The Restoration Man & The Pélissier Scroll

By Simon John Cox

"a protagonist that you can't help but feel connected to...a beautifully crafted story and well worth the read" - Alain Gomez, Book Brouhaha

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon John Cox
• Release date: Aug 25, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465939845

Simon John Cox

Simon John Cox was born in Tunbridge Wells, has a degree in chemistry, a job in marketing and a black belt in Taekwon-Do. He has been writing fiction for as long as he can remember. He has had various short stories published, and is editing his second novel whilst trying to interest agents in his first. Simon is a founder member of the Tunbridge Wells Writers group, and is currently starring as the protagonist in his autobiography.

Book preview

The Restoration Man

and

The Pélissier Scroll

Published by Simon John Cox at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Simon John Cox

www.simonjohncox.com

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The Restoration Man

John doesn’t stay long at the wake.

It’s held upstairs at the Dun Tap, round the corner from the crematorium; just trestle tables and sandwiches and a hundred quid behind the bar for the mourners, who flock in after the service and croak their grief like ravens. He arrives last, circulates amongst them beneath heavy beams that smell of dust: lovely service, very respectful, it’s what she would have wanted. Someone gives him a beer. It feels heavy, and he drinks it too quickly. He leaves as soon as he feels that etiquette will allow.

Still in shock, I expect, says a steel-haired aunt, and she smiles briefly after him before returning to the carcass of the buffet.

At home, in the house where they lived, he is overcome by a feeling that she is nearby. Every time he walks into a room he feels as though she has just left it, senses that she is in the very next room, tells himself that if he can only get in there before she leaves…

When he reaches the bedroom he pauses, stands and looks at the urn in his hands for a long time before finally placing it amongst the black-framed pictures on the narrow mantel, sliding them left and right to make room. Past selves smile out at him in grainy colour