When the door slammed behind my dad, my mum breathed a sigh of relief. I stood helplessly looking at her as she lay on the floor. My dad always felt like a stranger, but I loved my mum and she was hurting. She smiled weakly up at me “I’m just catching my breath, it’s going to be alright, don’t worry.”
A four-year old shouldn’t worry, but I did. I was scared my dad would come back.
“Go grab my handbag Sheila, it’s on the table.” I did as I was told. When I brought it back to her she had pushed herself into a sitting position, clearly in pain. I was happy to see there was no blood. Slowly, using the wall for support, my mum stood up, wincing in pain as she did so. With a determined look on her face, she held out her hand and said “Come on pet, let’s go.”
I took her hand and we walked out of the front door for the last time.
“Where are we going?” I asked
“Redworth Road,” she said “I have to do Mrs. Mangles hair, she’ll be expecting me.”
It was a long walk to Redworth Road. My mum clasped my hand tightly, but spoke only to answer my repeated question of”Are you alright mum.?”
“Yes pet.” she would reply, but I knew she was hurting. I crossed the fingers on my free hand and hoped my dad would NEVER hurt my mum again.
Three years later, when my nasty violent father was nothing but a bad memory, I attracted a guardian angel. She appeared to me for years, helping me when I most needed it. If only my mum had a guardian angel back then, or maybe she did! She escaped with her life after alll. Currently I am editing a short story called ‘Girl on the Beach’ which tells you when my angel first appeared.
My first novel ‘Dead of July’ is available by clicking on the book cover below. This story is set in the eighties and is about a young British Army wife and the trouble she got into in Dortmund Germany, where she tangled with both the living and the dead. With the help of her Guardian Angel, she lived to tell the tale.
Sheila is a British woman in Germany who does a good deed for a stranger in trouble, and before you can say “haunted,” she’s in all kinds of unexpected trouble herself from enemies alive and . . . not so alive.
I don’t want to spoil any of the fun, all I can say is you’ll never react to the smell of cigarettes in quite the same way again!