The Womens' Reading Group.

Note. This is the first chapter of a new novel and has been revised to take in the full chapter. The book is character-driven and therefore the chapters are longer than normal.

She headed up the steps towards the building, keeping her umbrella facing into the wind, her head down low, her body hunched under a plastic mac that was already beginning to leak. Her sensible brown shoes kept her feet dry in the sudden downpour, but her hands were wet and white where her fingers gripped both her brolly and her capacious handbag.
For such a small women her paraphernalia seemed almost ludicrous, but May wasn’t used to going out so she had come prepared. Outside the library she looked again at the poster that advertised tonight’s event and wondered for the umpteen time if she would ever summon up the courage to actually go inside.
Her mind was made up for her by the arrival of a large women laden down with books, bags and keys. May guessed correctly that this was the group leader, Diane Fairborn.
‘Hello there, be a dear and hold these for me,’ she said, topping up May’s already full arms with her books and carrier bags. The key inserted in the lock she opened up quickly and bustled inside, sweeping up the tiny woman in the haste of her passing.
‘What a night!’ she said, stating the obvious. Though it was perhaps a bit unseasonable for early September. ‘Hot tea, that’s what we need. Oh I do so hope the other’s will turn up, only this beastly rain is enough to put anyone off. You must be May, I’m Diane, ‘ she pumped May’s hand up and down still chattering on in a most unseemly way as she then moved on to setting out cups and saucers.
‘I wonder if mugs would be better, no, I think we’ll wait and see. Do hang your coat up May, it’s dripping everywhere, now where did I put that display…Ah, it’s in here.’
Poor May was quite disturbed by the whole business, but somehow she knew she couldn’t just sneak away from Diane. There was something about the woman that suggested those sterling English qualities, determination, organisation and supreme confidence. In fact all those qualities so lacking in her own make-up. Perhaps the rest of the group would be less overwhelming, more like herself, or just less, well’ boisterous’ came to mind.

She thought back to the day when the idea has been proposed to her. She had been in the nurse’s room having her blood pressure taken when suddenly she just burst into tears. A full three months since she’d buried her beloved Bert and everyone had said how well she’d coped. Now she sat in the surgery wringing her hands and sobbing as if he’d just died. Nurse Wilkinson had been marvellous, holding her gently and waiting until the storm of weeping had passed. Then she’d talked long and compassionately about how bereavement can just creep up on someone months, even years after the event. She’d suggested grief counselling but May could not talk to strangers about her feelings, it just wasn’t done in her generation. It was no use being told that sixty-eight wasn’t old. She felt old and worn out. She also felt terribly lonely. There wasn’t any way she would become a burden on her children and grandchildren, anyway, she was in good health. The nurse had nodded and then had come out with the idea that she, at her age, should join an evening class. There was no possibility of doing that, the very idea horrified her. When had she ever had time for hobbies? Not with helping her mother with the younger children and later looking after her own brood. Nursing Bert didn’t leave time for anything but reading and she devoured every book she could get her hands on.
‘Well why not join the library’s women’s group?’ the nurse had asked. She promised to think about it but had done nothing until a week ago. Now she was scared.

‘May? Are you alright? I want to know how you take your tea?’ Diane asked.
‘Oh, dear me, I’m so sorry. I was wool-gathering I’m afraid. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all?’
‘Nonsense, you are just the sort we need here. I have your library records, you certainly read a lot and we can always do with a mature point of view in our group.’
At that moment the door swung open and two women came in together. The taller one looked to be in her mid-fifties and was curiously dressed in layers of what looked like stage costumes. Her long blonde hair fell about her shoulders which were covered by some sort of cape. The other woman was younger by about maybe ten years, it was difficult to tell as she was so nondescript. May knew that she dressed her age, but this woman looked as if she’d come straight from a charity shop, dressed in men’s clothing.
They were obviously regulars as Diane greeted them both enthusiastically.
‘Leonora, so good to see you. Debra, wonderful outfit, Oxfam I presume?’ The last remark was made to the dumpier woman. Both hung up their dripping outerwear and eagerly came forward to help themselves to the now stewed tea.
‘Sorry girls, no cocoa tonight, no biscuits either. I couldn’t make the shops in time.’
Leonora brought out a bag which she’d obviously had under her cape.
‘I made some shortbread,’ she beamed, ‘I thought it would go down well.’ She placed the package on the table and glanced at the clock which showed the time as seven twenty-five.
‘It looks as if the others aren’t going to make it,’ she pronounced as she swept her gaze over the gathering. May tried to shrink down in the chair but she had been spotted. However, the woman didn’t leave her seat, but just introduced herself and said she was pleased that May had joined them. Debra was a little more formal, leaning over to shake hands.
‘Hello May, you must be feeling a bit awkward, I know I did until Leo took me under her wing. I promise you it isn’t always this quiet, but sometimes the first night of the new term is always a bit hit and miss.’
May assured her that she understood, though by now all she wanted to do was to escape. What on earth had she been thinking? To join a reading and discussion group at her age was pathetic. What could she offer such colourful characters? A blast of cold air announced more arrivals, this time two women and a girl who was hardly out of her teens.
‘Hi Suzy, Hi Kate, come in, I’ll put the kettle on again.’ Diane was either ignoring the girl or she didn’t know who she was. Leonora wasn’t going to let that slip past her.
‘Hi there,’ she said to the girl who was looking uncomfortable .’I’m Leonora, you can call me Leo. This is Debs, we live together. That’s May sat near the blackboard and Diane is the group leader. What do we call you?’
May thought the girl was probably feeling like she did. She was a scrawny little thing, barely sixteen if that and her black clothes suggested she was either in mourning or one of the fashion types that people galled Goths. She squirmed in her seat and then muttered,
‘Jane, as in plain Jane and I don’t intend to stay here. She…’ pointing at the women addressed as Kate , ‘made me come with her. Couldn’t get a sitter, knows I’d leg it anyway as soon as she left the house.’
Nobody looked in the slightest bit interested and May wondered if this had happened before. Now that she looked hard the resemblance between mother and daughter was noticeable. Kate looked like an ordinary housewife, probably in her late thirties, early forties. Suzy was an attractive brunette but there was something about her that made May edgy.
Diane came back out from the kitchen with more tea and some mugs. She glanced around the group and appeared to have made up her mind that nobody else was coming.
‘Help yourself to tea,’ she said, ‘I’ll just get the material together.’
There was some hasty scraping of chairs as people filled up their cups. May didn’t bother, she knew it would upset her weak bladder and, as yet, she hadn’t plucked up the courage to ask where the toilet was. Years of borrowing books from the mobile service had left her unaware how much things had changed. Now the library had computers and things like DVD’s and Videos. That kind of thing had never bothered her as long as she had her books to read.

Now Diane moved to stand in front of the little group. The clock ticked out the hour of eight as she started her brief introduction.
‘For the benefit of our newcomer, May, I just need to go through a few things. The Women’s Reading Group has been running for nearly two years now. We meet every Monday between seven pm and nine pm except during school holidays as the library shuts early then. At the start of the new term I hand out copies of the new books chosen for discussion. These are read in your own time and discussions only start when the majority of the group have had time to read the book. We normally have a group of between seven and twelve, so latecomers may have to wait until the set book is read. Sometimes we have guest speakers but these events are usually held at the city library where numbers are much larger. Some of our members,’ here she looked across to Leonora, ‘hold their own friendship groups. I must make this clear that the library has no control over these casual events. Each group member must take care of their own book and see it is returned in pristine condition. Does anyone have any questions?’
The room stayed quiet, apart from a few rustlings of papers and a squeaky chair.
‘Right then. This weeks book is the highly acclaimed “The Hidden Way” by Nancy Foster. Each copy has a printed sheet of discussion points in the back. I hope that this time the group will decide to follow the set discussion and not to degenerate into another slanging match.’
May caught Leonora’s eye and she swore the woman winked at her. Perhaps she agreed that Diane’s stuffy tone of voice belonged more in a school playground than in an adult group. The books were handed out with a reverence bordering on the ridiculous, though May took her copy with shaking hands. This was a hard-back edition of one of her favourite authors. Normally she would have waited more than a year to either buy or borrow it in the paperback version. It was worth the effort of coming to the group for this perk alone. From the smiles on other faces most of the group shared her sentiments. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as bad as she had at first thought.
Diane had obviously decided that there was no point in going any further tonight. May followed her and Debra through to the little kitchen where she helped to wash up the cups and mugs. In the corner of the room she saw a staff toilet and asked to use it. Grudgingly Diane agreed. The woman’s attitude puzzled her, but then May had not been out very much for years now. Perhaps there was more vandalism than she’d experienced herself. The people who lived near her were mostly elderly as well, but the few younger couples with children were polite and helpful. She emerged to find Debra handing out carrier bags to those that had not thought to bring any. These were to keep the precious books dry.
‘Well ladies, that’s all for this week, ‘ announced Leonora,’ time for a swift drink, I think.’
There was plenty of agreements for that and May wished she had the nerve to join them. But some things were not done anymore by people of her age. Bert had been older than her and she had felt safe entering a pub with him. Even when the cancer had started to make him sick he had still enjoyed taking her down to their local for a Sunday drink. No, she thought as she put her coat on, single women of her age didn’t go into pubs.
She was walking towards the door when Leonora put a hand out to stop her.
‘Aren’t you going to join us, May? You would be very welcome.’ Her tone was light but there was such warmth in it that she nearly changed her mind. Then she thought of entering the dark house on her own and making sure that Marmalade, her tabby cat was in for the night.
‘Thank you, my dear, that’s very kind of you, but maybe another time.’ She might have said more but Suzy was clearly keen to leave as soon as possible. There was the smell of stale drink on her breath and May wondered if the woman had a problem. She clearly heard the voice of Bert in her head then, just as she always had when he was being “cheeky”.
‘Leave the lass alone until you know more, ‘ she heard him say. Sound advice that she took immediately. Besides, she had a bus to catch and a nice bit of haddock to share with Marmalade for their supper. Then she could curl up in bed and allow herself to read just one chapter of her book. Maybe she would even think about baking again. It had been so long since she bothered cooking properly. She called out a cheerful “Goodnight” to the group and as she walked to the bus-stop her mind was already on the choices between her feather-light angel cake and her moist carrot cake.

*

Leo sat in front of her huge vanity mirror and wryly pulled a face at her own reflection. Debs carried on brushing the long hair, counting each stroke as if it was a litany of love.
‘What’s the matter, Leo?’ she said, noticing her expression.
‘I’ve got grey roots coming back again, damn, it takes so long to dye this mop maybe I should go grey or chop the lot off.’
Debs looked alarmed. She’d known Leo long enough to know that such seemingly casual remarks were anything but. If her friend decided on something then she was apt to just go and do it on the spur of the moment.
‘Don’t even think of it she said, ‘ her face starting to crumple with tears. ‘You know how much I love your long hair. I’ll do it for you on the weekend.’
The older woman smiled and pressed her hand against Deb’s cheek. She knew that other people, especially women, thought her vain, but her hair had always been her pride and glory. If they could see her mirror they would be even more convinced of her eccentricity. After all, women in their late fifties were supposed to start aging gracefully. When she’d been a child following her mother about from stage to stage people remarked on her hair, never noticing the plain face that went with it. Or so her mother had said. Leo had not followed her mother into theatre, but neither had she followed a conventional life-style. Her quick mind had guaranteed her a place in university and from then on she rarely saw her mother again. Not that there had ever been much of a home to go to. Her father had left when her mother’s career was taking off and Leo had travelled a good deal, her home always temporary lodgings. From University she had travelled the world, working at all sorts of jobs to pay her way. Two years later she had settled back in the UK as a temporary teacher, finally settling here in Newtown on the border of Wales because it had a little of everything that appealed to her.
Now she had retired there were still plenty of things to keep her and Debs occupied. They had the local theatre group, the creative writing course and the reading group. Debs had her part-time job in the doctor’s surgery, though she didn’t really need the money. The couple had met at the yearly book festival in Hay-on-Wye and had soon found out they were soul-mates. That was two years ago now and the old house that Leo had bought was usually full of people popping in and out.
Number 26 Orchard Street, better known as “The Orchards” was a typical late Victorian dwelling with its frontal visage a mass of windows and a rather grandiose front door. Inside there were four bedrooms and two, smaller, attic bedrooms that had probably been servants quarters up until the late 1940’s. Some effort had been made by previous owners to modernise the building by converting two rather large and chilly rooms at the rear of the property into bathrooms. The fact that the back of the house never caught much sun added to the gloom and convinced Leo that she should leave the old kitchens to her daily help.
Besides, Debs loved cooking on the old Aga and if they needed a quick meal there was always the microwave machine to do the job. Her thoughts were disturbed as the brush ceased to smooth her hair.
‘Suzy was half-pissed again,’ Debs commented, not expecting any argument. ‘I don’t know what Kate is thinking of either, bringing Jane to the group. It’s not going to do her any good making the girl act out of character,’
‘As if that would make any difference to Kate, or to Jane either,’ Leo replied, ‘now why don’t we forget the group and get to bed. I don’t know about you but I’m bushed.’
Thirty minutes later Leo was asleep, but Debs lay quietly besides her, wondering what could be done about their joint friends, Suzy in particular. Leo always said she cared too much about others, but that was her nature and she couldn’t change it.
*

At that moment Suzy was sprawled across her own bed, fully dressed with a large vodka in one hand and a photo album in the other. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks the mascara streaking what was normally a very pretty face. Most people who met her for the first time would never guess that she was nearing her fortieth birthday. On a good day she could easily pass as ten years younger. But heavy drinking was beginning to take its toll on both her looks and her health, not to mention her bank balance. She had meant to go to the group tonight without drinking first, but as she tried to reapply her make-up she found her hands were starting to shake, something that was happening much more frequently day by day. Oh she could manage her job alright, there was no question about that. But she needed a drink as soon as her car was put in the garage and she walked through the door into her luxury flat. Once it had been just a glass of wine to ease the tension of her demanding job. Now it was either a full bottle of wine or a few stiff vodkas.
She knew she hadn’t behaved very well tonight. Although she blamed it on the weather and the disappointment of the fractured start to the reading group, in her heart she knew that as soon as she had reached the pub she was already way ahead of the others. Perhaps it was the snooty way that Leo always took command of everything the group did, or maybe it was Kate with her hangdog expression and that awful child of hers, Jane. She would never have made such a miserable apology for a teenager join her friends, but then again she had little to say in the matter. It wasn’t’ as if the child couldn’t be left alone, at nearly seventeen she was able to look after herself. But then, what did she know about children, she hadn’t wanted them before. She told herself she certainly didn’t want them now, so why was she crying once again?
*

Jane walked through the door and immediately the aroma of wet nappies and stale food assaulted her senses. Her instinct was to close it all out by retreating to her bedroom, but Kate would only start kicking off again about her being sullen and not helping her mother out while Gareth, her stepfather, was out on the rigs, risking his life for her and her brothers and sisters. She hadn’t called Kate “Mum” for years now. Ever since the affair that drove her real father away and left Jane as the eldest in a family of five children. Now there was Gareth’s brat as well as the other two younger children, Sean aged six and little Donna at just three. Her brother, Evan was twelve and well able to do a bit of babysitting, but he was a lazy bastard and just dropped the dirty nappies into the rubbish bin in the kitchen. The smell mingled with their last meal of beans, egg and chips, the greasy smell making Jane feel nauseous. “Shit”, she thought to herself, relegating the swear word to it’s basic concept. Kate knew damn well that she had become a vegetarian two years ago, but still served up the same meals, just talking the meat off her meals.
Now she wondered whether the babysitter had left early or Evan had managed to get the brats to bed on his own. It was only ten-thirty but getting a houseful of kids off to bed was easier said then done. Kate went straight to the cot that was kept in front of the gas fire in their one large living-room. Kirsty had to be kept warm, after all she had been born premature, or so their mum had said. Damn. Jane had thought of her as mum again, something she thought she’d got out of her system when the new baby was born and her Da was long gone, pushed out by an oaf with more muscle than brains.
‘Jane, put your sister to bed,’ Kate yelled as she put the kettle on for her stupid cocoa.
There was no point in arguing. She lifted the cot that had been used for all the younger kids and carried it up to Kate’s bedroom, placing it gently by the side of the bed. She told herself that she didn’t want the brat bawling all night but the reality was far more complex.
Softly closing the door she made her way to her own bedroom, a tiny box room but better than sharing with one of the babies.
Da had partioned this off from one of the larger bedrooms before he had left for good. He had kissed her goodbye that last day and had forced the promise out of her, the one to see her brothers and sisters safe before she went to live with him. He hadn’t said how long that would take, or where she would find him, but in her heart she knew she would.
Reaching into her bedside drawer she took out the makings of a spliff and soon she was letting the whole bad vibes of the evening out of her system.
Only once had Kate tapped on the door, but she had ignored the intrusion.
‘Don’t you want any cocoa?’ the voice had said.
‘Fuck off, I’m trying to sleep’ she had replied.
*

Diane hadn’t joined the group for a drink. She felt that such occasions were meant to be for end of term or when they had the occasional guest speaker. Now she put the kettle on and got out her ginger biscuits. She’d carry them through to the snug where a real coal fire was just banking down for the night. Once sat in the reclining chair that had belonged to her late mother she was comfortable enough to go through the events of the evening.
As head librarian she took her duties seriously and that included the Women’s’ Reading Group. She felt that was quite a feather in her cap since the small town boasted only one main library and two smaller fringe ones at nearby villages. The local councillor was pleased with the small success of the group, mainly as Leonora Crowther, the daughter of the famous actress had joined their small group. Diane could have told him what a disrupting person she had turned out to be, quite unlike her demur mother. There were also several rumours that the awful plump women, Debs was actually her lover, instead of a companion. Of course she never listened to such rumours, but there was certainly a very close relationship between the two women. Frankly she thought the whole thing beneath her. She had plenty to do before next weeks group, and now there was one more member. Happily she took up her pen and started to put the members name into the new term’s register.

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