George

It had become 'George shaped' through years of him having dropped his rather ample backside onto its cushions. And this is exactly what George did now. The sun streaming through the arched window, warming him and 'it' to the perfect degree of comfort. There had been attempts to have it replaced or even recovered but George was having none of it. 'I'll not be here for much longer. Do what you like with it when I'm gone. Till then, keep your mucky paws off it.' This said with an evil gleam in the eye, and off the set of false teeth.

Heron's Rest, a retirement home for 'professionals' located a stone's throw away from a large Midlands city. Architecturally designed, a village environment suited to discerning clients wanting to ease their way into, George had said oblivion, not the choice of words the developers would have chosen. He settled back and smiled as the sun eased out his tired bones, and he remembered.

Tia sat on the bus and sighed. She'd had so many plans. Her last school report had stated, 'Tia will do well if she applies herself.' She'd wondered many times exactly what it meant. She'd got a few GCSE's but so had everyone else. She wanted a job, didn't want to live at home for ever. Had drifted from supermarket to hairdressers and finally to Heron's Rest. The pay was rubbish and some of the 'professional' inhabitants were just downright nasty. Thought that if they could pay for their care they were a cut above everyone else. But she did like the job, felt that she was in some way making a difference and Suzy, the manager thought she had potential.

George perked up when Tia arrived with his tea. She knew just how he liked it and sorted out the Garibaldi’s she knew he liked.

'Dead flies, that's what they are.'

Her mouth dropped open and she looked suitably shocked. When he'd first told her this she had failed to see the mischievous grin and almost believed him. But now she gave him the reaction he liked and they laughed together over the joke.

'When these old wrinklies are asleep later come and sit with me and I'll tell you some of my stories.' She nodded and smiled and carried on serving tea and biscuits. George was one of the reasons she liked her job, and she loved his stories. He was a born story teller.

'Tia my dear,' he always said this with a smile in his voice and that twinkle. 'There's something very important I want to tell you today. Now are you sitting comfortably?' She nodded and then they said together, 'Then I'll begin.'

'I loved my dad, he was great at telling stories, just like me.' He winked. 'It was my eighth birthday, I was full of jelly, trifle and fly biscuits. That's the day they started to be my favourites. He sat me down on the sofa and said, there's something very important I want to tell you today.' That wink again.

'Do you believe in Father Christmas?'

'I began to laugh, 'course not. I said. That's for babies. I expected to see him look at me proudly and congratulate me on being a big boy. Instead he shook his head.

Don't ever stop believing in magic and mystery and things that might and could happen.'

George winked at Tia who looked confused.

'Just believe that the world is full of possibilities, don't give up on your dreams.'

Tia's face became one big smile as she went to help one of the other residents.