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Meetings are held on the first and third Tuesdays of the month at Dancox House Club Room, St Clements Gardens, St Johns, Worcester from 7.30 pm to 9.30pm.
If you want to know more about Worcester Writers' Circle, please telephone Sue Round, Secretary 01905 619062.
Probably the oldest writers' circle in the country, we have grown from half a dozen enthusiasts in the dark days of the Second World War, to a thriving and productive group of people who share their experiences, successes and pitfalls at each meeting. We have a wide range of writers, some published professionals, some occasionally appearing in magazines, and many newcomers eager to see their name in print.
At a normal meeting, we read from our work, sometimes on a theme set for the evening and we offer advice and reactions. A cup of tea and a chat of course, and discussions about markets, successes and rejections. Sometimes we have a speaker from amongst our ranks, or a guestjoining us for the evening. Our interests are wide - stories, Westerns, nostalgia, poetry, biography, roofing and cats have all featured at our meetings. If you can get to Worcester, (that's the one in Worcestershire, England) give us a try.
The Waiting Room
by Jane Waller
Tabitha pulled over to the side of the road. This was ridiculous. She could hardly see the road ahead for the thickly falling flakes of snow. She was beginning to think that the scooter wasn't going to make it to Little Heyworth. Damn. She had intended that it would be so perfect. Her and Martin's first Christmas Eve in their own home. Well, his home. But she was sharing it now. What if Martin's parents were just down the road? It was nice that Martin wanted to move back to the middle of nowhere to be near them. And if all her friends lived in London, well, they could come and visit, couldn't they? Anyway, Martin had plenty of friends. He always seemed to be out since she moved in and he was bound to introduce her to them properly soon.
The snow was, if anything, falling more heavily now. She must have been mad. But the Fratchester shop finally had Martin's Hornby train in stock. The Duchess of Mardan was nestled securely at her feet. The only problem was going to be getting her home.
Suddenly, Tabitha caught sight of lights ahead. Had they been there just now? Tabitha wracked her brain unsuccessfully for any villages between Fratchester and Little Heyworth. Yet there were lights… Yes! A station. How strange! Well, she was new to the area. Maybe she'd taken a wrong turn.
The station had the feel of one of those steam railways Martin had liked them both to visit every weekend last summer. It was amazing how much more attractive and right such a place looked on a Christmas Eve and – how Christmas-sy! – the station master was even wearing a Victorian outfit.
'A train to Little Heywood? Fifteen minutes,' he beamed. Thank goodness! Tabitha locked up the scooter and, carrying The Duchess lovingly in both hands, picked her way over the snowy platform to the waiting room. And then she stopped. Although a fire was blazing away, Tabitha felt that she had never seen anyone look as cold as the little boy huddled in the corner.
'Hello!' she trilled over-cheerfully to compensate for his expression of desolation and misery. The pinched face stared back at her. Martin's pink, rather beefy features leapt into her mind as contrast. She'd better ring him, let someone know where she was. As usual, there was no reply. Where did Martin go? Tabitha thought for a moment then dialled another number. 'Colin? Is that you? It's Tabitha. The snow's got too heavy for me to continue on the scooter. No, I'm fine. No, I don't need you to pick me up. There's a train in ten minutes. Where from? Oh, I don't know.' Tabitha smiled at the boy. 'What station is this?' The boy stared back.
'Charlton Ledbury.'
'Thanks. Charlton Ledbury apparently. I must go. My battery's about to die. Let Martin know. Bye.' And Tabitha hung up, missing completely Colin's exclamation of horror. 'That was my friend, Colin,' she explained to the lost soul beside her. 'Well, actually, my ex Colin. He's staying at the village inn. I think he still has a bit of crush on me. Why would he be here otherwise? We only split up about nine months ago. This thing with Martin, well, it's a bit of whirlwind. A rebound. No, no, I don't mean that. Colin and I split up for very good reasons. We had a row and…' Tabitha couldn't actually remember what those good reasons were now. Looking back, they all seemed rather insignificant. Why had she split up with Colin? And why was she rattling on in this way? Probably because she hadn't had anyone to listen to her since she moved here. Plus, the boy was now watching her avidly, seemingly desperate for this human contact. Tabitha didn't think she'd ever felt so sorry for anyone in her life. 'Look, are you okay?'
'If you die here, will you stay with me?' asked the boy. 'I'm so lonely.' Tabitha blinked. Surely, she had heard him wrong? He was still staring at her. 'Will you stay if you die?' he asked insistently. 'My life was so short and I've been waiting here so long. They promised they'd bring me back my Christmas presents if I stayed here and I did. I wanted a train. They promised me a train. I've been here for so many years and they haven't come. No one has until you. I'm so cold even the fire can't warm me anymore.' He reached out a hand and put it into the fire. The flames leapt through it. Tabitha watched in horror as the flames began to lick their way up the child's body. He shivered, freezing in their midst and began to step towards Tabitha. He didn't seem menacing, just lost, a lost soul. Tabitha felt the door handle behind her. She could be out of there in a few seconds.
But, no, it wasn't right. Nobody should be so lonely, especially not at Christmas.
I'm lonely too, thought Tabitha suddenly. And he's right. Life is too short to wait forever for something that is never going to happen. She let go of the door handle.
'What's your name?'
The boy stopped. The fire surrounding him seemed to splutter a little. 'Freddie. Freddie Banning.'
'Freddie.' She held out her hands. The bones that gripped them back were almost devoid of flesh and alight with fire but Tabitha felt only a cold, cold hand in hers. 'You poor darling.' She took him in her arms. The small boy began to weep, a torrent of tears that flooded over the flames and seemed to wash them away. 'It's alright.' She pulled him down on the bench beside her. 'See. Look, here's your train. You haven't been forgotten.' Freddie grasped The Duchess of Mardan in wonder.
A gust of wind blew the door open and the whole waiting room, the station itself seemed to creak and sigh with relief. As Tabitha watched the boy touching the train's metalwork, tracing the name, moving the wheels, Freddie began to disappear, fading before her eyes to a wisp of nothing. And then Tabitha began to feel the cold herself. Where was the fire? Where, for that matter, was the waiting room? Tabitha stared in consternation at the deserted and wrecked railway, lit up only by the snow reflecting in the moonlight - and the lights from Colin's car.
'Tabitha! I was so worried. I couldn't understand what you were on about. There's no station at Charlton Ledbury. Well, not since 1872 when it burned to the ground.'
Tabitha stared up at Colin. 'Was a boy hurt?'
'Yes,' said Colin. 'How did you know? A boy and the station master were killed. My landlord was only telling me the story this evening. Apparently the fire was started deliberately by the boy's guardians. Sometimes the locals claim to see the lights and hear the steam trains still running.'
Tabitha shivered. At least, the boy was safe now. 'Come on,' said Colin, 'Let's get you home. You're freezing.'
Tabitha stood very still. 'I'm not going home, Colin. We're going back to the inn. We need to talk.'
Copyright © 2005 Jane Waller