Essence of Love

Ann Davies Karen

Description

On a dark, rainy night in the East End of London a young girl, Katie Carson, witnesses her mother jump from a bedroom window trying to escape the demons in her mind, and Katie's life is changed forever. Katie's path is inextricably linked with Simon's, a boy known to her from school, when her kindly grandparents welcome him into their home after his mother abandons him. It's a bond that endures throughout the years, even after Simon moves to Yorkshire to be reunited with his father.Friendship turns to love, but each of their childhood traumas leave them with fears and insecurities, nervous of committing to each other. Can they allow their fragile hearts to open and risk being hurt again?When an intimidating bully from their childhood days re-enters their lives, they are in grave danger. With a vengeful man intent on causing devastation and family secrets hampering their future together, will Katie and Simon ever find the peace and happiness they truly deserve?The Essence of Love is a deeply compassionate romance with heart and soul that will make you laugh and cry.

Sujets

• Love
• Love (disambiguation)
• London
• Grand Londres
• Yorkshire
• Minorque
• Greater London
• Minorca
• Contemporary romance
• Menorca
• Condado de Yorkshire (Reino Unido)
• Gran Londres

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 15 novembre 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781838597566
• Langue: English

Extrait

Copyright © 2020 Karen Ann Davies

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 978 1838597 566

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.


Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

For:
Granny, Grandad and all my fur babies,
past and present.
Contents
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Prologue
On a dank winter’s night in the East End of London, a mysterious full moon, veiled by steel-grey clouds, danced in people’s dreams and pulled madness closer to the surface.
A young girl pressed her face against the cold damp glass of her bedroom window and peered into the front garden. Briefly the blue flashing lights of a police car blinded her, but as she began to refocus, she spotted a woman lying prone on the dewy lawn, surrounded by people in uniform. A trickle of condensation ran down the girl’s cheek and she wiped it away. Her brow wrinkled as she watched the drama unfold. The moon appeared from behind the clouds, a giant spotlight illuminating the proceedings below and a paramedic, who appeared to have been trying to revive the woman, stood up and moved away. The girl’s eyes opened wider and she gasped, as realisation dawned.
~
Two streets away, a boy cowered in the kitchen of his house on cold, sticky linoleum, his thin legs trembling. He huddled his knees to his chest, trying to make himself invisible. His mother, nursing a half-empty glass of whisky in one hand and supporting her head with the other, mumbled to herself. A lipstick-stained cigarette burned itself out in a glass ashtray in front of her. The eerie moon peered through the bare window like a silent witness. Without warning, the woman got up from her chair, shrieked and launched the glass at the wall to the side of her son. The boy swerved, his instincts always on high alert, as the glass and its contents whistled past him and shattered on the ground, missing his head by inches.
~
The next morning, as the sun kissed goodbye to the moon, in a small and cluttered house in the same town, a corpulent middle-aged woman proudly placed a china plate, holding the chocolate cake she’d just baked, onto her dining room table.
‘As Daddy’s not at home, shall we be very naughty and have chocolate cake for our breakfast? What do you say, my little pumpkin?’
‘Yes, please .’
‘You mustn’t tell him.’
‘I won’t. I promise.’
‘We love Mummy’s cakes, don’t we, darling?’ she said, stuffing a huge piece into her mouth before cutting a slice for her son.
‘We do, Mummy,’ replied the pasty-faced boy with the jet-black curls.
The woman patted him on the head and wobbled out of the dining room.
The boy glared at his mother’s departing back and waited for her to re-enter the kitchen. Then he punched a fist into the cake on his plate, his eyes the colour of squid ink.

Part One
One
eighteen years later
‘You need to keep well away from that boy. He’s got the devil in him.’
Katie had taken heed of her granny’s old words of warning, managing to avoid him as much as she possibly could since their school days together, but as she caught sight of the now grown-up Darren Spencer smoking a cigarette and leaning against the bus shelter opposite her grandmother’s house, she got the chills. She stepped back from the window and hugged her arms around her body.
A knock on the door made her start. Her best friend, Marissa, swished into the bedroom in a Persian-blue silk dress clinging to her svelte figure and accentuating her long ebony hair.
‘Are you coming back down to the party yet?’ Marissa gestured to the door. ‘It’s nearly midnight. Everyone’s wondering where you’ve got to … Hey, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ She moved over to her friend and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘You’re shaking. What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. I’m being silly. I came up here for some breathing space. Mark was getting on my nerves. I really hate it when he drinks too much … Anyway,’ Katie pointed at the window, ‘I’ve just seen Darren Spencer lurking outside. It made me jump.’
Marissa went over to the window and peered around the heavy floral curtains. ‘He’s not there now.’ She turned round. ‘Perhaps he was on his way home from a party or something?’
Katie plonked herself on the bed. ‘Maybe. But don’t you think it’s strange? I haven’t set eyes on him in years and now he seems to be everywhere I look. I forgot to tell you he was outside our salon before Christmas, on your day off, pretending to study the treatment list in the window. Why would he be interested in coming into a beauty salon?’ Katie started to chew on her nails. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit weird?’
Marissa sat down next to her friend on the single bed, with its rose-pink eiderdown that matched the curtains. She tapped Katie’s hand away from her mouth. ‘You’ll ruin your manicure.’
‘So, what do you think his game is?’
‘No idea, but one of my clients, Julie Madden ‒ you know her, don’t you? Well, the last time she was in the salon, she told me she’d heard Darren had moved back in with his mum.’ Marissa pulled a face. ‘She’s a weird one too! There were rumours he used to knock his wife about, you know?’
Katie plucked at the eiderdown to distract herself from biting her nails. ‘So I heard. Perhaps she kicked him out and that’s why he’s come back here?’
Marissa raised her eyebrows. ‘Maybe. I’d hoped we’d seen the last of him when he moved away.’
Katie sighed. ‘Me too. I hope she doesn’t take him back if that is what’s happened. You know what those men are like – hitting women one minute, full of remorse and promising their undying love the next.’
‘She’s mad if she does. There’s something seriously unhinged about that man. I’ve seen him a few times going into the betting shop at Chingdale Mount. I don’t make eye contact. Even as a young boy he had a mean streak, didn’t he?’
‘He was evil!’
‘Once a bully, always a bully. A leopard doesn’t change its spots.’
‘Well, all I know is he’s starting to creep me out.’
The sound of Katie’s brother’s raucous laugher from down below broke the tense atmosphere and the two friends smiled at each other. Marissa squeezed Katie’s shoulder. ‘Come on,’ she said, taking her hand and pulling her up from the bed. ‘Forget about Darren. Let’s get back to the party and enjoy ourselves. It’s New Year’s Eve, after all!’
~
‘Oh, there you are.’ Katie’s granny, Ivy, approached her with a tray of thick yellow drinks topped with cherries pierced on cocktail sticks. ‘Where’s Marissa?’
‘In the loo. Touching up her make-up again, probably.’ Katie smiled.
Ivy tutted. ‘She doesn’t need all that muck on her face, she’s lovely enough without it.’
They were joined by Katie’s brother, Tim. ‘Would you like a snowball, love?’ Ivy asked.
Tim put a casual arm around her shoulders. ‘We’re not in the seventies now, you know, Granny. Where’s the champers?’
Ivy scowled at him, ‘Well, no one’s forcing you to drink it, young man.’
‘Aw, stop teasing, Tim.’ Katie took two glasses from the silver tray and pushed one towards her brother. ‘Thanks, Granny. A New Year’s Eve party at your house wouldn’t be the same without a snowball.’
‘Go on. I’ll try one as well.’ Their friend, Simon, had joined them. He clinked his glass against Katie’s and Tim’s. ‘Cheers.’
Tim took a sip of his advocaat and pulled a face at Katie and Simon, making them both laugh.
‘I saw that!’
‘You know I’m only joking, Granny.’ Tim kissed the top of her permed curls. ‘Here.’ He took the tray from her hands. ‘I’ll pass these around for you, but can you please get Grandad to put something else on that old record player of his? I appreciate Andy Williams as much as the next man, but we need something lively to see in the New Year. Only twenty minutes to go.’
‘Thank you. You’re a good boy, really.’ Ivy wended her way towards her husband who’d made a dash for the kitchen. ‘Bert. For gawd’s sake, change the music. It’s supposed to be a party, not a bleedin’ wake.’
~
After a good chat with Simon, Katie strolled into the kitchen to get another drink.
‘You OK?’ she said to her boyfriend, who was leaning against the Formica worktop drinking a beer.
‘Finally managed to tear yourself away from your friend, have you? I thought you’d forgotten about me.’
Katie sighed. ‘Oh, don’t start sulking, Mark. And do you have to