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NEW AUTHORS SHOWCASE |
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(p8)
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Precious Lives By Graham Wilson |
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(A children’s novel by Graham Wilson)
A Synopsis
Peter and Susan Wilde live in a country village. They have two young sons Ben and Tom. Simon their third son is born, unfortunately starved of oxygen at birth causing physical disabilities. He was confined to a wheel chair for much of his life and refused to make the most the abilities he had been granted.
A happy and contented family was slowly becoming fragmented. Simon was demanding all the attention from his doting parents. Ben and Tom decide to tackle the problem by persuading Simon to go on an adventure with them and leave the comfort of his present existence. He agrees and they set off on bicycles and wheel chair on a journey up a long bill to the Hadmere dam. They achieve their objective, and start their descent. As they approach the lower part of the dam wall, they notice that water is teeming over stonework. The dam wall gives way and Ben is swept down stream. Tom and Simon embark on rescuing their brother, in the fear that he might not be alive. They succeed in a dramatic rescue. The experience has a marked effect on everyone particularly Simon, who now realises that there is more to life than being treated as an invalid.
Precious Lives
Happy families.
They were at the highest point on the ride. Two young boys and their father, having the time of their lives, sitting in the front row of the roller coaster, and not for the first time. They hardly noticed the expansive view of the beach and sea, as they prepared themselves for a breath taking few minutes of the gravity defying experience. Slowly the train approached the steep downhill track and was soon hurtling down towards the lowest part. Then it swooped upwards; turning right and finding high ground again it slowly approached another downhill section. Onward it plunged at break-neck speed only to rise once more on its journey ups and downs. The oohs and aahs of the passengers were deafening, almost as frightening as the ride itself It was without doubt the best ride on the pleasure beach. The rises and falls became less severe, the screams less frequent, until the train came to a gentle stop. The boys and their father breathlessly returned to the safety of the hard ground beneath their feet. “That was wonderful,” exclaimed Ben. “One more go, please dad?” “Ooh yes please,” added his brother Tom. “We can’t,” dad replied. “I’ve got to get you back home. I told your mum that we would be back by seven o’clock, and we’ve got at least an hour in the car. Look at the time. We shouldn’t be late. Mum wasn’t feeling too well, so let’s get on our way. Come on boys.” And so the boys’ day at the seaside came to an end as they set off in dad’s motorcar along the winding road, back to their mum and home.
Peter and Susan Wilde lived in a country cottage half a mile outside the rural village of Molbridge, which itself was ten miles outside the big city, and within easy reach of the coast. Their cottage was an ideal home for a young family, expanding in numbers. It had a thatched roof, a large kitchen-breakfast room three other living rooms and five bedrooms upstairs. They all overlooked an acre of garden. Lawn and flowered borders at the front and west, with a line of mature poplar trees protecting both boundaries. There was a kitchen garden on the east side and a very necessary playing area at the back. On the far side of the kitchen garden was a tiled barn that was used as a garage and accommodated both Peter and Susan’s cars. It was large enough to provide a workshop and storage for garden equipment, children’s toys and those items that are not wanted in the house. The cottage was situated in a quiet tree-lined country lane which on a sunny day provided a perfect setting for an English country garden.
Peter Wilde was exactly six feet tall, well built, with short wavy light brown hair and dark brown eyes. He had strong facial features and sported a well-trimmed moustache, which bristled when he laughed. He was a gentle man, very tolerant and understanding with a quietly spoken voice. Peter had married his childhood sweetheart, Susan, some ten years ago. He had recently qualified as a solicitor and was a junior partner in a large legal practice in the city. He wanted to settle down with Susan and bring up a family and enjoy the security that he had earned and richly deserved. They moved to Molbridge soon after their marriage, and settled in their thatched cottage and re-named it” The Poplars” in recognition of the outstanding feature of trees bordering the garden.
During the first few years of their marriage Susan worked as a secretary for a computer software company in the city. She gave up her employment when she later gave birth to her first son Benjamin. A year later she produced a second son Thomas. Susan was now a full time mother with onerous responsibilities for Ben and Tom, as they had become known. Peter was a devoted father and loved his two sons dearly. He was also a hard working solicitor; his city job kept him in the office until late in the evenings. On many days he would arrive home too late to find his children awake to bid them good night. Nevertheless the boys and he had some great times together, and all such occasions were treasured.
Small expectations.
It was a Monday afternoon in late October. The weather was cloudy with light rain in patches, typical for the time of year. The trees in the lane were shedding their leaves like confetti. The summer had been hotter than usual, the lawns and fields still parched in places in its memory. Susan was resting in the lounge, sitting on a sofa, one foot elevated on a low stool. She was facing the bay window, idly sewing away at a pink piece of knitwear, and dreaming of what was to come. Susan was tall with long blond shoulder-length hair. She had been a keen athlete in her youth, and usually sported a trim figure. Now things had changed. From time to time she proudly caressed her swollen tummy and remembered the elation she felt at the birth of her first and second born. Susan was only a few hours away from giving birth to her third child. There were no fears of midwives and maternity wards, only the anticipation of a miraculous event about to happen. A small case was already packed, ready for the departure to the local cottage hospital at the appointed time.
Peter was also spending time at home, during this critical period. He had taken leave from the office to assist in the home, and in particular oversee Ben and Tom. It was a difficult time for the boys. Ben, who was four, had just started attending a kindergarten most mornings and was separated from Tom, who was a year younger. Ben’s first morning at the nursery school was as traumatic as it was expected to be. His excitement turned into fear, desire into hate and smiles into tears. However mum was determined, and a reluctant Ben gritted his teeth, braved the experience and weathered the storm. He returned a hero, despite an uncertain start. After very few mornings the whole experience was forgotten and attendance at the nursery school became a pleasure for Ben, much to the relief of his mum and dad.
Due to the damp weather, Peter and the boys were in the kitchen that afternoon, making a kite out brown paper sticks and string. Dad was the chief architect and the boys were given simple tasks to satisfy their enthusiasm. The design involved two pieces of bamboo cane, one shorter than the other, bound together to form a cross, rather like a crucifix. Dad then filed grooves at the tips of the cane, which enabled him to put a framework of string round the outside. This was tightened so as to bend the cane slightly and create a secure framework, ready for the brown paper. Dad took great delight in showing Ben and Tom how to make paper glue from flour and hot water. He then cut the brown paper in a shape slightly larger than that of the frame. Using the home made glue he papered the frame by folding and sticking a hem round the string and cane frame. It was about half past four when the papering and gluing was finished. The kite, shaped like an elongated diamond, was put on one side to... |