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Jubbergate
By zmbbw
18 December 2007


I have a writing buddy. Her name is L although she'll probably use a pseudonym when she joins this site to protect her identity; I think it's best. For about a year we've been slinging random words at each other and writing pieces about them. For this however, we used a photograph for inspiration.


Speak, if only to yourself. Speak when the sun beats down on your gin-sopped brain. Speak when you’re high on your brother-in-law’s sex. Speak when you’re pummelled by George’s Methodist fists. Speak to hear your voice however tiny. Speak to feel free.

 “September 20th, the year of our Lord 1880. Baby Emma’s first birthday.” George graced breakfast, Emma held awkwardly like a soiled marrow in his arms. “We have much to be grateful for. Lord make us truly grateful. Amen.”

“Amen.” Isabella oyez-ed her Amens like a common barrow-boy, her righteousness as public as York’s sewers.

“It’s mutually beneficial,” was all my father had to say about my marrying George. He’d mumbled his consent one winter’s evening in the shadows of a flickering oil lamp; any views I might have had batted aside like the flame caught in a draft. They shook hands over brandy and cigars – not his best cigars. Isabella moved in with us before their glowing butts had faded and I was pregnant before the ashtray was emptied.

“Thank you sister,” George said passing Baby Emma to Isabella. Until next year I thought.

“Samuel will be along at eleven to set up,” he said snagging a sausage with a fork and me with a look.

“I’ll mind the store ...”

“No!” he interrupted. “It’s a family business. We’ll have a family portrait. Sunday-best.”

At eleven we arranged ourselves below the freshly painted sign, the steps still leaning against the window. Wells Brokers, 9A Jubbergate.

“I’ll take Emma,” I reached out.

“No I think …”

“Isabella! I’ll take my daughter. Please.”

George’s nod fell lightly.

When Samuel's flash exploded in grey smoke Isabella was simmering beneath her bonnet, George was just simmering and Baby Emma flung her voice into the sky.

Reviews

Written by Bottleblondesurfer (3331 comments posted) 19th December 2007
I liked this. I thought as an idea it worked well. It’s interesting what you can read into a photo. You have a strong imagination. 
It was quite a vivid story you painted round the photo. I thought the bit that worked best was the lead up to the portrait at the end. 
I didn’t really buy into the opening paragraph, a bit overly dramatic, but I thought the rest of it was quite effective. I realise that you were trying to say the marriage was more of a rushed transaction but your metaphor with the cigar was a bit strained. 
I didn’t think the title did justice to the story, though .The story wasn’t about where they were living it was about them. 
An atmospheric and vibrant description, in fact it could easily have been longer and told us more of the couple. 
Jane 

Written by zmbbw (21 comments posted) 20th December 2007
Jane, 
 
Thanks for that; all good points, well made. I know what you mean about the title, it also goes by the name of 'Mutualy Beneficial'. Truth is, I just like the word 'Jubbergate'. 
 
Michael

Written by Lizzy (790 comments posted) 24th December 2007
I agree with Jane, an interesting group of characters that I'd like to hear more about. 
Lizzy

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