Inkerman Writers
a showcase of our work
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Secrets
Teddy Taylor pulled his sleeves down over his bruises and hung his coat on his peg. He made his way into his classroom and sat on the carpet as everyone did at the start of the day. His teacher, Mrs. Hetherington, took her place at the front of the class and took the register. When she said “Good morning Teddy”, he was supposed to say “Good morning Mrs. Hetherington” but he didn’t, he never did. He wouldn’t. Teddy never said a word, not at school. He could talk perfectly well, but he didn’t; never in school.
Teddy Taylor had secrets. His mum and her boyfriend Dave went to the pub nearly every night and left him on his own. When Dave was drunk or angry he would kick and punch Teddy, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. Sometimes they forgot to give him any tea, or breakfast, or both. There were other things too that Teddy wouldn’t even let himself remember.
Teddy didn’t know that these things were secrets until his mum told him so. She said that he mustn’t tell, because Dave would just get angry again and things would get worse for Teddy. She said that he would be taken away from her and made to live with strangers.
Teddy had heard all about strangers.
So he had stopped talking, at least away from home. That way he couldn’t tell.
Teddy listened to his teacher’s instructions and then got on with his work. He liked school, it was safe and he could do the work. It was quite easy and often interesting. He wanted to talk in school, he really did. He knew it would make his teacher happy, but he just didn’t dare.
At ten o’clock, Pippa poked her head around the door. She was there for him. It was Thursday.
“Teddy, Pippa’s here for you” said Mrs. Hetherington.
Teddy stood up and followed Pippa to the staffroom. Teddy wasn’t sure what Pippa wanted
him for but she came to work with him every week. On the way to the staffroom Pippa did her usual thing.
“What do you call a gorilla with bananas in his ears?” she said today.
Teddy shrugged and shook his head.
“Anything you like, he can’t hear you!”
Teddy snorted a laugh. Pippa never seemed to run out of good jokes.
They reached the staffroom and Teddy saw what Pippa had brought for him. She always had toys and games and pictures. She was lovely, nicer than anyone else in Teddy’s life, even nicer than Mrs Hetherington, but he didn’t dare speak, even to her. He felt like if he opened his mouth the secrets would come pouring out, out of his control, like the tears sometimes. Dave didn’t like tears. They got Teddy a good kicking.
Today Pippa had Pop up Pirate and asked Teddy which colour sword he would like. Teddy silently pointed to his choices, then smiled when the pirate popped up.
Pippa had pictures of children looking happy and sad and surprised an all sorts of things. She asked Teddy how he thought they were feeling and what made him feel the same way. He had so many answers trapped inside of him he thought he might explode.
Next Pippa gave him some Playmobile people and other bits and pieces and left him to play on his own. Teddy nearly got stuck in and just played, but the door was open. He had to be careful.
Pippa came in after a while. She said, very quietly, in the way that Pippa always talks, “Teddy, would it be ok if I came to see you at home next time? I think it might be a good idea if I see you at home with your mum and Dave. Would that be alright?”
Teddy felt sick and his stomach started to hurt. He put his head in his hands. He tried to think of Pippa at his house, where the bad stuff happened. It wasn’t right. She didn’t belong there. He didn’t want her to be in the same room as Dave and his mum. It was all wrong.
He started to shake as he got down off his chair and stood very close to Pippa. The tears started to pour down his cheeks as he took her hand. Pippa hugged him tight to her and said
“Teddy, sweetheart, what is it? What’s the matter?”
Teddy pressed his hot, wet face up against her ear and whispered
“Can you keep a secret?”
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About
DfC
The Inkerman Writers are members of Darlington for Culture (DfC), which was set up in 2010 to help save Darlington Arts Centre from closure.
Its members include representatives of arts and community groups.
DfC was established after the centre’s owner, Darlington Borough Council, announced that budget cuts meant that it would have to withdraw its subsidy from the Arts Centre.
Although the centre closed, the organisation remains active - more at www.darlingtonforculture.org
Publications
Welcome to the site created by the Inkerman Writers to showcase our work.
Based in Darlington, North East England, and having celebrated their tenth anniversary in 2013, members have enjoyed success in a variety of arenas, including winning, and being shortlisted and highly commended, in short story competitions, having novels published and publishing the short story anthology A Strawberry in Winter, which can be obtained by visiting the website www.blurb.com
The group's second anthology of short stories, Christophe's Farewell and Other Stories, can be obtained, cost £4.95 plus postage and packing, from
The Inkerman Writers’ latest book, Out of the Shadows, which was launched as part of the 2013 Darlington Arts Festival, is on sale. The book can be ordered direct from
http://www.blurb.co.uk/b/4204019-out-of-the-shadows
The group also produced The Last Waltz, a double CD of short stories, available by contacting deangriss@btinternet.com, cost £5 plus p and p.
Several of our writers wrote original one-act plays in a collaboration with the Green Theatre company, which were performed at Darlington Arts Centre early in February, 2012.
Darlington-based Inkerman Writers have produced their latest anthology of short stories, Inkerman Street, based on the demolition of a fictional northern street and the stories of the people who lived in it.
The book, which features a variety of stories ranging from horror to comedy, was launched to a large audience at the Darlington Arts Festival Literary Day on Saturday May 26 and begins like this:
“Inkerman Street is still and graveyard-hushed tonight, the terraced houses cold behind boarded-up windows, silent sentinels among a sea of wasteland. No one lives here now and tomorrow the bulldozers will move in to flatten the houses to make way for the Council’s Grand Plan.
“Although the people are long gone, the houses still have life. Peek into one of the bedrooms and see on the wall a painting of a seaside scene, brightly-coloured boats bobbing in the harbour, fishermen pipe-smoking in the noonday sun and seagulls wheeling high above the choppy waters. In the roaring silence of the night, you can hear the screeching of the birds and taste the salt air, acrid and herring-sharp at the back of your throat. It is an illusion; the bedroom is empty and the blooms on the faded wallpaper have long since wilted.
“The air in the houses is musty with neglect yet but a few months before, these were bustling homes filled with frying bacon and steaming irons, whistling kettles and playing children. The houses witnessed all these scenes for more than 150 years. Behind their curtains were enacted a thousand stories but tomorrow they will be destroyed because Inkerman Street is the last of its ilk.
“Now, on the eve of the street’s death, the people who once lived here have returned, gathering solemn and silent in the mist, the ghosts of the past come to pay final tribute….”
The anthology can be purchased at http://www.blurb.co.uk/bookstore/invited/7524452/bae89c993c98ec8c8b37b12d6b9b37ecced5dec3
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