Maidens

By Michael Ball

The story based around a womens refuge, where the new found support of the handyman, (Martin Ambassador) eventually gives retribution to some of their oppressors.

At first unknowing of his affiliation, later to become apparent to some in desperate need from persecution. Charting the tale through various inmates and escapades that ultimately lead to Martin finding love within those walls, later leading to criminality and conflict in trying to save his loved one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Nov 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524665715

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© 2016 Michael Ball. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/07/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-6572-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-6571-5 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

A Haven from Crisis

Chapter Two

One Door Closes

Chapter Three

A Decisive Help

Chapter Four

An Aid to the Rescue

Chapter Five

A Reason for Retaliation

Chapter Six

A Hidden Friend

Chapter Seven

A Light of Comfort

Chapter Eight

Routine and Satisfaction

Chapter Nine

In the Old Routine

Chapter Ten

Accounts and Other Surmounts

Chapter Eleven

From the Bridge to a Harbour

Chapter Twelve

The Gathering Storm

Chapter Thirteen

In Demand as Always

Chapter Fourteen

A Miss to the Mrs

Chapter Fifteen

Resentful Consequences

Chapter Sixteen

Enemies In and Out

Chapter Seventeen

Visits and Requisites

Chapter Eighteen

Loose Connections

Chapter Nineteen

The Dust That Lays a Trail

Chapter Twenty

A Million Like Us

Chapter Twenty One

Friends and More

Chapter Twenty Two

Detective Superman

Chapter Twenty Three

Familiar Faces and Unwanted Friends

Chapter Twenty Four

Punch Ups and Reunions

Chapter Twenty Five

Love on the Stairway

Chapter Twenty Six

Snakes and Ladders

Chapter Twenty Seven

Angels First

Chapter Twenty Eight

Home and Away

Chapter Twenty Nine

Avenging Sorrow

Dedication

To

Patricia Tijerina

Anne Marie

Violet B

Thank you for inspiration, help and dedication beyond words.

Prologue

From the first breath the anger is born

To those of less defensive form.

Redeem the will as right of man,

That disregards due punishment

From death to near death consequence

Where penitence and judgement served

Is insult to all life and soul

Where freedom reigns, protection fraught

Nothing will change, nothing will bless

To help those maidens in distress.

Though from the fortune’s lottery

Comes one whose heart is set to free

The grieving put upon the poor wretched

And rescue maidens in distress

Chapter One

A Haven from Crisis

I n a hardware shop on the outskirts of Meriden, an average-sized town in England, a shop assistant is surprised by his visitor.

Jim, what a surprise! What are you doing so far from home?

Some business I have to settle.

What? Here in my shop?

No, I was passing thru and I saw the sign. I couldn’t believe it and then I remembered. It couldn’t be, but it is.

They went on to talk of old times, and soon enough, whilst looking around to see no one else was in earshot, his friend blurted out the reason for being there.

Remember Barbara?

Your partner? She’s pregnant isn’t she?

Yes, by another man by all accounts. The bastard!

Jim leaned forward to whisper. I didn’t half give her what for. Wouldn’t you do the same, John?

It depends, maybe not if she was pregnant.

You don’t know until you’re faced with blinding deceit. Out of the blue it was, catching them both at it. And me sharing that council house, even if it was in her name.

John had a customer. Just a minute, Jim. Yes, Sir?

John served his customer and they resumed their conversation.

Again Jim looked around, like a spy giving a password. I’ll strangle that bitch. She’s done a runner on me and, you know, I can’t even get in the place. I tell you, I’ll kill the cow before anyone else touches her.

Jim, you can’t be serious! It’s like putting a noose ’round your neck. Do you realise what you’ve said?

Jim stamped his hand on the counter and whispered louder. You don’t understand until you’ve been in my position. You haven’t got a clue. I loved that bitch even though I had to tell her who’s boss every time I belted her.

Eyeing the shop for other people, he sneakily placed some paper on the desk, and retrieved a pen from his jacket. Anyway, perhaps you can help me. Her mother lives five miles north, but she’s not there. I’ve been watching. What about places to stay for runaways, even hostels or some kind of a retreat-what do they call them, women’s shelters?

John knew of a few places, but he had the sense not to tell him. I’m afraid that’s out of my league, Jim. You should go to the C.A.B. or the council, they might help. But my advice to you is to sit down and have a hard think. I know how you feel, but it’ll lead to no satisfaction, believe me. Just try and forget it.

Jim’s face changed as he grew angry. You haven’t a clue, have you? You know, John, I thought you were my friend. I’m even more determined now to finish what I came here to start. A fat lot of help you are!

But, Jim. Listen. Can’t you just leave it at that?

He did, as he banged his hand down and left almost knocking a customer over on the way out.

What the shopkeeper hadn’t seen was that his friend had stuffed a kitchen knife down his belt, unpaid for, of course. This hadn’t gone unnoticed by another shopper who’d seen what he’d done and was in the next isle listening to the illuminated conversation between the so called friends.

In a nearby shopping precinct, seated on a bench facing a supermarket were two young women-one attractive, the other in her late thirties, already weary of life. They met for the first time. Jacqueline, the youngest, recognised the other as the lady who’d recently moved into the residence where she stayed. Both had meagre amounts of shopping and dressed to not attract attention. They were without makeup. One wore a scarf and a long dress. The older, grey-haired woman wore loose fitting trousers, making her already full figure appear close to obese. Discussing their situation, Jacqueline could see thru the makeup, where the shadow of a severely beaten face was still evident. The vain attempt of a powder covering was washed off by the drizzle of a typical spring day.

How are you managing then?

I thought I recognised you. Barbara replied with a relieved look on her face, all the time looking this way and that as though she was expecting someone.

You’re on the same landing aren’t you?

Yes. I saw you yesterday when you moved in. I was coming out of the toilet. You haven’t answered my question. How are you?

Ask me in a week’s time. It’s all a blur at the moment. I don’t know whether I’m here or there.

Where is there?

Twenty-five miles away and in hell. I still can’t believe I escaped that monster, but is this far enough?

Believe me. What’s your name?

Barbara. At least that’s the name I’m sticking to. She had pulled at her coat buttons in justification.

Barbara. I knew a Barbara. I won’t ask you your real name. It’s not done.

She offered her a cigarette but Jacqueline refused.

Believe me, this is far enough. I’ve been there six months and as each day goes by, you’ll feel stronger. You will, I promise.

Barbara inhaled deeply to reply, I’ll believe that when I see my young’un able to sleep at night.

Yes. I saw your little boy, about six or seven, is he?

Seven and he hopes he’s nothing like his father.

Jacqueline noticed there was no ring.

You’re not married then?

Thank heavens, no. He’s my partner. Partner to destruction. I met him in a pub. Meet the worst because they have worst drink in those places. I should have known better. She looked at her friend and asked her name.

"Jacqueline. That’s my passport to the land of hope. I’ve always wanted to be called Jacqueline and who’d have thought I’d have to run the gauntlet to do so.

I don’t have to ask what you’ve been thru. It’s similar to all of us. Some will learn and some will be desperate again.

Barbara snubbed out her last. Does my smoking annoy you?

A little. My boyfriend smoked one after another. He’ll get more than ever now.

Why, has he come into money?

No. He’s in prison doing six months for assault. Men. The greatest deceivers on the planet.

"That’s just one of their spiteful qualities. Sounds like we’re both at the same crossroads, heading off to dreamland for some mystical figure shown on screen, whereas in reality, all they do is make you want to scream.

And bash their heads in.

Barbara smiled as her friend’s hand came down to demonstrate.

Yes that’s it. Let’s join the bash-your-heads-in-brigade. I’ll be the chief mallet bopper. She gave her an explanatory look. That means I get first option to wallop.

Both of them laughed as Barbara stood up first, almost forgetting tonight’s meal. Two other people got off the open-backed seat, one after another as though they were friends of each other. Barbara saw her friend hesitate. You coming, or have you got a date?

You must be…

I was only kidding.

Jacqueline saw her squinting as though she wasn’t sure.

Are you positive you’re not waiting for someone?

As positive as I am of my partner being the last person on earth I’d want to see.

Come on, I’m going back, are you?

Yes. Peter will be back from school and I must be home. Sorry, at the flat. I mean at the place when he gets back.

They walked out of the mall towards the bus stops.

Barbara?

Yes, what is it?

Always keep your voice down when you’re in a quiet place. I know the precinct was noisy, but it’s worth remembering, especially when you’re on a bench or seat. We’re vulnerable and you never know who’s next to you, who might be picking things up.

I’ll remember that. Thank you, my dearie.

They were nearing their stop. There was a line of five shelters at the back of the shops.

Number twenty’s the quickest. It’s due in five minutes.

Jacqueline recalled the first time she’d used that bus as they sat in the waiting area. Some fella overheard me talking to a girl called June. She’s left now. He followed me all the way back to the park.

Did he see where you stayed?

No, I lost him when some children were on a run from school and made a dash thru the trees. But my heart was pounding like hell.

Boy, you were lucky.

That’s why I always prefer to go out with someone like Marjory, the one that works voluntary in the kitchen. She’s ill at the moment, so I’m glad I met you.

Likewise.

Going upstairs, out of the generally crowded lower deck, they discussed their experiences prior to moving into the shelter, making sure no nearby passengers could hear them.

Jacqueline went on to speak of the seclusion and whereabouts of their hideaway.

It’s anything but convenient, I know. But what else can we do? Joan says get a taxi, but how can we afford taxis every week? There’s the river and bridge to cross, not forgetting the railway and that busy roundabout. A child got run over last year, on a bike he was, fifty yards from home and this lorry. Oh, it was awful! That was when I first moved in. What an introduction.

Did they save him?

Here’s our stop. Yes, two broken legs, but not a broken heart. So you be careful.

Three long stops from the town drove them to the edge of a park. A shortcut thru it would save them five to ten minutes, depending on the route they’d take. Eight other passengers got off with them. It began to rain and both of them rushed thru the long arch of trees that would lead them to an open area of fifty yards. They went out and across the roundabout, over a small bridge and down away from the obstacle course to their haven. As they crossed the busy roundabout, Jacqueline remarked on the spot where the child had been injured.

You see how dangerous this is? People won’t cross here. They’d sooner cross to the island rather than use this crossing. There used to be a bus, but like everything else, the motorist comes first.

As they descended down on the other side of the bridge, only yards from their residence, they heard the distant screech of what sounded like a car braking, followed by a muffled smash of glass.

I told you. We can even hear that from our place when the windows are open. Must be another one nearby. Listen to those horns.

A half an hour after returning, Mary, the head volunteer at the women’s rescue, apologised to one of the girls with a baby for being late. Her name was Gillian, but liked to be called Joe.

Seemingly out of breath, Mary told the tale as she took her coat off.

There was a diversion. I’m sorry I’m late. There was a terrible accident on the roundabout. Luckily, after being stuck for ten minutes, I managed to turn the car around opposite Wesley Avenue and Bob’s your uncle.

Did you see anything? asked Joe, hoping to be the first to tell the others of a gory incident.

Yes, two ambulances and a police car, flashing lights and people walking towards goodness knows what. No doubt we’ll hear about it on the news.

I wonder if they’re still there. I could take Jimmy for a walk. You never know.

Mary was more sensible. I wouldn’t if I were you, Joe. It’s not something you’d want anyone to see. They’ll be well gone by now.

I suppose so, though we don’t get much fun in here.

‘Much fun,’ Mary almost spoke to rebuke, stopping only when another guest came down the stairs.

Upstairs on the first floor, Barbara knocked on the door of her friend. Greeting her at the door, her friend expressed interest. Did you hear those ambulances and the sirens? I wonder how many are injured.

Come in. I’ve watched them from my window. See? You can see the flashing lights. Must be near the roundabout.

Barbara pushed the curtains back. It could have been us if we’d have been a minute or so later.

A minute! We were only seconds away when we heard the crash. Boy, it makes you wonder, doesn’t it, Barbara?

There for the grace of.

It’s probably a near miss anyway. What are we going on about? All the same, something should be done about that spot. Put traffic lights somewhere, anywhere near that corner.

Later that Friday evening, the caretaker, who usually stayed until midnight but lately left at six, was expectant of more calls coming in for temporary admissions. After all, this was the busiest night of the week. The only blessing, if you could call it a blessing, was that invariably, the women would often stay for only one night or two. When their unpredictable partner or husband had ‘seen the light,’ albeit, coming out of a temper sometimes induced by booze, other times realising they needed someone to cook for and wipe their bib and make the bed warm, in more ways than one.

And so it was this Friday, two girls arrived an hour apart. On had been in a drunken lover’s fight outside a pub, the other was badly bruised from a trivial argument with her immature husband, having tantrums at the smallest disagreement or whim. It would have been better for both of the offenders if they were caged for life at some local zoo, or marked so the public could see the character they were up against-strong words, but most of the inmates had that train of thought upon entering. It was another story when they left and went out into the world. Some were willing to compromise. But compromise in those situations is to compromise happiness.

That evening Jacqueline had invited Barbara in for a chat, saying as she sat down, "My tele is bigger than yours and has got more channels. Even the remote works.’

Jacqueline asked her friend where her son was.

He’s in our room, getting on with one of the other kids. You’d think they were brothers. I tell you, Jackie. May I call you Jackie?

Most do, except my former partner. He’s called me all the names under the sun, whatever suited his moods.

Well, it may be tiny, but…this is like heaven compared with that council house. On Friday and Saturday nights, I half expect him to come in and create havoc over nothing at all.

I know. The worst thing… What am I saying, one of the worst things you can do is give them a second chance, no matter what. Are you listening?

Barbara was peering round the small room.Yes.

No matter what it is, however trivial, they’re signs of things to come. Cut it off there. Don’t give the beggars a second chance. I know it might hurt, but it’s better in the long run and if you’ve children, that’s even more reason.

I understand, but when you have nowhere else to go, no one to turn to, what else is there?

I know it’s a hard lesson to learn, but you have to put your foot down. Now what’s on the box? Jackie searched for the remote in the hope that temporarily she’d get away from the overwhelming thoughts amongst all within those walls. Seeing the news on one channel, she quickly searched for something more light hearted. Talent shows. Do you watch them? Jackie asked optimistically.

Now and again. In the last few days I’ve not been able to enjoy anything.

They both listened, but Barbara’s thoughts were elsewhere.He says someday he hopes to write a song. He’ll have to sing first. Did you hear him last time?

No. I don’t know. They sound all the same.

Exactly, and he’s the winner. He’d be better off driving a tractor on a farm. In fact, when he opens his mouth, he sounds like he’s being chased by a bull.

Barbara smiled. What’s on the other?

Two channels later, Jackie saw the end titles going up. Missed it again. You bet the news is coming on or the weather. I miss my DVD. There you are. Following the news it says we’ll hear the world situation, the never ending starving, living in the dark ages. That’s all we ever hear.

Keep it on. The local follows. I like to keep in touch.

Um, whatever. You are my guest.

Jackie smiled as she lit a cigarette. Barbara was tolerant on most things, wanting to hear both sides of any discussion or situation, whereas her younger friend was the opposite, something you wouldn’t expect from the younger generation.

Jackie stood up and asked if she’d like some coffee. Barbara agreed, although tea was her preferred drink. Five minutes later when she was filling the cups, Barbara told her friend to be quiet. Listen. Did you hear what he said?

Who?

The reporter, Jimmy What’s-his-name?

Is that his real name?

No! He was talking of the accident at the Grange roundabout.

Jackie sat down and watched the screen giving an off-air commentary. Oh, there’s the pub and the bus stop. What a mess, right into that tree. Surely they must be dead.

He did say he died, said Barbara wistfully.

There you are. I knew it when I heard that noise. I knew there was more to it than a curse and give me the name of your insurance. They both kept quiet until the report ended.

Jackie spoke first to the sound of tinkling silver, whilst Barbara echoed the summary. Not until relatives are informed.

"But how can they inform relatives when they don’t know who he is?

They find out, silly. They eventually find out, said Barbara with a strange feeling of loss.

That poor bleeder and the driver of that lorry never had so much as a nose bleed. I bet even his apples weren’t bruised. (He was driving a greengrocer’s lorry, heavily loaded with fruit.)

Barbara began to wonder. Did you hear what he said at the end?

Goodbye, I hope, Jackie said being her usual self.

No, the police had found forged credit cards and a lot of cash on him and get this, a knife. His hand was holding a six-inch knife.

Maybe he was going to murder the lorry driver.

Barbara ignored such a comment.

Is that all? No identification, no passport or…

No. But they said a photograph would be revealed later. They didn’t provide a description of what was on the photo.

It could be an animal, a dog or a cat, or maybe a budgie. Some people recognise their budgie, you know. Once more, Jackie made light of the situation.

This is serious. Some poor soul could be on tenterhooks at this very moment.

Aye, and some poor budgie could be going without seed.

Jackie! Are you always like this?

You have to be in this place. Don’t you think I miss what I’ve been used to? They’re all the same, I suppose. She was referring to men. Much as she criticised them, she couldn’t change her make-up.

Her friend continued to fill her in.

You missed the beginning.

What, the names of the actors? She answered her own question. I never take notice of who stars…

No! There you go again. You’re not that dumb.

I should hope not. That’s what my mother used to say when I was trying to get out of something or other.

They said… the police. I mean they said that the lorry driver thinks he was pushed.

Not drunk then?

No! The man that was killed, they said the lorry driver thought he saw another man shove him into the road.

The witness for the defence gave evidence.

He could have tripped. How could he watch two things at once, after all he’d have his bananas and grapes and whatever to look after. How could he be sure?

That’s what he said. That’s all I’m saying.

Well, the court will be adjourned until tomorrow at nine, when God willing, we will be served with malted milk biscuits and more coffee, expenditure permitted of course.

You can’t stop, can you? But I don’t mind. Barbara asked if there were any biscuits. Then quickly, last night’s leftovers, a small plate of chocolate digestives, was placed on the table. They were soft but tasty.

The rest of the evening was like heaven for Barbara, as they both watched a thriller till the early hours without little interruptions, apart from checking on her son, giving him his supper and telling him to go to bed before midnight.

It would take a while before Barbara could get out of the nagging thought that at any moment, her Darren would be barging thru the door like an animal, either wagging his tail or growling, ready to pounce at the first disagreeable opportunity. But this was all part of the change and her attempted breakaway to normality.

Chapter Two

One Door Closes

C rying could be heard regularly thru the thin walls. After all, the place had been converted from a public house to accommodate as many rooms as were habitable, while trying to give space for communal gatherings (the common room), in the largest room downstairs. Often women were asked to share in desperate situations, where only an overnight stay was envisaged by the person or persons they were asked to share with. Eventually longer term residents were housed (if they were lucky) in council flats seemingly sometimes on first reflection going from ‘the frying pan, into the fire.’ where unsociable neighbours could cause as much a problem as their partner or spouse.

Residents who were leaving were asked only to communicate with the shelter via the phone, and never to return without mentioning their circumstances, for as often as not, their adversary surfaced to cause further misery to themselves and to the occupants of the shelter.

The notice board downstairs often displayed other help lines and services, anything that would be of use to the residents, but ‘caution’ was the keyword at all times.

The following day, Mary, the most amiable of staff, was pinning a card to the notice board when she was watched from behind by Jackie, who was showing interest in the ad.

Can you trust them all in here?

You mean this notice?

Yes, a handyman wanted. Why not a handywoman?

They’re simply none such, at least not in this area. We had a regular, but he died. Of course they’d be investigated first, and as you can see, on no account do you give them this number. I know who’s in here and I know their backgrounds.

She turned as if to vindicate her authority.

A big responsibility. My my, we’ll rest in our beds tonight.

Jackie turned away and began to whistle. Resting on the stair rail, she asked if Mary had heard any more about the accident.

Only what the papers say. Here, I left it in my coat.

Mary went to her little office and retrieved the local from her coat pocket. Can I borrow it for five minutes? She looked at her innocently.

Don’t tear it, then my husband complains. You understand?

Five minutes.

Jackie climbed the stairs reading the headlines and opening her door without taking her eyes off the paper. Two minutes later, she called out to Barbara who was getting her coat on, chancing a walk about. Barbara, the evidence is in. They’ve put a photo in the paper, see.

Barbara came to her door as her friend was finishing the last paragraph.

Still haven’t got his name, though. Here, what do you think? Not very good but it’s unusual. Why only him and a kid? Must be no more than three. Good looking, though.

Barbara had the paper upside down and dismissively turned it the right way up. It was as though she saw an old dead relative. Her hands shook and her eyes couldn’t believe what she saw.

Barbara, is it someone you know?

Jackie knew immediately there was some connection.

Come inside dear and sit down. Tell me all about it.

The silence conveyed its own seriousness. Jackie moved over and laid her hand on her shoulder. It’s him, isn’t it?

Yes. I remember the photo. Happier times they were, but not for long. I can’t believe it. Why am I getting upset? I should be laughing. I should, but I’m not sure. I just can’t believe it.

Her friend picked the paper up to again see the man that she hated, the man that looked like every girl’s dream, every boy’s dad.

Do you know what this means, Jackie?

Yes. You’re free. You’re one of the lucky ones in this hideaway from uncertainty.

No, no, think on. Think of where he was killed, near here. Why was he so near?

He must have been… almost too afraid to mention the obvious, Jackie let Barbara answer.

Following me, all the way from the town. Remember you said be careful of what you say outside, or was it in quiet places?

Whatever it was, love, it’s proved his undoing.

Jackie sat opposite and looked her in the face.

Maybe it was meant to happen. Think about it. A Godsend, whatever it was. You’re free of him now.

Picking the paper up again, in case it was all a dream, she touched the image.

You’re sure, you’re definite?

Positive. I’m positive, but how will Johnny react?

Did he love him?

No. He hated him for hitting me, and I could have murdered him for hitting my son.

There you are then. Why the tragic face and the solemn words?

Just someone I knew and thought I loved in better times, but all along I didn’t really love him, Jackie, I didn’t really like him. Even if he was the greatest father, I didn’t really love him.

I don’t like to say this, but you’d better ring the police.

I suppose so. I’ll tell Mary downstairs. Maybe she could arrange a visit.

Perk up, girl, this time next week you could be back in your house. Invite me and who knows…, who knows.

Was it an accident? Like I’d like to think so, or…oh, what am I saying? I can’t think straight.

Or was it deliberate. That’s for the police to find out. Did you know his parents?

No. He was angry if I ever asked about them. You’d think he was an orphan and knew he was ditched. I’ve got a bruise on more than one occasion trying to approach the question. I learned never to ask again.

"What a man, or whatever he was. You are well rid of him. You see, in a few days, maybe even before then, you’ll think you’ve won the