chelmswood

Introduction

Chapter two introduces the reader to the story’s main protagonists: Molly and her son, Jacob. They live in a small house located in the crime-ridden town of Chelmswood. Despite her struggles with mental health, Molly is a thoughtful and caring mother to her son.

Adrift in Amnesia, Chapter Two: Chelmswood (excerpt)

‘It’s mostly grey and it mostly rains’ … so Jacob would say of his hometown situated along the coast in the southwest of England. A cold and blustery, February morning in 2001 saw it pouring down outside. Dark, looming clouds stretched ominously across the skyline, all the way from the Shiel estate on the inner part of Chelmswood to its overcast, drizzly shoreline. With a population of little more than 65, 000, it was not a particularly large town. The beach did not offer much to write home about: a lot of the seafront parade was boarded up with buildings decaying from sand erosion, while the old pier had long been condemned. Nevertheless, it attracted modest levels of low-budget tourism in the caravan parks during the peak holiday season. Families would flock to the seafront from various parts – predominantly the North – and make it their business to get their money’s worth.

Jacob had mixed feelings toward the summer months in Chelmswood. He loved not having to go to school, but was not too keen on venturing to crowded beaches populated by sunburnt, drunken tourists. Occasionally, the heat would simmer to a boil, as scuffles broke out amid a cluster of umbrellas and deck chairs sent flying in all directions: holidaymakers and locals – young and old – getting caught in the crossfire. Sunsets over the bay’s dunes, fairground rides and miniature golf courses saw a brief interlude before the town centre became awash with brawls in the streets, usually from late evening into the early morning hours – the latter being commonplace throughout the year. The spectre of inertia fiendishly proliferated a general sense of despondency, igniting considerable anger and physical confrontation between many young men. Yet it should be said not just among the males – it would not be uncommon to see women getting into the odd fight after too much wine and alcopops. Friday and Saturday nights typically saw the police with their hands full and paramedics never short of work.

Jacob dreamily fixed his gaze on the rain running down his windows with condensation blending into misty skies beyond. His attention was then drawn to a mild scuffling sound emanating from his desk and he saw that his hamster, Scruff, was up and about, helping himself to some breakfast from the bowl in his cage. He went to the toilet then brushed his teeth, the latter always being at the insistence of his mother, Molly, who would regularly check. Most of the children on the estate ate far too much sugar and many were losing teeth when barely out of their teens. Molly was keen for her son to keep his for rather longer than that. Jacob was a little goofy and ever so slightly podgy, though certainly not what you would call fat and he had a decent set of bright, white teeth. He was fair-haired and about average height for his age: eight.

The storm continued to batter the estate outside. Still feeling somewhat sleepy, Jacob slowly descended the stairs and entered the front room where his mum was speaking to a couple of policemen. There was a man outside the lounge window, or rather what was left of it, clearing away the shattered pane before nailing a temporary board to cover it up. Soaking wet shards were still noticeable on the carpet because the police had advised his mother not to touch it before they arrived; optimism inevitably thwarted among contours of evidence cracked and broken into splinters of futility.

Molly had been lying awake in her room when she heard an almighty crash downstairs. She jumped out of bed and grabbed the closest thing to a weapon she could find: her cordless hair dryer, which she hoped might pass for a gun to scare off any would-be burglars. Failing that, it was metal and quite robust so she figured it could do some damage doubling up as a pistol whip if required. Jacob was her main concern, but he appeared to still be fast asleep. She tiptoed along the corridor, past her son’s room and waited at the top of the stairs, ‘gun’ in hand, listening attentively to see if there was anybody in the house. The burglars in Chelmswood were not known for their subtlety and cunning, it was almost always a smash and grab operation. The TV she could handle losing. Regardless, she knew that Jacob would be upset at the loss of his Super Nintendo. Something she would not be able to replace anytime soon, currently struggling somewhat financially.

Creeping down the stairs, she heard a voice all too familiar, ‘Molly! Molly … are you in there, is everything okay?’ There was a knock at the door and she was relieved to see the friendly face of her neighbour, Takoda. Fortunately, nothing had been stolen although it was not the first time their window had been smashed by vandals. It was barely six months since a brick came flying into the front room. This time, it had been a beer bottle. It was 4am when she called the police, but it took a while for them to arrive (too busy dealing with drunken feuds in the town centre). Takoda had just finished closing his kebab shop for the night when he heard a piercing, anomalous sound of glass and popped round to check Molly and Jacob were okay. He made some tea and stayed with her until the police arrived a few hours later.

‘Did you see any of the people who smashed the window, Ms Alexander?’ ‘No, but I wish I had. This is becoming such a huge issue on the estate. We’ve already been burgled twice and friends next door have had their houses and cars vandalised.’ The police officer was commiserate, exhaling depressedly as he responded, ‘I know, Ms Alexander … and we are doing everything we can to find the perpetrators. We have our suspicions but, until we catch any of them red-handed … or a victim who can give a detailed description, then sadly it remains a difficult issue. I do sympathise and we are working to increase a police presence in the area in the hope we might catch those who are doing it.’

Molly appreciated the polite officer’s reassuring words, however, she also knew the ‘increased police presence’ was not likely to amount to much. Though by far the worst part of town, the Shiel estate was certainly not the only spot in Chelmswood that suffered social problems. Much of the law’s resources were strained trying to apprehend the general area’s main drug dealers and tending to calls for the town’s more serious violence. As a result, petty vandals, joyriders and burglars were currently finding the place easy pickings. Some members of the community had come together to write a petition for additional policing and better security on the estate, but unfortunately the Council did not have much of a budget to deal with these problems effectively.

The locality around Shiel comprised a mixture of terraced houses and blocks of flats, splattered with shoddy graffiti close to Chelmswood’s old industrial quarter full of empty, dilapidated factories. Absence decayed through windowless tombs in footprints betraying an all-pervasive vampire, its corpses mirroring a surrounding malaise vanishing into obscurity. The Council’s limited finances for the general upkeep of the town made it near impossible to cope with all of its quandaries, and the whole estate suffered tremendously from poor maintenance. Tenants often had to turn to their own ‘skills’ in DIY or, more commonly, someone local who claimed to possess said skills for a discount price and either bungled it and/or did not get paid for doing the job, which often led to disputes.

The accommodations were principally run by housing associations and rented by those who were either unemployed or on low incomes. Social mobility was virtually an unknown concept, people born in Chelmswood generally stayed in Chelmswood. Antisocial behaviour had mutated into a stubbornly persistent migraine for many of the town’s residents, which showed little sign of abating. Molly and Jacob lived in one of the two-bedroomed terraces running along the main road onto the estate. Outside, the house appeared rather rundown, irrespective of doing her utmost to keep it looking nice and clean. It actually had quite a lot of character inside, partly down to Jacob’s father who had been a skilled carpenter and spruced up the place quite a bit while living there.

Click here for a sample of chapter three.