The Candle Dropped

Nathan had done well for himself, he had left the village of his birth some years previously to find his fortune, and it had not disappointed him.

So, on this bright spring day, he proudly stepped off the train and walked along the river path the three winding miles to his birthplace – the Village where as a child he'd been the butt of many a prank. But Nathan had changed. Inwardly, but not much outwardly. He bore his years lightly, a neat beard and knowing eyes the only real changes since his youth.

He prided himself on his fitness, and wealth had sharpened his wits, making him immune from the scams and schemes that the world propagates to take advantage of folk less streetwise than himself.

By the time Nathan reached The Ship Inn, he was ready for a drink. Not much had changed since he left, and in particular he was glad to see the village hall had escaped the money-grabbers and developers. It occupied a prime position not only in the village, but in his memory. There it was, that as an awkward teenager, he had plucked up the courage to ask the Village beauty for a date. That one date, the drive to the town in his father's old car (taken without his consent for reasons we won't go into here) and the blissful evening, sharing stories and dreams and staring into one another's eyes as if the world had disappeared.

But, like a dream, there had been the awakening. His father's wrath was one reason he had run away, the other was that Penny, the girl of his dreams, suddenly vanished.

There were rumours of course. Sent away to relatives some said, anyway, Nathan had drawn a line under that chapter of his life, and now he had come back to lay some ghosts.

He wasn't prepared for what happened when he entered the bar. At first he thought he must be dreaming. He rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath and did what he always did when confronted with a situation that demanded a wise response. He counted to 10, silently in his head, while trying to be rational.

He blinked, put the back of his left hand to his mouth and gave a little cough, then, in answer to the question "what will it be?" he replied "a pint of best please", unable to take his eyes off the barmaid.

How could it be, he had carried a candle for Penny since their school days, yet she didn't seem to recognise him. She looks hardly any difference from when we parted, all those years ago he thought.

But there was something strange – something odd about the way she looked at him, as if he was a stranger, a man from another part of the country. He paid for his beer, and took it back to the table by the window where the afternoon sun turned him into a dark shadow, and he could observe her and the other customers.

Thoughts raced through the empty corridors of his mind, searching for an explanation, but the more stolen glimpses he took of her, the more confused his brain became, until, through the unfocused vision and foggy ears that presages a total blackout, a voice cut through. A slender, still attractive woman, had moved purposefully towards him saying "It's Nathan isn't it, my goodness - after all these years - you haven't changed a bit have you".

Incomprehension threatened to drown him. Who was this woman? How come she seemed to know him?

She nodded her head towards the bar, then said with a knowing smile,

"I see you've met my daughter".