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Too Little, Too Late? 45

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CHAPTER 45
Larinda’s head lay on my shoulder as the twin prop droned South, Rachel snoring gently across the aisle of the half-full plane. We had seen Will off on his own flight home, and there had been tears on all sides. I fully understood how he was feeling, for while I had found acceptance both at home and where I lived, he only had us anywhere near him, and one brief glimpse of the promised land to show him what could or might be.

Grooming of children

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Some of my stories touched on child abuse and rape. I will spare my comments here, linking to a BBC report on organised grooming, but I will make one comment, in response to a man interviewed on the programme. His point was that the girls should not be out at that time of night, so it is the fault of the parents. Perhaps I am a little naive...but when did raping a child become the fault of anyone other than the rapist?

Sorry, people, but very, very angry.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b017v8cr/Grooming_Every...

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That dialectic bit

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I received a criticism of sorts a while ago because I apparently used words that did not fit within the North American experience. Of course, the world is a larger place....but I am at the moment trying to write a very different idiom, that of Geordie. I have been trawling through youtube to find some examples, so I hope this helps. One thing I did find was a whole series of videos by a voice coach, but the one he did for geordie was actually, er, crap. So...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PNMbbo5je_0&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVA59EPjV2g&feature=related

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Too Little, Too Late? 44

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CHAPTER 44
Bodies surfaced, and Jim took a turn in the kitchen with Mam to make sure the breakfasts flowed. Larinda eyed me critically.

“You do know you will be on lettuce leaves and water for the next two months, after this?”

“I can’t say no to my dear mother, can I?”

She stuck her head through the serving hatch. “Didn’t stop ye when ye were a bairn, did it?”

Too Little, Too Late? 43

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CHAPTER 43
They were soon back, and John went for the throat, as if he had been weighing it up as the other two flirted.

“Will, where’s your Mam from?”

“Valleys, up around Ponty, that area”

“In English? Bit more detail?”

Too Little, Too Late? 42

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CHAPTER 42
He sat down, and nodded round the table.

“Some of you know me, like, so let’s get that bit out of the way. What we are talking about is over thirty years ago, and I don’t know about people changing, but me, it’s more like waking up. What I was…I think these two lads…this lad and this lass know what I was”

Too Little, Too Late? 41

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CHAPTER 41
Marsden is still a lovely place, a chaotic jumble of sea-stacks and tidewrack, sand and pebbles, with the deafening sound of kittiwakes screaming their name in case they forget it. We spent a while skimming flat stones, and exploring the caves under the Rock before returning to the Grotto terrace, where Mam, Neil and Ralph were ‘hevvin’ a bit tab, like’

Too Little, Too Late? 40

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CHAPTER 40
We joined the rest a little later, somewhat more relaxed, and over breakfast we planned the day’s campaign. The morning and early afternoon for Will at the college, while three of us did the rounds of the shops, and then Neil and Mam would meet us with the cars for a drive out to the coast and an early tea. Back home, change, and into the town again for our night out.

That time of year

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Christmas. I know it is a month and a half away, but already it raises its head. I am not on top form at the moment, with the PTSD making inroads into my daily thoughts, and the usual feelings of 'unreal' and 'fraud' sitting laughing at me. As I came home today, the boss was pushing me to come out on the team Christmas do next month, and it was all I could do not to cry in front of him. He is a good friend, but he deserves better from me.

Not a good time at the moment, so whatever I write may suffer. Sorry.

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Too Little, Too Late? 39

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CHAPTER 39
It had ended up as a happy evening, with just the one slight shadow as Will broke away to call goodnight to his mother. The soft southern ears seemed to be tuning in steadily to the odd vowels and vocabulary, and once the rough and tough Northerners had played enough of their little game of confuse-a-visitor they did their best to communicate. Communication was clearly on Jim’s mind that night, especially where Rachel was concerned, and towards the end of the night a plate of sandwiches was brought over as a welcome. Rachel sniffed carefully at one.

Too Little, Too Late? 38

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CHAPTER 38
We finished off our drinks, and after a quick nod of thanks to Jim we set out for the Club. Rachel was smirking.

“That was clever of him”

I had to ask, and she explained.

“Look, we’re off somewhere else, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“Licensed premises, that have lower prices than his pub, yeah?”

“Well, aye”

Too Little, Too Late? 37

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CHAPTER 37
William left after the meal, so as not to alert his mother, and John drove off home shortly thereafter. I had a little chat with him, just before he left.

“Rob, I think I shall look at your idea at the reserve.

Revisiting my stories

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Nancy's current story sent me back to reread one or two of my own, which is an odd feeling. It was brought about by one of my male colleagues, who wanted to read some of my stuff. That brought back my thoughts as I wrote it, and I went looking for some of my memories on the net.

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Too Little, Too Late? 34

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CHAPTER 34
He looked drained, and for the first time ever I saw him look uncertain, and I wondered if he had actually been following us or just stumbled into our group as he rounded the corner. He had a copy of the Helm “Shorebirds” open in his hands, so I assumed that it was the latter.

“Hello John”

Too Little, Too Late? 33

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CHAPTER 33
I looked at him, the puzzlement plain on his face. Every minute I spent with James was a surprise. At times, he came across as mentally damaged, in the sense of speaking like a small child or someone of profoundly limited intelligence. Other times it took the appearance of OCD, especially in his persistent need to number things, or to say everybody’s name as a greeting. And then…and then there would be a break in his walls, usually when his sense of threat had faded, and there would be a bright, clever boy who very simply couldn’t get past his own mouth. Those were the times when I could see why his current Mum loved him.

Too Little, Too Late? 32

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CHAPTER 32
He was pushed right up against the window, a camera with a stupidly-long lens to his eye, and every now and again I saw his elbow give a dig to someone who had just knocked his arm. He wore a Bluetooth earpiece, and the shape and weight of his satchel suggested a number of heavy books. I leant over to Rachel and whispered in her ear.

Too Little, Too Late? 31

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CHAPTER 31
I was getting used to it. The feel of a warm presence next to me in the morning, the knowledge that I was no longer alone. I slipped as quietly as I could from the bed, and made my way via the bathroom to the kitchen.

Finally it happens! I am vindicated!

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For years and years and years I have been receiving spam. Interesting, sometimes, especially when I realise exactly how many beloved friends I have in West Africa, and how astoundingly generous they are. However, so much of the mail has been woefully misdirected.
Gambling: I don't gamble.
Job offers in the USA: bit far to commute.
Become a driving instructor: I have never, ever owned a car.
Laser eye surgery: I have 20/20 vision.
Beautiful girls wanting marriage in Foreign: er, yeah, a bit off target.
Herbal or counterfeit viagra: REALLY off target.

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Too Little, Too Late? 30

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CHAPTER 30
With Karen and Terry’s help I managed to find things I wouldn’t have thought of, including vegetarian sausages. Terry was very direct.

“Just remember, woman, that as soon as you cook these in the same pan as the meat they cease to be veggie, OK?”

Too Little, Too Late? 29

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CHAPTER 29
I looked round the long table, where about twenty people sat, laughing, joking, spilling sauce down their shirts, oblivious to the scene outside. Karen was on the other side of me from Larinda.

“What are your plans tonight, Kaz? I have a spare bed”

Too Little, Too Late? 28

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CHAPTER 28
I slept the sleep of the just that night, the just-ravished, for Larinda had been true to her word. She had lain on my shoulder, afterwards, while she went through options for William’s future, almost as if he were her own.

“What?” she demanded.

“Just, dunno, you seem to be taking charge, almost, with Will”

Too Little, Too Late? 27

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CHAPTER 27
There is a chain Mexican restaurant in the shopping complex that is Gun Wharf Quay, and while hardly authentic the food is tasty and plentiful, and they had a small booth well away from any other diners. We did, indeed, have fajitas, which are ideal for a social meal.

Too Little, Too Late? 26

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CHAPTER 26
That had been a hard one. Alec was clearly switched on, which I had expected, but it had come almost as a shock to realise how much he actually cared. I had expected the usual NHS assembly line treatment, where all the right things are said from a mask of compassion put on for each patient in turn, but he had made me realise how lucky I really was.

Too Little, Too Late? 25

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CHAPTER 25
“No, not really. I have tried, you know…”

He sighed. “Tell me, how have you presented?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you feel that others have perceived you, over the years?”

Too Little, Too Late? 24

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CHAPTER 24
I woke up once more with Larinda’s weight on me, and the knowledge that the Von problem was, if not exactly sorted, at least on a different plane. She knew, that was all. I didn’t think she was likely to torch the flat or boil lagomorphs, but there was a temper behind her Valleys persona that could burn hot or simmer slow and deep.

Hard Memory

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HARD MEMORY
Martin jerked awake as the train hit yet another older bit of track and the carriage slammed to the right before thumping him to the left again. One more stop, and then he could get back into his own quiet world, away from poxy arselicking for funds.

Too Little, Too Late? 23

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CHAPTER 23
The train rattled and shook its way down the Arun Valley, Arundel castle looming to the right, and I started looking for the Hawker Hunter jet fighter still on its plinth at what had been Ford airfield. It was almost a milk train, stopping at nearly every station on the line, passing three castles, two cathedrals and any number of harbours.

Too Little, Too Late? 22

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CHAPTER 22
I was on my own that evening, waiting for the phone to ring, but there was nothing. No Larinda, no checking up, and certainly no second thoughts. I logged onto the internet, and before I could stop myself the latest offers from Dorothy Perkins were on the screen.

Too Little, Too Late? 21

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CHAPTER 21
I lay in bed afterwards, wondering how I was going to find any more energy, ever again. Larinda was in her usual position, which involved curling up with an arm across my chest and her head on my shoulder.

Too Little, Too Late? 20

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CHAPTER 20
“Hang on a minute. I am actually here, and I don’t remember delegating the rest of my life to you two!”

Rachel gave me a look of utter disdain. “Making such a good job of it you are as well…”

Too Little, Too Late? 19

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CHAPTER 19
I was a little slow to work the next morning, which was an office day. I stopped at the coffee shop next door and bought a large filter coffee, which they called by some stupid name or other, and along with that a double espresso, which I intended to tip straight into the large white as soon as there was room.

Too Little, Too Late? 18

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CHAPTER 18
It was Neil who drove me to the airport in the end, Mam eased into the front seat of his car, and it was an emotional farewell in the car park as I insisted she didn’t walk into the terminal building. I wanted to be in control, and tears were not something I wanted photographed at the security gate.

Too Little, Too Late? 17

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CHAPTER 17
I bustled in the kitchen, catching the odd word or two as he grilled Mam, and the one question I heard clearly was when he asked her how long she had known. I walked back in at that point, just as she told him when I had revealed my Jill.

Too Little, Too Late? 16

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CHAPTER 16
I took Ian’s old bed that night, as my room was now her sewing and craft room. It was a better evening after the confrontation, and I noticed how much effort Mam was putting into how she addressed me. It was almost as if she had forgotten I was ever called Rob, and that simple act did so much to bring me back from the pain and hatred that Bell had triggered.

Too Little, Too Late? 15

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CHAPTER 15
We sat for a while, talking. That sounds banal, but it wasn’t, not at all. This wasn’t passing the time, but rather the first time I had ever been able to tell my mother who I was, a moment I had fretted and worried over, and at the same time dreamt of. She got straight to the point.

“What are we having for tea?”

Too Little, Too Late? 14

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CHAPTER 14
I paused for an attempt at thought. All my plans were collapsing around me, and it was as if I was in a river taking me where it wanted to go, regardless of how hard I swam. She sat there in Her Chair, a dumpy old woman, close-cropped grey hair giving back almost as much light as her glasses.

Too Little, Too Late? 13

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CHAPTER 13
Von was back in Hampshire a couple of days afterwards, so I had to fit in a trip down on the Monday, a day she wasn’t at work and I was able to squeeze a day’s leave in. I walked out of the Harbour station, HMS Warrior bulking beside it, and round to Gunwharf Quay, where I found her sitting in one of the coffee bars.

Too Little, Too Late? 11

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CHAPTER 11
Once more my mood was swinging, and I was bouncing between elation and despair. Larinda was somebody I could have met years ago, and now I had Siobhan to consider. The guilt was acid in my stomach, only slightly assuaged by the raw animal delight of the sex.

Too Little, Too Late? 10

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CHAPTER 10
“So…”

She turned to look at me, naked, absolutely unashamed, a slightly puzzled look on her face.

“You’ve obviously got, or had, a partner, but I can’t see her wearing clothes in size 14 as well as size 22. I know I have the odd binge and diet sort of thing, cycle, yeah, but this is silly. What…ah”

Too Little, Too Late? 9

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CHAPTER 9
There were, it turned out, more than a few sites that dealt with what I wanted, but most of them, to be honest, were either weird or simply not for me. I didn’t want some Japanese snuff-buddy, nor advice on how to exit with dignity and a terminal illness in Switzerland. Some parts of that country have struck me as a terminal illness in their own right, but never mind.

Too Little, Too Late? 8

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CHAPTER 8
“Hiya, love!”

The phone had gone almost as soon as I was on the train back from Barnes. Von had been for a job interview that morning, with an eye on finally settling everything in Hampshire and moving home. It was a conversation I really didn’t want to get drawn into.

Too Little, Too Late? 6

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CHAPTER 6
She left me with a hug, and I wondered how this was happening so fast. I hadn’t started out that day with the intention of telling anyone else at all, and there I was spilling my guts to the leading light of both Debt Management and Gossip Central. Some small voice was telling me, however, that this was one piece of gossip she could and would contain.

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