Hello, I am taking part in NaNoWriMo 2019. For those of you who don’t know NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. (I guess it should be called InaNoWriMo as it is now International!) The idea is to write a novel length story (at least 50000 words) in one month (so at least 1667 words a day for 30 days). Last year I took part and “won” (ie I wrote over 50k in a month). This year I am going to give it another go.
As I did last year I will use @MarianneWest’s daily freewrite prompt as a starting point (so each day I will use themostdangerouswritingapp.com and write for 5 minutes with @mariannewest’s prompt in mind. I will then write another 1500 odd words and publish it on the blockchain so you can see what crap I come up with!
Today is 5rd November 2019 and I am using yesterday’s prompt to write the fifth chapter of my story
(@mariannewest/day-745-5-minute-freewrite-monday-prompt-sea-level)
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Today’s prompt is:
Sea Level
If you are interested you can find the previous Chapters here One, Two, Three, Four
Jenny sometimes dreamed she was back in Humpbuckle-On-Sea. No, sometimes was not the right word. Often. The dreams were visiting her almost nightly of late.
In the recurring dream she was floating on her back, the water warm - warmer than she ever remembered it being - comfortable and safe.
She knew she was home, even though her eyes were closed.
There was something about the smell and the sounds the birds made. Jenny had been to other seaside towns both in the United Kingdom and abroad, but none of them had quite the same sounds and smells like the place she had been born and raised.
In her dream, the feeling of security would suddenly be replaced by anxiety as she sensed the water rise, as though the sea itself was rising around her. She would open her eyes and a surge of panic took hold of her like a giant creature it had her in its teeth. Fear took hold of her. She was going to sink. She was going to drown.
She began to flap her arms and the water felt suddenly as it were thick and sticky like glue. She could barely move her arms, her legs heavy, stuck in the viscous liquid and unable to kick out.
And then, gradually, she began to sink. The more she kicked and clawed at the thickening water the more she was being dragged under. It’s like quicksand. She thought, remembering the adventure books her father had given her to read as a child. The hero often seemed to get caught in quicksand and the more he struggled the more the quicksand took hold of him, engulfed him. She stopped struggling. Af first, it seemed to work. She stopped sinking. But then suddenly it was as if she was in a giant bathtub and someone pulled the plug. The water around her whorled and she was tugged under the water. She opened her mouth to scream and brine filled her mouth and her lungs.
And then she would wake up. The bedsheets wet with sweat.
“I think it is your subconcious trying to tell you something,” Jenny’s mother said over the phone. “I think you are anxious about having the baby alone. I think you should - for your sake and the baby’s - come back home. Have the baby here. Just think how lovely it would be to give birth in the same cottage hosptial you were born in. A sort of circle of life thingy.”
“I’m not alone, Mum. As you well know.For it to be a true circle of life thingy I would have to die in the same hospital.”
“Don’t be so morbid, darling. And don’t be deliberately difficult. You know full well, what I mean. Come home. Your room is always waiting for you. You know that.” A pause. “You can bring your friend if you like.”
“Her name is Sydney, Mum. As well you know. And she is my fiancée, not my friend.”
“Come home. If not for the birth, for a few days just to see me. You know I can’t come down to see you.”
Can’t, Jenny thought. Or won’t. Her mother’s mysterious undiagnosable illness had suspiciously coincided with her announcement that she was engaged to Sydney and expecting her child. Her mother - up until that point - had always given the impression that she accepted her daughter’s sexuality. But the way she had behaved since the announcement had raised doubts in Jenny’s mind and had confirmed Sydney’s view that her mother was “just another bigoted old Daily Mail reading old bag”.
One of the things that Jenny loved most about Sydney was that she didn’t mince her words. It was one of the most frustrating part of her personality too.
“Can’t you just try,” Jenny had pleaded with Sydney the last time they had made the journey up to see her mother. “Just try to get on. Not to take everything she says the wrong way.”
“The wrong way!” Sydney laughed. “I take what she says exactly as she means. There is no misinterpretation. She doesn’t like me, she never has.” Sydney folded her arms. “And she never will.”
“I’m worried about you,” Jenny’s mother said, the last time they spoke. “And I am worried I won’t see you again. I had another fall you know. I’m alright,” she said quickly before Jenny could say anything. “But I’m not getting any younger and if I have one my turns on the stairs… well, let’s just say it might not end very well for me.”
“I’m going to see Mum,” Jenny told Sydney when she put down the phone. “She had another fall.”
Sydney crossed her arms. She always seemed to do that when Jenny discussed her mother.
“So she says,” Sydney snorted. “She is manipulating you. You know that, don’t you. You’ll get up there and she’ll be fine. Why don’t you phone Gill first.”
Gill lived in the bungalow across the street from her mother’s house. Gill was the closest thing her mother had to a friend, although if you listened to her mother you would think they hated each other.
“You’ll never guess what Gill has done now!” she would say, before launching into a story about something Gill said or did that didn’t seem like that big a deal to Jenny, but according to her mother was the next step away from mass murder.
Phoning Gill was a good idea. She would know how her mother was. She’d be able to put Jenny’s mind at rest and save a trip to see her. At least until the three of them - Jenny, Sydney and the baby - went to visit in a couple of months time.
“It’s true,” Gill said. “I was going to phone you but she told me she’d never speak to me if I did. She said that she would tell you herself.”
“Well, for once she kept her promice,” Jenny said without really thinking. “Was it serious?”
“Well, she was stuck on the floor for a few hours. I’d nipped round to bring her back a catalogue she’d lent me and I heard her shout when I ran the doorbell. I had to run back and pick up the key.” Gill had a key to Jenny’s mothers house just in case. “She was in a bit of a state.” Gill lowered her voice, even though Jenny knew she would be alone in the kitchen of her house. “She’d had an accident. Wet herself. Couldn’t get to the toilet. I couldn’t get up. I had to call the ambulance.”
Jenny bit her lip. Sydney was right. Her mother hadn’t been telling the truth. It was much worse than she had let on.
“The doctors wanted to call you, but you know your mother. She can be as stubborn as a mule when she wants to be. I said I’d look after her, move in for a few days but she told me she’d rather die than have me move in. ‘I’ll end up looking after you, Gill,’ she said. ‘You’ll be more trouble than help.’”. Gill laughed and Jenny laughed with her. That sounded like her mother, alright.
“I’m going to up to see her,” Jenny said. “Something isn’t right.”
Sydney shook her head.
“I can’t take time off work,” she said. “Not now. We are so short-staffed at the moment. And, besides, I want to save all my annual leave for when the baby comes. And you can’t drive.” She pointed at Jenny’s bump. “Not like that.”
Jenny laughed. It had been three weeks since she had tried to squeeze into the car.
“I know you are busy, Syd.” Sydney was a junior doctor, currently working night shifts on the Acute Psychiatric Admissions ward. She often came home stressed, frazzled and upset. “I’ll take the coach. It’s only three hours away.”
“But the baby is due soon. You should be resting”
“It’s still a month away, Syd. I’ll be fine. Just a couple of days, and then I’ll be back.”
They hadn’t argued. Sydney knew Jenny too well to bother. But she sulked for the rest of the evening. Sydney had gone off for her shift at seven thirty and she was frosty as she went.
Jenny was tired and went to bed around nine o’clock. She was woken from her sleep - from that dream - by the phone.
“Did I wake you?” It was Gill. She sounded anxious. “Sorry.”
“No,” Jenny said. “Well, yes. I meant, yes you did wake me but no don’t be sorry. What’s happened.”
“Your mother’s had another turn,” Gill said. “She’s in the cottage hospital. I think you need to come, Jenny.”
The circle of life. Her mother’s words came back to her suddenly like a slap in the face. Did her mother know more than she was letting on?
Jenny packed a small bag, phoned the hospital to see how her mother was. They wouldn’t give any information over the phone other than to say she was “comfortable”. She was sleeping and didn’t want to wake her so Jenny left a message to say she was on her way and would see her in the morning.
Sydney couldn’t come to the phone when Jenny phoned the psychiatric ward.
“She’s in with a patient,” Ian one of the nurses said. “Can I take a message?” Jenny left a brief message to tell Sydney what had happened and that she was taking the bus tonight.
She called a cab and got to the bus station around three in the morning. She didn’t have to wait long before the bus pulled up, but as she picked up her bag and attempted to climb the stairs a couple barged past her and she almost fell.
“Let me help you.” Jenny looked up to see the smiling face of a young man with a ponytail.
“Thanks,” Jenny said. This time a year ago she would have been offended if a man had offered to help carry her bags. But in her current condition, she would take all the help she could get.
“My name is Matt,” the man said putting Jenny’s bag in the luggage rack above her seat. “Give me a shout when you need the bag taking down. Or if you need anything else.”
Jenny thanked him, told him her name and shook his hand. She sat down and checked her phone for messages.
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