Broken Places Read Online Free PDF

like to read it for us this time?’ Another risk, since Hannah had a speech-impediment, as part of her cerebral palsy. But it gave her enormous pleasure to read aloud and have people actually listen – something unknown in her daily life. And, anyway, since everyone had copies of the poem, they could follow it for themselves, even if they couldn’t quite decipher her distorted words.
    In the brief silence after she’d finished, Sue cleared her throat, shuffled her feet, and suddenly said in an embarrassed tone, ‘I wish I’d known about that poem all the time I was in Springfield. I’m sure it would have been a comfort.’
    All eyes turned to her. Sue had not contributed a word, as yet, to any conversation or discussion, nor revealed a single fact about herself, yet here she was admitting to a stay in the local psychiatric hospital.
    ‘And the other poem even more so. I mean, just to realize it’s OK to feel such huge despair. You say Hopkins was a priest, yet he still comes very close to losing hope.’
    All at once, several people started talking – Rita chipping in about her own spell in a mental ward; Graham remarking that religion couldn’t always help and sometimes made things worse; Barry letting out that his shrink had been worse than useless and they had almost come to blows.
    Eric watched as Warren, with his ear-stud and tattoos, leaned across to comfort Rita, in her tweeds and sensible shoes. It gave him a sense of achievement that this disparate group were confiding in each other; beginning to forge bonds. On paper, it shouldn’t work – too big a difference inbackground, age and social class, yet they were actually sharing secrets, opening up, finding confidence to express opinions, when, at the start, they’d been tongue-tied, wary, highly nervous and mutually suspicious. Meeting in this small upstairs room, away from the main library, was definitely a plus-point , in that it afforded privacy to speak one’s mind, and encouraged a certain intimacy, since they were all sitting round the table, like one big family – not a happy family, perhaps, but at least communicating.
    He could do with some help, of course; needed to recruit a volunteer, to assist him once the project took off. And he was determined that it should succeed. He was aiming for higher numbers altogether; wanted more men in the group and more from ethnic minorities. And he planned to invite a poet along, to talk to them about producing their own poetry, and maybe set up a separate Creative Writing group, as well as develop his new idea of music therapy.
    It would all take more funds, of course – funds they didn’t have – demand energy on his part, but just give him time and he’d damned well make it work.

chapter three
    ‘I thought we said six,’ Stella tapped her watch in disapproval. ‘I was just about to give you up.’
    Eric plonked himself down on the faded red-plush banquette. ‘Sorry, really sorry. Trevor kept me – I just couldn’t get away.’
    ‘What did he want?’
    ‘Well, to tell the truth, he gave me a bit of a bollocking – you know, how I mustn’t let my ideals run away with me. And how my attitude to Harriet leaves a lot to be desired. Well, what about her attitude to me ?’
    ‘Poor Eric! Let me buy you a drink.’
    ‘No, I’ll buy you one. It’s the least I can do, after keeping you waiting.’
    He fought his way to the bar, annoyed that all his earlier elation should have been punctured like a balloon. This afternoon he’d been flying high, ready to let go of any controlling string, so that he could soar up to the stratosphere, yet now he’d been reduced to a few shrivelled scraps of rubber. And the season didn’t help. Just eighteen days to go till the Big Day of hype and hypocrisy, and every shop and restaurant and public place was trumpeting the fact full-force; this pub no exception. Normally, he loved the Dog and Duck; a cosy refuge within minutes of the library; what he didn’t like