My new story, ‘Shouting into an Empty Cave’ is now available to purchase on Amazon worldwide sites. It’s published by White House Publications, and you can buy it from here.
Our heroine is a call-vetters on a local radio talk show. It is her job to weed out the ‘loonies’ in order that the Davie Kutch show is fit for air. Only, one day, she receives a call which shatters all of her illusions about her life, her family and her identity. ‘Shouting into an Empty Cave’ is a story of communication gone awry. It’s a story which considers how secrets and lies within a family can have such wide-reaching effects.
And here’s a brief extract:
“Remember that old advert for cordless telephones? Wow it seems a long time ago now; generation after generation of mobile telephones have kind of rendered those old roaming phones a little useless now, but still, that ad had a lot of resonance with me.
The ad opened with a wide-shot of a nice middle class family out enjoying the British sunshine one summer afternoon. It looked to be a nice suburban house with a particularly well-tended garden; the lawn had been cut into regimental stripes. In the garden, kids were capering in the paddling pool; dog was generally making a nuisance of itself, getting soaked under the lawn-sprinkler and then shaking all the water over the kids in the pool; and mum was sitting on sparkling white garden furniture, a magazine open on her lap.
But wait, where was daddy? Was he in the greenhouse watering the plants? Was he cooking up a storm in the kitchen?
The camera zoomed in as though searching for the answer. Closer, closer, so we felt ourselves being drawn in to the bosom of that family. Consider yourself one of us. That type of thing. But then it continued to zoom in and the whole thing became a little uncomfortable; the camera made voyeurs of us. All of a sudden we were intruding on something over the garden fence, something private, something which we didn’t understand. Something like grief.
The camera offered a tight close-up of the mum’s face now and she wasn’t reading the magazine on her lap at all, merely staring off into the middle distance, lost. Her brow was creased, her bottom lip appeared to be trembling. A dark shadow appeared to have passed across that formerly Edenic garden.
But then her brand spanking new cordless telephone, which she’d been able to carry out to the garden and leave on top of the white plastic table, started to ring. The inference being that if she’d not gone cordless, she’d have missed that call. Sighing, she picked it up, pressed the ANSWER button, and lifted the phone to her cheek.
And then the ad went split-screen. We could still see mum on the bottom half of the screen sighing hello and examining her chipped nails. But now we could also see a man too: dad surely? Dad was ruggedly handsome though slightly dusty. He was dressed in army fatigues. He looked fatigued – it might, or might not have been a war zone behind him – but he looked excited too. Suddenly things started to make sense. Mum’s misery, the regimental striping of the lawn which called to mind a military man’s epaulettes. Thankfully, the ad didn’t intrude on their conversation, but the audience could easily gather what was going on. From the way mum’s face slowly, surely blossomed into something altogether more lovely, more hopeful too. From the way dad couldn’t stop smiling. The ad closed on the killer tag-line, A phone call can change your life. Daddy was coming home. That he’d still have been coming home even if he’d have had to send an answerphone message, or called back later, or hell, used a telegram, didn’t seem to matter.
I cried the first time I saw that ad. I was fourteen, gawky and all I wanted in life was not to stick out like a sore thumb. I’d been invited round to my sort of boyfriend’s house for tea and it was pretty much the first time we’d actually spent any time together without our friends being there.”