A literary review by Sam Bartle

As someone who is gradually trying to familiarise themselves with the writing talent of their local region of Hull and East Yorkshire; choosing a work by Vicky Foster was, for me, a piece of required reading. Before selecting this particular book I was already very familiar with the author’s name as a respected Hull poet, and Vicky’s own backstory, involving the traumatic experience of living with a violent partner, had received coverage in the media. So, while I plunged headlong into ‘Bathwater’ without fully knowing what it would contain, I did have an intuition that it would likely refer to aspects of the author’s past; this being, unsurprisingly, an apparent stimulus for her writing.

However, what immediately grasped me about this book was its intriguing format, which caught me totally by surprise. It combines playwrighting, poetry, and prose together in an apparently unique way. Admittedly, the last time that I read the script of a play was when studying Shakespeare for GCSE English, so if I have misinterpreted the work and wandered off-track, then my apologies, but my understanding of it is as follows:

The book is divided into three parts. The first features characters comprising Vicky herself, and her son, (named ‘Joseph’ in the story), giving their own narratives of events, each from different respective timelines and perspectives. The two monologues run in tandem and are infused with poetic statements that echo through the pages and timespan of the play. The reader gets a sense of how Vicky and Joseph are haunted by past experiences, which are gradually revealed during the course of the narrative, as well as the tenderness of a mother’s love for her son, and the maternal instinct to protect him through adversity.

The second part returns to Joseph’s previous monologue and presents it as a seamless address to the reader/audience. The book then concludes with an interesting epilogue, entitled ‘Me and D.I. Jones’, written in prose and dialogue. One wonders at the nature of the relationship and significance of ‘D.I. Jones’ in the context of this narrative. It cleverly hints at possibilities without overtly resolving them, leaving the reader to draw their own conclusions. Was there a romantic connection? It hints at flirtation. Or is it about the safety offered to Vicky by this man’s presence in her home; the contrast between what she had previously experienced in that house? There is also distance between them in spite of their explicitly friendly relationship, and the reader discovers how Vicky has gradually been worn down by the persistent threat of harassment from her ex-partner, and successive relocations to increasingly dilapidated lodgings, which in turn appear to have made Vicky feel more and more ashamed and is pushing her away from the handsome, well-presented ‘D.I. Jones’.

To return to Vicky’s backstory, it’s worth reiterating that ‘Bathwater’ is based on real-life trauma suffered by the author and her children, which adds further poignance to the narrative: Not only did she endure domestic abuse from her partner (named ‘Tom’ in the story), but she also had to cope with an aftermath that involved the difficulties of single motherhood whilst living under the threat of harassment and aggression from her partner after they had separated and he made repeated attempts to return to the house, ultimately resulting in police protection measures. To add to this, her ex-partner was later violently murdered in an unrelated brutal revenge attack, which had the inadvertent effect of putting Vicky’s name into the public gaze as an ex-partner and mother to his children. This created its own anxieties as she strived to shield her children from the truth whilst grieving for a man she once loved, with whom she tried to build a family life, and who was now publicly labelled and associated with violent crime.

With this knowledge, the reader cannot fail to develop a deep respect and admiration for the author’s resilience and how she has progressed from the experience to become an accomplished writer and, of course, a proud mother to her children, who have also had to live with the emotional scarring.

‘Bathwater‘ is a fascinating and bold use of play, poetry, and prose in its storytelling. With subtle, understated words, the author lends more power and resonance to her story than could ever be managed by thrusting the issues directly into the reader’s face. Issues, such as domestic abuse, harassment, abandonment, single motherhood, protecting a son from the truth about his father, and the experience of childhood with an absent father. It also deals with the anxieties that stem from coping with such situations.

Joseph’s story also resonated with me; his Dad was a firefighter on the Hull fire stations, as was my own Dad, albeit at different times. I felt some synergy with this and also a striking contrast in that Joseph’s father harboured a great deal of anger and torment which, as the author alludes, was possibly worsened by the stresses of his job, whereas my own Dad always created a warm and compassionate environment in the family home. For this reason, I felt sadness for Joseph’s childhood without his father, and the problems this may have caused him in his adolescence, whilst also incredibly fortunate that the stresses of my Dad’s occupation hadn’t impacted negatively on my own childhood and our family life in general.

Across the narrative, there are three focal places or locations that stand out for me as a reader, because Vicky’s experience of those spaces, and their significance for her, appear to change over time. They are: the bath; the supermarket; and the decorated room. At various points in the story, these places may witness scenes of optimism and happiness, representing the hopes and aspirations of a couple in love, starting a new family; but as tragedy unfolds, those same spaces play host to trauma and despair and serve as reminders of shattered dreams.

In the case of the bath:

Vicky: “To him I was a princess. And he would drink my bathwater.”

‘Bathwater’ Scene 1, page 10, by Vicky Foster

Here, the ‘bathwater’ is evocative of the strength and passion of Tom’s love for Vicky at the start of their relationship, but very quickly becomes the scene of anger:

Vicky: “…Suddenly red blooms in the bathwater.

Blood. Surely blood…

…It is Tom’s red wine.

He is in a rage.

His eyes are fists.“

‘Bathwater’ Scene 1, page 14, by Vicky Foster

The ‘bathwater’ has now become sullied by Tom’s violent temper, symbolic perhaps of how it spoiled Vicky’s hopes of a dream family life.

“You do not have to grow where you land.

Rinse and repeat.

Go back to the start

and change the bathwater.“

‘Bathwater’, (‘Joseph’), page 48, by Vicky Foster

Once more, the ‘bath’ again becomes symbolic of renewed hope, with the author’s assertion that the ‘bathwater’ can be changed.

I think that Vicky’s use of these spaces is a clever literary device, grounding the narrative in relatable everyday scenarios, with a bitter twist. With the decorated room, the tone again begins positively, with optimism as Vicky and Tom seek to build a life together: 

Vicky: “We’ll shine light in new rooms… 

We scratch our names in the old brick. 

Etch promises that scatter orange dust 

and fade beneath our brushes. 

We scratch out a new life…” 

‘Bathwater’ Scene 1, page 11, by Vicky Foster 

However, once again, the same room (or rooms) become part of the nightmare as Vicky and Joseph are embroiled in the torment of their close connection to Tom, who is now wanted by the police for violent criminal assaults. Those ‘promises’, etched in the brick have now become something to hide in the face of the public gaze, with Tom’s offences being brought to the attention of the media: 

Jos: “I need clean white walls to block it out.

“Vicky: “I need four walls to block it out“

Jos: “but sometimes white paint hides dark secrets.”

‘Bathwater’ Scene 4, page 25, by Vicky Foster

This theme continues with the ‘supermarket’, which begins as a place where Vicky feels contented, spending time with her son: 

“January 2002. I’m 22 now and Joseph is a smiling two-year old bundle of energy. 

I love it here. It’s one of my favourite places. And I know that’s sad. But there you go. I love Asda, what can I say? Usually I come on my own. Just me and Joseph. That’s how I like it best, if I’m honest.” 

‘Bathwater’ Scene 3, page 16, by Vicky Foster 

With news of Tom’s murder, as part of a revenge killing, Vicky begins to suffer extreme bouts of anxiety through her association with such a widely publicised incident, and the clear emotional conflict of this having happened to the man she loved, and with whom she was to have built an idyllic family life. Suddenly, a public place like the supermarket becomes the centre of a deeply uncomfortable, agonising ritual: 

“People are starting to look at me, and I’m not sure if it’s cause they know or whether it’s cause I’m muttering to myself and blocking the aisle. But either way, it’s not good. Think they’re getting to know me here now. Probably sick of loading all the stuff from my abandoned trolley back on the shelves. Last week it wasn’t the tinned fish that freaked me out – sometimes it’s fresh meat; sometimes I get all the way to the freezer aisle – that’s worst. Trolley full of all the things I need to be a good mum.” 

‘Bathwater’ Scene 6, page 30, by Vicky Foster 

The author manages to convey the experience of panic and anxiety very powerfully in her narrative, and the reader cannot help but empathise with the range of emotions that she must have felt on seeing a man that she had loved become publicly known in the press for violent crime, and his eventual murder. Naturally, this has its effect on her mental health, leading to apparent bouts of agoraphobia, and a battle against these feelings in order to care for and protect her son:

Vicky: “…I can hardly leave the house. The sky’s too big, you see. Daft, eh? But it is. The sky’s too big nowadays. 

Too much possibility in all that space.” 

‘Bathwater’ Scene 5, page 24, by Vicky Foster 

Vicky: “My hands are deep inside my pockets, but my arms – my arms are holding off the sky. They are painting sunshine into his days.” 

‘Bathwater’ Scene 5, page 27, by Vicky Foster 

The story of Vicky and Joseph’s suffering does, however, have a silver-lining, which is neatly analogised with this line:

Vicky: “Sometimes people have made a mess and it took a lifetime to get my floors clean.”

‘Bathwater’ Scene 9, page 39, by Vicky Foster

I think that, when you evaluate the journey that the author has made to become the writer and mother she is today; it could be said that Vicky Foster’s ‘floors’ are indeed now pristine, for she has transformed herself from a victim of abuse into a much-acclaimed author and poet, as well as raising her children in the process, helping them navigate through that emotional minefield and emerge into adulthood. In all honesty, the accomplishment is astonishing and should be seen as a source of empowerment for any women who may have the misfortune to find themselves in a similar situation today.

‘Bathwater’ could be regarded as the literary rendition of that journey, bravely addressing the misery of abuse, acknowledging its scars but ultimately, and crucially, arriving at hope. It is, to my mind, a truly powerful piece of writing that more than earns its place in the annals of domestic abuse literature.

By Sam Bartle

(Vicky’s play was broadcast on BBC Radio 4 as part of the BBC ‘Contains Strong Language’ Festival in 2018, and you can watch her being interviewed about it on the Festival webpage .

‘Bathwater‘ by Vicky Foster is available to buy from Wrecking Ball Music and Books in Hull or online from Wrecking Ball Press . Other retailers are available online.

More information about the author herself can be found at https://vickyfoster.co.uk ).

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