Life's Last Page

By Annette Creswell

Into the confines of Waverley Nursing Home steps Lisa, a voluntary worker whose life has been scarred by emotional and physical abuse. Firstly, by her mother then by her Attorney husband, Gary. Tormented by her own painful past, she becomes a guardian angel for the suffering residents, particularly Harry whose own life had been one of hardship and suffering. under the hands of the Japanese in the second world war. Olga, a survivor of the Holocaust, was another resident Lisa befriends and to them she offers solace in the most controversial way possible.    

Will Lisa's acts of mercy truly be the salvation she believes them to be, or will they unleash a chain of devastating consequences? Into the picture comes Douglas, a flawed character who harbours a deep secret which leads him down a treacherous path. Haunted by his own demons, he too seeks an elusive redemption that seems forever out of reach.    

As these two souls collide, their actions ignite a series of events that will test the boundaries of morality. In a world where right and wrong blur into shades of grey, will they find absolution or be forever consumed by their own darkness?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outer Banks Publishing Group
• Release date: Oct 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9781736721896

Book preview

Dedicated to the Family

Acknowledgment

I wish to thank my wonderful agent Emerantia Parnall-Gilbert of Hawskspurr Productions for her friendship and invaluable assistance in bringing my novels to fruition.

My gratitude also extends to my publisher Anthony Policastro and all the dedicated team at Outer Banks Publishing Group.

Finally, a special thanks to Brett whose inspiration and encouragement resurrected my interest in writing.

Also by Annette Creswell

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79 UXBRIDGE ROAD

TOM, WHO WAS PREVIOUSLY an Accountant in the shipping office of Cunard, has arrived home from the second world war to his wife Martha and their two children, Brian who is five and Janey eleven.

Because of the terrible conditions in the concentration camp in which he was imprisoned by the Germans, Tom contracts TB and is subsequently admitted to a sanatorium leaving Martha to care for the family.

Tom’s mother who lives in style in Belgravia does not endear herself to anyone and blames her son’s ill health on his enlistment in the war. However, Martha’s mother is the complete opposite to Grandma Johnson, and Brian and Janey adore visiting her in the school holidays.

In Martha’s struggle to care for her family, she is supported by her gossipy but kind neighbour, Ethel, who lives next door and likes to play Bingo at the local hall.

Tom dies of TB, but he did not die alone as Edward, the kind doctor at the sanatorium had been with him in his final moments.

Will Martha be able to support herself and her two children with no husband? Will she find love again when everything looks so hopeless?

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The Lodgers

WHEN MABEL, A FORMER Vaudeville performer, lands a job managing a boarding house on the ocean, she appears to attract a disparate cast of lodgers, all with unfortunate and dark lives.

The lodgers include:

Two queens, old thespian friends of Mabel’s who live in the basement with a peppercorn rent.

Therese is a pregnant Irish girl banished to England by her mother who assumes she is in an unmarried mother’s home in the care of the nuns.

Irene, a recovering alcoholic who has a sister

Judy, due to a trauma experienced during the war is unable to speak.

Arthur, an aged army major, had a son Ned who was shot for desertion.

Harry, alias Percy, a con man and felon who befriends the landlady,

Mabel. When Therese moves to the Outback to get married, Judy follows and one day Judy spots a Kookaburra in a nearby tree. When the bird laughs, an unexpected, wondrous miracle happens.

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The Dark Before the Dawn

JUST BEFORE THE START of World War II, Peggy Davis, a London midwife, has a chance encounter with a stranger that changes her life forever.

When Peggy meets Charles, a wealthy lord as she boards a bus in front of Harrods department store, fate casts them together.

When Charles’ wife, Diana, and first child die in childbirth, Peggy, and Charles are thrust into a relationship of happiness, sorrow, and unexpected tragedy.

They ultimately marry, have a son, and adopt an east-end refugee boy from London.

What transpires is a web of family dramas a la Downton Abbey with lesbian relationships, Nazi sympathizers, and family secrets revealed as Peggy attempts to navigate through her new life from midwife to lady of the manor.

Chapter One

He picked at the ragged cuticle. The nails bitten to the quick.

A cockroach commenced a trek across the grimy floor. He watched its journey as it stopped and started looking this way and that, unsure of its rightful path but eventually scuttling under the cupboard. He thought of the cockroaches which had run rampant in his mother’s house. Her voice stabbing his brain.

Just like your father, good for nothing.

Shut up. He yelled, his hands clamped over his ears in a futile effort to drown her out.

Douglas started rocking to and fro, trying to extricate himself from the vision of her, the curmudgeon, the one who garbed him in girls’ clothes, attempting to fashion him into the daughter she had lost to measles at the age of two. He had always been his mother’s disappointment. A thorn in her side from the day her womb spewed forth the mewling male infant. His father’s protestations led to violence. His puny stature and milquetoast persona are no match for his mother’s despotism and brawn. He found solace in the arms of a woman he met at the Methodist church, which was another reason for castigation as his wife railed against his religiosity. Douglas could never rid himself of her, although he knew she was buried in that cemetery. He remembered when the coffin was lowered into the grave. The rain turned the ground to mud as it seeped into the hole. He had wanted it to turn into quicksand, dragging her body deeper into the mire. Down, down, she would sink into the nest of ravenous worms, taking their fill of her corpulence until there were only bones. He had been glad to be rid of her and to access the legacy to which he was entitled, but no, she had willed her estate to The Cat Protection Society, and he had received nothing.

Bloody cats, he mumbled. They had meant more to her than him. He remembered the numerous mangy creatures, the stink of them especially the toms spraying their territory on a regular basis. He had pleasure in killing a few kittens knowing his mother could not keep track of the numbers. Bashing their heads with a brick and burying them under her favourite gladioli. The house was full of cats. Their litter trays overflowed with malodourous contents as the uneaten food lay on the floor to the delight of the ants and other vermin.

Is that you Dougie? she always enquired when she heard the front door bang upon his return.

Yes mother, he stammered thinking who else would it bloody be as nobody else had a key and they never had visitors. It was just him and her.

Better get the tea on then, she commanded. And after that I want you to cut my toenails.

Feigning invalidism she spent her days in bed passing the time watching the soaps only rising to use the toilet or peer through the curtains to satisfy her curiosity. She had to know what was going on and grilled Douglas for any incidents about which he might be aware.

Saw some more punters going into number seven today. She announced as she shoved a forkful of potato into her mouth.

Whet punters? he asked not meeting her gaze.

The ones going in for a screw. I reckon that floosie is running a brothel. You can’t tell me she isn’t. It’s as plain as the nose on your face. And don’t you get any ideas about joining the queue my lad.

Douglas was uninterested in her assumptions. He did not care about what she had to say. Never stopping with her prattling, always belting her gums together. Blah, blah, blah. She expected him to be at her beck and call. He was nothing but an unpaid servant, a navvy. He made her breakfast, left her sandwiches for lunch then put on the tea when he came home. There was always something with which she found fault. The chops were too tough, the potatoes were not mashed thoroughly or the crusts were not removed from the sandwiches.

How many times have I told you, you scrawny oaf?’ she would rail. You know I have trouble with my dentures."

After washing and drying the dishes he was exhorted to watch television with her. He had to sit in the armchair which had seen better days giving him a pain in the arse while she spread herself around the lounge feasting on custard creams which she never offered to him. However, he had his own stash hidden in his room. Jelly babies and licorice all sorts travelled down his throat as he lay on his bed perusing his comics.

He scratched his head and studied the plethora of bottles and cans which littered the table. They were pilfered from the recycle bins and seemed to offer him a modicum of comfort, a bulwark against his anxiety and the rage festering inside him. He shuffled them around stacking the cans one on top of the other then knocking them down to start again.

He thought he was doing a good job packaging up the parcels and franking the envelopes albeit being given a wide berth by the rest of the staff. He had overheard them discussing his halitosis and body odour even one day placing a can of deodorant on his chair in the hope he would take the hint. The reason for his termination was that he was too slow and had been late more than once. He had attempted to tell them that was the fault of the transport department, the buses which were always too full to let him on however it was to no avail. He had been shown the door with only a month’s wages to tide him