Steve's Books

Back in time for this story to the Upstairs, Downstairs world of England between the wars. My grandmother was a 'downstairs' who wanted to be 'upstairs' and this is one of her true stories from when she was in service. I've done little more than add the twist at the end. " Ivy is feeling restless. Not bored exactly but mischievous and frustrated at not being able to decide what form this mischief should take. She turns down the counterpane on the master's four poster bed and then spies the new gramophone sitting on the dressing table. The master is in London, the housekeeper is out for the afternoon and with those two cats away the mice will play." But when the master returns unexpectedly early to find Ivy wearing his clothes and being chauffeured across the lawn in a wheelbarrow by the under gardener... Her Master's Voice is the fourth story from the anthology  Not Just For Twisted Women  by Steve Daniels Kindle Edition now available ...

This is the first of the stories inspired by my grandmother. In this particular instance the story comes from the latter part of her life when I was a young lad and living with her, my grandfather and my great grandfather. She came back from town one day, a heavily laden string bag in each hand, and told us of an encounter she'd had on her way home. Struggling a bit with the shopping (for she was as round as she was tall and wouldn't use a shopping trolley 'because it makes me look like an old lady') she paused to take a deep breath before attempting a large flight of steps. Lounging around the base of the steps were a group of youths in full punk regalia – all tartan, safety pins and mohican haircuts). Totally unintimidated she approached the youths. “ You boys couldn't give me a hand up these stairs with my shopping, could you?” she asked, sweetly. And they did. Two of them took a bag apiece whilst another two assisted her up the stairs. They t...