The Strand-on-the-Green Strongwoman

The Strand-on-the-Green Strongwoman

 

Chapter One

 

Maggie Wells stepped through the main doors of Sunnyhirst Nursing Home, took a breath of the fresh outside air. Well, as fresh as it could be amidst the incinerator that was West London on a hot August afternoon.

Her shift as a care worker completed, ahead lay a forty-five-minute tube journey from Notting Hill Gate to Hounslow West. The wind rising but only managing to stir the humid air into a carbon-dioxide infected cocktail, Maggie brushed her striking ginger shoulder-length hair away from her face and crossing the busy Bayswater Road descended the escalator to the platforms.

Late afternoon and the district line platform was crowded, no great surprise there, and Maggie’s keen blue eyes fell on a gaunt, elderly gentleman supported by a gnarled walking cane that had evidently seen better days. What concerned her more, however, was that the man stood closer to the platform than was good for him, and with a fresh influx of passengers flooding through to the platform, it would only take the slightest knock for him to finish up on the track. A disaster waiting to happen, but not if Maggie Wells had her way.

But before she could muscle her way through the gathering crowd to guide the old man to a safer position, an increasingly thunderous roar signified an approaching train.

Thwarted –

But at least the old fella had escaped the brunt of the wave of passengers that swept forward in anticipation of forcing its way into the probably crowded carriages.

Maggie sighed. Surely the man should have more sense than to travel at what was approaching rush-hour. There was no luggage, so it seemed that his time was his own, but then what did she know of his circumstances?

A few people exited the train, but with the fresh insurgence, it remained standing room only. Maggie stood back to allow the elderly man to board first but also partly to ensure that he didn’t stumble.

But stumble he did in boarding, and most alarmingly as one of a group of lads saw fit to shove the old fella back onto the platform.

Maggie caught the smirk on the yob’s face as he turned to his three mates, and she fumed as she effortlessly held the man upright, steadying him in the process.

The doors began to close, but Maggie was having none of it. Although only five-three in height, she prided herself on her exceptional strength. Surging forward, she forced her forearms between the doors and gritting her teeth, exerted her power.

She was boarding the train, and so was the old man; moreover, in the battle between Maggie and the mechanism, there was only going to be one winner, and the mechanism submitted abruptly to her muscles as she ushered the pensioner through.

Thankfully, somebody gave up their seat for him, but Maggie wasn’t finished.

From across the aisle, her eyes focused on the youth, still pratting about and joking with his mates. She was going to be late home today, and Bill would understand when she told him about the need to work late because of insufficient cover. Okay, it wasn’t strictly true, but it was work in her eyes.

The youths continued on the district line to Earl’s Court and changed onto the Richmond bound district line train. Maggie followed at a distance, selecting a seat from where she could monitor them. They disembarked at Kew, and Maggie followed some way behind as they crossed Kew Green and spent a while in a gastropub on its northern side.

Maggie sat in an alcove, discreetly observing them until they left. The little party broke up, and her target crossed Kew Bridge and turned onto the Thames towpath. Approximately five-ten she reckoned, maybe twelve stone, that characteristic stroppy walk that a lot of modern youths seemed to adopt.

Excellent. It couldn’t have been better for Maggie Wells. A stretch of fifty metres deserted apart from a couple that turned off down an alleyway. Not what she expected on a sultry evening, but she’d take the opportunity while it was there.

She quickly closed the gap. “Hey …”

The yob turned around at her call, and the force of her fist into his stomach buckled him down to her level.

Maggie curled a powerful arm around his neck, increasing the pressure as her muscles went to work, and within a few seconds, the youth was on the ground writhing in agony. But the fire remained in her eyes; her anger wasn’t assuaged. “Can you swim?”

“What the fuck is it to you?” the youth screamed.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” Maggie bent down, placed her arms beneath his prostrate body, raised him from the ground, heaved him above her head. “This is what you get for mistreating an old man.” And with that, Maggie unleashed her power, hurling the stricken man ten feet into the Thames.

 

***

Maggie stood in front of the mirror. Swept her long hair over her shoulder, bunched it up. Time for a change. She’d taken a chance in doing what she’d done. Her temper had gotten the best of her. She could have killed the prat, having wrenched his neck and hurled him into the Thames, but in the event, she hadn’t, having watched from a distance as he’d been hauled out of the Thames by a couple of passers-by.

She wondered if he’d inform the police, but being beaten up by a woman and thrown into the river wasn’t exactly going to do his ego a lot of good.

But whatever, she hadn’t thought it through. Henceforth, things would be different. Pulling it back, Maggie pictured her hair short. Surprising how such a move emphasised her powerful body. Her biceps rippled as she flexed them, and she smiled before the sound of the front door opening had her spinning abruptly around.

“Hi Mags, so you’re back,” Bill shouted as she pulled the bathroom door open. “What happened?”

“Shortage of staff,” she responded, shrugging.

“Could have let me know,” Bill responded, sounding somewhat peeved. “I was starting to worry.”

“So worried you went down the pub, I’ll bet.” Maggie swept down the stairs towards him.

Bill turned his lean, lanky frame to face her. Raised a hand through his dark, tousled hair. “Matter of fact, I did, but only for a pint. I tried calling you, but your phone was switched off.”

“Conserving the batteries,” Maggie said deadpan.

Bill caught her arm and Maggie glared. “Hey, what is it. You OK?”

Maggie stiffened. “Fine. Long day is all.”

“Only something’s bothering you,” Bill persisted.

Maggie’s eyes flashed anger as she whipped out of his hold. “Don’t push it, Bill. I’ve said I’m OK.”

“Fine. If that’s the way you want it.” The corner of Bill’s lip curled down. “I don’t know what’s got into you lately,” he muttered. “Perhaps you’d better go back to boxing. Get some of that venom out of your system.” Turning on his heels, he stormed out of the door. Maggie abruptly hurling it shut behind him.

Fine, go back to the pub.

He was lucky she didn’t unleash some of that venom on him. Bottom line, though, she needed to control her temper, but his boxing remarks stung.

She’d been outstanding as a young boxer. Been in the regional finals, set up for the nationals. Protected her head, let her powerful abdomen soak up the blows as her opponent tired, and then bingo, one punch was all she needed.

Except when it came to the final, where her opponent turned out to be a technically superior fighter. Three rounds hadn’t proved to be enough for her to land the blow, to make her strength tell. So she’d been defeated on points, and that had rankled Maggie big time, so much so that she’d quit.

Maggie didn’t feel sleepy. There was too much revolving around her mind for that, but she needed to appear to be asleep when Bill came in. She wasn’t in the mood for his questioning, and she certainly wasn’t settling for any bedroom athletics.

Lying in bed, turning her face towards the wall, Maggie’s thoughts returned to the way her anger surged up with the treatment that yob had dished out to the old man.

Well, he’d paid for it. But did it warrant the treatment her temper and muscles had dealt him?

No, probably not. But that thought spun her mind back further to her high school days.

 

***

Three girls, girls from her year, huddled together laughing. She’d spotted them around the flats where she lived, knocking on doors and running away. Fine, kids’ game; harmless enough. Until it affected older people. They didn’t need that going on in their lives. In short, it terrified them. So she had to do something about it. A few words in their ears might have done the job, would have done if they hadn’t lipped her.

They’d thought there was safety in numbers – but they soon found out otherwise. That afternoon, immediately after school to be precise – she’d known they’d be going the same way, knew roughly where they lived.

One of the girls had spotted her behind them, had swung around scowling. “You following us, you bitch? ‘Cos if you are, you’re in for a battering.”

The stupid kid had shoved her face directly into Maggie’s, and Maggie’s forehead came down with the intensity of a hammer – blood flowed profusely from the kid’s nose, but Maggie wasn’t finished.

Grabbing the stricken girl’s arm, Maggie hurled her forward with such force her two friends were grounded, and Maggie glowered over the resulting tangle of arms and legs.

Of course, there had been hell to pay when the parents, school, etc. found out. Police involvement too, but it never resulted in charges.

Thereafter she’d grown stronger, and although naturally powerful, she’d worked on it. There was nobody in the entire area, be it boy or girl, who would dare to take her on.