Writing for Fun
January 2021
A Conscious decision - Lynn Gale
A slice of morning sun visible through the stained glass window, slid across the stone floor, the encroaching light adding a little warmth to the small village church.
The vicar spread the old battered red bibles amongst the pews along with the order of service sheets that the young widow had delivered yesterday.
Her husband had been a well respected, wealthy member of the community.
He was confident of a full collection box later.
She had limped into his Harley Street Clinic after tripping outside. His long-serving nurse informed the Doctor.
‘I’m so sorry to be such a nuisance,’ she said, her voice soft and melodic.
He gazed into those amazing green eyes, the full red lips, and long blonde hair, and he was hooked.
‘Let’s take a look at that foot,’ he said, smoothing back his now greying hair.
The nurse shook her head. ‘No fool like an old fool,’ she muttered.
From a happy singleton, he became half of a couple.
Romantic meals, theatre trips and weekends away filled his free time.
On a whirlwind trip to Paris, to celebrate their three-month anniversary, she accepted his marriage proposal.
‘She’s a gold digger,’ the nurse told a friend over coffee, ‘only after his money.’
A wedding date hastily arranged; she said she couldn’t wait. They ordered matching wedding rings, and she selected the honeymoon location: the remote, exotic, Park Hyatt in the Maldives.
A solicitor bought some papers into the Clinic for him to alter and sign.
‘The Doctor is in with someone now,’ the nurse informed him.
The solicitor shook his head. ‘I can’t wait, I’ve parked on double yellows.’
‘Leave them with me, come back later.’
The nurse flicked open the folder. ‘Changes to last will and testament,’ she mused, raising her eyebrows.
As the last patient left, she took the papers in. ‘Just need your signature.’
He signed without a second thought.
The wedding day approached, a few close friends for her, along with his practice staff and half of the village who wanted to see the young bride the Doctor was marrying.
They smirked as she made her way down the aisle, wearing a Cinderella-style dress with a tiara.
‘What on earth does she look like?’ the nurse tutted. ‘No class at all.’
An unfortunate incident occurred on the second day in their secluded villa, involving a rogue peanut, tragically cutting short their honeymoon.
‘I don’t know what happened,’ she sobbed hysterically to the investigating officers. ‘I was so sure I packed his EpiPen.’
Once again, the church was full. The widow comforted by a handsome young man who squeezed her hand and kept giving her tender looks.
‘He should never have married her,’ the nurse told her companion, shaking her head sadly.
Sitting in the solicitor’s office in her black dress, veiled hat and dark glasses, the widow held a handkerchief up to her face to hide the small smile playing about her lips.
The solicitor began to read out the legal jargon.
‘Get on with it,’ she hissed through gritted teeth, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor.
‘I bequeath my practice, house and my life savings,’ she leaned forward in anticipation ‘to my loyal nurse…’
‘Nooooo!’ she screamed, ‘he said it would all be mine.’