Victims Of Circumstance

By Diana Philo

To a passing stranger, Carrie is just an ordinary woman living an ordinary life... and that's exactly the way she wants to keep it.

 

In a sleepy little seaside town, she occupies herself day-to-day without incidents or drama, until someone comes along wh

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chronos Publishing
• Release date: Aug 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781914529474

Book preview

Dedication

For Joshua, Nathan, Luca, Sebastien, Harry and Archie.

And for Tallulah, my little dachshund, who throughout her fourteen years of life was by my side, my constant companion in good times and difficult ones.

I miss her.

PART 1

Chapter 1

The noise of the shingle beach being moved bodily by the waves was much louder than she could have imagined. It overwhelmed every other sound except the piercing cries of the seagulls as the birds wheeled overhead, resting on the thermals. If you stood on the shoreline facing out to sea, you could imagine yourself to be miles from anywhere and anybody. It was what she had wanted, but now she found herself turning inland for the reassurance of the little row of pastel-coloured houses and the boats moored in the tiny harbour, the fishing nets spread out to dry and be mended.

It was not solitude she had sought, but anonymity. No-one must know her past. No one must be able to slot her into a pigeon hole that governed the way they behaved towards her. How could she deal with her grief if people were treading on eggshells around her and wondering what to say? Their sympathy had become stifling. She had come here to breathe fresh air - a fresh start. But she would always be alone now.

***

Carrie awoke with a start. The sun was streaming through the little sash window that looked out towards the ocean; there was barely a break between the blue sky and the blue sea. The little scudding clouds were reflected in the water but you could just make out a fine line that was the horizon. She sat up and yawned luxuriously, thinking, 'Come on, let's go everyone.' Then the silence and, looking round, the emptiness. There was no 'everyone.' They had gone, her 'everyone' was gone.

Carrie got up, desperately wondering when this morning shock would stop. She had had such pleasant dreams and awoken to such a beautiful day. She forced herself to dress, go down the little wooden staircase and fill the kettle. There had been a time when she would have just gone back to bed to hide under the bedclothes. That had to stop … and it stopped. People said that it was progress but it hadn't felt like it. She made two slices of toast and ate them. She had promised to eat even though the food tasted like cardboard in various guises.

She went and stood in the little shingle garden, lit a cigarette and leaned against the wooden post with peeling paint. Had she really been here for more than three weeks? What had she been doing? She wasn't sure. Existing! That was it. Today though, she would have to go out. She had run out of supplies; the food didn't matter but the cigarettes and the loo rolls made her outing essential.

Carrie slipped on her sandals and closed the door behind her. She took a few steps and stopped, realising that she hadn't locked the door, but then … what was the point? She didn't own anything of value except her rings, which she was wearing, and her purse, which was in her pocket. She continued on towards the road above the slanting beach. Walking was laborious on the heavy shingle; the open toes of her sandals scooped up a tiny load to lift and spray ahead at each step. At last she reached the road, crossed it, and walked up a narrow side road hoping to find a shop. There were a few people about but it was out of season so they looked like locals. Carrie realised she had not even combed her hair and guiltily raked her fingers through it, smiling at a woman passing with a, 'This wind …'

The woman smiled back and replied, 'Plays havoc, don't it!'

Carrie walked on. You see, she thought, the woman had no idea about her so just treated her normally. Now she came to a small shop, a general store, and picked up a basket at the door. She walked round absently, not fancying anything really but putting the odd item in the basket, including the loo rolls. When she arrived at the counter, the girl looked at her questioningly.

‘Av you got a bag?'

'I'm afraid not.'

'I'll av to charge you for each plastic bag you use. It's the environment see. They're littering the sea and killing the fish. They say that plastic bags do last for hundreds of years.'

'You're quite right, and I'll bring a bag next time without fail.' The girl seemed pleased at that and started to load up the two bags.

While she was waiting for the till to open, she said, 'You new ere? I ant seen you before.'

'I moved here a few weeks ago … just for a while.'

'Oh?' said the girl, as if she was due an explanation, but Carrie gathered up her bags, waved cheerio and went out of the shop.

There, that wasn't too bad. Carrie turned further up the street instead of heading back. It was good to be outside for a change. Another shop, a sort of ironmongers, spilled its wares onto the narrow pavement. Over the doorway were strung a number of baskets in various shapes and sizes. Carrie went inside. It was dark and her eyes took a moment to adjust. The shelves were loaded with stuff: hurricane lamps and coloured plastic torches, cooking pots and enamel mugs, tins of paint and varnish, plastic bags of nails, shelf brackets - the assortment was endless. As Carrie walked up and down the aisles, she came across a grey-haired man wearing a brown shop coat. He was piling candles in a small space on a top shelf. At first, Carrie thought he was very tall but, in fact, once he had stepped down off an upturned bucket, he was quite short.

Carrie looked down at him. 'You have some very nice baskets hanging outside,' she began.

'Ar, the willow baskets, you mean? They're local made, you know. A chap lives in the woods and grows the willow and weaves them all, he does. Total by hand, not a machine in sight.'

'How lovely. I'd like to buy one.'

'Would you now? Well I'll go and get my hook and get them down for you, young lady.' The little man went into a back room and emerged brandishing a window pole. 'Got this from the village school when they closed it down in West Barlings up the road. Been powerful useful. Now then ...' They both went outside, and the little man hooked the clutch of baskets down and undid the string so that Carrie could choose the one she wanted. She chose a largish one that would fit on her arm, and a small one just because she liked it. The little man seemed pleased and, after stringing up the rest of the baskets, took Carrie's money with a little bow. 'Good morning to you, I'm sure.’ Carrie transferred her groceries to the basket and turned back towards the sea front. As she arrived at the grocery store, she popped back in and went to the counter. The girl was serving a customer but smiled as Carrie lifted the basket to show her. She placed the two plastic bags back on the counter and waved as she left the shop. She had taken a few steps when she heard someone running behind her and, turning, saw the girl from the grocery shop holding out her hands with some coins.

'Oh, thank you so much but I don't want a rebate, just put it in the tin by the till, ok? Very good of you though.' The girl smiled and went back to the shop while Carrie turned for the shore road.

***

As she waded her way back through the deep shingle, Carrie felt glad that she had made the effort to go out. She had spoken to three people who had nothing to judge her by but her face and her words, and they had found her … normal, ordinary.

Once back in the house, door closed, kettle on, she went over to the mirror above the sink and stared at her reflection. Her face appeared the same as it had always been - a little older perhaps, a little more lined and pasty, her hair dyed a new colour, cut in a different style. But she was the same person she had always been - Caroline Grey, then Caroline Watkins. But always Carrie. When she was a child she had wanted to be a film star - to be famous - but now, at thirty-two, she wanted desperately to be unknown and ordinary. She had been told to resist going over and over the events of the past months, but she challenged anyone in her position to be able to achieve this seemingly good advice. As she lit a cigarette then poured boiling water on instant coffee granules, she admitted to herself that the outing to the shops had been good in that it had taken her mind off things for a short while. She must go out at least once a day into the little town or even just for a walk along the beach.

The next morning, Carrie was smoking her first cigarette on the porch and staring, unseeing, out to sea when she decided to go for her promised walk there and then. She threw away the cigarette end and took her half-full coffee cup inside, grabbed her cardigan, and stepped back out onto the shingle. It didn't much matter which way she went. There were just the breakwaters spaced along the beach with tons of shingle separating each section, nothing more. Carrie walked more easily in the boots she had slipped on in the kitchen, while still in her nightie. She wore it tucked into her shorts and under her cardigan, but there was no-one to see. The beach was deserted. Carrie studied the stones as she walked, the colours and shapes, the little bits of driftwood, and here a piece of dried seaweed and a shiny bottle top. She bent to pick up the bottle top to take back for … but there was no-one to take it for. Nevertheless, she put it into her pocket, unable to throw it away now.

Chapter 2

She had no sooner changed Charlie than he filled his nappy again. At this rate they would never get away. James was standing in front of the television taking in the news and assuming that Carrie would believe that because he was standing, instead of sitting in front of the tv, that he was actively doing something towards the day out they had promised the kids. Verity was hopping from one foot to the other and screwing up her face.

'Verity, do you want to go to the loo? If so, go before you wet yourself!' Carrie's frustration was beginning to bubble over. She swapped Charlie onto the other arm, grabbed the changing basket off the sideboard, and called over her shoulder as she went upstairs to the bathroom,

'James, can you call Alex in? He'll need to change his clothes.'

'Mmmm,' muttered James, not budging. In the bathroom, Carrie marvelled at the content of Charlie's nappy. How one such small child could produce so much, and only fifteen minutes after the last lot, beggared belief. Charlie lay on his back, kicking his legs furiously and twisting his body against Carrie's attempts to stick the fresh nappy’s tabs.

'Charlie, will you keep still! And Verity, do what you came to do and stop kicking the loo! Have you finished?' Verity shrugged and continued to count the ducks on the wall frieze annoyingly.

'One, free, four, seven, two, eleventy-eleven.' She pressed her forefinger on each duck as she counted, finally falling off the loo seat when she reached a duck too far.

Alex stuck his head round the door, ' Where's my backpack from school?'

'Now let me see,' said Carrie putting her finger to her mouth, 'could it be where you dropped it on the floor in the sitting room? Or ... or, might it be hanging on the fridge door? Or ... possibly under Verity's bed where you kicked it?' The last suggestion obviously struck a chord. Alex went into Verity's bedroom and rummaged under her bed, pulled out the backpack, and stuffed some important things that he had just swapped with a boy down the road into it. Carrie finished with Charlie and pulled a fresh pair of knickers out of the drawer for Verity.

'Alex, change into those things I've laid out on your bed, and put the ones you're wearing in the clothes basket. Alex! Are you listening?'

Alex rolled his eyes at the wall but said, 'Yes mum.' He changed into the clothes and dropped the ones he had worn on the floor. Carrie was on the way downstairs, carrying Charlie on her hip and holding Verity's hand. Without looking up she said, 'Go back and put them in the dirty clothes basket, Alex.' Alex sighed, swivelled round back into his bedroom and did as Carrie had asked (how did she do that?). As they made their way into the kitchen past the sitting room, Carrie noticed that James was still glued to the television, and the half-prepared picnic was still on the kitchen worktop. She felt fury rising in her throat but the three excited little faces staring up at her melted it away. Even Charlie seemed to know that something different and potentially fun was about to happen.

'Alex, go to the garage and get out the things that you want to play with on the beach - the cricket bat and beach ball and stuff - and I'll come out and load it into the car … or daddy will while I finish these sandwiches.'

'Not cheese!' called Alex, as he ran out of the back door. Carrie stared down at the cheddar cheese slices and sighed, but started to put them on the bread anyway, with tomato, lettuce and salad cream. He would never notice if he was hungry enough. Besides, there were the little jam ones if Charlie was too tired to eat anything much.

'James,' she called, 'could do with some help in here.'

'Be there in a second. Just need to ... ' he trailed off. Carrie packed the sandwiches and fruit and yoghurt pots into the basket then grabbed the drinks bottles to fill them for each child, plus some plastic spoons and the packet of wet wipes. She picked up Charlie, who was just making for the coal bucket by the AGA, and pulled a little wool jumper over his head. He struggled and pulled the sleeves off as soon as Carrie had got an arm into them. 'Charlie!' she shouted. His face crumpled as the tone of her voice and the force of it frightened him momentarily. Fat tears bubbled out of the corner of his beautiful eyes and made Carrie feel bad. 'Well, you shouldn't struggle,' she said softly and his face relaxed into a smile as quickly as winking, the tears forgotten.

Carrie decided to put Charlie and Verity into the car so that she knew where they were. With any luck, Charlie would fall asleep. It was about time for his morning nap. It was a lovely morning with little or no wind, but early enough in the year to be mild and without summer heat. Carrie put Charlie into his car seat and strapped him in; he didn't struggle for once and she knew that he was about ready to sleep. His head went to one side, a sure sign, and his thumb popped into his mouth. Carrie put his piece of blanket in his other hand and his little, tatty toy penguin on his lap. He had everything he needed now so, in the blissful contentment of a baby, drifted into sleep. Carrie quietly pushed the door to and went to fetch Verity and the picnic basket.

Verity was sitting on the kitchen floor staring down at the front of her t-shirt, where a mixture of vomit and chocolate spread was congealing.

'Verity, for God's sake!'

'You shouldn't say that, actually,' said Alex, screwing the top back onto the chocolate spread.

'What are you doing with that spread? And then letting Verity eat it?' demanded Carrie.

'I was hungry and I didn't see her pinch the jar off the table. It's not my fault. I made a sandwich to keep me going til lunch,' he finished lamely.

'James!' she yelled.

'Coming!' he yelled back. Carrie pushed past him as he finally came out of the sitting room. 'This will be the third clean t-shirt you've had on this morning,' she complained as she dragged a tearful Verity up the stairs. When she came down with a fresh Verity, she glanced at James and Alex, who were standing in the kitchen looking thoughtful. Carrie glared at James without speaking.

'Just wondering what you would like me to do to help?' he asked innocently. Carrie ignored him and pulled Verity's cardigan on her, then took her out to the car with her bag of colouring books and fairy picture books. She strapped her into her booster seat next to Charlie, who was gently snoring, and went back to the kitchen.

'Alex, have you loaded the play stuff in the boot?' Alex said he had. 'Then go and strap yourself into the car and don't bother your sister. Have you got your tablet? Then just get on with that and leave her alone. Go, go!' Alex pulled his backpack onto one shoulder and went out to the car. There was silence in the kitchen for a moment. James shifted onto his other foot. Carrie's hands were clenched into fists and the knuckle bones showed white through the skin.

'Perhaps you'd like to take this heavy picnic basket out to the car?' she said in a flat voice.

'There is absolutely no reason to be sarcastic, Carrie. I said I would help and you only had to ask.'

'I rather believe I did ask,' said Carrie in a very controlled voice.

'I just needed a moment to catch something very important on the news. You could have waited a sec, Carrie. You always make such a big thing out of a simple thing like a picnic. It's just a picnic, for Lord's sake! We all get in the car and we drive somewhere. It's as simple as that. Now calm down, darling, and pop that basket in the car while I just get a quick shave.'

Carrie's mouth fell open. He really didn't realise what the problem was ... that there was a problem. Perhaps she was being unreasonable. If she had forgotten to make sandwiches, he wouldn't have blamed her. He would just go and buy some or take them to a café. He wouldn't complain about the cost even though they struggled for money.