Today we recommend a trilogy
for adult readers
Intelligent,
well-spoken and beautiful, Helen Pawson has lived a privileged life. Her
parents have made sure she wants for nothing. She’s attended the best private
schools and has learned to appreciate the finer things in life. In her mind,
she has everything she needs at her fingertips.
Her father’s
unexpected illness soon turns Helen’s world topsy-turvy. To make matters worse,
she experiences a betrayal that will last a lifetime. Determined to
overcome the mental illness she fights she dives head-first into a decision
that will change her life forever.
The trials and
tribulations of marriage leave her wanting more. From the life she leads.
Displeased and tired of her husband’s dark secrets, Helen sets out on a voyage
of self-discovery. One that leads her straight into the arms of dashing Simon.
Startled by the fact
that she enjoys carnal pleasures in more ways than one, Helen agrees to Simon’s
subtle demands. In doing so, he opens her eyes to the dark and gritty world of
being a call girl. A world she begins to crave.
The secrets of
Helen’s past follow her at every turn. If she’s to succeed in making something
of herself, she’ll need to confront each of her ghosts. Will she be able to set
all wrongs to right before it’s too late? Or will her new hunger for more end
up swallowing her in the process?
“They’ve all been tried and tested at some of our other
dinner parties.” I told Anthony. “Do you think the menu’s alright then? I don’t
want to try anything new in case I make a mess of things.”
“This menu will be fine, trust me. They’ll love it.” He
replied confidently.
I’m not so bloody sure about that!
The dreaded evening arrived. Anthony went out to welcome
them as their car pulled into the drive. I peered out of the kitchen window
hoping I wouldn’t be seen by them. Always brought up to believe that it is good
manners when you get invited out to dinner to take a gift along; a bottle of
wine, flowers or even some chocolates, I wasn’t sure what to expect from them.
I noticed they were both empty-handed. I walked over to the door to greet them
as they entered the kitchen and held out my hand,
“Eileen! John! How lovely to see you again.”
“Hello.” She grunted, poker-faced as usual as she glanced at
my proffered hand and pushed straight past. John put his hand out, fleetingly
shook mine and swiftly pulled it back out of my grasp. Hell fire, did he think
he was going to bloody catch something from me if he held on too long? I looked
over at Anthony to see if he noticed their reactions towards me…he had. He
shrugged his shoulders at me and asked them both if they wanted a glass of
wine. Eileen said she’d have a glass but quickly followed with,
“Your father won’t want one, he’s driving.”
Like he had a choice in the matter!
“Would you like a tour of the house, Eileen?” I offered
politely.
“I’ll show myself around, or Anthony can give me a tour. You
get back to heating the ready meal.” She walked off leaving me totally
flabbergasted. I heard her footsteps on the stairs seconds later. Again I
looked at Anthony for support and mouthed the words at him ‘get back to heating
the ready meal up?’ He mouthed back,
‘Shhh!’ and shook his head. I gave him one of my looks and
stomped back to the kitchen. So he was going to let his mother get away with
everything. Maybe he would, but I was definitely not going to!
They took their seats in the dining room half an hour later
and I served up the starter before sitting down myself. Eileen stared at her
plate a few seconds too long, looked over at Anthony and asked,
“What on earth is this?” I just couldn’t resist,
“Why don’t you ask me, Eileen? Anthony doesn’t really
remember, and it was me who did the cooking.” She didn’t even acknowledge me or
cast a look in my direction.
“They are called Glamorgan sausages (pointing at them), and
that is red onion chutney” I said (pointing again), and indicating next the few
lettuce leaves and cherry tomatoes, “and that’s a bit of salad on the side.”
I could feel Anthony’s eyes burning into the side of my face
and I didn’t give a damn!
“Is it cheese?” She asked.
“Yes. Caerphilly.”
She pushed the plate away, remarking, “Cheese gives me a
headache.”
“Forgive me, Eileen.” I said in my sickliest of voices, “I
never realised.” I caught a disapproving look in her direction from her
husband. The main course also met with disapproval,
“I do think lamb is so terribly fatty. We hardly ever eat
it.”
I chose to ignore the comment, carried on eating, and
listened to her continued, scathing remarks to Anthony about the décor in our
bedroom, our choice of leather suite in the lounge and how we rushed in to
marriage far too soon. She pushed her food around the plate as she talked and I
noticed the determination on her face. The bloody woman had no desire to eat
anything that I cooked and furthermore, she was hell bent on insulting me at
every given opportunity.
I could see that John was starting to feel very
uncomfortable with her behaviour and perhaps feeling a little sorry for me. He
ate everything on his plate and complimented me on the menu, despite the glower
he got from his wife. He was interested in, and asked me intelligent questions
about my work and badminton, which he apparently had been pretty good at in his
younger days. The guy was actually good company and pleasant to talk to. I was
pretty adept at being able to hold a conversation with one person and pick up
on things being discussed in a second conversation and sure enough, Eileen
carried on spewing out her cynicism.
As I served up dessert and placed Eileen’s in front of her I
couldn’t stop my sarcasm surfacing,
“Eileen, if the dessert is not to your liking I can get you
some ice-cream from the freezer - something that I’ve not prepared.”
It was a waste of time, the woman was so thick-skinned. I
was by now, avoiding all eye contact with Anthony and John couldn’t fail to see
the warning looks from Eileen while I had been in the kitchen as he became very
quiet again. I ate my cheesecake and decided I had enough tension for one
night. Pushing my chair back and standing up, I announced,
“Do excuse me folks, I have a headache and I’m going to bed.
It has been nice to see you again, John.”
“Too much wine darling?” Anthony asked me sarcastically.
“No! It must be the cheese in the Glamorgan sausages. Good
night!” and feigning calmness and serenity I walked out and left them.
I heard their car pull out of the drive fifteen minutes
later, which was rapidly followed by Anthony’s footsteps thundering up the
stairs. He shoved the bedroom door wide open, hitting the chest of drawers
behind it and pointed at me accusingly,
“YOU” he shouted loudly “have embarrassed me tonight, Helen.
How dare you treat my mother in that manner?”
I’d already calmed down and was ready for the onslaught I
knew was coming.
“So it’s just fine then…the way she has been trying to
belittle me all evening? You did not find anything wrong with the things that
she said to insult your wife, Anthony? That is acceptable is it…for her to
speak to me the way that she did? Does my father talk down to you? Does he
insult you at every given opportunity? He never would do that though, he has
better manners, and at least he likes you. But if he didn’t, I would still
defend you, Anthony. That is what a husband and wife should do after all, support
each other. She hates me! I think your dad likes me but he has to do her
bidding. I feel sorry for him.”
I struck a chord. The truth hurt! He was beyond furious.
Unable to defend his mother further he screamed,
“F*** YOU, HELEN!” and with that, he slammed the bedroom
door and was gone. For the first time since we married, I woke up alone the
next morning. Anthony slept in one of the guest bedrooms for the night.
Eva Bielby
Eva Bielby was born
in North Yorkshire in the Northeast of England. She has spent over thirty years
of her working life as a company accountant. Eva has a keen interest in
spiritualism/mediumship and has attended several workshops to develop her
skills further. During her quieter moments, Eva enjoys a cryptic crossword,
sudoku, and gardening.
