The hole in the wall – A2/B1

Joanna Paresi was the last one left – the last living person in a family who had been market traders for hundreds of years. She was born in a village at the bottom of high mountains, and she had lived there all her life. At the top of the mountains, the stone fruit grew. In autumn, the fruit fell down the mountains. Most of the stone fruit got lost and no one could find them again. But some fruit fell into a small valley. Joanna's family were the only people who knew about the valley.

When the stone fruit fell from the trees, they were black and hard. It took four long months for them to become ripe. They turned from black to grey and, finally, to silver. Then people could enjoy the sweet, sun-coloured fruit inside. 

When it was ripe, the stone fruit was delicious. It was the most popular food in the region. On market day, people got up early and queued for hours to buy it. Joanna's family always had more fruit to sell than anyone else. Her family had made a lot of money by selling the fruit over the years. But they were not as rich as the market sellers who sold their products far away in the capital city. 

When Joanna was a child, she asked her mother, 'Why don't we go to the capital city to sell the fruit? That's where the most important market in the country is.' Her mother told her that someone had tried once, and they had failed. But she didn't say any more. 

As the years passed, Joanna dreamed of selling stone fruit at the market in the capital. The spring after her mother died, she decided to go. It would take four long months to walk to the capital city. It was exactly how long it took the fruit to become ripe. It would be difficult … but it was possible.

When the people in the city tried stone fruit for the first time, they would love it. And, best of all, they would pay a lot. She would earn more money than ever before. 

*****

Joanna walked all the way to the capital city. She pushed a wooden cart full of stone fruit. She carried with her a beautiful wooden market stall. The stall had belonged to her mother, and before that to Joanna's grandmother. On this stall, she would sell her fruit. When she finally arrived at the city, she was very tired after months on the road. But the stone fruit were almost ripe. So far, her plan was working.

Of course, there was a tax to enter the city gates. And there were market fees to pay. Plus, it wasn't easy to sell strange, new foods like hers at the market. The fruit had to be tested to prove it was safe to eat. The tests were not cheap and they took days to do.

Joanna spent all her money on the tests. And she also needed a place to sleep while she waited. She really needed money, so she sold her beautiful family stall. She didn't want to do it, but she had no choice. After she sold the fruit, she could buy the stall back.

Finally, the tests were finished and she was allowed to sell her fruit. She used the last of her money to rent a cheap, ordinary stall. But by now the perfect, silver stone fruit had turned white and lost their sweet flavour. 

No customers wanted to buy her overripe fruits from her boring stall. They were starting to look and smell bad. In the end, she sold all the stone fruit to a farmer to feed his pigs. He bought her cart too, and paid her much less than its value.

She had lost everything.

Joanna left the market in defeat. She walked through the city streets. There were shops of every kind. In one she saw the beautiful stall that her mother had given her. But she had no money to buy it back.

Tears ran down her face, and she walked until she was lost in the city streets. At last, she lay down in a corner and fell asleep.

*****

When Joanna woke again, it was dark. But there was something even darker on the wall opposite her. It was a hole in the wall.

It wasn't a door, because it didn't reach the ground. It wasn't a window either. This was just a hole in the wall. It had … nothing. Just like her.

Joanna felt so angry – with the market and with herself. She pulled off one of her boots. It was full of holes from her long journey. She threw it across the street at the hole.

It disappeared into the hole, but there was no sound as it landed. The boot was gone. It was just one more thing that she had lost by being stupid. Tired and sad, she closed her eyes on the world. But then she heard a sound.

She opened her eyes again.

There was something shiny on the ground. It was a coin – a single penny. It was enough to buy a meal. It was definitely worth more than her old boot.

It must be a joke, she thought. She waited for someone to come out and start laughing at her. But nothing happened. She pulled off her other boot and threw it after the first. She saw it fly through the hole into nothing. But this time she saw another coin fly back out, then a second and a third.

Joanna picked up the nearest coin. She held it close to her face … It was real!

She picked up the other coins: three pennies. She could buy new boots now. 

She took off her belt and threw it at the hole. In it went – and more coins flew back out. She picked those up too and counted them: ten pennies. Enough for new boots and a simple belt!

Excited, she quickly took off her travelling coat, her jacket and both socks. She threw each one into the hole. 

When the sound of metal falling on the ground ended, she had a small pile of coins. She counted them, over and over, through the rest of the night.

When morning came, the hole in the wall had disappeared. Perhaps she had lost her mind as well as her fruit, her cart and her mother's stall. 

Fine. She didn't care. She had thirty-eight pennies.

And if you're a good trader, all you need is somewhere to start.

*****

Joanna was now a very unusual trader. She had no shoes, socks or coat. She went from shop to shop. With her pile of pennies, she bought:

a large bag;

a long shirt;

a pair of broken wooden shoes;

all the old, broken or useless things the other traders would sell her. 

When she had spent all her money, Joanna returned to the street where she had spent the night. All day she sat there, looking at the empty wall opposite. People walked past her. Some felt sorry for her. Others wondered what she was doing. But most people didn't pay her any attention. 

*****

In the middle of the night, the hole in the wall appeared again. Joanna was happy that she hadn't imagined it.

She opened the empty bag in front of the hole. Then, one by one, she threw things into the hole. Even the wooden shoes went in. The only thing she didn't throw in was the bag. When the sun rose in the morning, the bag was full and heavy with coins.

*****

Joanna bought new clothes with the money: a good hat, shirt and trousers, boots to take her home, a thick coat for winter in the mountains, and a new, bigger bag. She had enough money left to do some shopping at the market too. She bought silk carpets, fine wool, bags of spices and more. 

After a busy day, she returned to one, special shop. There she bought back her mother's stall. And then she went back to her lucky street with all the beautiful things she had bought at the market. 

She sat down for one last night, waiting for the hole.

When the hole appeared again, she started throwing the spices into it. Then she threw the wool and silk and the other things. Silver and gold coins flew out of the hole into the bag. Soon her bag was filled with more money than she had ever known. For a moment, she thought about throwing her family stall into the hole as well. But then she had a better idea. 

The hole had always given her more than the value of the things she threw into it. So what about the gold and silver coins? What would the hole give her if she threw all the money in? 

What could be worth more than all the money she had?

Maybe she would never have to sell stone fruit again! Joanna lifted the heavy bag of coins. She began to move the bag backwards and forwards, faster and faster … and then she threw it.

Five coins came out of the bag and fell by Joanna's feet. The others flew into the hole.

Joanna waited and watched the hole. But this time, nothing came back.

*****

There was a tax to leave the city. Joanna's last five coins were just enough to pay it.

She walked out in her good boots and new clothes. On her back, she carried her mother's stall. She walked all day and she slept well at night. She was happy to be going home. As she got further and further away from the capital, she could see the mountains of home. They looked more beautiful than ever.

Her pockets were empty, but her heart was full.

Sometimes she met other travellers on the road. When she saw them coming, she put up her beautiful, family stall. The only thing she had to sell was her story. She only asked people to pay a penny or two to hear her story. If they didn't have any money, she asked for some food or drink. No one believed her story was true, but they believed the lessons her story contained. Everyone who heard the story learned a different lesson. For some people, the lesson was 'be happy with what you have' or 'if you want more than you need, you will lose everything.' For others, it was 'wisdom has a high price.'

For Joanna, the last trader in her family, the lesson was different. It was the answer to her question: What could be worth more than all the money she had? Now she knew the answer was wisdom. 

 

Story written by Andrew Leon Hudson and adapted by Nicola Prentis.

The green wars – A2/B1

 

Plan 1: Guerrilla gardening

The time is what the army call 'oh-three-hundred-hours' – three o'clock in the morning. We're in the car park of the sports centre. It's empty except for me and my best friend, Janey and an old truck. It belongs to the company that put grass on the town football pitch last week.

'What are we doing here?' I ask.

'Here's the plan,' says Janey. 'First, we take that truck ...'

'I'm going home,' I say. 'Good night.'

'Then, we drive to the Town Hall. And then we use the grass in the truck to cover the high street from top to bottom. Like one great big garden. Are you ready?'

I think about it for a moment. Then I smile.

'OK,' I say. 'Let's go.'

...

Our new green high street is beautiful. But we don't have time to enjoy it. The judge says we committed a crime. She gives me 150 hours of community service. Janey gets 300 hours because it was her idea.

I do my hours and return to my studies. Janey spends her time planning how we're going to do our guerrilla gardening better in future. We want to make the whole town green. Janey's ideas will probably put us both in prison. But someone has to help the planet.

Plan 2: The bamboo forest

Every September, our town has a festival. Crowds of happy people eat hotdogs and wave little flags. Then everyone goes to the park on the edge of town. The mayor gives a speech, and everyone has fun. 

I should be at home packing my bags to go and study engineering at university. But, as soon as everyone has gone to the park, Janey picks me up in another 'borrowed' truck. This one is full of soil.

'Get in,' she says. 'There's enough soil to cover the high street from Baker's Street to Humber Road, right past the new shopping centre. I've mixed it with bamboo seeds. It's a kind of seed that grows really, really fast. Before the festival is over, there will be a mini forest in front of the supermarket. No one will be able to get in or out of that street. It really does grow that fast. What do you think?'

Well … why not? I'll be at university next week anyway. 'Let's do it.'

...

Janey was right, bamboo grows fast. It was as high as your knees before anyone discovered what we had done. By the time the council found someone to cut it down, our bamboo forest was taller than the mayor.

It was great, but they took it away. After what we did last year, they knew it was us. Plus, Janey had bought the bamboo online with her bank card, so it was definitely her. This time, she got six months in prison.

She didn't tell them I had helped her, so I still went to university. But I changed my degree to Agriculture and Wildlife. I wanted to learn all about plants, gardening and farming. I thought it would help Janey and me succeed as guerrilla gardeners.

Plan 3: The vertical farm

I'm wearing my new business suit. My presentation is ready, and there's a small plastic model of my idea on the table. On the other side of the table, my three heads of department are waiting to see my final university project – the vertical farm.

We've seen what happens when we do what Janey says. Now it's my turn.

'Good morning,' I say. 'During my studies I've learned a lot about city farming. After university, I want to do something with what I've learned.'

I show them the model. 'This is the high street of my town. This is our shopping centre, and this is an old, nine-floor car park. No one has used it for the last two years and it's now for sale.'

I start the presentation. They can see my designs on the big screen while I talk.

'I've designed a city farm using the carpark building. There will be eight floors to farm fruit and vegetables. This design will collect rainwater to water the soil. And we will use energy from the sun to power the special growing lights.'

The presentation changes to show the maths of how the farm will make money.

'I will rent the space to small local farmers. We will sell everything in local shops to be as good for the environment as possible. Also, the ninth floor will be for any local people who want to grow their own food.'

My audience looks interested, but I haven't finished yet.

'To prove the project can work, I've talked to local people and farmers. I've received letters of support and interest from all sides. I also gave this presentation to my bank manager. The bank will give me money, - if I can convince the town council to sell me the site.'

I turn off the presentation. 'Are there any questions?'

...

My project gets the highest marks in my class. But in the real world that doesn't matter. 

The town council didn't accept my plan. Instead, they decided to sell the site to a company who will destroy the car park and build a block of luxury apartments. The mayor says they will bring new energy to the town. So that's the end of the vertical farm.

Janey kept getting in trouble while I was away. But she was out of prison when I came back, so I met her for a drink. 

'You should never have changed from my way of doing things,' she tells me. 'Nothing sends our message better than covering streets with grass, trees and plants.' 

Her latest trip to prison was for doing exactly that, again. But I have just finished university and my future looks good. 

Do you think I was clever enough not to listen to her?

Plan 4: Guerrilla gardening 2.0

This time, I agreed to do part of what Janey wanted. 

We drive around town to search for the perfect location. Not in front of the Town Hall or the shopping centre. They are the kinds of places Janey thinks will send the biggest message. But I don't think these are the best places to choose.

I'm looking for something different. Somewhere that's not in the town centre. Not the best neighbourhood, but a poor one. One that never gets any public money. One where the road is full of holes and the pavement is all broken. I'm looking for somewhere where people don't have cars outside their houses.

We find the perfect place.

One night, we arrive in another 'borrowed' truck. We carefully fill the whole street with soil from one pavement to the other. It's just like Janey's old plans, but this time we plant vegetable gardens in front of every house. We post letters through people's doors with gardening instructions, so the new lucky owners will know what to do. The letters also mention how much money you can save if you grow your own food – you'd be surprised.

In the same neighbourhood, we put grass over those broken old pavements for the kids to play on. Finally, we put up a sign that says, 'Please Walk on the Grass'.

When we've finished, we're both covered in soil and completely exhausted. But Janey puts an arm around my shoulders and smiles. 

'Not a bad plan, for you,' she says. 'You're learning!'

...

The people from the town council are extremely angry, of course. They send workers to the street to take it all away. But the people who live there join their arms together to protect their new gardens. Can you believe it? 

Just as I hoped, the people in this neighbourhood like what we've done to their street!

Later that day, the mayor goes to the area to explain that what we did is a crime. He isn't very pleased when a local TV reporter arrives. 

The reporter asks him, 'The town council hasn't spent any money on this street for 20 years! Now someone else has come and improved it! Why don't you want it to be a place for growing food? Why can't it be a place for children to play and learn?'

It was the main story on the national evening news, and the whole town was delighted. Well, everyone apart from the mayor, of course.

The night after that, Janey and I do it again, but this time we work fast and hard. We just leave big piles of soil, seeds and instructions on as many streets as we can.

People get the idea now, and we can't do all the work ourselves.

We manage three more nights of that before the police catch us.

Plan 5: The right place to fight

So here I am, in prison.

It could be worse. The plan was mainly my idea, but I don't have to stay here too long. That's because it's my first time in prison. Or it's my first time as an adult, at least. But Janey has been in prison many times now, so she gets longer. When I get out of prison, she will still have two years left. She doesn't mind too much. She's happy that 'Guerrilla Gardening 2.0' was successful.

We're in separate buildings in prison, but we both work on the prison farm. I start teaching Janey some of what I learned at university. Soon she has learned everything I can teach her. 

When it's time for me to get out of prison, we say goodbye.

Janey says, 'Don't worry. I'll look after the farm. When you get sent back here for your next green crime, it'll be waiting for you!'

But my next plan does not include returning to prison.

...

Do you remember those piles of soil we left in streets all over town? Half of them are vegetable gardens now. The council doesn't like it, but we chose our locations well. The people that live there are really happy. And politicians don't want to take away gardens from happy people. If they do that, people will remember at election time. 

One thing I've learned is this: 

If you want to win the battle, choose the right place to fight.

The old mayor is retiring this year, you see. So the next time I try to re-green my town, I'll enter the election for the job of town mayor.

Last year I was a guerrilla gardener. 

Next year I'll be the mayor. And our town will be the greenest place in the country.

Story written by Andrew Leon Hudson and adapted by Nicola Prentis.

The devil's in the details – A2/B1

 

Someone knocked at her door just as Victoria was about to leave her flat. It was strange because she hadn't heard the lift or anyone on the stairs. She quickly tried to put on her other shoe and nearly fell over. There were many unopened letters – probably asking for money – on the floor. She was late to work for the third time this month and now she had a visitor. Great, she thought.

She opened the door and tried to smile in a way that would say 'I'd love to talk, but sorry I can't!'

'And how are you today, Victoria?' the man at her door asked. 'Good, I hope! If not, I bring you an eternity of warmth and best wishes from the wonderful director of my company.'

Victoria's smile disappeared. How did he know her name? 

'You know how I can be so sure?' he asked. 'I am the wonderful director of my company!'

'I'm sorry,' said Victoria. 'I really have to go. I'm late for work.' 

'Time!' He sounded sad. 'That's what they all want. Time or happiness, which one would you like more of?'

'Listen, really,' said Victoria, 'I'm not interested, sorry.' 

'We've got a special offer on,' he replied. 'Twenty-five years of extra life in exchange for eternity. Or,' he smiled, 'double your happiness for the same price.'

'Price?' she repeated, confused.

'There are no hidden charges. We take everything you have – forever.'

Victoria thought it was strange that he was wasting time on such a stupid joke. 'Then I want fifty extra years or four times more happiness,' she joked back.

'Oh, you could,' he said. 'But I have to tell you, the quality of the years goes down after twenty-five. I recommend choosing happiness.'

He pushed the lift button for her. Of course, it was obvious that she was going down because it was morning and she was dressed for work. OK, so her smart bag only had sandwiches in, not important papers, and her suit was second-hand. One day, she'd think of a job she was good at and that paid well. 

Sometimes Victoria felt as if her sister was the only lucky one in the family. Charlotte had her own prize-winning company and she was married to the handsome and funny Peter. The only thing wrong with Peter was that he didn't have a twin for Victoria to marry! Even the way Charlotte met Peter sounded like a film. After a lot of bad luck, Charlotte was in a car accident. At first, the doctors said she would never walk again but then, a new doctor, Peter, started work at the hospital. With Peter's help, Charlotte was walking again in just a few weeks. Even he joked that no one had known he was such a good doctor before he met Charlotte. He asked her to marry him two months later. Half a year after the accident, Charlotte started her company and now they lived in the most expensive part of London. Victoria was happy for her sister, of course, and she loved visiting their house and seeing their beautiful children, Gabriella and Angela. But sometimes it made her feel bad that she didn't have any good luck for herself.

Remembering Charlotte's accident made her think. It was impossible to know what might happen in the future. 'But what if I get killed by a bus tomorrow?'

'Then your perfect life will only last one day. Time or happiness, I can only offer one. I can't do miracles. Another company does those.' 

'Well, maybe you should change jobs,' she said and pressed the lift button herself.  

'No,' he said. 'I've tried working for them. Their sales team makes a very different offer: Have a hard life now, then be happy for eternity. Some customers like the idea but, honestly, it's much harder to sell it.'

The lift wasn't even moving so she turned towards the stairs. She was going to be so, so late to work. But, as she started down the stairs, she suddenly remembered something.

'Oh no!' she said. 'Gabriella and Angela!' Her little nieces' birthday presents were still sitting on the kitchen table. There wasn't time to go back and get them now. 

'It's time you want, isn't it, Victoria? I always know,' he called after her.

'I don't believe these stupid things you're saying and I don't have time to talk to you!'

She stopped talking because she realised she was admitting that she needed more time. Then she screamed as he slid down the banister and suddenly appeared in front of her, floating in the air with his arms and legs crossed.

'Aha!' he said. 'You want happiness instead!' 

Victoria moved backwards and put her hand against the wall so she wouldn't fall. Now she knew who the strange man was.

'I'm happy enough, thanks,' she said, starting to run down the stairs. 

'Are you happy, Victoria?' he asked as he continued to slide down the banister with her. 'Of course, your job is not bad. You don't mind that the pay is low and your boss hates you because you're always late. I'm sure you'll find the money to pay your rent, just like you usually do.'

'You can't know that!' she shouted. 'Anyway, money doesn't buy happiness!'

'True, Victoria, true. It's love that makes the world go round.'

'Exactly!' she said. Five more floors to go. 

'I'm sure one day you'll meet someone ...' he said.

'I don't need a man to be happy, so if that's all you're offering ...'

'You're so clever, Victoria,' he continued. 'So few people understand that happiness comes from inside us, not from things we can buy or from other people. I see that you're cleverer than many of our customers. Twenty-five years extra then. I can see it in you, Victoria. You won't waste them.'

'But twenty-five more than what?'

'No, no, no.' He turned the last corner with her. 'I won't tell you how long your life is. We've tried it with customers and it doesn't work. When people know how long they are going to live, they don't enjoy their lives.'

'I don't believe in any of this. Or in you!'

He jumped off the banister and held up something small and white.

'Your sister didn't believe it either,' he said. 'Not until she had her accident. Here's my card if you change your mind.'

And he disappeared. Victoria was alone on the stairs, her mouth open in shock.

 

Nicola Prentis

Love me, love me not A2/B1

 

Kate looked around the room at the other people: ten men and ten women all around the same age. 

'Thank you for coming today and offering your time to help with our research! Limeren, the medicine we're testing, is in the final stage of testing. Previous human trials have shown us that Limeren is completely safe ...'

Kate stopped paying attention. She'd read the information the medical research company had sent her, so she knew that Limeren had already been approved for sale and that they were not testing to see if there were side effects. She didn't know any of the other people in the group. She guessed that none of them had jobs either or they wouldn't be earning money by testing medicine. But otherwise it was impossible to know if she had anything in common with any of them. She hoped so, or four days in the research centre would feel like a very long time.

'... as side effects, we know that some people experience stronger emotions and a feeling of general happiness,' the head researcher said. 'We'll be interviewing each of you and doing tests during the day and night. So if you can all sign the forms, we can start.'

Kate signed her form without reading the information. Hopefully, this was going to be a very easy way to make money. 

'I hope the food's better than last time,' said the guy sitting next to her as he gave in his form. 

Kate smiled. 

'I'm Michael.' 

'Kate,' she said. 'Have you been here before?'

'I do these trials as often as they'll let me!' He laughed. 'It's such an easy way to make money!' 

She smiled back. Here was someone she had something in common with.

...

A few hours later, Kate was eating dinner. She had taken her second Limeren tablet before dinner. She was feeling really relaxed. Maybe it was the vitamins, or maybe it was just because she had so much free time and there was nothing she needed to do. There were books to read, films to watch and even board games and puzzles. At home, she had to send out job applications. Or she had to go to stressful job interviews. After more than twenty applications she still didn't have a job. 

She looked up and saw Michael smiling at her. 'Do you want to play a board game?' he asked. His eyes were really dark brown, Kate thought. She hadn't noticed that earlier. She felt her cheeks go red. 'Sure,' she replied. 'But I like to win,' she warned. 

'Perfect,' he said. 'Me too!' 

Was it her imagination or did his cheeks look a bit pink too? 

...

For the next two days, Kate and Michael spent hours and hours playing games, chatting and watching films. 

'I feel as if I've known you for months, not days,' she said. She already knew he lived nearby, that he was a student studying for his PhD and that he had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled and a cute way of putting a pen behind his ear when he was reading. She wasn't sure, but she thought he was trying to sit next to her for meals and spend time with her whenever he could. Or maybe she was the one who was always looking for him.

'So, do you think you're feeling any side effects?' he asked her one evening. They were sitting on the sofa, watching a film. Michael's knee was almost touching her leg, and if his hand moved just a little, it would be touching hers. Her heart beat faster and all she could think about was being near enough for his skin to touch hers. Her face was red again, she knew it.

'Any what?' she asked, trying to concentrate on their conversation instead. 

'The side effects of Limeren that they told us about at the presentation,' he said, moving his hand away. Her skin immediately felt cold, as if his hand had been making the air between them warm. 

'Oh, I wasn't really listening,' she said. 'We still get paid anyway, don't we?'

And then he did it. He moved his hand so that it covered hers. A nice feeling travelled all the way through her fingers and across her skin. She turned her hand over and held his hand. He smiled and moved his face towards hers.

'Can everyone come and get their next Limeren, please?' called a nurse. Michael dropped her hand and followed the rest of the group to the nurse's room. Kate couldn't remember ever feeling so happy.

...

'Thank you everyone for taking part. You're now free to go,' the head researcher said the next morning as the trial ended. 'Any side effects will disappear over the next few days. If you have felt any strong feelings, and happiness, those feelings will decrease. Fortunately, we don't expect anyone to become depressed. However, we will keep in touch with all of you in the next few days to make sure everything is fine.'

'We can have our first date now,' Michael said to Kate. 'Breakfast?'

Over breakfast, they talked and talked. Kate knew she was in love. It was stupid, but it was true. Michael said it first. 

'I can't believe I met you. I've never felt like this about anyone before.'

'This does feel amazing,' Kate said. But she had been worried about something since the beginning of the trial. She hadn't wanted to think about it but now she had to ask him a serious question.

'You don't think …?'

'What?'

'What if it's the Limeren making us feel like this? What was it he said about strong feelings?' 

'There's only one way to find out!' he said. 'If you don't want to be my girlfriend any more after a few days, we'll know it was just the Limeren.'

She smiled at the word 'girlfriend.' 'Maybe your side effects will go away first!' 

'Maybe!' He laughed. 'But I don't think so. This feels real to me.'

'Me too,' she said. 

...

Four months later

A few months later, Kate was thinking about the beginning of their relationship. She had to admit, nothing could ever be as perfect as those first days together. Real life had to start again. She got a job a few days after the trial ended. Michael went back to the library and his books and research projects. She didn't have to worry about money any more but they could no longer spend all day, every day together. They were no longer at that exciting stage of falling in love. But they saw each other when they could and they met each other's parents. Everyone expected them to get married. When he finally asked her to marry him, she felt that old excitement again.

...

Three years later

'I really don't have time for this!' Kate shouted. She hated doing the weekly shopping. Why couldn't he do it? 

'Fine, I'll go then,' she said, closing the door hard so that it made a loud noise.

Kate felt as if these kinds of arguments were happening more often. As she walked around the supermarket, she thought about how they'd been before, when they were in love. 'Can it ever feel like that again?' she wondered. 

Walking into the health section, she recognised a word on a box of medicine. Limeren. The vitamin's name reminded her of a special time, a time when she was really crazy about Michael. She picked up a box and put it in her basket. 

...

When she got home, Michael was already in bed so she ate dinner alone, taking her Limeren with a big glass of water. The next morning, she woke up early as usual, but instead of jumping straight in the shower, she joined Michael downstairs for breakfast.  

'Good morning!' she said. To her surprise, she suddenly wanted to kiss him on the cheek. So she did, and sat down next to him at the table. He was eating in front of a big pile of books, looking cute with a pen behind his ear. 'What are you doing?'

'I'm applying for money for my next research project,' he said. 

'Oh, good luck! What's the project about?' 

After breakfast, she thought how nice it had been to see him talking about something he cared about. She'd forgotten how cute his dimples were when he smiled, she thought. Or maybe she hadn't seen him smile much recently. Anyway, she decided to have breakfast with him every day, since it had been such a lovely start to the day. It couldn't hurt to make a bit more effort, could it?

...

Two years later

The baby hadn't stopped crying for two hours, but now her little face was peaceful as she slept. Kate felt annoyed. Where was Michael? She went downstairs and found him filling bottles with milk for the baby.

'Well done!' Michael said. 'That didn't sound easy.' 

'No!' she said angrily. 'It isn't!'  

'You're doing an amazing job,' he said. 'OK, so, I've washed all the clothes, made your lunch for later and I'm going to come home early this afternoon so that you can have some time for yourself.' 

Kate managed to smile and say thank you. He really was being very sweet, even if she was too tired to feel grateful or to be nice back. As soon as he had left for work, she picked up the box of Limeren. By the time he came home, Kate felt able to smile back when he smiled at her. 

 

One year later

Kate was putting clothes away while the baby slept. She picked up one of Michael's favourite jumpers and held the soft material next to her cheek. She missed him and he had only been out an hour. Putting it back, she noticed something hard under the rest of the jumpers in the drawer. It was boxes and boxes of Limeren. 

They weren't hers! She was shocked to see these boxes. She took Limeren every day, it was true, but Michael? She thought of Limeren as an easy way to those feelings she'd always had for Michael. And it was working. Every day she felt madly in love with her wonderful husband. Everyone said marriage was hard work, but she just didn't have time or energy for the job of marriage as well as her part-time job and a young baby. When she took Limeren, she made more effort to do small things that made their life together enjoyable. If he did something nice for her, she said thank you, but most of all she actually felt grateful. If he wore a new shirt or his hair looked good, she told him he was handsome. She asked him about his day and remembered things that were important to him. She'd seen nothing wrong with doing this. Until now, that is. Now she knew why he had always been so good at doing those same things for her. It was all fake!

Instead of smiling at Michael when he got home, she was angry. Clearly the Limeren only had a limited ability to make everything perfect because nothing felt perfect right now.

'What are all these?' she asked. She pointed to the Limeren packets she'd taken from the drawer and put on the kitchen table. 

Michael moved closer and tried to read the small writing on the boxes. 'They're vitamins, aren't they?'

'Don't act as if you've got no idea why I'm asking!' said Kate, even more angry. 'These boxes,' she said, picking one of the packets up, 'are our relationship.'

'Oh!' he said. 'It's Limeren!' 

'Yes, it's Limeren,' she said. 'I know exactly what they are.'

He looked confused. 'So why are you asking me what they are? I remember the name now you've said – from the place we met, right? – but I've not taken those for years.'

'What?' 

'I just ... I don't know. It's better to get vitamins from fruit and vegetables, isn't it?' he said. 'The research company sent us boxes and boxes of them years ago, but I put them away somewhere and forgot to throw them away. We eat a healthy enough diet so there's no need to take vitamins.'

'What about ...' She felt her voice getting louder and louder, but also something made her feel less sure about the words she planned to say. Her idea sounded stupid. 'What about the falling in love part? The side effects! You're always so wonderful, the perfect husband. And now I know why!'

'Er ... thanks?' He laughed. 'I know they told us there were some side effects, but we were just joking when we said we fell in love because of the medicine, weren't we? Also,' he added, turning the box over in his hands, 'they must have changed the ingredients or something because it doesn't say anything on the box about side effects. See?' He held it out for her to look. 'Maybe they changed the recipe after we did that trial. Who knows?'

He gave her a big hug. 'This perfect husband is all natural, don't worry.'

He went upstairs to kiss the baby and then she heard him in the kitchen as he started to make dinner. She looked carefully at the boxes and it was true. There was nothing on the box about side effects, or even on the information inside. They were just vitamins after all. Limeren wasn't an easy way to love and it never had been.

Nicola Prentis

Frank's last case A2/B1

 

Sergeant Frank Spike sat behind his desk and looked out of the window. Outside, cars moved slowly in the cold, grey rain. He looked down at the grey hairs on his arms. His round stomach pushed against the desk. This was his final month before he retired from the police. For Frank, his last day couldn't come too soon. 

Frank felt angry as he thought about the money he would get when he retired. It wasn't enough money to pay for a short holiday on the cold and rainy east coast of England where he lived. It certainly wouldn't pay for his dream holiday – a luxury, round-the-world cruise.

Just then, Inspector Spencer came to Frank's desk. Spencer had perfect white teeth and he was always smiling. Three years earlier, Spencer had been promoted. Now he was an inspector at the young age of forty. Frank wasn't so lucky. He had worked for the police for forty years and he was still a sergeant. Frank knew he wasn't as handsome or as friendly as Spencer, sorry, Inspector Spencer. But Frank was a better policeman. Frank had 'a nose for crime' and Spencer didn't. That 'nose' meant Frank could think like a criminal and solve the most difficult crimes. As a result, the younger man often asked for Frank's help. In fact, it was the only time Spencer spoke to him.

'Hey, Frank, can I ask you something?' asked Spencer.

Frank wasn't surprised. 

'Do you know who the Babbingtons are?' Spencer continued.

Everyone knew who the Babbingtons were. Ronald Babbington was the super-rich owner of Babbington Oil, and his wife Tabitha was a model. Together they loved showing how rich they were. They often appeared in magazines like Hello!, with their beautiful house and their collection of cars. Last month, Ronald had bought an enormous diamond for Tabitha. The diamond sat in a large gold and glass case at the end of a long, red carpet. There was an alarm system to keep it safe.

Spencer continued to explain. 

'Someone told us about a plan to steal the Babbington diamond!'

Frank tried to look as though he was surprised.

'Peggy, the owner of the Dog and Duck pub, heard two local criminals making the plan,' Spencer said. 'She asked us to keep her name secret, of course.'

'OK,' Frank said. He waited for the question he knew would come.

'So?' Spencer asked. 'What should we do? They haven't committed a crime yet.' 

Frank looked out of the window. He remembered his retirement money. He didn't want to be alone in his retirement, but the money wouldn't even be enough to buy a cat.

The sound of a car outside brought him back to the conversation with Spencer. He put his fingers together under his chin to look as if he was thinking. In fact, he was, but not in the way Inspector Spencer expected.

'Listen, do this the clever way,' said Frank. 'Let them steal the diamond. If you catch them with the diamond, you can arrest them, no problem.'

'But, Frank,' said Spencer, 'we would need the Babbingtons to agree. And there are laws against trying to trick criminals like that, you know!' 

'That's why you let them steal the diamond. Then, as if by chance, you stop them for driving too fast as they escape. Search the car and find the diamond. You don't need to tell anyone that we knew about their plan. And they'll go to prison.' 

'Hmmmm. OK.' Spencer was uncomfortable with the idea Frank was suggesting. But he knew it would work. 

Frank continued, 'Of course, the officer who arrests them needs to be reliable.'

Spencer understood immediately. 

'Are you sure you want to do it, Frank? It could be dangerous.'

'I'll take two young officers with me. But, yes, of course I want to do it.'

'Why?' asked Spencer. 'You're going to retire soon! Don't you want to take it easy?'

'That's exactly why I want to do it,' Frank replied. 'My last case will be my best!'

*****

A few days later, Frank visited the Dog and Duck pub after work. 

'Did you get it?' he asked Peggy as she gave him his drink. 

'Yes. I have now got a perfect copy of the Babbington diamond,' she said. 'I told the glassmaker I was a big fan of the Babbingtons. And I said that my boyfriend wouldn't buy me a diamond of my own.' 

'You need a new boyfriend,' said Frank. 'If I were your boyfriend, I'd buy you a diamond ring and take you on a long luxury cruise.'

'Oh, really?' she said and smiled.

*****

Frank was sitting in the back seat of the police car. The car was hidden in a small road next to the Babbington house. In the front seats were two strong, young police officers. 

At 23.30, a message came in on the police radio. The thieves, a man and a tall woman, had met outside the Dog and Duck pub. At 23.37, they got into a car. The man started the car and drove away from the pub. 

At midnight, the thieves passed the hidden police car on the way to the Babbingtons' house. At 00.13, the woman climbed over one of the garden walls. A second hidden police team watched her climb over, while the man waited in the car.  

At 00.20, the woman climbed back over the wall. She had an excited smile on her face. She ran back to the car. Smiling, the man waited for her to jump in and then they drove away. 

*****

Almost immediately, the thieves passed Frank's car. The young police officer in the driver's seat switched on the blue lights and followed them. 

Inside the car, the thieves were afraid.

'What are they doing here?' the man shouted. 'You said you turned off the alarms!'

'Relax, I did,' she replied. 'Remember, the police don't know what we've done. Just be normal! We can walk away from this with the diamond.'

The man stopped the car and opened his window. 

'Is there a problem, officer?' he asked. His face was red and shiny because he was so nervous. 

'You were speeding. We'll need to give you a ticket. Can you both get out of the car, please?' 

The man still looked nervous. One officer wrote the speeding ticket and the other stood close in case they ran away. Frank began to search the car.

'Hey! What's he doing?' the woman said. But she knew the game was over. 

Frank breathed heavily as he started looking under the seats. His hand felt something smooth, hard and cold under the front passenger seat. The Babbington diamond! He took the diamond and put it in his jacket pocket. At the same time, with his other hand, he took something very similar out of his trouser pocket. He held it up. 

'OK, you two!' he said. 'You are under arrest for stealing this diamond!' 

****

While the young police officers arrested the criminals, Frank held the evidence up for everyone to see. In the light from the moon, it shone every colour.  

'Wow!' said one of the young police officers. 'I've never seen a real diamond up close.' 

'Imagine if someone gave you that as a present!' said the other. 

'Just imagine,' Frank agreed. He carefully put it into an evidence bag. Half an hour later, back at the station, he gave it to Spencer. Spencer took it from him carefully, as if it was a new baby. 

*****

Five weeks later, Frank was sitting in his new armchair and drinking a glass of the best champagne. His expensive new cat sat at his feet. 

He picked up the local newspaper. The two thieves had got six years in prison. The photo in the newspaper was of the Babbingtons. They were standing next to the diamond inside its new, extra-strong glass case. Frank looked closer at the photo of the diamond. 

Only an expert would notice anything strange about the Babbington diamond. And only if they saw the diamond up close. 

Frank put the newspaper down and picked up one of the travel magazines on his beautiful new coffee table. 

'Peggy?' he said. 'Would you like to go to the Bahamas or the Maldives?'

Peggy put down her own champagne glass. A small diamond ring on her finger shone in the light. 'Why not both?' she smiled. 

'I did promise you a long cruise,' he said. 

'You did!' she replied. 'I'm so glad I called you first when I heard them planning to steal the diamond.'

'Me too, Peggy,' he said. 'Me too.'

Life now he had retired was a wonderful thing after all. 

 

Story written by Clive Lane and adapted by Nicola Prentis