A Legacy From Mary

A Legacy From Mary, a thriller by Eddie Gubbins

Ken Flood vowed he would never again have anything to do with Commander Sturgess or help his brother as he had done before. Then his friend, collaborator on research and a few times lover Mary is killed in a car crash. His research assistant is killed in a mugging or so it appears. Helping her parents clear her flat of her academic work suspicion grows in his mind that her death was not accidental. He realises the connection of the two events is a country called Mengmbwi. Mary has been there to run short courses and Joshua is Mengambwian. When he tells his brother Norman of his suspicions, he is drawn back into the murky world Commander Sturgess inhabits. Once more his life is in danger and he gets the feeling he is being manipulated like a puppet. 

Following are the first few pages of A Legacy From Mary

Chapter 1

" And so my country is in crisis," the speaker said to the listeners sitting on the rows of sloping benches in the lecture theatre.

  They were silent, their attention focused on the speaker as he came to the final passionate ending to his lecture. The eyes of the thirty odd people in the room hardly noticed the drab concrete pillars, the grey painted steel beams criss crossing the ceiling or the dusty curtains over the windows. Through the floating dust particles in the beam of the slide projector, they had witnessed second hand the scenes of pollution and the poverty in Mengambi as the speaker flashed images onto the white screen. Mostly in stillness, they had sat through the talk of the evident contrast in the lives and the riches of those who had the power to the poverty all around of most of the people. The speaker had shown them in images on the screen, the  strutting  confidence of the army and the British style uniforms of the officers.  He pointed out the soldiers in their smart uniforms pushing people out of their way and mixing with the rich and powerful. This was the Mengambi he was trying to convince them was a reality. Not the propaganda put out by the Government of his country which appeared to show happy and prosperous people living in ideal conditions.. 

Now the audiences whole attention was on the speaker.  A hush filled the room as the speaker  paused to gather his final thoughts. The overhead light now focused on the speaker at the front of the lecture theatre as the projector was turned off. 

" The wealth brought to our country by the oil is shared between the leaders and the oil companies. Water flings itself at the sky in the arid north where they have set up a capital while my people cannot get clean water to drink. The roads in the north  are pathed and smooth while in the south they are pot holed and dangerous. The questions we have to ask ourselves are ' When are my country men to have justice, to have a fair share of the wealth of the country? When will my people be able to live without  fear of the knock on the door at night if they speak out against their injustice?  When will the corruption  which favours the few, end so that the many can live proper lives? ' "

" The answer to these questions is obvious to me and my fellow countrymen who oppose the Government. All the things  we crave will only come about, and proper democracy be put in place in Mengambi, with the help of the rest of the world. Therefore I would like to end my talk by appealing to you all to raise your voices against the gangsters who control my country, to protest to your government if they support the regime, to not co-operate if asked to participate in any activities which are controlled by the government or by the oil companies. Please, even if the money is attractive, stay at home. One day we will be free, we will all be able to participate in the running of our country and we will be able to say what we like without fear of being gunned down if somebody does not like what we have  said."

" Thank you all for coming and I hope I have at least opened your eyes to what is happening in my country."

The speaker smiled at the audience in acknowledgement of the applause from the lecture room as he gathered his papers together. Most of the people here, he thought wryly to himself, are on my side anyway but maybe they can help by spreading the word. The crowd in the room stood and stretched to ease aching muscles, speaking quietly to their neighbour before leaving for the bar as was traditional after meetings of the international affairs society.

Ken Flood, one of the speaker Joshua Bengsali's Ph.D supervisors, walked down the steps to the front from his seat in the lecture theatre and waited patiently for the few people who wanted to talk to speaker to have their say and  leave. When Joshua was alone, Ken shook his hand, smiling in greeting.

" Thanks Josh. You have given me something to think about even though from what we have talked about before, I was well aware of what was happening in Mengambi. What I can do to help as one individual, I have no idea at the moment but I expect I will think of something in due course. My problem is that Mengambwi is not a place I have ever had an offer of consultancy, so I can't refuse to go. That to me is the most powerful objection we academics can make. If we refuse to take students from your country, it would stop people like you coming to the U.K. to study. That is our problem which we have to overcome somehow."

" At the least you can tell everybody you meet what you heard from me tonight,"  Josh smiled back, as though sending light beaming into the gloomy room. " Some of your friends might listen to you even if they don't take any notice of what I say."

" Come on mate, lets go to the bar," Ken said, as Josh finished stuffing his papers and slides into a briefcase. " I'll buy you a drink before you go home. It will do us good to talk about Mengambwi, no matter how depressing, rather than your research for once. You never told me before tonight that your father had been jailed for criticising the regime. How does your family cope with him in jail and no money coming in?"

" They get some financial help from other Mengambwians who feel the same way they do about the government. There are some foreign charities who help as well so, in fact, they are not too badly off." Joshua replied as they walked out of the lecture hall. " Its my sister I feel sorry for and worry about. She is under house arrest because she protested outside the State Governor's house about my father. All she did was stand there with a placard but they said it was subversion. Like with my father, the judges are on the side of the government, hence her house arrest." 

The bar was crowded, noisy and smelt strongly of beer. They found a relatively quiet corner after negotiating the rather sticky floor. Soon after Josh and Ken arrived, they were joined by a number of their friends and colleagues soon forming a little discussion group. The conversation was at first of Mengambi and what Josh had told them but it soon drifted to research, lecturing and university gossip. 

On his way back from the bar with some drinks after they had been there a while, Ken almost bumped into two black men standing trying to hear what Joshua was saying. The two glared at Ken as he brushed by, making an obvious gesture of displeasure in the way they smoothed down their jackets as though Ken had creased the cloth. Both men were broad shouldered and big built as though they worked out in a gym to keep fit. One had a round face with big ears beside his tight curly hair. He showed large teeth when his mouth pulled back in a hard smile he aimed at Ken. The other was slimmer with a longer face, close together eyes, a small moustache and longer hair. His eyes did not smile but gazed at Ken in a blank unfriendly way. The two men were dressed in suits and ties which was rather out of place in the bar surrounded as they were by mostly students and lecturers dressed very casually.

After a few drinks, Joshua picked up his documents case and said goodnight to his friends and colleagues. As he turned to say goodnight to Ken, his eyes focused on something behind Ken's back. A look of fear which he  quickly tried to hide, crossed his face. As he was looking directly at Joshua ready to say goodbye, Ken could not miss that look of fear even though Joshua was quick to hide it. Curious, Ken turned his head and glance back over his shoulder. The two black men were standing right behind him looking directly at Joshua with narrowed cold eyes. A shiver of apprehension rolled down Ken’s spine.

" Who are those men?" Ken asked as he turned back to Joshua." I have never seen them in the University before."

" They look like Mengambians to me but I have not seen them before either. Talks like mine tend to attract many of my fellow countrymen who are living in third country and have nothing to do with the University. " Joshua said this with a guarded expression on his face.Seeing that look, Ken suspected Joshua knew the men or had at least seen them before. If Joshua wanted to ignore the men, Ken decided it was none of his business.

" Do you want me to give you a lift back to your house?" Ken asked impulsively. " It is not too far out of my way and it would save you walking home in the dark."

Joshua smiled but declined." No thank you Ken. I will walk. It is not very far and the fresh air will do me good. I usually like to have a little time on my own after giving a speech because it helps me clear my mind."

" Please yourself," Ken said with a shrug. " I expect I will see you sometime tomorrow."

" Yes about eleven after your lecture. You promised you would go over my last attempt at my analysis of the surveys I undertook," Joshua said.

" OK, eleven in the morning then." Ken waved as Joshua left. 

The two men who had been staring at Joshua had disappeared when Ken looked round the bar.  He joined a heated debate about whether it was right for students to have to pay some of their fees and forgot they had been there.

Outside the building where the lecture had been held, it was dark, and rather cold. In the spring air, flurries of drizzle blew on the wind and the pavement was wet and slippery. Joshua pulled up the collar of his coat as he left the relative warmth of the building, put one hand in his coat pocket, gripped the documents case tightly under the other arm and set out walking in the direction of his home. Close to the college, he passed quite a few people hurrying through the night to get inside and out of the drizzle. After a while he turned off the main road, entering a street with a park on one side and very few widely spaced street lights, making the pavement along which he was walking rather dark. In this street there were no passersby, just the occasional cat or night bird to keep him company.

Joshua was very familiar with this route, taking it as he did almost every day to get to the university from his room. As he walked, his thoughts strayed over the time he had been in Plymouth. It was now  two years and he had watched the seasons pass twice in that time. Winter so cold at first to him in contrast to what he had been used to in Mengambi though there had been hardly any snow. Then spring with its flowers and a hint, or so everybody told him, of the warmth of summer. The two spring times he had been in Plymouth had, to him, seemed still really cold. Summer had come and he had at last been a little warmer though it was only on a few days when it had felt like home. Finally autumn and the shock that it would soon be cold again. Tonight as he walked  with his collar pulled up round his ears to ward of the cold and damp, he next thought about his home land, about the images his talk had conjured in his mind. He reminded himself of his family so far away, wondering how his mother was faring without him to help now that he was in England and his father in jail. In his mind he could see his home, the few rooms crowded with his family, his mother, his brother and his three sisters. 

Once more he imagined the street outside his Port Claymore home, full of pot holes which ruined the cars which a few people had managed to obtain.  Down these streets there was running unclean water because the sewers were inadequate for the number of people using them. He remembered back to the struggle he had had as he tried to study in that house and the joy, not only for him but for all the street, when he had gained a scholarship to go to a better school. Because of his background and the advantages he had gained from his education, he had always thought he owed it to his parents, his brother and sisters to spread the word of what it was like to live in Mengambi. This is why, despite the seeming indifference of the vast majority of the British population, he continued to give his talks in the hope that something would spark a response.

As he walked past the park entrance lost in thought, he heard footsteps following him along the road but did not take any notice. The attack came unexpectedly as a man  rushed him from out of the gloom of the park gate and the footsteps which had been following were suddenly very close as they hurried towards him. For a moment Joshua thought that somebody was coming to help but this thought was quickly stifled. As he turned to face his attacker, Joshua felt the back of his legs hit with something hard, like a baseball bat. Turning quickly, he grabbed at his attacker but the pain exploded in his head as one of the men hit him on the forehead. Despite his efforts to stay upright, Joshua was falling towards the pavement as a red mist started to fill his eyes. Hitting the pavement hard which knocked the breath out of his body, Joshua tried to get out of the way but there were two of them and no matter which way he turned there was always one of them confronting him. He desperately tried to rise but each time he almost got to is knees one of the men pushed him to the ground once more. As loud has he could manage, he called out for help but there was only silence surrounding his struggle. All the time he struggled to rise, the men were hitting him, kicking him and pushing him around in the dirt.

Then  an overwhelming pain exploded in his chest and he could not breath. He was sinking into a dark hole with no light and try as he might he could not escape. All went dark as he lapsed into unconsciousness and the pain was gone.

Joshua's two attackers bent over the body, pulled out his wallet, scattering the papers over the road but putting the money in their pocket. They lifted his fingers and pulled off his rings. Finally they took his watch and his coat leaving him lying in a pool of blood as they disappeared down the road abandoning him to the mercy of the cold and damp.

Later that evening, he was found by a woman and man returning from the pub around the corner and they called for an ambulance. When he was examined in the hospital, he was dead.

A Legacy From Mary by Eddie Gubbins is available as a paperback from Amazon and www.createspace.com and as an ebook for downloading to e-readers from Amazon or Kindle.

Brotherly Love by Eddie Gubbins

Brotherly Love a thriller by Eddie Gubbins

This is a story about fear, of somebody out of his depth in a world made strange to him by events he could not fully comprehend. It is a novel about Ken Flood, living a mundane, steady life as an academic in Plymouth but is pulled by family loyalty along paths of experience which would be best left unexplored. Along the way there are chance encounters with people who through friendship are willing to help. Though scared to death, Ken somehow finds hidden depths behind his placid exterior and keeps going when to give up would be the easier option. The novel explores the conflicts which arise when an ordinary people is forced to choose between family loyalty and obligation to the wider public. Would you question what is being asked of you by a family member who you had always thought was honest or just help in any way you could? What happens if the activity you are being asked to undertake looks very dodgy, if not criminal? The problem is Ken's brother, who Ken now believes after some time on the run, appears to be on the other side. Are there sides in the game Ken is forced to play? Which side is good and which evil? Who are the buddies in black hats? It is soon obvious to Ken that there are no sides in this game  and friend and foe are not easily distinguished. The novel follows Ken's quest to answer these questions to its ultimate conclusion.

Ken Flood lives a quiet life with his wife and two daughters in Plymouth, working as a lecturer in the University. He minds his own business and is relatively happy with life. Until, that is, his brother Norman arrives unexpectedly one day asking for help. Norman puts forward a proposition to Ken but which appears to Ken to verge on an attempt pull him into the murky waters on the edges of crime. Ken has to decide quickly whether to help his brother out of brotherly love or let his brother face his unknown pursuers alone? Reluctantly Ken agrees to help and soon finds himself outside the law, being chased by people he does not know, trying to deliver a mysterious package given to him by his brother to a man he has never met in London.

Ken's decision to help his brother sends Ken into hiding pursued by people he does not know, unable to call anybody a friend, holding onto information his brother told him was important but which Ken had no idea of the contents.

Here are the opening pages of the novel:

Chapter I

" Will James Gordon please report to the Trans Air desk!"

The echoing sound of the loudspeaker cut into the hubbub of noise from the passengers milling around the concrete concourse of the airport. People paused in their hurried passage across the terminal and stood listening to the announcement. Most passengers continued on their way as soon as they were sure that it did not concern them.

" Will James Gordon just arrived on flight TA234 please report to the Trans Air desk! We have a message for him." The voice, although still pleasant, sounded more urgent.

The relatively tall, broad shouldered man emerging from the customs hall as the announcement was made could not be mistaken for anything else but an Englishman. He was wearing a well cut dark suit, very shiny shoes and old fashioned horn rimmed spectacles set squarely on his nose. Looking hard at the floor as though to make sure it was clean, the man placed his travelling bag carefully on the ground at his feet and took off the spectacles, rubbed them vigorously with a large yellow cloth, put them back precisely on the bridge of his nose and peered short sightedly round the passenger hall for the Trans Air desk. Smiling slightly when he had located the source of the announcement, he picked up his bag and walked slowly through the crowds to the desk.

" I'm James Gordon, " he said to the girl behind the desk, his clipped accent and soft spoken words out of place among the loud, brash American voices of the other people near him by the desk seeking information or asking questions. " You had me paged over the public address system."

" Yes Mr. Gordon, we sure did," the girl replied with one of those sunshine smiles that only receptionists in the United States are able to achieve, giving the impression like no other place on earth that service is a pleasure, the customers welfare their only concern." We have a caller waiting for you on the line in booth four, which is over there by the end of the desk. Just go to the booth, pick up the phone and I will connect you. If you have any trouble with the line, you come right back over here and I will try to put you through again."

Gordon smiled at the girl and walked the few yards to the phone booth. Picking up the receiver in booth four, he waved to the girl on the reception desk. There was a click, some static on the line and then the cheery voice of the girl said, " You are through."

" Gordon!" he grunted into the phone, looking over his shoulder at the people passing through the concourse as though to check whether he was being watched. Satisfied that nobody was paying undue attention to him, James Gordon turned his attention to the voice on the other end of the telephone line.

" Good," a voice replied gruffly in his ear. " You have been booked into the Washington Hilton for the night. Go there like any other businessman. There will be a car booked in your name waiting for you in the morning at the hotel; all you have to do is ask at the hotel desk for the key. While in the hotel, you are to give everybody you speak to the impression that you are off to the mid west in the morning to meet some clients. In the morning, you will drive off from the hotel in the direction of Saint Louis. Once you are quite sure you are not being followed, head for New York, leaving the car near the airport in the usual spot. One of our men will pick it up and deliver it to the hire people in St. Louis as though you had driven it there from Washington. Once in the airport, you are to book onto the next available flight to Vienna. Once in Vienna, we will contact you and give you the details of your mission. I need not belabour the point that you must make sure you are not followed or recognised. In this you are on your own." The phone clicked and went dead.

Replacing the receiver, Gordon waved to the girl at the desk and went out of the arrivals hall to get a taxi. He spent the evening in Washington alone, drinking at the hotel bar and telling everybody who would listen that he was off to the mid west, giving the impression that he was a salesman but being deliberately vague about what he was supposed to be selling.

After breakfast, he paid his bill, collected the car keys and found the car that was waiting outside. Driving leisurely west, he stopped several times for coffee until he was satisfied that he had not been followed. Once certain, he headed for New York.

Leaving the car in the designated car park, he went into a bar and emerged a few minutes later dressed in jeans and a duffel coat, minus the horn rimmed glasses, with a soft travelling bag in his hand. He booked onto the next flight to Vienna with spare seats and sat in the departure lounge reading a magazine until the flight was called.  

Arriving in Vienna, Gordon collected a parcel that was waiting for him at the flight desk, stowed this away in his bag and took a taxi to a hotel in a rather run down part of the city. The hotel was not the best in town, consisting of draughty corridors and even older furniture but it fitted the image of a thrifty British tourist lacking adequate funds, which Gordon wanted to foster.

Carefully locking the door after a detailed surveillance of the corridor outside, Gordon checked over the room and looked out of the window at the street before he unwrapped the parcel he had collected at the airport. Laying the contents on the bed, he examined the automatic pistol, several clips of ammunition and several sheets of closely typed paper. After reading the notes, he tore them into small pieces and flushed them down the toilet. Fixing the gun onto a clip on his belt, he lay on top of the bed fully clothed and went to sleep.

His alarm wristwatch woke him in the semi darkness of evening and hardly pausing to wake up, he swung his legs off the bed onto the rather threadbare carpet. Stretching the kinks out of his body, he smoothed his hair, brushed down his clothes and, placing his bag on the bed, went out into the night.

Standing in the shadows of a shop doorway opposite the hotel, he carefully surveyed the street before hailing a passing taxi. Once he had given the driver his instructions, Gordon settled back in the seat and watched the night slide by the window. The taxi dropped him in a busy street and he walked at normal walking pace passed the bars and shops, stopping every so often to look into a shop window. Other people strolled passed; taking no notice of another rather shabbily dressed man out for an evening stroll.

Coming to a side street dimly lit by infrequent lights, he paused in doorway to light a cigar and glance up and down the street. Certain that he had not been followed, he walked purposely down the alleyway to a block of flats and into the entrance. Ringing a bell, he waited until a voice came out of the speaker, spoke himself and pushed the door inwards at the sound of a click. He paused briefly inside to let his eyes become accustomed to the light, walked up the stairs and along a passage checking the numbers on the doors as he passed. Finding the right number, he pushed the bell.

" Hello Jenny," he said as the flat door opened, pushing his gun hard into the girls stomach." Don't call out or do anything stupid or I will have to hurt you. You must know I wouldn't hesitate." Jenny backed into the room, her eyes narrow and watchful, her hands in full view of Gordon.

" I'm sorry I had to imitate Jack's voice just now," Gordon continued when they were inside the room," but I had to get in here and see him without putting you on your guard. All you have to do is sit on the settee with me until he gets back."

They sat on the settee, Jenny glowering at him, Gordon relaxed and silent as the time slowly passed, their ears straining to hear the sound of the buzzer which would signify the return of Jack. The silence hung in the air and after a time it seemed that they had been sitting together forever but when the buzzer sounded, Jenny jumped with fright. Gordon was the first to the button to activate the front door motioning Jenny to remain seated. Putting the lights on low, he walked over to the door and put the lock on the catch.

" Any sound out of you when Jack comes through the door and I will be forced to shoot," he said quietly to Jenny as he waited, tense and ready, behind and to the side of Jenny so that he could cover her and the door.

The door swung slowly open to reveal two men, one large and heavy, the other smaller and more athletic. The smaller of the two reacted instantly on seeing Gordon, his hand diving under his coat as he moved to the side but there was a plop and he slumped back against the wall, a red stain seeping through the cloth of his sleeve.

" Don't move!" Gordon growled to the other man, who obeyed by freezing into stillness, his hand only part way to his shoulder." Take the gun out slowly and throw it into the corner." The gun thudded onto the carpet to the right of Gordon but he did not take his eyes off the man in the doorway." Good boy. Now pull your friend inside and shut the door so that anybody passing cannot see into the room. We don't want innocent bystanders interfering do we?"

When he had propped his companion against the wall just inside the door, Jack looked at Gordon with naked hatred in his eyes." What shall I do with Joe?" he asked, looking down at the blood soaking the sleeve of his friend's suit.

" Christ Jack get a cloth and try to stem the blood before he bleeds to death!" Jenny cried, jumping up from the settee but sinking back when Gordon moved the gun in her direction with a glare that would have shrivelled a normal man.

" Jenny you are going to tie Jack up," Gordon ordered in a quiet tone, ignoring her look." Jack you sit on the floor near Joe and make her task easier."

Once Jack was securely bound to his satisfaction, Gordon produced two pairs of handcuffs from his coat pocket, placed one of these round an ankle and the other a wrist of Jenny and then secured her to the leg of a table. In this position, Jenny could just about reach Joe but when she tried, Gordon kicked her hand away.

Pulling up a chair, Gordon sat close to Joe and smiled crookedly at the three on the floor." Right!" Gordon said briskly." We will sit here and watch Joe bleed until you tell me where the package I came to collect is hidden." Gordon let his voice trail into silence, a silence punctuated by Joe's gasps and whimpers of pain." Well'?'

" You bastard!" Jack shouted but sank back as Gordon fired into the wall at his elbow.

" After Joe lapses into unconsciousness, I will have to start on Jenny," Gordon remarked, his voice calm and certain. He did not smile now but sat in the chair moving Joe's injured arm with his foot, causing Joe to cry out at the pain.

" It's taped behind the drawer of the desk in the corner over there," Jenny gasped pointing to a piece of furniture which had seen better days while her eyes pleaded for Jack to forgive her. Jack glared back at her but did not say anything.

Gordon pulled the drawer right out of the desk, scattering the contents across the floor as he turned it upside down. The package was taped to the rear just as Jenny had indicated. Smiling to himself, Gordon pulled the package from the back of the drawer, ripped off the tape which had been holding it in place and opened the top, spreading the items it contained onto the surface of the desk before examining closely each item in turn. Accepting Jenny's strangled affirmative when he asked if this was all there was, he replaced the items in the package, put it into his pocket and went to the door.

Turning to face them with his hand on the door handle, he smiled faintly and said in a quiet voice. " If I were you Jack, I would phone your boss rather than the local police because you may have difficulty explaining what you were doing in their country armed and undercover with a bleeding man on the floor of your flat."

Shutting the door quietly behind him, Gordon went out into the street, walking slowly back the way he had come as though he was an English tourist out for a stroll.

Brotherly Love available as a paperback from Amazon and www.createspace.com. For downloading as an ebook from kindle, amazon and www.smashwords.com

Running After Maria by Eddie Gubbins

Running After Maria by Eddie Gubbins

James Ashleigh lives the perfect life. Plenty of money, plenty of women and plenty of drink. Carefree, he is not tied to one place. He sails from port to port as a ships officer. Then he meets Maria in Finland and his life changes. Tied now to one woman no longer playing the game as his friend calls the chatting up of women. 

This novel charts the progress of those changes and the twisting path of James' life.

This is the opening lines of my tragic romantic novel, Running After Maria.

Chapter 1

Henri and I walked through the rest of the summer of my troubles, hand in hand, Helen, Alice and all the others forgotten. Close together, our hands clasped, we strolled along golden beaches by the sea to the sound of waves breaking and the screech of sea gulls. At other times we walked across fields and through the woods of England's green and pleasant land. The warmth of the air and the brightness of the sunshine, for that is how I remember that summer, resulting in warm sunny days and clear warm nights, making our senses tingle and the blood run excitedly through our veins. We lunched whenever we could in some isolated thatched country pub by tinkling streams or village greens. Sometimes we picnicked by the sea ignoring any other people by becoming enclosed in our world. For me, time appeared to stand still or to go very slowly as we focused all our attention on enjoying each others company.

Henri’s mother and father welcomed me into their house, shyly at first but soon with quiet  confidence. Without any fuss, Henri came home with me to meet my mother who soon  relaxed in her company. The soothing influence of Henri enabled me to relax and I had visited the library at the  college where I was studying. This was something I had not done since starting the course of study for my Master’s Certificate in the spring of that year. Often during those days, I would return home with an arm load of books to find Henri waiting for me, sitting talking to my mother in the kitchen of my mother’s house. 

When we were alone together, we seemed to be talking all the time but I cannot now remember what we talked about. Under the calming impact of Henri and the approving gaze of my mother, my studies progressed to the point where I had reached the place  in the syllabus I should have reached by the end of term, weeks before. At that point, Henri and I had even more time for each other because I left my books on the shelves in my room ready for the start of the next term. Thus the summer passed and I hardly thought anymore about Maria and Karl.

Running After Maria by Eddie Gubbins is available as an ebook through Kindle and as a paperback through Amazon. It is also available as a paperback from www.createspace.com.

EddieGubbins: Education

EddieGubbins: Education: I get angry when listening to the debate on education. It is too simple to blame the schools for the failure of the pupils....

Education

I get angry when listening to the debate on education. It is too simple to blame the schools for the failure of the pupils. Education is a co=operation between the schools, the teachers and the parents. In the present debate the role of the parents appears to be ignored. I know a few men who boat that they have never read a book in their life.  There are others who always claim that school is boring. If there are no books in a house and children never see their parents reading how can the children be helped to see the benefits from a good education. 

In my novel An Ordinary Life this question is discussed.

Jane got very angry. Not angry with Tom but angry with the education system. At the beginning of the school term Jane had been asked to become a volunteer parent. Whenever she was available, she agreed  to help the teachers supervise pupils when they left the school for out of school activities.

That afternoon she had helped Paul’s teacher take his class to the local church where the pupils were trying to trace the local history. This was now the subject of her wrath.

“ Mary is not going to that school!” It was the first time for ages that Tom had heard her so emphatic about something. “ There is nothing we can do about Mark but Mary is definitely not going to that school!”

Taken aback by her anger, Tom asked mildly, “ What happened this afternoon to bring this on?”

“ Tom you would not believe it,” Jane almost spluttered. “ All the boys joined in with various degrees of enthusiasm. I know there are always keen ones who want to learn  and others who follow along for a quiet life. But many of the girls sat at the back discussing boys, make up and going out. They had no intention of learning anything. When I asked them what they hoped to achieve by sitting there they gave me such a mouthful. They want nothing more than to get through school and then get a job. Tom it was dreadful.”

“ It cannot have been that bad surely. What about all the teachers?”

“ Tom, the teachers were only interested in two things. Those pupils who showed some interest and look as though they want to learn get all the attention. The teachers will go out of their way to help them. All the other pupils they just want to keep quiet. If those pupils sink beneath the academic waves, too bad.”

“ But Jane surely Mary will be one of the ones who will want to learn? Paul is doing OK and according to his teachers will do well when it comes to his A Levels. Mark is even more intelligent and will be OK. Why are you so worried about Mary?”

“ Paul and Mark are not only academic but are reasonably good at sports. They will both fit in no matter what the peer pressure. Mary will find it very difficult to resist the peer pressure if she goes to that school. Believe me. I was there today.”

“ What are you suggesting?”

“ There is only one answer as far as I am concerned. That is to send Mary to the Girls Grammar.”

“ But that is a private school and we both believe in State education. You must know how I feel about the question of paying for education.”

Jane put her arm round his shoulders. “ Tom, I know how you feel about private education. You must know that I have never been quite so closed to the idea of paying for education as you have. Lets face it. We have the money. A great many of our friends have made great sacrifices to send their children to private schools since the abolition of the Grammar Schools. It would not be a such a sacrifice for us.”

Tom frowned. Angrily he retorted. “ What you are asking is for me to compromise all the principles and living philosophy I have believed for most of my life. I never thought I would hear you advocating that we send one of our children to a private school.”

“ Tom, please don’t get angry with me. I have thought of nothing else but what we can do about Mary since coming home. It is not as though I do not know how you feel. I know what your principles are. You were not there.”

“ If you know how I feel, why do you ask me to think about this?”

“ If it was only a matter of principle, I would not ask. It is all very well you standing on your high horse and arguing for state education when it is theoretical. This is not theory, Tom. This is not some academic discussion like those you have in the staff common room at lunch time. This is your daughter’s education and subsequently her chances in life. Do you want her to slip below the standards we expect because of the girls she has to mix with?”

“ That is a very arrogant remark. All girls going to Paul’s school are not working class without ambition. They do send some girls to university surely?”

“ I must admit there are some but not as many as the boys.”

Tom looked lost and beaten. “ What do we have to do?”

Jane smiled. “ I phoned Sarah when I got home and she filled me in with the drill. Mary would have to take the entrance examination in two years time.  Sarah reckons we should find a private tutor who helps children get through the entrance exams. It is so competitive that most children who do not have a tutor fail.”

“ This is something I have never thought about. How do we find a good tutor?”

“ I will ask at work though most of the people I work with have children at university or babies.’

“ I’ll do the same.”

Tom lay in bed that night unable to sleep. He could feel Jane by his side breathing evenly, her body warm. It brought no comfort. Tom lay there far from sleep confronting the chance that he would have to overturn his principles. It had always been a pillar of his beliefs that education should be provided by the state and all children should be treated equally. Many a time at university he had argued long into the night with some privileged public school educated friend that their parents buying of privilege was wrong both morally and socially. Morally because in some cases it deprived the country of very intelligent and resourceful citizens because their education was lacking. Not only did private schools give education to the rich but they employed many of the best teachers. This was a handicap to those aspiring pupils from disadvantaged backgrounds. Oh, he had to admit that there was still a great deal of prejudice among the working class about education. He remembered Pat from all those years ago down in the recreation ground telling him that she had passed her eleven plus only for her dad to tell her that she was not going to grammar school. She was to leave school as soon as possible and get a job to bring money into the house. But surely, he told himself, things have changed for the better. It is the nineteen eighties and women are far more prominent in society. Even though he could not stand her or for the privilege she stood for, he had to admit that Mrs. Thatcher was a good example for women everywhere.

On the other hand, he knew from the experience of talking to people that this attitude still applied in many working peoples’ households. He had been occupied all his life to make the chance of a good education open to all. In this he was a big supporter of the comprehensive system. If we can only get every child in this country to reach their potential through education and training, he had often told people, this would be such a vibrant country. It had been hard work and there was still a great deal of nepotism from the so called upper classes.

Now all his beliefs were being questioned on the altar of convenience. He smiled to himself. Since that time in the Jack of Diamonds when you met Mr. Hunt, your life has been a compromise, he had to admit. If you can ignore the implications of what you are doing as a non executive director for Hunt Enterprises, surely you can compromise your principles for the sake of your wife and daughter? And then there is the other part of your life which you do not question. Edward is very good at his job, you say, never questioning the methods by which he produced such good returns on your investments. No, all of that is legitimate and does not involve my principles. On the other hand, sending my daughter to a private school goes against everything I have ever argued for.

The second edition of An Ordinary Life by Edmund Gubbins has been published by Createspace as a paperback.
It is available for purchase from www.createspace.com, www.amazon.co.uk, www.amazon.com as a paperback.
As an ebook for downloading from www.amazon.co.uk, www.smashwords.com, www.amazon.com.

Nicola Sturgeon and the British election

What is Nicola Sturgeon doing taking part in the election debates? She is not putting up as a candidate for Westminster and should have no place to play in the debates. The SNP representative on the panel should be one of the candidates standing in the election. It is obvious that she does not care for the UK but is only interested in Scotland.She is like a child. Give in to her on one thing and she demands more. She wants the earth. Having lost the referendum on Scottish independence, she now wants to bring it in by the back door.
Mark Brookes, the hero of my novel A Ceremony of Innocence is like that in that he takes any opportunity regardless of the consequences. In the sequel Innocence Exploded he finds out the consequences of his life style.
Both novels available from Amazon and for down loading as ebooks from Kindle and www.smashwords.com

Sunday programme on Radio 4

I thought this programme content was a completely inappropriate for Easter Sunday morning. Though we might have sympathy for the Armenians to spend the whole programme on the Turkish genocide was not what the time should have been about.
Easter Sunday is all about the Resurrection and Gods love. The programme should have been about what the various Christian leaders had to say about Easter Sunday. There could have been the views of other religions.
It is a poor show from the BBC!