Purple Jade

Hughes David

Description

All the excitement has gone out of Tom and Lucy Davies' marriage. Tom is depressed and Lucy increasingly feels that she has been cheated by life and the years have been passing her by. However, for Tom and Lucy and their two daughters everything is about to change and their family will no longer be the same. When Arif comes into Lucy's life he seems to offer her all the things she never had from Tom and she grabs the opportunity for something different with both hands. Life is good again, but Lucy's dreams turn to tragedy when Arif gives her more than she ever bargained for.

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 10 septembre 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780722343661
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Title Page
PURPLE JADE
By
David Hughes



Publisher Information
Published in by
ARTHUR H. STOCKWELL LTD
Torrs Park, Ilfracombe, Devon, EX34 8BA
Established 1898
www.ahstockwell.co.uk
Digital edition converted and distributed in 2013 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
© David Hughes, 2013
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright holder.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This is an entirely fictional story, and no conscious attempt has been made to accurately record or recreate any real life events.



Chapter 1
Detective Inspector Becks looked around the room he had just entered. He noticed the single bed littered with fluffy toys, some of which had spilled on to the floor, and the bedside table with the sealed property bag. He walked over to the table and lifted the bag. Twisting it round he noted the confusion of bottles and jars, exposed by its transparency. With a deep sigh he carefully replaced the bag on the table, the contents jarring and jingling as they fought for a place to rest.
A depth of sadness mirrored his gaze as he surveyed the rest of the room. He took in the deliberately prepared neatness of what must have been the untidy habitat of a vibrant teenager, as illustrated by the posters scattered purposely across the walls. His casual glancing was abruptly arrested by a grey shoebox resting in isolation in the centre of the pure-white dressing table. Crossing the room, he looked down at the box. The words ‘To whom it may concern’ had been purposely scrawled in black felt tip across the top, the edges of the words blurred by the absorption of the ink by the cheap card.
He placed a hand at the ends of the lid and lifted it up, placing it subconsciously to one side while looking at the contents. From the box he lifted a packet wrapped in tissue. He unwrapped the noisy paper, exposing a tiny pair of baby’s knitted booties trimmed with pink ribbons. Placing the booties and paper on the lid of the box, he then removed a pack of photos. Quickly shuffling through them, he casually noted that they recorded a child’s history from baby to blonde short-haired teenager with an impish grin. On the reverse of the last photo ‘Susie aged 12’ was inscribed neatly in pencil.
He tapped the photos back into line and quickly placed them to one side, his attention captured by a splash of bright red semi-concealed at the bottom of the box. Reaching into the box, he brushed aside a lock of blonde hair and some ribbons, and a small cardboard box which rattled as he moved it. He hesitated for a split second then picked it up. Removing the lid, he exposed some tiny yellowed teeth. A slight smile creased his mouth for a second as a distant memory of how he too had been a tooth fairy to his kids.
Casting the lid and small box aside, he reached in and lifted the now exposed bright-red book from the box, turning it in his hands while looking for a name or clue as to the contents. The plain red cover stared back at him innocently, reflecting and baulking his quest. Turning back to what he assumed to be the front, owing to the piece of paper which poked out beyond the boundaries of the book, he opened it to find a loose piece of paper had been placed just inside the cover. Lifting it out, he held it to one side, comparing it with the first page of the book; and he noticed that although the neat handwriting was the same, the ink on the loose paper was a different shade and had probably been written at a different time.
Half turning round first to check the bed was clear, he sat down, dropping untidily, as he misjudged how low the bed was, almost falling awkwardly backwards into the soft mattress. Book in one hand, paper in the other, he somewhat resembled a drowning person clasping precious possessions. He wriggled forward to the edge of the bed, leaning forward until he was able to use his legs to sit more securely. Placing the loose page on the cover of the book, he began to read. He could see the words had been deliberately, and forcefully, written, as if to highlight their importance - not just to the writer, but to the reader also:
Should the punishment always be equal and opposite to the crime? If yes, then I can’t complain. I sought and found that which tends to elude most of us. I found happiness, so pure, so simple. Then innocently I was led, led into the darkness, deep into the pit of human misery. I felt sadness; I felt pain so vivid, so intense that I knew, knew in my soul it could only ever be extinguished by life’s end.
The Inspector reread the words then placed the loose page on the bed at his side. He began to read the neatly written words on the first page of the book.



Chapter 2
I know now that my life, such as it was, began and finished on the day I married Tom; up to that time my life at home, school and university had been difficult but bearable.
Although my first job after leaving university meant leaving home, I really didn’t mind because the three years I had spent away from the turmoil of home life had shown that happiness for me was being on my own. Having to exist solely on my grant meant I had spent a great deal of my free time on my own as I tended not to socialise if I couldn’t pay my way.
I had been dreading the day when my studies were finished and I would have to return home. University had been my escape, my bid for freedom. Being the eldest of six girls meant I had been expected to help Mum with the housework and help to look after my sisters. I had to be ‘grown up’ before my time, and this meant there had been little time to enjoy growing up. Despite having so many sisters I would often feel lonely. I was the odd one out, the sensible one, and as my competence of life increased so did the neglect from my busy parents.
To disperse the darkness I would hold my jade up to eye level, stare through it at the light and daydream about the future. My jade - my purple jade - was a rough block of purple plastic rescued from my aunt’s junk box and secreted away during one of our dutiful visits. Yes, I know jade is green, but my jade was a deep purple. It contained, deep within, my secret life, and it was to be kept with me at all times - even as I lay in the solitude of my bed. At night my jade rested under my pillow, under my head, waiting, waiting patiently in case my hand should sneak up and grasp it as I dreamed.
While still at university I applied for many jobs, always touching the envelopes with my jade before posting them. I would often sit through the evenings in darkness and imagine the journey my envelopes were travelling and what sort of person would open them, and I wondered when I should receive the replies. I would casually check the post on the self-appointed days, making outrageous and unrealistic excuses to myself when a reply didn’t - they usually didn’t - arrive.
After the many, many disappointments and the odd interview I was finally offered a job at a water company in their laboratories. When I first opened the letter I was stunned as I read the words over and over again, then ecstatically happy, then mortified with fear as the initial euphoria vaporised and my legs turned to jelly at the realisation of what the letter I was holding meant. Self-doubt invaded my mind. Why me? Why did they want me especially after the interview - the mother of all interviews. First I was late; then the coffee spilt down the front of my blouse; then came the trip as I entered the interview room. It was not just the plain trip over that most would do - oh no, not me! I had to go the whole hog and spill the entire contents of my bag all over the floor. Just for good measures, my half-eaten egg mayonnaise sandwich was overlooked, and I left it where it had landed, under the table. I well remember sitting there anxiously with one eye watching that sandwich, expecting at any moment that a highly polished shoe would squelch the contents into the immaculate carpet.
Sure I had my degree, I told myself, but what about experience - or lack of it, to be precise? Despite my continuing apprehension installed by the thought of failure, my acceptance letter was duly dispatched, putting my mind in turmoil as plan after plan raced through it.
The joy of not having to return to live at home was short-lived as the first month raced by and I returned to my little room at the B. & B. each evening, tired but usually satisfied after a day’s work. I felt lonely and vulnerable, but those feelings were soon to disappear when I moved from the B. & B. into my very own little flat - my first home. I spent all my spare time getting it the way I wanted and felt so proud that I had done everything - the painting and decorating, the carpet-laying. I also assembled the flat-packs, with their stupid instructions and stupidly small amount of squeeze-out glue, which had about as much chance of sticking anything as I had of meeting a handsome prince. Oh, but I did once - when helping out at a play at university. I was the only one who didn’t know that the handsome prince I stood goggling at was really a girl dressed up; not only that, but I learnt later that she had noticed the way I looked at her and had locked herself in her dressing room, convinced that I was some lusting lesbian. No doubt her fears had been fuelled by the stories and comments of the rest of the players!
The next event in my life was when I met Ian. He was a trainee electrician and we met while he was doing some work at our lab. We got o