When Sparks Fly

Krissi Morris

Description

After the birth of her daughter and with her loving husband, Alistair, by her side, life is complete for Molly. However, following the death of her father and her mother deserting her for Spain and a husband taking more interest in his business, Molly discovers that life is not the idyllic fairy-tale she imagined. Family life puts her veterinary practice in jeopardy. Molly turns to Hugh - the locum - for support.
Sandra, Molly''s mother, arrives from Spain with the much younger Enrico in tow making demands. Molly finds herself in an impossible position and after a blazing row with Alistair, she moves out returning to the farm, her childhood home. Bertie lives at the farm and his partner Lucy is suspicious of Molly''s intentions.
Molly confides in her best friend Lucy realising that suffering alone she has neglected the needs of others around her, including Alistair. Finding herself becomes a crusade, discovering that this may just be the best thing that ever happened to her.

Sujets

• Sagas

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
• Date de parution: 30 septembre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528983051
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

When Sparks Fly
Krissi Morris
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-09-30
When Sparks Fly About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgement 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
About the Author
Krissi was born in Yorkshire and now lives in Dorset on the Isle of Purbeck with her husband, Bob. After spending the last 20 years in the world of estate agency, she is now retired. So, with the family grown up, she is free to spend her time indulging in her love of walking, gardening, volunteering and, at last, her passion for writing.
Dedication
For my daughter, Lisa, and step-daughter, Alison, who together are a constant inspiration and support to me.
Copyright Information ©
Krissi Morris (2020)
The right of Krissi Morris to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 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 9781528983044 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528983051 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgement
Writing for me, like many, began as a hobby: writing short stories that soon became an obsession. I am thrilled with this—my second novel. Special thanks to my husband, Bob, who patiently listens and encourages me. Thanks again to Clair Bossons, for her proofreading skills and advice.
Chapter 1
Molly gently squeezed her mother’s arm as they stood staring into the open grave, watching as the coffin slowly slipped down with its shining brass plate declaring that her father was inside, gone forever. The vicar droning on ‘ashes to ashes’, she wanted to scream ‘that’s my dad in there’. The vicar, who should have retired years ago, had condensed her dad’s life into ten minutes of platitudes. He was more than that. Her throat constricted with pain as she swallowed her grief, it wasn’t as though they were close, in fact, Molly could hardly remember much about him, as he was always out in the fields when she woke up in the morning and often she was in bed when he came in at night. She still felt an aching loss, wishing that she had known him better. Her mother had whisked him away to live in Spain as soon as he was too ill to work and had to give up the farm. Her mother never really wanted to just be a farmer’s wife, preferring to keep her part-time job in the village at the hairdresser’s.
She shuddered as a cold wind rushed around her legs, bringing her back to the hole in the ground, to reality.
She dropped a long-stemmed white rose onto the coffin. It had to be white as her dad was; forever a fiercely strong Yorkshire man. She whispered ‘Goodbye’. The other mourners followed a gentle thud as each rose fell onto the coffin, a tangled mix of colour and thoughts.
The small group of mourners glanced awkwardly at each other, itching to leave and find somewhere warmer. An occasional sniff broke the silence but the birds were singing their hearts out. Molly instinctively looked up just as the sun broke through. She smiled, hoping that it was her father looking down on them, but knowing it could not be. She shivered as the weak sun attempted to warm her, failing miserably. April can be warm and sunny, but today the cold crisp air matched her mood. The daffodils already drooping as the primroses smiled and the bluebells began to push forth, their scent filling the air. Her sister, Stella, caught her eye, indicating that they should leave. Molly obliged.
***
“I’ve made up my mind,” said Sandra, turning to look at her two daughters. Not one for patience, she would often make announcements that stunned everyone around her, making her unpredictable. Like the time before Molly was born when Sandra had wanted to leave Yorkshire and move to Dorset, regardless of what Dad wanted. To Molly’s dismay, Sandra was not the warmest of mothers.
“About what?” they declared in unison. Molly and Stella glanced at each other and back to Sandra, wondering what revelation she had for them now. They were used to her sudden declarations, often bizarre, but totally ‘her’. The Aga gently warmed the big old farmhouse kitchen, polite conversation buzzed around the room, with Rex hiding in his basket trying to avoid feet. His tongue sloshed around his lips and he gulped at the sight and smells of all that food, but he remained curled up protectively in his bed.
“Come on, Mum, you can’t just say that and leave us hanging.” Molly, fearing the worst, crouched down next to her mum stroking her hand, wondering what was coming their way this time. Their mother was not known for being realistic and did things on a whim far too often; like her sudden decision to move to Spain. Rex ventured out of his corner and slid his nose onto her lap. She ruffled his ears absentmindedly and Rex gave an appreciative lick.
“It’s a bit soon to make any decisions, don’t you think?” she asked, tentatively looking up at Stella and rolling her eyes.
Sandra pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing her cheeks and sniffing. Molly had seen this tactic so many times, she relaxed, turning her attention to Alistair. They had held a surprise wedding the previous autumn on Studland beach and Jessica was born a few months later in December. She was so grateful that her dad had lived long enough to see her married and Jessica born.
Alistair was cooing gently, gazing at his baby daughter, love and affection pouring from him and she was gazing back at him with her big blue eyes. She watched as he stroked her tiny tuft of russet and gold curls. Alistair looked up and grinned mouthing, ‘I love you’. George, her father-in-law, caught her attention as he was doing his best to balance a cup of tea and eat a sandwich at the same time. She jumped in to rescue the rattling cup just as Alice began fussing over George and everyone else. Her mother-in-law, Alice, had a natural mothering instinct, although some would say interfering and overbearing. Molly couldn’t help a grin spreading across her face and bit her lip to hold it back as Alistair shrugged, hand on one hip, but he said nothing to his mother throwing a smirk in Molly’s direction instead.
“No, sorry girls, but I will not change my mind. I’ve thought of nothing else and I’m going back to Spain.” Molly and Stella looked at each other in exasperation. Molly raised her eyebrows. Sandra only ever did what suited Sandra and this idea was no exception. “The villa hasn’t sold and I miss our friends. We had a good life, your dad and I, in Spain and, let’s be honest, there’s nothing to keep me here. I might just as well go back.” She made to get up putting an end to the subject saying, “You have your lives and we are both proud of you. but you have to understand that I need, no want, to live mine too. So that’s the end of it.” Sandra moved away and began talking to the other mourners who had come back to the farm. Molly and Stella were gobsmacked. Of all the things she could have said, this would take some beating and not what they were expecting at all.
“I don’t like to think of Mum going back to Spain on her own, but…” Molly picked up a mug of tea and took a sip. “Yuk, sugar, must be yours, Stella?” She laughed and pulled the kettle onto the hot plate to make a fresh pot of tea.
“You’re right, I worry too, but you know Mum; once she’s made up her mind, we might as well give in.” Stella tried the tea, “Mmm, must be mine. We should talk later. I don’t think that it would do any good right now, not when she’s like this.” Heaving a sigh, Molly agreed.
“I’m sure that it will be a few weeks before she goes anyway and she may yet change her mind.” Although Molly struggled to believe her own sentiment, knowing her mother very rarely changed her mind.
They headed towards the food. Molly watched her sister as she picked up some sandwiches and inspected the cakes. Stella had her own successful business making mainly wedding cakes but she also made birthday cakes or anything that people wanted really. She had quite a reputation for her designs using edible flowers and had started growing them herself. Her creations were stunning and she had appeared in magazines and been interviewed on local radio. Molly made her tea and waved her mug at Alistair who shook his head, rubbing his stomach making her giggle. She wandered over towards him but was caught by Alice.
“Molly dear, how are you coping? So much has happened in these last few months, getting married, having a baby and now your poor father…” Alice smiled encouragingly at her and Molly knew that she meant well, but she had missed out in her long list, coping with a new mother-in-law too. Molly was always careful with her reply as Alice often asked ‘trick’ questions.
“I couldn’t have managed without Alistair; he has been wonderful,” she spotted him, hoping for rescue, but he was clearly trying to free himself from his own mother-in-law