Look Both Ways

Fiona Ballard

Description

Salma leant forward and readjusted the rear view mirror whilst applying her cherry pink lipstick. Now seated in the driver's seat she started the engine, her driving licence in her purse. Confirmation of a political editing post lay on the passenger seat. Yes, it had taken three years but she was proud to be behind the wheel. Briefly lost in her reverie, she recalled her journey to reach that point. Monumental changes had only strengthened her resolve to pursue her dreams, whatever the cost.

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
• Date de parution: 30 novembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781398464315
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

L ook B oth W ays
Fiona Ballard
Austin Macauley Publishers
2022-11-30
Look Both Ways About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgement Prologue Chapter 1 – The Fire Chapter 2 – Malik and Salma Chapter 3 – Abu Dhabi Chapter 4 – Wedding Talk Chapter 5 – Malik’s First Job Chapter 6 – Oman to Plymouth Chapter 7 – Heather and William Chapter 8 – Streatham to Plymouth Chapter 9 – East Meets West Chapter 10 – Slate Lane Chapter 11 – Fraud Chapter 12 – Misdemeanours Chapter 13 – Nameera Chapter 14 – Salma Fights Back Chapter 15 – Heather’s Rescue Chapter 16 – Malik Goes Missing Chapter 17 – Leila Takes Charge Chapter 18 – Who Killed Malik? Chapter 19 – Leila’s Interview Chapter 20 – Rashid’s Arrest Chapter 21 – William Takes the Hit Chapter 22 – A Job Interview Chapter 23 – Leila’s Blackmail Chapter 24 – Bribery and Corruption Chapter 25 – Grayshott Ave Chapter 26 – Salma Goes to College Chapter 27 – A New Woman Chapter 28 – Leila Returns to Oman Chapter 29 – The Grandparents Return Chapter 30 – Sardinia Epilogue Book Characters
About the Author
Fiona Ballard grew up in Hampshire, Dorset and Malaya. Family travels exposed Fiona to a plethora of cultural experiences giving her life changing skills and independence. Her writing experience began with a gift to enter a writing competition after her retirement from the NHS resulting in some positive feedback from the judges:
“The story had voice and used vivid descriptions to bring it to life.”
Her creative writing development to date includes:
www.ballardsbookshelf.com
Membership of the Portsmouth Writers Hub
Completion of Procrastinators, Beginners and Dreamers course
The Novelry Blogs with Creative Writing workshops
Member of Good Housekeeping Book Club
The potential audience for Look Both Ways might be found under drama/mystery or similar genres to Louise Candlish or John Boyne. It’s a gritty adult fiction read, full of facts but with a human story woven with threads that will resonate with many women across a global audience. Fiona has had first-hand experience of living within a multi-cultural family and this has only served to enhance her writing.
To date she has had three short stories published in anthologies and written six short stories that are collated as an eBook and paperback publications. Part of her childhood was spent living in Malaya, which has been the recent inspiration for her second book, a semi-autobiographical called Taking the Bandage . The next novel, Inscription, is due for release in spring 2023.
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this book to Mike who never lost faith. Thank you for your love and support throughout this journey.
Copyright Information ©
Fiona Ballard 2022
The right of Fiona Ballard to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781398464308 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781398464315 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published 2022
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd ®
1 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5AA
Acknowledgement
Thank you to Austin Macauley Publishers.
Prologue
Salma leant forward and readjusted the rear-view mirror, whilst putting on her cherry-pink lipstick, as the engine started. Now, seated in the driver’s seat of her new car with her first driving licence in her purse. On the passenger seat lay a confirmation letter from a political newspaper. Yes, it had taken three years but as an Omani woman she was chuffed to be behind the wheel. She hadn’t realised she had been staring into the mirror for the last ten minutes, lost in her own reverie, recalling her journey and how she had reached this point. The monumental changes she had made to her life had only served to strengthen her resolve to pursue her dreams whatever the cost.
Chapter 1 – The Fire
If you had to grab three things before hastily making an escape, what would they be: your dog, your iPhone, your keys? On the night of the fire, the ‘grab bag’ idea had never crossed the minds of the couple, Harry and Deidre, who lived next door to the inferno. Their minds were on other matters before going to sleep that night, not the subject of grabbing bags. What would Deidre’s grab bag contain anyway? A set of keys, a phone charger, a change of clothes, maybe spare glasses or contact lenses for Harry.
It certainly was the last thing on Salma’s mind as she drifted off to sleep on that chilly February night. She had gone to bed as usual, around ten o’clock, following her strict bedtime routine. The bedroom appeared a little cool as she lay down in the corner on her lumpy mattress. She slept in the dining room, and thought nothing of it, as this was a regular place of slumber. Sleeping downstairs was at her husband’s request and she only ventured to his bedroom when he desired to wreak havoc on her body, summoning her for his weekly treat. Nobody outside the house had any inkling that she was a sex slave. Salma laid down in the hope that sleep would come quickly as it helped to ease the pain. Her legs and thighs are wearisome too from a four mile walk into town to collect the school uniforms for the girls. She uses that term (aching limbs) for her cover story, a euphemism for the after-effects of a bit of rough handling at the hands of her husband. Thankfully the washed-out pillow encouraged an instant sleepiness. She curled into her regular foetal position, as her slumbers take her away into the weirdest of dreams. Floating gently for a brief moment she was back at her childhood home in Darsait. Standing opposite her in a familiar bright yellow kitchen was her grandmother, adorned with her floral apron. She looked up at Salma holding a large china mixing bowl on the faded wooden table. Peering at her face with the strangest of expressions, she held out her wooden spoon laden with a vivid pink Turkish delight mixture for her to sample. But, as she turned her head to take the spoon to her lips, she smelt burning, was the stove alight…or maybe she was dreaming? She shot back to reality as the smoke now seeped through the floorboards from upstairs. But Salma was already unconscious in a dream-like state so had not heard her young girls screaming with terror. Nor did she remember anything but blackness, her dreams all but vanished. Her vivid childhood dream now consigned to her deepest memory bank for another night.
At two in the morning the neighbours next door were rudely awoken too by the sound of a shrieking fire alarm, and the crackle of some burning timbers. This combined with a stench of dense smoke filling their house, it confirmed that, ‘YES’ the house next door was ablaze. High-pitched yelling could be clearly heard through the paper-thin party wall where Harry and Deidre were curled up in their bed, deep asleep. Cooper, the dog, was in his basket in the depths of his own crazy canine dreams that usually involve bone-shaped biscuits and chasing pesky squirrels high up into the trees at the park. But on the night in question, and totally out of character, after Harry had turned out the light, Cooper started to bark. Something odd disturbed Deidre too, was it just the dog barking or a familiar smell of burning (but this time it was not Harry’s toast) permeating her nostrils? Unsure which one had brought her to her senses first but coming out of her own deep sleep with a start, she leapt out of bed and dragged on her dressing gown and slippers, before heading out on the landing. In an instant her strident voice could be heard, yelling out instructions to Harry.
“Next door it’s on fire, there’s a smell of burning, and I can hear screaming. Quickly…we better get out NOW!” her voice moving up an octave trying not to panic, the dog now at her side.
“What? How do you know…wait a minute,” muttered Harry. “I can’t see properly, let me find my contact lenses, and I’ll need my teeth too.”
Harry stands on the landing bleary eyed, stark-naked, trying to balance on one leg whilst putting the other into his underpants.
“Why is Cooper barking?” he mumbled rubbing his eyes.
“I think it must be to do with the fire,” said Deidre, and with that the dog, who had a keen sense of smell, decided to progress from a simple bark to a loud and lengthy howl. Perhaps a warning to the other dogs in the neighbourhood that something scary and out of control was afoot.
With the clock rapidly ticking down three minutes have already passed since Deidre’s first shout out. The landing wall now felt hot to the touch.
“Come on,” the tension rising in her voice as the house started to fill with smoke from the perished seal around the loft hatch. Covering their mouths and noses in the crook of their arms to avoid any further smoke inhalation, they headed swiftly down the stairs into the hallway.
“Wait a minute, have you got the house keys? They are not hanging in the usual place?” her voice muffled by the arm of her dressing gown covering her mouth. They move apace, grabbing the dog’s lead, wrapping Cooper’s blanket over his snout. Phew the house keys are already in the lock! Oh blimey, now the front door jammed, the wooden frame swollen from all the recent rain.
“Why didn’t you fix it last week?” shri