Ink Wounds

23 January

Dear Granny Squeak,

Your advice was very helpful. I am enjoying the new class, so thanks. I’ve also recently started therapy. My guidance counsellor recommended it. He said it would help me gain an understanding of myself. I’ve had a few sessions already and am looking forward to the next.

I feel like I can tell you anything. You always give great advice. Not like mum. She doesn’t care at all. Dad said she will kill herself from the drinking one day. Last time I saw her she was passed out with an empty bottle of vodka next to her. It made me very sad.

My room-mate is always trying to encourage me to drink. I don’t like him. He doesn’t wash properly and he stinks. You can’t choose your room-mate for the first year though, so I think I am stuck with him. I will make the best of it though. My therapist is helping me to become more positive. It is working. I like being positive. I’m much happier this way.

I hope you are looking after yourself.

Yours,

Jamie

2 February

Dear Jamie,

You write so well! I hear that your generation never writes these days; everything is completed for you with just a few swishes of your keypad. You are proving the naysayers wrong. The English classes you are undertaking have certainly imbued you with confidence.

You are handling your mother’s condition with admirable aplomb. It is devastating to see someone succumb to the bottle; people turn to it when they feel they have nothing else. There has been a time in my darker days when I have felt that way too, but luckily I have never taken that route. I hope she gets the help she needs. I think of her a lot, and wish I could do something to make a difference, but I’m not sure I can be of much use in my condition. You mustn’t feel the burden is on you; your father is there with her.

I thought about something you said to me recently. You can’t control other people. You can only control your reactions to them. You are a very wise young man. I have spent my life being frustrated at other people’s behaviour. They never hit the standards I expected. Of course, I realise now that my standards were far too high; I told myself they had to be high, to protect myself. But it made me withdrawn and sad. The recent event has made me realise that you have to grab life by the horns.

I have a habit of cocooning myself away from hurt, but I am learning to show more vulnerability. I am finding this correspondence with you quite cathartic. I struggled to recover from the pain my husband caused when he announced he was leaving - and he was so casual about it, like he was asking me if I wanted anything from the shop. The old bint next door, Mrs. Maundsley, was insufferable. Far from showing empathy - or even sympathy - she seemed to take a perverse pleasure in my loneliness. She always fancied Frank, I’m sure of it. She thought I wasn’t worthy of him.

Forgive me, for I must leave you now; a rather dishy young Asian man has appeared at my door, and it would be rude to leave him waiting.

Yours,

Granny Squeak

11 February

Dear Granny Squeak

You mention your husband a lot. Do you think you will ever get over it? You can’t change past, only the future. Maybe you will meet a nice man and get married again. I hope that happens for you. You deserve to find someone.

I’m sorry about Mrs. Maundsley. I know people like that too. I always try to ignore them. That’s what we were told at school, and it has stuck with me. Like my room-mate Tony. I just ignore him, although it’s hard because he smells so bad.

I spoke to dad yesterday. He said that mum is doing a little better. I told him that my therapist had suggested she go to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. He got angry at that idea. Said it was for losers, and that no-one in his family was a loser.

It was my therapist who told me about controlling my reactions to other people. I had never thought of it before. Therapy has really helped. We have started doing something called the origin story. It’s where I tell her about my childhood, and she relates that to things I do or feel now. You should try therapy. It might help you with some of your problems.

She says I started hanging out with the wrong crew because my parents weren’t around very much, and this crew were like a family. She said they gave me the security I was missing. I’m not quite sure that’s true, as I didn’t always feel very safe.

How is the heart?

Yours,

Jamie

16 February

Dear Jamie,

I felt so joyous yesterday. My son came to visit, with my grandchildren. Fleur sat on the bed with me and asked me to read to her. She’s so smart for a five-year old. And Stephen - oh so serious Stephen! - told me all about his football team, how many goals he’d scored, and the teams he played against. It was all a bit lost on me, though. Perhaps you could educate me on the minutiae of the sport? It may seem simple to you, but I don’t even know how many players are on a team, or what they do. I imagine you have a good grasp of it; forgive me if that is not the case.

Writing down my emotions is helping me work through my issues around my husband. I can’t thank you enough for reading it. Perhaps therapy would help too, but it’s not something people of my generation did. I always saw having therapy as signifying that one had failed in some way, that they couldn’t work things out themselves. I suspect that I am completely wrong, and it would be highly beneficial, as you suggest. I’ll ask Dr. Raj when he does his rounds again.

The good doctor tells me that my arrhythmia is getting worse. My heart is beating too quickly, apparently, and the medicine they are giving me is not working. It’s been a while since the last cardiac arrest, and I was supposed to be out of here weeks ago. I don’t like hospitals. I’ve only ever experienced pain in them, both mental and physical. I spent a lot of time in hospitals with my sister. I saw what her illness did to her, how it robbed her of her dignity, how it gnawed away at her soul until she was a mere shadow of herself.

Dr. Raj says that won’t happen to me as I have a medical disorder, not an illness. He says the heart attack damaged the heart muscle, which interferes with the electrical signals, in turn causing abnormal rhythms.

I’m remaining optimistic. It’s what I do now.

Yours,

Granny Squeak

23 February

Dear Granny Squeak,

I like the fact that you felt happy when your grandchildren came to visit. I want you to feel more like that. Like is for living and being happy. You only get one life, and it’s never too late. You should never give up on happiness.

I played football for my school team. I was a striker too. I scored lots of goals, like your grandson. I’ve written some basics of football on another piece of paper. I’ve even drawn a diagram to explain the offside rule. That’s the one everyone struggles with.

I told my therapist about your heart condition and the burglary that caused it. She said it must have been a huge shock to wake up and find two men in your house robbing you. She said that some people never get over these things. I told her that you had got over it, and that coming so close to death had given you a renewed outlook on life. I hope Dr. Raj finds some new medicine that works.

Dad expects me to join the family business when I leave here. I don’t want to, but I don’t know how to tell him. I guess I’ve got another two years to figure out how to break the news, but he keeps talking about it so I feel I should tell him now.

Can you give me some advice on what I should say?

Yours,

Jamie

17 March

Dear Jamie,

I must apologise for the delay with this letter. I will explain shortly. But firstly, a big thank you. My grandchildren visited again, and your excellent football lesson made me look like an expert - Stephen was so impressed! He especially liked your diagram of the offside rule.

You need to tell your father the truth. That crime doesn’t pay. The crew you hung around with were a bad influence on you. They got you into some dangerous situations, and that’s why you didn’t feel physically safe. The security your therapist talks about is of the emotional type, where you felt you belonged somewhere. And that’s why you stuck with them.

With an alcoholic mother and a father who has spent more years in prison than out, you never had the greatest start in life. You must tell him that you don’t want to spend your life in and out of prison. That the sentence you are currently serving is having the desired outcome - once you leave, you never want to return. Tell him about the positive effect education is having on you. Not everyone gets a second chance, but at least you are wise enough to take it. When you come out, you will have skills and qualifications that will enable you to find a real job. It may not pay as much, but it will be more secure, and more satisfying.

Now, about me. The reason I have not written in a while is that I have suffered another heart attack, albeit a minor one. None of the medication has worked in regulating my heartbeat. Dr. Raj oversaw a procedure called catheter ablation, where he inserted a small tube in me to deliver electrical signals to combat the arrhythmia. But that isn’t working either. I think I may have to undergo heart surgery. The idea of it terrifies me, but I trust the doctor. he is going to let me know in the next couple of days.

Cross your fingers for me.

Yours,

Granny Squeak

20 March

Dear Granny Squeak,

I am so, so sorry. Please let me know what happens. Thank you for your advice. I have not spoken to dad yet, but I know what I am going to say. I’ve started learning woodwork and my teacher says I have a real skill for it. Says I’ve picked it up really quickly. He says that I could earn a good living as a joiner, so I’m going to work towards that. That’s what I will tell dad.

My therapist is helping me work through the guilt of my crime. She says that while I must take responsibility for my actions, my upbringing had a large part to play. Sometimes it is very hard to escape what you know. All I knew from a young age was crime. Dad would bring home the latest games console, or a new TV. He’d tell me not to ask where he got it. I used to shoplift with my friends, for snacks and beer. I thought it was normal.

I don’t like hurting people though. When Leroy told me to take a bat for defence, I didn’t want to. He threatened to beat me with the bat if I didn’t take it, so I did. He was older and bigger than me. He chose where we were going. I followed, like a sheep. I don’t like being a sheep any more. Following the wrong people can get you into trouble.

He said he had scoped out the place and was sure it was empty. There was no car outside, and he hadn’t seen anyone come in or out of the house in the days he’d been watching the homes on that street. So that’s the one he chose. We weren’t expecting to find anyone. But he said to take the bats, just in case.

When we found the jewellery box, Leroy was clumsy and knocked an ornament over in his excitement. I was frightened of what would happen next, and my heart was pounding. And that’s when you woke, and came through and saw us. But it was worse for you. You saw two men in black clothes and balaclavas, holding baseball bats, in the dark. No wonder you had a heart attack.

Leroy panicked, grabbed the jewellery, and ran. But I stayed with you. I called the ambulance, and turned myself in. That doesn’t excuse my behaviour, or what I did to you. I can’t take it back. I wish I could. I so wish I could. Because of who my dad is, my sentence was longer than normal. That’s what my lawyer said. But I see it as a chance to right my wrongs, leave the old me behind.

Your operation will go fine. It has to. When I am out of here, I want to put things right. I can make things for you. Anything you want.

I am crossing fingers on both hands.

Yours,

Jamie

20 April

Dear Jamie,

The operation happened three days after I wrote to you, before I received your letter. Dr. Raj said that it was a textbook procedure and that my arrhythmia has been fixed. So all’s well that ends well. I have a fully functioning heart again! I’m a little tired, but recovering well.

After it happened, I was angry. Furious that you and Leroy invaded my sacred space, and thought you could just help yourself to whatever you wanted. But I reflected on the situation and realised that I was not in a good way. I hadn’t left the house or spoken to anyone in months. I ignored my family and friends, refused to answer calls.

I told you when we first started writing to each other that you mustn’t feel guilty. The brush with death made me acutely aware of my own mortality, and I want to live again, and enjoy the rest of my life. The doctor says I have many years ahead of me, and I am inclined to believe him.

You and I had different upbringings. I had all the advantages in life - money, education, status. You had none. I was lucky, you were not. You showed your real character in staying with me and calling the ambulance, which saved my life. If you hadn’t gone with Leroy, someone else would have - and perhaps both would have run off, leaving me there to die.

I’m expecting to be out of here in a week’s time. Prepare yourself for a visit. Granny Squeak will be in the building.

Yours,

Margaret