“That’s great,” Rose enthused. “Why didn’t you tell us you were writing novellas?”
“I didn’t think anything would come of it,” Sue conceded.
“Well, I think it’s wonderful. Now tell me again what an e-book is,” her mother said. Sue explained as best she could.
“And do you think you’ll be able to earn some money from it?” she asked.
“I hope so, although I have no idea how much, I’m so excited,” Sue grinned into the receiver as she spoke.
“So, what sort of a story is it?” Rose asked.
Ah, there was the problem, Sue opened her mouth but couldn’t quite formulate the words, erotic literature, or soft porn, not to her mam. “It’s just, sort of, women’s romance stuff, light and fluffy,” was what she went with in the end.
“I wish I could read it,” her mam lamented.
“I know, it’s a shame,” Sue said, very pleased that her parents did not own any device with which they could download items from the internet.
That night she lay in bed and marvelled at her day. She’d felt such despair, followed by anger, and then, overjoyed happiness. Maybe everything had been leading up to this point, maybe she was never meant to stay in education but become a writer instead. After all she would never have given it a go if she hadn’t been away from work, with plenty of time to kill. She smiled to herself once more, this was the thing that would help define the new her. It would be wonderful if she could make a living through writing, no more slavish dependence upon the welfare system, no more handouts from her parent’s pension pot. Gosh, never before had her emotions been so extreme in the space of one day, but then they hadn’t been quite so vulnerable to the whims of others before either.
*****
“I just can’t believe it,” Kay said once more.
“I have had sex before you know, it might have been a while ago, but I can still remember where everything goes,” Sue replied, while Rachel carried on laughing into her soup. Sue had just told her friends the nature of the novella she’d written, and it was causing great hilarity.
“I know but…” Kay shrugged, lost for words, and then lowered her voice to ask, “I mean how explicit is it?”
“Well, I’ve never read any of the genre to compare it to, but I think it’s pretty…descriptive.”
Rachel was dabbing her eyes on the napkin, mopping up the tears of laughter. They’d gone for a Chinese meal this time, and had all plumped for the hot and spicy soup for their starter; the Flower Garden offered an early bird special for nine ninety-nine. It wasn’t fantastic, but it was good value and the traditionally decorated surroundings were pleasant enough.
“I think it’s brilliant,” Rachel finally managed. “Is it all heaving bosoms and burning loins?”
“No it isn’t,” Sue tried to talk through the laughter. “I’ll have you know that such literature has moved on a long way, we no longer write in such purple prose.”
“Purple prose, is that a technical term?” Rachel asked.
“I’ve never heard it referred to as that before,” Kay smirked as she spoke.
“I don’t know,” Sue shook her head in mock despair. “Purple prose merely means over the top, Barbara Cartland gush. We modern writers don’t express ourselves in such ways.”
“Oh my,” Rachel commented.
Kay leaned forward across the table to speak, “What I want to know is, how much of the…action, is based upon personal experience.”
Sue gave a shriek that turned several heads. “I’m not telling you that.”
“All that time we worried you were sitting at home, bored, watching daytime TV, and you were in fact having a jolly old time writing dirty books,” Rachel exclaimed.
“Please, I prefer to call it erotic literature,” Sue smiled as she spoke.
“So, what is your novella called and how do we get hold of a copy?” Kay asked.
“I don’t know when it will be published yet, but you will be able to download it from E-Love, and it’s called Passion in Paradise.”
“Oh, I love the name,” Kay commented.
“So what type of…erotic literature, is it, I mean is it a mystery, a thriller, or maybe a comedy. Premature Passion in Paradise,” Kay said.
“Or, for the older ladies, Post-menopausal Passion in Paradise,” Rachel added.
“I should be writing these down,” Sue commented. “But it is a thriller, it’s about a teacher who-”
“A teacher,” it was Kay’s turn to shriek now as she interrupted her, “…it is about you.”
“No it’s not, mind you the chance of some wild abandoned sex would be nice,” Sue said, trying to spear a piece of broccoli with her chop sticks.
“That’s why you and Rachel should try speed dating, or register on a web site,” Kay said.
“Ah, you see, now she’s all loved up with Simon, she is the expert in such matters,” Rachel said.
“Is everything still going okay?” Sue asked, pleased the conversation had moved on from her.
“Yes, he’s lovely, really, really lovely.”
Sue smiled back at her Kay, she hadn’t had to say anything really, because the way her face lit up as he was mentioned was everything.
“I’m so pleased for you, I hope he realises how lucky he is,” Sue stated.
“He does, I remind him frequently,” Kay answered, and her smile grew even wider.
Later that evening, as Sue sat on the couch waiting for her back to ease and her stomach to stop feeling like it was about to explode, she thought back to the way Kay’s face had changed when Simon was mentioned and she felt so pleased for her. She only hoped he was the right one, she didn’t want to see her friend hurt once more, goodness only knows she deserved to be treated with respect. Gosh, her friend’s faces had been hilarious when she’d told them she was about to become an author of erotic literature, it certainly hadn’t been what they had expected her to say. She’d quite liked it actually, the ability to surprise, and break free from the, ‘off work and useless,’ tag for a while.
Plus, Lottie had replied to her mother’s text and phoned back the previous evening, fortunately she’d found the whole thing very entertaining, but vowed she would never, ever, want to read one of her novellas. Sue could completely understand that, it must be right up there on the scale of things never to dwell on, that and thinking about your parents having sex.
She smiled to herself once more, at least good things were happening, a new Sue for the New Year. That thought brought her mood down once more; she usually enjoyed the run up to Christmas, making cards and decorations with the children, their excitement at their class party and visit from Santa Claus. And then of course there was the nativity play, a source of endless stress, that always turned out wonderful in the end because who could resist kids dressed as angels and shepherds? But this year she dreaded the coming of Christmas because, frankly, she had no money. She’d managed to scrape a very small amount together so that she could buy Lottie a gift but otherwise she had made all of her presents for her families and friends, crochet cushions, scarves and purses, and despite everyone’s assurance they wanted nothing from her, and any homemade gifts would be so much more personal, she still felt rubbish about the whole thing. She hadn’t been able to join the hustle and bustle in the shops as she sought out the perfect something and had no money to buy any nice food for the season, until that evening of course.
They’d just finished their meal in the restaurant and walked out to the car when Kay and Rachel had asked her to come and look in the boot, and there was a huge food hamper sitting there, resplendent in cellophane and ribbon. Sue had stood and felt overcome with happiness and gratitude, she was blessed with wonderful friends and family and she should never allow herself to forget that. It was a humbling moment, which had made her feel even guiltier over her inadequate gifts. She’d hugged her friends as they’d explained there was a gift card for the local supermarket in the basket so that she could stock up on fresh go
odies, and that she’d would be receiving a delivery of logs so that she could light the fire more often and have a snug Christmas. It was as if they’d read her mind, looked at her worries and gone right, we’ll fix those. She had food and fuel, it would be a wonderful Christmas after all.
Chapter twenty-seven
February 2011
The waiting room of the Pain Management Unit was, as usual, unbearably hot. At first it came as a welcome relief from the icy winds that had almost blown Sue there, but once inside, after the first five minutes, it became incredibly uncomfortable.
“Gosh, it’s warm in here,” Sue said, addressing her comment to the small corridor space, which passed for a waiting room. She’d nodded at the other men and women seated there on arrival, wondering if they too were waiting to start the eight week course. Some had given a murmured response, others had chosen just to sit and keep themselves to themselves. It’s a strange situation you find yourself in, a group of people gathered in close proximity, but who are able, if they wish, to pretend they are completely alone.
“It is a bit stuffy,” one of the women replied. Sue thought her to be about her own age, taller and thinner with her hair worn close to her head.
Sue murmured a sound that was supposed to convey agreement, but came out mostly like a strangled grunt.
“They should have a fan or something, it is far too hot,” a man in his early fifties, with a heavy set build, grasped hold of the conversational thread and threw out a comment. Everyone nodded once more, and then fell into silence, as the subject of the stuffy nature of the waiting area seemed to have run its course.
Sue stood up, feeling slightly awkward, and deposited all her clothing she’d stripped off onto her chair. Her back was aching and she needed to move around so she went to flick through the information pamphlets, at least that way she had something to focus her gaze upon, and who knows, one of them could provide the elusive answer to her ailments. The first dealt with rheumatoid arthritis, a quick scan of the symptoms meant she could tick that one off the list of possibilities; she’d just reached fibromyalgia when a woman appeared at the end of the corridor.
“Good morning, if you are here for the pain management group would you like to come this way.”
As Sue suspected everyone stood up, apart from an older lady in grey, who looked relieved to no longer be at the end of a very long waiting line.
The room they entered was large, and not particularly welcoming. A semi-circle of chairs faced a flip chart, beside which Sue recognised the physiotherapist she’d seen in the past. His name was Ryan, he didn’t look much older that Lottie, and he still had a student air around him, with his somewhat dishevelled appearance which was mostly down to a thick head of unruly hair.
As she sat down, Sue stole a quick sideways glance at the others in the group, there were four women, including herself and two men. The woman who’d greeted them in the corridor went to the front of the room and introduced herself as Julie. Sue felt immediately uncomfortable when she announced herself to be the clinical psychologist attached to the unit. The last thing Sue wanted was someone else confirming her fears that her pain, her inability to walk far, was all in her head. Still Julie had a welcoming, open manner, her face wore an easy smile, and she seemed comfortable somehow, her voice very melodic and soothing.
“Well, some of you will know us,” she indicated herself and Ryan as she spoke, “but you probably don’t know each other. So, for around ten minutes I’d like you to talk to the person beside you and then I will ask you to introduce them to the rest of the group.”
Ice breaking exercises, Sue found them extremely embarrassing. They never helped her to relax; instead she found them awkward and unnecessary.
Nevertheless she turned to the man beside her, took a deep breath and began. “My name is Sue Bailey…” She gave him the briefest of out lines, in terms of her age, family structure, and work history, and then turned the conversation around to him. His name was Geoff, he was married, fifty eight years of age, with two grown up children and had worked as an engineer all his life, until a fall had left him with chronic back and neck pain. He found his lack of mobility very hard to deal with having been very much the, ‘man of the house,’ who saw to everything, now he felt as if he were fit for nothing. Sue could absolutely relate to that.
As each person introduced the other, the similarities kept on staking up, heads nodding in agreement.
The heavy set gentleman was called John, he’d had part of his spine fused, but had been left with horrendous pain and limited movement, forcing him to quit his job in the construction industry. The thin, tall lady from the corridor was called Claire, she suffered from arthritis. There was another woman in her mid-fifties, called Barbara, she loved her cats, and had two grandchildren, but had obviously declined to discuss her ailments. The last woman was called Jenny, she was only in her twenties, but had been left with limited mobility in her left leg, and spinal injuries after been hit by a drunk driver.
To each introduction Julie nodded, smiled and commented, before moving on to the next. Sue didn’t know how the dynamics of the group would develop or indeed whether they would gel together, but she instinctively liked Julie, and that helped her relax. She felt reassured that she was not on the course to be hijacked by someone who would dismiss her pain as an expression of a more deep rooted psychological problem, but would accept what she said without judgement. That in itself would be a refreshing, liberating experience compared to her previous relations with the NHS.
Each session lasted from ten in the morning until two in the afternoon. Upon seeing the time table Sue had become very wary, just the hours involved scared her, as she was unsure whether her body could cope. Yet the course had been sympathetically designed, it was, after all, for those who suffered from some form of chronic pain. So the morning and afternoon sessions were well broken up, with plenty of opportunity to get up and move around. In fact, from the first it had been explained to them that they could all get up, stretch, and lie down if necessary, at any time. Meanwhile, like an Aladdin’s cave for the comfortably challenged, a cupboard at the back of the room was opened to reveal an assortment of cushions and pillows, to prop around your body while seated. Lunch was to be provided, and would be eaten in the room they were in, but that didn’t mean everyone had to partake, you could head outside if you wished. The whole set up had a fluidity designed for maximum comfort in what was recognised to be a potentially uncomfortable situation, both physically and emotionally.
Not knowing what to expect after Dr Grove’s dismissal of the organisation, Sue felt she was open to anything. However what she hadn’t reckoned upon was the mental journey she would go on. She’d expected practical advice, of which there was plenty, but it was the change in her mind set that became pivotal in her ability to move on. Sue was still seeking an explanation of her ailments, who wouldn’t after the way her life had been turned upside down? But from the first Julie and Ryan made it clear that was not what they’d be offering. They welcomed the group of six onto a pathway that offered no cure, no diagnosis, but a means of living with pain, and moving forward despite it.
At first Sue found herself agreeing superficially with the principle, whilst holding on to the belief that what they said may be applicable to the others, but not to herself. She was yet to have her problems diagnosed and when that happened she would be fixed and go back to teaching.
It was during a physiotherapist appointment between the first and second session of the pain management course, that Ryan delivered the news that Sue definitely did not want to hear. It was unlikely that she would ever be free of pain. She sat and nodded, the model of perfect acceptance, while her mind screamed no. How could Ryan believe that to be so, when no one knew what was wrong with her, it was just a ridiculous statement. She would eventually get to the person who said, I recognise your symptoms and I can fix them. In the meantime she would carry on, attend the course, do her exercises and aim to be back at work in the
Spring term.
So, she felt particularly emotionally raw when she attended the second session. Oh, she greeted everyone cheerfully, joked with Ryan before they began and was the epitome of a relaxed and happy state, but her throat felt constricted from the effort and her forehead pounded with stress. Yet, ever so gradually her acceptance began. Julie was wonderful in drawing the group out, allowing them to share their experiences, if they wished, whilst maintaining a framework to the proceedings. And what Sue saw was that every single one of them was upon an emotional scale which ranged from denial, to acceptance, to building a different life. Sue was just beginning, as were others, including Geoff and possibly Claire, whereas Jenny was further along. It was, Julie explained, like a bereavement, Sue had to mourn the fact that she’d lost the life she knew, before she could move on to a new life, it wasn’t what she’d expected or planned for, but it was still worth living.
Sue had gone home after the second session and sobbed because she didn’t want to let go of the possibility of returning to, what she still viewed, as her normal life and wasn’t ready to accept this new life of pain, of trying to eke out an existence on benefits, of feeling like she was less than others who worked and contributed to society. But gradually under the skilful hands of Julie and Ryan her perceptions changed. She looked forward to each session, and felt more open to taking on board the message that was being delivered.
An Ordinary Working Man Page 15
