We recognise it is a terrible tease to offer up a meagre 750 words from each story. For the majority of our writers, this is their first publishing adventure, though certainly not their first venture into the wonderful yet terrible world of fiction writing. Many of the writers here have considerable back-catalogues of stories, seen and unseen.

To support our writers – and to ease your frustration – each Sunday we will post a full length piece of writing from the featured author of the week.

This week Paul Servini takes the wheel and drives us through a young man’s regret…

Homecoming

At the third attempt Richard brought the taxi to a halt in front of the old house. It had been six years since he’d last set eyes on it, but nothing had changed. The paint looked a little drab maybe. The garden was exactly as he’d remembered it. Prim and proper.

“Got to keep up appearances, love.”

Appearances. That was all his mother had ever cared about. It had been her life’s mission to impose this mantra on the rest of her family. Her husband had put up little resistance; her daughter had even embraced this doctrine with all the zeal of a new convert. But Richard hated the very thought.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of the taxi. It was now or never, he knew that. Yesterday he’d turned back before even entering the village. This morning he’d parked several blocks away intending to walk the rest. He’d kept on walking down Chestnut Road, without turning into Pine Avenue. He leant back in the driver’s seat and closed his eyes. He could picture it all as if it was yesterday. Helen, in her long, sparkling dress. Mum applying her lipstick and trying to get him to put on something else: “… for Helen’s sake.” But what she’d really meant was for appearances sake.

“Now listen Mum, my sister couldn’t care less what I…” Those words; the warning lights flashed. He should have backed off at once. He hadn’t. The argument had escalated and he’d walked out. He hadn’t seen his family since. Not even when his father died. He saw the announcement in the newspaper, yet he didn’t do a thing. He was ashamed of that. Every Saturday the two of them had cycled to the football club together. Without fail his Dad had always accompanied him to training. Afterwards they’d go for their ritual pie and chips, then back to the ground for the afternoon match – first or second team, it didn’t really matter. One of them was always playing at home. Sometimes Dad even brought along a can of lager for him too. That would have cost dearly, had Mum found out. In return, Richard couldn’t even muster up the courage to attend Dad’s funeral.

“Now listen…” The words drummed their way around his head as Richard once more tried to find that courage he’d so sorely missed. That hadn’t been the last time they passed across his lips. That was just three days earlier. Again he knew, it was time to stop. But he’d carried on regardless and Grace had stormed out. Gone, the one person he’d ever cared for. He went to the bar and ordered a bottle of whisky. Smiley gave him a wry look.

“Not driving tomorrow, Richie?”

He’d left the bottle and ran home. He’d messed up his relationship with Grace; he couldn’t put his job at risk too. Especially now, when he was hoping to buy his own fleet. All those hours he’d spent working on his management course, the letters of encouragement which always accompanied his assignments. How could he throw all that away? Yet without Grace…

He found the letter the next morning. Grace must have brought it round herself during the night. He stared at it until the words started dancing around on the page. It just wasn’t possible. He called in sick. He was sick. Three bucketfuls of tears he cried that morning alone. How could anyone be so loving? It was then he knew what he had to do. And he wouldn’t see Grace until he’d done it.

Richard saw the front room curtain move back just a few inches. His mother had always wanted to know what was going on and the presence of a strange taxi in front of her house would inevitably cause her to come out. In a flash he was out of the taxi. It took just a few long strides to reach the front door. It opened before Richard had the chance to ring the bell. The weary, gray-haired woman his Mum had turned into stood before him. The surprise didn’t even have time to register on her face before she heard the words:

“Mum, I’m sorry!”