Hello, friends. Today, I started writing the first episode of The Whimsical Life, and I hope to share it with you soon.
I'm still thinking about how I will host the podcast (the audio itself), but I do know I will upload transcripts of each episode here at the same time.
Hello, again, my friends. I've just finished writing the first episode. I hope to record it soon, so that I can share it with you all.
I think I've settled on a platform for hosting the audio, but we'll see. If you're a podcaster or podficcer, please let me know if there's a platform you recommend I use. Thank you!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Hello, friends. Today, I started writing the first episode of The Whimsical Life, and I hope to share it with you soon.
I'm still thinking about how I will host the podcast (the audio itself), but I do know I will upload transcripts of each episode here at the same time.
One resident makes a horrifying discovery, and Tracy is on a mission to bring the community together.
āBut what were you and Alistair doing in the car?ā Paul repeated, āI checked the records, Mum! There was no emergency call-out that night! You lied! So what was the real reason?ā He threw his hands into the air. āWhy were you and Alistair on the same road, driving, as Dad was on, cycling?ā
Denise stared down at the paperwork spread across the table between them. Sheād barely spoken a single word since the accident that had killed John, and the way Paul was bombarding her with questions wasnāt helping. There was a lump in her throat the size of Lakey Hill, and trying to talk made it bigger.
So, she just shook her head, and looked at all the life insurance documents, Johnās simple will (everything would have gone to her automatically anyway, but heād put it all in writing, as heād said, āTo make it easier for you, if the worst happens,ā) and a brochure for a direct cremation service.
āMum!ā Paul exclaimed, āCanāt you just say something? Donāt I have a right to know why my Dad died?ā
āI canāt⦠explain it,ā Denise managed to force out, āI justā¦ā She trailed off. Hung her head, in shame and guilt and regret and⦠and something else she darednāt name. She wouldnāt even let herself think the word⦠relief?
Because what did that make her?
Paul sighed loudly, harshly, angrily, before turning on his heel and flouncing out of the kitchen. āForget it! Not like anyone tells me anything, anyway!ā He stomped up the stairs to the spare bedroom, and threw himself down on the futon with a clang.
Honestly, he was starting to think his mother really did have something to hide.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Meanwhile, at The Bull, Jazzer McCreary was making his way from table to table with a clean, dry pint glass.
āAre ye going to give something, Prof?ā he asked Jim Lloyd, who had settled in at the bar with a newspaper, a glass of red, and a bowl of salted peanuts.
āIs this for young Martha?ā Jim asked, digging in his pocket, and pulling out his wallet.
Jazzer smiled sadly. āAye, it is. Traceās idea, to try anā ease the burden on the wee lassā family. God knows itās never easy to cover the costs when someone ye love dies, butāā
āBut when itās one so young, the pain is unbearable,ā Jim finished, plucking all the notes out of his wallet, and pushing them into the jar. āI understand. Anything I can do to help.ā
Jazzer clapped him on the shoulder. āThanks, Prof.ā Then, he stepped a little closer, lowered his voice, and added, āAnā howās Alistair holding up?ā
Jim shook his head. āI wish I knew. He wakes up, he showers and dresses, he goes to work, he comes home, and he tells me about his day. But, honestly, Jazzer, itās like listening to him read his medical notes. Thereās no emotion in his words, whatsoever. And his eyes! His eyes are just⦠empty. No life in them, and he hasnāt looked right at me since the car accident. Itās as if thereās a spot over my shoulder, taking all his attention.ā
āThe thousand-yard stare, aye, Iāve heard of it,ā Jazzer said, āItās what soldiers get, isnāt it, when they come hame.ā
āYes,ā Jim said, āI just wish there were something I could do for him, something to help him talk. Between you and me, Jazzer, Iām worried this will bring his gambling problem back.ā Jimās eyes were wet, but Jazzer politely pretended not to notice.
āJust be there for him, I would,ā Jazzer said, āHeāll talk to you when heās ready. Youāre his Dad. Heāll talk to you. And⦠er⦠do the police want to talk to him?ā
Jim sighed. āThankfully not. He had his dashboard camera running. He was going at the right speed, he was on his own side of the road, and he called an ambulance straight away. It seems that he did everything right, everything he ought to have done. Just a terrible, terrible accident; the police say Mr Mack lost control of his bicycle a moment before the collision, and that was it.ā He shook his head, staring contemplatively into his wine. āSo tragic. So awfully tragic.ā
āAye, itās been a horrible week in Ambridge,ā Jazzer said, āIām just hoping the worst is over.ā
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Paul heard his mother go into the downstairs bathroom and start the shower running. So, she wasnāt coming up to talk to him about the real reason she and Alistair Lloyd had been out together that night.
That night⦠when heād had to go home on his own, and put the prepared lasagne in the oven himself, and wait for his parents to get in⦠and wait⦠and wait⦠until, finally, heād called them, to find out where they were.
No answer from his Dad. And his Mumās phone had gone straight to voicemail, again and again, until the smoke alarm had started yelling about burning lasagne.
And then - as he was pulling the smoking remains of family dinner out of the oven, and dropping it into the sink - his phone had rung, and his Mum had told him the awful news.
āYour Dadās been in an accident.ā
That was how sheād phrased it at first; well over a minute passed before she explained that sheād also been involved.
And, days later, she still hadnāt bloody told him why!
Paul groaned. If it had been the other way around, if his Dad had been in the car, and his Mum had been on her bike - not that she ever got it out of the shed - there would have been no need to ask: his Dad would have told him the whole truth at once.
But, of course, his Dad wasnāt there to tell him anything anymore.
Mumās phone, Paul thought to himself, Mumās phone was bound to have some answers, though.
He slipped downstairs and dug through her handbag, holding the phone up to her driving licence until it recognised her face and unlocked.
Paul checked the shower was still running - it was - and then he started looking through his Mumās texts.
She had received dozes of messages over the last few days - and no wonder, with so many friends and relatives sending their condolences - but she hadnāt sent a since once since the day of the crash. A few hours beforehand, in fact.
And sheād sent it to Alistair: āCanāt wait for our little getaway, xxxx.ā
Paul dropped the phone like it had burned his hands. āNo!ā he breathed, desperately hoping heād misunderstood. But, when he picked the phone back up off the floor, the message was still there, along with a string of others, most of them even more damning than plans for a , āgetaway.ā
āOh, God, oh, God, oh, God,ā Paul whispered, pressing, āBack,ā until he was on the home screen before locking his Mumās phone again and dropping it into her bag.
He felt sick. He had to run. Couldnāt stay at her house for one more minute.
And to think heād come to stay, so that he could look after her in her grief! What grief? She was probably glad!
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Back at The Bull, Tracy spotted George approaching the bar, and smiled brightly at him. She was doing her best to smile recently. God knew it werenāt easy, but someone had to bring a bit of light into the world as it was right now. Why not her? āEvening, Georgie, what can I get you?ā
āNah, Iām not really here for a drink, Auntie Trace.,ā he mumbled, leaning across the beer-damp bar top. āI heard you and Jazzer are raising money for Marthaās funeral.ā
āYeah, heās going round with one jar, and Iāve got the other, here,ā Tracy replied, picking it up from behind the bar and giving it a shake. Notes muffled the jangle of coins. āAnd you donāt need to call me Auntie; itās just Trace.ā
And she certainly werenāt old enough to be a great aunt, she thought.
George managed a smile, but Tracy didnāt think his heart were in it. āI was wondering if,ā and now he lowered his voice, āIf there was anywhere I could give more than like a couple of quid. Moreān Iāve got on me.ā
Tracy blinked. āYou mean like a lot?ā she said, glancing round the bar in case they was overheard.
George nodded. āIāve got money from the Bartleby videos, and⦠well, it seems right, you know? āCause Martha loved horses, and⦠well, it aināt like Iām gonna go to uni or anything, so, like⦠what am I gonna spend it on thatās better than⦠trynna do something nice?ā
Tracy didnāt think sheād every heard George say anything about wanting to be, ānice,ā before, specially when it came to money. Wasnāt it George that had stolen from the church collection plate? Yeah, thatād been a while ago, but he hadnāt got better since. There was all the trouble heād got Brad into, and the way heād treated Hannah, and Helen, and how heād messed Chelse around with that bloody guinea pigā¦
She narrowed her eyes at him. āThisād better not be one of your, āGrundy schemes,ā Georgie. Thereās a time anā a place.ā
At least George had the decency not to look offended. Obviously, he knew what Tracy meant. You couldnāt live in Ambridge and not know what reputation the Grundys had. They were thrifty to a fault, notorious for running cons that probably took more work and earned them less money than proper jobs. Trace had never really understood what her niece, Emma - Georgeās Mum - had seen in either of the Grundy brothers⦠but, then again, her Jazzer didnāt have the best record, either, and Tracy loved him.
But George just looked⦠ashamed?
Tracy werenāt sure; sheād never seen him do that before. Was that what he looked like when he felt guilty?
He shook his head. āNo, Auntie⦠No, Tracy. I mean it. I wanna help. I know Iāve been⦠Well, I havenāt been a good person, lately, and I wanna make up for it. Whatever way I can. And this⦠Maybe itās a good start.ā
His eyes was wet, Tracy noticed, and he couldnāt seem to look at her.
āOK,ā she said, āProbably a chequeās the best way. Have you got a cheque book?ā
George looked at her like she was speaking another language. āYou what?ā
āFor your bank,ā Tracy said⦠but Georgie obviously wasnāt getting it. āItās fine. Brad and Chelse havenāt got āem, either. Maybe youāre better off asking for Chrisā bank details. Or ask if heās got one of those payment app things.ā
George nodded. āThanks, Tracy,ā he said. He took out his wallet and added a twenty-pound note to the jar. āThatās all Iāve got on me right now.ā
āWhatās all this, then, Georgie?ā A large, grubby man slid onto the barstool next to George.
āOh, hi, Grandad. I was talking to Auntie Tracy about Marthaās funeral fund.ā
āOh, right, that,ā said his Grandad.
There was only a few men in Ambridge what looked - or smelt - like Eddie Grundy, and Tracyās Dad, Bert, was one of them. Whenever she left for her shift at The Bull, Tracy always hoped her Dad would hang around at home for a bit before following her, soās sheād get a break from the stench of stale sweat and failing aftershave⦠and hoped she wouldnāt have to serve Eddie Grundy in the meantime.
Trace held the jar out to Eddie, not expecting him to make a donation, but still doing her bit to encourage him.
And, sadly, her prediction was right.
Eddie sniffed the air, and shook his head. āNot sure why weāre havinā a whip-round for Martha, of all people.ā
āGranddad!ā George exclaimed, āShe were just a little kid!ā
āI aināt sayinā it aināt sad!ā Eddie protested, holding his hands up, āBut youāve gotta wonder why her Granddad aināt payinā for her to have a proper funeral, hisself. Brian Aldridge aināt short of a bob or--ā
āAll right,ā Tracy said, putting the jar away before Eddie could go off on one of his rants, āNobodyās making you give anything. Just, the jarās there if you want to make a contribution.ā
āUncle Chris aināt exactly made of money, though,ā George pointed out, āAnd this has come out of, like, nowhere for him. Even if he can get some help from Brian, why shouldnāt his neighbours chip in a bit, if they want, to help give Martha a proper goodbye? Isnāt that what, ācommunity,ā is about? People helping each other?ā
āMaybe so,ā Eddie said, āBut I donāt remember anyone, āchipping in,ā to help with funeral costs for me Dad when he passed away, God rest his soul. No, we Grundys had to pay for all that usselves. Meanwhile, the likes of Brian Aldridge gets handouts from the, ācommunity,ā yeah⦠I know how it isā¦ā He got up and lumbered away, the pint heād been nursing for the last hour sloshing around in a half-empty glass.
George had been holding his breath, and now Tracy heard him let it out slowly. āSorry about āim,ā he mumbled.
Tracy gave him another odd look. He really wasnāt hisself. Obviously, everyone in Ambridge was shaken up by what had happened, but⦠even so⦠Georgie werenāt Georgie this evening.
She pulled him a pint. āHere,ā she said, āHave this one on me.ā She dug into her pocket for coins as she held the glass out to him. āAnd you know⦠if thereās anything you want to talk about⦠Iām here to listen.ā
George looked like talking were the last thing he wanted to do, but he gave Tracy a weak smile, and accepted the drink all the same. āThanks, Trace.ā
āAny time,ā she said, trying to give him a reassuring smile. āAnd⦠what you told me just now⦠thatās really generous of you. Iām sure your Mumāll be proud.ā
George swallowed hard, and new tears came to his eyes. āDonāt tell her, please. Or anyone else. āSpecially my family. Donāt want Granddad finding out.ā
Solemnly, Tracy nodded. āSay no more,ā she said, āI wonāt tell a soul.ā She leaned in a little closer. āIt is really kind of you, though, Georgie. Youāre a good lad, deep down.ā
āāScuse me,ā George said, his voice cracking as he got up from his barstool. He turned and headed out to the garden at a pace Tracyād only seen in people about to cry.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Lily was cooking supper at The Stables when Paul opened the front door. She jumped at the sound of his key in the lock, but did her best sympathetic smile when she saw that it was him.
āPaul!ā she said, āHow are you? I thought you were staying with your Mum⦠until⦠until, you knowā¦ā She lowered her voice. āAfter the funeral?ā
(Sheād quite enjoyed having one less person in the flat⦠but Paul did have every right to be there, she supposedā¦)
Paul shook his head. āCouldnāt stay there another minute,ā he declared, flinging himself down on the sofa.
Lily turned around and pretended to stir the pan of chilli, so that she could widen her eyes without Paul seeing. āReally? Whyās that?ā (āI mean,ā she thought, āI know everyone responds differently to death, but, when my Dad died, I didnāt want to be away from Mum for a moment.ā)
āShe was cheating on him!ā Paul exclaimed, digging his fingers into his hair, āI mean, can you believe that? She was cheating on him with Alistair!ā
Now, Lily couldnāt hide her surprise⦠and it wasnāt easy to hide her curiosity, either. āAlistair Lloyd?ā she said.
āDo you know another Alistair?ā Paul said, āMore to the point, does my Mum know another Alistair? No, ācause she spends all her time with him, at work. Sheās always out on emergency calls with him, always racking up the overtime. At least, thatās been her excuse. Obviously, sheās beenāā
āHooking up with her boss,ā Lily finished, grimacing. āYikes.ā
āDonāt!ā Paul yelled, clapping his hands over his ears and shuddering. āEven the thought of them talking to each other now isāā
āSorry, yes, of course it is,ā Lily crooned, sitting on the arm of the sofa and putting her arm around him. There was a pulling feeling in her chest, as though a string were attached to her sternum, and she knew what it was: the need to find out everything Paul could tell her⦠and then some. Sheād never say so, of course ā she was better than that ā but it was like something out of a soap opera. And it felt⦠good⦠in some ways⦠to know that she wasnāt the only one whoād lost a father so suddenly. āHow did you find out?ā
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
There were half a dozen picnic benches in The Bullās garden, but George hadnāt taken a seat at any of them. He could have done ā it was a misty, chilly evening, and it felt like it wanted to rain, so he was the only one out there ā but he was leaning against the fence on the far edge, looking out over the fields as he drank his beer.
It was Chelsea who spotted him, as she stepped out for a quick vape.
He was barely visible ā older eyes might not have caught him, Chelse thought ā in his black hoodie and black trackie bums, but sheād have known that hunched figure anywhere.
And sheād seen him hurry out of the bar like there was something wrong.
So she picked her way across the damp grass, hoping Kenton and Jolene wouldnāt trace any pockmarks back to her Barbie-pink stilettos in the morning.
āWotcher, George,ā she said, blowing a cloud of white vapour over her shoulder as she approached him. He wasnāt her favourite person in the world, but she wasnāt mean enough to blow strawberry vape in his face.
āHiya, Chelse,ā George mumbled, not meeting her eye. His voice sounded thick, like Bradās did when he had hay fever, but Chelsea got the feeling that maybe George didnāt. Just somehow.
āAre you OK?ā she asked, but he didnāt answer. So she tried to change the subject, in case that was all he needed. āMum says the fundraiserās going really well. Over a grand so far. That should help Chris.ā
George still didnāt say anything. But Chelsea heard him gulp.
āItās so sad,ā Chelsea said, offering him a go on her vape, but getting only a shaken head in response. āI cut Marthaās hair a couple of times. She had beautiful hair. She was such a smiley little girl. I canāt believe sheās gone.ā Her eyes hurt⦠She hadnāt let herself cry since sheād heard the news, but that hadnāt stopped the tears threatening to fall. āShe hadnāt even started school yet.ā She sniffed, and stared at the inky sky, knowing that, if she did start crying, sheād never be able to stop.
George nodded vigorously, and glugged his beer. āI shouldāve done something while I still had the chance,ā he said.
Chelsea frowned at him. āWhat do you mean? ...Done something about Martha?ā
āI um⦠I saw Alice in the supermarket⦠Couple of weeks ago. Um. I saw her. Buying a box of wine.ā
Chelsea grimaced. āAnd you think you couldāve stopped her? George, that aināt how it worksāā
āI couldāve told someone she was drinking again,ā George said, āMum, or Nanna, or Uncle Chris. Maybe they couldāve done something.ā
āYou donāt think thatās why the fire happened, do you?ā
George shrugged. āI mean, I dunno for sure, but⦠it makes sense, donāt it? Alice is an alcoholic ā everyone knows that ā and alcoholics donāt stop drinking ātil⦠ātil they hit rock bottom. So⦠if Iād said something⦠maybe sheād have stopped drinking earlier⦠and the fireād never have happenedā¦. Or maybe theyād have gotten out in time. Maybe⦠I dunno, maybe Jakob would neverāve had to go in and get them.ā He sighed, and scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. āMaybe a lot of things. But I didnāt tell anyone. I just laughed⦠and took a picture of her, āround the end of the aisle.ā He hung his head. āAnd now a little girl, whoād never done anything to anyone⦠and a man what everyone liked ā he were always great with Bartleby ā theyāre both dead. And maybe thatās ācause of me.ā
Tensions boil over for one family, and Harrison takes shocking action.
When Harrison came home from the church ā his eyes still red and puffy with grief ā Fallon was curled up on the sofa, looking at her phone.
āHiya,ā she said, getting to her feet and hugging him, āDo you feel any better after your walk?ā
Harrison shook his head. He hadnāt told Fallon he was going to the church, only that he needed to clear his head. He hadnāt done that by going to the church, either, but he did have some clarity now, and that was⦠well, ābetter than nothing,ā was still going too far, but he wasnāt sure how else to describe the feeling.
āIāll make us some tea, then,ā Fallon said, going into the kitchen. She left her phone on the arm of the sofa, like she so often did, and left it unlocked, like she always did.
It wasnāt Harrisonās fault, the, that he saw the screen. Fallonās app for tracking her cycle was open⦠and showing that her last recorded period was six weeks ago.
Harrisonās heart skipped a beat, and he looked towards the kitchen, unsure whether he could let himself smile.
He knew what it meant for Fallon to miss a period ā and two weeks late was missing it, considering she could normally set her watch by it ā but heād never dared to hope it might happen; Fallon had told him she didnāt want children.
And, on a day like today, when it hardly felt possible for a good thing to happen, Harrison tried to put it out of his mind, and went into the kitchen, without saying anything.
Fallon was leaning against the counter by the kettle, not looking at him, and he wondered if she was thinking about it, too.
As the kettle came to a boil, though, she dropped two teabags into two mugs, and he realised she couldnāt thinking about it at all.
āNot decaf?ā he said, āIādāve thoughtāā
Fallon frowned. āIām tired. Arenāt you? I barely slept last night. Didnāt think you did, either?ā
āNo, I meantā¦ā Harrison trailed off. Cleared his throat. Glanced over his shoulder, back into the lioving room. āI saw your phone, love. That tracker app. I⦠um⦠I know itās early days, and⦠itās not the best time, but⦠I thought youād want to avoid caffeine.ā
āWhat, because Iām pregnant?ā She looked surprised.
āSo, itās true, then? You are⦠You are pregnant?ā Harrisonās heart began to pound, and his eyes welled up in joy for the first time since the fire. āWeāre having a baby?ā
Fallon stammered. āWell, I donāt know for sure that Iām pregnant⦠Not yet⦠While you were out, I made an appointment with the GP, to talk it over properly. I had to check the date of my last period ā thatās why I had the app open ā but I havenāt taken a test yet.ā
āBut you think you might be?ā Harrison felt giddy as he crossed the kitchen to hug his wife. āOh, love!ā
But Fallon didnāt really hug him back; she just shuffled a little closer, and put her chin on his shoulder.
āWhatās the matter?ā Harrison stepped back, peering at her, āIs this ācause of Martha? Is it because you donāt⦠feel right, being happy right now?ā
āNo, itās nothing like that,ā Fallon said. She hurriedly finished making the tea, mopping up splashes of milk and dumping the dishcloth in the sink.
āHowās it like, then?ā Harrison said.
āWeāre not having a baby,ā Fallon replied, sitting down at the kitchen table and curling her hands around her mug of tea. āI donāt want to be pregnant.ā
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Brian knocked on Kateās bedroom door, and opened it just a hair. āKate, sweetheart? Can I come in?ā
Kate nodded ā though it was hard to tell with the curtains drawn ā and pulled the duvet over her head.
āAll right,ā Brian said, stepping in with a tray of chamomile tea and Vegan shortbread biscuits. āCan I put the light on?ā
This time, the duvet twitched as though Kate were shaking her head.
Brian picked his way around the bed to put the tray on Kateās bedside table. āSomething to eat and drink, darling,ā he said, āI think itād do you good.ā
āDonāt want it,ā Kate mumbled, her face still hidden.
āAll right.ā There wasnāt really anything else Brian could say; he certainly couldnāt make Kate eat or drink, and he knew only to well how difficult it had been to take care of himself after Jennyās death. And heād known that was coming, even if he hadnāt known when.
Jakob had been a fit, healthy ā well, not young, but certainly not old ā man, and there had been no warning⦠just the worst news imaginable, in the middle of the night.
Brian couldnāt quite believe he was dead. Couldnāt quite absorb the fact heād never see Jakob again⦠so God alone knew how Kate must feel.
āIs there anything I can do for you, Kate?ā Brian asked softly, laying his hand on the duvet.
āWhatās the point,ā said Kate. It wasnāt a question; there was no movement in her voice. But why would there be? She was probably still in shock.
So Brian just nodded, patting the duvet gently. āIf you do want anything, just let me know.ā As he got up to leave the room, he paused in the doorway, and asid, āI love you, Kate. Remember that.ā
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
āYou canāt mean youāre going to ask the doctor to give you aāā Harrisonās ears started ringing. His face went hot and cold all at once as he stared at his wife. He staggered, and had to sit down before he fell down.
āFor a termination?ā Fallon offered.
āNo!ā Harrison exclaimed.
But she nodded. āYes. Of course I am. How else could I stop being pregnant? Short of hoping for something that might never happen, itās my only option.ā
āBut you canāt! Itās our baby,Fallon! Ours!ā He choked on suddenly tears, and gripped his mug of tea so hard that it hurt his hand.
āItās a colleciton of cells,ā Fallon replied, sounding like she was correcting him, āAnd I can, and Iām going to. Because I have to! Because this isnāt something I want, Harrison! Iāve never, ever wanted to be a Mum, and Iāve certainly never wanted to be pregnant. You know Iāve had an IUD for years, and you know I was on the pill for years before that. Why did you⦠Why did you think that was?ā She took a sip of tea, and winced as it scalded her tongue.
Harrison didnāt answer.
āI did all of that, had all of it done, because I didnāt want to get pregnant. Ever. Donāt you get it?ā
Harrison couldnāt believe Fallon wasnāt crying. He was.
Didnāt Fallon care? Her eyes were as clear and dry as if she were talking about what furniture theyād need to move around, if they wanted to paint the lounge⦠and she was talking about⦠talking aboutā¦
āBut youāre pregnant now,ā Harrison said, āItās real, now! Donāt that change anything? Donāt it make you realise⦠that it could be good? That maybe it were meant to happen?ā
āāMeant to happen?āā repeated Fallon, āIt wasnāt.ā She sighed heavily. āI have an IUD. I have it because I donāt want to get pregnant. Itās that simple!ā
āBut even though you had all that, you got pregnant anyway! Aināt that a miracle? A gift?ā
For a moment, Fallon could only stare at him in stunned silence. When the words finally found her, she said, āItās not a gift I want, Harrison; thatās the point. And you know I donāt believe in miracles.ā
āBut itāsāā Harrison protested, but Fallon stopped him.
āItās my body, and itās my choice,ā she said firmly, āAnd every time Iāve had a choice, Iāve chosen to avoid getting pregnant. Somewhere, somehow, something went wrong. And now Iām going to make sure I donāt stay pregnant. All right?ā
Harrison shook his head, tears in his eyes. āBut you canāt! Not after whatās happened to poorāā
āDonāt bring Martha into this!ā Fallon exclaimed, her throat tightening, āShe died, in the most horrible way, and she must have been so frightened, and youāre using her as a tool to try to force me to have a baby, when I donāt want to! And Martha was a whole person, with thoughts and feelings, and a life of her own.ā She gestured to her lower abdomen. āThis is just a collection of cells that should never have even formed. Itās not a person, itās not a baby, or a child; itās a thing growing inside my body, and I want it gone!ā
āBut I do want it!ā Harrison burst out, springing from his chair and throwing himself at Fallonās feet as he grabbed both of her hands. āDonāt that count for anything?ā He was openly weeping now, eyes and nose both streaming. āAnything at all?ā
Fallon swallowed hard. āIt counts,ā she said, āIt counts a little. But⦠Harrison, you wouldnāt be the one who was pregnant for nine months, and then off work for⦠what? Three more? At least? And, I think, if weāre being honest, youāre not the one whoād end up doing most of the childcare, are you? Thatād fall to me as well. And I donāt want it. So, no. That you want it⦠it counts for something⦠but itās not enough. Iām sorry.ā
Harrison choked on a sob, and staggered to his feet. āI canāt believe it,ā he said, āI canāt⦠I canāt⦠Iāve gotta go. Iāve gotta get out of here.ā
Fallon stared at him, unable to do anything but watch as he lurched out of the house, the front door banging shut behind him.
After a few moments of silence, Fallon buried her face in her hands, and burst into tears.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Brian was sitting at the breakfast table in the cottage when there was a creak from the floor above. Another followed, and then another, and then he realised Kate was moving around upstairs.
Gingerly, he looked up, following the sound as it moved towards the staircase, and then he picked up his newspaper and tried to look as if he were concentrating on the crossword.
If his daughter had managed to get out of bed, he was hardly going to be the one to frighten her back to her room by trying to strike up a conversation.
Kate was as fragile and shaken as if she herself had been pulled from the flames. It didnāt matter that her skin was unburned, or her home untouched by the fire; her life had been taken, too.
She walked into the kitchen, eyes wide and vacant like a sleepwalkerās, and mumbled, āMorning, Dad.ā
Brian decided against pointing out that it was the middle of the afternoon. āAnd to you, darling.ā He glanced at the kettle, and smiled as Kate filled it up and set it to boil. At least she was present enough to remember what the kettle was and how it worked. He hadnāt been up to that so soon after Jenny had died.
Kate herself didnāt seem capable of remembering much else at the moment. Everything seemed to pass her by: she didnāt know that Martha was dead, although heād told her; she didnāt know that everything indicated Alice ā still in hospital ā had somehow been responsible for the fire. But of course she didnāt know these things. Jakobās death was too awful to comprehend.
āTea?ā Kate asked, the kettle rattling to a boil behind her.
āLet me,ā Brian said, putting his newspaper aside.
āNo, I can do it myself,ā Kate mumbled. Her hands shook as she filled the teapot, and the water leapt wildly onto the worktop. Some splashed the back of her hand. She flinched, and dropped the kettle, giving a small sceram as it crashed to the floor.
Then she just stared at the kettle where it lay, broken and leaking, on the tiles.
Steam rose up, and Brian pulled his daughter away from the scalding water, rushing to switch the kettle off at the wall.
āLet go of me! Iām fine!ā Kate snapped, yanking her wrist free of Brianās grasp. āIām fine, I justā¦ā She looked down at the water, and the ruined kettle, and began to cry again. āJakob helped me choose that kettleā¦ā
All Brian could do was hold Kate as she sobbed against his shoulder.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Fallon Rogers sat in the middle of her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, and the top edge of the duvet cover damp with tears.
She just couldnāt stop replaying Harrisonās words in her head. Had he really said all that? Had he really stormed out on her, so angry at the prospect of her seeking a termination, that he couldnāt stand to stay?
And his⦠his shock at her saying she wouldnāt keep the pregnancy, that was what she really couldnāt fathom, she realised.
At first, sheād had that awful, told-off-by-the-teacher sort of feeling: guilt; shame; regret⦠that sheād told him. In the half-hour since heād left, that had morphed into something else⦠a sense of betrayal; when sheād most needed Harrisonās support, he hadnāt given it. He hadnāt even listened.
Why couldnāt he understand that she just didnāt want to be a mother? Why did he think sheād had an IUD fitted? Nobody did it for fun!
And, then, Fallon had realised that she was angry, too. Not at herself, mind, but at him. Her husband ought to have known her well enough to know what she wanted. He ought to have supported her⦠and instead, heād been secretly hoping that her contraception would fail, and sheād learn to love a pregnancy sheād tried so hard to prevent.
As if it should all be down to her, to change her mind, and learn to want what he wanted! Why couldnāt he learn to want what she wanted? What, was it so awful of her, not to want to be a mother?
Fallon sighed. Only now did she notice that sheād balled her hands into fists around the duvet cover. Shaking her head, she released them.
No, enough crying. It was time to get out of bed.
She got up, and showered, washing her hair with her special-occasion shampoo, and treating herself to a deep-conditioning mask. After all, she deserved something nice.
Once dressed, she made up a flask of strong coffee ā with caffeine ā and went out for a walk.
No, she left no note for Harrison; if he came home before she did, he could have a good, long think about why the house was empty.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Harrison Burns got into his car, and pulled out onto Darington High Street.
Knowing it was feasible helped. Knowing it was feasible didnāt stop the tears, but it helped. At least now he knew what he wanted to do, and knew he could afford to do it. If he could do one little thing to make any of this better, it was money well spent.
He drove back to Ambridge, but didnāt go home⦠at least, not straight away.
Parking his car outside Chris Carterās house, he knocked at the door.
When the grieving father opened it, Harrison immediately deduced that he hadnāt slept. And who could have done, in his situation? But Harrison was sure he could help with that.
āHiya, mate,ā he said softly, āHave ye got a minute?ā
Soundlessly, Chris nodded, and held the door open for him.
āHow are ye holding up?ā Harrison asked, making his way through to the living room where he and his friend had spent so many evenings chatting over beer. āOh,ā he said, as he looked around and saw⦠photos of Martha on the windowsill⦠Marthaās toybox in the corner⦠Marthaās dollhouse ā heād bought her that ā by the bookshelf. There were traces of her everywhere, from her little shoes by the front foor, to the little notches on the doorframe, marking every inch sheād ever grown. Or ever would. Harrisonās breath caught on the lump in his throat. āI canāt believe sheās gone.ā
Chris swallowed so hard that Harrison heard it six feet away. āWhat do you want, Harrison?ā he asked, āIāve got a lot to do. Funeral⦠Funeral to plan, and⦠Marthaās things to pack up.ā
āWell, let me help,ā Harrison said, āThatās why Iāve come here, to offerā¦ā He took a deep breath. āTo offer to pay for the funeral.ā
All the colour drained out of Chrisā face ā not that there had been much there to begin with ā and he blinked hard. āYou what?ā
āI want to pay for Marthaās funeral,ā Harrison repeated, āGive her a proper send-off, like she deserves. Poor little girl.ā He looked around, and sighed. āShe should be here. Itās so unfair.ā
āHarrison, I canāt ask you to do that,ā Chris said, āI havenāt even organised it yet, and itās bound to cost a lot. I canāt ask you to pay. She was my daughter. Itās my job to pay.ā
āBut she were like a daughter to me,ā Harrison said, āIād have gone into that house to save her myself, if Iād only knownāā
Chris shook his head. āIt wouldnāt have made a difference,ā he replied bitterly, āIt wasnāt the fire that did her. It was the carbon monoxide in the smoke. Jakob got her out, let her in Kateās house, where she was safe, but it was too late. She was already going.ā
āBut if Iād been there, I couldāve looked after her!ā Harrison exclaimed, āTaken her to hospital!ā
āDonāt you think Iād have done the same?ā Chris retorted, his voice suddenly hard, āDonāt you think Iād have tried to save her? Donāt you think I lay awake at night, thinking about how things mightāve been different, if Iād only knownāā
āWell, of course you do,ā Harrison said, āAnd Iām not saying you wouldnāt have done your bestāā
āBut I had no idea,ā Chris snapped, āBecause I wasnāt there, she wasnāt here, she was with Alice that night, and Alice was drunk, and⦠andā¦ā He hung his head hopelessly. āJust go.ā
āChris, Iām not leaving you alone when youāre feeling like this,ā Harrison said, as softly as he could.
āI want to be alone,ā Chris said, staring at the carpet, āAnd, whether youāre here or not, I will be. Because you donāt understand. You donāt know what itās like to lose a child.ā
Harrisonās chest ached. āI know more about that than you think.ā
āNo, you have no idea!ā Chris shouted, his face bright red, āYou donāt have any children! So how can you possibly imagine how it feels, to see your daughterās body, cold and grey in a hospital bed, knowing she died alone, without you?ā
āChris, mate, Iām so sorryā¦ā
āJust go,ā Chris whispered, āPlease.ā
Finally, Harrison left, and Chris shut the door firmly behind him.
Then, he went up to the room which had been his little girlās, turning off every light on the way.
And then, he sat down on her little bed, as though he were about to read her a bedtime story, and put his head in his hands.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
When Harrison got back from Chrisā house, his own home was empty.
It took him several calls of, āFallon love?ā to realise that nobody was replying. He tried her phone, but heard it ringing upstairs, and found it, laying still, on her bedside table.
Sighing, he went back down to the kitchen, and started looking in the fridge for supper.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Fallon had walked for hours across the fields around the village, and now her legs were aching. She had found her way to Jazzer and Tracyās house, but there was no answer, and she realised they were both probably at The Bull. How could that have slipped her mind?
She thought about going to The Bull, to see her Mum, and then realised, sighing heavily, that sheād have to tell her what had happened⦠or pretend everything was fine⦠and she couldnāt do either.
And so she kept walking.
In another life, she might have gone to Aliceās, and vented to her about the argument with Harrison. But Aliceās house wasnāt there anymore⦠and nor was the Alice that Fallon had once known. Had once called her best friend⦠until Aliceās drinking problem had put paid to that. And even if it hadnāt, how could Fallon go and talk to Alice about this, when Alice had just lost her child?
Her stomach churned as she walked down the lane, and she wasnāt sure if it was her pregnancy, or the way she felt about it, but she suddenly had to retch into the hedgerow. Thank God she brought nothing up. At least that felt a little better. Maybe sheād only needed to retch.
A car pulled up beside her, and someone called her name. āFallon? Are you all right?ā
It was Kirsty, Fallon realised, as the driverās door opened. Lovely Kirsty, whoād had more than her fair share of men who didnāt understand. Lovely Kirsty, who might empathise.
Fallon chewed her lip. āUm⦠no, Iām not, actually. Have you got a minute?ā
Kirsty smiled. āOf course I have. I was going to the supermarket, but youāre welcome to come along for the ride.ā She paused. āAnd, if you want me to go the long way āround, so we can have a proper chat, Iām in no hurry at all.ā She opened the passenger door, and Fallon got in.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.
Author's Note: I have used a bit of artistic licence, changing the dates around here. Wednesday 8th May's description makes more sense within this story if it goes after Thursday 9th May 2024, so it's best to read Part 5 (Thursday) before Part 6 (Wednesday). I hope you enjoy reading it.
May in Ambridge - Part 6
Wednesday 8th May 2024
Alan provides a sympathetic ear.
Harrison Burns sobbed into his palms, his sorrow echoing off every stone surface in the church. Heād come in to pray for Martha, and for Chris and Alice⦠but then⦠it had hit him, why heād come in to pray for the Carters, and the awful agony of it had choked him, bent him double like a punch to the heart.
Reverend Alan Franks was in the vestry when he heard Harrison weeping, and he shut his eyes for a moment.
Who would it be, crying in the church, today? There was no obvious answer at the moment; the entire village had been shaken by the fire at Aliceās cottage, and so soon after John Mackās accident.
Alan wasnāt shocked to see Harrison crying in the pews. He knew how fond Harrison had been of Martha, how he had loved her like a daughter of his own.
And now, just like that, she was gone.
Alan swallowed the urge to cry himself, and cleared his throat.
Harrison wiped his face, as if there were any shame in crying at such a tragedy. (There wasnāt, and he knew there wasnāt, but that didnāt make any of it less painful.) āAlan, sorry,ā he said, sitting up straight, āI didnāt know you were here.ā
āIām always here,ā Alan said gently, sliding into the pew and sitting next to him. āHere to help. What can I do?ā
Harrison shook his head, but accepted the tissue Alan offered, with a mumbled, āThanks.ā
They sat in quiet for several minutes.
The whole village had been eerily quiet since the fire. Since Martha ā and Jakob, poor, kind Jakob ā had died. The birds still sang, and the faint hum of traffic still drifted over from the bypass, but it had been several days, now, and, still, talking about anything but the fire felt wrong. And talking about the fire itself felt even worse.
āIt it about what happened to Martha?ā Alan asked.
Harrison let out a gasping sob that might as well have been, āYes.ā
āIām very sorry,ā Alan said, putting his hand on Harrisonās shoulder, āI know how much she meant to you. She was a very dear little girl Weāll all miss her, very much.ā
What else could he say? There was nothing.
All his ordained life, words of comfort had come naturally to Reverend Alan Franks, but now they all felt so⦠flat. Everything he wanted to say felt trite and useless, but, then again, of course it did. He knew how to talk about God, but⦠what kind of God would take a three-year-old girl from the world? What kind of God would take Martha and Jakob in the same night?
Neither one of them had done anything to deserve such a terrible end - nor had poor John Mack ā and none of the people who had loved them had done anything to deserve such grief.
āSheās in a better place, aināt she?ā Harrison mumbled, āHeaven.ā
Alan hadnāt felt able to say so himself. He just nodded. āThatās what I keep trying to remind myself.ā
āBut itās so hard, aināt it?ā Harrison said, āI donāt know how Iām going to go on, knowing sheās⦠knowing sheāsā¦ā
Alan straightened his back, unsure exactly how to respond to that.
Harrison sounded more like a grieving father than a bereaved friend of the family. Then again, loss touched everyone differently, and everyone knew how fond Harrison had been of Martha. Of course he should grieve her; of course Alan could expect him to be struggling now.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
In the kitchen of the flat where Chris Carter lived, his sister, Emma, sat with her arm around his shoulder as he wept into his palms.
Emmaās own eyes were full of tears, but she was doing her best to hold them back, knowing she needed to be strong for her brother.
And what was her grief, anyway, next to Chrisā? Chris had lost his little girl, in the most horrible of ways, and ā worse still ā he hadnāt seen it coming.
Not that Emma would ever say so ā not now, and not to Chris ā but something like this had been going to happen.
She ground her teeth as she thought about it.
Something like this had been going to happen since Alice had picked up that glass of wine. Or that bottle of gin. Or vodka. Or⦠whatever sheād been drinking that night. And it could have happened any night in the last few weeks; Chris had told Emma that Alice had started drinking again, around the time sheād broken up with that Harry bloke.
The fire at The Nest, Marthaās death, and Jakobās death ā and it seemed that Jakob had been trying to save Martha and Alice ā were just the latest in a long line of Alice Disasters. Her sister-in law ā ex-sister-in-law ā had never wanted to face reality, or take responsibility for her actions. Her life was one catastrophe after another, but could Alice ever admit what all her problems had in common?
Emma sighed heavily.
It wasnāt a question so much of whether Alice could, as whether she would.
āI just donāt know what to do,ā Chris sobbed.
āYou donāt have to know,ā Emma replied, hugging him tightly. She didnāt know what to do either, short of chasing Alice out of town for good. All the damage sheād caused, sheād deserve it, but that rich Dad of hers, that Brian Aldridge, oh, no, heād make sure his little girl avoided the consequences.
Chrisā shoulders sank, and he slumped over the table.
Emma folded her arms on the tabletop, and rested her head on her hands, so that she could look Chris in the eye. āYou donāt have to know what to do, and you donāt have to do anything,ā she whispered, āAnything you need done, weāll do it for you. Any help you need, weāll give it. Me, Ed, Mum, Dad, George, Kiera. Weāll all help. Just tell us what you need.ā
āI need my daughter back,ā Chris said hoarsely, āBut you canāt give me that, can you?ā
Author's Note: I have used a bit of artistic licence, changing the dates around here. Wednesday 8th May's description makes more sense within this story if it goes after Thursday 9th May 2024, so it's best to read Part 5 (Thursday) before Part 6 (Wednesday). I hope you enjoy reading it.
May in Ambridge - Part 5
Thursday 9th May 2024
Thereās heartbreak in store for Chris, and suspicion is raised about recent events.
āMr Carter, Iām afraid I have some bad news,ā said the nurse, leading Chris into a side room, āPlease, have a seat.ā
Chris Carter sat down in an uncomfortable armchair, unable to look directly at the nurse. He focused on a spot behind her ear instead.
āAs you know, your wife and your daughter were brought here after a house fire. Iām part of the team that has been looking after your little girl.
āMartha,ā Chris said. There was a lump in his throat so large that he felt sick.
āYes, Martha,ā the nurse said, āA lovely name. Now, weāre not sure what happened, exactly⦠but we do believe Martha was in the house for some time after the fire broke out. She was found next door, at her auntās house - so we think someone tried to save her - but, when her aunt found her, she was very unwell.ā
āNo,ā Chris whispered, knowing - and wishing desperately that he didnāt - where this was going. He wouldnāt have been taken into a side room if Martha was all right, would he? āPlease donāt say it.āĀ
āMr Carter. Iām really sorry. Martha was unconscious, and not breathing, when she was found. Her aunt took her to the paramedics as soon as she could, but Martha showed a number of signs of carbon monoxide poisoning, most likely due to smoke inhalation.ā
Chris put his head in his hands. āNot my little girl,ā he moaned, unable to think about what it meant, that one of Marthaās nurses was here, talking to him, instead of taking care of her.
But the nurse kept talking.
Little by little - because she gave him time to absorb what she was saying - she told Chris, āMartha was without oxygen for a long time⦠We donāt know how long she went without breathing⦠But itās likely that she stopped breathing because there was too much carbon monoxide in her blood⦠and not enough oxygen. She would have felt very sleepy, Mr Carter. She wouldnāt have been scared⦠She wouldāve just gone to sleep⦠and gradually stopped breathing.ā
Chris dug his fingers into his scalp. āDonāt say it.ā He knew the nurse had to tell him⦠but why did she have to tell him, when he already knew? Couldnāt he just stay in the moment before he heard the words, in the tiny bit of hope that Martha might be all right?
āIām so sorry, Mr Carter. By the time she was in the care of the paramedics, Martha was too unwell to recover. They gave her oxygen, they tried to restart her heart, and they did their very best to revive her⦠but, in the ambulance⦠Martha died.ā
āMartha died?ā Chris repeated hollowly.
āYes. Martha died.ā If Chris had been able to look at her, he would have seen tears in her eyes. āIām very sorry.ā
Chrisā eyes were wide and dry. He stared at the wall, remembering the last time heād seen Martha.
Only the afternoon before, heād kissed her goodbye at Aliceās front door. Sheād been fine, and heād thought nothing of leaving Martha at her motherās house for the night. It had only been for one night, and heād be back again in the morning.
But now it was the morning - four in the morning - and a nurse was telling him that Martha was⦠dead? His little girl, barely three years old⦠dead?
How could that be?
āCan I⦠Can I see her?ā Chris stammered.
āYes, of course you can, Mr Carter,ā the nurse said, āAs soon as you feel ready. She looks very peaceful; we washed her hair and her face, and weāve tucked her up in a blanket. She looks⦠She looks like sheās asleep.ā
Except sheād never wake up.
Pain seeped through Chrisā chest as he realised that was what the nurse must have meant by, āLooking after Martha.ā Sheād been preparing Marthaās body for viewing⦠because sheād died before sheād ever reached the hospital.
Martha had been dead before Lillian had called him. Martha had been dead before the nurse had called his name. She had died in the middle of the night⦠and he hadnāt even known it was happening.
Yet sheād been alive when the nurse had shown Chris into the side room, and sheād been alive when the nurse had told him about the fire, and sheād been alive⦠until the nurse had said, āMartha died.ā
She had been alive and dead at the same timeā¦
(And⦠carbon monoxide poisoning? A house fire? Lillian hadnāt said anything about a house fire. Just what had happened?!)
Chris felt like another horse had kicked him in the chest. It felt exactly the same: he couldnāt breathe; his whole body was in agony; the edges of his vision were going dark.
āAll right, Mr Carter, all right,ā said the nurse, putting her arm around his shoulders, āSit forward for me. Try and put your head between our knees.ā
Numbly, Chris did as he was told, but it all felt pointless, and it didnāt help. All the blood rushed to his head, it sounded like a roaring fire, and that was all it took to make him vomit.
Ā -:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Brian Aldridge sat in silent shock as Lillian told him what had happened.
āSo The Nest is just⦠gone?ā He couldnāt picture it. āGone, completely?ā
āYes, darling,ā Lillian said, āThe fire destroyed it.ā
āBut how did the fire start? When did it start? How did it get so bad, and⦠How did Martha get into Kateās house?ā None of it made a shred of sense. It all felt like a bad dream⦠not helped by the fact that heād put on his coat and shoes to drive to the hospital, without ever changing out of his pyjamas.
Lillian shook her head. it seemed pointless to say she didn't know, but, of course⦠nobody knew.
The family sat in painful silence as they waited - in the absence of Kate and Chris - for news.
Ā -:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Hours seemed to pass, and maybe they did. It was hard to know, when nobody could stand to look at the clock, let alone speak.
Lillian sat, gripping Adamās hand, and praying inaudibly, eyes shut. She never usually prayed⦠but what else could she do right now? She couldnāt help - she wouldnāt have known where to start - and she couldnāt do what she really wanted to: turn the clock back, and stop the fire from breaking out in the first place.
Finally, the door to the waiting room opened, and Kate - grey-lipped and huge-eyed - came back.
āDarling!ā Lilliam jumped to her feet and wrapped Kate in her arms. āWhat happened?ā
But Kate just stared over Lillianās shoulder, while her aunt, brother and father rushed her with questions she couldnāt answer, and hugs she couldnāt feel.
Brian glared at her, shaking his head. What had happened was perfectly obvious to him. Why make Kate say the words?
He held his daughter as tightly as he could, letting her sob into his shoulder as he stroked her hair. āI know,ā he murmured, āI know.ā
Ā -:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
At last, Chris Carter had been able to get to his feet.
The roar had faded from his ears, and he had nothing left in his stomach but a burning pain.
āYou are welcome to stay in here as long as you need to,ā the nurse said to him, āThereās no rush.ā
āNo, I want⦠I want to see her,ā Chris said.
āOf course you can,ā replied the nurse. āIāll take you to her.ā She offered him her arm.
He took it, legs shaking as she led him back out into the corridor⦠and past signs pointing to the childrenās wards.
Chris stopped on the spot. āNo, not Martha,ā he said, āAlice. I want to see Alice.ā How could he go and see Martha without her?
āYour wife?ā the nurse asked, and Chris didnāt correct her. āAll right.ā She turned him around, and led him somewhere else.
āHas she been told?ā Chris stammered, āDoes she know about--ā
āLeave that to me,ā replied the nurse gently, helping Chris into a chair, āIāll go and find out for you.ā She went over to some kind of reception desk, and started talking to someone Chris couldnāt see.
Meanwhile, he sat staring at a sign for the, āAdult Critical Care Unit.ā Was that where Alice was?
His ears droned as he wondered why heād been brought here, and not taken back to the side room. Maybe there were other people in there now. Other families receiving⦠the worst news.
And then he thought of all Aliceās relatives heād left sitting in the waiting room⦠of the call heād had from Lillian⦠and his heart started to thud as he realised she or Brian might be in that room now, being told what had happened to Alice.
Chris covered his face with his hands and tried to stifle his crying. What was he doing, waiting for news of Alice, when Martha was all alone⦠cold, scared, maybe⦠wondering where her Mummy and Daddy were?
Then it all came back to him, and he choked on the memory. Martha didnāt know she was on her own. Sheād never know anything again, never know loneliness, or fear, or cold⦠nor company, nor content, nor warmth.
His poor, sweet little girl.
No, he had to go and see her.
He jumped to his feet. Heād find the childrenās ward on his own, and see his daughter. Hold her hand. Tell her how much he loved her. And how sorry he was.
āMr Carter?ā There was the nurse again. āCome with me, please.ā
Chris looked over his shoulder, swallowing hard as he saw the signs for the childrenās ward. He wanted to say Marthaās name, to ask to see her instead of Alice, but the words wouldnāt come out.
So he said nothing, and followed the nurse.
āYour wife has a broken leg and a broken arm, Mr Carter,ā she explained, āWe believe she fell, or maybe jumped, from a first-floor window. She was found unconscious in the back garden, but woke up after she arrived at the hospital.ā She pushed open a door marked, āAdult Orthopaedics Ward,ā and led Chris to a cubicle.
The nurse opened the curtain, and Alice opened her eyes.
Her face was pale, and her right arm and leg were in splints. She looked exhausted. āChris?ā Her voice was hoarse. She tried to sit up, but her movements were sluggish. āWhat happened?ā
Chris blinked. āThere was a fire.ā He looked at the nurse. āShe did know there was a fire, didnāt she?ā
The nurse shook her head. āI donāt know what Mrs Carter has been told.ā She turned to Alice. āIāll talk to your doctor.ā With a sympathetic smile, she stepped out, shutting the curtain behind her.
āA fire?ā Alice repeated, āWhat are you talking about?ā
āYou and Martha were brought to hospital after a house fire,ā Chris said, but that was all he said.
He could hear Marthaās nurse talking to Aliceās doctor, and he caught the words, āLiver damage⦠Stomach pumped⦠Blood alcoholā¦ā
āMartha?!ā Alice exclaimed, trying again to sit up, but snagging her IV line. She winced, and put a hand to her head, as if it hurt. āWhere is she?ā
Chrisā heart pounded. āWhy is Marthaās nurse talking to your doctor about alcohol poisoning?ā He heard his own voice only distantly, as if it were someone elseās. It sounded cold and clipped and clinical. āWere you drinking?ā
Alice shook her head furiously. āNo! Of course I wasnāt! I donāt drink! And Iād never drink around Martha! How can you even say something like that?!ā She began to cry. āNow, where is she? Tell me right now!ā
Aliceās doctor opened the curtain. āMrs Carter, please, try to lay still.ā He helped Alice - who did not want help, she wanted her daughter - to lay back on the bed, and checked her IV line. āItās important that you rest.ā
Chris turned on the doctor. āWhat happened?ā he demanded, āWhat did she do?ā
āMr Carter, I understand how difficult this must be, but--ā
āOh, do you?ā Chris snapped, āMy little girl is dead, and your treating Alice for alcohol poisoning?!ā He glowered at Alice. āWas the fire your fault?ā
āDead?!ā Alice repeated, āNo! Martha! She canāt be!ā Tears flooded down her cheeks. āShe isnāt! No!ā
āMr Carter, Iām afraid Iām going to have to ask you to leave the ward,ā said Aliceās doctor, āYour wife has been badly injured, nd itās vital she rest.ā He tried to guide Chris out of the cubicle, but Chris refused to move.
Alice was trying to get off her bed, but couldnāt put any weight on her plastered leg. āWhereās my daughter, Doctor? Tell me!ā
āSheās dead!ā Chris roared, shoving Alice in the chest. āSheās dead, because youāve been drinking! You killed her, Alice, you killed Martha, itās all your fault! It shouldāve been you! It shouldāve--ā
Two members of the hospitalās security staff bodily escorted Chris from the ward, but, as soon as he was out in the corridor, all his resistance and anger and strength dissolved.
He sank to the floor, his face pressed against the lino.
The security staff had seen this kind of thing a hundred times before. This man wasnāt a threat, he was in shock.
One of them helped Chris into a chair, while the other softly urged him to take deep breaths.
But Martha would never take another breath. All Chris could think about was his little girl⦠and how she was gone.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
I draft on paper, and then type up my episodes once they're finished. The thing is, I write in pencil at the moment, and as I get more emotionally involved in a scene, press harder and harder until the nib snaps. So far I have startled myself half to death at least once per episode, and I'm hoping to do it at least a few more times by the end of the series.
Thereās life changing news at the hospital, and Kate fears the worst.
Lillian Bellamy wrapped her arms around her niece. āNo, darling. Donāt get any closer. Let the fire service deal with it.ā
Kate wrenched herself free of her auntās hug. āi need to make sure everyoneās all right! Thatās the cottages, over there!ā She strode towards the flock of cars parked for the Beltane celebrations. āJakob could be hurt! Alice, or Martha, something might have happened to them!ā
āI know, darling, I know,ā Lillian said, grabbing at the sleeves of Kateās robe, āāBut you canāt help them. The firefighters can. The paramedics can.ā
āParamedics?!ā Kate exclaimed, her eyes wide, āDid you see an ambulance?!ā
āYes, darling, butā¦ā She stared at the burning horizon, āIām sure itās just a precaution, to make sure everyoneās all right.ā She wasnāt sure of any such thing, but what else could she say? She had no more idea of what was happening than Kate did.
Kate kept struggling against Lillianās grasp. āLet me go, then, and see that everyoneās all right!ā Tears were running down her face, and her Vegan mascara was running.
āNo, darling, youāre in no state to drive,ā Lillian said firmly, āGet in my car, and Iāll take you.ā She squeezed Kateās arms. āWeāll⦠Weāll both check on them. Together.ā
In truth, she wasnāt thrilled at the idea of driving, herself, but sheād had a few more glasses of Beltane sangria than Kate had, and her nerves werenāt quite as shaken.
Lillian steered Kate towards her car, and pushed her into the passenger seat. āWeāll be there before you know it, darling.ā
Somehow, that didnāt help.
Maybe it was because - despite Auntie Lillianās assurances - her aura was not its usual colour, and had taken on a jagged shape, edges pulsating erratically, a sign she was lying.
Maybe it was just because, even though Kate wanted to be driven back to the cottages, every moment they spent getting there was another moment she could imagine things were all right.
Auntie Lillianās silver Audi sped down the lane through Home Farm. She drove as fast as she could, much faster than usual. Nobody was coming the other way, after all⦠and she could see an ambulance in her rear mirror.
As the car drew closer to the fire, Lillian gasped.
āOh, my God, itās The Nest!ā She pulled into the gateway of the nearest field, and she and Kate undid their seatbelts, leaping out of the car as soon as the ambulance had passed.
They ran up the last bit of the lane.
A fire engine was parked outside Aliceās cottage, and three ambulances in front of Kateās.
āWhatās happened?ā Kate demanded of a firefighter.
āMadam, please, keep your distance. Itās for your own safety.ā He was setting up a firehose. āLet us take care of it.ā
āBut what happened?ā Kate repeated, āThatās my sisterās house. Her little girl was with her tonight.ā That was why Alice had said she couldnāt come to Beltane, because she had Martha tonight. Oh, God, she had Martha tonight⦠and the house was on fire.
Auntie Lillian grabbed Kateās arm and pulled her away from the firefighter.
āSorry,ā she said, āIām sure you understand, my niece is very worried. And Iām sure youāll make sure everyoneās all right.ā She blinked hard. āThank you. Is it⦠Is it safe to go into that house?ā She gestured to Kateās unharmed cottage, and then to Kate herself. āIt is her home.ā
The firefighter nodded. āItās safe.ā
Kate couldnāt stop staring at Aliceās burning house.
Only when Auntie Lillian got Kate into the house did she manage to blink.
Lillian steered her niece into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. āWhere do you keep the sugar, darling? Something sweet will help with the shock.ā
Kate was staring at the wall, now, swaying on the spot.
āKate, whereās the sugar?ā
There was no reply. Kate went upstairs in silence.
Shaking her head, Lillian opened the cupboard to look for mugs and tea. She found chamomile, and some agave to sweeten it. Of course, Kate didnāt keep caffeine or sugar in the house.
There was a thump upstairs, and then Kate dashed back down to the kitchen. She was pale and sweaty.
āWhereās Jakob?ā
āDidnāt you say he was working tonight?ā Lillian reminded her gently.
āThat was last night. He was here tonight, he was staying here, heā¦ā Her ears started ringing, and everything seemed very far away, all of a sudden.
āAll right, all right.ā Lillian grabbed Kate under the arms, lowering her gently to the floor. āIām sure heās all right.ā
āBut where is he?ā Kate persisted.
āLook, darling, are you sure he was here tonight? Did you see him before you went to Beltane?ā
Kate groaned as if she were going to be sick. āThe bedās all rumpled, like he got out of it in a hurry. My room smells like his aftershave. His slippers are next to my yoga mat.ā Her voice went very small. āHe was here. And he wouldnāt have sat by and done nothing while Alice--ā She couldnāt stand to finish the sentence.
āWell, Iām going to call him,ā Lillian said, āSo that he can tell you himself that heās all right.ā She dug her phone out of her pocket, and patted Kateās shoulder.
Then, she ducked into Kateās living room, leaning on the door as she found, āJakob Vet,ā in her contacts.
She called. She heard only his recorded voice, a sterile beep⦠and then silence.
āJakob, itās Lillian. Please call me, or Kate, as soon as you can.ā She didnāt want to ask about the fire in an answerphone message. Maybe Jakob had been called out to work, and had no idea about the fire. So she ended the call, and sighed.
She hadnāt turned on the living room light when sheād come in. Now she did, and gasped in relief.
There was Martha, sleeping on the sofa, safe and sound, thank God.
āMartha, sweetheart, youāre all right!ā Lillian scooped her great-niece up for a cuddle, and then shrieked.
Martha was like a ragdoll, with dangling limbs, and a lolling head. And she wasnāt breathing.
A tearful Kate appeared in the doorway. āMartha!ā For half a second, she smiledā¦
But then Lillian shouted, āCall an ambulance!ā
āThereās no time!ā Kate grabbed Martha and ran out of the house, screaming,Ā āHelp! Sheās not breathing! Sheās my niece, sheās only three, she--ā
āWas she in the fire?ā The paramedic took Martha out of Kateās arms, and laid her gently on the grass.
Martha was so still that Kate couldnāt speak to answer.
āDo you know if she was in the fire?ā the paramedic asked again, checking Marthaās pulse and going over her chest with a stethoscope.
āWe found her on the sofa,ā Lillian whispered, peering over Kateās shoulder.
The paramedic pulled down Marthaās lower lip, and shone a torch into her face. āRight, sheās showing signs of carbon monoxide poisoning,ā he called to his colleague.
āOxygen,ā the colleague said, passing him equipment for Martha.
āCarbon monoxide?ā Lillian repeated, āFrom the smoke?ā Her ecstatic relief at finding Martha safe in Kateās house had vanished.
āWas she in the fire?ā the paramedic repeated.
āI donāt know!ā Lillian snapped. Then she caught herself, and softened her voice. āIām sorry. I donāt know.ā
āBut if she wasā¦ā Kate mumbled, watching as the paramedics covered Marthaās face with a mask and listed her into the ambulance.
āIf she was in the fire, who got her out?ā Lillian finished, her heart pounding.
āAnd where are they now?ā Kateās ears began to ring again.
There was a quiet thud, and some crackling, adn then a sound like rushing wind⦠but so quietā¦
Dazed, Kate looked towards the source of the noise, just in time to see Aliceās house collapse in a burst of orange flames and yellow sparks.
The firefighters were drenching the building, but it was too late. The Nest was gone. All anyone could do was try to extinguish the flames that had devoured it.
But there were two other ambulances.
āWhoās in those?ā Kate whimpered, knowing the answer would be awful.
āA man and a woman were found in the garden,ā replied the paramedic, āOur colleague are taking them to Borchester General.ā
āBut who is it?ā
The paramedic shook his head. āThe woman is alert enough to speak. She said her name was Alice.ā
āMy sister,ā Kate breathed.
The paramedic shut his eyes. āThe man⦠He didnāt have ID on him.ā
Kateās heart plummeted. āIs he⦠Is he alive?ā
āYes, but heās seriously injured.ā
āCan I see him?ā
āDo you think you know who he is?ā
Weakly, Kate nodded. āMy partner is missing.ā She trudged over to the next ambulance.
Lillian stayed to talk to the paramedics looking after Martha.
Kate heard only snatches of their conversation. āSomeone needs to go wtih her, though. Sheās only three. Her motherās hurt, and her fatherās not here--ā
To say nothing of the fact that Marthaās grandfather was nowhere to be found.
Kate hadnāt thought of that, but now it crossed her mind, sickening her: what if it wasnāt Jakob in the ambulance, but her Dad? What if Brian had hurt himself, helping Alice and Martha?
(But where did that leave Jakob?) (But what if her Dad was hurt?) (But what if Jakob was hurt?) (And where was Jakob?)
Kate sobbed her worries into the ambulance, and a paramedic helped her step into the back.
There he was.
Every one of his limbs was splinted. He was wearing a neckbrace. There was a tube down his throat, and one of the paramedics was pumping air into his lungs with a bag. His clothes were badly burned, his skin blistered, and his eyes closed⦠but Kate knew him at once.
Ā -:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Kate stumbled out of the back of Jakobās ambulance, and watched as Martha was driven away.
Auntie Lillian was staring at the spot where Marthaās ambulance had been.
āThey wouldnāt let me stay with her,ā she said, āLittle Martha, sheās all on her own.ā
The doors to Jakobās ambulance banged shut, and the engine rumbled into life. The sirens started up, and the vehicle took off down the lane, quickly followed by the one carrying Alice.
Kate and Lillian were left behind, in the near-silence. The only sound was that of water spraying onto the remains of The Nest.
āItās Jakob,ā Kate said, āThe man they found⦠Itās Jakob.ā She put her face in her hands. āAnd they wouldnāt let me go with him, either. They say⦠Heās too seriously hurt. He needs too much⦠Too muchā¦ā
Lillian wrapped her arms around Kate again. āIām so sorry, darling.ā
āI wish Iād never done Beltane,ā Kate said bitterly, āIf Iād been at home tonight, this wouldnāt have happened.ā
āYou donāt know that. You mustnāt think like that. This wasnāt your fault.ā Lillian rubbed Kateās shoulders.
Once she was sure she could let go of Kate, Lillian fumbled for her phone again, and called Justin.
āHello, darling. Yes, Iām sorry to wake you. But how quickly can you get to Home Farm? Yes, of course, I drove here, but⦠Look, Kate and I need picking up, and weāre in no state to drive⦠No, weāre not drunk, darling, itās⦠Something has happened. We need you to take us to Borchester General, please.ā She sighed. āWeāre all right, yes. But⦠Alice, Martha and Jakob are on their way to hospital, and weāre the only ones who know. Please could you drive us there?ā
Ā -:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
The dual carriageway was almost empty in the middle of the night. Justin put his foot down, and for once, Lillian didnāt tell him to slow down.
She sat in the back, holding Kateās hand and calling Chris, and Brian, and Adam, telling them only that Alice and Martha had been taken to the hospital in Borchester.
Her stomach twisted. She knew she shouldnāt leave out the fact of the fire, but⦠wasnāt it frightening enough to know Martha and Alice were hurt? Couldnāt the full, awful story wait for the hospital? And didnāt every minute count?
In the spaces between the calls, the words, ācarbon monoxide poisoning,ā kept looping around Lillianās head.
Kate couldnāt get rid of that image of Jakob in the back of the ambulance, and she hated herself, because she wished she hadnāt looked.
What did it matter how she felt, when he was hurt? What did anything matter?
Ā -:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
It seemed like hours passed before they arrived at Borchester General.
Justin dropped Kate and Lillian outside the entrance to Reception, and then went to find parking.
Lillian and Kate hurried over to the reception desk.
āPlease could you tell us where to find Alice and Martha Carter, and Jakob Hakansson?ā Lillian said, āThey were brought here by ambulance, following a house fire.ā
Kate stifled a sob, hardly believing Auntie Lillian was actually saying those words.
āTheyāll have gone to Accident and Emergency,ā the receptionist said. He gave them directions, and they set off in a hurry.
Ā -:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Waiting for news was agony.
Every time the door to the waiting room opened, Kate flinched.
Justin came to sit with them, but he was joined by Brian and Chris before anyone told them anything.
But then a nurse opened the door. āMr Carter? Would you follow me, please?ā
Chris got up, shaking, and went with her down a corridor.
Brian reached for Kateās hand, and squeezed it, but she couldnāt squeeze it back.
āAre they talking to him about Alice or Martha?ā whispered Lillian, but of course, nobody could say.
āMrs Madikane?ā A doctor looked around the waiting room.
Kate didnāt answer - couldnāt answer - and so it was Brian who stood up.
āSheās here,ā he said, helping Kate to her feet.
āIāll go with her,ā Lillian said, linking her arm through Kateās as the doctor led them to the Relativesā Room.
Ā -:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
āPlease, make yourself comfortable, Mrs Madikane.ā The doctor closed the door, and gestured for Kate and Lillian to sit on a threadbare, grey sofa.
āKate,ā Kate mumbled, staring at the worn carpet.
āKate,ā repeated the doctor, āI understand youāve come here because youāre the partner of Jakob Hakansson. Is that right?ā She was reading their names from a tablet, and although she hesitated before each one, she pronounced them correctly. Which helped. A bit.
Kate nodded.
āThank you.ā The doctor paused. āNow. Kate. Iām sure you know Jakob was very seriously hurt.ā
Lillian squeezed Kateās hand hard.
Again, Kate nodded.
The doctor looked her in the eye. āIām afraid that his heart stopped on the journey to hospital⦠and the paramedics werenāt able to revive him. His injuries were too severe. Kate, Iām very sorry to say that⦠Jakob died. Heās dead.ā
Going to be a bit late with tonight's episode, as I got very into knitting over the last few days, and ended up losing the lead I'd built myself, but I will get it done and posted this evening!
Going to be a bit late with tonight's episode, as I got very into knitting over the last few days, and ended up losing the lead I'd built myself, but I will get it done and posted this evening!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Going to be a bit late with tonight's episode, as I got very into knitting over the last few days, and ended up losing the lead I'd built myself, but I will get it done and posted this evening!
Going to be a bit late with tonight's episode, as I got very into knitting over the last few days, and ended up losing the lead I'd built myself, but I will get it done and posted this evening!