Fiction Month 3

In Part 3 of Chalet Concerto Angela hears Anne’s grim story and makes a momentous decision…

Chalet Concerto Part 3

     ‘Not then; I stuck it out for months. I didn’t want to leave our son’s home because he still needed it-and needed me in it during his leave from Sandhurst. And I had no income. It sounds pathetic, doesn’t it? There was money for housekeeping, but I couldn’t use it to fund a deposit and rent for a flat. And my husband was past discussing anything, let alone my departure.
Then two days ago he turned up at one am demanding a meal. I got up and made an omelette and a salad, which was all there was. I poured him some wine. He was unhappy about the food and became aggressive, throwing the wine glass at the wall. He told me I must move into the spare bedroom to sleep because he’d be bringing his new wife to live with us. I remained calm and I asked him how it was possible to have a new wife when polygamy is illegal. He stood up and shouted that he could do what he liked. He took hold of my shoulders and…’
She stopped to wipe her eyes with the shreds of tissue and I handed her the box.       ‘What did he do?’ I whispered.
‘He threw me against the door, hitting my head. I think I passed out because after a while I seemed to be on the floor and he was nowhere to be seen. I pulled myself up, went to the bedroom and packed a case. I gathered all the money I could and rang for a taxi to go to the station, then I sat on a bench until the morning trains started running. I looked at the destinations and chose one. I didn’t want to use a hotel as he’d be more likely to find me, also I don’t have much cash. I thought the holiday park would be anonymous-and cheaper. And then you found me.’
I sat back. ‘Anne, this is a terrible story. You must go to the police. He may be your husband but nowadays they have to take this kind of abuse seriously. And your head should be looked at. You need to see a doctor!’
She leaned towards me, her face pale, her eyes wide. ‘No! No Angela! I can’t do that. Please! I can’t tell them. Please say you won’t tell anyone!’
Her abrupt show of terror shocked me. ‘Alright, but there must be someone you can go to? Have you no family? What about your son?’
She shook her head. ‘No! I don’t want him to know.’
‘Have you no brothers or sisters? Friends? Someone you can call?’
‘I do have one sister.’
‘Why don’t you call her?
‘I…I don’t have a phone, Angela.’
‘No phone? Why? Didn’t he allow you one?’ She blinked and hung her head. ‘Well I have a phone. Do you know your sister’s number?’
She nodded. I went to get my phone and dialled the number, then handed the phone to Anne. I picked up the wine glasses and went indoors to spare her embarrassment, waiting until the murmur of her voice stopped before I returned.
The phone was on the table. She looked up at me. ‘My sister is at home, in Gravesend. I can go there. I just need to get to the station…’
‘Wait.’ I considered for a moment, chewing my lip. I’d had two glasses of wine but I was compos mentis enough to drive, I was sure of it. ‘Go and pack, Anne. I’ll scribble a little note for Dave and I can take you there. It’s not that far is it? Only an hour or so.’
She looked up at me, the tip of her nose still red. ‘You are kind to offer, Angela but I can’t ask you to do any more for me.’
‘You didn’t ask, did you? I offered. Go on-go and get packed. We’ll stop at the site office on the way out. The one night shouldn’t cost much. I’ve been coming here long enough to persuade Irene to let you off a week’s stay!’
Twenty minutes later we were on the road to Gravesend, with Anne’s sister’s address in the Satnav. I imagined I’d could be there and back before Dave returned from the clubhouse bar and we could go up and get a meal there because it was ‘curry and a pint’ on Thursday nights.
The drive went smoothly but she didn’t talk much, just rested her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes. I thought she must be exhausted, after all she’d been through so it didn’t surprise me. We got to the outskirts of the town and into a residential area. Blayden Lane, that’s where the house was-a small bungalow, nothing posh. When I pulled up Anne opened her eyes, sat up straight, said she could not thank me enough for all I’d done and got out. I said to wait while I gave her our phone number and address in case she needed anything but she went to the boot, got her case out and said goodbye. I said I’d wait to see she got in safe but she didn’t seem to want me to. She said to go on back and enjoy the rest of my holiday. Then she said a strange thing. She said, ‘Forget you ever met me, Angela.’ So I started the engine and drove back here, to the holiday park.

Check in to Anecdotage next week for the twisting conclusion of the story…

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History Lessons

What will be said, in the future, about the events of the twenty first century?

We still read, write and discuss wars and atrocities of the past. It is constantly said that the ghastly horrors of The Holocaust should never be allowed to happen again. We think that we’ve made progress and we’ve moved on. There are historical novels detailing civil wars, world wars, unspeakable acts perpetrated by countries against others, individuals against their own nations, extremist religious groups against innocent fellow countrymen, random acts of cruelty and subjugation. Movies are made-sometimes heroic, sometimes merely grisly.

Getting towards the later part of life leads to a lot of reflection, which can be irritating for younger generations but is inevitable. They’ll be doing it, too when the time comes.

I remember how horrified and frightened my mother was at the end of her life by the news that an Australian nurse working in Saudi Arabia had received the punitive sentence of some extreme number of lashes. It was more than twenty years ago. Supposing she were around today to learn that dozens of children and teenagers have had their lives and the lives of their families destroyed by a random, pointless deed?

I also remember that Offspring 2 was at uni in London during the events of the July 2007 tube and bus bombings. I was at work on that day and only discovered during a coffee break that the atrocity had occurred. I remember the feeling of terror and foreboding as I tried to reach her by phone and the powerful waves of relief as I finally heard her voice. She’d missed the events by an eyelash, returning to fetch forgotten keys and then attempting to catch a later train. She was stranded but alive. It seemed all that mattered then.

How easy it is to say, ‘We will not be cowed. We will not be threatened and forced to change how we live!’ These are the words of those untouched by the violence and loss.

But the lives of those whose children or parents are lost or maimed have been changed for ever.

There is less of my life in front than behind now. My concerns are more for those generations below mine; with how their lives will pan out and a part of me wants to know how it will be for them in the future. Looking at history in terms of human nature I think it unlikely that there will ever be true ‘peace on Earth’. More probable is the likelihood that climate change will have escalated and usurped human nature in terms of threats.

But what will be learned in history? Because the world seems incapable of learning anything from history so far…

 

The Big Why

The World events of the last forty eight hours have been a grim catalogue of horrific, grisly and incomprehensible acts that leave those of us who’ve been informed by TV news, radio or newspapers reeling in disbelief and repulsion.

Worse, it is becoming clear that actions by some nations [my own included] to remove what were seen as despotic dictators have actually paved the way for zealots and terrorists to take over-the new version of al Qaeda, but in even more aggressive and unspeakably callous form.

Now, however that the genie is out of the bottle, what is to be done?

Would it help to know what it is IS really wants? In an effort to attempt to understand this I Googled the question. One disquieting discovery is that there is a commitment amongst the terrorists to ‘expand their territory’. They are also, apparently set on provoking a ‘war to end all wars’, to which end they do seem to be marching irrevocably on.

Reading an article recently by a woman posing as one with ambitions to join IS it transpires that young Moslem women and girls who are fleeing to join the ‘Caliphate’ are set on becoming part of what is seen as ‘Utopia’. Now I have my own ideas about what constitutes ‘Utopia’, but it isn’t recognisable in the twisted, repressive and brutal regime of the jihadists. Here is Wikipedia’s version:

“A utopia (/juːˈtoʊpiə/ yoo-toh-pee-ə) is a community or society possessing highly desirable or near perfect qualities.”

So an IS run state, to these girls is a community possessing highly desirable or near perfect qualities. What then, to the girls, are these qualities? Piety and following their faith seem to be at the heart of them. When asked about their attitudes towards the committing of atrocities their responses were shrugging acceptance or even condonation. A number of the women have small children. It is difficult to understand how they can accept and even believe in terrorist acts while caring for their own children. It is easier to view murderous bombers and beheaders as marauding male-dominated bands who’ve become de-humanised through a lack of family life and values.

More-life for a woman in IS territory is at best tyrannical and oppressive, at worst dangerous and brutal. Their children will grow up seeing atrocity piled upon atrocity until, inevitably, they follow the same track, even perhaps becoming suicide bombers. Utopia? Not as I think of it.

According to one analyst IS will continue spreading poisonous tentacles and gathering personnel and momentum until poverty and deprivation prompt disenchantment, but he also suggests this will take a very long time. In the meantime some way has to be found to deal with the relentless and horrific acts of violence that this scourge of our age is hell bent on pursuing.

America and Europe currently have no appetite for the all-out war IS allegedly wants. There are no answers, only questions…oh…and hope. In the midst of all the despair and hatred, what is left can only be hope.