Inkerman Writers

Freddies Fabulous Floors

Jenny always sensed the postman at the door now, even before he pushed the mail through the letterbox. But it was always the same – bills, more bills, the occasional letter and junk mail. Actually Jenny liked the junk and always opened it. It gave her a sense of power and control, like the old days – it was entirely up to her to either keep it or bin it. This morning there were two brown envelopes; one a gas bill and one she knew was from the County Court, neither of which she opened. She idly turned over what she thought was the junk mail, opening the red envelope first. Inside was a thick piece of card, also red, with black lettering in a flamboyant script, saying:

Jenny looked at the card with a mixture of delight and horror, remembering her recent forced purchase of a carpet remnant because of an unfortunate episode of flooding. It wasn’t often these days they received invitations and of course it wasn’t the sort of invitation they would normally accept - although it was an interesting address – but their lives were hardly normal any more and of late Jenny had begun to reflect on her mother ’s words the day her and John decided to get married.

‘He’s a fly-by-night Jenny – you mark my words. You’ve been taken in by his flash and it won’t last,’ she had warned.

Jenny wasn’t at all sure whether it was the marriage that wouldn’t last or the flash, but time had revealed only too painfully that it was the flash. John’s big ideas had been just too big – his ambitions far outstripping his abilities – and the only big thing in their lives now was the treadmill they found themselves on, trying to pay off their debts.

Jenny telephoned the next day to accept the invitation and was requested by a specially recorded message to leave either her regrets or acceptance. Feeling slightly unnerved and outwitted by this (she was hoping for an opportunity to find out more about the occasion) she nevertheless left her acceptance as directed.

Jenny had never been exactly sure what ‘smart-casual’ meant. It seemed to be a grey area – a no-man’s land – where the unwary could be caught out. However, she felt confident that whatever she chose to wear it would be suitable for a ‘Freddie’s Fabulous Floors’ do.

‘For heaven’s sake you’ve attended much more prestigious social gatherings than this,’ she reminded herself. (Before things had gone wrong of course – now they weren’t really accepted into polite society any more – but Jenny didn’t like to dwell on that). However, as the 21st drew closer Jenny became slightly anxious – although she would never had admitted it, she sometimes felt that their bankruptcy ‘showed’.

Reduced to a second hand Vectra (but only for the time being) they turned into Lacey Lane on the day of the Reception and found The Old Mill right at the end. It was a beautiful house in spacious landscaped grounds, the sweeping driveway heavily parked with top-of-the range cars. They ran the bell. A lady with over-bleached hair and dressed rather strangely in the same red and black colours of the invitation, asked their names, and told them to wait in the hall. After a few minutes a large jovial man with thick black hair, a deep sun tan and wearing a heavy gold neck chain appeared.

‘Come on in’, he shouted in a strangely familiar lisping voice. He guided them into a beautifully furnished room, filled with lots of people. ‘Silence, silence everyone,’ the loud man said as he hanged on a table. ‘It is Freddie’s privilege to welcome Mr and Mrs J Merrick – our 10,000th customer at the carpet warehouse, to our little Reception today. I understand they bought one of our value-for-money roll ends for their downstairs toilet, ’ he proudly continued - to Jenny’s acute embarrassment. Freddie waved over a man with a camera, directing him to stand in front of Jenny, John and himself. ‘Over here, if you please – let’s have a shot for tomorrow’s Journal. With a flourish of his left hand Freddie produced an oversized cardboard cheque - grasped Jenny ’s right hand in his, and said confidently – ‘It gives me great pleasure to present – to our 10,000th customer – a cheque for £1,000.

‘£1,000!, £1,000!’ – Jenny felt herself repeating the amount to herself like a mantra. She began to feel dizzy. In a split second she had spent it – a holiday, a new car, new clothes. She couldn’t believe it, after all their bad luck perhaps things were changing. From what seemed like far away she heard clapping, then as the clapping died down she heard Freddie ’s booming, lisping voice again and realised that he was still holding her hand.

'And we would be delighted if you would nominate a charity of your choice to receive this cheque. ’

Clapping again – or was it a deafening ringing in her ears. Jenny felt herself grab John’s jacket sleeve to stop herself from falling.

‘That’s right luv, stand close together and smile for the camera,’ said Freddie delightedly. ‘Come on, come on – you can manage a bigger smile than that – did you have sex last night?’ and he winked gleefully at her. ‘Always brings out a smile – that one,’ he said winking again – to which all the room responded with roars of laughter as the camera flashed.

Jenny, overwhelmed by rising nausea, forced her lips into a smile whilst at the same time praying that some catastrophic event would prevent publication of tomorrow ’s paper.

‘Come and have a drink and something to eat,’ said Freddie after the photo session and he steered them over to a table holding a vast amount of food.

It was then that Jenny noticed the lady with the over-bleached hair pulling at Freddie ’s sleeve.

‘Excuse me Mr Parry – can you take a telephone call please?

Parry! – Freddie Parry! No wonder his voice had sounded familiar. This creature who had humiliated her and John – who had given with one hand, and snatched away with the other was Freddie Parry - poor dim-witted Freddie who hadn ’t even been able to write his name by the time he left school.

Jenny was instantly back in Queen Street Senior’s (or Queen’s High, as she had been in the habit of describing her Alma Mater before their social demise). On the day they had left school Freddie Parry had asked her out – said she was the bonniest lass in the class. But she had looked down her nose at him in disgust – saying she didn’t know how he had the nerve.

Returning from taking his ‘phone call Freddie joined them again. ‘You never told me your first names, you two,’ he grinned.

‘Jenny and John,’ said Jenny weakly.

‘Jenny – that’s a lovely name. Do you know the first girl I ever asked out was called Jenny – by she was a bonny lass – wouldn’t have me of course – but I’ll never forget her as long as I live,’ he said fondly. ‘What do you think of the house?’ ‘Was a wreck when we bought it, but it’s done up nicely hasn’t it?’ ‘Bought it just after we stopped doing the markets and took the first warehouse.’

Synopsis : Initially victim of her mother’s ambition, and then her husband’s sexual and domestic tyranny, quiet, submissive EVELYN siezes an unexpected opportunity to free herself from the shackles of matrimonial oppression and improve her life.

The Perfect Green Line

Mother had thought Lionel such a good catch all those years ago - her reasoning was based on two facts. Firstly, she had been immediately impressed by his name.

‘Unusual, high class.’ She had declared, and she delighted in rolling the three syllables around slowly as she pronounced it. And secondly, perhaps even more important than that - he went to work in a suit.

Lionel had left school at fifteen and began work as a runner in the Despatch Department of The Trident Ball Bearing Factory. Soon he was promoted to the Accounts Department and by the time he and Evelyn got married, had been given charge of the Sales Ledger. After a few more years, the Purchase ledger was added to his remit and in due course he rose to the position of Accounts Office Manager.

When Evelyn became Mrs Lionel Parkin she of course, left work. She had expected eventually to have a child, but she never did. Evelyn couldn’t understand this, as Lionel’s requirements were constant and demanding – once he’d got the ‘hang of things’ that is. Evelyn underwent several tests that proved she was perfectly normal. Lionel had kindly said that it didn’t matter about a baby, and declined any tests that were offered to him. And over time Evelyn realised that he had been right. In fact Lionel was right about most things. Idolised by Mother until the day she died, and pandered to by Evelyn – it hadn’t take Lionel long to realise that he had an astonishing amount of power and control in his little world.

He gave Evelyn her housekeeping money every week, decided which film they would see at the pictures on Saturdays, and arranged their annual holiday to Scarborough. He encouraged economy, thrift and prudence. Evelyn accepted this as perfectly normal, after all

Lionel worked in Accounts - and Mother had advised that it was right and proper that it should be the man that took the decisions. Although how she would have known this was a bit of a mystery to Evelyn. She couldn’t remember her father and he was never talked about. But there were vague hints that he had been killed in the war, and Mother had certainly referred to herself as a widow.

Life was monotonous and predictable for the Parkin’s, and so long as Lionel was happy, Evelyn was too. Shortly after their Silver Wedding anniversary, however, Evelyn began to notice a disturbing change in Lionel. He had always had a large sexual appetite, but Evelyn had assumed that this was normal - although lately she had begun to suspect that his demands had become more of an insatiable habit, and not the token of love and affection that she had always assumed. However, she felt that it was her duty to accommodate his desires despite the fact that she was beginning to find it all a bit wearing.

It was after an acute episode of toothache when Evelyn had had to visit the Dentist, that she was given the opportunity of trying to make sense of Lionel ’s behaviour. Whilst in the Waiting Room she read an article in a magazine on the menopause. She recognised all of the symptoms mentioned and realised that this was probably why she was finding it difficult to keep up with Lionel these days. But interestingly, there was also a section entitled ‘The Male Menopause’, which Evelyn found fascinating

Apparently this could cause the male sexual appetite to increase amazingly. They got something called a ‘rise in Libido’. Evelyn had no idea what this really meant, but it seemed to fit exactly with Lionel ’s disturbing change. Well it didn’t fit exactly – Lionel’s sexual enthusiasm had another dimension, not referred to in the magazine article – this Libido thing intensified alarmingly at the end of every month, and could last up to three days.

Quite by chance the following day, as Evelyn listened to Women’s Hour, there was an item about people who were affected by the phases of the moon. It seemed that this was quite common, affected men as much as women, could be a genetic trait, or could come on suddenly later in life. Evelyn’s enlightenment was complete – the male menopause and the effects of the phases of the moon. This knowledge, of course, was of no practical benefit whatsoever to Evelyn, but it gave her a better understanding of her problem.

What Evelyn could have never have known, however, was that a girl called Julie Jones had joined the staff of the Accounts Office at The Trident Ball Bearing Factory two years ago.

To Lionel, Julie was pure Hollywood. She had shiny, bouncing blond curls, full red lips, a voluptuous chest, tiny waist, and legs – well Lionel never really got that far. She was a girl such as Lionel had never seen before in real life, and he was besotted.

It was the custom in the Accounts Office for Lionel to have someone to help him reconcile the ledgers every month end. Being the Manager, Lionel could chose who would help him and for almost two years he had chosen Julie.

Lionel lived for the end of the month when he could be alone in his office with Julie. He delighted in the sounds of her gentle breathing which made her generous chest rise and fall in a mesmerising fashion that he could just catch from the corner of his eye. He abandoned himself to the smell of her perfume, allowing it to inflame his nostrils, and he delighted in the warmth that seemed to transfer from her arm to his through his thin cotton sleeve, as their arms lay close together on the desk. Julie was his living, breathing fantasy and it was this that was the cause of his monthly erotic fervour – it had nothing at all to do with lunar cycles.

Engaged to Colin, Julie was of course, unattainable and to be honest Lionel wouldn ’t have had it any other way. However, it was left to Evelyn to sort out the chaos that Julie unknowingly created every month - it was Evelyn who had to attend to the consequences of Lionel ’s inflamed passions.

However, her dilemma was about to be addressed in a rather unexpected manner.

It was Friday the 31st May and the month end had been particularly stressful – the totals had taken quite some time to balance - and Julie had been wearing a particularly fetching red dress. When Lionel arrived home Evelyn noticed that he was grey and breathless. He complained of feeling unwell, said he felt sick and went straight up to the bathroom. Evelyn heard a clatter and when she ran up the stairs to see what had happened, Lionel was on the floor, clutching his chest and pulling at his tie.

‘Get some help, quick.’ He spoke in a hoarse whisper - his eyes bulging terrifyingly.

The ambulance seemed to take ages to arrive but when it did the ambulance men were efficient and reassuring.

‘Suspected heart attack if we aren’t mistaken, we need to get him to hospital’. And they strapped Lionel into a chair and took him off.

Evelyn was frantic with worry at first, but after a couple of days began to realise that there were many benefits to not having Lionel around. She had been freed from the tyranny of providing a roast dinner every day, the need to listen to his incessant conversation about the Accounts Office and of course his never ending sexual demands. She began to feel a great sense of peace and liberation. This new feeling was further enhanced when she picked up the large wad of notes that fell out of his trouser pocket when she brought his suit home to hang up. She had always known that he kept a roll of notes in his pocket, and whilst curious as to how much there was, had never been able to even hazard a guess as Lionel always turned his back when peeling off her housekeeping money.

With the shackles of years of domestic servitude loosened at last she decided to stop cooking altogether. She ate her usual sandwiches at lunch time, but opened a tin of soup for dinner, followed by éclair, a custard slice or perhaps a cream horn. She bought a sachet of bubble bath at Woolworth’s and a woman’s magazine and she appreciated how neat the house was, now that Lionel’s clutter didn’t have to cleared away. But best of all she re-acquainted herself with the delights of the Library. Before her marriage she had been an avid reader, but Lionel had declared that reading was an anti-social pastime – selfish in fact, and as usual she had deferred to his superior intellect, so she hadn ’t read a book in years. Not interested in Crime, or Thrillers and with no interest in Romance now, Evelyn was drawn to the Biography section, especially biographies of women.

‘It will be nice to see how the other half lives,’ she thought.

It took three weeks for Lionel to be well enough for discharge and the day before he was due home the consultant called Evelyn into his office.

‘Your husband, Mrs Parkin, has been lucky to survive such a severe heart attack. Permanent damage has been done, but with proper care there is no reason why he shouldn ’t make a reasonable recovery. However, you should be aware that he will always be vulnerable. ’ The consultants voice was brisk but kind.

‘I am going to advise a sensible diet and exercise, and try to make life as stress-free as possible for him won ’t you? His exercise should take the form of gentle walks initially, but he ought to build up to a good three miles a day as soon as he feels able and we ’ll have him back for review from time to time.’

Evelyn could only nod in agreement.

Accompanied of course on his walks by Evelyn, Lionel made good progress with his exercise programme, said he felt well and very soon, to Evelyn ’s dismay, began to partake of his other form of physical activity. Gently at first, but quickly building up to his former levels (excluding his end of the month frenzy of course – as he was still not back to work).

Taking advantage of the last days of summer, Lionel decided they should vary their walking route and take the bus out into the country. He felt a change of air would do him good. They could walk along a quiet lane, perhaps follow a bridle path and they would take a picnic.

It was pleasant in the country. They climbed over a couple of stiles and followed a lightly trodden path leading into a meadow. Strung along the middle of the meadow was an electric fence and Lionel for some reason, made a detour to follow it. Evelyn noticed with satisfaction the perfect green line underneath the electric wire – lush and uncropped on one side; dry, barren and ravaged by the beasts who had taken their fill, on the other. And with a surprising flash of insight she saw a parallel in that line of grass, between her life and that of the women whose biographies she had so recently read.

It took such a little nudge - it was all over so quickly. He only screamed once – quietly.

Evelyn was transfixed by the unnatural angle of Lionel’s neck as it hung over the wire. Bizarrely all she could think of was that it looked like the newly rung neck of a chicken, still complete with feathers, not yet plucked for the oven. Lionel too was complete. As always he had worn his suit, shirt and tie, despite the promise of a warm day. She was surprised at how normal the rest of his body looked. She knew she ought to get help but every time she tried to move, she felt as if she was being pushed down by an invisible hand. She was stupefied by shock and drained by the heat of the day.

Lionel had bent down to fasten his shoe lace and Evelyn had pushed him ever so lightly so that he was caught off balance. In fact she couldn’t really remember doing it and as the Coroner said at the Inquest, no one would ever know the exact details of Lionel ’s unfortunate demise.

You see it could not be established whether he had had a heart attack, causing him to fall onto the electric fence; or whether he had lost his balance whilst bending to tie his shoe, and had then fallen onto the fence, the shock of which caused the fatality.

After taking evidence from Lionel’s consultant; the man walking his dog who had found the couple in the field, and Evelyn herself, the Coroner reached the conclusion that the only possible verdict was that of Accidental Death. He offered Evelyn his condolences and hoped that she would eventually come to terms with her husband ’s untimely death and be able to pick up the pieces of her life and look forward with hope.

Lionel’s affairs didn’t take long to settle and Evelyn was astonished to learn that there would be a substantial sum for her. After giving her future some thought she decided upon a complete change – starting with a new name - she would now be known as Eve. She had considered Lynn, but thought it a little common – Eve, on the other hand seemed mysterious and elegant. She also decided to drop the ‘in’ from her surname and therefore she would now be known as Eve Park – but only of course, to those she was about to meet.

She invented for herself a cousin who lived in Weston Super Mare who was pressing her to go and stay. Mrs Gittins next door had been very kind during the last few weeks, although they had only ever exchanged the time of day before Lionel ’s unfortunate episode, and Evelyn discussed this ‘offer’ with her. Mrs Gittins had agreed that it would be such a good idea to get away for a while, although privately she considered this plan irrational, but put it down to the fact that poor Evelyn was probably still in a bit of a state what with the shock and everything. However, she agreed to keep Evelyn’s key - although Evelyn said she had no idea how long she would be away. She was unable to leave a forwarding address, as her cousin was in the throes of moving house but she assured Mrs Gittins that she would keep in touch.

At 10 o’clock on a crisp Autumn day with no one to judge or criticise, Evelyn set off with a small case and a purse full of money, for the Bus Station. She felt lucky to have been given a second chance. Lionel, of course, hadn’t believed in luck – said you made your own, and possibly he had been right – again - considering recent events. But Evelyn now knew that he hadn’t really believed in ‘life’ either, at least not for anyone but himself. She had no idea where she was going, but it didn’t really matter. She’d always fancied a trip to London, or perhaps the south coast would be nice – Bournemouth or Brighton maybe, somewhere where there were things going on. Somewhere where she could start again and discover who Eve Park was, and somewhere to forget who Evelyn Parkin had been.

Synopsis : Bestowed with an enviable degree of stoicism, THE JEWEL survives unspeakable conditions over many years, to at last emerge triumphant to claim her rightful place in society.

Do ‘things’ have life. Read on to find out…

The Jewel

My life began in 1899, but my story begins in 1918 amidst murder and pandemonium. I was viciously ripped from the hem of dear Alexandra’s petticoat and stuffed into the filthy pocket of the Bolshevik who stole me. The balls, the concerts, the satin lined box for resting, were brutally replaced by an itinerant and nerve racking existence.

Quite frankly I don’t know how I’ve survived, but I suspect it has a lot to do with the qualities that Carl instilled into all of us - from his exquisite little Easter eggs to his finely crafted jewellery. We were created to be special, and we all knew it. Some said we were arrogant, but I prefer to think of it as ‘confidence’, and I’m sure it was this that enabled me to endure the years of hardship I was about to face - with a stoicism only associated with breeding.

I don’t particularly want to dwell on the horrors of my incarceration however. Suffice to say that I rarely saw the light of day, and when I did, I was humiliatingly handled by obnoxious low life. You see my value, beauty and uniqueness were my strengths but also my weakness – I was possessed by those who coveted me but didn’t know what to do with me.

But joy at last! After a furtive exchange of an indescribably small amount of money I’ve been rescued, and after a rather curious journey, which I understand is called a ‘flight’, I am now in New York, (how I wish it had been Paris – such happy memories!). I am to be sold – auctioned – to the highest bidder. (Perhaps to one of those dreadful Holywood people I’ve heard about, but I suppose I shouldn’t be picky). However, in the meantime I have my very own glass cabinet where I’m resting again on a satin cushion - the centre of attention, attracting lingering glances of admiration – just like the old days! Of course I had to endure an impossible amount of undignified prodding and poking before everyone was satisfied about my provenance; and a good deal of careful attention was needed to reveal my innate sparkle, but they ’ve done a good job. The dirt and grime of years has gone. I feel myself again – delightful and desirable – well wouldn’t you after having your first bath in almost 100 years!