It's Still Life

At an Intersection Named After an English King and a Saint
Six Sentence Story: Part 6

To Stoke a Fire

Nick opens the Georgian bowed glass doors of the Wykeham Arms, “Thank you,” I say as the barman looks up from pouring a pint and nods, “Table by the bishop’s mitre is ready; it’s been relaid for two, Bridget.”

I catch a glimpse of Nick’s grin—for him, time is fabric, ghosts of it everywhere: the school desk-tables with ink wells (salvaged from Winchester College); walking sticks (one left behind by Churchill); Lord Nelson often took a room upstairs; tankards from the ceiling; hats; caps; signal flags; navy drawings; a ship’s bell, Ronald Searle’s risqué satirical cartoons on the walls; and several dogs calmly watching Hünga from under occupied tables.

The waitress sets a bottle of sparkling water before me and a large glass of Malbec before Nick—he’s ordered the lamb Wyk Pie; I, eyeing the crab cakes with bok choi at a nearby table, order those instead; and soon we succumb to the Wykeham’s charm … time ignores the blend of new and old and turns a deaf ear to the hypnotic ticking of interlocking clock gears (Hünga’s lulled into a shallow sleep by the fireplace); above the mantelpiece, a sign reading ‘The stoker may have left, but we keep this fire burning’ puts a twinkle in Nick’s eyes.

“Do you know,” says Nick, leaning forward in his chair and swirling the wine in his glass, “I think you’re one who could, at any moment, bolt for the door and head for a forest, and never return.”

“And if I did,” I ask with all curiosity, “would you follow after me, or would you finish your lamb pie first…” and he laughs low and dark as Irish peat, “I’d finish my pie first—and then join you.”

I set down my fork and knife, the clink of silver against old porcelain the only sound between us for a moment – Hünga wakes and sits up, staring at us as if expecting a storm, “Perfect,” I smile, and Nick lifts his glass, “Sláinte!”

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Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story including the word blend  Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.