Kindle Edition
Download from Smashwords (eBook)
Amazon
Stevie Turner Author
Amazon
Smashwords
Category:
Women
Publisher: Smashwords
Type: Fiction
Pages: 92
Copyright: March 23rd 2014
ISBN-13: 9781310507854
Price: $0.99 (eBook)
A short story with a paranormal twist, partly set in the Victorian Era.
Lily is 92 and failing in health. Her family told her she was going on a little holiday, and although she finds herself still on her beloved Isle of Wight, to her horror she is now living permanently in a residential home at the mercy of Bridie, the ‘horrible’ one.
To make what is left of her life happier she thinks about years gone by, and once again wonders about the strange disappearance of her 14 year old sister Violet in 1897. However, every cloud has a silver lining, and amidst the daily horror of her life she is delighted to find out that somebody at the home can shed new light on the mystery.
Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Lily woke up, looked at her daughter, and opened her mouth to speak:
“Lll …..hrss..pt..” She could not seem to get the message over to Pamela that she wanted to go home.
“You’ve had a stroke, Mum. You need to stay in here now so that the nurses can look after you.” Pamela plumped up the cushion behind Lily’s back and put a cup of water to her lips.
“Come on. Have a little drink. There’s a sandwich on the table here for you. You’ve had nothing to eat all the afternoon.”
Lily pushed the cup away. If she could not go home, then she wanted to die.
“I’ll be back to see you tomorrow. Connie’s home from school now, so she’ll come with me as well.” Pamela kissed her mother. “We’ll come after lunch. See you tomorrow!” She tried to sound as cheerful as possible so that her mother’s suspicions were not aroused.
With a waft of perfume Pamela was gone. Lily tried to get out of the chair, but her body would not obey her commands.
Out of the corner of her eye Lily could see Bridie, the horrible one, coming in. With a few expert moves Lily’s clothing was removed and a nightdress put over her head:
“Now, Mrs Read, I’m going to put you on the commode so that you can do a wee for me before I put you into bed.”
“Essss…….uurrrrr.” Lily tried to say that she wasn’t a child, didn’t want to do a wee, and didn’t want to go to bed.
“You have to do a wee! Your sheets were wet again this morning.” Bridie lifted Lily up as though she was a feather, placed the back of her nightdress over the backrest of the commode, and put a blanket over her legs.
“I’ll come back in a while when you’ve done a wee.”
Lily was stuck fast by her nightdress. She looked around the room in despair. How could it have come to this? She and Artie had brought six children into the world, looked after them and given them a good life, and now they’d betrayed her. They’d told her she was going on a little holiday. They’d left it to Pamela to dump her here. She would never trust any of her children again.
She felt hungry. Her skinny left arm reached out to her bedside table and grabbed the sandwich still sitting there from tea-time. It tasted good. She wolfed it down, together with a morsel of Madeira cake on the same plate.
If only Artie were alive. He would never have left her here. He would have looked after her. Poor Artie! At the end of his life he wasn’t even able to sit on his favourite seat down at Freshwater Bay, and could only look at the windsurfers dancing on the waves through the sitting room window.
Her buttocks were sore by the time the horrible one returned. Rough hands freed her nightdress, and two arms that would not have looked out of place in the wrestling ring grabbed her frail body and moved her onto the bed. She felt her legs being lifted up and thrown down unceremoniously onto the sheet. Two sheepskin heel protectors were attached to her feet. Probing fingers invaded her mouth and removed her teeth. She wished she’d had the nerve to bite them:
“I don’t want to hear a peep out of you until the morning.”
She looked at the clock that for 50 years had taken pride of place on the mantelpiece in her and Artie’s front room:
Half past six. Only babies went to bed at half past six!
|
