Women's Refuge

Copyright Oggbashan December 2019

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

Part One is 'Brigit'; Part Two is 'Brigit Too'; Part Three is 'Brigit's Babies'; Part Four is 'Christmas Debt'.

+++

Introduction to Part Five.

I had met Brigit the Irish earth goddess. She had used me subtly first to change the lives of many oppressed and neglected women (part one) in our community and then with Deirdre to stop a refuse tip despoiling the countryside (part two). She had rewarded me both times and had brought Deirdre to me. Now we both worshipped Brigit frequently. 'Worshipping Brigit' can best be done with a man's tongue between a woman's legs. Brigit and Deirdre had made me suffer by teasing me about my inability to satisfy either of them. I had no hope of ever satisfying Brigit: no man could however fit and strong. When Brigit introduced me to Deirdre I was far from fit. A year later, after intensive training from both of them, I had become a new man sometimes capable of satisfying Deirdre - for a few hours.

Then I married Deirdre, with Brigit as bridesmaid or incognito goddess of honour, and we had a baby Brigit. The goddess Brigit, Deirdre and I helped the local midwives to save the maternity unit and encourage home births (part three). We had a baby Brigit, named after the goddess. We with Bronwen, previously nicknamed Brigit had started to solve the problem of debt for poorer women (part four) and had acquired Anna as a helper for our daughter Brigit usually called Biddie.

WOMEN'S REFUGE

I was relaxing in a quiet time as Anna was reading a bedtime story to our daughter Biddie. It had been a stressful week. Biddie had started going to 'big school' full time after a couple of weeks of half-days and was tired and scratchy, very unlike her normal sunny self, for the past few days. She now wanted to read her own bedtime story with Anna's help instead of listening to Anna read. Although Biddie was very proud of her reading ability, her tiredness made the process much longer than it used to be. Biddie was also worried because Anna was starting work in a nursery next week. Anna would be at work when Biddie was at school but Biddie was upset by the impeding change.

I had read the local paper's headline about the conviction for 'arson with intent to endanger life' of a local man who had attacked the women's refuge that had accepted Anna for a few nights when she was trying to escape her ex-boyfriend Justin. The man wanted revenge on his ex-wife but she had never been at that hostel. She had gone to one in the next county, afraid of what he might do if she remained locally.

The man had smashed a panel in the strengthened door of the hostel and poured petrol through the hole. The occupants had covered the petrol with foam from fire extinguishers when the police arrived and arrested him. It had been one of many attacks on the women's refuge. There had been two attacks during the four nights when Anna had been a resident but only smashing window glass with thrown rocks and an air rifle. The refuge had difficulty funding the repairs necessary several times a month as ex-partners and ex-boyfriends wanted to attack the women.

That article started me thinking about the events of the few weeks when Anna first came to us. After Justin's arrest his wider family wanted to stop her giving evidence. She was provided with Police protection. On the first day of his trial the weather had been bad with torrential rain. That might have caused flooding on some of the rural roads between our remote house and the court so instead of driving my car I had used my heavy 4 x 4 truck equipped with strong bull bars. We were being followed by four policemen in an unmarked car. Three of Justin's relations had set up a road block with two cars across the road. They were standing at the side of the road carrying sledgehammers.

"That's Justin's uncle," Anna screamed.

I slowed down but three tons of my 4 x 4 easily pushed the two cars aside. The police arrested the three men who were convicted of attempted witness intimidation and received short jail sentences.

I wasn't convicted they would be the last so I bought a large vintage ex-Army Diamond T wrecker for our future journeys to court. Two days after I bought that there was another attempt with two panel vans blocking the road. The Diamond T wrecker left them as mangled heaps and four more men were arrested. The men from Lonny's traveller site, also attending the trial, spoke to us after that event and promised protection. They blamed Justin for Lonny's drug addiction and death.

Later that week several of Justin's relations met the travellers' men about quarter of a mile from our house. The relations were carrying petrol cans. They needed hospital treatment for multiple injuries. By the time of Justin's conviction twenty of his male relations had either been imprisoned or hospitalised and the attempts to silence Anna had stopped but the Police and travellers assured us that any future attacks would be met by appropriate means.

That had been nearly two years ago and although some of Justin's relations had been released from jail we no longer felt threatened. Anna had been scared during Justin's trial but gradually recovered her confidence over the months after his conviction. Now she was about to start work again away from our house she was slightly concerned but the threat seemed to have gone.

+++

I continued to read an article in the local paper about the Council's despair over a number of neglected buildings recently listed as being 'at risk'. They had limited money available to renovate or repair them, even the ones they owned which were a small part of the list.

The most prominent one they owned was an artillery fort built as part of 'Palmerstone's follies' during a scare that Napoleon III might invade the UK. By the time the fort and the others had been finished Napoleon III had ceased to be the Emperor of the French and they were useless.

It had been built to defend an army base, long gone, and had been given to the Council by the Ministry of Defence in the late 1990s when they decided it was no use even as a temporary barracks. There had been other larger forts that had been sold to developers and remodelled as gated communities of luxury apartments but the smallest one, Fort Inkerman, was in the middle of a run-down industrial estate and in a very unattractive location. It was a listed building but had been vandalised and used by drug users for years.

It ought to have been secure, surrounded by a moat with armour-plated doors at the gatehouse and the main entrance, but the drawbridge had been replaced by a fixed bridge in the early 1900s and the hydraulic mechanism for closing the doors had rusted into uselessness in the 1920s. The doors had been open for anyone to walk in, and since the army left they had except in some buildings sealed with steel shutters, wrecking any of the fittings and fixtures that couldn't be stolen. If it had had lead on any roof it would have gone but all the internal buildings were under bomb-proof brick arches covered with many feet of rammed earth and grassed on top except for the paved walkways and heavy gun emplacements for large muzzle loading rifled cannon of the 1880s. Many of the old guns were still in place, weighing many tons. Some were still lying on the small parade ground because they needed heavy machinery to move them.

I wondered, idly, what use a small artillery fort might be in the 21st Century. I hadn't thought for long when my wife Deirdre walked into the room carrying a tray with three cups of coffee and a glass of milk. I jumped up when I realised the goddess Brigit was following her, in her normal shape as a sister that my first wife never had. She was wearing a long white jersey dress with a thin golden belt.

As usual, whenever I saw the goddess Brigit, no matter how tired I felt, I had an insistent erection. Deirdre noticed the bulge and smiled. She knew we would be making love shortly with or without Brigit's help.

"Sit down, Raymond, and drink your coffee," Brigit ordered.

She took a cup of coffee and the glass of milk from Deirdre's tray.

"I'm going up to see Anna and my goddaughter," Brigit said. "I think all of you need some of my milk. While I'm gone, drink your coffee and then worship me with Deirdre. Anna and I won't be down until you've finished."

I sat down abruptly. Deirdre pushed a cup of coffee in my hand.

"Brigit is right," Deirdre said. "We need this if you are going to worship her."

Brigit and Deirdre knew that I was feeling my age. Deirdre is younger than me but both of us had been worn put by an over-excited Biddie this week despite Anna's assistance. I sipped the coffee. As I thought, it had been made with Brigit's breast milk. Even that first sip made me feel better. By the end of the cup I was ready to worship Brigit.

Deirdre sat back on the settee and heaved her skirt up. I got onto my knees and placed my head between her legs, extending my tongue to lick at her naked sex. Deirdre pulled up her top and stuffed some of it in her mouth. She normally reacts very noisily whenever I am worshipping Brigit but we didn't want Biddie to think I was murdering her mother.

As I licked and pushed my tongue between her lower lips Deirdre's hands came down to cradle my head and direct me exactly where she wanted me to be. Her legs clamped around my head as she reached her first orgasm. Her hand went up to massage her breasts. Her heavyweight skirt slipped down to conceal me in a warm perfumed enclosure as I licked harder. Her hand came down again to hold my head through her skirt as she shuddered again and again above me.

After she had reached her final climax she uncovered my head and rested it on her lap. Just after that Brigit walked back into the room.

"Well done, you two," Brigit said, "and congratulations Deirdre on stifling your noise. I knew you were doing it but Biddie didn't hear a thing. She's almost asleep and Anna will be down shortly."

I moved myself to sit next to Deirdre. I didn't want Anna to find me kneeling on the floor in front of Deirdre but I was slightly disappointed that while I had brought her to orgasm I was still painfully erect.

"Later, Raymond, later," Brigit said, "Deirdre knows what you want, but I need to talk to you two and Anna."

We knew that Anna's boyfriend Darren worshipped the goddess Brigit with Anna but we pretended we didn't know. Anna and Darren had hoped to marry once Justin had been jailed but they had deferred it until Anna had another job, not just caring for Biddie. That new job started next week and the two of them could start saving towards their first house. While Anna had been working for us she had free accommodation and food so she had managed to save almost all her earnings and the money the police had given her after Justin's arrest. Darren had invested in his motorcycle repair business. He lived in a one bedroom flat above the shop but that wasn't really large enough if they wanted to start a family. They hoped to buy a large shop with more living space when they had enough savings.

Brigit went off to the kitchen to make more cups of coffee. As she returned Anna walked into the room too.

"You wanted me, Brigit?" Anna asked.

"I want to talk to all three of you," Brigit answered, "about the women's refuge."

I knew what was coming. The goddess Brigit had another task for us. Had I got enough energy now that Biddie was more demanding and Anna might be marrying and moving out?

"The women's refuge I spent a few nights at?" Anna queried.

"That's the one. They have a real problem with keeping up with the damage caused by rejected men. The repair costs are crippling their ability to help abused women. They need a place that is safer and less likely to be damaged. There is such a place -- Fort Inkerman."

"Fort Inkerman?" I asked. "But that's a wreck."

"It is now but it shouldn't take much to make it safe and then gradually restore it," Brigit said.

"Much? Millions of pounds!" I protested.

"Not if you get sponsorship and volunteer labour, Raymond. Once the doors work again any angry men wouldn't be able to get in, couldn't smash any windows because there aren't any in the fort's outer walls, and the women in the refuge would be safe, which they aren't now. The council would lease it to anyone willing to restore it and that could be done over years or even decades once the main doors can be shut."

"Which they haven't been for nearly a hundred years," I said. "They weigh many tons each and the mechanism to move them is scrap."

"But you know engineering firms that could solve that, Raymond. It doesn't have to be the original mechanism restored but a modern solution."

I sighed. I would be asking many people for favours.

"What do you want from us, Brigit?" I asked.

"I want you, or rather Anna and Deirdre, to work with the Women's Refuge on a proposal to lease Fort Inkerman from the council. They won't want to work directly with you, Raymond, because most of them are very wary of men. You should solve the problem of shutting the main doors so that when the Women's Refuge project starts the fort is secure against theft and vandalism of the repair work. When they have a lease you will need an architect to submit the planning application to use it as a hostel and builders to do the repairs. For a start, if the former officer's mess could have new windows and plumbing that alone would provide about five more bedrooms than the refuge has now. After that, the former soldier's quarters in the bombproof arches will also need new windows, bathrooms, kitchens and heating. Each arch, and there are twenty, could take up to four women each but that will take years."

Now that Brigit had given us a task to do she left soon afterwards. So did Anna, now that Biddie was asleep. She borrowed a car to visit Darren and would be back late this evening, ready for Biddie when she wakes up tomorrow morning.

As soon as they had gone Deirdre dragged me upstairs to our bedroom to ride me and engulf the erection I had been experiencing from as soon as the goddess Brigit appeared. Brigit's milk gave both of us the stamina for more than an hour of frantic lovemaking before our evening meal. When we finally went back to bed Deirdre wanted me to worship Brigit for half an hour before she flipped me over and rode me again. I went to sleep with Deirdre's muscles still gripping my flaccid erection. I woke up to find her riding my morning stiffness.

+++

The following morning Anna drove Biddie to school. Anna was no longer worried to be out and about on her own. When Lonnie died he had left a note thanking Anna, me and Deirdre for our support in his unsuccessful attempts to free himself of drugs. The three of us had been unofficially adopted as family members of the extended traveller family and they kept a watchful eye on Anna. Brigit had also promised to 'look after' Anna. My adoption by the traveller family could be awkward with my status as one of the 'great and good' of the local community because I sometimes had to act as mediator between the travellers and the police. The travellers might take my advice when they wouldn't from the authorities.

When Anna returned we discussed Fort Inkerman. Anna and Deirdre would talk to those running the women's refuge. I would make an appointment to see the property management of the local council to see whether it might be possible to lease the fort. Last night Anna had discussed it with Darren. He knew the fort very well because a local motorcycle club had been using the fort's parade ground as a starting point for their rides as a group. If a hundred motorcycles started at once the noise was contained by the fort's walls and did not disturb anyone. Darren thought that a couple of the club's members might be able to help with closing the doors. They were mechanics maintaining a local company's hire stock of JCBs, excavators etc., and were skilled with modern hydraulics.

That evening, after Biddie was in bed and asleep the three of us and Darren discussed our progress. Anna and Deirdre had had an enthusiastic response from the women's refuge once they had explained how Fort Inkerman could be made secure. The initial reaction had been dubious because of its solitary location in the middle of an industrial estate that was deserted at night but if they could be protected by a moat, thick walls and armoured doors they would feel much safer than in their present location in a former public house near the town centre.

Darren had spoken to two of the motorcycle club members who were hydraulic mechanics. They knew the door closing mechanism of Fort Inkerman very well. The original hydraulic pressure had been provided by a steam engine and a hydraulic tower, now long collapsed. They thought, but would have to look more closely next weekend, that the rams for opening and closing the doors were sound but whether they could still deal with the necessary pressure might be dubious. If not, rams recycled from a scrap heavy tipper truck might be a possible alternative.

My discussions with the council officers had received a cautious welcome. They were embarrassed by Fort Inkerman because they were trying to persuade other owners of buildings at risk to do repair works but they couldn't repair their own building. I had been lent the keys of those parts which were still locked and untouched by vandals, mainly the gatehouse at the landward end of the bridge over the moat and the underground ammunition store and tunnels. I would need access for an architect top prepare plans for approval, not just by the council but by the heritage body as well.

We agreed that all four of us, and others if we could get them there, would have a look around Fort Inkerman on Saturday.

+++

On Saturday morning Deirdre, Anna and I were joined by Darren, four members of the motorcycle club and three qualified builders from the travellers' site. The gatehouse had two armoured doors flat against the walls at the back of an arched entrance. The gatehouse itself had no windows at ground level, just a door covered with a steel plate and locking bar padlocked across it. I had the keys to the padlock and the door but I had to use a significant amount of WD40 before the locks would work. Inside the door was a heavy metal bar that could be swung down to secure the door in place. Anyone inside, with the door secure, would be safe from attack and there were no openings that could be used to pour petrol in. Getting post delivered might be difficult but that was a minor problem. The gatehouse alone could take half of the refuge's residents in a safer location.

Once inside we had to use torches to see the door closing mechanism which hadn't been used for nearly 100 years. The hydraulic experts from the motorcycle club examined the machinery before concluding that it was beyond repair. It was only suitable, once removed and cleaned up, as a static museum exhibit. The rest of us went upstairs. We were pleased that almost everything was untouched. There was a basic flat with four bedrooms, a kitchen, bathroom and two living rooms. A few panes of glass would need replacing and the sash windows overhauled because the cords had rotted. The travellers' builders thought that could be done in half a day. If the water and electricity supplies were turned back on the bathroom and kitchen, although very dated, could be used, but it would probably be more sensible to rip out the bathroom and kitchen fittings and replace with new.

The motorcycle mechanics had brought a couple of portable hydraulic jacks, each of five ton capacity. They had emptied a can of WD40 on the hinges of the armoured doors and used a pressurised grease gun as well. They eased the jacks between the doors and the wall and started pumping. After a quarter of an hour we heard a screech as the doors began to move. They stopped, greased again, jacked the doors back to their original position, added more grease and started again. They were able to move the doors about two feet from the walls of the arched entrance before their jacks were at their fullest extent. But they had proved to themselves, and us, that the doors would move. They added more grease before returning the doors to the original open position.