WOKINGHAM Repair Cafe volunteer and member of Wokingham Writers Jo Davies is turning real life repairs into short stories.
Inspired by the monthly collection of items brought to the cafe by borough residents, she allows her writer’s pen to weave together fact and fiction.
Here, she takes a broken clock and gives it a history.
The Gift of Time, by Jo Davies:
The white-haired lady deposited a mantelpiece clock on the repair table with a clunk.
Polished, golden wood curved around a cream clock face in a smooth sphere between two short, fat legs.
“I hope you can fix it,” she said, “My late husband bought it for me when we married.”
Dave’s face lit up in surprise.
“That’s a blast from the ‘70s!” he laughed.
“We had one like that when I was a boy.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“The minute hand only moves from six to nine,” she explained.
He picked up the clock and examined it, smiling as it triggered memories of his childhood home.
“I know it’s old, but it’s got sentimental value,” she fretted.
Dave turned the clock over, only half listening.
A frown crossed his face and he stiffened as he rubbed a thumb over a rough dent in the wood where one corner had been chipped.
“How long did you say you’ve had it?” he asked, looking properly at the woman for the first time.
Around them, the repair cafe was bustling.
The odour of fresh coffee wafted through the church hall and the hum of electrical tools and chatter echoed from the high, vaulted ceiling.
Morning sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows and accentuated the dust rising from the table opposite, where Colin was fixing yet another vacuum cleaner.
“Well, we got married in seventy-five, ” she mentally calculated, “Getting on fifty years, I suppose.”
She leant forward, lowering her voice.
“We were quite poor back then, but my Len always found a way.”
She smiled, but her eyes were full of loss.
Dave could still remember the scolding when he’d accidentally knocked the clock off the mantelpiece and chipped the corner.
He had felt so guilty about it.
He’d expected a smack, but his mother had lectured him about playing inside and sent him to his room.
He could remember the two policemen who’d visited their home after the burglary a few years later.
The clock was on a long list of missing items.
His parents had been upset, but he’d only been ten and had found it exciting having policemen visit, like on the telly.
He studied the woman in front of him, her lined face showing both grief and hope.
He cradled the clock in his adult hands, now so much larger than the last time he’d held it, and sighed.
His parents were long dead, otherwise…
“I think I can guess what’s wrong,” he said, picking up his screwdriver and setting to work.
Wokingham Repair Cafe meets at All Saints Church, Norreys, on the second Saturday of the month, from 10am until noon.
Wokingham Writers group meets at Wokingham Library on the third Saturday of each month from 10am until midday.
For information, email: [email protected], call: 01189 781368, or visit: wokinghamboroughlibraries.wordpress.com and: wokinghamrepaircafe.uk
