Sheryl's Last Stand

alked around to the back, pulled the wheelchair out of the boot, un

rge. 'Why do you insis

pened th

driver, there are only

Beatrice to slid

a wave and jolted the chair into first gear. The chair, not sufficiently warmed up, jolted, spluttered, then moved forward. Beatrice rammed it i

ven, not even looking up

at morning, and not one looked up. Not one was surprised as she crashed by in her wheelchair,

hed her chair through the staff room door and put the kettle on. 'Two years ago, I was a vegetable, ' she muttered. 'Couldn't even wipe my own a

stroke, and she was proud of what she had achieve

RMAL?' yell

red somethin

ch arm of the chair. Steven watched the liquid move with the motion of t

nk she ran a tight ship and that poor old Steven would be lost without her. She berated the young mothers for making too much noise, and did her best to scare off any children she considered "badly behaved". She dealt

r, who was the trained librarian and had the final say. He spent his time placating customers not used to Beatrice'

a gun slinging redhead, just like Sheryl. He pictured his heroine standing behind some bar, wrapped in taffeta and lace,

*

minton room, practising her hips circles, the motion f

d think about gettin' a costume. Come see m

re ten big round bums covered in brightly-coloured coin bel

*

n, and then began to write a list. Frances walked in and placed a 'Beat the Pros at Poker' book

drain outsi

owan outside

slates ne

wet

ng machin

bedroom window;

Sheryl?' as

Beatrice, busy

hink she need

is what s

ur place, and she still looks as mis

k she knew what was best for her daughter; p

s the chance to turn down the advances of another man, ' she would say, and Mr. Rugby was nothing if not persis