Gwen's Choice: Seafarers, #4

By Ruth Hay

She never before had any choices in life and suddenly, without much warning, she was overwhelmed with serious decisions that could not be delayed.
Does Gwen Harrison dare choose a whole new life for herself or will doubts and fears overcome her?
Is it really too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ruth Hay
• Release date: Apr 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386678380

Book preview

Chapter 1

When Gwen Harrison heard Reilly Crawford suggest she should write a book, her mind froze.

What the impresario did not know, and what Gwen would never disclose to anyone, was the fact that she had no writing skills whatsoever. None that would bear examination, that is.

Yes, she had for years scribbled down ideas in her little notebooks speculating about the passengers and staff she observed on the annual cruise on the Seafarer line. But that was just a simple hobby to occupy the long, dark, winter nights in the little cottage in Foxfield.

The annual cruise with Emily was now gone since her sister married Victor.

The Foxfield cottage was now gone to the wrecker’s ball.

The fine laptop computer Emily had given her had seen some use recently, but that was jottings about a theatre script which was nothing like the long, sustained work required by an actual novel with chapters, multiple pages and excellent spelling and grammar.

Not that Gwen had much experience with novels at all. She never seemed to have time to read with all the house work in the cottage and its garden and the cleaning jobs in the village. In fact, she thought, the nearest she came to such leisurely activity was when Darwin Elliott asked her to read sections from his science books after his eyesight failed.

Write an entire book? The idea was ridiculous as well as frightening.

And yet, Gwen had learned not to dispute the word of Mr. Reilly Crawford. For such a small man, he had a commanding presence and the words that fell from his lips were abrupt, definitive and usually prescriptive in the extreme. Even Lucas, who had accompanied Gwen at most of their meetings with the great man, had to admit he was a fearsome fellow and not to be questioned by the likes of them; two mere children in the new world of theatrical productions.

At Reilly Crawford’s command, Gwen had forced her brain to encompass the dimensions of this strange art of acting and singing on the stage. She had eventually forged an outline of a story in three acts but others were employed to flesh out the outline and add stage directions, backdrops, costumes, lighting effects, music and choreography.

From the moment she reluctantly handed over the few pages of the outline to Mr. Crawford, it became his property rather than hers. She was astounded at what he and his associates were able to do with such meagre fare. With every added layer he conjured a magical tale based on the journal of Victor Robert’s ancestor Elijah Robertson. To her surprise, Gwen was co-opted as story consultant, a position for which she was handsomely remunerated. In this area, at least, she felt confident as she had spent weeks deciphering the odd nineteenth century English and the spidery hand writings of Elijah. His dramatic story was carved into her mind in all its details and she was never lost for an answer about his adventures, when required to provide one. She was proud of the fact that she alone had uncovered the mystery of how the journal arrived in Victor’s family home in Tunbridge Wells when the last heard of Elijah was his writings while on the island of Tasmania. It was this final discovery that made the stage musical so compelling for the audience. On Gwen’s suggestion, and it was her only really creative input, at the conclusion of the play the letter from Elijah’s wife Audrey, was read out, informing them of his demise and his last wishes to connect with his family in Scotland.

When, after many months of pre-production, trial runs in provincial theatres and then opening night in a small London theatre, Gwen had been obliged to accompany Emily, Victor, Lucas and Reilly to the full-production premiere, she was utterly astonished at what had been created from the scant outline she had given them. And, when there was a cry for Author! at the conclusion, she was shaking in her shoes. Had it not been for Reilly’s hand under he elbow, she would surely have collapsed into a tearful heap right there at centre stage.

Emily was also in tears and so proud of her older sister. Victor and Gwen were interviewed by the press in the next few days and a reporter made a video clip of the Library at High Tides showing the Captain Roberts’ portrait and the box containing the fragile pages of Elijah’s journal. The reporter also wanted to see the panelling in the downstairs apartment where Gwen had uncovered the hidden journal but Victor insisted that was impossible until the extensive renovations of the entire area had been completed.

Gwen was pleased to hear this. She thought of the basement as the source of the mystery and wanted no one to spoil her private possession of it.

It was as the reporter was leaving and he turned to thank Victor for his hospitality, that he mentioned the proposed book idea. Victor’s eyebrows rose in tandem and he looked at his sister-in-law for confirmation.

I…. I have heard about this, she confessed, but I haven’t decided whether or not I want to pursue the idea.

This comment was subsequently included in the news clip and the letters began to arrive at High Tides beseeching Gwen to tell her story in full detail.

Emily was impressed. Gwen, dear, do you have another theatre script in mind?

Goodness gracious, no! I could never do that again. It was a fluke that I was able to do it in the first place with so little experience of the theatre.

She could feel little beads of sweat forming along her spine at the very thought.

Well, then, why not try the book idea. You know I have the greatest confidence in your ability to write a good story. I have always encouraged you to try. That’s why I gave you the laptop computer in the first place. Please Gwen. Give it some thought.

With that impassioned plea in mind, Gwen had to at least attempt the impossible.

She had no premonition of what that attempt would lead to.

Chapter 2

She was , finally, back in her corner apartment in The Residences: Foxfield, in the county of Hampshire.

With some relief she closed the door behind her and went immediately to the balcony from which she could see across the fields. The country air passing over green grass and clumps of trees was always refreshing and she stood breathing deeply, trying to centre herself after the excitement of the last week in London.

Lucas had driven her home to Foxfield and approved of her wish to retreat to anonymity again.

You have had an amazing time, Gwen, and I know it is not what you wanted or expected. I will leave you in peace here for a week or two but don’t forget I am on call if you need me at any time. I will miss our months of theatre meetings and rehearsals. Please call me and let me know how you are faring.

She had said farewell with fervent thanks for all Lucas Parminger had done for her during her stay in Tunbridge Wells. He was a true gentleman in every respect. Meeting him had set in motion the entire enterprise that led to the musical; Far From Home; the True Voyages of Elijah Robertson.

Lucas knew that she had promised Reilly Crawford to attempt a biographical novel to complement the play but he also knew she lacked confidence in her ability to do so. One thing was certain in his mind as he waved farewell and drove off back to Kent; a promise given by Miss Gwen Harrison was not taken lightly.

Her word was her bond. Given some quiet time, she would certainly give the project her best attempt.

Two days went by before the inevitable knock at her door arrived. During the two days she had slept copiously, eaten well from the basket of supplies she had brought with her from town and occasionally glanced at the laptop sitting on the small table set up in her bedroom. In truth, she felt as if her head was empty and it was a very satisfying feeling. No demands. No appointments. No interruptions.

No household responsibilities such as she had taken on when she resided in Emily and Victor’s large mansion in Tunbridge Wells. She was free for the first time since she uncovered Elijah’s journal.

It was inevitable, however, that her presence on the top floor of the building would not go unnoticed.

It was the one drawback in the set up. Since the inhabitants of Cottage Row had lost their homes to the developer’s plan, they were, on the whole, known to each other and therefore curious.

She had met all the residents by now and chose to retain her privacy as much as possible in such close quarters. Darwin Elliott, as senior member, had established building rules before the apartments were occupied. These included mandated privacy and he underlined this each month when the residents’ meeting was held.

Judging from the tentative knock on her door, Gwen presumed it was Darwin who chose to break the rule. She quickly opened the door and was pleased her guess was correct.

"Come right in Darwin. I do not want others to hear you knocking. I am trying to remain private for now, but, of course, you are more than welcome at any time!" She had caught his dismayed expression just in time to amend her rudeness.

He entered, leaning heavily on his stick and Gwen could see changes in his posture. The move to the Residences had come at the right time for her former employer.

Please sit here, Darwin. Can I get you tea?

No thank you, Gwen. I won’t stay long. I wanted to warn you that word of your return has been passed along already.

Daphne Dixon?

Of course! Between the shop windows on the ground level and her apartment above, she has the perfect opportunity to spy on all the comings and goings here.

She must be in seventh heaven. It’s what she always yearned for. The woman would have made an excellent spy.

"Indeed! I will make it known you are not to be disturbed but you must be aware you are somewhat of a celebrity in Foxfield. An account of your success has been in the Petersfield News Chronicle as well as the Chichester Times under the heading, ‘Local Writer Takes London By Storm’.

Gwen blushed to the roots of her grey hair, now adorned with blonde streaks around her face, courtesy of Emily’s hairdresser who had insisted on a new, shorter, more appropriate style for ‘a woman in the public eye’.

Oh, Darwin! This is such a trial to me. You know how secluded my life was. I am not at all comfortable with this attention and now it comes with expectations I am afraid I cannot fulfil.

Good gracious, Gwen Harrison! I have never seen you like this. Tell me what I can do to help.

She collapsed onto the couch next to the upright chair where Darwin had settled and attempted to gather her normal composure. He reached over and gently tapped her hand.

You have often been of great assistance to me. I would be honoured to return the favour in any way I can.

Well, I really need your help. You have written books when you were a professor, Darwin. Can you give me any ideas on how to go about such a task? I am completely at a loss.

Now, as you know Gwen, my writing was scientific in nature and that is a task with a specific format and research components. I cannot imagine that kind of thing is what you need to do?

Thankfully, no, but a biographical story is no less intimidating to me.

Are you embarking on a Harrison family history?

It was clear to Gwen she would need to be more specific about her dilemma if she was not to confuse her friend. Also, the idea of getting help from the professor was beginning to send a jolt of hope into her mind. She proceeded to outline the process by which she had been able to write a screenplay about the journal found in Victor’s family home and followed that with the producer’s request for a companion volume on the same topic.

"Ah, now I see! It’s the type of writing that has you concerned. I suspect you have never ventured to write anything of the required length before."

She nodded. Nothing even close to that, Darwin.

Well, let me advise you if I can. First you start and then you continue to the end.

Gwen looked into the clouded eyes beneath his beetling brows to see if the old man was teasing her.

It can’t be that simple! Everyone would have written a book if that’s the case.

Oh, it just sounds simple. The trick is in the continued effort but there is another piece of sound advice I can contribute, if you wish?

Please. I am desperate.

I have always found it helpful to have a good title as a guideline. What was the title of your play?

Gwen fetched the play script and presented it to him.

Now, that is a useful title. Descriptive enough so that theatregoers are not disappointed once they have spent their money. He placed his fingers over his mouth for a moment. It was a gesture Gwen recognized as a pause for thought.

"I suggest you capitalize on this title and use the same three words; Far From Home."

Gwen was surprised but she immediately saw the advantage in tying the two together.

What can we do to distinguish the book from the play, Darwin?

You will require a subtitle and it must be in your own words. What is the book to be about?

It was Gwen’s turn to stop and deliberate. From what Reilly Crawford had said to her, the book was to be her personal story of how the journal was uncovered and how she managed to interpret it.

I suppose it will be about my discovery of the journal and what happened after that.

Good! What do you think about including the word ‘truth’ to tie into the play’s ‘True Voyages’?

"I think that’s a brilliant idea, Darwin. Could I call it, Far From Home: The Truth About the Discovery of the Journal of Elijah Robertson? Is that title too long now?"

It’s entirely your decision, Gwen.

He was delighted to find her taking control of the title. Her confidence was rising. He could almost see her fingers twitching to get to the computer and begin to write. His work was done. He rose slowly with the help of his sturdy cane and was almost at the door before Gwen noticed.

Darwin, could I ask one more thing of you? If you must refuse, I will understand.

What do you wish?

I need an editor to keep me on track and to check my spelling and grammar.

"I see. Well, truthfully, I do not see that well, as you know, Gwen. Can we compromise?

You could read your words to me and ask about any spellings you are unsure of. In that way I can help out."

That is so kind and generous of you. I am forever in your debt and I promise not to eat into your bridge time too much.

He laughed. If you look after my provisions from time to time and save me from encounters with that Daphne woman, I will consider it a fair trade.

It’s a bargain, Darwin. And I will cook for you also. It will be like the old days, minus the dusting issues.

He went off along the hallway to his own apartment and Gwen heard his chuckle until his door closed.

Chapter 3

So began a time of thought and contemplation.

In her methodical way, Gwen set aside certain hours to write her book. A few false starts informed her it was best to begin early in the day when her mind was fresh and the building was generally quiet.

She rose with the sun and made a cup of instant coffee, then she put a warm cardigan over her shoulders and sat down in front of the laptop computer.

The first day she stared at it without managing one word.

The second day she typed the title in bold letters and stared at that.

By the third day she was so disgusted with her lack of progress that she told herself she must begin at the beginning no matter what it sounded like. The sentences that emerged after this were not her best, but it was a start.

---

My sister Emily married a wonderful man and moved from our home in Foxfield to a large family mansion in the town of Royal Tunbridge Wells in Kent.

When I discovered that our old cottage in Foxfield village was to be knocked down and replaced with a seniors’ residence, Emily insisted on inviting me to stay with Victor and her in a separate apartment in the lower floor of the big house while the new building was erected.

I was very content with this plan. The apartment was small but perfect for me and I determined to look after it and the grounds and also the main house, while Emily and Victor went on a cruise together.

---

On day four, Gwen could hardly wait to see if what she had written the day before was sensible.

She adjusted a few words and found herself caught up in the story of the secret journal. She realized it was her own story and she was the only person who could tell it properly.

On day six she stopped counting the days and forged ahead so she could finish a chapter and present it to Darwin for approval. Her typing was still rather slow but she tried to increase her speed by watching the keys as she wrote and then re-reading and fixing mistakes.

Several days later, a parcel arrived by courier and was delivered to Gwen’s door by an apologetic Roger Adams.

Sorry to disturb, Miss Harrison, but this here package came by special delivery and it was not going into your mail box without doing some damage to it so I brought it up here. Hope that’s OK with you?

Thank you, Roger that is very kind of you. I don’t think a courier package belongs on the table in the foyer for all to inspect. You did the right thing.

He went off with a satisfied swagger and Gwen hurried to unwrap the bulky package.

The first item she found was a letter from Emily. The first words indicated her sister was not pleased about something.

---

Gwen I am very upset with you. Victor wanted to drive to Hampshire to see what’s going on

but I managed to persuade him to give you one more chance to make a contact.

Do you realize you have been out of touch for two weeks?

I tried your mobile phone numerous times but it does not seem to be working.

Your Foxfield apartment number is an internal service and not available to non-residents.

Lucas says you needed space to settle in again. I don’t think he is being honest with me.

If you are ill, just let us know. We will do whatever you need.

I appreciate the last few months have been challenging for you, dear, and you may well

require some ‘down time’ as they call it. Please don’t shut us out.

As you will see I am enclosing your transcript of Elijah’s journal. The original is now locked

in Victor’s bank for safekeeping. I hope these pages will remind you of the hours you spent

in High