•Beautifully Stained•

Chapter1

"Miss Ca-"

"You can call me Eleanor," she cut me off. "Welcome, come on in," she said as she led me to her living room. "Mr. Houston, would you like some tea?"

"I don't think that'd be-"

"If you want the information you came for, it'll take time," she cut me off, again. 

Without a thought, I accepted the offer. She had already started making tea for two as she was expecting me. If it wasn't for my curious soul, I wouldn't be here. But I need to know, this could save my job.

I, Craig Houston, am a columnist for the Southwold Daily. In a small town like Southwold, magazine columns are important. They like these little bits of fiction as bestselling books take time and a load of money to appear. 

Well, my boss hasn't been very wonderful, threatening me that I might loose my job as there have been complains that I haven't been too creative. My stories were repetitive and too modern. People wanted old school romance- not the reality. But me, I was a sucker for realistic love stories- no kissing under the big clock in the rain and instant music playing in the ears, completely forgetting that there's been a fight still left to be dealt with. I wanted to bring out fiction but in a way that people could relate to it, not give them unrealistic expectations.

Disheartened by the threats, I took a stroll round the beach. It was peaceful and lonely, thinking about how the entire weekend was gonna be like that. Lost in my thought, I stumbled in my steps. Looking down to check as there aren't many sea-urchins on the beach, I was surprised by a bottle. The bottle was vintage and the paper inside looked crumpled. That's when realisation struck- IT WAS A MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE! 

Maybe I was getting into someone's privacy but I couldn't let this go. Hastily I opened it and held the paper in my hand. The piece of parchment was a little wet but still a bit dried for staying the shore for a while I guessed. I tried to read the letter but it was messed up by the dripped down ink. I could make out a few words. At the end of the letter was my golden egg. A validation.

With all that's left in me,

Eleanor Calder

(Your El forever)

That seemed intense and I tracked down every Eleanor Calder in existence for the rest of the weekend. Three, three of them existed and two were dead. One died in France, lived there for the larger part of her life. Another died at 97 two years ago, probably her letter wouldn't resurface with any bit of readable ink. The third lived in London and I was at her place now.

She sounded so posh on the phone and admitted writing that letter but refused to talk much on the phone. I still had my doubts. But she sensed it. She sent me a postcard with some of her old pictures of when she was in Southwold. I had enough proof. She said she was willing to tell me this story only if I went down to London and met her in person, apparently it was too much for a phone call and too long for a letter. So, the next weekend, I took a train to London, showed up at her house located a little outside the city, and here we are.

"You live alone?" I asked, sipping my tea.

"Yes," she answered, not looking directly at me. "The letter," she started, "you couldn't understand anything, could you?"

"Well, thank goodness, I could read your name," I tried to lighten the mood. Didn't help, she still seemed a little in her own bubble, a gorgeous woman in her early 40s, always seemed like she was in deep thought. "Ma'am-"

"It's Eleanor," the first time she smiled. Wasn't too bright, the smile, was a little hollow but yet, somehow, hopeful. 

"Okay, Eleanor," I paused, "who did you write it too?"

The smile was there again, as if adoration took up the agony in it. "To the only man I ever loved." That's all she said.

"And he was...?"

"That's where this story starts," she quirked her eyebrows. 

"What happened?" I got how intense it must've been that she was beating round the bush for so long. 

"It was 1998, I was around eighteen years old, I went to Southwold for the first time to visit my aunt and my cousin, Liam. It was the summer before I expected to start university."

I quickly noted it down in my notebook. I didn't miss a detail but raised my eyebrow at her when she stopped.

"Craig," she called me by my first name. "I can call you that right?" she asked and I simply nodded. "What I am about to tell you doesn't involve some historic event, some whirlwind romance or an old school rivalry-leading-to-heartbreak story. It's different, it's real life. So, I hope when you write it down, you don't practicalize your mid twenties logic into it and publish it the way I tell you. If you publish it."

"I will keep it exact with a few name changes," I honestly said. I didn't know if this fit the bill of just a column but maybe, this could be the book I was dying to write all my life and the column could hold a snippet of it, like a short story, not the entire detailed one. 

"Okay, so here it goes. Please, don't interrupt me much in this," she requested. We were finally getting to it and with every word she said, I thought of it as a story.

"Liam!!" Eleanor exclaimed as she wrapped her arms round his neck. Liam was quick enough to pick her from the ground and give her a quick twirl.

"Hi cousin!" he greeted as he put her down. "Finally in Southwold!"

"Now I know why you always complained about the two hour train rides!"

"I hope there'll be airports by, I don't know, 2030," Liam joked as he helped her with her suitcases to be put into the back of his car. 

"Well, it's 1998 and we have it in London," Eleanor shrugged, "we can always hope," she joked as she got into the front passenger seat. 

Eleanor gazed out the window as Liam drove her to the Payne House. She asked him about every location on their way and he answered with patience. It was always the Paynes who visited the Calders in London as Eleanor's mum, Kim would stay too ill too travel all around the year. In this case, Liam's mum, Karen was always willing to take her family to visit her sister's every summer and also for some holidays. It was sad how Eleanor failed to visit Liam when his father passed away five years ago because she was in her school's scout camp, but her father made it to Southwold as soon as possible. 

"Does that kid still annoy you?" she asked on their way.

"Which one exactly are we talking about?" he let out a sarcastic laughter.

"The main one," I remembered. "That Tomlinson kid."

New one. Not even waiting a day. Updates might be slow though. Sorry.

Love,
Lily... <3