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Life written up

Novel Extract

Here is Chapter One of my novel - ‘Change of Life’. 

Readers – want to read more? I self-published it and it’s available on Amazon and from bookshops.

Literary agent or publisher – I’m seeking representation and publication – feel free to get in touch…

 

Copyright  © Text Anne Stormont

The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

 All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

 

‘Change of Life’

 Sweet Sorrow

 Chapter One

Rosie

 I didn’t see the boy until the moment of impact. He slammed into the side of the car as I reversed out of the driveway. I got a fright – thought I’d hurt someone – but I couldn’t have guessed that this was merely a foreshock to a much greater upheaval. Ten past one, lunch time, Tuesday 17th May – it was the moment when the past caught up and collided with the present.

    I got out to check he wasn’t hurt. He glanced at me and turned to run.

    He was about Adam’s age, seventeen or so. There was something familiar about him. But I didn’t think I knew him. Ours was a small community and with four children of my own, I thought I knew most of the local young people – at least by sight.

    “Wait, are you all right?” I caught his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

    He didn’t appear to be injured. He was taller than me, with untidy, dark hair and very deep brown eyes. In one ear he wore a little silver skull. I recognised his tee shirt. Adam had one just like it. It had the words ‘Subliminal Messages’ written across it – the name of a Slipknot  album. As the boy pulled his arm back he seemed to hesitate.

    “Do I know you?” I said. “Are you a friend of Adam’s?”

    He looked me in the eyes for a moment. I stared back. Something passed between us; was it recognition? Then he bolted – obviously uninjured.

    I didn’t have time to speculate about the boy. I’d only nipped home for lunch and a catch up with Ruby. I needed to get back.

    I got the last space in the school car park. I was hurrying towards the main entrance when my mobile rang. I answered it as I went inside. It was the hospital. My stomach tightened.

    “Hello, Mrs McAllister. This is Mr Campbell’s secretary. He’s asked me to set up an appointment for you to come and discuss your test results.”

The voice was warm, friendly even. But I still had an awful feeling of dread.

    “He could see you on Thursday at three.”

    “Oh, yes, right, Thursday…” My mind whirred through Thursday’s schedule. I’d need to get off early. Kirsty, my head teacher and one of my closest friends, would have to cover my class. What would I tell her? I wondered if the doctor needed to see you if it was good news. He could tell you over the phone, surely. It must mean bad news…

    “So is that all right then, Thursday at three, with Mr Campbell?”

    “Sorry, yes. Is it bad news do you know? I mean, why else would he be bothering?”

    “You mustn’t jump to conclusions, Mrs McAllister. He’d want to see you either way. Try not to worry and we’ll see you in a couple of days.”

     As the call ended, the bell rang for the start of afternoon lessons. My life went on, even as its bedrock heaved and shifted beneath me.

 Tom

 It’s Sunday morning. Rosie only met him on Tuesday. Is it really only a few days ago? In less than a week my life has fallen apart – no that’s wrong – it fell apart in a moment – in the time it took a boy to speak a sentence. And now my wife is leaving and my heart is broken. 

    It’s the 22nd of May, but it feels more like November. I’m standing at the living-room window. It’s raining and the sea and sky are slate grey, the horizon obliterated. I feel leaden, unable to move or speak; it’s the paralysis of a nightmare. I want to beg her to stay, to admit she’s being silly and overreacting. 

    Rosie and our nineteen year old daughter, Sam, load bags and boxes into Rosie’s car. Toby is watching them, barking occasionally. I know I should go out to her and fight to make her change her mind but I’m exhausted, I’m drowning. I’m engulfed in the aftermath of more anger than I’ve ever felt towards her.

    I hear the dull thud of the boot closing. It’s done. She’s ready to go. Our younger daughter, Jenny, sprints down the driveway, jacket held above her head, and says something to Rosie. Then Max dashes from the house and hands his mother a piece of paper. She looks at it and smiles and they hug each other. She puts the paper down on the driver’s seat and closes the door. They all come back in and head for the kitchen.

    Jenny calls out, “Dad, Adam, coffee.”

    A few moments later I hear Adam coming downstairs and going along to the kitchen. I know he’s not happy about his mother leaving, but at least he’s able to join the others for a coffee before she goes.

    I make it to the sofa. I find that I want to cry. This terrifies me. I struggle not to lose my grip, not to howl and kick and scream. I’m Tom McAllister, consultant heart surgeon – professional, practical, in control. Or so I thought. I didn’t intend any of this to happen. I’m helpless, lost. I haven’t felt this vulnerable or alone since I was a child. I find I’m rocking, curled up, my head wrapped in my arms. I force myself to sit up, to keep breathing.

    When I fail to appear in the kitchen, Jenny comes to get me.

    “Come on Dad, come and have a coffee. I’ve made a carrot cake and it looks scrummy, even if I say so myself. Come and say cheerio to Mum.”

    “I can’t. How can you be so cheerful?”

    Jenny puts her hand on my arm, “Och, Dad, she just needs a bit of a break.” She hesitates and gives my arm a squeeze. “And she needs to get over how cross she is with you.”   

    “So she says, Jenny. So she says – but I can’t come and say goodbye as if she was simply going away for a few days holiday. I don’t understand how she can go.”

    “If we all understand, why can’t you? Even Adam’s there to say goodbye. Come and wish her well, Dad, and tell her you’ll be here waiting for her. She needs you to say that.”

    I stand up and hug Jenny. Seventeen and so grown up. The children are behaving better than me. I feel even more ashamed and desperate. “I can’t do it. I can’t give any of this my blessing.”

    Jenny walks away. With her long blonde hair and slight frame, she looks and moves like her mother. At the door she turns and says, “It’s not your blessing she wants.”

 Rosie

 It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Yet it feels like the right thing. This is about my survival and I know I can’t stay. It’s a wet Sunday morning in May. The weather gives the day a heavy, washed-out feeling and it mirrors my mood perfectly. I’m sitting at the kitchen table. My children are with me.

    “So, I can come and see you in two weeks?” Max asks.

    “Yes, like I said, I’ll have had a good rest by then and Grandma will bring you to Edinburgh for a visit.”

    “I’ll miss you, Mum.” Max puts down his glass of milk and comes to hug me. I cling to him, glad that, at twelve years old, he doesn’t yet feel too old for such displays.

    “I’ll miss you too. But two weeks will pass quickly and then, in the summer holidays, you can come and stay as much as you want.”

    “That’s a great picture you did for Mum, Maxy.” Jenny rubs her wee brother’s back. “You could do more for her while she’s away – like a sort of picture diary of what you’re up to – use the sketch book Uncle Dan gave you for your birthday.”

    “Mm yeh, I suppose.”

    “You could start now – draw us all here at the table.”

    Max considers then nods. “I’ll go and get my stuff.”

    I smile my gratitude at Jenny.

    Sam gets up from the table. “I need to go. My shift starts at twelve.”

    I get up too. “Sam,” I say, holding my arms out towards her.

    She shakes her head. “I still don’t get it, Mum. I’m trying to, but I don’t. I think if you just talked to Dad, you could sort it.”

    I drop my arms. I can’t look at her. Then she’s over and holding me in a tight embrace. “Go if you have to, but come back soon,” she whispers. Then she’s gone.

    I know I should go too. There’s no point prolonging this. I glance at Adam. He’s staring into his coffee mug. Max comes back with his sketch book and pencils.

    “How can I do my picture if Sam’s gone?”

    “I better get on my way.” I smile apologetically at him.

    “You can still put Mum and Sam in the picture, Max,” says Jenny. “Even if they’re not here – you’re a good enough artist.”

    Max nods and lays his things on the table.

    I hug Jenny. “Thanks for the making the cake, it was a lovely thought.”

    She smiles. “Come on, Adam, let’s see Mum off.” Jenny places a hand on her twin brother’s shoulder. He shrugs it off.

    Max takes my hand. At first Adam doesn’t move. Then he gets up and stands, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders hunched. He’s facing me, eyes downcast.

    “Bye then, Adam. I meant what I said. I’m really sorry.” I will him to look at me. He shrugs and walks past me, head down. I hear him stomping up the stairs.

    As I walk down the hall with Jenny and Max, I glance at the closed living room door. I wonder if Tom will say goodbye. I wonder if I should go in. I can’t face it. The shock and anger that I’ve felt for the last few days have hardly abated. Tom has betrayed me. His secret’s out.

    As I get into the car I glance back at the house. The Victorian villa’s sandstone walls are darkened by the rain. It’s been my home for nearly twenty years. I love everything about it – its seaside situation in Gullane, one of East Lothian’s prettiest villages, its large, light rooms, its period quirks and the memories we’ve made there. I shall miss it almost as much as the people inside it. I see Tom at the living room window, watching. I think he’s about to wave or beckon me back. He turns away.

    The appearance of Robbie in our lives has changed everything. And on top of that I now have a dreadful secret of my own.

2 thoughts on “Novel Extract

  1. Hi Anne, This extract from your novel is fantastic although I’m torn by wanting to read more and fearing the tale may bet too sad although from your blog things are working out ok. I shall be investing in your novel in the not so distant future to see where the story goes though

    Kate x

    • Hi Kate, I’m delighted you like the taster of the novel enough to buy the whole thing. Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy it – and thanks for taking the time to let me know.

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