Visions of the Heart E-Book

Julia Sutton

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

The first year at Chattlesbury University is coming to an end. Five students have become friends, and their lives are progressing both academically and personally.

Forced to mature too soon, can Will's life ever be the same again?

Crippled by personal loss, can Evelyn overcome her grief?

Secrets and revelations threaten to destroy the world that Sophie knows.

Can Juliette's growing love for one man overcome opposition from those around them?

Ann is striving for the one thing that will fulfill her personally.

Life and dreams collide in Visions of the Heart, as five characters encounter new challenges. It is an uplifting story of optimism, love, loss and the tenacity of human spirit.

Leseprobe

Visions of the Heart

Book Two of The School of Dreams Series

Julia Sutton

Copyright (C) 2017 Julia Sutton

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Next Chapter

Published 2019 by Next Chapter

Cover art by http://www.thecovercollection.com/

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to all at Next Chapter Publishing, for believing in me.

Many thanks to my family and friends for all your support and encouragement.

Finally, thanks to you the reader, I hope that you enjoy this book.

I dedicate this novel to my children: Jack and Isabel

Love you to the moon and back

Chapter One

Will Bentley was stuck in the most delicious dream. He was lying on a powder white, deserted beach, with one other person: Hema.

Above them was an azure blue, cloudless sky, where the sun beat down a ferocious heat. Close by drifted the sound of water lapping, the gentle swell of waves breaking over shimmering sand. The smell of salt and the fresh, heady aroma of the natural, unpolluted world, permeated the air. Overhead a bird swooped and dived, its body arched into a graceful crescent that cast a long shadow on the ground. A contented sigh escaped from Will's lips, he turned to his right, reaching for her hand, but she was gone, up and away, running erratically down to the majestic ocean, laughing and jumping high in the spray and the bubbling surf. And Will smiled, his eyes crinkling with pleasure at the sight of the girl he loved. She turned and beckoned him with the hook of a seductive finger, a radiant smile that pulled him to his feet and propelled him forward, towards her lithe, playful figure. Then as he was almost there, ready to dive into the crystal blue coolness beside her, he was suddenly awake, alone in a cold, small bedroom, deposited back into reality with a thud, where a clock ticked rhythmically and the chill of the morning air nipped at his bare feet.

Will tugged at the duvet with an irritated sigh, wishing himself back into dreamland, but sleep eluded him, he struggled into a slouched position, peered at the wall clock then gazed distractedly at a peeling piece of royal blue wallpaper. The February wind rattled at the window pane. It was a dreary month, where the cold and ice settled across the city of Chattlesbury like a cloak. The desk in the corner overflowed with books and paper, reminding him of university commitments; essays, deadlines and texts waiting to be read. He shook away the last remnants of sleep, rubbed at his tired eyes, then swung himself up out of the warm bed to cross the landing, pausing to listen to the soft sounds of his mother's warbling drifting up from downstairs. The bathroom door was closed firmly, the sounds of the power shower rumbling rhythmically through the woodwork. Will swung on his dressing gown then wandered downstairs. Flora was busy in the ground floor toilet, head bent and marigolds snapped firmly in place, as she scrubbed at an already gleaming, marble sink.

“Morning,” Will mumbled, as he staggered through the open door.

“Will,” she turned in surprise, “you're up early for a weekend love.” Her smile was radiant, her face brightly lit, as she surveyed her only child.

“Places to go, people to see, essays to write,” he winked playfully, “can I use the bathroom Mom?”

“Of course,” she stepped aside, then chattered away until he reappeared.

“Have a nice time son, whatever you plan on doing.”

Will nodded, averting his eyes, there was no way he could tell her he was meeting Hema. As far as his parents were concerned, that relationship was well and truly over, he didn't want them finding out that they were back together and closer than ever. Still, he felt guilty for deceiving them, especially his sweet, kind hearted Mom.

“So, what are you up to today?”

“Oh I'm busy Will, housework, shopping and uncle Evan is coming over for tea, won't that be nice?” Flora cocked her head to one side and peered up at Will, who was grimacing at the thought of his Mom's older brother. Uncle Evan was a retired army corporal and aspiring local M.P. He was short, stocky, with a penchant for shouting, intimidation and hearty back slapping. Nothing like his younger sister with her gentleness and endearing naivety. Will quickly swilled his hands, glancing in the mirror at a youthful face, lined by faint stubble and framed by a halo of wild, upright hair.

“Would you like breakfast love?” Flora enquired, “I've got some lovely Applewood smoked sausages. You can have an egg with it too.”

“Great Mom, I'm starving,” his stomach rumbled in agreement.

Flora bustled into the kitchen, chattering about the weather, how she could never get the washing dry and the expensive cost of using the tumble drier. Will perched on a stool and scrolled through Facebook. The news feed reminded him of stranger's birthdays, another celebrity death, explicit animal cruelty shots which made him shudder and pleas for donations to cancer research. Ah, but there was a cheeky status from his mate Jimmy, who was feeling fed up of having to work on a cold, Saturday morning. A girl from his old secondary school, and an aspiring model, had also posted a portfolio of half-naked selfies which had accumulated 200 likes. Not from me he thought, as he resolutely scrolled past.

“Mom, why don't you join Facebook?” Will grinned across at her, as she turned the spitting sausages.

“Now can you imagine what your Father would have to say about that.”

“None of his business I reckon,” Will retorted.

“He's a prominent head teacher Will, of a very successful Catholic primary school. How would it look if his wife began cavorting on social media?”

Will snorted with laughter, “you are allowed a life of your own. Maybe you could befriend a couple of hunky men.”

Flora chuckled along in good humour, “and maybe I could also get a tattoo.”

“On your buttocks?”

“Yes, a love heart with your Dad's initials.”

“And the Chattlesbury Football club logo on the other cheek?”

Will collapsed over the table, shoulders shaking with mirth. While Flora wiped away tears of merriment.

“What's the joke?” Max Bentley enquired, as he strode into the kitchen.

“We were just discussing the pros and cons of Facebook.”

“Worst thing ever invented,” Max replied in a firm tone, “every head teacher's nightmare. Causes problems with staff, pupils, parents, a school's reputation. I say ban it.”

Will rolled his eyes, “I am so glad I'm not going to be working in education.”

Max spun towards his son, “well, what are your employment plans then? Your Mother and I are longing to know.”

“Er, I'm still working on it.” Will ran a hand through his tousled hair, maybe winding up his Dad this early on a weekend wasn't such a good idea. He noticed Flora looking across at him, a small smile playing on her lips. She then proceeded to distract Max with subsequent chatter on household finances. Will's phone buzzed to signify a message from Hema, reminding him of their lunchtime rendezvous.

“So yes, we've managed to save a fair bit on the electricity this quarter,” Flora cracked an egg into the pan with a happy glance at her husband.

“Good,” Max grumbled, “have you seen my striped tie? It had a tea stain on, I put it in the washing basket last week.”

Flora pointed to the clothes horse wedged against the radiator. Ruby, the family Border Collie was pacing agitatedly, she paused in front of Will for a fuss, her nose was turned upwards as she frantically sniffed out the succulent smell of cooking meat.

“So, how is uni going dear?” Will frowned at his mother's question. The first year was almost over, lectures, seminars, debates and discussions, culminating in headache inducing essays, to show that it had all been understood and your own opinions of the texts formulated into a cohesive argument.

“It's flown by,” he confirmed, “I'm looking forward to the summer.”

The end of term was just a few months away. Light nights beckoned, bringing the possibility of warm sunshine and time off to relax and unwind. Although he had planned on increasing his shifts at the Student Union bar, he wanted to purchase Hema a ring, a token of his love and commitment. He'd spotted the perfect one, last week in the jeweller's window, emerald and diamonds curled into an exquisite pattern. Now he had to find out her ring size, which could be a bit tricky, but Jimmy's girlfriend Sadie had declared that she would find out for him, which was cool with Will.

“You really need to study more,” Max Bentley voiced, with a shake of his head. Droplets of water dripped from his still damp hair. “Prolific reading is the key to a successful English degree.”

“Er, wasn't your degree in Maths?” Will questioned.

“It was,” Max confirmed with a proud smile, “and let me tell you, I worked bloody hard to attain my first. Maths is straightforward, you either get it or you don't, but English, it's a tricky subject. Some people think it's easy - it's not. A lot of reading and that's just the primary texts. Then you must be proficient at writing, spelling, grammar, coherence and fluency. It's hard work.”

“You don't need to convince me; I'm living it remember.”

“So then set more time aside for study,” Max suggested, “it's three years of your life. Your mates will still be there at the end of it.”

Will knew he was right, his sensible Dad, perfection personified.

Max was pulling on his tie, adjusting it in the steamed-up mirror, “a few of my teachers are English grads, I could introduce you if you need extra help.”

“No thanks,” Will replied firmly, “I can manage.”

“Will is doing really well love,” Flora interjected, jumping to her son's defence, “he's trying his best and that's all he can do.”

“It's a competitive world out there and grades count. I wouldn't consider employing a teacher with a degree below a 2.1”

“I don't want to go into teaching,” Will snapped in anger.

“Let's discuss holidays,” Flora said brightly, “I stopped at the Travel Agents the other day, there's some super deals at the moment, with really cheap flights and you really do need a holiday love.” She peered at her husband with sympathy.

Max nodded, looking thoroughly fed up, “I am looking forward to the end of this year. It's been a tough one. Pupils behaviour is worsening and parents seem devoid of any respect and support for the teachers now-a-days.”

“Well at least it's the weekend,” Flora stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on her husband's lips, “where are you off to anyway, all spruced up?”

“St Mary's,” Max sighed.

“On a weekend? Surely it can wait until Monday?” Will raised an eyebrow at the tetchiness in his mother's tone.

“Just half a day,” Max replied curtly, “it's parents evening next week, I need to make sure that everything's organised and the PTA are holding a meeting this morning, so I want to keep an eye on things, otherwise they'll be running me down like the rest of the staff do.” He bit into a cold piece of toast, which had been intended for the dog.

“What's the PTA?” Will asked with a yawn.

Flora answered for him, “it's the Parent Teacher Association dear. There are some very outspoken ladies in it, that seem to enjoy making your Dad's life even more difficult.”

“Oh. Why do you stick it there?” Will grumbled, “no job is worth this constant hassle, surely.”

“My job pays for this house and your education,” Max snapped irritably, “besides I'm not about to let a gang of bitter, stressed out teachers and a bunch of menopausal PTA members run me out of a career.”

“Whatever!” Will's eyes lit up at the sight of the oozing sandwich heading his way.

“Can't your deputy take some of the burden dear?” Flora piped up, ever helpful.

Max's top lip curled in disdain, “Marcia Bent is a nutcase, admittedly a very educated one at that. I've had so many staff threaten to file a grievance against her, it's a miracle she's still in employment. Parents are terrified of her. Even the priest hides behind the font when she's around.”

Flora clutched at her bosom, “Father McGregor? But he's such a lovely man.”

“I know!” Max agreed, “but one surly look from that woman could turn water to ice.”

“Sack her then,” Will commented, as he wiped a blob of runny egg from his chin.

Max laughed, “it really is a good job you're not going into teaching my lad. I really wish it were that simple. She's a governor Will and has a lot of influence within the school. Her husband is a solicitor, specialising in employment law. Then there's the Unions – don't get me started on them. I've tried to get rid of her before, but she managed to wheedle out of it and all the other staff are too busy watching their own backs to lend me a hand, or to support a bullied colleague. No, I've got to wait until she does something really malicious.”

“Sounds like a bitch to me,” Will concluded.

“What a thoroughly nasty person,” Flora was shocked by the revelations, “and in a religious school too.”

“You'll find her at church every Sunday,” Max revealed with a shake of his head.

“Yeah, she must think that if she prays for forgiveness, then her behaviours okay.” Will was reminded yet again why he no longer attended church. He thought of Hema and her religion. Karma seemed a pretty cool ideology to him.

Flora rubbed at her reddening throat, “well Will, there are a lot of truly good people attend church too you know.”

Will looked across at his mother, noting her fingers hovering over her gold cross pendant.

“Yes I know Mom,” he sighed, “you're an absolute angel.”

“Exactly,” Max snapped, “don't tar us all with the same brush. Anyway, what I personally think of the staff is irrespective. As long as they do their job, then I'm happy.”

“Don't work too hard dear,” Flora admonished gently, “I'll have a nice lunch waiting for you when you get home.”

“Oh?” Max brightened at the prospect of food.

“Crusty cobs, your favourite,” she beamed, “do you want two saving Will? I've bought some of that crumbly, extra mature cheddar you love.”

“Maybe tomorrow Mom, I'm off out for lunch with mates,” Will hated lying to Flora, but Hema had insisted there was no other way for them to be together. Their relationship had to remain a secret. He noticed Max lingering by the door, with a suspicious look on his face.

“Don't forget your briefcase,” he mumbled to his Dad.

“Have a good day,” Max nodded, then strode from the room.

Will lobbed the last remaining piece of sausage into Ruby's metallic bowl and bounded up the stairs for a revitalising shower, a couple of hours' study and then a lie on the bed, with his iPod blasting Arctic Monkeys. Soon enough it was mid-day, he stood in the kitchen staring despondently out at the lashing rain.

“Do you want a lift son?” Flora enquired.

She dropped him on the outskirts of the city centre, waving and tooting cheerfully as she chugged off up the street. Will jogged towards the bank, swerving around lines of shoppers clutching umbrellas. The bad weather could not dull his spirits, he felt happy and excited to see her. To hold her in his arms and hear her chattering about her day. He could see her now, leaning against a high wall, shielding her head with a large, shiny bag, as she looked for him, searching the crowds of people. As he neared her, he slowed his pace, appreciating her striking beauty, thoughts of kissing her full lips and staring into her honey golden eyes distracted him, so he was clumsily tripping over his own feet. He could see a range of emotions flickering across her visage; anxiety, trepidation and genuine fear. A lump rose into his throat, as thoughts of her strict parents niggled at him. Then she spotted him and a small, sweet smile wiped away the other emotions and quelled his own sense of anxiety.

“Hema,” he panted breathlessly as he strode to meet her, “are you okay?”

“We need to talk,” her reply was soft, but direct.

“What's wrong?” He grasped her hand, pulling her towards him.

Gently she shrugged him off, “not here.”

Will followed her through the crowds, down a deserted alleyway and into a quaint tea shop.

They sank down at a table covered in pretty red and white gingham. A smiling waitress jotted down their order, then retreated to leave them alone, silently facing each other. Will moved the vase of flowers to one side and reached across to take her hand.

“Would you like a muffin to go with your tea?” Hema asked in a high pitch, that was different from her usual subdued tones.

Will nodded, feeling a little bemused at the strained atmosphere that surrounded them.

She called across to the busy waitress, “two blueberry muffins please.”

Will leant forward in his seat, attempting to catch her eye, but Hema was looking anywhere but at him.

What on earth had got into her? He thought with agitation, as her beautiful eyes flickered around the café. At the table next to them a baby wailed and a harassed looking mother lifted it onto her lap, making cooing noises as she did. Hema's gaze fixated on the child, then she pulled her hand away sharply.

“Is it your family?” Will enquired, “have they found out about us again?”

Hema shook her head firmly.

“Thank God,” Will breathed a sigh of relief, running a terse hand through his floppy hair.

“Do you love me Will?” The question rattled him and he gaped at her with surprise.

“Here you go,” the waitress chirped cheerfully, as she set two china cups and a plate of cakes down in front of them.

Will waited until she had moved away before replying, “of course I do, you know I do.

Hema spooned sugar into her drink, not looking convinced.

“Are you ill?” He quizzed, “Talk to me!”

There was silence. Will sighed and relaxed back in his seat. The door pinged open, a lady with a metal zimmer frame plodded inside. She looked wet through and thoroughly fed up.

“Looks like it's still raining,” Will commented, wondering why he was talking about the weather. Hema chewed her bottom lip, staring at the rivulets of water trickling down the misted window pane.

“Fancy a movie night tonight? There's a new Brad Pitt film out and I've heard he wears nothing more than a loin cloth in it,” he winked salaciously at her and was rewarded by a curve of her mouth. “Then we could grab a pizza after, maybe drop in and watch Jimmy play pool, Sadie should be there, you could have a good girly ch…”

“I'm pregnant.”

Two whispered words and Will felt his world crumbling apart.

For a split second he felt he was freefalling, the air rushed from his lungs, the colour drained from his cheeks. He thought he must have misheard her, a slip of the tongue maybe, a cruel joke. Anytime now she would burst into laughter, point across at him and giggle, “gotcha.” But she did none of those things. Hema sat perfectly still, like an impassive statue, a beautiful work of art.

“What?” He scratched his head in bewildered denial.

“I'm having your baby Will.”

Now there were more words. A confirmation. Bloody hell, was this a dream?

Heat coursed through his body as he stared at her, open mouthed, dazed and shocked.

“Are you okay?” Hema asked, with a frown.

“But wh-what…how?” The words stuttered from his mouth, louder then he intended.

A few of the other diners paused to stare his way, interest piqued.

Hema's lips pursed into a thin line. She folded her arms across her chest in a defensive gesture, turning her face away from him.

Silence stretched between them. Then suddenly a soft, furry rattle landed on their table, jolting them both from their reverie. Will looked down at a chubby, red face, flailing fists, the sounds of an angry child in mid rant. Oh.My.God!

He took a slug of lukewarm tea and let out a long shaky breath. Hema meanwhile was picking apart her muffin, arranging the pieces in an intricate pattern on the plate.

“Are you sure?”

Her head snapped back to face him. For the first time ever, her usually molten eyes were stone cold.

“Two positive tests, 99% accurate, I'm sure.”

Will rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes momentarily.

“We were so careful.”

“Then there's the morning sickness, the constant fatigue, the strange metallic taste I have in my mouth right now actually.”

“But you haven't mentioned feeling unwell, why didn't you say something?”

“Technically speaking I'm not unwell,” Hema snapped, “I just presumed it was too much indulgence at Christmas, the time of year. Everyone feels shitty in February right?”

“This must be a mistake,” Will decided, “we used contraception, we were so careful.” He was genuinely puzzled by the anger emanating from her. “We'll go to the doctors and he will confirm that the test was wrong. Everything will be okay.”

“It's not a mistake Will, I can feel it, my body is changing.”

Will gaped, “you look the same.”

Hema rolled her eyes, “no contraception is totally safe, you know that Will. How many times did they drum that into us at school? Remember old battle-axe Brookes preaching that to abstain from all sexual activity was the most effective form of contraception.” She tittered, then her eyes filled with tears, “we obviously weren't careful enough. Maybe we were carried away in the heat of the moment. I don't know,” she shrugged with resignation, “it's too late now to ponder on the whys and how's, it's here, this is real and it's happening right now!”

She jumped to her feet, burst into a flood of tears and loud sobbing, then fled away, out of the café, leaving Will alone shouting her name in desperation, panic and utter fear.

Chapter Two

As the rain petered away and the sun broke through the hazy clouds, Evelyn traipsed out into the garden, relieved to be out of the stuffy house. All morning she had been cooped inside, cleaning, tidying, sorting old clothes into charity bags for the less fortunate. She stood on the wet lawn, trying to decide which area to tackle first.

“Nice day for ducks,” commented her neighbour.

Evelyn smiled at the sight of his bald head peeking above the fence panel.

“It sure is Ted.”

“How's Nora? I haven't seen her about much this winter.”

Evelyn frowned at the mention of her mam, “She's not been too good Ted. Can't seem to shift this nasty cold.”

“That would be the jet stream I reckon. This country is getting milder and milder. Bugs are festering like crazy. It's just not cold like it used to be. The winters of my youth, well they were bad, but they sure killed the germs. Now it's all tropical like and the central heating and disinfectants don't help do they lass?”

“I suppose not,” Evelyn agreed, “although Mam is ninety-seven, so it is to be expected that her health is going to deteriorate one day.”

“Well give her my love lass. I best get back to work. Her indoors has a chore list for me as long as her arm.”

Evelyn waved him off, then pulled open the dilapidated shed door, searching for garden tools.

She set about pruning the heads off a patch of wilting winter border flowers and was humming softly, when she heard an almighty crash emanate from the house. She sprang to her feet, dropping the secateurs, rushing back up the sloping garden to tug on the sliding doors.

“Mam,” she called, frantic with worry.

Nora was still in the lounge where she had left her, slumped in a velour flecked chair, staring despondently down at a shattered tumbler and a pool of spreading water.

“Are you okay Mam?” Evelyn squat down next to her.

“I don't seem to have much energy this morning. Sorry dear.”

“You don't need to apologise Mam, it's fine, don't worry,” Evelyn pulled strips of tissue from a nearby balancing box and began mopping at the sodden floor.

Nora was wracked by a sudden coughing fit that had her whole body heaving and her hands clutching at the arm rests.

“I think a call to Doctor Dunn is in order Mam,” Evelyn placed a hand across her forehead, shocked to feel the hot clamminess. Her countenance was grey and pallid, the usual florid hue from her cheeks was missing.

“I really don't want to make a fuss,” Nora protested weakly.

“Shush,” Evelyn soothed, as she wiped gently at her mam's wet mouth, “you're not well.”

“I just need a good sleep,” Nora replied, as her eyes fluttered closed.

“I'll get some more water, then make a quick call,” Evelyn straightened, knees cracking as she did, then rushed off down the hall, reciting the number for the surgery.

Doctor Dunn was swathed in a long, grey rain mac, with expensive looking spectacles hanging from a chain around his neck and a fancy looking pen wedged firmly behind his ear. Evelyn almost pulled him through the entrance, she was so relieved to see him.

“Come in,” she mumbled, ushering him inside.

Mam's eyes flickered open as he strode towards her.

“Well now Nora, what have you been up to?”

“Can't get rid of this blasted cough,” she spluttered, “I hope I haven't taken you away from your family.”

“I'm always available for my favourite patient,” he assured her smoothly, as he delved inside a sturdy doctor's bag.

“How long has she been like this?” He asked Evelyn, who was hovering nearby, a worried frown on her face.

“Since early morning, but she has got progressively worse.”

The doctor nodded, “I'm just going to listen to your chest Nora.”

She slumped back as he explored with his stethoscope.

“Can you help me lift her forward?” He motioned to Evelyn, then together they bent her slightly in the chair so he could check her back.

“Any pains in your chest?”

Nora nodded, clutching her bosom with a wince.

“Okay lovely lady,” he patted her hand gently, “you need a little bit of help to get you better. I'm going to call for an ambulance to take you to the hospital.”

Nora's eyes widened in consternation.

“I'll be with you Mam,” Evelyn reassured her, choking back the lump of emotion.

Doctor Dunn left the room to make the emergency call and Evelyn sprang into action, rushing around to pack a small holdall with toiletries, a warm woollen dressing gown and a Mills and Boon novel. The ambulance was soon tearing down the street, sirens wailing. Evelyn stood to one side, fighting back the tears, as two young paramedics jogged into the room and secured Nora to a stretcher.

“She's never been in hospital,” Evelyn whispered to Doctor Dunn, “not even to have me, she'll be frightened.”

“They will take good care of her,” the doctor replied, “they're good people, try not to worry.”

Evelyn clutched Mam's hand as they headed up the path. Neighbours congregated at the edge of their picket fence, murmuring in hushed tones and watching with sympathy as they loaded her into the vehicle. The kind paramedic pulled Evelyn up into the ambulance, pushing her onto an antiseptic smeared seat.

After an energetic whizz across the city, Nora was wheeled into an assessment room, where a doctor and a nurse were waiting.

Evelyn paced outside, fumbling in her bag for some change to purchase a cup of lukewarm, watery tea. She stared down a long corridor which tapered off into numerous cubicles. The sounds of a child sobbing could be heard, the bellowing of an inebriated youth as two porters grappled with him. The minutes seemed to tick by interminably slow. As a distraction, she read a wall poster which listed the benefits of hand washing, underneath it was a sink and disinfectant soap. Evelyn crossed to clean her hands, while around her bustled numerous hospital workers. Their rubber shoes squeaked annoyingly loud as they rushed to and fro. The smell of cleaning fluid hung in the air, an invisible cloud, heavy and cloy. Magazines protruded from a wall rack, she pulled one out and speed read through it, the words swam in front of her, blurry and indistinct. It was futile trying to concentrate on Sabrina and Tom's magnificent competition wedding win in the Seychelles. She snapped it shut, just as an exhausted looking nurse appeared from Mam's cubicle.

“The doctor will be with you shortly,” her name tag informed Evelyn she was called Sonia.

Evelyn nodded a thank you, then drained the remains of her drink. She straightened her shoulders, preparing herself for bad news.

“Ms Cooke?”

“Yes.” Evelyn turned to stare expectantly at a small, jolly looking lady, with ruddy cheeks and flaxen hair.

“I'm Doctor Flavell,” she held out a hand in a friendly greeting, “I've assessed your mother.”

Evelyn's spirits sank as she noted the doctors sympathetic frown.

“I'm sorry to inform you that Nora has pneumonia, she does need to be admitted straight away.”

Evelyn felt a tremble begin in her hands and raised them to her mouth in shock. “She will be okay though?” Evelyn searched the other ladies countenance for signs of hope.

“We are doing all we can, but I must tell you that your mother is very poorly. We have started her on a course of strong antibiotics and I've arranged for a chest x-ray. Would you like to see her briefly before we take her up to the ward?”

“Oh Mam,” Evelyn sighed with emotion at the sight of Nora, looking weak and frail in the hospital bed. “I love you,” she murmured, as she bent to plant a tender kiss on her cheek.

Beneath the oxygen mask, Mam's lips lifted to form a small smile. “Don't forget to pay the milkman and the paperboy and let Jacob know where I am dear.” Nora rasped, her chest shaking with the effort of speaking.

“Shush, just concentrate on getting better,” Evelyn took her hand and squeezed it gently.

The nurse led her out of the cubicle, “we'll take good care of her,” she said with a kind smile.

As Mam was wheeled away, up the dimly lit corridor, Evelyn was overcome with a feeling of dread, the hairs on the back of her neck pricked up, goose bumps covered her arms and she felt an irrational urge to run after the retreating figures and to fling her arms around Nora and never let go.

Chapter Three

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Josh and Jake, happy birthday to you!” Sophie stood in the kitchen, arms wide and face beaming, as she greeted her twin boys. “Nine years ago you were tiny, tiny babies. Now look at you, all growing up.”

Josh rubbed at sleepy eyes, while Jake hitched up the trousers of his too large pyjamas.

The kitchen floor was covered with presents, cards, brightly coloured streamers and shiny balloons which floated about and drove the dogs into a complete tizz.

“Stop that!” Sophie tapped the Labrador's shiny snout as he skittered around with excitement.

“This is awesome,” Josh decided, as he fell to his knees and began inspecting tags, “even better than Christmas. Here,” he handed a large rectangle to his younger brother by ten minutes.

Jake, the quieter twin shook the gift, before tearing the paper off and adding it to the growing heap in the centre of the room.

“Wowee,” he exclaimed, as he gazed in delight at the limited edition Star Wars Lego set.

There was a creak from the door that had the dogs bounding over to investigate. Ryan O'Neill staggered into the kitchen, stretching a muscular torso, hips and legs covered by a snugly fit pair of pyjamas bottoms.

“Happy birthday lads,” he boomed.

“Dad, dad. Look, a skateboard,” Josh skidded towards him, grinning with delight.

“Cool,” Ryan ruffled his hair then glanced at Sophie, “any coffee on the go?”

“Just made some Mr O'Neill,” Heidi their housekeeper interjected, as she stumbled out of the utility, carrying an armful of laundry.

“Cheers love,” he winked playfully, causing a red flush to stain the older lady's cheeks.

“Here, let me,” Heidi dumped the freshly washed clothes into the ironing basket, before hurrying across to pour Ryan's coffee, just as he liked it.

“The club has been on the phone,” Sophie whispered, drawing Ryan away from the boys, “something about a commitment that you made to open a charity fun day?”

“Oh man,” Ryan clamped his hand across his mouth, “I totally forgot. Yeah, I promised them babes.”

“It's your sons' birthday,” hissed Sophie, “how could you forget?”

“It's for charity,” Ryan protested, taking a loud slurp of coffee, “it won't take long babe. Just a quick speech and maybe a few autographs, I'll be back in a flash and Del can come with me, keep the crowds in order.”

Sophie grimaced at the mention of 'Del', aka Derek, their multi-talented gardener. He was a decent enough bloke, but whose loyalty to Ryan could be rather overbearing at times. Sophie felt she was constantly vying for Ryan's attention, whenever Del was around.

“He's our gardener, not your bodyguard,” Sophie shook her head and sighed with resignation. “Make sure you're not long then, I need you back home to help supervise things.”

“I'll be super speedy. I'm doing it for the disadvantaged kids honey,” Ryan's voice took on a whining tone, his eyes wide, looking for sympathy. Sophie softened, he knew how much she loved children.

“Fair enough,” she mumbled, as he held her in a bear like vice and began nibbling her ear.

Inwardly she was fretting over all the organising that today's magnificent party had entailed. Her stomach was flipping with worry and she had been up half the night planning what to do if the weather turned bad. Maybe a trip to the Wacky Warehouse or McDonalds would have been more sensible, Sophie surmised. Then a glance out of the window showed the promise of a sunny day, which lifted her spirits and allayed the pangs of creeping doubt. Hopefully it would be just perfect for all the outdoor activities which she had planned. And Jules was coming; funny, sweet, kind Juliette, her university buddy and confidante. That alone was enough to instil happiness and excitement.

“Wowzers Mom, Dad, look, a candyfloss machine from uncle Del.”

Sophie mustered a grin, while silently cursing the sugar overloaded, rotten teeth inducing present. Maybe she could place it into strategic hiding, somewhere dark and cobwebby that the twins would be too frightened to search. No such luck, they were slitting open the box in excitement and ferreting around for instructions.

“Can we have candyfloss for breakfast…please?”

“Urm, er,” Sophie tried not to be swayed by two cherubic, upturned faces.

“There's a candyfloss machine!” She erupted with glee, “coming later, when the party starts.”

“Awesome,” both boys shouted in sync.

“I'll make some homemade pancakes for you,” Heidi said with a fond look their way, “you can have syrup and lemon juice with them, your favourite.” Sophie threw her housekeeper a smile of gratitude.

“I love candyfloss,” Ryan high fived them and Sophie wondered who really was the biggest kid.

“Mr O'Neill, what about your figure?” Heidi tutted good naturedly.

“What this?” He lifted his t-shirt to reveal a set of impressive pectorals, “all paid for by Chattlesbury FC. They're mega firm, would you like a feel?”

Heidi had the grace to blush, while looking anxiously at Sophie.

“Take no notice of him,” Sophie laughed, with a roll of her eyes, “it takes him hours in the gym to look that way.”

“Hey, hey, I'm a natural beauty!” With a cheeky wink, Ryan disappeared up the stairs to get ready, with the dogs chasing and yelping after him.

“Well, I suppose we had better tidy up,” Sophie surveyed the wrapping paper debris and began stuffing it into black refuse sacks.

“How many gifts have you had?” Heidi asked, as Josh and Jake finally opened the remaining parcels.

“Twenty-seven! Each!” Josh cried triumphantly.

“Oh my, you are lucky, lucky boys,” Heidi commented.

Sophie knew that their housekeeper adored the boys and had not intended to chastise them, but still, Sophie felt irked. Once again she had gone completely over the top, it was the same for every birthday and Christmas. There were way too many and there was still more to come.

“I forgot how many I had bought,” Sophie muttered with embarrassment.

Heidi shrugged, “If you can afford it why not. They are lovely boys Mrs O'Neill, so polite and kind, you don't need to how you say, expose?”

“Explain,” Sophie corrected, “thank you.”

While the boys grappled with new skateboards and Heidi started on the washing up, Sophie consulted her to-do lists. She pondered on how many children would be coming today. Truthfully she had lost count. There was the whole of Josh and Jake's class for a start, then a large group of the younger village kids were expected, as well as a few moody teenagers. She also suspected that Ryan had been inviting some of his footballer buddies, along with their families. Oh well, she sighed, better just get on with it. The doorbell chimed and Sophie hurried through to the hallway. Sophie's mom, Yvonne, stood on the doorstep, posing in a long, fur, winter coat, her eyes shielded by oval sunglasses.

“Morning babes,” she air kissed her daughter's cheeks, “are you sure it's a good idea to have an outdoor party? It's blooming cold.”

Sophie tutted at her mother's air of negativity, “of course I'm sure. Look, it's going to be a beautiful day.” She pointed at a bright, rising sun, “besides, I have fifty rain macs on loan from the Disney store, just in case.”

“What about the grown-ups?” Yvonne persisted, “I've just had my hair styled.”

“There's an adult tent for us all to shelter in,” bit back Sophie, “come in and see your grandchildren.”

They traipsed back into the kitchen, where the twins paused their game of fling the frisbee, to catapult themselves instead at their Nan.

“Woah!” Yvonne laughed, hugging them tight, “darlings, I have an extra special surprise for you.” She clapped her hands in delight, “come with me. You too.” She winked at a puzzled Sophie, then took the boys hands, leading them outside to the huge driveway. There was nothing there, except for a small selection of gleaming sports cars.

“We're ready,” Yvonne yelled.

The rumbling sound of an engine could be heard emanating from behind the large hedge, then two long haired youths appeared, driving what looked like quad bikes.

“Wh-what?” Sophie stared open mouthed, as they performed circles on the drive, before coming to rest in front of Josh and Jake.

“Happy birthday darlings,” Yvonne drawled, with a proud smile, “go on, have a go, they're yours now.” Yvonne looked as if she were going to explode with excitement.

Josh and Jake whooped with delight, flinging themselves at the throbbing machines.

“Helmets,” screeched Sophie, as she clutched her throat with worry. The two youths duly plonked safety headgear on the twins, strapping them securely and giving them a pep talk on the basic mechanics of the bikes. Then they were off, careering around the drive, skidding and twisting, spluttering mud and gravel everywhere.

“I feel faint,” Sophie mumbled.

“What's wrong with you. It's an excellent present, you should be pleased,” Yvonne sniffed, “don't be such a killjoy.”

Sophie turned on her mother, eyes blazing, “you should have told me. Aren't they a little young for quad bikes? Besides the safety implications, they must have cost a fortune. It's too much Mom.”

“Bah!” Yvonne turned her nose up, “the man in the shop said they're all the rage now and it's my inheritance money, so I can do whatever I like with it.” Sophie had almost forgotten that her mom was loaded and had never worked a day in her life. Money was like a turned on tap for the Fletchers, ever flowing and taken a lot for granted.

“Make sure you're careful,” Sophie yelled, as Josh and Jake disappeared out the drive, to begin spinning around the cul-de-sac.

“Don't worry Mrs O'Neill, we'll watch them,” the gangly youth and his friend lumbered after them, shouting 'brakes' and 'slow down'.

Sophie spent the next half hour peering after them, gasping each time they bounced off the kerb or narrowly missed a tree trunk. There were no cars parked in the street, of that Sophie was thankful, but still, her nails dug into her palm each time they manoeuvred a tricky bend.

“Best present ever,” chirruped Jake, as he pulled to a shuddering stop, almost flattening his nan's toes.

Sophie breathed a shaky sigh of relief, as she snatched the keys from the ignition, “that's enough for today boys.”

Josh jumped from the vehicle, high kicking with excitement, “wow, thanks Nan. Totally awesome!”

Ryan had surfaced from his male beauty administrations, looking gorgeous and smelling like a male perfume counter. His verdict on the quad bikes was predictably positive.

“Me and you later Del eh?” He slapped the gardeners back.

“You're on!” Del replied, as he climbed into Ryan's new Audi R8.

“See you later baby,” Ryan hugged Sophie tightly, his hands lingering over her buttocks.

“Don't be long,” warned Sophie, “or I'll send Mom after you.”

Ryan chucked her under the chin, “it's a promise.”

Then with a salacious wink he was gone, zooming away, sunglasses snapped firmly in place, leaving a trail of billowing dust.

Sophie glanced at her Mom and let out a resigned sigh, “it is a fantastic present, thank you. Now come on, you can help me prepare for the kid's party of the century and boy have we got a lot to do.”

* * *

By early afternoon the garden had been transformed into every child's fantasy; a world of wonder and delight. Sophie and Yvonne had struggled to open the double gates which led into the back garden, allowing a fleet of brightly painted vans to set up position near the patio. There were vehicles selling all sorts of delicious, child friendly foods: ice-cream in an assortment of flavours, candyfloss and sweets, hot dogs and burgers, chips and pizza.

“The kids are going to love this,” Yvonne commented, as they watched them preparing their counters.

“It's not very healthy,” conceded a worried Sophie, “but look, there is a jacket potato van.”

“I think that's more for the adults,” laughed Yvonne, “don't stress honey, it's just for one day, they can have salad for the rest of the week.”

Then came the bouncy castle, the crazy golf, the face painters and the balloon artists. The last people to arrive were the circus folk – clowns, acrobats, jugglers and extremely tall men walking on stilts. Josh and Jake tore around the huge garden, not sure what to do first.

“Bouncy castles ready love,” a burly man shouted over the noise of the disco music.

The twins dived on and began performing a competitive series of high kicks, forward rolls and belly splats.

“Nan, nan, come on, have a go.”