Second extract of Foundation… Last week’s post introduced you to the story of Keira and Liam, set in the Ireland of the Middle Ages. What will you make of this new excerpt?
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HALE – UK
Every time a new season of Desperate Housewives was released, Kathleen Wilson, her younger sister and her three closest neighbours would gather in Kathleen’s candlelit, cosy lounge on Wednesday night with a bottle of red wine to watch a few episodes together. The on-screen ladies’ adventures were often reminiscent of what was happening in their own lives; it was also fun to spot the similarities between themselves and the main characters. These evenings had become a firmly established ritual and as soon as one was over they were already looking forward to meeting again the following week.
Marcia Cross appeared on the screen and the narrator’s slow and clear voice started:
“Bree Van de Kamp had a weekly routine she had been following for years. She cleaned on Tuesdays. She paid her bills on Wednesdays. She did her laundry on Thursdays…”
Kathleen caught her sister Meredith peering at her from the cream leather armchair, a smug smile slowly forming on her face. She returned her glance with narrowed eyes, then threw her hands up and whispered:
“Ha ha ha, incredibly funny! I know, I know, Bree’s habits could be described as a copy and paste of mine…“
Meredith nodded, by then openly grinning. These rigid patterns were about to change completely though, and Kathleen would be the first to be surprised.
Kathleen and her sister were born three years apart. Meredith thought it was a lot of fun to tease her sibling about their modest age difference: She kept telling Kathleen that she unfortunately was on the verge of entering the decade where her age number would start with a four while herself was still barely in her mid-thirties. There was a definite resemblance between them but their styles could not have been more different. Despite working in the fashion world Kathleen was more on the conservative side: Tailored dresses, pencil skirts and silk blouses, well-cut trousers. High heels. No bright colours but a lot of black, brown, beige and white. Expensive jewellery. The rock chick of her younger days inside her kept screaming to be let out again but Kathleen was doing her best to ignore her alter ego. Control was all she had left to try and keep her fast unravelling life from collapsing completely.
With a face that was starting to get lines, an inescapable happening that actually made it more interesting, Meredith Ellis was the anti-thesis of her sister. Her hair was cropped very short and dyed red; her outfit of choice was old jeans teamed up with colourful tops sporting funky designs. A freelance travel writer, single but with no shortage of lovers and friends, her lifestyle suited her to perfection. She was forever off to a new country in search of some incredible adventures and had a passion for learning languages reputed to be difficult, such as Greek or Japanese. Just in time to join in with the latest Desperate Housewives series, this free spirit had recently returned from a two-month stay in Russia. There she had fallen in love with the Slavic mentality and was planning to visit again in the not too distant future.
Kathleen switched the TV off and settled against the back of the comfortable forest green couch; she loved the wide part where you could completely stretch your legs. She then grabbed the Saint-Emilion on the low table next to her; Bordeaux wines were her favourite:
“Only a drop left. No point in leaving it, is there?”
“Absolutely not.” said Johanna, getting up and taking the bottle out of Kathleen’s hands.