So we set to work and it was absolutely as you would imagine a Creative Writing class to be, that typical scene of people reading out their work and the class and the teacher feeding back. I felt completely unqualified to comment on other people's stories and so didn't say much at all! But the stories were really enjoyable and it was great to hear what others had written.
We were then set the task of selecting a photograph from a range of pictures laid out on the table. The idea was to pick a photograph and then build a character from there. The picture I chose was of a women in her late thirties with a little baby in her arms. She is looking down on him, with her eyes almost closed, she has dark circles under her eyes, but looks so content, with a faint smile on her lips. So, here is the second draft of my very first story. It may change drastically before it needs to be handed in next week, so don't be too critical!
Time to Change The Law
Natasha flew about the house like a whirlwind, manically flitting from one job to the next. Although she had barely slept for the last two weeks, she was putting washing away like a demon. As she was expertly putting socks away in the bedside table drawers, she became distracted by the small collection of dirty glasses and cups on top that needed to be taken downstairs. On the way to the kitchen, she noticed the thin layer of grey dust, which had just been illuminated by the bright afternoon sunlight that was now streaming through the hall window on to the sideboard, she put down the glasses and nipped to the utility room to get the duster and polish out. Oh how she missed her cleaner! But she knew her husband was right, if she wasn’t working, they needed to cut back.
Sideboard cleaned, she put back the duster in its place and while she was there she quickly put on another load of washing and gave the back sink a quick wipe around. She eventually got back to putting the clean clothes away, and picking up the cups and glasses she had left in the hall, she made it to the kitchen to put them in the dishwasher.
An hour passed in much the same fashion and Natasha could feel the time marching on, matching her heart rate, quickly pulsing by like a countdown clock on fast forward. She deftly moved from one room to the next sweeping brush in hand one minute, damp cloth and rubber gloves the next, until she heard a soft snuffling noise coming from the bedroom and knew that her time for action was up.
Her ears were tuned in to that noise, which would have been inaudible to anyone else in the house, but Natasha knew what it meant and that she had just enough time to dump a load of wet washing into the tumble dryer and get upstairs, when sure enough, within thirty seconds the soft snuffling had turned into a broken cry, a sound which Natasha knew would increase by degrees the longer the baby was left in his cot.
Her ears were tuned in to that noise, which would have been inaudible to anyone else in the house, but Natasha knew what it meant and that she had just enough time to dump a load of wet washing into the tumble dryer and get upstairs, when sure enough, within thirty seconds the soft snuffling had turned into a broken cry, a sound which Natasha knew would increase by degrees the longer the baby was left in his cot.
Natasha went into her bedroom, reached into the cot and lifting the baby up she breathed in Michael’s delicious smell of talcum powder and newness and felt the warmth of his little body as she spoke to him gently, feeling the softness of his skin as the crown of his head touched her cheek she soothed him with her quiet words, while instinctively rocking her body back and fore. As soon as he was picked up Michael stopped crying, safe and secure in his mother’s arms. Natasha felt content with her son resting against her body and she enjoyed the moment of tranquillity that his being in her arms again brought her.
As she walked out of the bedroom and downstairs with Michael, she could see what still needed to be done, she hadn’t had a chance to tidy the jumble of shoes by the front door and the pot plants really need to be watered. She was reminded of the saying about housework taking the time you have available, plus half an hour, how true! She had cleaned and mopped, polished, straightened, emptied bins and wiped surfaces. In the sitting room the flames danced in the gas fire and gave the room a warm amber glow. She looked around at her work, while all the time rocking back from one foot to the other to comfort her son. She was reasonably happy with what she saw, but her body tensed and she could feel a growing knot in her stomach as she saw the time, 4pm, they would be here soon. The tea things weren’t laid out, she hadn’t managed to make that cake she wanted to bake and where on earth was her husband? He had promised to be back early from work, she panicked at the thought of having to entertain her visitors without him, novice breastfeeding while trying to pour tea did not appeal!
Natasha really wanted this visit to go well, she wanted to show her husband’s parents that she was a good wife and now a good mother too. Family life was nothing like work. Work was a place where Natasha and her BlackBerry could solve anything, no spreadsheet was too complex, no meeting too difficult, Natasha took it all in her stride. But home life was a different story, Natasha felt like she was in an alien environment with Steve’s family. She hadn’t seen his parents for months, as they lived so far apart, and so even though she was a grown woman of 38 and had been married for eight years, she still felt as nervous as when she first met them. Where was her husband! “Okay, get a grip”, Natasha thought to herself, “you can do this, they will be delighted to see the baby, you are a good mother”.
She changed Michael’s nappy, checked the clock again, felt her blood pressure rise at the impending visit, wished there was an escape route for her, but knew there was no backing out now. She was just settling down to feed him when Steve came rushing through the door, “Sorry I’m late, work was horrible”, and he bent down to give her a kiss on the cheek and to say hello to Michael. But before he could say anything else Natasha was giving him a list of instructions, “can you get the teapot out, with the cups and saucers with the little roses on and the matching milk jug out, which is in the cupboard on the right hand side of the kettle, put them all on a nice tray (not the one with the cracked handle) and I didn’t have time to bake that cake that I wanted to do, so could you please put some kitkats and what have you on a little plate and get the kettle on, they will be here any minute Steve!!!! “ “Okay Tasha, don’t panic, take a deep breath, it will all be fine, mum and dad aren’t coming for the tea, they’re coming to see the baby!” Natasha sucked in her breath really hard and resisted the urge to shout at him, that she knew they weren’t coming for the blooming tea. Thankfully Michael’s rhythmic sucking calmed her and she resigned to the fact that there was nothing she could do.
Steve clunked about with cups and saucers and came back and fore for clarification on her orders and just as Michael had finished his feed Natasha heard a car pull up outside followed by the clunk clunk of two car doors and she knew that the in-laws had arrived. With sixty seconds to go, Natasha popped Michael in his moses basket, buttoned her blouse, looked in the mirror to straighten her hair and with a quick swipe of lipstick to steady her, she was at the front door all smiles and hellos; the perfect wife and mother.
With their arms full of packages and parcels Steve's parents entered the house. Their eyes lit up as they saw Michael, and Steve’s mum went into raptures over how much he looked like Steve at that age. As they sat down to a cup of tea, Natasha noticed that Steve had picked out the wrong cups, she said the ones with pink roses, not blue poppies! Biting back her criticism, she poured out the tea and offered round the freshly baked Carrot Cake, which Steve’s mum had expertly prepared, (along with the homemade chocolate truffles and fruit loaf which were through in the kitchen beside two jars of Steve’s mum’s Tomato Chutney, which she thought might come in handy). Navigating the mass of hydrangeas and roses, which Steve’s mum had bought from her garden, which were now in a vase on the coffee table, alongside the little lucky money pot plant she had also taken for baby Michael, Natasha passed over some snaps of Michael which had been taken just when he came out of hospital. “My, how he has grown already” said Steve’s mum, “it is amazing what you miss when you don’t see them regularly. I remember when Steven was little...” and she went off into a family tale which had Steve chuckling away while Natasha smiled, none-the-wiser, and became lost in stories about the Bakewells and the Petersons whom she didn’t know.
When the conversation came to a lull, Natasha passed Michael over to Steve’s mother for her to hold him for the first time. She saw the look of absolute devotion which spread across her mother-in-laws face as soon as she held him, the way her mouth softened and her eyes became moist. “Well the wait has been worth it hasn’t it Natasha, what a beautiful baby you have”, she said. Natasha nodded and smiled her agreement and as she looked on at Michael with his Grandma cooing softly over him, she felt the tender beginnings of a bond between herself and her mother-in-law at last.
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