Antoine and Annabelle live with their mother in a village south of Paris. Antoine and Annabelle loved their Maman very much, but most of all they loved the magic chocolate cookies she baked every Sunday. They were wonderfully soft and yet crunchy, the burried chocolate would surface like a treasure and melt languidly in their mouths. The cookies never went bad and Maman would painstakingly bake as many as possible every Sunday and store it in a transparent cookie jar that was placed on the highest shelf in the kitchen. Maman would use the best ingredients and bake the cookies with love because she knew that these magic cookies would bring her children happiness now and also in the future.
Antoine and Annabelle only had the cookies on special occasions. Like when it was Antoine's birthday, or when Annabelle had been bruised by the bullies at school. When they got older, Maman would take the cookies out of the transparent cookie jar that was placed on the highest shelf in the kitchen and sell some to her neighbours. She would use the money to buy things for Antoine and Annabelle.
Antoine and Annabelle never saw the cookie jar but they knew it was there. Maman talked about the cookie jar constantly and also talked about what she might do with some cookies. Antoine and Annabelle never saw the cookie jar but they knew it was there. After all, where did all these cookies come from? They knew they could always count on the cookie jar to bring them happiness when they needed it. Maman would never begrude them cookies and always made sure she was fair to her two little children.
Clever little Annabelle soon realised that cookies were a precious commodity and tried her very best not to ask for a cookie. She didn't want to think of the day that the cookies ran out, or that Maman might stop baking them. Antoine, however, continued to stuff his pudgy face with the delicious cookies.
The day came. The day Maman decided to stop baking cookies. Maman, with her tired eyes and knowing smile, sat her quite grown up children down and said, 'I am too old to bake cookies now. There are quite a fair few cookies left, and I am leaving it all to Antoine for his use and safe-keeping". She then escorted Antoine into the kitchen and took the cookie jar off the impossibly high shelf and handed it to Antoine. She whispered to him, 'Because you need it, my love. And because Annabelle will find her cookies elsewhere'. Antoine clutched the cookie jar close to his chest and walked out of the house for the last time.
A confused Annabelle tried to wait patiently for her mother to explain all to her. When Maman finally returned from the kitchen, she asked her, 'Maman, why does Antoine get all the cookies?'. Maman looked at her with all the love one could possibly afford a little female and smiled a bright hopeful smile. 'Ppphhsh darling Annabelle! Fret not for Maman remembered to save one last cookie for you! Aren't you a lucky little girl?'.
Annabelle could stop thinking about the cookie jar. The cookie jar that she never saw and she will never get to see.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The Van DeMans
The Van DeMans by Catherine Goodard
Geoffrey Van DeMan, patriarch of the prestigious Van DeMan family, is dying. His especially doted on daughters Emily and Christie, and son Eric, are desperately anxious to receive Geoffrey's final will. Word has it that the patriarch will not hold to his past promises of dividing the family wealth equally.
The old Mrs Van DeMan thinks she is the only other person privy to the will and has started a very public compaign backing her husband's decision and consoling her bereft daughter Christie. A shame-faced Mrs Van DeMan is secretly elated that her daughters, who have stolen all of Geoffrey's love from her, will only be receiving a paltry token sum and that the bulk of the family fortune will go to her most beloved Eric and his family.
The high society family is breaking down as Emily's indifferent front is a cover for the fear of losing even her small inheritence by consorting with a man who does not meet with Geoffrey's approval. If only Geoffrey could die before she is exposed.
Meanwhile, Eric is keeping the biggest secret yet. His perfect family is a scam - paid actors hired to maintain the the happy facade expected by society and his family. Eric struggles to come to terms with his sexual impotency and the fact that the honoured Van DeMan name will die with him.
The day the will is read changes the lives of the Van DeMan children forever.
Avon Books, 2007
AUD $20.99NZ $23.99
Geoffrey Van DeMan, patriarch of the prestigious Van DeMan family, is dying. His especially doted on daughters Emily and Christie, and son Eric, are desperately anxious to receive Geoffrey's final will. Word has it that the patriarch will not hold to his past promises of dividing the family wealth equally.
The old Mrs Van DeMan thinks she is the only other person privy to the will and has started a very public compaign backing her husband's decision and consoling her bereft daughter Christie. A shame-faced Mrs Van DeMan is secretly elated that her daughters, who have stolen all of Geoffrey's love from her, will only be receiving a paltry token sum and that the bulk of the family fortune will go to her most beloved Eric and his family.
The high society family is breaking down as Emily's indifferent front is a cover for the fear of losing even her small inheritence by consorting with a man who does not meet with Geoffrey's approval. If only Geoffrey could die before she is exposed.
Meanwhile, Eric is keeping the biggest secret yet. His perfect family is a scam - paid actors hired to maintain the the happy facade expected by society and his family. Eric struggles to come to terms with his sexual impotency and the fact that the honoured Van DeMan name will die with him.
The day the will is read changes the lives of the Van DeMan children forever.
Avon Books, 2007
AUD $20.99NZ $23.99
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Enigma
You.
You are an enigma. Scientists should study you.
You go to work in the morning and when you don't understand what your boss is saying in the meeting, you burst into tears and leave.
You devote your whole life to cancer research and sepnd all your free time helping kids with cancer and their families to cope. You burst into tears when you are scratched by you neighbour's cat.
You complanin that being indoors is warm but humid and the outdoors is dry but cold. You whinge as though someone will and someone can make the outdoors warm and dry.
You are so sensitive. When your friends are down, you're always there to give hugs.
You are so sensitive, fatally wounded when someone asks you about your bad hair day.
You travel halfway across the world to be independent and then sulk like a baby when your loved ones are not there at your beck and call.
You go on and on about how much you love your fiance and how his actions tell you he adores you. Never fails to make your audience vomit. (And, while a small part of me is envious of your impossibly perfect relationship, I know that no one who is truly content and secure will go on and on about the mutual undying love between them and their partners).
You are an enigma. Scientists should study you.
You are a damn annoying cunt.
You are an enigma. Scientists should study you.
You go to work in the morning and when you don't understand what your boss is saying in the meeting, you burst into tears and leave.
You devote your whole life to cancer research and sepnd all your free time helping kids with cancer and their families to cope. You burst into tears when you are scratched by you neighbour's cat.
You complanin that being indoors is warm but humid and the outdoors is dry but cold. You whinge as though someone will and someone can make the outdoors warm and dry.
You are so sensitive. When your friends are down, you're always there to give hugs.
You are so sensitive, fatally wounded when someone asks you about your bad hair day.
You travel halfway across the world to be independent and then sulk like a baby when your loved ones are not there at your beck and call.
You go on and on about how much you love your fiance and how his actions tell you he adores you. Never fails to make your audience vomit. (And, while a small part of me is envious of your impossibly perfect relationship, I know that no one who is truly content and secure will go on and on about the mutual undying love between them and their partners).
You are an enigma. Scientists should study you.
You are a damn annoying cunt.
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