Loves Lost and Found

V Radwinter E

Description

This is a heartfelt book of, and about, love. Fate has often conspired against Chloe. So, when an old flame, Ed, reappears out of the blue, Chloe must decide whether she will succumb to the euphoric, addictive and giddy happiness of a rekindled romance, or close her heart to love in order to protect herself from the emptiness left by previous broken hearts.Chloe has worked hard to get to where she is professionally, to be successful. Although she has been in love and been loved, she has not yet found the 'happily ever after' that she longed for... until, possibly, now.Maybe, just maybe, this time fate will push her in the right direction.But when past hurt haunts the present will Chloe embrace the thrill of the rollercoaster ride, or let her fear of falling stop her from getting on it?

Sujets

• Essex

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 04 août 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781800466555
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Copyright © 2021 E V Radwinter

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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ISBN 9781800466555

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Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
To mum.
Forever in my heart.


contents
one.
I hope you are sitting comfortably
two.
The past can haunt the present
three.
So begins the beginning
four.
Lessons from the past
five.
Letting the sunshine into my life
six.
Not all relationships are created equal
seven.
New begets new
eight.
One step forward, two back
nine.
A home is where the heart is
ten.
Racing to the race
eleven.
History often repeats itself
twelve.
When changes are changed
thirteen.
Time to dust myself off
fourteen.
And start all over again
fifteen.
One step at a time
sixteen.
Déjà vu
seventeen.
Time to face my demons
eighteen.
Procession to the processional

note from the author
about the author


one.
I hope you are sitting comfortably
I got love wrong.
Often, if the truth be known.
As a consequence, I realised that whilst we all get our hearts broken at some time in our lives, it is the way that we cope, and survive, that heartbreak that defines us. Like everyone, I have loved, been loved and lost love, and now I live in hope, so much hope, that I will never experience the last of the trilogy again.
Walking is my escape, my physical and mental break from the mundane, a chance to take joy in the beauty of nature. And, as it happens, walking is how my life changed forever and it is where this story begins.
My name is Chloe. I rather vaguely describe myself as being too old to be in the first flush of youth, but not yet of an age to experience the hot flushes that come to all women eventually. Unfortunately I am not the type of person to stand out in a crowd. Instead I prefer to be in the background making myself useful and ensuring everyone around me is happy. My family has described me as having a larger than life personality which, apparently, makes me attractive in my own unique way. However, I lack confidence in myself. I am a little below average height and above average weight, with shoulder-length wavy fair hair. Apparently my most distinctive features are my eyes which twinkle, I am told, especially when I release my raucous laugh. I am passionate about the causes I believe in, my family mean the world to me and, I believe, my best quality is my loyalty. I work in communications and I have to confess that I am a determined, successful and hard-working, career-minded person. Some, if not all, of these characteristics may well be part of the reason why lasting love has eluded me.
That aside, my career has provided me with the means to live on the edge of an attractive medieval town in middle England. It has a cacophony of quaint higgledy-piggledy houses in pastel shades, walls and roofs at unfathomable angles. I often pause to ponder how they have managed to remain standing after so many centuries without having a horizontal or vertical line amongst them. The town has a bustling market twice a week and is nestled into a valley surrounded by green fields and copses.
The day that marked the beginning of a vibrant and new chapter in my life was a beautiful spring Saturday, not the first sunny day of the year, but the first that offered hope for the summer to come. Apart from that it was an ordinary day, the sun shining, a cooling breeze, the birds singing; flowers were beginning to flourish as the warm rays hit the cold earth, the buds on the trees were unfurling into bright green leaves and all around smelt fresh and new as nature awoke after a harsh winter.
The day was too glorious to spend cooped up at home so I set out for a walk. The first hour was uneventful – two hills to power up before dropping back down to more level ground. The walk was mostly along roads, cars and lorries rushing by so close that I could feel the wind blast at me as they passed, requiring a quick reaction to hold down my top for fear it might take flight.
I continued along a minor road, through woods which provided some blessed, shaded relief from the sun. The light was dappled where the sun filtered through the evergreen leaves, the rays brilliant as they danced across the puddles that remained from the rainfall the night before. Around the bend and the trees receded to reveal a stately home, built early in the seventeenth century, set back from the road.
As I was passing the house, I was absorbed by the sight of the sandstone façade reflecting back the sunshine which engulfed it. A short distance further on I turned right, away from the road, towards the meadow that runs along the edge of the walled grounds of the house, passing across the estate farmland. The little-used footpath provides a shortcut and by this stage in the walk, most importantly, an almost level route back to the town.
I had trodden this path many times over the years I had lived in the town. Despite the amount of time spent walking along paths adjacent to roads, it was still a favourite walk of mine. However, this was the first time the walk would impact on the future direction of my life.
The path starts out as a concrete slab road that leads to a couple of the estate farmhouses. The road runs a short distance, passing a field with a dilapidated World War II machine gun post, the concrete exterior still intact but now overgrown with weeds. It then crosses a narrow stream, where the water gurgles and bubbles over the stones that make up its bed. Beyond that the road continues over a concrete bridge into a chaotic farmyard, with wooden barns which have seen better days, filled with old, long-forgotten machinery and equipment, and on hot days the smell of rotting manure can be pungent. Before the bridge the walker turns off the road and down onto a narrow muddy path that runs between the stream and the estate’s stone and flint wall.
It was just before the road and path separate that I heard a vehicle coming up behind me at speed. I stepped to one side to let it pass, assuming it was a farmer returning home. In fact it was a police van. I was surprised to see it on this road. What on earth has happened at the farm? I thought as my mind went into a flurry of imagined scenarios. I could see through the windows that the van was full of police, so whatever had happened at the holding must have been significant.
I expected the van to pass by me and make its way into the farmyard. However, it ground to a halt just ahead of me and one of the policemen in the back got up, made his way to the door, slid it open and got out. Laughing inwardly, I wondered if they were lost and were stopping to ask for directions. How ironic that would have been.
As the policeman rounded the front of the van, I felt a strange feeling of recognition, or was it the ice-cold fingers of déjà vu gripping my heart, so intense I shivered. It stopped the breath in my chest, and then, just as quickly as it had descended upon me, it was gone. I was slightly perturbed, unsure of what I was feeling or why. I couldn’t work out what was happening. There was no time to dwell on it though as he was here, standing in front of me, smiling sheepishly.
At a guess I would have placed him a few years older than me. His hair was cut short, dark but greying at the edges giving him a distinguished appearance. He looked trustworthy, although that might have been the uniform which his body filled to perfection. He was ruggedly handsome, the sort of man I had previously fallen for. He had a strong chin and cheekbones, a face you could happily stare at for hours. And yes, he was tall, but then at five foot one and a half inches, almost all adults, and