Lost Apostrophe – the Diary of a Writing Group
by Rosalie Warren
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: None.
Description: EPISODE EIGHTEEN: February 2015 – Katy
Swearwords: None.
Description: EPISODE EIGHTEEN: February 2015 – Katy
The shop is closed. That’s it. The end of an era.
I’ve let my parents and grandparents down. They’re no longer here to see it and I really hope that if anything remains of them, they will not be able to see what’s going on here.
I can’t stop crying. It’s ridiculous. I’ve known for weeks – for months – that this was coming. I suppose a tiny bit of me was holding out some hope, that right at the last minute someone would step forward and bail me out. A mysterious benefactor of some kind. But such things don’t happen in real life.
Now all I have left is my writing… and the rest of my days to look forward to, living in a tiny room in my sister’s flat in Leeds. No more evening walks on the beach. No more Apostrophe – I’ll miss all my friends here so very much. I suppose Julianne will come and visit every now and then, and I’ll come back here when I can afford the train fare… but it won’t be the same. I was going to have another dog, after Barney died, but something stopped me. Thank God it did. I couldn’t have taken a dog with me to Anne’s.
So here I am, walking over the wrinkly sands, kicking the seaweed fronds, letting tiny waves lap over the toes of my old trainers. Feeling the icy February wind in my hair, breathing in the tangy coastal scents, soaking up the memories of happy times. It’s awful. I can’t bear to say goodbye.
My little home above the shop… the rooms badly shaped, impossible to wallpaper, difficult to paint and clean. The seagulls who come to perch on my windowsills and shriek down my chimney.
Leeds is a good place to live these days, Anne tells me. Superb shops – for those who can afford the prices. Fine old buildings. Even the suburb where Anne and family live is not too bad. A park just across the road. I’ll be able to walk there. There’ll probably be seagulls, driven inland from time to time by the storms – but there won’t be any sea.
I should be grateful for her kindness, taking me in. What would I do otherwise? What can I do? Some kind of admin job, I suppose, but who’d take me on at my age? No, I’ll end up part-time behind a counter. But at least I’ll be free from worries about the shop.
Julianne was good when we chatted last night. I’d have invited her round but she wasn’t well – that stomach pain again – so we just talked on the phone. Telling me I should enter some bigger competitions with my stories. I said it didn’t seem worth it but she went on at me until I agreed I’d try the big BBC one this year. Ridiculous prize money – fifteen thousand, I think. As if they’d give that kind of prize to anyone like me. You get professional writers, well-known novelists, entering that one. Nothing to lose, she reminded me – except perhaps the entry fee (must check). She doesn’t realise – I have to watch the pennies. Still, once I’m at Anne’s and have a part-time job. You never know. Someone has to win, she reminded me, and it’s not always the well-known names.
So, I asked her, what about you? Have you started that new novel yet? She just grunted, which meant ‘no’. She’s scared, since her publisher and then her agent ditched her. Thinks she can’t write any more. It’s completely irrational but also understandable. I’ve never had an agent or a proper publisher so I’ve less to lose. At least I still write. Finished a new story last night. Must check the word count and find somewhere to send it.
I’m going to be so horribly lonely in Leeds. Here, I’ve got my friends. Not just the writing group, but other people I’ve known since childhood. A few will keep in touch, most won’t. Out of sight, out of mind.
It’s my own fault, the fact that I’m alone. I could have had a long-term partner, a wife, even, if I’d had the courage. I’ve had all these years… yet somehow the time has never been right. When Dad’s no longer with us, I used to say. After Mum goes… Once Julianne’s over her troubles (didn’t realise that would never happen). I’ve always had some excuse. So stupid, in this day and age, when being a lesbian’s completely acceptable. I bet I could have found someone… whereas if I come out and say it now, they’ll all look at me and say why didn’t you tell us before. I’ll feel such a fool.
Perhaps, if I was braver, I could have had someone like lovely Corinna, the new woman at the group. Not that she’s gay, as far as I know, but someone a bit like her. My own age, a writer or an artist or something like – someone who understands.
Does anyone suspect? Julianne certainly doesn’t – I’ve known her much too long. Eva… no, she wouldn’t. Beautiful Miri? Now if I was a few years younger and… don’t be silly, Katy. Miri is straight, there’s no doubt about that. And anyway, she’s way out of my league. I never was a looker, even in my youth. Always too short, too sturdy, with a matter-of-fact face, not so much ugly as ordinary.
But I could have found someone, if I hadn’t left it far too late.
There’s someone on the cliff top, up there. Bit windy today, I’d have thought, for a cliff top walk. Hope they know what they’re doing. Stupid tourists, going too near the edge – they don’t realise how strong those gusts can be. Wong time of year for tourists, though. Is it a woman or a man? Too far away to see. I won’t be able to turn away now, not till I’ve seen them safely down.
I’ve let my parents and grandparents down. They’re no longer here to see it and I really hope that if anything remains of them, they will not be able to see what’s going on here.
I can’t stop crying. It’s ridiculous. I’ve known for weeks – for months – that this was coming. I suppose a tiny bit of me was holding out some hope, that right at the last minute someone would step forward and bail me out. A mysterious benefactor of some kind. But such things don’t happen in real life.
Now all I have left is my writing… and the rest of my days to look forward to, living in a tiny room in my sister’s flat in Leeds. No more evening walks on the beach. No more Apostrophe – I’ll miss all my friends here so very much. I suppose Julianne will come and visit every now and then, and I’ll come back here when I can afford the train fare… but it won’t be the same. I was going to have another dog, after Barney died, but something stopped me. Thank God it did. I couldn’t have taken a dog with me to Anne’s.
So here I am, walking over the wrinkly sands, kicking the seaweed fronds, letting tiny waves lap over the toes of my old trainers. Feeling the icy February wind in my hair, breathing in the tangy coastal scents, soaking up the memories of happy times. It’s awful. I can’t bear to say goodbye.
My little home above the shop… the rooms badly shaped, impossible to wallpaper, difficult to paint and clean. The seagulls who come to perch on my windowsills and shriek down my chimney.
Leeds is a good place to live these days, Anne tells me. Superb shops – for those who can afford the prices. Fine old buildings. Even the suburb where Anne and family live is not too bad. A park just across the road. I’ll be able to walk there. There’ll probably be seagulls, driven inland from time to time by the storms – but there won’t be any sea.
I should be grateful for her kindness, taking me in. What would I do otherwise? What can I do? Some kind of admin job, I suppose, but who’d take me on at my age? No, I’ll end up part-time behind a counter. But at least I’ll be free from worries about the shop.
Julianne was good when we chatted last night. I’d have invited her round but she wasn’t well – that stomach pain again – so we just talked on the phone. Telling me I should enter some bigger competitions with my stories. I said it didn’t seem worth it but she went on at me until I agreed I’d try the big BBC one this year. Ridiculous prize money – fifteen thousand, I think. As if they’d give that kind of prize to anyone like me. You get professional writers, well-known novelists, entering that one. Nothing to lose, she reminded me – except perhaps the entry fee (must check). She doesn’t realise – I have to watch the pennies. Still, once I’m at Anne’s and have a part-time job. You never know. Someone has to win, she reminded me, and it’s not always the well-known names.
So, I asked her, what about you? Have you started that new novel yet? She just grunted, which meant ‘no’. She’s scared, since her publisher and then her agent ditched her. Thinks she can’t write any more. It’s completely irrational but also understandable. I’ve never had an agent or a proper publisher so I’ve less to lose. At least I still write. Finished a new story last night. Must check the word count and find somewhere to send it.
I’m going to be so horribly lonely in Leeds. Here, I’ve got my friends. Not just the writing group, but other people I’ve known since childhood. A few will keep in touch, most won’t. Out of sight, out of mind.
It’s my own fault, the fact that I’m alone. I could have had a long-term partner, a wife, even, if I’d had the courage. I’ve had all these years… yet somehow the time has never been right. When Dad’s no longer with us, I used to say. After Mum goes… Once Julianne’s over her troubles (didn’t realise that would never happen). I’ve always had some excuse. So stupid, in this day and age, when being a lesbian’s completely acceptable. I bet I could have found someone… whereas if I come out and say it now, they’ll all look at me and say why didn’t you tell us before. I’ll feel such a fool.
Perhaps, if I was braver, I could have had someone like lovely Corinna, the new woman at the group. Not that she’s gay, as far as I know, but someone a bit like her. My own age, a writer or an artist or something like – someone who understands.
Does anyone suspect? Julianne certainly doesn’t – I’ve known her much too long. Eva… no, she wouldn’t. Beautiful Miri? Now if I was a few years younger and… don’t be silly, Katy. Miri is straight, there’s no doubt about that. And anyway, she’s way out of my league. I never was a looker, even in my youth. Always too short, too sturdy, with a matter-of-fact face, not so much ugly as ordinary.
But I could have found someone, if I hadn’t left it far too late.
There’s someone on the cliff top, up there. Bit windy today, I’d have thought, for a cliff top walk. Hope they know what they’re doing. Stupid tourists, going too near the edge – they don’t realise how strong those gusts can be. Wong time of year for tourists, though. Is it a woman or a man? Too far away to see. I won’t be able to turn away now, not till I’ve seen them safely down.
About the Author
Rosalie Warren was once a university lecturer, specialising in Artificial Intelligence and Natural Language Processing. But her earliest love was books and stories, and since taking early retirement ten years ago she has been following her dream of writing and publishing. For details of her publications for adults and children, including science fiction and romantic suspense, see http://srg521.wix.com/mybooks and https://www.facebook.com/RosalieWarrenAuthor/
Rosalie has been an exile from Scotland for the past fourteen years, but still has many happy memories of the wonderful city of Edinburgh, where her children were born and raised, and of the equally amazing Dundee, where she worked for a further three years. Going back even further, she was born and brought up in Yorkshire, and regularly returns there to visit a seaside place not so very different from the town of Castlehaven in her serial.
Rosalie is also a qualified proofreader and editor and (under the name Sheila Glasbey) her editing services can be found at http://www.affordable-editing.com/
Rosalie has been an exile from Scotland for the past fourteen years, but still has many happy memories of the wonderful city of Edinburgh, where her children were born and raised, and of the equally amazing Dundee, where she worked for a further three years. Going back even further, she was born and brought up in Yorkshire, and regularly returns there to visit a seaside place not so very different from the town of Castlehaven in her serial.
Rosalie is also a qualified proofreader and editor and (under the name Sheila Glasbey) her editing services can be found at http://www.affordable-editing.com/