Hawksnest

K. Hersey-Walker A.

Description

This is an account of a family that lost everything--home, jobs and people--but they worked hard to rebuild their lives and discovered that true happiness and contentment doesn't rely solely on finances and material possessions.

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 30 juin 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528959667
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Hawksnest
A. K. Hersey-Walker
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-06-30
Hawksnest About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgements Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48
About the Author
The author, now in her early sixties, lives in semi-retirement with her husband of forty-three years. She also has her cherished horses, dogs and cats. Her two sons and their families all live close by and they are all still a very close and loving family.
Dedication
For Paul, my husband, who has lived the adventure of life with me and is my greatest supporter.
Copyright Information ©
A. K. Hersey-Walker (2020)
The right of A. K. Hersey-Walker to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528910798 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528959667 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers
Ltd 25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgements
For my boys, thank you for all the joy and laughter over the years—and the understanding—which has given me the inspiration to write this book.
Chapter 1
As they stepped through the glass doors for the second time that drizzly, cold day, Sarah was still trying to make sense of their situation. Standing there on the pavement, the drizzle had started to turn to rain and as it hit her face, it helped jog her back into the reality which was their lives.
“Jumped up flaming jobsworth,” Alex was muttering to no one in particular. “Who the hell does he think he is? What gives him the right to play with other people’s lives?”
Alex was right, of course; the young man was playing with other people’s lives—their lives. There was a point during the ‘informal chat’ with the assistant manager that Sarah had really believed Alex was about to reach across the huge semi-circular desk and grab hold of the man and shake him. And now, getting soaking wet on the pavement, she was relieved that her normally placid husband had resisted that urge.
The big glass doors were continually opening and closing automatically to allow other bank customers to enter and leave, and Sarah wondered if any of these people had received the sort of news that they had just got. Had anyone else been told by some—to quote her husband—‘jumped up flaming jobsworth’—that they were about to lose their home?
That was in the winter of 1985 and by the time the late summer of 1986 rolled around, their precious cottage in the country had been sold to a middle-aged couple who went on and on about all the changes they were going to make to their home! Many months later, Sarah and Alex learnt that this same enthusiastic couple had decided to get divorced so ‘their’ home was put back on the market. They both hated the fact that even the second time around, they would never be able to afford to buy it back. It hurt both of them much more than they admitted to each other.
As for the two boys, they loved the adventure of travelling across England in the family’s beat up old Range Rover, which towed the little caravan behind it. Whenever they parked on various campsites and set up the caravan for the night, it was incredibly cramped with the four of them and the two Pyrenean Mountain Dogs which made up the canine side of their family. But the boys loved such adventure and that fact alone made their parents’ heartache more bearable. Neither Sarah nor Alex ever allowed their boys to see how angry and upset they were—and guilty, especially guilty about not being able to provide a roof over their children’s heads. It wasn’t their fault, either. Alex hadn’t asked to lose his job; it hadn’t been his fault that the company he worked for had to cut down on staff as well as materials. It seemed to him that loyalty meant nothing after fifteen
years, because he lost his job anyway and that’s when the bank started taking an interest in the investment they had made with the mortgage they had provided them. Initially, the bank had been content with interest payments, but they gradually started writing strong letters to the couple, stating that such payments weren’t enough. Then, six months later, here they all were, driving from county to county, desperately seeking a new home.
Whilst still living in their cottage, the council had offered them a flat on a nearby housing estate—a huge housing estate spilling over from South London and into Kent. Though they said they would consider their offer, they both already knew that there was no way that they were ever going to accept such a proposition. This estate had already gained an unenviable reputation and was thriving with teenage gangs, various crimes and drug users. To bring their children up in such a place was, to them, unthinkable. Instead, they had decided that with the few thousand pounds they had managed to glean from the forced sale of their beloved property, they would try and find a suitable piece of land and live off it. Have their own smallholding—a small farm. The idea had occurred to them because Alex had been helping out on a farm nearby and the elderly owner had taken a real shine to him. This was understandable, as Alex was a workaholic and would just keep going. His family would call him the Duracell Bunny: wind him up let him go and he will keep going on and on until the batteries run out!
Alex learnt almost everything there was to know about raising cattle. He would even use Sarah’s horse, Craven, to help round up the old man’s vast herd. Sitting high up in his saddle, Alex looked every inch the cowboy and their oldest boy, Daniel, would say that his dad looked like John Wayne. Quite a compliment really, as the Duke was always one of Alex’s idols! And to Daniel, who was just seven years old at that time, and his little brother, Jamie, their dad was their hero. Yet Alex felt very guilty; he felt he had let his sons down and that feeling ate him up.
Leaving Craven in the care of the elderly farmer—which was small reward for all the work Alex had done for him—they set off one bright sunny day in late August. They didn’t know if they were looking for something which actually existed or not, but at least they had to try.
Cornwall was their first port of call. With its rough, sweeping and mostly untamed terrain, they were sure that they would be entranced and bewildered by its austere, romantic beauty and would vow never to leave its spell. They travelled the length and breadth of Cornwall, avoiding all of the major towns unless they had to visit the estate agents for details of lands available.
They both fell deeply in love with the county and its people. However, the few parcels of land which were for sale just weren’t suitable for a young family such as theirs. One particular piece was perfect on paper, but when they finally found it down unmade mud tracks, as beautiful as it was, it was set on the very edge of a deep reservoir. In fact, there was no indication of when the track ended and the water started! Had they arrived there in the dark, who knows what would
have happened! A watery end to the Anderson family and nothing to prove that they ever existed!
Next, they travelled to Devon and found very little there that they could afford. The next stop was Hampshire and the glorious New Forest, but the story was much the same. Both the boys loved the New Forest, so they decided to stay on the site for a few days more, to give themselves a well-earned break. Funds were starting to dwindle a little, and although they had put the major monies away, their ‘finding a new home’ fund was disappearing faster than they had anticipated.
But their children were having fun and didn’t seem at all fazed when it was explained to them that none of them were ever going to be able to ‘go home’. Daniel’s reaction to this news was simple; “Well,” he said, whilst fiddling with the bell on his bicycle, “why don’t we just ask the lady and man who are there now to go back to where they live and then we can go home?” Alex, clearly unsettled by his little boy’s simple logic, tried his best to explain that the people now owned their house so they had no other home to go to. “Oh!” replied their little boy. “Well, in that case, if the lady and man don’t have a home, then I suppose it’s okay if they want to use ours and we’ll just have to find another home, won’t we, Daddy?”
“Course we will, boy,” his tearful father told his oldest son, “course we will, and we will make it the best home ever.”
Daniel’s shout of “Hurray!” was muffled by Alex’s gentle kiss on his son’s cheek and the big man pulled Daniel towards him and hugged him for what seemed an age. Jamie, at just three years old, had no real understanding of what was going on and just seemed to pick up on his big brother’s emotions most of the time. Then, two gorgeous little boys—wearing bin bags over their coats to keep them dry in the gentle rain—resumed their game of pretending to be cowboys on their bicycles and continued looking for the w