Romantic Voices

THEME: Voices for Romantic Friday Writers:
Flash Fiction 400 words max. Who might be talking?
Who might be eavesdropping?
Or could it be a case of ethereal voices?
Whatever, have fun with Voices!

Here's my entry:


Dissenting Voices ~ Divine Forgiveness by Madeleine Maddocks

Alice’s smile beamed across her face as Michael smoothed an affectionate hand over her knee.

“Keep your hands on the steering wheel” she teased, as they drove along the winding Cornish roads to their holiday destination in St.Ives. She admired his dark brown hair flecked with silver and her heart swelled with love for him making her squeeze his knee lasciviously in return.

“Stop it wench!” he laughed.

The smell of new car wafted into her nose and seemed to add an air of glamour and excitement to everything. Nothing could dampen her ardour; spoil the mood. She longed to be alone with him in their ensuite room. This was their first weekend away since their inaugural date, nine months ago and Alice knew it was going to be the most romantic weekend in her entire life. She sighed blissfully, imagining those barefoot walks hand in hand on the beach; shared moments in the art galleries; savouring coffee and ice cream in the cafés.  Her life before Michael had been devoid of flowers- chocolates-romance. Now at thirty she felt like a love sick teenager.

“We’d best introduce ourselves and then I’ll bring in the bags” Michael suggested, as he nosed the car into the parking space, tugged on the handbrake and cut the ignition.

That was what she loved about him that he was so organised, so particular. An older woman with grey hair answered the door, her gaze scrutinizing the couple. A censorious expression was carved into the lines on her face and reflected in the level gaze of her grey-blue eyes.

 

“Hello, Mrs. Johnson” Michael said. “We’ve booked a room for three nights. I’m Mr. Hanscombe and this is my err…”

A cold chill gripped Alice’s heart. It was true they weren’t married, she wasn’t even his fiancée, but she was his girlfriend, yet Michael always seemed to recoil from using such a teenage label.  
            “This is my err” he stumbled again. His expression frantic, groping like a drowning man searching for a lifeline.  

Alice’s face set in a steely grimace. She took Mrs. Johnson’s hand and with a determined smile fixed between her ears she said “I’m Alice, pleased to meet you.”

As the woman led the way to their room, Alice tried to quiet the dissenting voice inside her head that whittled: ‘To err is human, to err twice is downright mortifying!’    (396 words) MPA