Earlier this year, his moving short story, "Abigail", was featured in the Evening Post.  In case you missed it in the newspaper, here's the story for you to enjoy.

(By the way, if you have any poems, pictures, or other works of art that you would like to see on the website, please send them to Dave Hobson at the Settlement, email daveh@bartonhillsettlement.org.uk).  

It was nearly three months and counting since Abigail had last been in the garden. Ill health had confined her tiny frame to the solitude of her bedroom.

Despite being ill, she retained all of her charm and her light. Her humour and courage surprised all who came to visit her.

Abigail’s room was as a six year old’s room should be; full of stuffed toys, dollies, and little angel stencils on the walls and tiny stars on the ceiling. Everything that she needed and wanted was within her reach and if it wasn’t, mummy was never far away.

Today it all was different. Today she was in the garden enjoying the freedom and celebrating all of the senses she possessed.

Jenny stood at the window overlooking the garden; it was a bright sunny day, the kind of day that the weatherman could not have predicted. The rays of sunlight touched all that lived in the garden. The flowers danced about gently, the slightest of breezes brushed past their delicate petals. The pansies that Abigail and her daddy had planted blushed with the same colours painted by the rainbow that seemed to arc over the garden.

At the bottom of the garden was the old oak tree. When the family moved in, this tree was going to be removed but it looked like it was protecting the garden, its branches reached out like hands, so it was decided that it would stay. It was Abigail’s favourite part of the garden.

On one branch was the swing that was put up for her last summer.

Jenny watched, her gaze fixed in a stare. She watched the swing rock gently back and forth. Abigail sat on the swing. Her small hands held tight the ropes that supported her as she swayed gently.

Her blonde ringlets caught the sun as they bobbed with the motion. She was being careful not to fall off. She wore her favourite party dress and didn’t want to get it dirty, too soon after putting it on.

Abigail looked well, there didn’t seem to be a trace of her illness, her cheeks now were rosy and her features no longer seemed gaunt. It was as if she had never been ill at all.

Watching her daughter made Jenny smile.  Having to watch her only child suffer was something that she could not see past; she didn’t think she could ever smile again.  But at this moment it was all okay.  

Knowing that Abigail could once again enjoy herself and enjoy the garden she loved so much, was enough for now to put the past worries behind her.

As the sun moved its position, it came through the window and illuminated the wall to her left.  The light shone on one photo of Abigail, the one that was taken on her sixth birthday just before she fell ill. She wore the dress she was so fond of and was wearing today. Jenny looked at the picture and then looked back at her daughter in the garden. Some small birds had come and perched on the bird table near to Abigail. She climbed down from the swing and made her way to the table; the birds did not move or fly away as she got nearer.

Jenny could here her laughing and talking to the birds and as they eventually flew off Abigail, waved to them.

Alan called to Jenny.

“It's time love, they’re here”.

She looked down the hallway of their old Victorian house towards the front door. “OK love, give me a minute", she replied.

As she turned to look at Alan, she noticed how dark the room had become.

The sun no longer lit the wall of pictures, and the room was now cold.

She looked towards him, he stood motionless at the front door, the long hallway seemed miles away. The old features of the house seemed to loom towards her and she felt she would explode with the tension she was remembering she had. At the front door stood a man she knew but didn’t acknowledge. Over his shoulder she saw the road and parked by the front gate was the car. There amongst the flowers and teddy bears was the small white coffin.

Jenny caught her breath and turned away, back to her scene in the garden. Abigail was still playing and laughing to herself.

She longed to be part of the scene before her, that wasn’t to be. She started to sob, as her tired eyes adjusted to the brightness of the garden. Abigail looked at her and then she smiled, waved and blew a kiss and then disappeared.