Straightforward Short Stories

“Yes,” he had replied to the lawyer’s questioning, he, John Cranham, was about to go abroad. He wished to give his friend, Randal Thompson, a power of attorney, a legal document empowering Thompson to deal with any funds or properties of his, Cranham’s, whilst he was away.

Although she'd put another coin in the meter not that long ago, the old gas fire, which did little to dispel the chill that had crept into every corner of Bessie's living-room, hissed and popped as if it might be going out.

“Patience," said Gentle George profoundly as he casually stubbed out a Sobranie Black Russian on Harold the Hip’s upturned hand, “has a certain similarity to money.  If either of them run out, there is always hardship.”

I kept telling myself I was going to enjoy this week at the Ocean View Hotel at Seahampton, although I know it was not the kind of holiday I would have chosen. I shouldn’t have been here at all if it hadn’t been for Fiona.

The clock on the wall of the Mission Hall said half-past-three, and I yawned discreetly into my screwed-up handkerchief, wondering just how much longer it would be before the Sunday school reading was over.