Rage of the Phoenix Read online

  After a hectic couple of weeks, the family found themselves in a far better position than they’d been in for years. Sally encouraged them to keep the penthouse for at least a month. During which Sally became a steady companion to the family. Sally even took holidays from work to support them.

  The woman ended a call to her barrister and was chewing her lip. Sally scrutinised her carefully, she’d faith the woman would continue to survive and thrive. Look at her, after just two weeks, instead of being curled into a ball, she was making plans and putting them together. Everything she’d survived, and the world had just landed in her lap. Miracles could happen!

  The barrister informed the woman, another further hearing was due. Further charges were expected. The legal team had an idea he might make bail, but everyone was hoping he didn’t. Together with her son, daughter, Sally and Mr Wilkes sat and discussed the future.

  “What do you want to do?” Sally asked her, getting straight to the point.

  “It’s a hell of a lot of money.” She replied thinking hard. She was still in a state of stunned disbelief that she’d won such a large amount. Besides the shock that not only was her husband a long-term vicious abuser, he wasn’t her husband by law. Her mind was whirling.

  “Honey, that’s a fuck load of dough.” Sally told her, and the woman giggled for the first time since her beloved husband, Justin had died.

  “I want to move to America.” She blurted as an image of Jessica Fletcher crossed the screen and the little boys quieted. The three small boys had discovered Murder She Wrote, the day after Sally installed them in the penthouse. The children became instantly hooked. She pointed at the TV.

  “Somewhere like to Cabot Cove but without the murders!” She mused smiling. The kids nodded an agreement.

  “I can do that easy enough. I’ll set the ball rolling.”

  “Mr Wilkes needs to come too.” The daughter said looking up at them.

  “That’s not in doubt, of course he’ll come.” They didn’t even need a discussion over that issue. Mr Wilkes had become part of the family. He was wonderful, with a huge heart and a great stand-in grandparent for the children who’d none.

  “What else is in your mind?”

  “I once had a dream. I want to make it real. We’ve the money to carry that out.” The woman mused and Sally sat forward interested at the look in her eyes. The woman hesitantly began talking and then found it hard to stop. When she ran out of things to say about her dream, she looked at everyone. Sally gazed at her in admiration and pride.

  “I can help you achieve that if you’d let me come too. I enjoy my job but what you’d like to accomplish, it’s something I’d get my teeth into and it’ll be so fulfilling.” Sally said. She received a nod. Good people, Mr Wilkes, Sally, the woman needed them around her. For assorted reasons, as time ended up proving.

  Chapter One.

  May 2014

  I wandered around the new offices and sighed in contentment. This was the final step in getting everyone settled, this magnificent building. After three years of searching, we’d found our place. I’d chosen South Dakota as the state to make a home in. Life had purpose now. Sitting behind a desk, I spun my chair and let mind my drift back over the last few years. A shiver of pleasure ran through me at what we’d achieved and what I’d accomplished.

  On first moving to America, we’d bought a cabin in Ouray, Colorado. Swiftly followed by a house in Camden, Maine, and we’d moved between the two. We’d loved being in Camden in the beginning, but something was missing. Instead, we turned it into a vacation house and kept looking for home. I hadn’t settled, needing that elusive more.

  The kids and I had gone on a four-week trip in Sturgis five months after our move to the States. That’s when we fell in love. Micah, my eldest lad, was motorbike mad and visiting Sturgis, one of the biggest bike rallies in the world made sense. I loved the bikes, the atmosphere, I just loved everything about Sturgis.

  We came back to watch the rally the following year, then last year, I’d started searching for somewhere to live near Sturgis and Rapid City. We’d rented a house and the Black Hills had fascinated me. I remembered Calamity Jane singing about them, who doesn’t remember that Doris Day version?

  The minute we drove through the Black Hills. I felt it, home, this was my more. To many it might sound crazy, but the Hills called to something inside me. As we drove past an old mansion up in the mountains, half an hour from Rapid City centre, named Reading Hall, we stopped.

  The place before my eyes was a sprawling mess and falling apart. The previous owners had left it to rot and my kids, somewhat horrified, found the condition of the mansion appalling. As I ignored them, I focussed on the hidden charm, the potential, and I needed a big house. Really needed a big freaking house!

  My kids had gone from five to sixteen and with my youngest twins’ recent adoption being completed, Reading Hall was perfect. Mr Wilkes called the local realtor who drove out and met us there and then. The house came with sixty acres of mostly wooded land and appeared to have a fair price. There was a dangerous road leading from Nemo Road which led to the Hall, which needed immediate repairing. Which of course, I’d have to pay for the resurfacing.

  Mr Wilkes, now a grandfather to sixteen kids, didn’t think the price fair and relentlessly bid it lower. I stood by and let him bulldoze his way to a price he considered the house was worth. He didn’t believe in squandering money, even though we had plenty to spare. Firmly, he told the relator that although I was rich, that didn’t equate to me being a cash cow! Hiding my grin from the flustered man, I winked at the kids. Micah, my eldest lad, hid his grin too, as the others watched shocked, that I was buying the Hall.

  Within three weeks at the start of January two thousand and fourteen, I owned the tatty old mansion and work had begun on it. The original designer had fixated on the gothic era, with the embellishments one expected gothic architecture to have. Reading Hall boasted twenty bedrooms, a library, two studies to name a few rooms.

  Let’s not forget a man cave my eldest sons had hijacked! The kitchen was the size of a house itself and I adored the space and there was a linen room. In fact, there were many other rooms I looked forward to filling. The kids had their own ideas too.

  Large, carved light grey stone blocks made up the design of the Hall, it was a rectangular shape with a tower on each corner. The stone gleamed faintly in the sun once gardeners cut most of the suffocating ivy away. I assumed the person who built the Hall built it to re-create European fortress’s which had towers, but I wasn’t arguing.

  Although called Reading Hall, in my mind it looked more a castle than a mansion but hey ho! In between the towers were strong battlements and a vast quantity of gargoyles and grotesques decorated the walls and battlements. Those four towers, with their many leaded and stained-glass windows and wooden carved balconies, gave me a sense of safety. The towers stood guard with my gargoyles. Their roofs reached into a pinnacle that had a widow’s walk around each one.

  My two eldest daughters claimed the north tower for themselves, the south tower my eldest sons claimed. The east tower was Mr Wilkes and the west tower we turned into a fun tower for the smaller children and me.

  My nine-year-old son loved Star Wars and so the woods to the left of us now held a full-scale replica of an Ewok Village. Rope bridges and wooden huts hid amongst the trees. The builders cleared one section of the treeline behind the Hall for a small cottage, for my housekeeper, Mrs Ames. Mr Ames was the Hall’s groundsman. Eddie, my four-year-old daughter, was hooked on Lord of the Rings. So we had a mini-sized Rivendell built in a different direction from Ewok Village.

  The builders demolished the old garages and built new ones to house the family cars and bikes. The architect kept the same design as the old garage which had been a converted stable block. It was quaint. We wheeled our bikes onto an elevator that took them up to a second level. There was a second garage with ATV’s and snowmobiles. A full-sized ice rink was built (with only a smal
l seating section) as my son Tye was very talented and loved to practise.

  A baseball diamond was created for Carmine who was as proficient at baseball as Tye was on the ice. Hidden amongst the trees were more cottages for the security team Sally had hired. In fact, Liz the personal guard came with us from England, and now managed the team. Everyone loved Liz to bits.

  The girls played tennis, the Hall already had tennis courts, so they were just restored. Trees hid the ice rink and the baseball diamond, as I didn’t want to look at them from my bedroom window. Mr Ames restored the formal gardens with a team and another team repaired the outside swimming pool.

  It was fifteen weeks of hard work and a huge crew, but the team had done it. A little over a month ago we’d moved into the Hall. The kids soon changed their tune when they saw the renovations. While it was being done, I’d been looking for a Headquarters for my dream.

  Within two weeks of us moving to the States, (the day after our visas came through), Sally started work on my idea and it surpassed my wildest dreams. At first, we’d used rented offices to make it come true. With my permanent move, I decided it was time to find a HQ the Trusts owned.

  The Phoenix Trust was the start of it, a charity set up to help the armed forces people who lived on the streets. I’d expanded that to include police, EMT’s firemen, rescue workers. Anyone who I thought did a public service and a hero’s job. In England, the poor treatment a percentage of them had received on returning from war and so on, disgusted me.

  In America, so many more wounded heroes lived on the streets. Phoenix Trust started in Norfolk, home to many in the Navy. I’d bought a three hundred room hotel and had it renovated into two/three bed apartments. The architect made sure the downstairs of the hotel had enough room to install a gym, a swimming pool, a sauna and a hydrotherapy pool. He included in the design a doctor’s surgery, dentist surgery, three counselling rooms and a manager’s office.

  On top of those, I insisted on a large kitchen, communal dining room, a small cinema, a small bowling alley, a games room, a physical therapy room. Then we added extras such as a benefits office, a personal shopper, a career advisor and a lawyer’s office. At first Sally thought I was mad until she realised how well Norfolk worked.

  Entrance to the Phoenix Trust or P.T as it became abbreviated to, began with a client arriving. A hot simple meal was the first port of call, after that they met the doctor for a health check. Next, we assigned them an emergency furnished apartment until their own apartment was ready. After a night’s sleep, the manager sat with them for a meeting. This happened with the doctor beside them.

  During the meeting, we explained what we intended to do to help them. As a client, they received a seven thousand dollar furnishing allowance to furnish their apartment. Next, they got a three-thousand-dollar personal allowance, to get clothes, toiletries, personal items such as a watch or cd player.

  We often had a battle to get our clients to understand that the apartment was theirs for life. And they didn’t have to pay back the money given to them. They didn’t have to pay for any of the services provided for them. They weren’t used to being given something for nothing.

  After the meeting, they went with the doctor for a full check-up, the physiotherapist and counsellor attended too. The doctor made up health charts for them, deciding what medication they needed or physiotherapy. Everyone had assessments with a counsellor who talked to them about what help they needed. Many experienced post-traumatic stress, nightmares, anger issues, and I knew they desperately needed the counsellors.

  The benefit officer met with them too. Their task was to figure out if they were getting their full entitlement of benefits. The lawyer booked a consultation with them to discover if they’d children, with whom they wanted contact. Possibly, there were other legal issues that needed addressing. The dentist worked with them on dental hygiene and any corrective issues they needed fixing.

  The personal shopper helped them choose furniture for their apartment, clothes and belongings. If the client thought they couldn’t manage on the street shopping, the personal shopper helped them order online.

  Once they understood everything, life for them became easier. I often ended up reduced to tears, at witnessing the disbelieving hope in their eyes when they got it. They had somewhere safe to be, they could come and go and no one desired to control them or isolate them. They had a roof over their head and someone cared. Someone was fighting for them and their rights and recognised the sacrifice they had made for their country.

  There were now twenty P.T properties across twenty states. Our plan was to get one per state. Sally set up an admin team for each state and they chased doctors, dentists, lawyers and so on to volunteer. Anyone who’d donate a morning or afternoon, a day even.

  Everyone volunteering for a P.T signed a contract that they were donating a set time each week. No matter how much time they donated, they signed a six-month agreement on each renewal. If they wanted to renew, of course. Most unquestionably got job satisfaction out of it. By signing six-month contracts, it meant our people gained stability in seeing the same person for their appointments. Retired volunteers felt useful and their skills needed again.

  We maintained a level of paid staff in the renovated hotels. Maids to clean the downstairs areas and we staffed the kitchen twenty-four hours a day. Each residence came with a fitted kitchen and bathroom. We understood sometimes they needed to be around people and not alone, hence the communal dining room.

  One last thing we did for them, was to organise a career meeting. The meeting helped set a plan up so when healthy, they could get help retraining in a job or go back to college. If they wanted to start their own business, we’d help. A part of what we offered was a start-up loan, payable back without interest once their business started earning money.

  The P.T covered their college expenses if needed. We did this on a case to case basis. If the medical support found them unable to work, that was fine. We made sure they had their apartment and their entitlements, they could breathe free. We, the people, owed them that much at least!

  The Rebirth Trust was the second part of my dream (R.T). The R.T helped abused men, women and their children escape their terrible home lives. This was an important agenda for me. With my understanding of abuse, I knew how many times I’d sought help and failed. Most shelters were for women, rarely for men, so my R.T’s were a new approach.

  The safe houses used the same approach as P.T, buying hotels and converting the rooms into three or four-bedroom apartments. There was a heavy presence of security (provided by our own P.T people who’d set up security businesses) on these and it was visible. It was a deterrent to any abuser intending to create havoc. The men and women in these safe houses never remained over six months.

  The reason for the six-month stay was simple. If they hadn’t gone back to their abuser within the time allocated, we found they’d adapted to their new life. The starter safe houses used the same bottom layout as the P.T properties. But each apartment came furnished as the families or victim didn’t stay long.

  Once they’d completed the time required, we then moved them to a state of their choosing. A different one from where they’d lived with their abuser and we bought them a home large enough for their family.

  In a legal contract, the R.T kept ownership of the property, but they had a lifetime contract to live in the house free of rent. We helped them get a new job in the locality they wished. If they had no experience, we helped them get the skills they wanted at college again. The choice was theirs.

  Once they were in their new home, we gave them the same as the P.T people, a seven thousand furnishing grant. On admission to the safe house, they got a three thousand personal grant and an extra one thousand per child. When they moved to their new home, their belongings moved with them, so there was no need to re-issue that grant. A liaison officer checked in with them each month and made sure everything was okay. Any issues that arose, the officer helped find solutions for th
em.

  The R.T now owned twenty safe houses in twenty states and over five hundred properties for people we’d rehoused. R.T accepted referrals from women’s shelters in those states, as the shelters knew that we’d go further than they could.

  The clients had the opportunity of when on their feet, if they wanted to move into their own purchased home, they could. The home we were providing them returned to the R.T, for someone else to use. This had happened over one hundred times so far. It worked, it meant we were achieving my goal of helping people.

  For me, it meant those families had beaten the odds and become prosperous, we’d succeeded in our goal. It meant that instead of continuing living rent free, they surrendered their homes to help further families. No one was pressured to move out of a R.T property. The satisfaction we felt that these families could free up their property, couldn’t be imagined.

  The third part of my dream was the Eternal Trust. E.T! (As you can see the Trust’s linked to the word Phoenix! I believed the Phoenix as a symbol of my own rebirth.). E.T was for children who’d been sold or forced into the child sex slave trade. E.T’s aim was to help children living on the streets, forced into prostitution by pimps. We helped children used as slaves and abused children.

  Across the States we’d opened five E.T’s in five different states, arrayed in large, green, wide spaces. Each E.T could house one hundred children at a time. It broke my heart we didn’t have many E.T homes, not because money wasn’t available, it was.

  It was so hard to find these children because their captors held them close and well hidden. For each child rescued, ten more took their place. To give the children dignity and privacy back, we gave them each their own room. The children were given a small personal allowance that their own personal liaison managed for them.