Synopsis
Suddenly bereaved, Molly White realizes that she has never
really known her feisty husband Jake when random boxes begin to appear through
the post, each one containing a tantalizing clue to the secrets of Jake and
Molly’s past. Someone who knows them both well, for reasons of their own, has
planned a trail of discovery. The clues seem to be designed to change Molly’s
life completely, leading her around Britain and then onwards to rural France
and deepest Bavaria.
Meanwhile, waiting in the wings is Tom, a charismatic artist
who runs a gallery in the same town. Strong, independent and wheelchair-bound
from the age of fifteen, he leads a solitary life and has no idea how
devastatingly attractive he is to women. When Tom meets curvy, beautiful and
funny Molly, he knows that she is his dream woman, but she seems way out of his
orbit until the boxes start to weave their spell and the two of them are thrown
right out of their comfort zones.
Excerpt
Tom sat on the beach in the spring sunshine, eating cockles
out of a tub and
gazing rather grimly at the incoming tide. If it came much
closer he’d have to
abandon his painting for the day – it took a good twenty
minutes to pack up and get
back to his car on the promenade.
As he licked his fingers and screwed up the seafood carton,
there was a scrunch
of pebbles and a whoosh of air as a small boy thundered
past, whooping at the top
of his voice. He was followed at speed by the most desirable
woman that Tom could
ever remember seeing in this small seaside town. It was his
Lady in Red; the one
who had been cropping up in his dreams far too often since
he’d first seen her on the
beach. Her hair was an explosion of dark curls, and she wore
tight orange jeans with
a wildly clashing crimson sweater that came almost to her
knees. Tom took a deep
breath to say hello but he was too late.
‘Max... MAX... don’t go near the sea. I mean it!’ she
bellowed, skidding straight
into Tom as she chased the boy across the pebbles. ‘Sorry,
sorry… have I hurt you?
Is your painting wrecked? Oh – wow; it’s good, isn’t it? You
can tell it’s meant to be
the pier. I’m really, really sorry…’
Tom picked himself up and put his painting chair the right
way up again. ‘Hey, it’s
okay – you can fall over me any time,’ he said, grinning
into her startlingly green
eyes.
She blinked and looked away, her lovely face matching the
colour of her
sweater. Shielding her eyes with a hand, she scanned the
beach for the boy.
‘Where’s he gone, the little toad? Ah, there he is, he’s
making something out of a
heap of stones – at least he’s not paddling fully dressed
like last time. Oh hell, you
don’t even know me and I’ve already wrecked your work. I’m
Molly. I think I’ve seen
you here before, haven’t I? Let me fix your painting.’
She bent down to see if she could repair the damage and Tom
held out a hand
to stop her trying to brush bits of stone off his picture.
‘No, honestly, it’s fine, I’ll sort it
out. I’m Tom, and I’ve seen you, too. You’re easy to
remember.’
‘Am I? Why?’
‘Lots of reasons – you often seem to be in a hurry, you
always wear something
red, you’ve got lots of kids, you’re gorgeous…’ Tom stopped
in confusion.
‘Gorgeous? Me? Do you need your eyes testing or something?’
Molly blushed
again and looked at him properly for the first time. ‘I’m
sorry, that was really rude,’
she said. ‘My mum’s always telling me I don’t know how to
take a compliment.’
‘Don’t worry, maybe you just need a bit more practice.’ Tom
bent to carry on
sorting his painting kit out. He couldn’t help noticing how
her eyes rested on his
forearms as he finished tidying up and, clearly aware of his
scrutiny, she reddened
even more.
‘You’re very strong, aren’t you?’ she blurted out.
Tom laughed. ‘I guess I have to be, don’t I? If you’ve seen
me before, you’ll
know why.’
‘I don’t want you to think I’ve been staring at you, Tom.
It’s just that you’re…
um… different to most of the men round here.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Tom slung his bag over one shoulder and
heaved himself out
of his folding chair.
‘Can I help you at all?’ Molly asked, standing on tiptoes to
get a better view of
the shoreline. ‘Oh look, here are the other two Musketeers.
They can carry
something for you, if you like.’
‘I don’t need any help, thanks.’ Tom bit back the familiar
feeling of irritation and
smiled up at a pair of girls, dressed entirely in black, who
had stopped next to him.
The taller one had multiple piercings. Both girls were
scowling.
‘Mum, what are you like?’ said the pierced one. ‘We saw you
knock the paints all
over the place. You’re so clumsy. Have you seen what Max is
doing now?’
Molly looked again. The small boy had been jumping off his
pile of stones and
had landed awkwardly the last time. He began to wail. ‘Max!
I told you last time not
to do that. Hang on, I’m coming,’ Molly shouted.
The girls sighed and rolled their eyes at Tom as they
watched their mum slither
off over the stones to the sandy stretch by the sea, where
Max was now hurling the
biggest rocks he could find into the waves. The pierced girl
turned to the smaller one.
‘Bloody hell, why doesn’t she just leave him alone for a
bit? The only place he
can go is into the sea.’
‘But he’s only little – he can’t swim.’
‘Exactly.’ The older girl smirked as they wandered off down
the beach.
Tom sighed. Another opportunity lost; still no nearer to
finding out more about his dream woman. Oh well, at least he knew her name now.
On the other hand, it didn’t
take a genius to work out that she was already taken. The
wedding ring gave it
away, even if the children didn’t.
About the Author
Celia J Anderson spends most of her spare time writing in as
many different genres as possible, including children’s fiction. In her other
life, she’s Assistant Headteacher at a small Catholic primary school in the
Midlands and loves teaching literature (now comfortingly called English again
but still the best subject in the world.)
She tried a variety of random jobs before discovering that
the careers advisor at secondary school was right, including running crèches,
childminding, teaching children to ride bikes (having omitted to mention she
couldn’t do it herself) and a stint in mental health care. All these were ideal
preparation for the classroom and provided huge amounts of copy for the books
that were to come.
Celia enjoys cooking and eating in equal measures, and
thinks life without wine would be a sad thing indeed. She is married, with two
grown up daughters who have defected to the seaside. One day she plans to scoop
up husband and cats and join them there.
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