Past Present by Secret Narrative Page A

promises to burn off the early mist, the autumnal weather reminds me that it is not long until winter comes. Falconworth won’t be completed until Christmas week. I can never decide which part of the year is my favourite, there is so much to enjoy in every season. I love my birthday month, the promise of spring, and the lengthening days. And yet, autumn with her dark, rich, decadent colours, the smell of cordite, and bonfires, cosy fireside evenings, hearty food and Christmas, just around the corner, is always welcome. At the military hospital, we always celebrated Christmas well, ensuring that patients and staff didn’t lose out because they were not at home. It occurs to me that I haven’t a clue whether Matthew bothers with celebration.
    Doing as he asks, I dress carefully in a simple navy shift, boyfriend cardigan, leather pumps, a mist of Chanel No 5 and a coat of the lipstick he adores. My shoes make no noise as I move across the reception hallway of Falconworth and towards the doors leading out to the stone staircase which in turn lead to the driveway where we leave my car. I drop my coat and bag onto the back seat. I’m still getting used to all the gadgets and the higher seating position of the Jeep. I drive slowly out of the gates and turn out onto the main road, pushing my foot down a little harder nudging the speed up to about fifty miles per hour. I don’t want to drive any faster in the unfamiliar vehicle.
    I wind through the cluster of villages that nestle between Falconworth and our local town, bypassing the town centre I head to the city. Not bothering with music, preferring the company of my thoughts, I consider the shopping task, and wonder if I’ll be able to go through with it. Figging in the privacy of the priest hole at Falconworth is one thing, masturbating in public, albeit in the relative seclusion of a store changing room, another. Hating the idea of letting him down, I decide to do my best to make his dream come true.
    “Thank goodness for the parking angel.” I say aloud so she can hear me. I believe in angels, Mother once told me that I’ve always seen them. It’s weird, but whenever I need to park in the teeming, overpopulated city, I summon my parking angel.
    “You’re such a goose, Eleanor.” Julie laughs when we’re shopping together. I laugh too, but often, a space will materialise.
    The welcome spot today is in the middle of a row of cars. I reverse in. I am contrary about reversing. No matter how snug the space, I choose to enter it backwards, in one manoeuvre. It works, most of the time. That’s military training for you. I can handle all types of vehicle, tanks, military ambulances; the lot. A little something that Matty doesn’t know about me. Yet. I’ve been yearning to have a go with the little digger they’re using for the grounds at Falconworth.
    Smiling like an idiot, I point the fob at the jeep, stick the parking receipt into my pocket and make my way to After Eden . As well as having a fantastic name, the store is always packed from wall-to-wall with beautiful lingerie.
    I recall the night I met Matty and the siren-like underwear I wore beneath my forties style clothing, his pleasure when I succumbed to his wishes, pushed down onto the grass at the base. He set the rules that night, with two witnesses, and I accepted his challenge, on my knees servicing strangers’ cocks while he plumbed my depths with easy strokes.
    For our picnic date, the following day, I chose pure white, the contrast less dramatic next to my ivory skin. I will never forget the feather and his creativity at my core.
    Following his shopping orders I decide to try a creamy colour, which looks a little darker than my flesh but sweet, pure, untried. I attract the girl’s attention. She catches my eye effortlessly and glides towards me as if she walks on air, and I notice her properly for the first time. About the same age as me, there the similarity ends because the girl is extremely dark, with