Louise
by obohobo
Chapter One, A vicious attack.
The loud altercation between May and her daughter Louise had been going on for
some minutes. Knowing Louise's propensity for violence I opened the connecting
gate between our gardens and crossed the lawn to May's house. Two high pitched
screams emanated from the kitchen and on passing the window I saw May leaning on
the counter covering her hands covering face. I arrived at the front door just
as it opened. Louise stormed out, turned and shouted back at her mother,
"Perhaps now you will do as I sodden well tell you!" Seeing me she spat, "And
you can keep your snotty nose out of it."
I am Eric Laxley and at 29 I am comfortably if not well off. My parents died in
a car crash four years previously and I inherited the house, a croft cottage in
the on the small island of Bornholm now a bird sanctuary off the coast of Wales.
Grandfather had bought the croft with eight acres of land during the depression
era when it went for a song. A few years ago the Royal Society for the
Protection of Birds bought the island as a bird reserve and wanted our land too
but we refused to sell. In recent years I've spent a considerable amount of time
there watching and filming the wildlife and acting as a part time warden for the
RSPB. My parents left enough money in bonds and insurance policies that I don't
really have to work but having been apprenticed to a joinery firm, I have a love
of wood and craftwork. Mostly this is for my own enjoyment but also use my
talents helping others either for a nominal charge or no charge at all. My other
love is natural history. I am a keen member of the local Wild Life Trust and
often show excerpts of my animal and bird filming to them as part of their
winter months programme. Some of my films have been made into TV programmes and
that has served to suppliment my income.
May is in her fifties, fairly plump and when not harassed by her daughter, is of
a jovial disposition. Her husband died of cancer a decade ago. Even while my
parents were alive she and I had were on good terms and since their death she
became almost a surrogate mother to me. In return I did a lot of repair work and
other odd jobs on her house.
Louise is totally different in character. She inherited her mothers tendency for
plumpness but her nature is sour and demanding. Her tongue sharp, her temper
quick. A throw back to her grandmother who they say was an absolute tyrant.
Because of this she never had any real friends and all the jobs she tried lasted
only a few weeks at most before she was asked to leave. As a child she learned
that by throwing a tantrum should could get what she wanted from her father,
Unfortunately she did not grow out of the habit when he died continued to
bulldoze her mother in the same way. Even as a not unattractive teenager her
caustic comments kept all but the bravest boys at bay and those that did venture
near were soon stung. As a boy a few years older than her, I learned to keep out
of her way and nowadays tried to work on the house when she was out.
Now at 26 Louise has became more introverted and aggressive to others. Her
father's long battle against cancer with May nursing him twenty fours hours a
day at the end meant there was little money left after the funeral. May took two
part time jobs, one as a waitress in a local cafe and the other as a school
cleaner. Neither paid very well and Louise's demands kept them always in debt.
Entering the house, I found May sitting on the floor, screaming in pain, her
hands still covering her face. A riding crop lay tossed on a chair.
"My God, May, what has she done to you?" I gently removed her hands and was
aghast at the sight. Two livid weals, one across each cheek extending from mouth
to ear. Already they were ridged and a deep crimson colour.
"She wanted salmon and I could only afford cod" sobbed May.
"You mean she welted you for a plate of fish?" I was incredulous. Stunned.
"One thing lead to another and she started on at me again for being the worst
mother in the world and then I lost it and told if that was the case to pack her
bags and leave." "She said it was her home and I should go and when I told her
to get the hell out of it, she picked her riding crop from the hook in the hall
and slashed me."
I tended the weals with witchhazel and a salve and gave her a couple of
paracetamol. Settling her sobbing gently in a chair I phoned Ernie Hargreaves a
friend who was also the local policeman. Ernie was a typical friendly local
bobby. Now nearing retirement he knew everyone in the village and always stopped
for a chat to any he passed by. He of course knew Louise's escapades having seen
May with black eyes and bruises on more than one occasion. Ernie is also a noted
naturalist, and we belong to the same Wild Life Group. We know each other well.
Although off duty he came round immediately.
Seeing May's face he immediately suggested Louise be arrested and charged with
GBH, "Grievous bodily harm," he added. May, he said, should be taken to the
hospital and examined by a police surgeon. He suggested that for further
photographic evidence of the severity should it be necessary I use my Polaroid
camera to photograph it and to take more photos at intervals during the day.
Ernie suggested that Louise would most likely be sent to prison for at least
three months.
Despite her pain and anger, May had no wish to see her daughter imprisoned and
have a criminal record. What was to be done? All of us agreed it would not be
safe for May to live alone under the same roof with her daughter yet May would
not sanction her arrest or being sent to a psychiatric institution. "She just
needs a strong man to control her," she stated with a sideways glance at me.
"How long will she be gone?" I asked. "She took the bus to Shrewsbury and the
next one back to the village isn't until 1 o'clock and the one after that is at
four," answered the still weeping May.
"Then we have most of the day to plan what to do.".
