More news from the village - there's going to be a lot of people sampling cooked breakfast in the village shop tea room this sunday morning.
Rehearsals for the forthcoming pantomime - yes I know it's nearly half way through March, but this is Southwick - are reaching a peak.  Hope we don't peak too soon.  This is my first time back with the group for about five or six years and I must say, I'm having a great time.  The show is on 22nd to 24th March and after that my Tuesdays and Thursdays will be my own again.
Thought I'd let you see the next chapter of the novel early this week:

Chapter Four

May 1973 

The morning light saw Karen slipping out of bed.  She got dressed in the bathroom and quietly left the house, the front door closing behind her mutely echoing the feeling of relief she felt.

Karen yawned and looked around the half-empty bus, wondering what this day would bring.  She was dressed self consciously in her new uniform.  The other passengers were either engrossed in reading their newspapers, or dozing against the windows.  When she changed buses in Fareham, the Highclere bus was full to bursting with nurses.  She recognised Marion, and the smile Karen gave as she passed her to sit in the back seat next to Linda was rewarded with a glare.

'Drank too much last night,' Linda groaned.  'Just went to the Social Club for a few and one thing led to another.  You'll have to come over next time you're on a late.’

'I don't know if I can,' Karen said.  ‘I need to get the bus.’

'You could stay for an hour,' Linda said.  'Just get the ten o'clock instead of the nine.'

'I'll have to speak to my husband.'  As soon as she said it, Karen realised how stupid she sounded.

'Well, the offer's there,' said Linda.  'I’ve got a room in the hostel, so if you want to stay over any time, you can.  I just went back to my Mum’s last night to pick up my washing.  She lives in Stubbington.'

'Oh, I don't think I could ever stay,' said Karen.  'But thanks for the offer anyway.'

They walked together down those same corridors that had been so long and empty only the day before.  Today they were filled with men and women in uniform, laughing and chatting to each other on their way to work.  They soon reached the ward door which Linda opened to the airless silence of the early morning in Camberley Ward. 

Mike was waiting for the group of staff to pour themselves a cup of tea.  Karen sat on the edge of her seat, wondering what the day would bring.

'Well Karen,' Mike said.  'Your first proper day today.  Just follow the others and you'll be fine.'  He indicated around the room.  'You know Dorothy, Linda and Marion, and this is John, one of our students.  You can work with Dorothy this morning.  Linda, you work with Marion.  John, you can help me in here for a while.  There's plenty of paperwork to be done.'

Karen sat with the others.  There seemed to be an awful lot of tea to be drunk in this work.  She glanced at John.  'Looks more like a builder or a plumber than a nurse,' she thought, mulling over the idea that it takes all sorts to do this.   

Dorothy and the others started to get up.

'Come on, Karen,' said Dorothy.  'We'll be left with the worst ones if we don't get a move on.'  She pushed her way past Linda and was out of the door.  Karen hurried to catch her up.  ‘Run down to the bathroom and fetch the skips for the dirty sheets.  I’ll make a start on Rosie and Gwen.’  

  Two hours later the staff gathered at one of the dining tables.  Karen’s back ached.  Dorothy lit a cigarette.  She offered one to Karen.

'No thanks,' said Karen.  'I stopped smoking a few months ago.'

'Lucky you,' said Dorothy.  'I can't really afford it, but I don't get many pleasures these days.' 

One of the cleaners came out of the kitchen carrying a plate laden with thickly buttered toast.  The easy banter which soon was bouncing to and fro made Karen feel at home in their company.

'Did you see that Rebecca in the Social Club last night, Mandy?'  Linda was saying to one of the young cleaners.  'She was with Steve.  You know, that porter on the male side.'

'He's married isn't he?' asked Mandy.

'Probably,' said Linda.  'That Rebecca doesn't care when she's had a few drinks.'

'What about that Anita, then,' said Mandy.  'Did you see what she was wearing?'

'I'd never get away with a skirt that short,' said Linda.

'I wouldn't want to!' said Mandy.

'Yeah, you're only jealous,' Mike interjected.  'Just because your legs are short and fat.'

'Oi!' said Mandy.  'Don't be so cheeky!'

And so it went on.  Karen had no idea who they were talking about and hoped that she wasn't to become the focus of their mirth when she wasn't there.

'What about you, Karen?' the other cleaner was asking.  'You got a boyfriend?'

'I'm married.'  Karen felt herself blush.

'You're a bit young aren't you?'  Janet, a thin woman dressed in green overalls with a twinkle in her eye was old enough to be Karen's mother.

'I'm twenty three,' Karen said.  'Not that young really.'

'You should be out enjoying yourself at that age,' insisted Janet.

Karen smiled.  'Why do people always think I'm too young?' she thought but a part of her wondered if Janet was right.

'Time to get on,' Dorothy pushed herself up from the seat.  'I'm going down to the laundry room for some dresses I sent for mending last week.  Will you be alright on your own for a bit Karen?' 

'Yes, of course,' Karen said with a confidence she didn't feel.

'Be back in a while then,' said Dorothy, and she marched off towards the door, keys jangling.

Karen didn't know why she'd felt drawn towards this room.  It was near the end of the long gallery, further than she'd been before.  The door was unlocked so she supposed that it was alright to go in without Dorothy.  Evelyn's name was written in black pen on a card on the door.  Curiosity overcame Karen's fears as she entered the room.  The woman lay curled on her bed like a foetus, her eyes tightly closed against  any intrusion into her world. 

'Hello, Evelyn,' Karen said.  'Are you going to get up this morning?'

Evelyn's answer was to tense herself up into a tighter ball, like a hedge-hog being sniffed at by an inquisitive dog.

Karen reached down and gently touched Evelyn's shoulder.  

It was as though her hand had been a burning flame as Evelyn flew up like a coiled spring, screaming, her talons reaching out to scratch at Karen’s face.

'Oh, my God! Oh shit!'  Karen flew backwards towards the still open doorway and somehow managed to get through the door in time to slam it shut behind herself.  She ran straight into Mike who was passing by at that precise moment.

'Woah!  You alright?’  He held her by the arms to steady her.

Karen suddenly felt silly standing there like that, with Evelyn glaring at her through the window of her door and Mike holding onto her as though she was one of his patients.

'I'm fine,' she said, shrugging him off.  She took a step backwards.  'I just had a bit of a fright.'

'Evelyn's just a bit weird around new staff sometimes.  You have to get to know her and she'll be fine with you.  She's hardly spoken a word in years.  It's a sad story but no more than any of the others in here.  You can read her notes if you want.'  

Karen looked back at the door.

‘Don’t worry.  She’ll calm down.  Just leave her alone for a while.’

  He led her off towards the office and pulled the notes out of the filing cabinet with a flourish.

'There you go,' he said.  'Makes interesting reading.  Anything else you want to know, just ask.'

Karen gripped the notes in her hand to stop them shaking.  She tried to calm her heartbeat, feeling an idiot for reacting so violently to what was nothing really.  She opened the notes and spread the pages out on the desk in front of her.   

Admission date: nineteen fifty.

'The year I was born,' she thought.

A crash and a cacophony of voices brought herself back to the present.  Hesitating for only a moment, she headed down the long gallery towards the noise.  Linda and Marion were running in the same direction.

'It's Evelyn,' shouted Linda.

As they reached the room, Marion and Linda both flew through the doorway.  Evelyn was screaming whilst Mike and John were wrestling with another woman who was struggling and thrashing at them. Marion immediately grabbed Evelyn from behind and pulled her onto the bed.  Linda held her legs.

'Shut up!' Marion yelled at Evelyn.  'Stop kicking, you bitch!'

Karen stood - paralysed.

'Get out of the way!'  Mike shouted.

Karen leapt out of the way, feeling completely useless as they dragged the other woman into a nearby room.

'Karen,' Mike was shouting at her now.  'Get in here and give us a hand.  Hold onto her while I get the drugs sorted.’

Karen was terrified.  She hesitated for just one moment before taking hold of Gloria’s arm.

'Don't worry,' Mike said.  'Just hold on.  I'll be back in a couple of minutes.'  He was gone before Karen could protest.

John was talking to the woman.  'Now calm down, Gloria,' he said.  'It's alright.'

But it wasn't alright.  Gloria was struggling, kicking at them both and trying to sink her teeth into Karen's arm.  John twisted Gloria’s other arm tighter.  She opened her mouth wide and screamed.  Her legs thrashed out just missing John's groin.  He laughed, jumping backwards, without releasing his strong grip on her.

'You'll do yourself an injury if you keep on like this,' he said.  'Now settle down.'  He was shouting at Karen now. 'Hold on!'  Karen held on.

She was trying to resist the urge to laugh hysterically when Mike returned with a glass syringe, the long needle glinting in the morning sunlight.  Karen's eyes stung as the smell of  Paraldehyde hit her senses. Gloria's struggles returned with a force as she realised what was to come.  

'Marion,' Mike called.  'Get in here and give us a hand.'

Marion appeared in the doorway.

'Hold her down Karen,' he instructed.  'Marion, you take her legs.  Now turn her over so I can get this in.'

Gloria was flipped onto her stomach without ceremony.  Her dress had ridden up to her waist.  Mike pulled her pants down with one hand.  With the other he jabbed the syringe into her buttock and injected the drug into her body without hesitation.  He stood up.

'Don't let her go yet,' he said.  'Just keep her there until the drug kicks in.  I'll be back in a bit.'

The three of them were left holding on to Gloria who'd finally subsided into a sobbing heavy weight, all the fight gone from her.  John was stroking her hair soothingly.

'You'll be alright now, Gloria,' he said.

Marion sucked air through her teeth.  Her face was inches from Karen's as she grinned.  'How do you like it here now, eh?' she laughed.

Karen said nothing.  She was still shaking, wondering what was going to happen next.  Gloria was still half-naked.  'Can't we cover her up a bit?' she finally asked.

'Come on Gloria, let's get you under the covers.'  It was John who helped get her into bed.

Mike's head appeared round the door.

'All settled?' he asked.  'She'll sleep it off in a couple of hours.'

They left the room one at a time, Mike finally locking the door behind them as he stepped back into the corridor.

'You alright?' he asked the others.

'Just need a cuppa,' Marion said.  'I'll make some tea.'  She walked away towards the kitchen.

'Is Evelyn alright?' Karen asked.

'Sure,' Mike said.  'That Gloria has it in for her.  Don't know why, but I told you she was evil, didn't I?'

As they passed Evelyn's room Karen glanced in.  The woman was hunched up on the bed, but as Karen stood there Evelyn looked up and their eyes met.  She stared mutely at Karen, her eyes wide and black.  No flicker of a smile, no emotion showing in her face at all.  Karen shuddered and walked back to the office.

This should keep you going over the weekend.

We should be quite busy this weekend, it's our son's thirteenth birthday early next week!

There has been some excitement in the village over the past couple of weeks.  The post office/shop has finally opened its back room as a tea-room.  This was after much deliberation and negotiating with the powers that be - i.e. The Estate manager and "The Squire" who is our much revered landlord!
On Saturday I decided that it was time to take a look so along a went and sampled their morning coffee and a slice of cake (hand-baked by the baker/proprietor), served by the lovely Paula.  Definitely worth a look and so nice to sit in the middle of the community in a pleasant cafe, passing the time of day with villagers and neighbours.  I wish them all success.
The nearest local Public house - The Golden Lion - have continued with their music evenings.  I spent Friday evening in the pub watching a local band of youngsters - The Hourglass - playing and singing.  A very talented little group.  The lead singer, Chloe, a tiny young woman with a massive voice.  I have been reliably informed that the Goldie will soon be providing afternoon teas at weekends.  Good job too, I think.  You can never have enough places to enjoy a good cup of tea (or coffee).  Just what this village needs.
For more about the lovely place I live - check out a video - The Estate - on Utube -  This was made by some local students from South Downs College and aptly describes life where I live.  One of the producers of this video lives in the heart of the village - as I do.

Now for the next instalment of Caught in the Web ........

Chapter Three

The following day

The dawn was a long time coming.  After Peter had finally left for work, Karen crawled back into bed bruised and exhausted.

She remembered the day the doctors had told her about the goitre.  'Nothing to worry about,' they'd said.  But it had dragged her down by its weight, throbbing painfully when she was tired,  jumbling her thoughts.

'No wonder Peter loses patience with me,' she thought. 

She reached out to the empty place beside her, still warm from his body and couldn't stop the feeling of sorrow washing over her.  She buried her head into his pillow and tried to quell her fears.  

Eventually, she slept.

The sound of the vacuum cleaner penetrated her sleep.  The sun was shining through the net curtains reflecting from the windows of the house opposite.  Karen shook off the momentary confusion, the sounds of milk bottles clinking in the street bringing her back to the familiarity of her own home.  She swung her legs carefully over the edge of the bed, got dressed and made her way down the stairs.  The aroma of toast was wafting up to towards her.

'Morning.'  Margaret appeared at the door of the kitchen.  'How was your first night back in your own bed?  Good to be home, eh?'  She was smiling.

'Lovely, thank you.’

'I've just made some coffee.  Would you like some?' Margaret asked.  'And some toast?'

'Just coffee thanks.'  

Karen sat on the sofa, resting back against the plumped-up cushions, wondering if she could get used to living with Margaret again.  It was nice to be looked after sometimes, but nothing would be the same again.  Not since she'd married Peter.

'You're too young,' her work-mates had all said.  

But Karen had known what she'd wanted.  'You don't know me,' she'd argued.   And she’d drifted away from her few friends one by one.

Margaret was back with the coffee and settling into the armchair opposite.  She took a cigarette from the packet on top of the gas fire and lit it.  Taking a long drag on the cigarette she blew the smoke away from Karen as she spoke.

'Now, you still have to rest but the doctors said you should get fresh air.'

'I'm alright.  You don't have to look after me.'

'Well, I want to,' said Margaret.  'I couldn't forgive myself, leaving you to cope on your own.  It's only for a few days, then you'll be back on your feet.'

'Don’t you have to go to work?'

'Oh, don't worry about that,' Margaret reassured her.  'You're more important to me than the Co-op.'

Karen wiped her eyes.  'I don't know what's up with me,' she said.

'Oh, come on Karen,' said Margaret.  'You've had a difficult couple of years.  You're bound to feel a bit weepy.'

There was a long silence as Karen thought about the past two years.  Margaret was probably right.   

'It's time I started living again,' she smiled.  The trouble was, she felt just like a little girl sometimes.  And she'd thought she was such an adult getting married at twenty.  'Sometimes I wonder what the hell has happened to me,' she said.

'You'll be fine.  Come on, let's go out for a walk.'

They linked arms as they headed towards the park.  The early spring sunshine had brought out the first of the daffodils.  Birdsong competed with children’s voices on the football pitch.  

Margaret wondered to herself what had made her take on this troubled young girl when she was just beginning to enjoy time on her own.  It may have been the memory of herself as a young girl, she guessed, struggling to drag herself into adulthood at Karen’s age.

'She needs a mother figure,' they'd said.  'You could be her last chance.'

It hadn't been easy.  For the first few months Karen had hardly spoken more than a few grunts and her behaviour at school was highlighted by the many letters sent home.  Still, Margaret had persevered, shown her love and gradually the brittle shell around Karen had broken down, piece by piece, revealing a sensitive young woman blossoming within.  When Karen had left school and started working in the insurance office she’d even started making friends with other young people.  Margaret was happy to see her enjoying life at last.  Then Peter had come home from university.  Looking back on that time she admitted to herself that she’d feeling uneasy about him getting together with Karen but she’d said nothing and hoped it would be all for the best in the end.

 

Karen let go of her arm and began walking faster, leaving her behind.

'Hey,' Margaret protested.  'Take it easy.'

Karen laughed as she headed towards the swings.   

'You're not supposed to overdo it,' Margaret called as she hurried after her but Karen was already on the swing, pushing herself back ready for take off.  Margaret watched her swing herself forward and soon she was sailing through the air.

'It's like flying,' she called.

'Come down, Karen,' Margaret shouted. 

Karen just laughed at her and at the sky, the clouds trying to catch her as she swept upwards.

Margaret held her breath.  Finally Karen slowed down until her feet were touching the ground, but as she stepped off the swing, her legs buckled beneath her.  Margaret was immediately by her side.  Karen clung to her.

'Sorry, Margaret.  You were right.  But it was worth it!'  

They staggered slowly home where Karen flopped onto the sofa and slept,  

waking up just long enough to eat her lunch before falling asleep again trying to read a magazine.  

Suddenly it was five o'clock.

'Damn!' Karen struggled to drag herself up from the sofa.

'Alright my dear?' Margaret called from the kitchen.

'I need to get a bath,' said Karen.  'Peter'll be here in a minute.'

'I'll run it for you.’

'I'm fine,' snapped Karen.   Her shoulders slumped.  ‘I'm sorry,‘ she sighed.  ‘You're being great, really.'

'Don't worry,' soothed Margaret.  'I do understand.'

Karen smiled at Peter as he walked in through the door.

'Bloody awful day I've had.'  He brushed his lips briefly across Karen's cheek.  'Hello Mum,' he called through to the kitchen.  'What's for dinner?'

Karen swallowed.  She felt an echo of the pain from the operation as the lump in her throat stuck for a moment.  She took a deep breath and kept smiling.

Peter flopped into the armchair.  

‘Well, what have you been up to?’  he asked, glancing across at Karen.

‘We just went for a short walk to the park this morning.  Margaret’s been great - looking after me.’

‘That’s nice.’  He lit a cigarette.

‘It was good to get out for a bit.  Then I just sat around this afternoon.  But it’s been lovely having Margaret here.’

‘What have you been chatting about then?’

‘Oh, just this and that - you know - women’s talk mostly.’

‘Talking about me I suppose?’  He reached for the ashtray.

‘No - just, general stuff.’  Karen felt her stomach tighten.

‘Dinner’s ready to serve, you two,’ Margaret called from the kitchen.

Peter screwed out the cigarette butt and got up.  He touched Karen’s cheek and smiled at her before turning to leave the room.

'That was lovely,' Karen put her knife and fork together on the empty plate.  'Thanks Margaret.'

'You're welcome,' said Margaret.  'I enjoy cooking.  You know that.'

Peter smiled.  'Yes,' he said.  'It was great.  But, you'll have to get used to cooking again, Karen.  Mum's going home tomorrow.'

'Are you?' she asked.  Margaret had said nothing to her.

'I can stay until the weekend,' Margaret replied.  'There no rush for me to go back.'

'I'm here if Karen needs me and I'm sure you've better things to do.'  He looked at Margaret, then at Karen.

'Peter's right, of course,' said Karen.  'I can manage on my own now.'  She glanced at Margaret.

'Well, if you're sure?' Margaret asked.

Karen avoided meeting her eyes.  'I'm sure,' she said.

Peter stood up.  'That's settled then,' he said.

So that was that.  The next morning came and Margaret was gone.  The house was quiet without her but being on her own gave Karen time to think.

It was easy to have a conversation with Peter in her head.

‘I need to be able to confide in Margaret sometimes,’ she thought.

‘I don’t want you talking to her about us,’ Peter would say.  ‘It’s disrespectful.’

‘It doesn’t mean I don’t love you.’

‘I don’t care,’ he would reply.  ‘You shouldn’t need anyone else but me.’

‘I need to be my own person.’

‘You’re my wife.  We share everything.  We have no secrets.’  He had said that to her more than once.

‘It’s not about secrets,’ she would say.  ‘It’s just about being normal.’

‘You don’t know what normal is,’ he’d retort.  

‘And you do?’ she’d ask.

‘All my friends at work agree with me.’

‘How do you know that if you don’t discuss us with anyone?’

‘Don’t be clever with me,’ he would say.  ‘I know because they tell me about their marriages.’

‘You can’t stop me from having conversations with other people.’

Karen knew that she’d never have the nerve to say such things.  Arguing with Peter was not an option.

She shook herself back to reality.  She remembered the feelings she’d had in the hospital, the admiration she’d felt for the nurses.  She wished she had the courage to do something like that.  Even though her job was still there waiting for her, going back to work in an office was the last thing she wanted to do.  

She spent the next few weeks wandering about the town, looking in shop windows, dreaming about where she might work.  Nothing appealed to her.

‘You don’t need to work,’ Peter said.  ‘We could start a family now that you’re well.’

‘I’m not ready for that yet,’ Karen replied.

‘You could still stay at home.  Be a proper housewife.’

‘I’d be bored staying at home.  I need to be doing something.  I’ll go mad if I don’t have something to do.’

Margaret was shocked.

‘I’ll go mad,’ Karen was saying.

‘I’m sorry love, but you’ve no idea what madness is like.’

Karen looked at Margaret for the first time since she’d walked in the door.

‘I thought you’d understand,’ she said.

The smoke from Margaret’s cigarette spiralled gently to the ceiling.  Margaret looked up at the haze.  She took a long drag and noticed that Karen was watching the tip as it flared into life.

‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said.  ‘Look.  I know your life has been hard in the past, but it’s not so bad now, is it?’

Karen swallowed before answering.  ‘You’re right,’ she sighed.

‘You should never joke about madness,’ Margaret said.  ‘I had a cousin who was a lovely boy - bright - good looking.  Then one day he came off his motorbike.  He was in a coma for two weeks and when he came round they told my auntie that he was brain-damaged.’  She paused.  ‘He came home from hospital for a while and then he just - disappeared.’  

Margaret flicked the ash from her cigarette into the ashtray.  

‘I was only a kid, but I overheard my Auntie talking about him.’

‘How do you mean - he just disappeared?’

‘I think he was sent to Highclere.  But I never heard any more about it.  No-one ever mentioned him again.’

Karen felt the vacuum he must have left.

‘I’ve had a fear of that place ever since.  There were horrible stories about the mad people locked up.  We were scared they’d get out and attack us when we were kids.’

‘It can’t be like that now,’ Karen said.

The rain beat against Karen’s face as she walked towards the shingle beach later that day.  She couldn’t stop thinking about Margaret’s cousin.

The afternoon was dark.  Karen loved the feel of the rain cleansing her.  Despite the weather, the further away from home she walked the lighter she felt.  By the time she’d reached the sea, she was soaked to the skin.

Waves crashed on the shore, smashing the muddy waters onto the shingle, a thousand voices screaming to the gulls.  She sat in a shelter and watched the dancing ocean.  The day was grey - the Isle-of-Wight invisible.  As she stared into the misty horizon the motion of the sea made her sleepy.  She felt safe and warm.  

Perhaps she had actually fallen asleep.  She couldn’t remember afterwards but she was sure that there was someone else there in the shelter.

‘Karen, you’re wasting time.’  The voice was familiar - just a vague impression of someone in a dream.

‘I know,’ Karen whispered.  ‘I wish I knew what to do.’

‘A fresh start in life - do what you really want to do.’

Thoughts were flooding through her head - her own memories of being in hospital churning together with visions of Margaret’s cousin lost forever in Highclere.  And a need to do something important with her life.

Karen started awake.  Suddenly she knew.  It was like someone had pulled open the blinds.

‘A second chance.’  

The sun was shining in the puddles as she began the walk back home.

I've just finished reading The Moment by Douglas Kennedy.  Such a brilliant novel, couldn't wait to read the end and now am in a state of mourning as I've finished it.  About an American Writer who travels to Berlin in the 1980s before the Wall came down.  He falls in love with a woman from the Eastern block.  A tragic story of loss and love.
I remember Germany when it was divided into East and West.  I went to West Germany often to visit my Aunt and Uncle.  Once we travelled to Belson - took my then eight year old son for a day-trip.  One I'll never forget.
Another day we drove to the Iron Curtain and stood and looked across no man's land.  All along the footpath on this side of the high wire fence were crosses marking places where people had died trying to escape from the East.  As we stood watching, two East German guards were patrolling just on the other side of the fence.  They looked at us without smiling.  I felt so sad at the time.
When the wall came down not everyone rejoiced.  I remember seeing it on the news at my Father's house.  He shuddered and said that it was the worse thing that could happen.  I didn't understand at the time but Dad was Polish and I realised later that there were good reasons at the time to divide the country.  At least some people thought so, but having read Douglas Kennedy's novel I can see that there were some very evil people in power in the East.  If you go to Berlin now you'll find little trace of the Wall but it must have been overwhelmingly weird living there when it was still there.  I recommend this as a great read, thought provoking and very real.
Now I am reading Pamela by Samuel Richardson.  Written in England in 1740 - a complete contrast to the above.  I first discovered it when I was studying English Literature a few years ago.  At the time I had so much reading to do that there was not time to indulge myself - but I always promised myself I would read it one day.  So - now I am.  More about that later.

hmm.  Publishing last blog didn't turn out right,  I'll have another go -

It's Saturday morning and raining.  Quite a good time to get on with writing I thought, yet here I am blogging instead of working on the new novel.  For those of you who haven't yet read Caught in the Web - you're probably bored with hearing about it, but I couldn't resist copying all the comments I've had about it on Facebook -



If you are waiting for the next free instalment on this blog, then you'll have to wait until Thursday.

Ah - the sun is shining now - I may just have to go out into the garden for a bit.
I live in a beautiful village in the south of England - about eight miles from the Solent.  The perfect place to live as it's within easy reach of Portsmouth, Southampton, Winchester, and Chichester.  We have a large garden which opens into a water meadow.  There are often deer in the garden - unfortunately they enjoy eating the trees and shrubs.  We have squirrels and many birds.  Pheasants find our garden a sanctuary from the shoots that happen on the "Estate", and we see many kinds of Tits (the bird variety), goldfinches, sparrows, woodpeckers, wagtails, wrens, nuthatches, swallows and house martens to mention just a few.
Opposite our home is the village pub and we spend many an hour there people watching and enjoying a drink.
Tomorrow we're off to Bristol for a quick one night stay.  Celebrating my birthday by exploring a place I've never been before.  Should be fun.

Caught in the Web Chapter two :

Three months earlier

Karen woke up in the dark and wondered where the hell she was.  A prickle of cold fear crept up her spine.  She couldn't move her head - her body was a lump of lead.  Sounds of snoring, then a man shouting gradually seeped into her senses.  A door banging followed by the sound of softly clad feet running towards her down a long hallway only frightened her more.  She tried to turn her head towards the footsteps but any movement was impossible.  Her throat constricted in pain.  She gave up, closed her eyes, and waited. 

Urgent voices from across the room made her open them again.  She could see more clearly this time - a hospital bed with two men in white uniforms attending to the patient who was covered in blood.  Karen watched in horror as the attendants tried to push tubes into the man's nostrils, their voices fluctuating from soft encouragement to urgent commands.

She felt sick.  There were tubes protruding from her own neck, a drip attached to her left arm and a tube between her legs.  Every part of her body was sore.

One of the attendants moved towards her.

'Hello, Karen.  How are you feeling?'  She couldn't move.  All her energy had been sucked out of her.

'Ghuuu, uhh.'  She couldn’t speak.  It was as though someone had poured acid into her throat.  She closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears. 

'It's alright love,' he said.  'You're back on the ward.  I'll get you something for the pain.'  He moved away, his soft shoes squeaking on the polished floor.  He was lying of course.  This wasn't the ward Karen knew.  She had never felt so alone.

Soon he was back with a syringe, which was to take her into oblivion once more.

'There you go, my love.'  

But she had already gone.

No pain, just free-floating, her body weightless.

'Don't go,' a voice in her head whispered.

'I don't want to.'  Karen was sure of that.  No more pain, no more struggling.  'I can't go back.'  

She looked around for help but the light was blinding.  She closed her eyes and drifted in a warm sea of contentment.

Sensing she wasn't alone, she shaded her eyes and tried to look about her again.  Standing before her was a woman - a stranger yet somehow familiar.  The woman smiled sadly at Karen and reached towards her.  She held Karen's face and gazed into her eyes.  Karen smiled, a deep feeling of love in her heart.

'Must be the drugs,' the voice in her head insisted.

'Go away.'  Karen wanted the voice to stop.  But the darkness was pulling her back, dragging her along a tunnel.  The feeling of wellbeing was slipping away.  There were no more thoughts.  Confusion and that familiar cruel pain emanated throughout her whole body, peaking every time she swallowed.  She tried not to swallow, but dribbling or choking were the only alternatives and she couldn't move her arms to wipe her face.

Someone else was there the next time she opened her eyes.  Daylight now, she could see clearly the bed opposite, the man still trying to wrench the tubes from his body.  

'Well, Karen, how are you today?'  A familiar voice spoke to her.  It took her a while to remember it was the anaesthetist.  'You certainly gave us all a fright back there.'

Karen was dumbstruck.  Even moving her head a fraction to the right where he sat was impossible.  So she just let him talk.  Afterwards she could only recall him saying that she'd given him a fright.

She remembered the nurses on the ward, with their fancy frilly caps and lovely purple dresses.  The doctors had all smiled at her and said that it was just a routine operation.  She'd wake up in her own bed in the ward in a few hours.  'All empty promises,' she thought bitterly as the anaesthetist's voice droned on.  The urge to be sick was overwhelming.  As he tried to soothe her with his words, Karen vomited them back at him across the counterpane.  A nurse appeared as he made his excuses and left Karen to be cleaned up.

'You'll be alright.  It's only the Pethidine,' the nurse reassured her.  'We'll get you cleaned up, and I'll see about a drink.'

Breathing in the soft-cotton perfume of the nurse as she was bundled to and fro,  Karen was overwhelmed with a deep-rooted memory which was tinged with a sadness that she couldn't fathom.  

Finally slipping into a stupor of complete exhaustion, Karen forgot about the promised drink but the nurse was soon back, this time with a plastic mug fitted with a spout.

'It's tea,' she said.  'Nice and sweet.'

Karen tried to sip at the spout.  As soon as the liquid was in her mouth she had little choice.  Swallow or spit it out?  She swallowed.  It was too much. 

'I can't,' she whispered.

'Never mind,' the nurse was saying.  'We'll try again later.  I'll get you something for the pain.'  She was soon back with another syringe of that heavenly concoction which took Karen away into the safety of her dreamworld.

It seemed a lifetime later that Margaret’s voice stirred her back to reluctant reality.

Margaret was something more than just a mother-in-law to Karen - an oasis in the desert of her life.

Karen was damaged goods.  She’d always known that.  Dumped at birth, unwanted wherever she went.  There was no doubt about it - she was bad.  They’d told her enough times and she’d always lived up to everyone’s expectations.  She had few friends at school, trusting no-one and no-one liking her very much.  It was better to hurt others first before they hurt you. When she finally landed on Margaret's doorstep she hardly cared any more.   She was fourteen and couldn't wait to grow up and get her own place.  But Margaret had taken her time - nothing seemed to bother her - and piece by piece Karen had let down the wall she’d built to protect herself.

Peter’s photo was on the mantlepiece in the cosy front room of Margaret’s house.  It was the first thing she’d spotted on the day she moved in.  Margaret had noticed her looking at it and had taken up the picture and smiled.

‘My son,’ she’d said.

Karen heard the pride in her voice and felt a stab of jealousy.

‘He’s at university.  He’ll be an accountant one day.’  Margaret polished the glass with her sleeve and carefully placed it back on the shelf.

Not for the first time in her life Karen had wondered what it would be like to be loved like that.

When he came home at the end of the year, he’d more or less ignored her, going out with his friends, coming in late, and when he was in she often heard him arguing with Margaret.  Karen stayed out of his way, feeling awkward every time they met, either in the hallway or in the tiny kitchen where he’d dash to make a coffee or grab a sandwich on his way to something more important.  She was obviously just a nuisance to him, so she’d stayed in her room as much as she could and tried to avoid the embarrassment of being in his space. 

The cloud that hung over the house lifted whenever he went back at the end of the summer although Margaret would never say a bad word about him even when Karen found her in tears at the kitchen table after he’d stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

‘He’s a good boy really,’ she’d say.  ‘It must be hard for him - all that studying he has to do.  It can’t have been easy for him - coming home to two women.’

Whatever Karen thought, she said nothing.  No point really.  She would always be the outsider and guessed that the tension was probably her fault.

Then Peter had moved back in.  His car was stuffed with three years worth of boxes and baggage which soon cluttered the small hallway.  The aroma of roast beef wafted through the house, Margaret’s welcome-home meal for the prodigal son.

Karen already half-hated him.  She hated the way he kept hurting Margaret.  She even hated maths - so why would she like a man whose head was full of numbers.  When she eventually came down the stairs from her room she glowered down at him.  Then he looked up at her with those piercing blue eyes.  The slight frown on his face broke into a wide smile.   

‘Hello gorgeous.’  He sounded surprised.  

Karen had felt her face burning and wondered whether she could just disappear but he’d turned away and gone into the dining room with the box of books he’d been carrying.

Over the next few days Karen tried to stay out of his way but he seemed to be there whenever she sat down to breakfast.  She’d creep into the kitchen to make herself a coffee and he’d appear at the door, smiling at her.

‘I can’t believe how you’ve grown up,’ he said.

Karen said nothing and hurried from the room, spilling her coffee on the way.

But Peter was persistent in his wooing and charmed her into feeling that she really was beautiful - like the ugly duckling into a swan story.  What girl could resist such flattery?  He wasn’t bad looking - he made her feel special in every way.  And Margaret was happy.

Less than four years later they were married.  But Karen’s dream of living in her own home was not quite as she’d imagined.

She opened her eyes as Margaret stooped to kiss her cheek.

'Peter sends his love.'  Margaret said.  'He had to work late tonight.'

Karen closed her eyes again, hoping that Margaret would go away and just leave her alone.  She was so tired.  But the older woman’s voice rambled on endlessly.  Eventually the bell rang.

'Oh, that'll be the bell,' said Margaret regretfully.  'I have to go now, but Peter's coming tomorrow.  Take care won't you?'

Karen heard her footsteps retreating down the ward, followed by the rattle of the tea trolley.  

She shuddered.

Day and night blurred together.   She couldn't work out how long she'd been there, but it was probably only twenty four hours later that Peter was walking into the ward clutching a bunch of daffodils.

'How's my girl, then?'  He grinned.

Karen's heart flipped a little.

'It's been hell at work this week.  All this couldn't have come at a worse time.'  He paused.  'Still, you're OK now, eh?'

'Yes, I'm fine.'  Karen smiled.  

'When are you getting out of here?'  He frowned as he looked around the room.  'Hey, they've got men in here.' 

'It's intensive care.'  Karen justified.  ‘A mixed ward.’

'Well they've made a right mess of you.’

Karen kept smiling.  'Don't worry, I'll soon be back to normal.'

'Good girl.'

'How are things at home?' she asked.

'Eh? Oh, I haven't been in much,' he said.  'Actually, sorry love, I'll have to be going in a bit.  I’m meeting up with Dave and Andy.'

Karen's smile slipped.

'It’s work my love,' he said.

'Of course.  I'm sorry.'

'Don't be daft,' he laughed.  'Just hurry up and get better.  Look, I'd better get going.'

'Don't go yet,' Karen said.  'I've missed you.'

'Well I miss you too my darling.  I'll come tomorrow, same time.'

'I do look forward to seeing you.'

'Of course.'  Peter leaned towards her and kissed her on the forehead.  'Oh, damn.  I can't come tomorrow.  I need to work late.'  He stood up.  'See you soon then,' he added and was gone.

When the nurse bustled down the ward half an hour later, Karen called her over to her bedside.

'Can you get the mirror from my locker please.'  She needed to see why Peter was in such a hurry to leave. 

  The nurse hesitated.

'You've had a difficult operation, but you will heal.  It'll just take a bit of time.'  ‘I know - just let me have the mirror, please.’

A stranger looked back at her with tired eyes.  The hair framing her bloated face was lank and greasy.  At the base of her neck metal clamps held together the wide gash with two drainage tubes protruding from each end of the wound.  Karen was shocked.

'You will get better, you know.'  The nurse tried to re-assure Karen.  ‘Your face will soon be back to normal.'

‘Will it?’

'Look,' the nurse went on.  'I've brought you a nice cup of Horlicks.  Please try a little and then we can see about getting you off that drip.'

She thrust the beaker close to Karen’s lips.  There was no escape.  Karen sucked at the spout and swallowed, then forced herself to take another mouthful.  Soon she'd managed half a beaker of the sweet, thick liquid.

'Good girl, that's the way.'  The nurse ticked the clip-board at the foot of the bed.  'Now I think it's time we took the catheter out and got you using a bedpan.  The sooner the better, eh?'

Karen smiled her consent, too tired to argue any more.

The nurse was right, of course.  In a few days she was on her way home in a taxi with Margaret.  Peter hadn't been to see her again - his work, Margaret explained - but Karen hoped things would be different when he saw she was back to normal.  Although she was still tired, the wound was getting better and the clamps would soon be out.    

She was resting on the sofa when Peter came in, the aroma of cooking wafting in from the kitchen.  As soon as she heard the door, Karen's stomach tightened as she jumped up.  She smoothed down her skirt and brightened her face into a smile.

'Hello darling.'  She said.

'Wow!  You look great.'  Peter's arms were around her as he kissed her. 'Can't wait for later,' he whispered.

'What's for dinner, Mum?' he called to Margaret, and went through to the sitting room.

Karen sighed.  

After Margaret had gone up to the little spare room later that evening,  Karen was exhausted and just wanted to crawl into bed to sleep.  But Peter had other ideas.

'You go on up, I'll be there in a while,' he said.  'I've just got some figures to look at for tomorrow. 

She was in a deep sleep by the time he came to bed.  She'd tried to stay awake, looking at the clock every five minutes: eleven o'clock, five past, ten past, then drifting off, waking at midnight, ten past, one o'clock.  It was two in the morning by the time he finally got in beside her, shaking her awake.  She knew that the easiest way to get back to sleep was to give in although he wanted more than just her passive consent.

'Kiss me.  Hold me like you mean it,' he pleaded.  'What's the matter with you?  Say you love me.'

'I love you.'  She kissed him, painfully easing herself so that she was lying over him, beginning to move in the way he expected.  He was not aroused.  

‘Make me want you,’ he moaned.

More later.....