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Tell us a bit about yourself ..... Hi, I'm Isla a 30 something lady looking for friendship and maybe more. I'm arty, fun loving and a wee bit quirky, in a good way of course! I love music, painting, yoga, art exhibitions, good food, excellent wine, fabulous company and candlelight! What are you looking for? Someone who doesn't take themself too seriously. A kind, honest and genuine guy hopefully with similar interests to share all the good things that life has to offer. Let's just see what happens, I thought, a new sense of self worth and optimism growing inside. I clicked submit.... Nothing could have prepared Isla for what lay ahead

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Publié par
Date de parution 19 octobre 2018
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781789012712
Langue English
Poids de l'ouvrage 1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0150€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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KIND
Lily Llewellyn
Copyright © 2018 Lily Llewellyn

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events 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.

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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62

In the Best Interests of the Child
He took a few slow sips from his cup before offering some unwanted advice. ‘I think you should start taking that medication. Maybe it will stop you acting irrationally. You know I do care about you Isla. Our relationship is very special. You know that. You need me and I need you. Everything I do is for you, for your own good.’ Putting his cup down on the nightstand he moved towards me and reaching his arm around my shoulders he pulled me in towards him so that my head fell into his lap. ‘If you were thinking of leaving me I should remind you that I know a lot about you Isla. Just remember that. It would be a foolish move to make. I’m with you for a reason. Nobody will love you like I do.’ He stroked my hair and I tried to speak. No words came. Instead I just lay there numb, staring hopelessly at the wall. I was in a nightmare but I was fully awake.










Twelve months earlier
Chapter 1
Sitting in the hospital consultation room, I felt as if I was going to pass out. The pain and sheer exhaustion of my condition had left me weak, frail and pathetic. The bright lights and white, stark walls had not helped, dazzling me and forcing me to squint as I tried to focus on his face, on what he was about to say. I did not want to be here, I wanted to be at home.
I had started a new job three months before at the local University. It was one of the best jobs I had ever had, working part time for full time pay within a young, friendly and vibrant office. No day was the same and it fitted in well with my artwork, giving me time to dedicate to my painting whilst earning a decent wage. I had literally jumped for joy when I got the job offer having been out of paid work for several months. Although I enjoyed being a volunteer for a local charity I needed to earn a living and this had suited me perfectly. Then life dealt a hefty blow. When I visited the bathroom one morning with agonising cramps and saw blood in the bowl, I knew something was seriously wrong. I was thirty-one years old and in a horrible state.
The specialist looked at me seriously, sympathetically. ‘You have Ulcerative Colitis. It’s a condition that comes under the umbrella term of IBD or Inflammatory Bowel Disease. It’s an autoimmune disorder, which means that for some reason your body is attacking itself, causing bleeding ulcers in your colon. We do not know the cause of it and currently, there is no cure, all we can do is try to control the symptoms. We need to stop the bleeding and get you started on medication as soon as possible.’ His voice faded and the room became a blur of sterile, surgical emptiness.
Unable to concentrate or ground myself, I felt as if I was drifting off into space.
‘Miss Murphy, I know this is all a lot to take in.’ the concern in his face had grown, his eyes narrowing as he leant forward to scrutinise his ghostly patient more closely. ‘You do look very pale. Do you want to stay in overnight?’
Sore, exhausted and fragile, my usual amenable manner had all but disappeared. I retreated into myself, sitting there rigidly on the hard chair gripping my small black bag and wishing I were at home. I had seen enough of hospitals for quite some time. I wanted my bed. I wanted to draw the curtains and banish the outside world. I just wanted to sleep. ‘No, thank you, I’ll be okay in a minute, I’m just a bit tired that’s all.’
‘All right, well just take as long as you like, no rush. Here is your prescription.’
The taxi ride home had taken forever. It was dark and cold outside the steamed windows of the cab, the streets lights blurring yellow against the black night. The traffic moved slowly, creeping down the road. All the lights seemed to turn red as we approached them. The driver cheerfully tried to make conversation but I was utterly drained and struggled to respond to his light-hearted chatter. When I eventually turned the keys in the door and made my way heavily up the stairs into the welcoming warmth of my flat I collapsed on the sofa, coat still on grasping an extremely large and crumpled paper bag of prescribed paraphernalia.
I cannot be sure how long I stayed there slumped, staring vacantly at the wall. I tried to remember what the specialist had said ‘ there is currently no cure, all we can do is try to control the symptoms.’
I sat up and emptied the bag of rattling bottles and boxes onto the coffee table before lining them all up in a row. So this was going to be my life from now on, relying on pills and suppositories and goodness knows what to keep this thing at bay. Well, best get on with it, I thought. I grappled with the edge of the sofa pushing myself up before traipsing wearily into the kitchen. I poured myself a large glass of water and plonking myself back on to the couch I counted out twelve small, red pills swallowing each down, one by one with a large gulp of water.
Chapter 2
Tell us a bit about yourself.
Hi, I’m Isla a 30 something lady looking for friendship and maybe more. I’m arty, fun loving and a wee bit quirky, in a good way of course! I love music, painting, yoga, art exhibitions, good food, excellent wine, fabulous company and candlelight!
What are you looking for?
Someone who doesn’t take himself too seriously, a kind, honest and genuine guy hopefully with similar interests to share all the good things that life has to offer.
I was struggling to fill in the details. Having just mustered the confidence to join a dating website, I had been tempted by a free weekend subscription. What could I lose? I happily imagined that I might even find that elusive one, that wonderful man I had secretly been waiting my whole life to meet. The one I would settle down with and maybe even have children with. Who knows, dreams could come true. Couldn’t they?
The last few months had been an immense struggle. The medication had stopped the bleeding temporarily but a whole host of new problems had begun. Aside from the terrible aching in my joints and back, the steroids had made me jittery beyond belief. It was as if I had been continually downing espressos all day every day. Although I was utterly weak and fatigued, I was also hyperactive and restless, a truly torturous combination.
I desperately needed to recuperate, to recharge, but it had been impossible to get any rest. My mother had been concerned on her frequent visits, watching her daughter manically cleaning, unable to sit down even though the exhaustion in my face was obvious, my eyes blackened through lack of sleep. It was as if I had been wound up like some strange mechanical toy, dementedly dusting, vacuuming and wiping perfectly clean counter tops over and over again.
I attempted to return to work but the medication had left me shaky and unable to carry out even the simplest of tasks. Students lined up at my desk waiting for their NUS cards, impatient as I tried desperately to peel back sticky protective plastic and attach photos with fingers that would not work in unison with my brain. I shook so much I had to keep stopping to take a deep breath whilst my colleague frantically tried to make up for my inability. Reluctantly I agreed to go back on sick leave.
My boss had been more than generous, keeping my job open even though I had barely worked there three months before falling unwell. I knew that this goodwill could not last forever and my sick pay was bound to stop sooner or later. After six and a half months of being housebound, I handed in my resignation. I kn

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