I tried it once and was admonished.  But it was interesting that her ‘best friend forever’ was allowed that distinction when I was not.  It was, perhaps, another indicator of how far I’d slipped in her estimation.

Perhaps, I thought, it was a necessary evil.  As I understood it, the Blaines were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in.  I didn’t ask if the Blaines thought we were just ‘anyone’ before I got the job offer.

And then there was that look between Alison and Elaine, quickly stolen before Alison realised I was looking at both of them.  I was out of my depth, in a place I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t understand.  And yet, apparently, Alison did.  I must have missed the memo.

“No,” Alison said softly, stealing a glance in my direction, “No secrets between friends.”

No secrets.  Her look conveyed something else entirely.

The waiter brought champagne, Krug, and poured glasses for each of us.  It was not the cheap stuff, and I was glad I brought a couple of thousand dollars with me.  We were going to need it.

Then, a toast.

To a new job and a new life.

“When did you decide?”  Elaine was effusive at the best of times, but with the champagne, it was worse.

Alison had a strange expression on her face.  It was obvious she had told Elaine it was a done deal, even before I’d made up my mind.  Perhaps she’d assumed I might be ‘refreshingly honest’ in front of Elaine, but it could also mean she didn’t really care what I might say or do.

Instead of consternation, she looked happy, and I realised it would be churlish, even silly, if I made a scene.  I knew what I wanted to say.  I also knew that it would serve little purpose provoking Elaine or upsetting Alison.  This was not the time or the place.  Alison had been looking forward to coming here, and I was not going to spoil it.

Instead, I said, smiling, “When I woke up this morning and found Alison missing.  If she had been there, I would not have noticed the water stain on the roof above our bed, and decided there and then how much I hated the place.” I used my reassuring smile, the one I used with the customers when all hell was breaking loose, and the forest fire was out of control.  “It’s the little things.  They all add up until one day …”  I shrugged.  “I guess that one day was today.”

I saw an incredulous look pass between Elaine and Alison, a non-verbal question; perhaps, is he for real?  Or, I told you he’d come around.

I had no idea the two were so close.

“How quaint,” Elaine said, which just about summed up her feelings towards me.  I think, at that moment, I lost some brownie points.  It was all I could come up with at short notice.

“Yes,” I added, with a little more emphasis than I wanted.  “Alison was off to get some studying in with one of her friends.”

“Weren’t the two of you off to the Hamptons, a weekend with some friends?” Jimmy piped up and immediately got the ‘shut up, you fool’ look that cut that line of conversation dead.  Someone forgot to feed Jimmy his lines.

It was followed by the condescending smile from Elaine, and “I need to powder my nose.  Care to join me, Al?”

A frown, then a forced smile for her new best friend.  “Yes.”

I watched them leave the table and head in the direction of the restroom, looking like they were in earnest conversation.  I thought ‘Al’ looked annoyed, but I could be wrong.

I had to say Jimmy looked more surprised than I did.

There was that odd moment of silence between us, Jimmy still smarting from his death stare, and for me, the Alison and Elaine show.  I was quite literally gob-smacked.

I drained my champagne glass, gathering some courage and turned to him.  “By the way, we were going to have a weekend away, but this legal tutorial thing came up.  You know Alison is doing her law degree.”

He looked startled when he realised I had spoken.  He was looking intently at a woman several tables over from us, one who’d obviously forgotten some basic garments when getting dressed.  Or perhaps it was deliberate.  She’d definitely had some enhancements done.

He dragged his eyes back to me.  “Yes.  Elaine said something or other about it.  But I thought she said the tutor was out of town and it had been postponed until next week.  Perhaps I got it wrong.  I usually do.”

“Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.”  I shrugged as the dark thoughts started swirling in my head again.  “This week or next, what does it matter?”

Of course, it mattered to me, and I digested what he said with a sinking heart.  It showed there was another problem between Alison and me; she might have been telling me lies.  If what he said was true and I had no reason to doubt him, where was she going tomorrow morning, and had she really been with a friend studying today?

We poured some more champagne, had a drink, then he asked, “This promotion thing, what’s it worth?”

“Trouble, I suspect.  Definitely more money, but less time at home.”

“Oh,” raised eyebrows.  Obviously, the women had not talked about the job in front of him, or, at least, not all the details.  “You sure you want to do that?”

At last, the voice of reason.  “Me?  No.”

“Yet you accepted the job.”

I sucked in a breath or two while I considered whether I could trust him.  Even if I couldn’t, I could see my ship was sinking, so it wouldn’t matter what I told him, or what Elaine might find out from him.  “Jimmy, between you and me, I haven’t as yet decided one way or another.  To be honest, I won’t know until I go up to Barclay’s office and he asks me the question.”

“Barclay?”

“My boss.”

“Elaine’s doing a job for a Barclay who recently moved into the tower a block down from us.  I thought I recognised the name.”

“How did Elaine get the job?”

“Oh, Alison put him onto her.”

“When?”

“A couple of months ago.  Why?”

I shrugged and tried to keep a straight face, while my insides were churning up like the wake of a supertanker.  I felt sick, faint, and wanted to die all at the same moment.  “Perhaps she said something about it, but it didn’t connect at the time.  Too busy with work, I expect.  I think I seriously need to get away for a while.”

I could hardly breathe, my throat was constricted, and I knew I had to keep it together.  I could see Elaine and Alison coming back, so I had to calm down.  I sucked in some deep breaths and put my ‘manage a complete and utter disaster’ look on my face.

And I had to change the subject, quickly, so I said, “Jimmy, Elaine told Alison, who told me, you were something of a guru of the cause and effects of the global economic meltdown.  Now, I have a couple of friends who have been expounding this theory …”

Like flicking a switch, I launched into the well-worn practice of ‘running a distraction’, like at work when we needed to keep the customer from discovering the truth.  It was one of the things I was good at, taking over a conversation and pushing it in a different direction.  It was salvaging a good result from an utter disaster, and if ever there was a time that it was required, it was right here, right now.

When Alison sat down and looked at me, she knew something had happened between Jimmy and me.  I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, but it didn’t matter.  If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact that I took over the dining engagement did.  She knew well enough that the only time I did that was when everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket.  She’d seen me in action before and had been suitably astonished.

But I got into gear, kept the champagne flowing and steered the conversation, as much as one could from a seasoned professional like Elaine, and, I think, in Jimmy’s eyes, he saw the battle lines and knew who took the crown on points.  Neither Elaine nor Jimmy suspected anything, and if the truth be told, I had improved my stocks with Elaine.  She was at times both surprised and interested, even willing to take a back seat.

Alison, on the other hand, tried poking around the edges, and, once when Elaine and Jimmy had got up to have a cigarette outside, questioned me directly.  I chose to ignore her and pretend nothing had happened, rather than tell her how much I was enjoying the evening.

She had her ‘secrets’.  I had mine.

At the end of the evening, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I was physically sick from the pent-up tension and the implications of what Jimmy had told me.  It took a while for me to pull myself together; so long, in fact, that Jimmy came looking for me.  I told him I’d drunk too much champagne, and he seemed satisfied with that excuse.  When I returned, both Alison and Elaine noticed how pale I was, but neither made any comment.

It was a sad way to end what was supposed to be a delightful evening, which, to a large degree, it was for the other three.  But I had achieved what I set out to do: to play them at their own game, watching the deception once I knew there was one, as warily as a cat watches its prey.

I had also discovered Jimmy’s real calling; a professor of economics at the same University Alison was doing her law degree.  It was no surprise in the end, on a night where surprises abounded, that the world could really be that small.

We parted in the early hours of the morning, a taxi whisking us back to the Lower East Side, another taking the Blaines back to the Upper West Side.  But, in our case, as Alison reminded me, it would not be for much longer.  She showed concern for my health and asked me what was wrong.  It took all the courage I could muster to tell her it was most likely something I ate and the champagne, and that I would be fine in the morning.

She could see quite plainly it was anything other than what I told her, but she didn’t pursue it.  Perhaps she just didn’t care what I was playing at.

And yet, after everything that had happened, once inside our ‘palace’, the events of the evening were discarded, like her clothing, and she again reminded me of what we had together in the early years before the problems had set in.

It left me confused and lost.

I couldn’t sleep because my mind had now gone down that irreversible path that told me I was losing her, that she had found someone else, and that our marriage was in its last death throes.

And now I knew it had something to do with Barclay.

…

© Charles Heath 2015-2026

Sunday In New York

The cinema of my dreams – It all started in Venice – Episode 14

Larry has a plan

…

I watched Juliet head back towards the hotel, joining the throng of tourists out walking in the refreshing night air before going back to their hotels.

The walk along the grand canal was particularly good and I’d taken it more than once over the years.  Perhaps I would again, tonight, before retiring to contemplate the next move in what was becoming a chess game.

Why had Larry decided after all this time to come after me?  And why the softly softly approach?  In bringing up Kerry’s mother in the conversation, it gave me the idea that perhaps I could ask her.

Of course given the fractious nature of the relationship between her and her son she might not know, but it was worth calling her if only to touch base after so long.  I was sure she would know about what happened to Violetta and understand.

Just before she disappeared from sight I could see her answering a call on her cell phone.  No doubt Larry was looking for more information after the revelations she had relayed to him.

Doing what I had was the equivalent of a double-edged sword, as the saying goes.  On the one hand, he might consider her had the advantage of knowing when and where I was going, but on the other, I knew he would be waiting, and therefore be prepared, though often preparation counted for nothing with unpredictable people like him.

Still, it was done now.  It also threw up another interesting sidebar, that Juliet didn’t like Cecilia if only for the reason she was with me.  Was it jealousy?  Surely she could not still have any feelings for me after all this time, and what she had gone through?

But, in normal circumstances, had she not been involved in this charade, and I had accidentally run into her in the street, what might my feelings be?  They had been all over the place that last time, following a near-death experience, and when my service was in its infancy.  It was a time when a lot of young agents got caught up in the euphoria of action, and some made fatal mistakes.

I had used one of my nine lives then, and several more since, before retiring.  I had never intended to return, but circumstances change, and whatever I may have wanted might have to take a back seat until this matter was sorted.  Then Rodby would make his play, as he always had, citing the losing battle we faced without people like me steering the ship in the right direction.

He was great with analogies, and praise, and putting you in a position where saying no was almost a crime against the state.  A bridge I would have to cross eventually.

The restaurant was closing for the night and a waiter came to gently tell us to leave.  It wasn’t late, but it was time to go.

I didn’t get far before a message appeared on my phone, a rendezvous outside the Doges Palace.  Alfie no doubt had the gist of the incoming call Juliet received not a half-hour before.

He was loitering inconspicuously when I found him, pretending to have an animated conversation with someone on the other end of his cell phone, speaking and gesturing as all Italians seemed to do.

He waved when he saw me, then wound up the fictitious call.

“Perhaps you should also be in the movies.  That was a very eloquent performance.”

He smiled.  “It wouldn’t fool too many people.”

“Is this about Juliet’s call?”

He looked surprised.

“I saw her get a call after she left me to go back to the hotel.”

“Of course.  And, yes.  He seems very upset you called him a moron.”

“If the shoe fits…  Don’t tell me he rang her just to vent over me calling him names.”

“No.  Just to tell her where and when she had to take you to your impending doom.  Seems the wait is over, and since you announced you’re going to visit his mother, he thought it was a perfect opportunity.”

I thought later, after I mentioned it, that it might present him with the means, and to use Juliet of who I would not suspect of luring me into a trap.  It was, in a way, on his part, very clever.

“What was her response?”

“A few choices words, and the fact she was not that close she could make such a request.”

“And let me guess, if she wants to see her brother again, come up with a plan?”

“More or less.  Do you really want to do this, this way?”

“Forewarned is forearmed.  It’s better than going in blind.  Is Cecilia a trained sniper?”

Many years ago Rodby insisted all his agents be trained to the highest proficiency in using a wide variety of guns.  I was in the first intake to benefit, and I had to say, sniper work was the best.

“She is.”

“Then I’ll talk to her. And get her there ahead of time, you too if possible, unless your operating Rodby’s chessboard in Italy.”

“No, I can take time out.  But I insist we have a solid plan before doing this.  No ad hoc, spur-of-the-moment stuff that Rodby tells me you’re famous for.”

Sometimes it was the only way, because the more people who knew, the less chance of success, particularly if there was a foreign mole in your midst.

“You’ll know everything as soon as I do.  Trust me.”

His look told me she did everything but trust me.  “You think you might get a visit in the night?”

“Should I sleep with Cecilia just to make it more interesting?”

“She’s not your personal toy to play with.”

“Wasn’t going to.  It’s just to make Juliet edgier, which, if she saw Cecilia in her pajamas, might push a button and catches her off guard.”

“It’s your call.  Let me know when the plan is set.”

Another thought came to mind, something I’d been thinking about.  “We don’t know where Larry has the bother holed up?  As I understand it, his on a video link so it’s not out in the wide-open spaces.”

“Not at the moment, but we’re working on it.  If it’s relevant I’ll let you know.  It would give us an advantage if we had him, but at the moment, it’s not on the table.  If and when you meet up with  Larry, he will be asking you a lot of questions.

And, as if he hadn’t been there at all, he was gone.  What was worrying was the reappearance of the Frenchman, nearby, and it was clear he had been following either me or Juliet.  There was no doubt he’d seen me with Alfie, but since the whole conversation had been conducted in Italian, it was hard to tell what he would have made of it.

Time would tell.  I would take a walk, consider the options and then go back to the hotel.

© Charles Heath 2022