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‘So, we got in touch with the school to let them know and then made our way to the hospital.’ Josie didn’t seem to need an intake of breath. ‘What a bloody palaver that was; Look Sandra I’m not being funny, with you not being from around here and all that...but, since when did we need three forms of identification to give us permission to sit around for hours on end and then, if you’re lucky, to finally get seen by a bloody foreigner. Cheeky bastards... still you’ve got to laugh.’ Sandra smiled as her stomach tightened; she carried on with her afternoon routine greeting Mable with a cheery smile.

‘I don’t know Mable these wheels seem to have a mind of their own today’, Mable glanced down at the castors on the tea-trolley. She didn’t bother to raise her head to direct her reply at Josie or Sandra, at nobody in particular really, ‘They need some Three –in- One they do, that’s what my George would say’. Mable was plucking, then pulling at her skirt; she proceeded to hitch it up, firstly, just above her knees and then as far as she could tug the floral cotton to reveal her sodden crotch. ‘Oh come on Mable’, sighed Josie as she bent down, ‘I don’t think anyone wants to see what you’ve got down there.’ Josie placed a blanket over Mable’s knees. Sandra carried on with the routine of afternoon teas.

‘My George worked the night shift you know, he could never get enough of what I’ve got down there.’ Mable had a girlish giggle then, with an unconscious stare, she looked into the distance oblivious to all activity that surrounded her.

‘Slap...slap, slap’, Mable giggled as George slapped her buttocks, sending ripples of flesh along her thighs. First he gently slapped the left and then the right buttock as he peered into the abyss of young Mable’s moistened bush. A new found freedom and unmitigated permission was theirs to enjoy along with the discoveries a newly married couple could enjoy. Everyone in their community used to say they were made for each other, of course that was before the accident and then the pit closure. ‘With two kids to feed and clothe, struggling to make ends meet. It seemed like easy money when I first started...’ Mable was talking to her inner self, her young counterpart. ‘A few quid here and there and after all it was only sex... Not what me and my George had, that was proper that was... The so called community soon turned against me.I even stopped using my Christian name. I’m no slag.’

Josie was waving her hands over the trolley in an exaggerated frenzy, like she’d just remembered something earth shattering: ‘Anyway as I was telling you, we finally gets our Phil sorted. Well he thought he’d be clever didn’t he... fancy the young nurse asking what colour plaster he wanted. We’re in Tesco and here I am pushing the bloody wheelchair when this bloke comes up and says to our Phil, It’s nice to see that someone’s in the pink and then just minces off like there’s no tomorrow... well laugh’

Mable sat in her chair with her head hung low onto her chest mumbling and drooling into the fabric of the clothing Josie had replaced. The first of the afternoon visitors had started to arrive and the two women manoeuvred the tea trolley between the ankles and flailing arms of the other residents. “I’ll get these things tidied away if you want to get off and have your break” Sandra stood with the biscuit tin in her hands looking at Josie then just burst into floods of tears.

‘Honestly, the boat didn't look that safe at all, but it was our only option, well, other than to swim of course. Admittedly from this side of the riverbank it did actually look as though a stone, with little effort, could easily be tossed into our neighbouring country. Indeed that was not the object of the exercise, the idea was to get us to the other side as swiftly and as dry as possible.

The Policia had impounded our transport, together with all of our belongings, which included the gift-wrapped items. Why this day of all days we had not been carrying our identity-cards I don’t know, just one of those things I suppose. Of course the bags would never have been searched in the first place if we had been able to comply with the officer’s request. We had crossed the border, via the bridge a hundred times and had never been asked to show any form of identification.

The outboard motor seemed to want to ask more questions than the skipper, repeatedly, rhythmically, over and over. Thankfully the interrogation didn’t last long, we were lead ashore and the skipper was paid by our awaiting shore party. No questions, it felt almost commonplace for two people to be smuggled over the border.

It was starting to get dark. Still there was no inquisition; we huddled in the back of the open pick-up truck, bouncing and jerking, high up into the remote steep hills. The whiff of the burning apple wood and the faint aroma of bruised garlic held little comfort, the seriousness of the day’s events started to hit home. My Mother turned from the sink as we went into the kitchen, that would be your Great, Great Grandmother….’ Michael sat perched on the edge of his seat, mesmerised by his Great Grandfather’s story. He’d almost forgotten about the funny smell and the mumbling old lady at the side of him who was dribbling all over her dress.

Again, it's rich material with some lovely moments. Mabel is a right character, isn't she! I'm interested to see where it's going and to see how you sustain the changing POvs.

Hello 7th Son,

Fab character in Mabel, and I am interested in reading on. The story is there to be developed.

Again the changes in thought processes threw me. And in common with section one it requires pruning to bring out a great idea/story.

Removing diversions to narrative in the form of excess words, adjectives, adverbs, descriptive phrases, will help realise the potential of an engaging story and characters. These generate the desire for more, whilst the 'fog' does make it a difficult read for me.

It has a true to life feel, which makes it like a fruity sauce, concentrated. Readers like that and with a more flowing style giving enhanced readability, this would grab and hold readers.

Greyowl59 (Charles)

Hi Greyowl59,

I can't thank you enough for your valued feedback... sometimes it helps just to know that the stuff is readable. Needless to say the comments you have made are all very valid and indeed create more food for thought.

I am in that moment when I almost know the editing and direction I would like to take although the delete button isn't too far out of reach either. I'll try and set time aside to really give this exercise a good pasting.

Again thanks for your time and knowledge.

Keep smiling...