Snippets into a Shattered Life by Amy Williamson

 

Hi all! 

This is my first post here. I wasn't sure what to put initially until I remembered a few snippets I wrote during a workshop at the Literature Festival recently. The workshop focused on setting, and how setting can build the atmosphere of your scenes. This is in three parts - and gets a little dark. 

The front room was dark when Suzie got home. That wasn't surprising, but she was shocked to see full bottles of ale on the side table. So, Jim hadn't come home yet. If he had, those bottles would be empty. rolling on the floor abandoned. She took off her bag and set to work on dinner. Focused on chopping the vegetables, she jumped when the door suddenly shook with a loud banging. 

"Damnit Suzie! You better open this door!" Thomas's voice resounded through the door and filled the small home. The landlord was impatient. His fist brayed on the door, the wood creaking under his fist. "Jim drank the rent money again and ran off. You better give me somethin'!"

Suzie stepped back from the chopping board, swallowing her panic. With shaky hands, she looked through Jim's things, hoping for a couple of bob he had missed - anything. There were a few letters on thick paper, but no money. In the end, she grabbed the wedding silver. it was just a few forks they never used, but it would buy a few days, maybe a week.

The silver lasted a week, and then she made her weekly trip to the brewery. She handed in Jim's used ale bottles for a good few shillings. Thomas had put aside a few coins so she could buy bread and cheese from his corner shop. It wasn't much, but without Jim's dock money coming in, it was all she could get.

Now, she was getting ready to go to bed, tired from her day. On the way up the stairs, she stopped at the sound coming from the doorway. A key was fumbling in the lock, an uncoordinated hand missing the keyhole with every try.

Eventually, Jim entered the home with a crash and a stumble. The wall was holding him up and he needed to take a breath before he shut the door. "Suzie? Where are you?"

"I'm here," she said softly, coming down the stairs to take his coat. 

He reached out expectantly, frowning to see her hand empty. "No drink for your old man? What kind of wife are you?" His voice was slurred already.

Suzie backed away slowly, "I sold your old bottles to the brewery, but what didn't go on rent had to go on food. I could only get some cheese an' bread..." She hated how quiet her voice was, how guilty it sounded.

"The rent? Ain't that my job?" he grumbled, "What you trying to say? I don't provide for you? I'm not good enough for you?" His face was growing redder, his voice getting louder. It made Suzie's knees shake, but she was glad he couldn't see it under her skirts.

"It's not that! The landlord..."

"You useless slag - You're lucky I let you stay here at all. You could be in the workhouse with that snivelling bastard of yours!" Jim balled his fists and started forward.

"You know he's yours!" she cried, trying to prove her loyalty.

"Are you answering back? To me?" he screamed, taking off his belt.

Suzie shook the snow off her shoes as she took off her hat. She switched her wet shawl for a dry one she'd hung over the fireplace. The daguerreotype on the mantel stared at her, proof that she had smiled once. Jim stood at her side, posing for an image that her family had paid for.

She passed his empty ale bottles on the way to the coal bucket. There were only a few lumps left, but she added one to the stove anyway. Before she added the meat to the stewpot, she pressed the raw meat against her cheek, hoping it would stop the worst of the swelling. Bruises she could hide with Izzie's theatre paints. She couldn't do anything about the swelling though. All she could do was add the arsenic to his gin and pray the bastard drank it.