SERIAL The Saturday Scribblers

Jess’s advertisement in the library had brought an interesting writing group together!

TINA took her time finishing her scrambled eggs on toast and poured a second cup of tea. Although she could have a lie-in on Saturday mornings, she woke up at the usual time even without the help of the alarm clock.

Still, that meant she was able to enjoy a leisurely breakfast instead of grabbing a cereal bar as she ran out the door.

OK. What was on her to-do list for today?

Tidy the house. See to the neighbours. Visit Dad. Go to the library. Do her food shop.

It was the same to-do list as she had every Saturday.

This week she’d have to get the bus to the other side of town to go to the main library, as her nearest branch had closed.

The tidy up was quickly accomplished. Living on her own in a small house, she needed only stick on a wash and whizz round with the vacuum cleaner.

Out on the street, she paused to appreciate the world on this sunny April morning.

“Ooh.” She took a few steps backwards as a man, hurrying along, missed her by inches.

“Sorry,” he said, stopping. “Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Tina said. “I was staring into space.

“‘I think that I shall never see, a poem as lovely as a tree.’ Can’t remember who wrote that, but it’s true.”

The man looked bemused and began to move away.

“I’m not one for poetry. Can’t help you there.” “Hold on!” Tina called. He turned around, a wary look on his face.

Probably thinks I’m going to spout verses at him again, Tina thought.

“I see you’ve got library books,” she said. “If you’re heading for the Alnwick Park branch I’m afraid that it’s been closed.”

“You’re joking.” He came back. “I thought that was next week.”

Tina shook her head. “Yesterday was the last day.”

“Can’t believe it,” he said. “I’ve been going since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

“Me too. It’s shocking.” She looked at him properly.

She didn’t think their paths had ever crossed between the bookshelves.

No, she’d remember his weather-beaten skin, those nice brown eyes.

She indicated the pile of thrillers carried rather awkwardly under his arm.

“They’ll take them back at the main library. You’ll have to trek across town.”

“Life’s not easy, is it?” He turned back the way he’d come. “Thanks. Have a good day.”

“You, too.” She watched his wiry figure go out of sight round the corner.

Now for the neighbours. There were three elderly ones she checked in with at weekends, to see if they needed any little errands.

Today one needed a prescription picked up but otherwise all was well.

Number three on her list: Dad. Their weekly morning coffee was something both of them looked forward to.

He lived a couple of streets away in the house she’d grown up in, and he refused to downsize even though he’d been on his own since her mum died 20 years ago.

Well, hardly ever on his own in the last few months.

Tina had noticed the same thing in her work as a health visitor.

An older widower seemed to be a magnet for a certain type of woman. Pauline, a newcomer to Dad’s street, was that type of woman.

She kept popping over to his house, insisting that he needed entertainment and companionship.

Tina’s gregarious dad wasn’t lacking in either.

Tina had taken to thinking of her as “the ever-present Pauline” and had once let it slip in front of Dad, to his amusement.

He came to the door now and looked up and down the street before telling her it was safe to come in.

“What’s new, pussycat?” he asked, setting a mug in front of her.

“This looks nice,” she said, indicating her coffee.

He held out a box with sachets of cappuccino mix.

“Pauline reckoned I should give them a go.”

“You going out with her this afternoon?”

Pauline didn’t have a car. Somehow Dad had been inveigled into taking her to an out-of-town shopping centre every Saturday.

Andy Morris, formerly Sergeant Morris, Parachute Regiment, the toughest of the tough, was a softy. Dad nodded sheepishly. “What are you up to?” “Nothing much.” Tina scooped up the froth from her coffee. “I’ll get the bus to the main library now that our one’s closed. Food shopping.”

“Blimey, the cat’s got a better social life than you,” Dad said. “You should get a hobby of some sort.”

****

Tina acknowledged the truth of his words later as she familiarised herself with the main library and chose her books, so she stopped to look at the board with notices of local activities.

Do you have a novel in you? Are you a budding poet? Want to write your life story? Why not join my writing group? Saturday 10 a.m.-12 p.m. All welcome. Contact Jess for further details.

A woman in a pretty blue maxi dress was making a note of the mobile number.

“Which is it?” Tina asked cheerily. “Do you think you have a novel in you?”

“Er, perhaps,” she replied. “You?”

“Oh, no, not me,” Tina said.

Then, all of a sudden, she remembered the person she used to be, the life she used to lead before she came home to Ashbridge when her mum got ill.

Maybe she could turn that into fiction.

She smiled at the woman. “Well, who knows? Could I borrow your pen?”

****

Granny Em led the way upstairs and opened the first door on the left with a flourish.

“I’ve given you the room that was your daddy’s when he was a boy, Dylan,” she said, “and your mum’ll be next door.”

Madeleine gave Dylan a gentle nudge.

“Isn’t that nice? To think of Daddy being here when he was your age?”

Dylan nodded and smiled shyly at Em. He went forward and sat on the divan and gave a bounce.

“Did Daddy sleep in this bed?” he asked.

“One just like it,” Em said. “And there are some of his toys and books in that box for you.”

Actually, Madeleine thought, the box is all there is of Liam in the room.

The shelving, neatly stacked with rolls of fabric and jars of reels and buttons, showed that it had been transformed into a craft room.

But, diving eagerly into the box, Dylan didn’t appear to notice that.

“Come and have a cup of tea, dear,” Em said. “You must be exhausted.”

“You coming, Dyl, darling?” Madeleine asked.

He shook his head, intent on getting an Action Man to scale the overhanging duvet cover.

She hesitated.

“He’s fine, Madeleine,” Em said. “You come down when you’re ready, Dylan. We’ll be in the garden.”

With a lingering look, Madeleine followed her mother-in-law downstairs.

Exhausted? The word didn’t begin to cover it.

The journey from south of London to Ashbridge in Northumberland had been truly terrifying.

In the kitchen, Em picked up a cake tin and indicated for Madeleine to go through the French windows.

Dee was mowing the grass but he cut the motor when he saw them and came over to the patio.

“Have a seat, pet. Em’s made a lemon drizzle.”

Madeleine smiled at him as he pulled a chair out for her. Even after nine years she still felt self-conscious calling her parents-in-law by the names bestowed on them by Liam when he learned to spell – Em for Mum, and Dee for Dad.

Even their own friends used the nicknames now.

“So what are you going to doing with yourself,” Dee asked, “once young Dylan’s at school?

“Some of Liam’s friends are still in the town. I’m sure they’d be pleased to see you.”

“He has been in touch

“Blimey, the cat’s got a better social life than you”

with one or two of them,” Madeleine said, accepting a cup of tea.

“But they’ve got their own lives. I’m not sure how I’d fit in.”

She saw a look pass between Em and Dee.

“Well, you’ll make friends, no doubt,” Em said. “Just relax, dear.

“It’s a shame Liam’s firm sent him to a place where you couldn’t go with him.”

“Not family-friendly” was how the Human Resources department had described where Liam was staying.

It didn’t mean it was unsafe – at least Liam assured her that was the case – just that the engineers had to live in hostels, there being no ex-pat housing and no English-speaking school.

“But he’ll be home before you know it,” Dee said in his hearty voice.

Aware that Em and Dee were looking to her for a response, Madeleine pulled herself together.

“Not long until then!” she said, aiming for heartiness herself. “I’m sure I’ll find plenty to occupy me.

“You must tell me what I can do to help in the house. And I can always sign up for evening classes or that. I’ll look online.”

“You could try the library as well,” Em said, passing the lemon drizzle. “They’ve got a notice board.”

She waved at Dylan as he hovered at the French windows.

“Come on over, love. Would Action Man like some cake?”

Dylan sprang forward, swooping the toy up and down.

“He’d like a really big piece, please.”

Madeleine’s heart lifted. As long as Dylan was happy, she could make the best of it.

Later, when, despite her tiredness, she couldn’t sleep, dwelling on her close encounter with the haulage truck, she distracted herself by wondering how she’d spend her time here.

Dee was retired but he was a man of lots of interests, some short-lived.

The first time Liam had brought her here, Dee was into breeding budgies.

After that there was genealogy and orienteering and cultivating dahlias.

She couldn’t remember exactly what his latest was, something outdoorsy.

Em worked full-time as an occupational therapist and most of her weekends were taken up with making things – the intricate patchwork quilt on Madeleine’s bed must have taken her months – and she loved to cook and have friends round for meals.

It was difficult to know how a long-term visitor could slot in.

As soon as she could she’d find something to do – to make the next year go as quickly as possible.

****

Only three people had said they would come to the first meeting, Jess noted with some dismay on Friday, and none of these were her old regulars.

All three were women – Clarissa, Tina and Madeleine.

There had also been a call from a man, Neil, for more information but he didn’t commit himself to coming along.

Maybe a weekday evening would have been better, she fretted, but the morning slot had worked well when the writing group had met in the library.

Perhaps it was meeting in someone’s home rather than in a public space that was putting people off.

It had been difficult to decide how much to charge, too. The library class had been subsidised by the council but now they’d withdrawn all the funding.

But unlike at the library, there would be coffee and scones for elevenses.

The advantage of having all new “customers” was that she wouldn’t have to come up with new writing exercises for a while.

Her mobile rang. Not another writer. Grant.

“I know you’re probably preparing for tomorrow but do you have time to meet up?” he asked.

“Are you here?” Jess was surprised.

Grant had been planning to go to stay with his sister – as he did most Fridays. Grant laughed. “Looks like it. I’m off the hook for the weekend.”

“The wine bar at eight?” That would give her time for a quick shower and a bite to eat.

“See you there.” Grant hung up.

****

Grant was sitting in their corner of the Grapevine. He greeted her with a kiss and went to get their drinks.

How lovely, Jess thought, looking at his tall figure at the bar, after the class tomorrow, we’ll have a weekend together.

“This is nice,” she said, when Grant came back with two glasses of red wine. “All the better for being unexpected.”

“I was about to leave,” Grant said, “when Hazel phoned to say a friend offered to take the children until Sunday morning and she was looking forward to some time on her own.”

“She must be feeling better, then.”

Jess had yet to meet Grant’s sister but she knew all about the bad time she’d been having.

Having separated from her husband, she was alone with three young children. She was struggling to cope after a bad bout of flu.

Grant had been travelling a hundred miles away every weekend to help her.

“I think she’s seeing light at the end of the tunnel as far as health is concerned,”

Grant said.

“She sounded more cheerful than I’ve heard her in ages. So, what shall we do with ourselves once your Saturday scribblers have gone?”

“Hey!” Jess squeezed his arm. “That’s a great name for the group.

“The next time I do some advertising that’s what I’ll call it.”

“You’re welcome.” Grant smiled. “How about a drive and a picnic? The forecast is good.”

“Lovely. I’ll pick you up,” Jess said. “Somewhere down the coast – Alnmouth?”

Grant clinked his glass against hers.

“And I’ll put a picnic together. It’s a date.”

****

Jess smiled at the three women. None of them had attended a writing group before.

“I’ve got a couple of ground rules,” she said.

“First, sometimes writing brings up quite personal things and we must respect that – so what we hear in this room stays in the room.”

She saw that Madeleine was frowning.

“Don’t worry, Madeleine. There’s no obligation at all to share your writing; it can be just between you and the page.

“And the second thing is, when a group member does read out what they’ve written, any feedback should be constructive.

“Oh, and the third thing is – we’ll break at eleven for coffee and scones. Not home-made, I’m afraid!”

“Sounds grand. Thank you, Jess,” Tina said.

Tina seems lovely, Jess thought, but there might have been more to her than met the eye.

She’d wiggled her eyebrows and said she’d had some experiences in her twenties she thought she’d like to write about.

Clarissa, the glamorous one wearing a long summer dress, had said when they introduced themselves that she was a great reader of romantic fiction and had always wanted to have a shot at it herself.

Apparently Clarissa and Tina had seen the advert on the library notice board at the same time.

Only Madeleine seemed unclear why she was here.

She muttered about having time on her hands and being new to the area.

“We’ll do something simple to start with,” Jess said. “OK, write for five minutes on how you’re feeling this morning.”

Before anyone could lift a pen the doorbell rang.

“Not expecting anyone else,” Jess said. “Excuse me.”

“Is this where the writing group is?” the man on the doorstep asked diffidently.

“I phoned last week – Neil Garland. Sorry, I couldn’t make up my mind whether to come or not

– do you have a space?”

“The more the merrier!” Jess led him through to the dining-room. “Everyone, this is Neil, come to join us.

“Why don’t you sit there, beside Tina – and we have Clarissa and Madeleine on the other side of the table.”

To Jess’s surprise Tina and Neil recognised each other.

“You’re the man with the library books,” Tina said, grinning at him.

Neil hesitated before pulling out his chair and sitting down.

“This isn’t a poetry class, is it?” he asked Jess.

“You can write whatever you’re comfortable with,” Jess said, wondering what had prompted his question.

An interesting mix of people, my new Saturday scribblers, she thought. I can’t wait to see what they come up with.

****

“How did you get on, dear?” Em asked when Madeleine returned.

Madeleine hadn’t yet processed her thoughts after her morning of meeting four new people.

“I think I enjoyed it,” she said cautiously. “Is Dylan back?”

“Not yet,” Em said. “Would you like a sandwich?”

“Thank you, but we had scones at half