The loud altercation between May and her daughter Louise had been going on for some minutes. Knowing Louise's propensity for violence I opened the connecting gate between our gardens and crossed the lawn to May's house. Two high pitched screams emanated from the kitchen and on passing the window I saw May leaning on the counter covering her hands covering face. I arrived at the front door just as it opened. Louise stormed out, turned and shouted back at her mother, "Perhaps now you will do as I sodden well tell you!" Seeing me she spat, "And you can keep your snotty nose out of it."

I am Eric Laxley and at 29 I am comfortably if not well off. My parents died in a car crash four years previously and I inherited the house, a croft cottage in the on the small island of Bornholm now a bird sanctuary off the coast of Wales. Grandfather had bought the croft with eight acres of land during the depression era when it went for a song. A few years ago the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds bought the island as a bird reserve and wanted our land too but we refused to sell. In recent years I've spent a considerable amount of time there watching and filming the wildlife and acting as a part time warden for the RSPB. My parents left enough money in bonds and insurance policies that I don't really have to work but having been apprenticed to a joinery firm, I have a love of wood and craftwork. Mostly this is for my own enjoyment but also use my talents helping others either for a nominal charge or no charge at all. My other love is natural history. I am a keen member of the local Wild Life Trust and often show excerpts of my animal and bird filming to them as part of their winter months programme. Some of my films have been made into TV programmes and that has served to suppliment my income.

May is in her fifties, fairly plump and when not harassed by her daughter, is of a jovial disposition. Her husband died of cancer a decade ago. Even while my parents were alive she and I had were on good terms and since their death she became almost a surrogate mother to me. In return I did a lot of repair work and other odd jobs on her house.

Louise is totally different in character. She inherited her mothers tendency for plumpness but her nature is sour and demanding. Her tongue sharp, her temper quick. A throw back to her grandmother who they say was an absolute tyrant. Because of this she never had any real friends and all the jobs she tried lasted only a few weeks at most before she was asked to leave. As a child she learned that by throwing a tantrum should could get what she wanted from her father, Unfortunately she did not grow out of the habit when he died continued to bulldoze her mother in the same way. Even as a not unattractive teenager her caustic comments kept all but the bravest boys at bay and those that did venture near were soon stung. As a boy a few years older than her, I learned to keep out of her way and nowadays tried to work on the house when she was out.

Now at 26 Louise has became more introverted and aggressive to others. Her father's long battle against cancer with May nursing him twenty fours hours a day at the end meant there was little money left after the funeral. May took two part time jobs, one as a waitress in a local cafe and the other as a school cleaner. Neither paid very well and Louise's demands kept them always in debt.

Entering the house, I found May sitting on the floor, screaming in pain, her hands still covering her face. A riding crop lay tossed on a chair.

"My God, May, what has she done to you?" I gently removed her hands and was aghast at the sight. Two livid weals, one across each cheek extending from mouth to ear. Already they were ridged and a deep crimson colour.

"She wanted salmon and I could only afford cod" sobbed May.

"You mean she welted you for a plate of fish?" I was incredulous. Stunned.

"One thing lead to another and she started on at me again for being the worst mother in the world and then I lost it and told if that was the case to pack her bags and leave." "She said it was her home and I should go and when I told her to get the hell out of it, she picked her riding crop from the hook in the hall and slashed me."

I tended the weals with witchhazel and a salve and gave her a couple of paracetamol. Settling her sobbing gently in a chair I phoned Ernie Hargreaves a friend who was also the local policeman. Ernie was a typical friendly local bobby. Now nearing retirement he knew everyone in the village and always stopped for a chat to any he passed by. He of course knew Louise's escapades having seen May with black eyes and bruises on more than one occasion. Ernie is also a noted naturalist, and we belong to the same Wild Life Group. We know each other well. Although off duty he came round immediately.

Seeing May's face he immediately suggested Louise be arrested and charged with GBH, "Grievous bodily harm," he added. May, he said, should be taken to the hospital and examined by a police surgeon. He suggested that for further photographic evidence of the severity should it be necessary I use my Polaroid camera to photograph it and to take more photos at intervals during the day. Ernie suggested that Louise would most likely be sent to prison for at least three months.

Despite her pain and anger, May had no wish to see her daughter imprisoned and have a criminal record. What was to be done? All of us agreed it would not be safe for May to live alone under the same roof with her daughter yet May would not sanction her arrest or being sent to a psychiatric institution. "She just needs a strong man to control her," she stated with a sideways glance at me.

"How long will she be gone?" I asked. "She took the bus to Shrewsbury and the next one back to the village isn't until 1 o'clock and the one after that is at four," answered the still weeping May.

"Then we have most of the day to plan what to do.".