Caught in the Web chapter 14

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Chapter Fourteen

The morning sunlight swept into the quiet of the ward as Karen pulled back the curtains. She laughed out loud at the thought of the news she’d just received.

'The first sign of madness,' Dorothy commented, as she wheeled the trolley from the kitchen, rattling into the relative peace of the day.

'What?' Karen turned. 'Oh, sorry. I've just had a letter about my training. I've been accepted as a student.'

'Well done. Rather you than me though. I'm quite happy just being an assistant.' Dorothy busied herself laying the tables as she talked.

'It's what I need to do.' Karen took a pile of plates from the trolley.

'Yeah, but all that studying,' Dorothy said. 'It's beyond me.'

'Well, I've got to give it a go,' Karen said. 'The only thing is, I'll miss working here.'

'You'll do some time on here during the course, won't you?'

'Six weeks in training school first,' said Karen. 'Then we do twelve weeks on each ward, with two weeks in school between. I don't know what wards I'll work on.' She paused. 'I don't know if I fancy working with old people though.'

'You'll be fine,' Dorothy reassured her. 'It's not much different from working here. Just a bit more of the physical nursing.'

'Yeah, a lot of washing dirty backsides, I heard.' Karen grimaced.

'Shit shovelling! And feeding. All those soft diets,' Dorothy said. 'But they're not all like that. You can have a lot of fun. I quite liked it.' She leaned on the trolley as she reminisced.

'Really?' Karen wasn't so sure.

'I enjoyed it on Beech ward,' Dorothy went on. 'You can get very fond of some of the patients you know. Although I admit it's hard work and some of them can be right bitches. And then if you work on a male ward it can be very hard. They're stronger than the women, and most of them are taller than you so you have more of a job to get out of the way of their fists.'

'I don't suppose they can help it.' Karen tried to look on the bright side. ‘They wouldn't be in here if they were alright and could look after themselves, would they?'

'I suppose not. Anyway, we'd better get started on our lot or we'll never get done this morning.' Dorothy walked away towards the bedrooms.

Karen followed her and between them they soon had most of the bedroom doors open wide, calling each of the ladies in turn to get themselves up and dressed ready for breakfast.

'Of course,' Dorothy called to Karen, 'not many of those old patients can dress themselves and you have to wash them all before they come down for breakfast. This ward's a doddle compared to Gerries.'

'I only have to do twelve weeks on geriatrics though. I should cope with that.' Karen swallowed down any feelings of trepidation. She smiled to herself as she made the beds in the dormitory, pushing open the windows as far as she could to allow the summer air into the room.

A woman’s screams suddenly cut through the tranquility.

'Evelyn!' The thought hit her like a reflex as she hurried along the gallery. Evelyn’s door was already open and as she reached it, Karen saw Mike and Dorothy inside.

'What's happened?' Karen asked. 'Is she hurt? Was it Gloria again?'

'I don't know,' Mike replied. 'She just started screaming. Gloria's in the dining room with Linda and Andy. It wasn't her this time.'

Evelyn was lying on the bed, curled in her usual foetal position, sobbing loudly.

'I'll get something to calm her,' Mike told the others. 'You two stay here until I get back.'

Dorothy sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on Evelyn's shoulder. Karen held her breath but Evelyn’s sobbing gradually became quieter.

'What is it, Evelyn?' Dorothy asked.

'She won't tell you.' Karen said.

'Evelyn?' Dorothy repeated. 'It's alright. You're safe here. It's Dorothy and Karen. We've been looking after you, remember? Mike's getting you something to help you calm down. Alright?'

Evelyn turned her head a fraction. Her eyes held Karen’s, eventually softening as she relaxed.

'She'll be alright now,' said Dorothy.

'Yes, I think you're right,' Karen smiled.

Mike was back with a small medicine glass filled with a syrupy liquid.

'Here you are Evelyn, take this.' He offered the glass to her lips. She struggled to sit up and took it from his hand. Looking from the glass to Karen and then to Mike, she drank down the substance in one swallow.

'Good girl.' Mike took the glass from her hand. 'One of you stay with her for a bit, won't you? Just until she sleeps.'

'I'll stay,' Karen offered.

'Leave the door open,' Dorothy said to Karen as she went. 'Just shout if you need me.'

Left alone with Evelyn, Karen sat tentatively on the chair beside the bed. She looked around the room. There were no pictures, no personal touches at all. She looked at Evelyn lying on the bed. Her eyes were closed. Karen noticed the clear unlined skin of her face and thought about how young she seemed.

'You've had no life really,' she whispered without realising that she had spoken out loud. 'What a waste of so many years.'

Something tucked under the pillow caught her eye. A flash of colour in contrast to the white hospital linen. Karen gently took hold of it. The end of a length of pink wool was just showing and as Karen lifted the pillow, she could see that it had been tightly wound into a small ball.

Evelyn opened her eyes. She looked alarmed at seeing how near to her Karen was but said nothing.

'This pink wool. It's beautiful,’ Karen said.

Evelyn snatched at it. Holding it close to her she glared at Karen.

'My baby,' she said so quietly that Karen though she had imagined it.

'I think she was talking about her baby,' Karen said to Mike in the office later that morning. 'Her first words to me since I've been here.'

Mike looked up from his notes.

'Really? I can't say that she's ever been known to talk about that before. What did she say,' he asked.

'Well, nothing really,' replied Karen. 'She just said “my baby”. I know it's not much, but it was the way she said it.'

'You should spend more time with her,' Mike suggested. 'Build up a relationship.'

'Oh?'

'Evelyn needs to start getting out of her room, even getting off the ward - just into the grounds at first. It's been difficult for anyone to have a working relationship with her.' He paused. 'You seem to have connected with her somehow in a way no-one has before.'

'But she always freaks out when she sees me,' Karen protested. 'Today's the first time she hasn't reacted by screaming at me.'

'That could be because you've touched something in her. Maybe you remind her of someone from her past. I don't know exactly who or why but this could possibly be the breakthrough we need to help her get better.'

'I don't know how you can work that out from just one small incident,' Karen argued.

'You've shown an interest in her, haven't you?' Mike asked.

'Yes but I didn't think I was getting anywhere with her.’ She paused. ‘She makes me think of my own Mum. I wonder all the time what happened to her.'

'Don't you see your Mum, then?' Mike asked.

'I've never met her,' Karen replied. 'She dumped me at birth, and I've never even known who she was.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Oh, it's a long time ago.' Karen shrugged.

'If you want to talk about it...,' Mike offered.

'Thanks, but I'm alright really.' She paused. 'I'll spend some time talking to Evelyn then.'

'Take her for a short walk in the garden. John can come with you.' Mike turned back to his work. 'Just keep it low key at first, and see how you get on.'

'Get your jacket on Evelyn, and we'll go out into the garden.' Karen pulled opened the door of the small wardrobe. The solitary hanger rattled against the wood as Karen took out the old fashioned coat and held it up for Evelyn. The empty wardrobe was a shock to Karen - a testimonial to Evelyn's life.

Evelyn sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Karen.

'Come on, it's lovely outside,’ Karen coaxed. ‘A bit of fresh air will do you the world of good.'

Evelyn stared at her.

Karen felt her confidence slipping away as she stood holding the coat like some matador teasing a bull. She put it down, feeling slightly ridiculous, and sat on the bed next to Evelyn.

'I'm sorry. You don't have to go out. I just thought it would be nice for you, that's all.'

They sat in silence for a few moments. Karen wondered what else she could say.

'Never mind,' she finally said. 'Maybe you'd like to go out another time.'

She stood up and was hanging Evelyn's coat back on the hanger when John appeared at the door.

'What's going on then?' He grinned. 'Are you two coming outside for a bit?'

'I don't think Evelyn wants to.’

'I'll come.' Evelyn stood up.

Karen and John glanced at each other. Before she could change her mind, Karen helped Evelyn into her coat. John found a battered pair of plimsolls in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. He blew the dust from them and placed them on the floor beside the bed.

'Best get these on,' he said, glancing at Karen again with a slight lift of an eyebrow.

Karen breathed a sigh of relief as they walked towards the garden door with Evelyn between them. They passed down the narrow dark staircase. Karen could see the light at the end of the stairwell. The outside door was propped open leading to the garden - small and enclosed on two sides by the hospital walls stretching up in red-bricked Victorian architecture. A lawn sloped down to an orchard on the far side and a mossy footpath led between the trees which gave welcome shade to the hot mid-morning sunshine. Just a few weeks before, these trees had been laden with blossom, but a late Spring storm had blown most of them clean, and all that was left was the memory and wet petals clumped under-foot as they walked. Several benches were scattered along the edge of the path, and the trio made their way to sit on one of them under the shade of a tree.

An overwhelming feeling of peace enveloped Karen as she sat beside Evelyn. She smiled to herself, and glanced at John who was at the other end of the bench.

'What are you grinning about?' he laughed.

'I don't know.' She looked up at the tree. 'It's the sunshine I suppose, and being outside. She looked at Evelyn. 'Are you alright, Evelyn?'

Evelyn looked back at her. 'Thank you,' she said.

'What for?'

Evelyn just smiled, saying nothing.

Caught in the Web - Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Karen sipped her tea, trying not to grimace at the strength of its bitter taste as she sat on the edge of the sofa, listening to Mrs. Chapman's story unfold.

'I suppose I should start from the beginning. Alfred and I got married too young, some said, but our life together was a good one. We were happy, even though we did struggle to make ends meet at times. He worked in the iron foundry, down by the creek.' She laughed. 'He came home each night looking like a darkie, or like he worked in the mine. It was hard work and took its toll on him. He was a moody bugger sometimes. Excuse my language, but that's how it was. Anyway, despite his moods we were happy and when Evelyn was born, it was like our world was complete.'

She smiled into the distance. 'She was such a beautiful child. I would go out every day shopping for our dinner, pushing her around the town in her pram. Life was good.'

'Were there other children?' Karen asked.

'Not then.' A cloud passed briefly over Mrs. Chapman's face. 'We wanted more, but it just didn't happen.' She frowned.

'Then the war came,' she continued. 'Alfred was in a reserve occupation, so I didn't worry too much at first, until all his friends started to join up, and before long he went too. He joined the army. Evelyn was four. A lovely little girl, and a right little madam too, she was. We both missed Alfred so much.' She swallowed, then took a deep breath. 'When the telegram came, I was devastated. He was killed in action. My world fell apart that day.'

'I'm sorry,' Karen whispered.

'Yes, it was a hard time for me.' Mrs. Chapman smoothed her skirt. 'Well, for both of us really. Evelyn loved her Daddy, and missing him was hard for her too. I was on my own for the rest of the war, but managed somehow by doing a bit of cleaning at the vicarage in Osborne Road. It's just around the corner from here and they used to let me take Evelyn with me when she was off school.' She paused to sip her tea.

'When I met Bob at the end of the war, I thought it was for the best for Evelyn as well as for me. She was growing up. So, I took him in as a lodger. It was a bit of a Godsend you know, brought in a bit more money, and I liked having a man about the place again.' She hesitated again, looking back into her past.

'He was more than a lodger,' she said. 'I didn't like being on my own, and then Joe came along.' She coughed.

'Did you marry?' Karen asked.

'No.' Mrs. Chapman's face hardened. 'No, I didn't marry him. Evelyn and Joe called him Uncle Bob. He wasn't their uncle though, but he was very good to us.'

Karen looked at her enquiringly.

'We were going to marry, but he already had a wife over Southampton way. It was difficult in those days. People didn't divorce like they do now.' She laughed. 'It's funny, but it was more acceptable to have a lodger under your roof, than to marry a divorced man, even when there was a child involved.' She stopped and looked at Karen. 'Oh, don't get me wrong, there was always plenty of gossip. I knew that. But still it was better for us than not having a man about at all. That is, until...'

She stopped talking, and busied herself with the teacup, spooning in another helping of sugar, and vigorously stirring it into the already tepid tea. She gave Karen a grim smile before continuing.

'Evelyn had grown into a lovely young woman. I knew that she would be popular with the boys, and I could see that there was a fondness between her and Bob. He used to walk to the park to meet her when she was out with her friends, and when he started to worry about her and the boys, I realised how protective he was. You know, like a real father would be with his daughter.'

'What did he say?' Karen asked.

'That she was letting them do things that they shouldn't. Touching her and that.' Mrs. Chapman frowned. 'I didn't want to believe it. After all, I'd brought her up to respect herself. Nice girls keep themselves for their husbands, and Evelyn was a nice girl. That's what I thought, anyway.'

'What happened to her?' Karen asked.

'She got pregnant.' Mrs. Chapman's voice was bitter. 'After all I went through for her, and she got pregnant. She never told us who it was though. If only she'd told us, we could have helped her.'

'How?'

'Bob would have made sure they got married before the baby was born. Lots of girls got married like that then. Still do, probably. There's no shame in having a baby early on in a marriage. But she wouldn't tell us. Just kept quiet. She stayed in her room for months, and when the baby was born Bob put his foot down and made her give it up.' She stopped and sighed. 'A little girl.'

'Was she adopted then?' Karen's heart was racing. 'Who took her?'

'Bob sorted it out.' Mrs. Chapman stopped again, and stared at the net curtains. 'I couldn't bear it. Evelyn was so strange - she wouldn't speak to me. I tried. Believe me, I did. The adoption people came to the house, but Evelyn wouldn't let them in her room. She had a temper on her. I hear her screams even now.' She sighed in reflection, then shook herself back to the story.

'After they'd gone, Bob went up and she stopped crying for a bit, but then the next day she wouldn't even come down to get the baby's clean nappies. I had them drying by the kitchen stove. She wouldn't let me in the room. Then when Bob came home from work he went upstairs and came back down with the baby all wrapped up in a pink knitted blanket.' She paused. 'She had pink bootees on. Evelyn made them when she was pregnant.'

'What happened?' Karen persisted though she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hear any more.

'He took her away.' A painful expression was on her face now. 'When he came back, he said that he'd taken her to the Welfare Office in town. That's where the adoption people worked. They'd told him to bring the baby in after he'd finished work that day. That’s what he said and I never questioned him. You didn't ask questions in those situations.' She glared at Karen. 'He had our best interests at heart.'

'So you never found out where the baby went?'

'I know it seems hard now,' Mrs. Chapman justified. 'If I'd been a stronger woman, maybe I'd have fought to find out. Sometimes I wonder whether I could have helped Evelyn bring her up. I know women who've brought up their daughter's child as their own. But I had Bob and his word was law in this house.’

Karen looked at her.

'You may think it was hard, but that's how life was then. You had to respect the man's wishes. I needed him to look after me.'

'What was the baby's name?' Karen held her breath.

'We didn't even give her a name. It was too painful to put a name to her. Evelyn may have, in her own mind but we never discussed it.' She looked at Karen. 'It was too difficult what with Evelyn not speaking. When she tried to talk she just screamed and screamed. I couldn't stand it.'

'It must have been awful,' Karen said.

'She got worse after the baby was gone. Stayed in her room. She wouldn't come out even to get a bath. Just crept down to use the toilet after we'd gone to bed. I could hear her at night, creeping about the house. After a week I decided to put my foot down and tried to get her to talk to me about it. She hadn't eaten anything since the baby was taken. I took her up some soup and a bit of bread. She looked awful, just lay there on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She wouldn't take the soup so I just sat there beside her on the bed.

'What do you say to a girl in that situation?' she went on. 'I felt so bad, like it was my fault. I remembered when Evelyn was born and what a happy time that was for me and Alfred, and tried to tell her that things would be good for her again. She was so young, and would probably marry the right man one day, then have children in the right way. She was just crying all the time, tears just constantly flowing, not making any noise though. Just silent weeping, like she was heart-broken.'

Mrs. Chapman stopped talking, her mind in past times, seemingly reluctant to go on.

'Please, Mrs. Chapman, what happened to Evelyn?' Karen was desperate to know the outcome. 'Did she ever go looking for her baby?'

'No, of course not!' She took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't snap at you. But you must understand that doing that would have been out of the question, and anyway they wouldn't have let her know even if she had tried. Once the baby was given up that was the end of it.'

'Did she sign the adoption papers then?' Karen needed to know.

'They didn't need her signature. She was ill you understand. Not in her right mind.' Mrs. Chapman reached into her pocket and drew out an embroidered handkerchief. She dabbed her nose before continuing. 'The doctor was called and they took her away to Highclere. For her own good, they said.'

'I'm sorry. I've upset you.‘ Karen reached out to touch Mrs. Chapman's arm. 'I shouldn't have come.'

'No, perhaps you shouldn't,' Mrs. Chapman agreed. 'But you have now, and maybe it's time I faced up to my past. I haven't heard anything about Evelyn for years. I wasn't even sure if she was still there. I heard they were moving some of them out into homes.'

'I don't think Evelyn would be moving out yet,' Karen said. 'But she may like you to visit her.'

'I don’t know.'

Karen was silent. She tried to imagine the two women meeting up again after such a long time.

Mrs. Chapman spoke again. 'It's all been a bit of a shock to me, you coming here, bringing up all these memories. I don't think I'm ready to take this any further yet. It's a lot to take in.'

'Yes of course,' Karen reassured her. 'I only came out of curiosity really. I shouldn't have intruded on you.'

'Well tell them at the hospital that I won't be visiting at the moment.' Mrs. Chapman was adamant.

Karen blushed. 'They don't know I'm visiting you. This isn't official. I just came here on a whim really. I am sorry.'

Karen was out of her depth and needed to get out of this little cottage as quickly as possible. She wondered how to retreat without offending the poor woman further.

'Listen, dear.' Mrs. Chapman took her hand. 'I'm glad you took the trouble to come looking for me. It's just that I'm not ready to take it any further yet.'

'I must go.' Karen squeezed her hand and stood up.

'You will visit again?' Mrs. Chapman asked. 'I'd like that, really.'

Karen hesitated. 'I don't know whether I should. I don't want to intrude.'

'Don't be daft. I need a breath of fresh air now and again,' she insisted. 'Not many people drop in to see me these days. Just knock the door, any time you're passing. The kettle's always on.'

'Alright, I will.' Karen smiled. 'Thank you for the tea and your time and I'm really sorry if I've upset you.'

'Stop that. I told you I'm glad you came,' Mrs. Chapman said. 'I just need a little time to think, that's all.'

Well goodbye then.' Karen was at the door. 'See you soon.'

'Goodbye my dear.'

Mrs. Chapman stood at the door as Karen walked down the path to the street. She opened the gate and looked back then smiled as the older woman raised her hand to wave before closing the front door quietly on the bustle of the town outside.

book signing Chesapeake Mill

It's Sunday morning and I'm reflecting on yesterday's book signing.  I realised after a while that although the mill was busy, most of the customers were there to look at bric-a-brac and antique stuff and not books.  People politely smiled at me from time to time, some even glanced at the books but it was hard work to engage anyone in conversation.  I did manage to get a couple of people interested in the content of the novel but even they just wished me good luck and wandered off again.
At one point I got excited until I realised that the customer only wanted my help with some merchandise they couldn't quite reach.  They were disappointed when I said I didn't actually work in the shop but was there to promote my novel!
However, I consider the day a success - I met some great women who work there and have to thank them for making my few hours in the mill fun, so thanks Terri and Sue for the laughs.  It was nice to see some of my friends and family who came along to support me and I sold four books so the day was a great one after all.

Now we're off on the motorbike for a trip to the coast through the New Forest.  The sun is shining in England at last!

Mother-in-waiting

From the moment of conception
You begin the long wait
Not just the date of birth
But every day outside the school gate
Sitting about in corridors or cars
Whilst child lives out their childhood
Having fun
You wait.

At home the hours drift by
Like summer clouds
While you wait for the phone
Or computer
Or the shower
And then
After you've had your own
Hurried turn in the bathroom
You wait.

(Written a few years ago when my child was younger.  How I miss those years now!)

Slice of Toast

There was a slice of toast in the gutter
When I walked back from the garage today
A slice of square bread
White and toasted
No butter
No Jam or marmalade
Just one lost slice of toast
Discarded from someone's life.

What was the story behind the toast?
Was it thrown from some white-van window
Without a care?
Or did a child
Hurrying to school
No time for breakfast at home
Butter-fingeredly
Drop it there?

Rough Camp - Southwick 2006

Cool breezes under trees
Waving arms as children shout
And buzz around like bees
On motorbikes

The fire smoke whips and curls
And slowly unfurls
Like a cloak of velvet
Smelling sweet
Creeping about our feet
As we sit and ponder our lives

Pictures of Mull and Iona

View from Mull Coast Path above Tobermory

Mull Little Theatre

Iona Abbey

Celtic Cross at Iona Abbey

Tobermory Harbour Cat

Boy Pipers at Tobermory

From the Harbour Wall

Highland Cattle near the beach

This is it! Not so much a waterfall any more.

We camped near here 30 years ago

View from Tigh na Mara - Loch Duin

The Church at Dervaig

Dervaig Village Street

Searching for our waterfall

Another view of the loch at Dervaig - Loch Cuin

Calgary Beach

Ride across Mull

That's me on the bike!

Coast Path on Mull near Tobermory

I meant to put these on my last post to illustrate the journey.

Mull and Iona

12 June
Lunch on Iona after a wonderful long ride around the West Coast of Mull, we caught the ferry at 12.30.  It was full of tourists - we had seen so few since arriving on Mull that it was a bit of a shock to be truthful although once we got off on Iona, the crowds dispersed very quickly.  We wandered up to the abbey through the back way and managed to miss the rush.  It's definitely a special place even with so many people wandering about.  It would be the ideal place to come for a writer's retreat, although very cold, no doubt.
Today, as we rode through dark clouds after a promising start, it rained part of the way, but now on Iona it's warm and sunny with a bit of a breeze.  We saw a couple of sea eagles, a tawny owl, and some oyster-catchers this morning on our way.  Sitting outside the bar, eating ploughmans and watching the ferry going backwards and forwards to Fionnphort - enjoying what Mark reckons could be the only sunny day of the holiday - wondering what to do for dinner tonight.

10.30pm
We travelled back to Tobermory through a bit more rain - decided to have our evening meal there instead of going straight back to Dervaig.  Spent an hour enjoying more sun - saw two young boy pipers - then ate fish and chips on the harbour.  Met some people from Chichester who were on a cruise from Portsmouth!  Such a small world, we thought.  Then we chatted with some other people who were staying in Dervaig as well - not such a small world really although we realised that they were bikers as well and seemed envious of us as they'd been doing their travelling in a car this time.

13th June
Felt a bit sick last night, but fine this morning.  I think I had a bit of motion sickness from sitting on the back of the bike whilst we rode through the winding roads across the hills yesterday - full of fish and chips!
We decided to spend the day in Tobermory where we walked a little of the coast path then visited the museum, soaking up the history of the Island.  The curator loved to talk about his home and it turned out later that he was the now retired GP and a much-loved old fashioned Doctor for the Islanders.  We trekked up the hill to the Arts Centre in a converted school for a cheese toastie and a coke.  Then dropped into the newer Mull Little Theatre, sadly closed that day, but it felt like I was dipping a toe into the past even so.
Then off again on the bike to search for the waterfall I'd camped beside over thirty years ago when I was on holiday and pregnant with Stevie.  It was harder to find than expected - we'd meandered about the hills for part of the morning before heading off to Tobermory.  Then the Doctor in the museum gave us some idea of where it might be.  There is a river and a waterfall near the beach.  We stopped and took some pictures but I knew that this wasn't it.  So on we travelled, me disappointed that we'd never find it, almost content to leave it back in my memories.  Then suddenly, as we passed over a small bridge, I noticed a fast-moving brook from the road and got Mark to stop beside a metal gate.  'I think this may be it,' I said.  We opened the gate and went into an uneven field, sheep gazing at us curiously.  I turned and walked back to the road and wandered towards the bridge.  Mark called me back after exploring deeper into the small woodland at the side of the field. 'There's a small waterfall in there. Come and look.'  And it was.  There was the place we'd camped, all those years ago.  There was the river we'd washed in.  Looking at it now I wondered how we'd ever drank that water, but we had.  It was lovely to go back and see this place again, so little unchanged for over thirty years!

Much later that evening we walked from our Bed and Breakfast down to the loch side.  So peaceful in this place - we were so relaxed and felt it was a pity we were moving on to Sky in the morning.  Our last evening meal on Mull, again in the Bellachroy Hotel.  A truly lovely day.

Amongst the Writer's Clutter

Amongst the writer's clutter sits the cat.
Now you may think
What's so special about that?
But - you'll understand if I tell you
She never sits upon the desk
When suddenly this day
Each time into the room I come
There she lay -
First here, upon my papers,
Next behind the printer
Squashed between paper-feeder
And the wall -
Then draped across the telephone
As if waiting for a call.
I hate to tell her the phone don't work
It's just a quirky prop -
A talking point or inspiration
For some, as yet, unimagined tale -
Is she telling me to stop?
Am I wasting precious time
Just filling pages with poetry
That doesn't even rhyme?

Pictures of my first Book Signing

My first customer of the day

Another happy customer

Book signing and Caught in the Web Update

The book signing on Wednesday went well.  I met with a few local people who were interested in my novel, some had already bought a copy and came in to ask me to sign it, others bought a new copy from me.  Sitting in the Village Stores Tea Rooms, meeting lovely people, having a gossip, and talking about my novel was what I would call a great morning.  And I sold 12 copies of Caught in the Web in two hours!
The coffee and cake was wonderful too.  Thanks to Paula for allowing me the space, and for selling the novel over the counter - selling approx one a day now.

Later that day I sold another copy in the Village Stores - then that evening I sold two copies in the Golden Lion.  My best ever day yet for sales!

Yesterday I buzzed around looking for further venues to do book signings and it looks like I will be doing the next one in Wickham in the Chesapeake Mill, hopefully on a Saturday this time - in the next few weeks, thanks to Sandy, who has read the book and couldn't put it down.

Then I'll be doing another in Arty's Wine Bar in Knowle Village - a quirky Pizza-serving bar which is crammed with interesting furniture and objects which you can purchase as well as the food.  They have had great reviews but the venue is tucked away from town between Fareham and Wickham on the new village which has been built on the site of the mental hospital that features in Caught in the Web.
I had a coffee with the owner and a great chat.  It's worth a visit at any time just to meet him!

For those of you who follow the episodes of Caught in the Web - here is chapter 12.  If you like it, you can buy it on Kindle.  It's also now on Amazon as a paperback - so, please buy it if you can, and I'd be so grateful if you could write a brief review/like it on the Amazon site.  It really does help sales and as you can see from the numbers I'm selling - I'm just at the beginning of something good.  Thank you.

Chapter Twelve

'I've brought you a lovely cup of tea.' Karen opened her eyes to the sound of Peter's voice. He placed the cup on the bedside table and slid in beside her.

Peter hadn't spoken to her since she'd told him she wanted to start training as a nurse. She'd spent longer hours at work, reluctant to come home to the chill of his moods. Bringing her tea in bed was something he'd never done before. She was immediately on edge, wondering what he was up to.

'Thank you.' She sat up and took a sip of tea.

'It's time for a little chat,' he said. 'I think we had a bit of a misunderstanding when we talked before.'

'What do you mean?'

'I don't think you realise how important it is to me. Having children I mean.' He shifted in the bed.

'I know it's important to you,' Karen bristled. 'It is to me as well, but so is my career.'

'You can start your career after you've had children,' Peter insisted. 'I know lots of women who work and have kids.'

Karen sighed. 'I know, but I don't feel ready for children yet.'

'For God's sake!' he snapped. 'You're so selfish. I don't know why you bothered marrying me.' He stopped for a moment then turned to her again. 'Are you having it off with someone else?'

'Of course not.' Karen was shocked. 'Why would you think that?'

'You're never here,' he spat. 'And when you are, you're not a proper wife.'

Karen paused before answering. 'I have to work long shifts,' she said. 'And I am a proper wife. I don't know what you mean by that.'

'We haven't had sex for ages,' he complained.

'It's not that long.' Karen felt sick, knowing where this was all going.

'Long enough.'

'But you've been out when I get home most evenings,' she reasoned.

'You used to wait up for me when I went out,' Peter whined. 'What happened to that?'

'I'm sorry,' Karen said. 'I just get really tired sometimes.'

'Well, give us a cuddle now, then - show me what a good little wife you are.'

'I'm sorry. I can't now. I don't feel well.'

'Come on,' he urged, his hand stroking her leg under the covers. 'I really want you.'

'Sorry, no. I can't.' Karen took a deep breath. 'I just don't feel like making love.'

'Come on,' Peter gripped her hair and turned her head to his. 'Show me you love me.'

'I just can't turn it on like a tap,' Karen snapped. 'I can't do it any more.'

Peter jumped out of the bed and pulled his clothes on. He moved to the door and turned, glaring at her. 'You frigid bitch!' he said as he swept out. A moment later she heard the front door slam.

'Am I frigid?' she asked herself. Maybe he was right. Her mind was churning. 'I can't think straight any more,' she thought. 'But I can't live like this for much longer.'

She tried to push thoughts of Peter from her mind as she got dressed. Soon she found herself wondering about Evelyn.

Abandoned in Highclere for over twenty years after having a baby out of wedlock. Surely there had to be more to her story than that. Why would a young woman be locked away just for having a child? Karen wished she could find out more about what had happened. Only Evelyn had the answers. She couldn't get the thought out of her head that Evelyn had given birth to a baby girl. Somewhere out there, she had a daughter. A daughter the same age as Karen.

Karen rummaged in her work bag and found her notebook. Evelyn's details were scribbled on the page. She'd lived in Fareham before she was taken to the hospital. Karen felt a flicker of guilt at what she was about to do, but her need to find out more about Evelyn was overwhelming.

'Bugger confidentiality,' she whispered. 'I might be her next of kin.'

Once the thought was spoken, it made it more real somehow, and Karen felt the excitement bubbling as she left the house and caught the bus to Fareham.

The church bell was striking ten o'clock as she walked up the street counting the house numbers as she went. Number twenty-eight was one of a row of small terraced houses with a narrow, neatly-planted garden sloping up to the front door steps.

The paintwork on the door had seen better days and was faded and cracked, but the small window facing the street was shining and the net curtains were a brilliant white, hiding the interior from curious passers-by.

Karen noticed the narrow alley at the side of the house, which divided it from a similarly small house next door. The buildings were connected above the alley, which was paved in cobble stones, now shiny and wet from the recent rain.

Suddenly too afraid to knock at the front door, Karen took a deep breath, approached the covered alley and walked briskly through to the light at the far end. She had a feeling of familiarity, as though she'd been here before, but couldn't remember when.

A pathway ran along the back of the houses - she could see along to the end each way she looked. There was a tin bath hanging on the side of a brick out-house.

'Surely they don't still bathe in tin baths.' She thought of her own cosy little house with all the modern conveniences.

The back yard was small, the cobbled ground sloping towards a gulley which ran the length of the row of houses. Rainwater was still running freely towards the storm drain at one end. Karen could smell the damp brickwork kindling memories of a time past which were lost before she could grasp the sense of them. Beyond the yard was a vegetable garden with a red-bricked path leading to the outside toilet at the end.

Another memory forced its way into her senses - the darkness of the enclosed space, spiders' webs in the black corners above her head, the pungent odour of the muck-filled pit beneath the wooden seat, damp newspaper torn into squares and threaded on coarse string hanging from the wall. So vivid a memory, but Karen couldn't tell where it had come from.

She was gazing at the empty washing line when she felt a shiver down her spine. Turning, she realised that the back door to the house had opened and she was no longer alone.

'Can I help you?' An old woman stood in the doorway. 'This is private property. Not a public footpath!'

Karen smiled at the indignation of the woman. 'I'm so sorry,' she said. 'I was looking for a Mrs. Chapman who used to live here.'

'Well, you've found her,' the woman answered. 'What do you want with me?'

Karen felt her chest tighten. Her throat was dry and the blood rushed to her face.

Mrs. Chapman was a small woman with white hair cut into a bob and clipped back behind each ear with a hair grip. Her face carried the lines of her age, with more worry lines than laughter mapping out her past cares. She wore a flowery cotton overall which covered a tweed skirt and pale blue blouse. A hand-knitted cardigan, the sleeves pulled up above the elbows, completed the picture.

'Well?' Mrs. Chapman was speaking again. 'What is it? Cat got your tongue?'

'Sorry,' Karen stammered. 'I shouldn't be here really. I feel awful.'

The older woman glared at her for a moment longer, then her face softened. 'Well you'd better come in then. It looks like rain again.' She ushered Karen into the tiny kitchen. 'I'll put the kettle on. Would you like a cup of tea?'

Karen hesitated.

'I'm having one anyway, and you look like you need something to perk you up.' Mrs.Chapman picked up the kettle from the stove.

'Thank you,' Karen smiled. 'Sorry. I'm being very rude. I'd love a cup. Sorry, I'm Karen Edwards.'

'Grace Chapman,' the older woman said. 'Mrs. Chapman to you.' She busied herself filling the kettle and lighting the gas with a match as she spoke. 'Soon have the kettle boiled. Now what brings you looking for me? I don't know you, do I?'

'No, no. We've not met before.' Karen wished she hadn't come. 'This is really difficult,' she went on. 'I wondered if you knew about someone called Evelyn. Her name's Evelyn Chapman, and she used to live here a long time ago.'

Mrs. Chapman's face blanched. She looked at Karen, her eyes like flint.

'What do you know of Evelyn?' she demanded.

'She's a patient on the ward where I work. I just wondered if any of her family were still alive. No one ever visits her you see. She just seems so alone.' Karen was babbling now knowing that she shouldn't really be here. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come. It's very unprofessional of me. I'll go.' She was opening the door before Mrs. Chapman responded.

'Don't go. Please don't,' she said.

Karen hesitated, her hand still on the latch.

'Come back in. You can't just come round here like this and then run away,' Mrs. Chapman pleaded. 'Please come through to the front room and we can talk properly. I'll make the tea.' She smiled at Karen, and led the way to the small parlour. 'Do sit down, my dear, I won't be a moment.'

Karen sat on the sofa beside the black-leaded fireplace and looked around the room. It was gloomily lit by the net-draped window and was crammed with Victorian furniture. A deep red tablecloth covered a dining table almost filling the room which was surrounded by several mismatched dining chairs, all pushed neatly in place to allow more room to pass.

The mantle-piece was covered in brass objects, all lovingly polished. The walls were adorned with over-large sepia portraits of stern-looking ancestors. Karen studied their faces wondering whether they could be her own great-grandparents or whether she was just chasing a dream.

The door opened and Mrs. Chapman came back in, carrying a tray laden with teapot and china cups. She placed the tray on the table and sat down next to Karen.

'We'll just let it brew for a while,' she said. 'You’d better tell me about Evelyn.'

Now that she was actually sitting down face to face with the person she assumed was Evelyn's mother Karen hesitated. She could think of nothing to say.

'I don't know where to start,' she said.

'Well, you seem to have an interest in her,' Mrs. Chapman said. 'How is she?'

'She's well, I suppose.' Karen wondered how she could describe the madness of Evelyn. 'I mean, physically, she's quite well. But she seems to be tormented and we can't get to the bottom of it.' She paused. 'I was reading her notes, trying to find out about her. It's strange, but I felt a sort of bond with her, even though she doesn't seem to like me being around her. Then I started wondering about her family and why she was in there in the first place.'

Karen stopped, realising that she shouldn't have said so much. They'd told her not to get involved with the patients, and here she was, in the home of one of them.

'Go on,' Mrs Chapman said.

'I shouldn't be here,' Karen said. 'I've said too much. I'm sorry.'

'It's alright,' Mrs. Chapman reassured her. 'You want to know why she was sent there? It's all a long time ago now.' She got up and took up the teapot. 'You try to forget,' she said. But you never really can, you know. Not when it's your own daughter in trouble. We'll have some tea, and I'll try and tell you about it.'

'Are you sure,' Karen still felt uncomfortable. 'You don't even know me.'

'I've held it in for too long,' Mrs. Chapman said. 'And you seem to care about Evelyn. No one else has ever been in contact with me from the hospital. It'll be a relief.'