7 Heartbreak In Heaton Valley-Bedtime With Stephanie Poppins

When Ava Smith is offered a job in Market Heaton, she feels lucky for the opportunity to escape from her sad past, and Jack Riley, the man she never intends to see again. But to her dismay, Heaton Valley is not quite as removed from the outside world as she is led to believe it is.

In this episode, disturbing gossip reaches the ears of Mrs Manley's knitting club.

Keywords associated with Stephanie's tracks: storytelling author original reading writing compelling narration passionate English voice English accent story chapters soothing relaxing sleep rest deep rest classic literature anxiety calm

Original story written and performed by Stephanie Poppins

Transcript

Hello and welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,

Your go-to romantic podcast that guarantees you an entertaining transition into a great night's sleep.

Come with me as we immerse ourselves in a romantic journey,

Set in Market Heaton,

A beautiful little town nestled in the heart of Heaton Valley in the County of Lincolnshire.

Here we will meet Ava Smith,

A young woman with a troubled past who isn't aware the one thing that can save her is the one thing she's trying so hard to avoid.

But before we begin,

Let's take a moment to focus on where we are now.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

That's it.

Now close your eyes and feel yourself sink deeper into the support beneath you.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Happy listening.

Heartbreak at Heaton Valley.

Written and performed by Stephanie Poppins.

Have you ever noticed things never seem to happen when you're waiting for them?

And yet,

When you least expect it,

The most amazing things come along to remind you just how wonderful life really is.

Episode 7 Ava Smith took in a deep breath and shuffled from wooden board to wooden board,

To wooden board.

Her eyes grew tight.

Her shoulders squeezed into her ears.

She'd scarcely been in this attic since they moved in and was feeling no more comfortable than the first time.

But needs must.

It wasn't the darkness that disturbed her.

On the contrary,

She liked the dark.

It was the grubbiness of it all.

Ava hated the dust and she hated the cobwebs because cobwebs meant spiders and spiders meant lack of control.

If you'd been on top of things,

It would have been cleaner.

Ava hated herself for slacking.

Hadn't she taken great comfort in keeping things neat since Jessica died?

It was her salvation,

She thought.

Her coping mechanism.

And it applied to every aspect of her life.

From the house she lived in to her own personal appearance.

There was a certain beauty to be found in order.

That was why she'd chosen to study architecture.

What couldn't speak couldn't lie.

And there was a reassuring truth in a good set of strong foundations and a solid roof.

At least that's what she believed before she met Jack Riley.

Just three more boards to go.

She crept forward meekly,

Taking her time.

There was no rush.

Daisy was still having fun on her sleepover.

And this was Sunday after all.

At last she reached the other side,

Cobweb free.

And there was her box of treasure sitting alone where she'd left it.

She tugged it from its sleepy corner and dragged it back to the ladder.

Then,

Lowering herself down,

She took it to her bedroom for a closer look.

Most of Jessica's belongings were at their mother's house.

But this box was different.

It was the one only the twins shared.

The one they'd made a pact to hide from their mother when they were little.

In this box they hid their shared letters and their silver pendants with matching halves.

In it hid their doodles,

Pressed flowers,

Photographs and Jessica's Girl Scouts badge that she'd sewn on Ava's uniform instead of her own.

Because her sister deserved it,

She said.

Just like her to do that.

And there,

Underneath it all,

Was what Ava was looking for.

Jessica's old mobile phone.

She passed it from palm to palm,

Desperate to reconnect with the past.

How excited Jessica had been when she first got it.

But how fast technology changed.

Where was its charger?

Ava didn't have one that would fit this phone.

She dashed down the stairs and out into the lane.

Mrs Lawson was nothing if not a hoarder.

She'd have one.

Through the swinging gate she went and up the adjacent footpath.

But wait.

Was she even in?

It didn't look like it.

The long curtains were closed and the house asleep.

Perhaps she was out at the back,

Painting.

Ava rang the doorbell just in case,

And all at once the door flew open.

Jane,

She began.

Sorry to bother you,

Oni.

Then she stopped mid-sentence.

Peering back at her through short-sighted eyes,

Mrs Lawson looked far from the rose-tinted spectacle Ava expected to find.

She was downright furious at the intrusion,

In fact.

Her brow was crinkled and her lips drawn into a thin,

Straight line.

What was wrong?

Are you okay,

Jane?

She queried.

But the lady's expression remained unchanged.

Oni,

You look a little pale.

This was very odd.

Mrs Lawson was known for her moods,

Mrs Lawson was known for her moods,

But she usually swung between calmly content to extremely excited.

Not happy-go-lucky to full-on psychotic.

And as for her clothes,

This was the first time Ava had ever seen her in black.

She usually wore anything from cool cerise to vivid violet.

Perhaps someone died.

As well as can be expected,

Dear,

Mrs Lawson replied unexpectedly.

Her voice was that of a stranger.

But they had always gotten on so well,

Hadn't they?

What was going on?

Was it something she'd done?

Thought Ava.

Maybe Daisy had said something she shouldn't have.

I'll come back if it's not a good time,

She replied awkwardly.

Then without warning,

Mrs Lawson slammed the door shut without another word.

Ava shook her head.

She never did understand others as well as she thought she did.

Then she pulled herself together and walked away,

Indignant at the rudeness of it all.

There was an out-so-strange-as-folk her grandmother used to say.

And as it happened,

She was right.

But now what was she going to do?

She had to see what was on that phone.

It had been so long.

Would it still be there?

It had to be,

Didn't it?

Messages didn't just disappear.

With any luck,

She'd open it up to see all the evidence against Jack Riley she could possibly need.

But where would she get a charger?

She could drive to the Sunday market.

Yes,

That was it.

And that way,

She could pick up Daisy afterwards.

Problem solved.

Mrs Manley sat comfortably in pride of place,

Holding her audience in the palm of her hands.

Manley's knitting circle had reached the grand total of 15 ladies today,

Each one there for the gossip as much as for the wool.

But wait,

Here was someone new.

Another lady come to swell the ranks still further.

Welcome to Natty Knitters,

Mrs Manley declared as the gathering made themselves at home.

It's lovely to meet you.

Mrs Craffin,

The stranger replied.

Lovely to meet you all.

I've just moved in from Lincoln and I saw your poster.

She held out a swollen hand,

Its fingers thick with an arrangement of bright gold rings,

One with a love heart and another with a thick gold sovereign.

Take a seat,

Love.

We don't stand on parade here,

Said Mrs Manley warmly.

Are you working on something or would you like one of our patterns?

She reached for the pattern box as the other ladies got out their work.

Baby booties,

Dog blankets or fluffy cardigans?

She asked with a smile.

Mrs Craffin pulled her jacket in closer and sat next to Mrs Manley,

Her ample frame squeezed snugly between two immovable wooden arms.

I've got a little project I can make myself busy with,

She replied.

Been knitting a long time now.

This will be the 15th baby grown in as many months.

The paediatric unit,

You know,

They rely on me.

Oh,

How lovely,

Mrs Manley replied.

And what sees you here with us in Heaton Valley?

She was eager to know more of this perfect stranger.

My best friend,

Mrs Craffin declared dramatically.

She's lived here for years,

Besides which I've had enough of city life.

But,

Me hubby,

Says you get to a point where common sense must prevail and subjecting ourselves to any more of those power-hungry,

Money-driven maniacs is something we're simply not prepared to do any more.

Like flicking on a switch,

The energy changes.

It only took one person to say something remotely controversial in the blue room for it to light up like a firework.

And now the entire complement was sitting bolt upright.

No mean feat for a crowd of 80-somethings.

I see,

Said Mrs Manley.

Please tell us more.

Yes,

Do,

Urged others from behind their argyle knits.

They sent me a letter.

Argyle knits.

It's a never-ending development we can't stand,

Mrs Craffin continued.

When Bert and I moved in from down south,

Lincoln was a quiet little town.

The busiest it ever got was when the tourists travelled up to see our cathedral.

But that didn't last long.

They soon got bored of the peace and quiet and scurried right back to the hellhole they hail from.

At the mention of the H word,

Her audience turned a whiter shade of pale.

But paradoxically,

There remained a hint of southern accent in Mrs Craffin's voice.

She carried on regardless.

As she saw it,

This club needed livening up,

And as long as she'd made the effort to take a trip out,

She might as well be the one to do it.

The straw that broke the camel's back was Lincoln Lakes,

She continued.

Bert says I just can't get past it,

And I must say he's right,

Lord Loving.

Lincoln Lakes,

Said a voice from the back.

It was on the TV,

Muttered someone else.

The new place that flooded.

Oh yes,

I heard about that,

Whispered another.

The floods,

Repeated Mrs Manley.

They were terrible,

Weren't they?

Were you affected?

No,

But my cousin was.

That's all four.

Did you manage to help her?

Where did she stay?

I heard the Salvation Army were running the rescue effort.

Mrs Craffin's expression hardened.

She drowned.

You could have cut the tension with a knife.

That someone so significantly close to such a disaster was sitting here in Manley's garden centre,

Willing to tell their tale.

This was the gossip of the week.

I'm so sorry,

Soothed Mrs Manley.

That must have been terrible for you.

And it's not over yet,

Mrs Craffin said,

Accepting a cup of tea with a wry smile.

There's been an inquiry.

I get all the info first hand from Bert.

He's old drinking mates with someone in the council,

And he told me those Peaks got away with it.

Not as Saul was knitting now.

Who got away with it?

The developers of Lincoln Lakes.

That's where the flood began.

They knowingly built on a flood plain and didn't take the proper precautions.

Just how it got passed through planning is nobody's business.

Murmurs of,

That's disgusting and how dare they,

Rang throughout the room.

Heads shook and cups rattled in their saucers as the old ladies comforted each other.

But how could they get away with that?

Demanded Mrs Manley.

We don't know,

But we're determined to find out.

Me and the stop dodgy developing committee.

Mrs Manley stifled a smirk.

This was serious business.

Even if Mrs Craffin did have an unfortunate way of making it sound like a soap opera.

Who's behind it all?

She asked calmly.

I can't believe things like this can be allowed to happen.

Rumour has it they're gangsters.

Mrs Craffin declared.

She got the reaction she wanted.

A sharp intake of breath swept the room and Mrs Manley whispered.

The Skinners.

They've got fingers in every pie this side of Lincoln.

And not just there,

Added Mrs Craffin.

They're only at it again.

But this time they'd branch further afield.

Mrs Manley was now visibly moved.

The idea that such poison might spread to anywhere she knew terrified her.

Hadn't her friend Paul Smart got rid of the Skinners once before?

Surely they weren't going to try their luck at market heating again,

Were they?

No,

Paul would never allow that.

But then again,

He was a much older man than he was all those years ago.

Where to?

She asked Mrs Craffin.

Not sure she wanted to know the answer.

Ryegrass meadow,

I think they're calling it.

At least that's what Bert says.

And as I say,

He should know,

Shouldn't he?

It was sunny by the time Ava arrived at Martin's house.

It was hot and the large stone blocks on the building's facade basked in the sun's glow.

Ava had never really noticed it before.

The house,

That was.

She'd always assumed it was just another part of the garden centre.

But this building was different from the others.

An estate in its own right,

With a paddock out the back,

Extensive hillside views beyond,

And a large beamed porch overlooking the acreage out the front.

Leading up to it,

The long gravel drive,

Which she now realised forked into two,

Swung left for the house and right for the garden centre.

In between,

A network of pathways and parking areas,

Peppered with fruit trees and ornamental bushes,

Gave it a rustic feel.

She had to admit it was rather charming,

Even if it was less manicured than she would have kept it herself.

After knocking a few times,

She wandered round the back.

And sure enough,

Daisy,

Her best friend,

And Martin Gardner were out in the paddock.

Daisy rushed up to her,

But her clothes were filthy.

What are you wearing?

Said Ava.

She didn't have any boots,

So we got some from the shop,

Said Martin,

Defensively.

He wanted to be civil,

But Ava always seemed to have a problem.

Thank you for having her,

Said Ava.

Now,

Maisie,

It's time to go home.

Why don't you have a go?

Said Maisie,

Ignoring her.

No.

But Aunty Ava,

You used to compete with Mummy.

Tell Mr.

Gardner all about it.

Then she winked at Maisie.

I'm not dressed for it,

Ava said,

Struggling to find her words.

Knowing perfectly well she was.

Her new jeans and pink polo top were much the same as she used to wear.

Reaching over for an old pair of boots behind him,

Martin was enjoying the spectacle.

These were the ones his wife had left,

But Ava eyed them suspiciously.

OK,

So they were a decent brand and about her size.

She could let that slide,

She supposed.

But this was awkward.

She hadn't ridden since Jessica died,

And she didn't feel like making a spectacle of herself.

Then she caught sight of the desperate look in her niece's eyes,

And she changed her mind.

It took just two steps and an agile vault for Ava to land perfectly upright on all 15.

Hands.

This was a beautiful beast,

Dark and handsome.

Just like Chestnut,

Her old horse.

He likes you,

Declared Daisy triumphantly.

Then suddenly,

Without warning,

Ava was away.

Go on,

Ava,

I'm with you,

Jessica said in her ear.

It's been a while,

Hasn't it?

And moving together as one,

Ava took Martin Gardner's horse for the ride of a lifetime.

Tears came to her eyes as she looked away to the Lincolnshire walls.

Go on,

Ava,

Said Jessica reassuringly.

She looked to the gate.

It was wide open,

And with a bold shake,

Her dark hair came loose and her slim frame sat bolt upright.

She was smiling now and watching her closely.

Martin smiled back.

But he had been charmed by a smile that was not for him.

This was Ava's smile of childhood recognition.

That unaffected innocence she shared only with her sister.

It was some time until she returned.

As they entered the paddock,

The horse began to bolt.

It was as though he didn't want to be back.

And Ava sympathized with him.

That was truly something,

Declared Martin,

As she came to a halt in front of him.

I've never seen master move that fast.

And grabbing hold of the reins,

He pulled his horse to him.

Ava lighted the stallion and brushed herself down.

Being back in the saddle had boosted her confidence unexpectedly.

And all at once,

She felt like her old self again.

Daisy and Maisie,

Meanwhile,

Looked on in delight.

Their plan was working.

At least Martin and Ava were looking at each other,

Which amounted to much the same thing.

Would you like a look around the stables,

Martin suggested.

And following his lead,

Ava thought nothing of it as he led her further into his estate,

Where they would spend the following hour together.

Talking horses,

Country life,

And happier times.

I hope you enjoyed this episode of The Story of Daisy.

If you did,

Don't forget to like and follow to hear more.

Reviews

What interesting pieces knitted together— very vivid! Want to know what’s on that phone, what the little old ladies are up to and what Martin and Ava get up to😍
Thank you and I’ve missed you!❤️🙏🏽