Serrated Skylines: And Other Tales

By Sue Whitaker

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"This book is great! Really has you gripped and all the other books are fab."-Book Lover100, 5/5 stars.

"Really enjoyed this book, well made too with great writing. LOVE love love this series."-BookSareFaB, 5/5 stars.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ETA Publishing House
• Release date: Apr 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781907978432

Sue Whitaker

Sue admits to being a ‘big kid’ herself and likes nothing more than walking in the rain and splashing in puddles (if no one is looking). The inspiration for most of her writing come from spending time in the North York Moors. The region where both her 'And Other Tales' short stories and the ‘And Jake Makes Three’ series of books are set. Sue is passionate about animal welfare and conservation to protect natural habitats. Her writing is compared to best selling author's such as Enid Blyton and Jeffrey Archer to name a few.

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Serrated Skylines and Other Tales!

The second in the collection of short stories centred round the captivating world of charity retail. The tales continue.

These charming tales will intrigue, entertain and have you wanting more!

Other books by Sue Whitaker

Fiction for Children

Harry And Me

Harry and Me: Spider’s Eye View

Harry and Me: A Dangerous World

And Jake Makes Three

And Jake Makes Three in the Snow

And Jake Makes Three in the Vampires Den

And Jake Makes Three and

the Secret of Badlands

And Jake Makes Three and the

Chimney Sweep Soldiers

And Jake Makes Three and the Time

They Will Never Forget

And Jake Makes Three in Danger at Misty Cove

The Further Adventures of Mr. Wallace

Whatever Next Mr. Wallace

Fiction for all ages

Remember Remember

Another Man’s Trousers and Other Tales

Unfinished Business and Other Tales

Mr Lonely

Dear Anyone

Sue Whitaker

serrated skylines and Other Tales!

serrated skylines and Other Tales

Copyright © 2012 Sue Whitaker.

This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.

The Author has asserted the right to be identified as the creator of this work. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, stored, in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is sold, subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including the condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All rights reserved.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

E-Book ISBN 978-1-907978-43-2

Paperback ISBN 978-1-907978-06-7

First Edition

Published by ETA BOOKS an imprint of

ETA PUBLISHING HOUSE LLP

22 Greenbank Road, Greenbank, Bristol,

BS5 6EY, United Kingdom

Company Registered No: OC373475

Customer Service: 0843 289 2274

[e-mail]

www.etapublishing.com

Contents

Other books by Sue Whitaker

Preface

Introduction

Serrated Skylines

The Life and Times of Mr. Wallace

The Sound of Silence

Shades of Grey

The Faded Union Jack

Odd Socks

The Diary of Esther Portman

The Lady-killers

Bricking It

Granny’s Teeth

The Teddy Bears Picnic

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

The Joker

The Two Linda’s

Dissent Into the Abyss

Tangerine Rain

An Unsuitable Job for a Woman?

Mary, Queen of Aerobics

The Lopsided Mannequin

The Twelfth of Never

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Preface

Whilst the stories within this collection are all true, the names of the different charities, along with the names of the characters who work and volunteer for them, have been changed. The locations have been altered only when necessary to protect their identity further. Some of the tales occurred many years ago, while others have been fairly recent. I have intentionally mixed the timelines of the tales to add variety to the collection.

If anyone who is mentioned in the tales that follow, does recognise themselves, I hope they will take the inclusion of their story as a compliment and an appreciation of our time spent together.

Introduction

I believe that time is very precious.

The volunteers featured within the following tales freely donate their own valuable time to benefit charitable causes. Add the daily support from customers, and people wishing to donate their belongings, and the end result is a lively, unique place of work that is both humbling and inspirational. I would like to thank everyone immensely, not only for their steadfast support, but for helping me to perceive the world as a better place.

Working alongside volunteers has been an overwhelming experience – their aspirations admirable, their friendships irreplaceable.

Serrated Skylines

I stared vacantly through the grimy pane of glass, the one and Ionly source of light.

I had applied for the post of Assistant Manager at the charity shop, which sat amongst the foothills of the Pennines, only a few weeks before, and my career was in its very early days.

I had no experience whatsoever of charity retail, nor with working with volunteers, and no one could have been more stunned than I had been when my application had been successful. Yet, that little shop was to be the source of a steep learning curve, which would eventually change my outlook on life forever. The window that held my attention was almost hidden behind high, uneven piles of donated clothes which resembled the Rocky Mountains in Canada. I felt inconsolably trapped behind those jagged peaks, and longed to see the serrated skyline beyond, from a different angle.

A deep shuddering sigh racked my body, as I stood with arms folded – apparently my only protection against a cruel, insensitive world.

I winced, the force from my crossed arms too strong for the painful, external bruises that covered my upper body. Although, no matter how tightly I held on, my grip remained ineffective. I felt my pent up emotions quickly slipping out of control, as a tear of frustration squeezed its way past my eyelashes.

My unpleasant journey towards this distressing time in my life, I believe, was down to my own stupidity. During those dark days, and to this day still, I feel that the harrowing circumstances that occurred were no one’s fault but my own - even though the abuse and blows had come from the irrational fists of another!

Have you ever felt that you just cannot do right for doing wrong?

‘That’s life!’ I hear you say? Only in my case my every wrong was followed by harsh beatings, delivered by someone twice my size and strength. The insincere regrets and apologies that were never far away became an irritating balm, which did little to ease the torment that plagued a life of constantly walking on eggshells.

I sincerely began to think that this was my destiny - that the serrated skylines that stared back at me through the porthole of my misery were in fact a representation of my own needle- shaped nerves.

However, one day I woke up! I saw my life and decided to change it.

I jumped in with both size-fives, and reported the psychological and physical abuse that I had suffered at the hands of my partner to the police.

I was still baring the physical scars, but I had been told that they would soon fade. The other scars? - Well, I was prepared for them to take a little longer - much longer.

It was during those early days, when my only distraction seemed to be the beckoning undulating horizon that I met someone who had come into the shop with a special donation.

He was, maybe, well into his sixties, with an impressive white beard, that for some reason had reminded me of childhood Christmas’s - evenings sat by the open fireplace - knitted socks dangling from the mantelpiece – waiting expectantly.

His metal framed glasses which were perched on the end of his bulbous nose, had the thickest lenses that I had ever seen, and I had to wonder what, if anything, would he be able to see if ever he lost or broke them.

However, as he entered the shop and walked with a lilting gait over to where I was standing by the counter, his captivating smile had me intrigued from the off.

Good morning my dear, he said with gusto, the corners of his smile almost touching the fringes of his clear blue eyes, that seemed to penetrate deep into the windows of my soul, to instantly comprehend it’s delicate state. He confidently rested his bulky frame upon the counter, while he tussled with something in the pocket of his chunky overcoat that was the colour of a full-bodied wine.

I had a peculiar feeling that we had met previously, although I knew that I had never seen him before. Nevertheless, I could do nothing to stop the turn of the screws, which were situated in the corners of my mouth that wound my lips into a returning smile. My first for many weeks!

It was mid-December, and extremely cold outside. The sudden change in temperature on the gentleman’s glasses had misted the glass, so he swiped them from his face, and began to wipe them on his coat as he talked.

I have brought this for you, he said, his voice lowered so that only I could hear him.

He placed a crumpled parcel which was tied with a piece of string on the counter between us, and it was on this unassuming object