Five Stories

Charlie used to be the singer in a band. She felt beautiful then. I’m told she had a wonderful voice, alternative folk and rhythm and blues, and could render a fine version of Joan Armatrading's Love and Affection.

But that was a long time ago, before she met Ken. Before endless years of controlling, contempt and manipulation. Before constant criticism and belittling, frequently aimed at her Black heritage. Before she provided him with three children, kept an immaculate household, cooked and washed and tidied. But it was never enough, she was never good enough. He refused to marry her; she was not worth the effort or the expense.

Then came breast cancer, and a double mastectomy. Ken declined to visit her in hospital, lost any residual interest in their sex life and blatantly started an affair in work.

Charlie tried to leave him, several times, but kept on being drawn back, feeling unworthy to live on her own. Alcohol, usually vodka, dulled the pain.

Finally, with encouragement from her many good friends, she moved out and rented her own place. Her sense of self began, slowly, to flourish. She rediscovered her passion for Liverpool Football Club, and her fascination with the parallel universes in Michael Moorcock's science fiction novels. Life was better, especially now her granddaughter Tammy was on the scene. Charlie had a purpose again, a reason for living.

But not for long.

The cancer comes roaring back, now with secondaries in her spine and liver. Vodka helps dull this pain too, but only for a while. Her vulnerabilities resurface, and she takes an overdose of venlafaxine and co-codamol. Her son is furious with her, and stops all contact with Tammy.

Then the COVID-19 pandemic strikes. Charlie is living alone and at high risk of infection, so has to self-isolate completely for weeks on end.

The fear and loneliness become too much for her. She takes another overdose, and keeps on drinking. She reaches out to her son in the hope of a few seconds conversation with Tammy, but her call is blocked.

Frances looks immaculate. She is polite and understated. She is always on time for her appointments with me and never seeks to extend them beyond the allotted 10 or 15 minutes.