TWO VERSIONS
Here's a bit of a story I've been struggling with for a couple of weeks. The main thing is I'm not sure whether to write in the first or third person. Please tell me which is best.
The first time …
… I went to Fortune's house I carried my Subbuteo things in my duffel bag, the one Mum had made for me out of that bristly, rust-coloured material. There was a tall hedge in front of what I thought was the house. I went to the end of the road to check that it really was Stanbury Drive, then saw the first house had a tile with the number 2. Next door, at what I assumed was number 4, there was a big wrought iron gate that opened to a concreted wide drive. There was a patch of oil on the surface next to a pale blue car like Uncle Ted's - a Ford Anglia. A plaque on the gate said 'Egremont.' Fortune hadn't mentioned the house had a name. He also hadn’t told me he lived in a mansion. There was another gate under a neat privet arch. I stood for a moment and gazed at the diamond shapes in the front window and the neat rose bush in the middle of other, small plants in a border, blue, yellow and pink. There were also some taller plants that looked like thistles. The smooth path led to a dark brown door with black studs evenly spaced. The path also turned left to a small gate. I swallowed, pressed the doorbell and felt a vibrating buzz. The elastoplast was peeling off the back of my left hand.
“You found us then.” Fortune’s voice came from the side of the house. “Come round this way.”
We passed another door at the side of the house and went into the garage through a narrow door in the bigger door. Inside was a space I could see was bigger than the entire downstairs of our house. In the middle was a ping pong table and at the far end was a window that overlooked a workbench with planks and stuff underneath. That was bigger than the ones we had in school. There were things with covers over them and a grey metal cupboard. Fortune led the way out of a side door. There was a lawn as green as a cricket pitch with a low table and folded canvas deckchairs like the ones Dad hired at Filey. The French windows were open and net curtains fluttered in the breeze.
"This way," said Fortune. "Mother wants to meet you."
There was a wall with reddish climbing plants at the end of the garden. Fortune pushed open a gate.
"She's in the orchard."
"Orchard?"
"Yes. We have a few fruit trees. Apples, pears and plums. Mother rescues them." He spoke as though this was the most ordinary thing to do.
*****The first time
Philip went to Fortune's house he carried his Subbuteo in his duffel bag. There was a tall hedge in front of what Philip thought was the house. He went to the end of the road to check that it really was Stanbury Drive, then saw the first house had a tile with the number 2. There was a five bar gate that opened to a concreted wide drive, a patch of oil on the surface next to a pale blue car like Uncle Ted's - a Ford Anglia. A plaque on the top rung said 'Egremont.' Fortune hadn't mentioned the house had a name so Philip assumed this was number 4. There was another gate under a neat privet arch. Philip stood for a moment and gazed at the leaded diamond shapes in the front window and the neat rose bush in the middle of a trimmed lawn. There were other, smaller plants in a border, blue, yellow and pink. There were also some taller plants that looked like thistles. The smooth path led to a dark brown door with black studs evenly spaced. The path also turned left to a small gate. Philip swallowed, pressed the doorbell and felt a vibrating buzz. The elastoplast was peeling off one of the deeper slashes on the back of his left hand.
“You found us then.” Fortune’s voice came from the side of the house. “Come round this way.”
They passed another door at the side of the house and entered the garage through a narrow door in the bigger double doors. Inside was a space Philip could see was bigger than the entire downstairs of his family home. In the middle was a ping pong table and at the far end was a window that overlooked a workbench. Fortune led the way out of a side door. There was a lawn as green as a cricket pitch with a low table and folded canvas deckchairs like the ones Dad hired at Filey. He noticed the net curtains flapping out of the open French windows at the back of the house.
"This way," said Fortune. "Mother wants to meet you."
There was a wall with reddish climbing plants at the end of the garden. Fortune pushed open a gate.
"She's in the orchard."
"Orchard?"
"Yes. We have a few fruit trees. Apples, pears and plums. Mother rescues them." He spoke as though this was the most ordinary thing to do.
"Mother," called Fortune.
A figure stood up from a patch of tilled earth. She wore a wide brimmed hat, a faded blue smock with large pockets and a pair of trousers that were rolled thickly at the ankles. She took off the gloves she'd been wearing and dropped them in a basket, along with a trowel and some other gardening implements.
"This is Groves."
"Kiffer's told us a lot about you." she said. "Anyway, I don't want to call you Groves. Far too formal. What is your Christian name?"
I told her and she asked what my parents called me. "Philip," I told her.
"And what do your parents do?"
Philip told her his father worked at Beaumont College.
"Oh," Mrs Fortune exclaimed. "What does he teach?"
Philip explained that his father worked in the kitchen.
"Ah. And your mother?"
"She's not working just now."
"Now I must get on with this job." She reached for her gloves. "There's some cake in the tin and you know where the juice is."