Grandma's Army

By Anthony Padgett

In the small Lancashire village of Willowdale, we meet our hero, 72-year-old retired teacher Doreen Davis. Doreen spends her days baking, knitting, and caring for her beloved cat, Whiskers. She also participates in the local historical society, where she is known for her accurate portrayals of women from the 1920s during their annual Wartime Weekends. Her friend Mabel, a fellow society member and retired nurse, often joins her as they scour charity shops for the perfect outfits and accessories.
One day, while shopping for their costumes, Doreen and Mabel overhear a group of self-proclaimed "generals" discussing a plan to make the Wartime Weekends a more exclusive event, requiring hefty fees and eliminating the educational aspects in favor of more lucrative activities. Doreen is horrified by this idea, as she has always believed that the events should be accessible and educational for everyone in the community. Mabel convinces Doreen that they must do something to stop these changes from happening.
This heart-warming tale was created by Vintage Dance Teacher and Artist, Anthony Padgett, with the help of Artificial Intelligence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9781447629368

Book preview

GRANDMA’S ARMY

By Anthony D Padgett

& Ghost (In The Machine) Writer

Published by

Ghost In The Machine Writer

First Published 2023

Copyright Anthony D Padgett 2023

CHAPTER 1

Doreen Davis stood on the cobblestone path that wound through her small, well-kept garden. Her silver hair caught the early morning sunlight like a halo around her head. The 72-year-old retired librarian had always been petite and spry, but age had begun to bend her slightly at the shoulders. She wore a floral dress that brushed against her shins as she moved, and her eyes sparkled with an intelligence and warmth that invited conversation.

Good morning, Whiskers, Doreen cooed to her cat, who sat perched on the low stone wall surrounding her flourishing rosebushes. The black-and-white feline blinked slowly at her before leaping down to join her on the path. Are you ready for breakfast?

As they made their way back to the cosy red-brick cottage that Doreen called home, she considered the day ahead of her. The village of Willowdale was quiet in the early hours, the kind of peacefulness that accompanies a rural community where everyone knows their neighbours. The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the sweet aroma of blooming flowers from her garden, and bird songs filled the air.

Alright, Whiskers, Doreen said as she opened the door to her quaint kitchen. Let's get you fed first. She shook some kibble into the cat's bowl, enjoying the rhythmic sound it made as it hit the ceramic dish. She poured herself a hot cup of tea and settled down at her round wooden table. As she sipped, she peered out the window, watching the world outside awaken.

With breakfast finished, Doreen rolled up her sleeves and began her daily routine. First, she mixed together ingredients for a batch of scones – the buttery scent wafting through her kitchen as they baked. She hummed a tune from her childhood as she kneaded the dough, her hands coated in a fine dusting of flour. The scones would be shared with her friends at their weekly knitting circle later that day.

Whiskers, do you think I should try a new pattern today? she asked the cat, who had taken up residence on a patch of sunlight that streamed through the window. His only response was a purr and a flick of his tail as he stretched out lazily. Doreen chuckled to herself and began flipping through her collection of knitting patterns, pausing occasionally to admire the intricate designs.

By mid-morning, Doreen's scones were cooling on a wire rack, and she had settled into her favourite armchair, knitting needles clicking together as she worked on a delicate lace shawl. The scent of rosemary from her garden drifted in through an open window, while the soft creaking of the aged wooden floorboards beneath her feet provided a comforting rhythm.

Almost time for our walk, Whiskers, she murmured, glancing at the antique clock on the mantelpiece. The cat stirred, as if sensing the impending change in routine, and hopped off his sunny perch. Together, they ventured outside, where the sunlight danced through the leaves of the ancient oak tree that dominated the small village green.

As they walked along the narrow lanes of Willowdale, Doreen greeted passing neighbours with a friendly smile and a wave. She couldn't help but feel grateful for the simple pleasures that filled her days – the smell of her roses, the taste of her freshly baked scones, and the comforting presence of her beloved cat. Life, she mused, was good.

As Doreen approached the quaint Willowdale Historical Society building, with its ivy-covered walls and heavy oak doors, she could hardly contain her excitement. The society was a cornerstone of the small community, dedicated to preserving the village's rich past and sharing it with future generations. Members worked tirelessly to document local lore and maintain the archives, which housed everything from old photographs and diaries to antique farming tools and delicate lace doilies.

Morning, everyone! Doreen greeted cheerfully as she entered the meeting room, where several fellow members had already gathered. They all shared a passion for history, delighting in uncovering long-forgotten stories and bringing them to life through engaging events and activities.

Ah, Doreen, just in time, said Mr Thompson, the society chairman, as he adjusted his glasses. We were discussing the final preparations for Wartime Weekends.

Doreen's eyes sparkled at the mention of the annual event, one of the most anticipated occasions in Willowdale. For two days each summer, the village would step back in time to the 1920s, commemorating the resilience and contributions of the women who had played such a vital role during the Great War. Doreen was particularly proud of her portrayal of these women, devoting countless hours to researching their clothing, hairstyles, and mannerisms in order to ensure historical accuracy.

Right, I've been working on my costume, Doreen announced, her hands clasped in determination. I've found a lovely pattern for a dress that's true to the era, but I still need to find the perfect accessories. There's no point in doing this if we don't get the details right.

Indeed, Doreen, replied Mrs Jenkins, the society's treasurer, who was known for her fastidious attention to detail. You always do such a splendid job. I'm sure this year will be no exception.

Thank you, dear, Doreen smiled warmly before she was lost in thought again. She knew that Mabel, a fellow member and formidable competitor in the costume department, would also be searching for the perfect outfit. The unspoken rivalry between them had persisted for years, but it drove both women to excel in their portrayals.

Perhaps we could visit some charity shops in the neighbouring towns, suggested Doreen aloud. I'm sure there are hidden treasures waiting to be discovered.

Sounds like an excellent idea, agreed Mr Thompson. And while you're at it, do keep an eye out for any interesting artefacts we could display during the event.

As the meeting continued, Doreen's mind buzzed with anticipation. She couldn't wait to scour the nearby charity shops in search of the ideal accessories for her 1920s ensemble. And though she would never admit it, she relished the idea of outshining her rival Mabel in the process.

The morning sun cast a golden hue on the cobbled streets of Willowdale as Doreen stepped out of her cottage, a wicker basket swinging from her arm. As she strolled towards the village centre, she spotted a familiar figure approaching – Mabel.

Mabel was a woman of average height with a stout build, wrapped in a knitted shawl that draped over her shoulders. Her silver hair was neatly pinned into a bun, and her round spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose. Her face, etched with lines of wisdom and experience, bore a warm smile as she approached Doreen.

Ah, Doreen! Mabel exclaimed, her voice carrying the same gentle authority she had wielded during her nursing days. I heard you were planning a trip to the charity shops. Mind if I join you? I'm on the hunt for my Wartime Weekend outfit too.

Of course not, Mabel, Doreen replied, concealing her surprise at the sudden appearance of her rival. The more the merrier, or so they say.

Together, the two women ambled towards the first charity shop on their list, a quaint little store tucked away in a side street. The scent of old books and worn fabrics greeted them as they entered, and they eagerly began sifting through the racks of clothing.

Look at this! Mabel held up a delicate lace collar, her eyes sparkling with excitement. This would be perfect for my flapper dress.

Quite lovely, Doreen replied, feigning indifference as she rifled through a pile of vintage gloves. She knew she needed something truly spectacular to outshine Mabel's find. Her fingers brushed against a pair of silk opera gloves, their smooth texture sending a thrill down her spine. How about these, Mabel?

Exquisite, Mabel conceded, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. They'd match your cloche hat perfectly.

As the day wore on, Doreen and Mabel navigated through numerous charity shops, their baskets gradually filling with treasures. Yet, despite their success in unearthing vintage gems, a growing sense of unease gnawed at Doreen.

_I must find something truly remarkable_, she thought, her determination mounting as they entered their final stop – a dusty, forgotten shop hidden in the shadow of the town's old clock tower.

Last chance, Doreen muttered to herself, the anticipation and pressure mounting. Her fingers trembled as she sifted through a box of trinkets, hoping against hope to find the pièce de résistance that would secure her victory over Mabel.

Time's running out, Doreen, Mabel taunted gently, her voice softened by camaraderie. Better make it count.

Indeed, Doreen replied, steeling herself for the final search. She knew that only one of them could emerge victorious from