Heavenly Beverley : "First Impressions" - Written At The Last Minute For Our Writers' Group!

Sunday, 23 February 2020

"First Impressions" - Written At The Last Minute For Our Writers' Group!

Through my eyes, there wasn't even one redeeming feature. None. Nyet. Zilch. Forgotten, neglected, despised. There appeared to be no glimmer of hope, no spark of welcome, no aura of warmth. Just dirt and dark and damp. An almost menacing atmosphere underlying the blackness of within.

Through Michael's eyes, he saw just the opposite. A butterfly that might emerge from its chrysalis of ruin, wings filling and launching into flight. A flower bud, burnt and battered, still able to open, revealing light and colour. A castle deep in a forest of decay and gloom being discovered and windows flung wide to let in the air and the sun.

From that first moment, he was struck by a heady mix of optimism and daring. "Here, have a torch", said Helen, "and go explore." And like any other expedition leader, he stepped across the threshold into the unknown without a shred of fear.

The potential was everywhere. The space. The age. The height. The stories. Michael saw her as she could be. Would be. He had waited his whole life for her and from right then, nothing was going to thwart his dream.

I kept walking through, on multiple occasions, trying to catch a glimpse of his vision. All I could do was believe in Michael's first impressions, rather than my own. I had to take a leap of faith. I had to trust him that all would be as he enthused. To do otherwise would have been a betrayal. I was done with betrayal. And so, I believed too.

The Forbes Building has fulfilled all that she tantalisingly whispered to Michael on that far-flung day. She is that butterfly, she is that flower, she is that castle saved from collapse. And she has changed her character. How is that possible? I never would have understood the extent of her metamorphosis but for a story told to me from long ago.

The lady was in her seventies, I would have guessed. She had worked as a young woman in the tea rooms, approaching fifty or more years ago. She had stayed back one night and been offered a bed in the old residence, rather than going home in the dark. She had been almost overwhelmed by fright and dread. She couldn't say what the malevolence was, just that she was terrified. She had never remained in the building at night ever again.

I could see her hesitancy. I offered to walk her through the Forbes Building. She agreed and we set off, exploring every part that had caused her such angst. What had been Barrow and Richardson's and Dalgety's. What was now Michael's workshop had been full of partitions and corners and battered old floorboards. Into the old residence, where we lived for six months whilst we were building our house and she had slept for one awful night.

Her demeanour lifted, visibly, at the conclusion of our tour. She couldn't believe the change in the building's "feeling". There was no boogie man, no spirit, no poltergeist. She laughed with relief. That memory that had haunted her for so long could be put to bed where it belonged.

I have never seen her again since that day. But I am so pleased that our paths crossed. And the comments about our Forbes building keep coming. Welcoming, warm, friendly, inviting, bright, airy, beautiful. Which of course, she is.

And all because Michael loved her at first sight.