A Short story By George Watson

THE ACE OF ROSES

If a passer by took a glancing observation inside the Thames Link Post Office their immediate feeling would be to come back later that day. The queue was fairly large as the tired post office worker’s face’s reflected. The queue snaked its way past the cheap DVD sales, B Movies that were so unpopular the dust was beginning to gather. Past numerous envelopes stacked in a stand promising ‘The right size for the right document’ before breaking records as it swept past the door and out into the murky street. Ninety percent of the queue’s inhabitants were elderly, aged seventy-ish, many chattering between themselves, the un-forecasted rain being a typically popular subject for this wet Wednesday morning. The remainder would tut in a loud indiscreet manner advertising their disconsent for the time it was taking to collect their weekly cash. There was the odd spark hidden within this mass of retired pensioners. A young boy near the front stood with his mother, holding a ball that had already bounced six times, the sixth and final bounce causing it to roll away. A few places up stood Sally who was holding a thick large envelope, stamps plastered across the top as it prepared for a two thousand mile journey. Two thousand miles was in fact a very long way, but for the two young women standing seven people back from Sally two thousand miles was one tiny footstep. The pair had never set eyes upon each other before. In fact the two barely noticed they were there as they moaned to themselves abut the size of the queue and the point of being there. Ironically they had both been asked to stand in this queue; to acquire stamps for a trivial parcel which could easily have been hand delivered. But both teenagers received the same instructions, which, if you managed to attend both requests you would appreciate that the instructions were almost word for word. The first girl ahead, was young, sixteen possibly seventeen and stood with her hair back in a pony tale. Badges littered her black coat as she stood holding a shoebox sized parcel that had been over wrapped several times with black masking tape. She continued to tap her feet a few times, sigh and tut, in fact she was worse then the pensioners. Those surrounding her had already become unnerved by her moaning under her breath which was gradually growing louder and louder. The woman standing behind was again a teenager, a little older and looked much different. From her pink top, kicker trousers and loose brown hair to her pose, everything seemed dissimilar. She was holding a smaller box, with the exact amount of indelicate, badly wrapped masking tape as the other box. The pair said little at first, a brief acknowledgment that they were part of the youngest generation within the queue and when you’re being smothered from either side by a much older generation the young tend to stick together, as the old would if buried between the young. The conversation between the two really picked up when the second girl, Rose had to comment on the girl’s strange coat which had the words ‘ACE’ plastered in red on the back. “I like your coat,” Rose said. A little surprised the girl turned and smiled. “Cheers.” Rose glanced at the variety of badges that was plastered across her coat, from blue peter to ‘Ace Roofing Co’. “Yeah got it ages ago,” the girl said. “I’ m Rose,” Rose said feeling the time was right for an introduction. The queue moved forward once more. “Ace,” the first girl replied. An unusual silence soon followed, the pair had just met, exchanged names there wasn’t really much left, they were both oblivious to the fact that they had quite a few things in common, age just being one. Rose though was in a chatting mood and decided to push the conversation forward. “Sending something abroad?” “Yeah, not mine though.” “Neither is this, I was asked to send it, I don’t see why we could easily take it there ourselves.” Ace grew excited for the first time, clearly wishing to ease something from her chest. “Yeah I said the same thing, but oh no the professor wants me to send it, he says it’s good for me to go out and…,” Ace paused suddenly clearly thinking about what she was saying. “Meet people,” Ace retorted after the pause. “Oh,” Rose replied. “Professor?” “Yeah, my, friend.” “Oh,” Rose became the quietist of the pair, as Ace reached three from the top of the queue. “That’s wrapped just like mine,” Rose found herself saying. Ace chuckled. “Oh yeah, did a bloke wrap it?” “Yeah, the Doc...” This time Rose found herself thinking about the words “Doctor Smith, my uncle.” “Oh right, I know a Doctor too", Ace said. “Doesn’t happen to wear a leather jacket?” “No, a white coat, likes his question marks.” “Oh,” Rose took sigh of relief, she wasn’t sure why, the Doctor must have met other people, but he felt special to her, a selfish wish to be brutally honest. Ace stood at the front, a panic within the post office had clearly summoned up more workers and now the queue was shrinking by the minute. “Number seven,” a man’s voice said. Ace glanced back to Rose. “Nice meeting you Rose,” she said. “Yeah,” Rose replied. The ordeal of sending the parcel took just two minutes a simple weigh in, four pounds thirty and the next person was replacing her. Rose walked towards the door; her Doctor was sitting quietly beside an old man who was trying to finish off his crossword. “Twelve words, the man found himself saying for the fourth time. The Doctor couldn’t wait any longer, impatiently he moved forward. “Regeneration,” he whispered quietly in the man’s ear a strong Scottish accent clearly visible. “Ah,” the man said his eyes lighting up as he scribbled the words in. “You knew it didn’t you,” Rose said standing opposite the Doctor, her arrival had taken him by surprise. “Knew?” The Doctor said as he got up and walked through the automatic doors. “That I would stand next to Ace, and I would strike up a conversation. Is there no real person called Tegan Jovanka in Australia?” The Doctor smiled. “Believe what you want to believe Rose,” he said. Walking across the street several meters ahead was Ace; oblivious to Rose she had probably already forgotten about the conversation as she made her way home wherever home was. “What happened to her?” The Doctor paused placing his hands into his trouser pockets. The words weren’t as easy to find now. “She grew up.” “Grew up.” “Yes grew up and moved on, like we all do.” The rain had cleared the street to just a trickle of people, Rose gaze caught Ace vanish around the side of a shop; she wanted to know about the Doctor’s past, a curiosity that rose its head every now and then before burrowing its way back down. “Do you miss her?” The Doctor said nothing, his mute reply said it all. “Anyway,” the Doctor clapped his hands. “Can’t dordle around here, things to do people to see,” the Doctor strolled off ahead, Rose watched him for a moment taking in the last ten minutes of this tiny memorable experience before catching him and regretting she hadn’t opted for an umbrella.