Harriette, love John

The circumstances which brought these best friends together are extraordinary. When Harriette Lawrence, Jonathon Parker, Rosanna Stephens, Florence Vitzhoven-Ellis, Rowland Carrington and Henry Thomas meet on a wet Tuesday afternoon in the Psychiatric Surgery of Dr Lawrence, Harriette’s Father, they have no idea of the good times and the not so good times they will have together as a six for the next thirteen years of their lives.
But there is a Judas among them, one of our super six is starting to show signs of going off the rails and does something drastic that will end lives as they know it. Now faced with this new situation the gang have to grow up much quicker than they ever imagined.


1. Johnny

“I fucking hate you!” A voice screamed. The harshness and pure hatred of her words rang sharply throughout the modern sitting room in which they had once shared endless evenings watching films and eating take away. So many hours they would spend as a family sat watching Saturday night entertainment; those days seemed so far away.

“I never want to see you again, get out of my house!” she shouted. The emotion was all too clear; the voice spat the rage and the fury out throwing abuse at her husband. The furious voice belonged to the former Mrs Wilknot, though not anymore, she assured herself.

Lily Parker, her maiden name, was fuming, she glared at her future ex-husband, he was stood there, right in front of her and he was prepared to lie to her face. Before, Lily may have been easy to lie to, she may have heard Jonathon’s sweet and tender voice and melt like butter, but not anymore. Times had changed, she had moved on, way on. She was finally seeing this bastard for what he really was. Lily wasn’t a little girl anymore; she was a grown woman and she would not let this man control her life. Shame he waited until after they were married before he showed his true colours.

The pair stood in the living room screaming at each other but little did they know, or seem to remember, that just upstairs their young son Johnny was sat on the floor in his bedroom. The boy, he was still a boy, barely in school sat on the blue carpet. His bare feet being tickled by the thick strands, his legs were brought up against his chest, his chin resting on his knees.

He heard his Mum screaming at his Dad and then his Dad screaming at his Mum, this wasn’t the first time he had heard his parents arguing. They were always at it, they hated each other. He hoped, well, he had prayed endlessly, that they would stop and love each other like they used to, when things were perfect. Lily knew it was not good for little Johnny to hear them arguing, she had made a promise to herself and to Johnny that she would not fight in front of him. Lily went to her husband and demanded that they would protect their son’s innocents as much as they could and they would try not to damage him any more than they already had. They had both agreed that they would try and remain civil in front of their son, but that seemed to have gone out of the window and they had forgotten all about their promise.

“Your house? Your house?” Jonathon Wilknot, the child’s Father, thundered back. “This is my bloody house you bitch and you know full well it is!”

“Bitch? Don’t you speak to me like I’m one of your prostitutes Jonathon because I won’t stand here and take it like they’re paid to do,” Lily snarled pointing her finger accusingly at Jonothan who sighed, he rested his hands on the mantel piece, he raised his head to look himself dead in the eyes in the mirror. He then turned his head slightly to meet eye contact with his wife. She was glaring at him, shaking her head slowly.

“She is not a prostitute!” he emphasised each of his words carefully, the tone of his voice was one not one of anger, but for a few seconds it was vulnerability, he wanted what he was saying to be true, but the real truth was, that he was lying. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“As many times as it takes to convince yourself that it’s true, when in reality all of your girls are prostitutes,”

“Jenna is not a prostitute!”

“So that’s her name, the name of the whore who is destroying our family not to mention our marriage,”

“Oh please, our marriage is long dead, you know that.”

“And whose fault is that?” she demanded.

“How should I know, why don’t you ask Mark?” He spun back around to face his wife square on, the look in his eyes was hatred, he pointed accusingly at her, and he began walking closer to Lily, who was struggling to contain her anger and fear.

“Mark is my Boss, why are you so obsessed with him? I’m not having an affair with my Boss,”

The shouting continued, little Johnny tried to block out the anger and the naughty cuss words, that his Mother often warned him against using. He put his hands up to his ears and pressed hard, trying to stop the words leaking into his head but the arguing continued and it was getting louder. The voices were relentless, neither one was backing down.

He heard a sharp sound, like a smack, then a scream. Then he knew that it was not something hitting something, but someone striking someone else. The scream belonged to his Mother, he was quite sure of that. Though he had never heard her cry out in pain before, but he could not imagine his Father making such a noise.

Johnny stood up off of the floor; he sighed, inhaling deeply before stepping towards the door. He bent down and began moving the boxes full of toys he had piled in front of the door. He had tried to barricade himself in, like he normally did when his parents started speaking to each other, he much preferred it when they did not talk at all, at least if they didn’t talk, there was no chance of them arguing. 

It was something, thankfully they rarely did, however when they did attempt to engage in conversation it almost certainly resulted in another argument.

Johnny was scared his Dad would get violent; the thought often crossed his mind that his Father would lash out and strike someone. He was worried about his own safety. That is why he hid. He was furious, he was so selfish, and he hadn’t bothered to make sure his Mum was safe. He had forgotten all about her. He threw the boxes out of the way and hurtled down the stairs.

Johnny ran into the living room where he knew the voices had come from. He saw his Mother lay on the floor, blood pouring from a deep cut on her forehead. His Father was stood above her, his eyes fixed on her, his hands trembling, his face was pale.

He had never hit anyone before let alone his wife. He looked at Lily lying on the floor, and then his eyes flicked to the door where his son was stood, his eyes wide. He looked into the little boy’s soul and saw anger and hatred towards him, the very same anger his Mother had expressed just moments earlier.

Jonathon tried to move, he tried to go to his wife to comfort her but he was frozen in his spot.

Johnny ran over to his Mother, pushing past his Father. He didn’t even speak to him let alone acknowledge him. He held her head in his lap.

The little boy didn’t know what to do; He saw his Father step towards them.

“Get back!” he said quietly but his Father ignored him. “I said get back!” he shouted louder. “Get back,” he begged.

Johnny stood up, he couldn’t tell if his Mother was going to live but she was breathing, he knew that much.

“Where are you going?” his Father asked, his eyes following his son to the door.

“To phone for an ambulance,” the little boy replied before turning back around to face his Father. “And the police,”

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