Peter--Sub-plot (development of new characters)

Hazy sunlight filtered through the  closed curtains, casting a solemn blue shade across the silent  bedroom. Two dark figures, an elderly man and woman, heads slightly bowed, stood  anxiously staring down at a girl lying in the bed.  On the other side, a bespectacled man in a white coat.  The girl lies, head propped high on pillows, eyes firmly closed, breathing heavily. From a bag on a metal stand a nasogastric tube drips fluid in fits and starts.  Her arms lay outside the blankets, the right hand tightly gripping a small, black camera.

“How long has she been like this doctor?” asked a dignified, broad-shouldered man wearing a smart black overcoat,  his face betraying an expression of authority.

“It’s over a month now since the accident and she shows no sign of waking.  She suffered a serious blow to the head that has caused her to be in a coma.  However, apart from heavy bruising on her legs and a slight fracture to her right cheekbone, our examinations show no serious damage elsewhere”, the  doctor answered, touching the corner of his dark spectacles.

“Any damage to the brain, doctor?” said the woman, her sharp eyes scrutinizing the patient.

“Not according to our X-rays.”

“How long could she remain in this state?” asked the man in an earnest lower tone,  nervously tapping his Homburg hat against his right leg.

The doctor sighed.  “ It could be months. Then again, she could wake up tomorrow.”

“The camera....?” the woman said, peering closely at the clenched hand.

“Ah, the camera.  She was clutching it when she was rescued from the car and we found it impossible to remove it from her. We fear that if we take it from her, it could have a  disastrous effect.”

For a moment the three studied the child. “You know your niece can hear every word we  speak.  I think perhaps it is better if we go now  to my office.”  The three quietly retreated across the room and, as they left, Nurse Murphy slipped through the door, gently clicking it  to a close.

*********

Maisie was far, far away from that secluded room in a corner of Surrey.  She inhabited a world so strange, so challenging, her heart beat faster.  It was a world where great black bastions of cliffs descended down to the sea and at their foot  were girdled by massive flat  rocky ledges, ceaselessly  pounded by foaming seas.  Here, screeching seabirds dived and colonies of walrus lay crammed together like sacks along the inhospitable shore.

At one end of the beach, the sea had eroded the cliff side and a seething channel of water entered a large cave.  The jagged rocks assembled inside looked like gigantic grey teeth.

Deep in the dark  interior of this fearful place, Griselm, the walrus, with a loud snort that echoed eerily through the endless, subterranean chambers, slowly drew his huge  body out of the shallow channel.  Risik, his changeling minion, stood nearby, whiskered  nose held high in contempt while his protruding, razor-sharp incisors shone in the faint light.  Dark locks fell loosely to his shoulders.  His arms were man-like but the sealskin that hung loosely from his back  like some forbidding cloak gave the impression of a sinister manta ray.  The legs were thin, smooth and developed at the back into the shape of shark fins while the feet were flat and web-like.   

In silence they made their way along a pebble track, Griselm grumbling as he drew his bulk  forward and Risik half bent over to avoid the lowered ceiling.  Ahead of them was a blue glow and the unfamiliar warmth became unbearable as they approached the light.  At last, they reached its source and were standing on a promontory overlooking a long, ultramarine blue  pool  not far below, which stretched to the far recesses of the cave.  Near to the centre of the lake there was a brilliant yellow glow whose flickering light was deflected through the translucent waters.  Swimming helplessly beneath the surface were several human figures, each of whom was connected by a thin golden thread to the dazzling light.  Among the struggling swimmers, Maisie recognized herself by the camera she still held in her hand.

Griselm grunted something to Risik.  The creature answered in a low, almost gasping tone.  “The girl is a new arrival.  You want me to take the machine she holds and cut the cord that  gives her life?”  Griselm shook his head emphatically from side to side and mumbled angrily.

“Just the machine…” Risik understood, already beginning to climb down the rocky cliff to the blue waters below.

*************

In the quiet Surrey hospital, Nurse Murphy flung open the door and shouted frantically along the corridor, “Doctor, doctor, please come quickly!”

*************

Tony: The assault

[Set around 1946 – Rushton has just visited a London hospital, to enquire about the possibility of training to be a doctor]

It was a cold wind blowing from the river, as Rushton walked hastily past the entrance of Smithfield Market, towards the tube station of his choice.

His visit to the hospital had been inconclusive.  The doctor’s words had been, on the whole, encouraging.  A career was open to Rushton, to practise eventually as a specialist.  The cost?  Time – a large chunk of it: certainly enough to drain finances and stamina alike.  If he was quick, the doctor advised, he could make use of one of the government’s training grants, then available to those in his situation.  But time was running out, and a decision would have to be made.

Rushton could not decide.  At least, not yet.  Snow was beginning to fall – he pulled up the collar of his coat and glanced at his watch.  There was just time for a warming cup of tea before the train journey home to his mother and father.  They, too, would be waiting for the outcome of his visit.

He shouldered open the door of a street-side café, which seemed, as he gazed through the steamy windows, to offer some seats.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke.  He paid for a large mug of tea, and perched on a stool near the one window which was mercifully free of condensation.

He looked out.  The ceaseless lights of the cars went by, and a man, dressed in an expensive-looking coat, stood with his back to Rushton, leaning against the window.

Rushton stared at the fibres of the man’s coat, pressed against the glass, only inches from his own eyes.  Rushton's mind was still wrestling with the choice he had to make.  His mind’s eye kept reverting to the startling medical specimens which the doctor had shown him in the hospital laboratory, as they made their way out.  Enormous tumours in bottles, exuding a scent of formaldehyde.  Eyes, muscles, a man’s dissected hand, all the elaborations of human anatomy, occupied Rushton’s memory, troubling his thoughts.  The human body was indeed a formidable thing.  What could he, Rushton, hope to contribute to its salvation?

Outside, the man in the expensive coat was apparently being addressed by another man, dressed shabbily, his face murky and indistinct.  Rushton, yawning wearily, took up a tattered newspaper, which he attempted to read.

He heard sudden cries and a shout from outside, and a heavy thump as something hit the window-glass.  Rushton backed away instinctively, and saw the shabbily-dressed man grasping something in his hands.  Peering more closely, Rushton realised with horror that it was the staring, gasping face of the well-dressed man, now scratched and torn across the eyes, with blood oozing from his nose.  Those staring eyes riveted Rushton.  They showed a raw terror, such as one might see in a trapped animal, lacking all hope of escape.

A short man, with a conspicuously stubbly chin, barged past Rushton and opened the café door to the street outside.  Rushton followed, and, feeling snow on his face, came onto the pavement, almost tripping over the man in the elegant coat, who was now lying on his back, prone.  Above, the shabby man was raising his hand high, as if to strike a decisive blow.

“No!”  The stubbly man had thrown himself against the assailant, and was now wrestling clumsily with him, losing his cap and flailing around wildly, before getting an arm around the shabby man’s neck, and hauling him clear.

There was a menacing sound of snarling, scuffling and growling, as Rushton himself knelt down beside the prone man, who was raising trembling arms, as if to ward off a further attack.  His eyes, which had so impressed themselves on Rushton before, were raised towards him now in a piteous appeal for protection.  The stylish coat was torn, and the man’s jacket was ripped open, revealing his bare, exposed chest, rising and falling rapidly.

So this was life.  Rushton remembered the bizarre, almost grotesque, medical specimens he had seen in the laboratory.  Something stood between them and this man lying beside him.  Those fearful forms had seemed devoid of hope – here was a man still clinging to the living world, his body threatened, his life revealed in all its fearful vulnerability.

“Is he alright?”  A man, in a black, snow-smeared coat, was kneeling beside Rushton, who in his confusion thought it might even be a doctor, come from the nearby hospital.

Another voice now spoke:  “He needs help ….  We’ll take him in ….”  A bearded man, tall and solemn, had approached them, and now seemed to be taking control of the situation.  Rushton, in a daze, now backed away, and, wiping the snow from his eyes, moved slowly off, to where the rush-hour crowds were gathering at a nearby crossing.

He knew, now, what he could do.

Having considered medicine rather in the abstract as a career, Rushton, as a result of this experience, now feels convinced that it is his “chosen path”, and the novel continues with Rushton's recollections of his life as a medical student.

Hilary - Assault

Carrie flounced along the pavement. Her short flared skirt bounced from side to side as she swung the shopping bag with her recently bought breakfast of a crusty French baton and cheese onto her shoulder. The sun shone with that clear brightness that only happens in Paris at a particular time of day in the summer, just after sunrise and in time for breakfast. She would find a spot to eat this before she found a place to stay.

Carrie smiled to herself, a little self consciously, as she imagined her Mother’s fury when she discovered that her credit card had been used to pay for Carrie’s short trip to Paris by Euro star. Carrie had felt no guilt as she reeled off the number and the expiry date to the tele- sales girl and thumbed a lift to London Waterloo to collect the ticket and jump aboard. Why would she? She had even booked  first class !

As she sat on a park bench breaking off a large chunk of baton and opening the Vignotte, she suddenly saw a good looking young guy walking toward her. He didn’t take his eyes from her and she smiled at him. As he got closer to her she saw that he was smiling too.

“Hey” the guy spoke in the universal language of the young.

“Hey” Carrie sat with her bread in one hand said “You want some?” indicating the cheese and bread with a nod.

“‘Merci,” he sat down by her side and offered his hand “ Josh,” he said by way of an introduction.

“ Carrie pleased to meet you.'You English?” asked Carrie as she handed him some cheese and bread.

“ Canadian”. Josh gratefully took Carrie’s offering. “ Here on a scholarship. Bloody difficult getting by on my grant though”.

They chewed on the bread and cheese and spent the next hour discussing the merits of the Paris hostels before Josh offered to take her to one he knew in the 13^th Arrondissement. She laughed and pulled a face exclaiming “ Eew!” when he said it was called ‘Hotel Rive Gauche’.

She followed him through the streets. The district had become a little seedy as they walked, with high rise apartments on both sides of the street and grey concrete areas where people were either sitting with beer cans or smoking.  The smell of dope wafted on the air, and small groups of kids were playing rowdy street games. After a while he took her hand. She felt comforted by this and smiled up at him.

As they rounded a corner they walked straight into a group of youths.

Carrie immediately felt the flow of fear go through her. This was no ordinary get together of a group of friends on a street corner. The group turned to face them as one. It was as if they had some internal flock mechanism. One of the youths came toward them swaggering.  He stopped when his face was inches from Josh; the others remained still and menacing, none of them losing eye contact with Josh. Josh’s grip on her hand tightened.

“Stay with me and don’t say anything” he whispered. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you” His voice was calm and reassuring and she believed him completely. She held on to his arm, trying desperately not to let the youth see her shaking.  She could feel her head shaking and panic rose in her until she felt sick.

“Guys, we want no fuss” Josh was still calm lifting both hands in the air in the sign of appeasement. He gave the youth the same smile he had given Carrie. “We have no cash, just let us be”

With no warning, the youth butted Josh in the head and threw him to the ground.  The four others then set upon him in unison, kicking him, until he cried out in pain.
Carrie was shaking, but watching, fascinated by the almost surgical precision of every blow that landed on Josh. She felt as if she were watching a movie, it was then that she saw the swift motion and a glint of a blade. She cried out and the group turned as one to look at her. She saw the look in their eyes and knew what was coming.

“Josh!” she whimpered as she turned and ran for her life. She never looked back, but in her mind she was screaming for Josh. Her breath was coming in short gasps as she rounded the corner and saw the glistening white neon sign saying ‘Rive Gauche’.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scenario 1 – Carrie tells someone what she has witnessed but this could put her in serious danger from the gang

 

Scenario 2 – Although Carrie grieves for Josh and is ashamed of her reaction, she doesn’t tell anyone about it – but could Josh come back into her life? Why was he assaulted ? Did he know the gang?

Scenario 3 - She uses her wiles to revenge Josh’s injuries by involving herself with the street gang, with awful consequences for both her, Josh and her family at home in the UK

Assault: Possibilities re plot/consequences. Sue

It was nearing closing time. Charlotte peered out of the window for the umpteenth time, wondering whether she should fake sleep, welcome Martin back with open arms or continue their argument. She still felt bereft by his decision to go the pub with the others, envious of his ability to fit in better than her and frustrated by her own refusal to join them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the noise coming from Alex and Anna’s caravan.  She turned her attention to them and watched as their door opened to reveal Dominic on their step. She clearly saw the figures of Alex, Anna and Dominic, as they descended the step and were revealed in the immediate spot lit arena of the caravan.

A series of tableaux, with accompanying soundtrack, played out in front of her. Her senses became disconnected, leaving her feeling strangely removed from herself and what she was witnessing. She heard anger, shouting, accusations and pleas. She saw, in strobe-like vision, momentary flashes of searing clarity and scenes that were blurred by the darkness.

She saw Anna moving towards Dominic, Alex grabbing Anna to try and hold her back, Dominic pulling Anna away from the caravan towards him. Dominic was the stronger and Anna fell into his arms but was then moved aside. Then the men were fighting and Anna was trying to intervene but both men kept pushing her out of the way. There was a momentary flash of a knife within the scrum and the next clear view was of a heap of bodies on the ground. Sound realigned to fit the scene - mixed screams of pain and someone calling for help.

Throughout it all, Charlotte remained as frozen as a rabbit in headlights, aware of danger, wanting to do something to make it stop but too scared to reveal herself or make any move.

As her sound and vision unified, Charlotte heard and saw Martin and the gang rushing towards the caravans. Reality hit and she had no idea of what to do next. 

 Plot possibilities

(Context: Alex suffered a serious knife wound, neither Anna nor Dominic admits to inflicting it, Anna had previously promised to leave Alex and move in with Dominic)

1.Charlotte does not admit to the fact that she was a witness:.

• This could play out with Charlotte internally “knowing”, as does the reader, who stabbed Alex.
•  Or, Charlotte could think she “knows” but is mistaken, or remains unsure, as she cannot piece what she saw together. The reader has extra insight and knows for sure so can read rest of novel with this insight.
• Or, the reader could be left unsure as to what Charlotte witnessed, or what she really knows (or does not know) and is left to guess, fill in missing gaps or pick up on clues revealed as the novel progresses.

 

2. Charlotte admits to being a witness to the scene - some plot choices:

•  She fills in details that she did not witness at the time, leading to the wrong person being convicted of knife assault. This can play into her relationships and the plot... loads of possible permutations and consequences.
• Or, she gives a statement to police but she cannot identify who wielded the knife so they do not take any further action. The circus community would rather she had not co-operated with the police and find it increasingly difficult to accept Charlotte and Martin.
• Or, she describes what she witnessed only to the circus community, but they suspect her of hiding facts or protecting the stabber, as she remains unsure as to who inflicted the knife wound. Loads of potential for relationships issues and consequences.

 Whether 1 or 2. Her sense of safety and trust are shattered, she feels disconnected with everything and everyone around her. She has bad dreams, feels alternatively fearful/numb, guilty/angry/ashamed and finds it difficult to stop thinking about what happened (plus other PSTD like symptoms).  This affects her sense of self and what she really wants, her relationships, actions, reactions and consequences (especially re Martin).

The Assault - Sandra

:May poured hot milk into the mug  and stirred vigorously. She could not bear getting small lumps of congealed  Horlicks floating on the top of her bedtime drink. I'll be glad to get to my bed she thought to herself.  The sudden sharp tone of the phone ringing insistently made her start and make a grab for it. Who could be ringing her at this time of night. What could they be thinking of, waking the whole house up.
May felt quite cross as she answered , "Thurton 632".
"Mum, its me". May could bearly hear her daughter over her crying. "Doreen is that you? What on earth is wrong?  Is Sarah ok?"
"Sarahs' fine but I need you to come and get her before Carl gets back, you must hurry, please". It was obvious to May that her daughter was very agitated and distressed. "Doreen what has happened?" she asked worriedly. " I will tell you when you get here, but please you must be quick". May heard the receiver go down with a click. 'Oh my God', she thought, what mess has she got herself into now.
May quickly took off her dressing gown and pulled a cardigan on over her nightdress. She kicked off her slippers and putting her  bare feet into her shoes, grabbed her coat from the hall and was gone.
Doreen had recently moved into a new house on the edge of town with her boyfriend Carl. Carl had always been polite and friendly towards May but there was just some undefineable thing about him that May could not take too.  Carl had a good job as a telephone engineer and at first had seemed like a blessing after Doreen's long line of past disastrous relationships. However, Sarah had told her that sometimes Carl got very cross and threw things around the house and shouted at her Mummy.
May's feet felt like they could not move fast enough to keep up with her thoughts. She walked as quickly as the arthritis in her knees would allow and shivering, buttoned her coat to the neck. It was a cold night, the wind blew through her thin coat and she felt cold to the bone. The high street was almost deserted.  Just a few courting couples, huddled together. She turned right at the Swan pub, towards the new estate where Doreen lived. As she walked by the pub she glanced through the window- she saw Carl leaning on the bar.
'Looks like he's had a skinful ',she thought. May was relieved that she had beaten him home and quickened her pace.
As May neared Doreen's house she saw that the lounge light was on and noticed Doreen flick the curtain back. The next minute Doreen was at the door. May was not prepared for what she saw.
Doreen's face was bruised and an angry gash ran the length of her cheek. Her nose was swollen and bloody and her eyes were almost closed.
" My God what has happened to you?" May asked, although she already knew the answer.
Doreen did not reply just urgently beckoned May inside then locked and bolted the door behind her.
" I have packed Sarah a case. Now you are here I will just get her up". Doreen walked towards the stairs.
She turned as she climbed "Thanks for coming" she stuttered and sank down onto the stair, clutching her hair and sobbing into her hands. May walked towards her feeling more love towards her daughter than she had for years, Doreens distress was obvious, she looked like a small bird sat there, a broken spirit. Whatever her daughter had done wrong in the past May was sure she did not deserve this. May sat down on the stair next to Doreen and tenderly held her close. It was as they sat there that Carl came home.
They heard the key in the door,  the shouted obscenities as he realized that the door was bolted.
Then he started hammering on the door. "Open the fucking door Doreen or I will kick it in" . May and Doreen sat where they were. Carl shouted again and above them May saw her 5yr old  grandaughter Sarah standing bleary eyed with sleep at the top of the stairs. Woken by the commotion Sarah's eyes were wide with fear.
May got up and went to Sarah, picking her up and  uttering reassurances that she did not feel; she carried Sarah back into her bedroom and closed the door. Carl was still shouting and kicking at the door.  May heard Doreen talking, giving out her name and address,she guessed Doreen was calling the police. 'Oh please get here quickly', May silently pleaded.
May lay down on Sarah's bed with her. "Wrapping her arms around the childs head trying to shield her from the vicious shouts below.
A loud crash of breaking glass and a scream from Doreen told May that Carl had broken through the patio door.
" You bitch" he bawled.
"Carl please, no more " Doreen pleaded.
May got up from the bed and pushing  the door  ajar saw Carl with his hands around Doreens throat, spitting furiously into her face. " I will tell you when you have had enough you slut". Doreen was trying to back away from him, feeling her way along the wall, she grabbed the table lamp and hit it smartly over Carls head.
Carl stumbled but regained his balance and grabbed at Doreen, he held her still with one arm and punched her in the face. Doreen fell to the floor and he kicked her in the stomach.
May was terrified  for Doreen but her feet were rooted to the spot. She was shaking from head to foot.
What should she do?. If she went down and Carl started on her, what would happen to Sarah?
May had never been so glad to hear the sirens of the police cars as they sped up to the house.
Carl on hearing the sirens ran to the back of the house and throught the back door.  Seeing him run off  May hurried down to her daughter who lay clutching her belly.
"Oh, my dear girl" May sobbed - remembering her daughter as a child- so full of  spirit and anger that May had never understood and had never been able to curtail. "My poor,poor, child.".
================
Consequences
May suceeds in persuading Doreen to let Sarah live with her.
There is a greater empathy between May and her daughter although they struggle to co-exist.

Peter--The Assault

PETER—THE ASSAULT

Ned raced across to the rail gate.   The metal ladder hung intact down the side of the ship.  At its foot floating in the brash ice, two polar bears Nochoska and another, Petuk.  Ropes trailing from their mouths attached to a kayak bobbing about in the brash.

Ned climbed over and, clinging to the metal banister, descended.  Nochoska emerging, shook and snorted and watched as Ned climbed into the kayak, then he and Petuk, heads hardly visible above the scattered ice, drew the kayak into the open water, where Ned began paddling vigorously.

The two bears swimming side by side pulled the boat steadily through the dark blue sea of Beijick Bay - the breeze whipping up wavelets.  The pale blue sky above tinged with pink on the horizon.  Not far away, gleaming in the sunshine, two large icebergs drifting towards the open sea.  Beyond them Ned could make out the shore of Howlett’s Island.  The rugged brown headland patched with snow was where they would find safety.   

Inshore winds impeded their progress.  Halfway across the bay, shouts and cries were heard on the SS RADEX EXPLORER.  Ned turned.  The motor launch was being lowered into the sea.

“We’re being chased, Nochoska!” he cried, redoubling his efforts with the paddle. The two bears just ploughed on.  Alas, they were no match for the launch. The powerful inboard motor sent it surging forward. Five minutes later, Ned’s heart sank; a quick glance and he could clearly make out the sealskin-coated men aboard. But when he looked to the front, Nochoska and Petuk had changed direction. Ned gulped.  They were heading for the nearest iceberg.

As they drew closer, the weather-beaten battlements of ice loomed menacingly above them. Ned felt nervous. The wind dropped as they moved easily across the becalmed waters of a cove of ice and entered a cave at the foot of a towering buttress of ice.

The sounds of the motorboat and seabirds’ cries were all suddenly lost and Ned closed his eyes as they passed beneath a portcullis of jagged giant icicles, whose dagger points hung forbiddingly above them.  The roar of the motorboat and seabirds’ cries all suddenly banished as they glided into a glistening world, whose silence was broken by the plash of Ned’s paddle and the occasional ominous crack of ice. The kayak sped along a narrow channel of bottle- green water that turned to a sombre blue as the light diminished.

Aboard the motor launch Petty Officer Timpson ordered “Cut the engine!”  The craft began to stutter, slow and bob in the waters at a safe distance from the formidable iceberg. Timpson stared through his binoculars thoughtfully, watching as the kayak was swallowed by the iceberg.

 “We’re not going in there,” he said earnestly “I’ve seen those things topple and disintegrate.  It’s too dangerous.”  The three hooded crewmen watched with fascination.  A fourth sat apart at the stern. An indescribably ugly man, long hair falling from his hood, his face a bush of whiskers, long incisor teeth, hanging over his bottom lip. He got up and leaning over the side, let out a terrible scream that made his companions shiver with fear.

Timpson waited for kayak to reappear, then shook his head. “To the ship,” he barked.  With a roar, the engines came back to life.  

In the ice tunnel Ned was overawed by the gloomy, glistening world around him and wondered where Nochoska was taking them.  Beneath the shadowy but clear water he could make out the bed of ice about six metres down. When a shaft of bright light appeared ahead, Ned felt a sense of relief.

The tunnel of ice abruptly ended, opening up into a grand hall whose walls were curtains of ice.  A brilliant beam of light burst into this grand chamber through a crevasse that zigzagged across a ceiling draped with stalactites.  The kayak was now upon a kingfisher blue lake whose shores were surrounded by labyrinths of ice.

Nochoska seemed to be heading to a bank that lay some distance before them. Ned was distracted by a snort. He turned. Three walrus, their large bulbous bodies moving swiftly beneath the waters like submarines.  To his horror, two of them swam alongside Petuk, turning and slashing at her. Petuk released the rope and, swerving round, began to defend herself. The third walrus swam beneath Nochoska, somersaulting and trying to strike at her belly. She let go of the rope and disappeared beneath the surface. Ned paddled frantically for the ice shore and pulled the kayak clear.

In front of him now, the once tranquil waters boiled with motion as the polar bears did battle with the walrus.  At moments the walrus seemed to leap out of the water and then fell back, with great explosions of water sending waves lapping the shore. The combatants charged and swerved and crashed. The force and confusion were so great. Ned could not make out amongst the swirling bodies who was winning. He stood aghast, helpless as pools of blood began to appear in great patches.  It had never once occurred to him that the walrus would be enemies. Heads appeared momentarily, gasped at the air and disappeared as the struggle ensued. Then one of the walrus floated immobile like a grey island in the lake. The battle continued.  Suddenly in a swirling whirlpool of water Ned was aware of two dark shapes slipping towards the tunnel. For some moments nothing happened.

“Nochoska! Nochoska!” Ned called, running to the edge of the lake. The bloodied head of the bear appeared in the middle of the lake and slowly made its way towards the shore. He emerged from the waters, slashes across his legs seeping blood. He shook himself.

Ned raced forward. “Nochoska! Nochoska!”  Put his arm around his neck. “Where is Petuk?”  Nochoska shook his head and stared for a moment at the lake. Moving towards the rope, he began to pull the kayak across the shelf of ice. Ned stopped, paralysed, between the lake and the departing Nochoska.. Staring at the lake, the bloodstained body of Patuk had emerged, floating limp in the centre of the pool, limbs outstretched.

Overwhelmed with anguish, Ned stood, head bowed motionless. A fierce bark rang out at the top the shelf.  Nochoska was standing on the rise, turning his head as good as to say “Come, come away.” Ned couldn’t move. There was a huge symphony of cracks; the ice beneath his feet began to quake, the walls shudder.  Nochoska’s bark became almost a snarl.  Confused, Ned scrambled up the incline to the crest.

SUBSCRIPT

Ned had never realized until now that the walrus did not want to expel the oil explorers. This will have a serious effect on the plot.  The loss of  Petuk, a close friend, has triggered a memory of his former life and how his family must feel the loss of his presence.

Julie - The Assault

The lad on the chopper bike seemed to appear from nowhere.  One minute, Cassie was walking down Fircombe high street, about ten feet behind an elderly lady, the next, the youth had swooped past Cassie and grabbed the old lady’s handbag, which was looped over her right arm.  The brakes squeaked as he stopped sharply and he yanked at the bag, breaking the strap.  He tucked the bag under his right arm and pedalled away quickly, turning left at the end of the street.  Cassie had a glimpse of a silver bike, a dark top, and a Norbridge United blue and yellow bobble hat, then he was gone.  It was over so quickly, and was so surprising, that she had no time to do anything to stop the assault. 

The momentum of the bag being pulled away had sent the old lady flying.  Her walking stick rattled to the ground as she fell awkwardly on her side.  Cassie ran and crouched down beside her.  The old lady was whimpering, ‘oh no, oh no.’

Cassie looked around for help.  The street was largely deserted.  A couple of people walking some yards in front of the old lady seemed unaware of the drama.  A mother behind, with a pram, was pre-occupied with chastising a toddler who, apparently, would not ‘walk properly’.  There were a few cars travelling up and down the high street, but none stopped.

‘I’ll go and phone for help,’ Cassie said with a confidence she didn’t really feel.  ‘Don’t move.’

The phone box was on the opposite side of the road.  Cassie crossed quickly and, with a trembling hand, dialled 999.  While she spoke to the emergency services she kept an eye on the old lady, observing the dark brown coat, gold headscarf and the brown lace-up shoes that reminded her of her grandmother.  A middle-aged man emerged from Liptons, the nearest shop to the incident, and bent down to talk to the old lady.  He took off his jacket and gently placed it under her head.  Cassie’s heart was pounding hard in her chest as she crossed back over the road.  She felt sorry for the victim and hoped she wasn’t badly injured. 

As if reading her mind, the man greeted Cassie with ‘Mrs Broughton here says her hip hurts.’  He was patting the old lady’s hand reassuringly.

‘The ambulance is on its way,’ Cassie told them.

‘Did you see what happened?’ the man asked.

‘Lad on a bike nicked her bag,’

‘It had my pension book it in,’ the old lady cut in.  ‘I’d just collected my money from the Post Office.’  She paused, grimacing with pain. 

‘Lads like that ought to be strung up,’ the man offered.

Cassie nodded.  ‘The Police are coming, too.  I just hope they catch him.’

***

OUTCOMES FOR THE PLOT

1. Cassie is on work experience at the local newspaper from her secretarial course and goes with the reporter to interview the old lady in hospital.  Cassie is closely involved with the development of the story and decides she would like to follow a career in journalism.
2. She is more suspicious of people and no longer takes them at face value – this will prove useful in her chosen career!
3. She becomes more aware of the vulnerability of the elderly, and is more considerate towards her own grandmother.