“I’m going to live in Spain,” she stated matter-of-factly, ignoring her exes comment.
As proof, she produced the flip-flops with a flourish.
Silence again, only this time not in a good way.
“Fuck’s sake, Mum, who do you think you are? Shirley bloody Valentine!” Andrew spurted tea down his shirt. “It’s bloody nonsense.”
“What about us and the house? You’re not selling are you?” Daniel whined, fiddling with his glasses. At twenty-five, he was uncannily like his father, in personality as well as looks. Good looking, yes. Paisley was always comparing him to Tom Hardy – much to Andrew’s disgust – and yes, Abby could see the resemblance if Tom Hardy had a poker shoved up his arse, thick-rimmed spectacles, perfectly coiffed hair, and worked in the scintillating world of company accounts. Daniel. No emotion. Just practicalities.
“You’re more than able to look after yourselves, and the house is paid for. All you’ll need to do is pay the bills; even you pair can manage that, surely.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Abby, you’re not going to live in Spain.” Janice forgotten, Mark’s face had turned an apoplectic shade of crimson.
“I am … with Lou … she’s bought a house.” Like that explained everything.
“It’s bloody disgusting, that’s what it is.” Andrew, now in full flow his chins and belly wobbling in synchronisation, almost frothed at the mouth. “Two slappers in Salou.”
Paisley sensibly had retreated and stood by the door wringing her hands.
“That’s enough, Andrew! Don’t speak to your mother like that.” Mark puffed out his chest.
“Well, it’s true. She’s abandoning us to go drink sangria and shag Spanish waiters.”
Purposefully, Abby walked unsteadily across the still sticky, damp rug she’d scrubbed that morning and harshly slapped Andrew’s livid face. Turning, she faced them all, speaking in quiet, but firm tones.
“I am going to live in Spain. Maybe I will drink sangria and shag a hundred Spanish waiters … maybe not. But, whatever I do, it’s none of your damn business. Any of you. Got that?”
She could feel eyes burning into her and the murmur of voices fading as she purposefully strode into the kitchen to let Chester out into the garden. Pulling a cigarette from the packet, she lit up, and inhaled, the deep drag bringing on an urgency to spew. Leaning over, she vomited into a large plant pot, wiped her mouth, and ground the cigarette on the soaked paving. Fishing for her phone in her wet pocket, she tapped out a text message. Why had she said he was moving to Spain when she knew that wasn’t possible? Or was it?
Looking up into the wilderness of a dismal grey sky, grotesquely brimming with a heavy mass of black cloud threatening another ugly downpour, Abby’s head was all over the place as her right index finger hovered over the send button. Think, Abby. Think.
But it wasn’t Mark and his young dolly bird’s baby announcement, nor treacherous Paisley or her sons’ demeaning, mindless comments, nor even Lou’s unbridled enthusiasm that made up her mind. Granted, that little list was more than enough to make her up sticks. What sealed it was Chester. As he mooched aimlessly round the garden in the sodden grass, eyes sunken, ears almost disappearing into a squashed face that looked as miserable as she felt, Abby felt a lone teardrop trickle down her cheek. As if willing her to make a decision, Chester let out an unusually long, sorrowful whine prompting Abby to burst into sobs, and her finger to come down heavily on the send button.
The message to Lou was short and simple.
Count me in x
When approached by Blackbird Digital Books to review “Valentina” and participate in the book’s blog tour, I was only too happy to agree. The book is a thriller set in Scotland, enough said… I am SO very pleased that “Valentina” surpassed all my expectations. A debut novel that doesn’t read like one, this domestic thriller is […]
Back in 2012 I read or re-read all Elizabeth Taylor’s novels along with other readers from the Librarything virago group for her centenary. I also read two of her five collections of short stories,…
So, after spending many days tearing my hair out, formatting my book, it is finally ready. All I need now is some lovely people to review it.
Flip Flops, Fiestas, and Flamenco is the first in a series of three books about two best friends, their lives, loves and adventures after moving to a small village in the Andalusian hills
Abby and Lou have been BFF’s since the first day at Uni. Despite being opposites in both looks and personality they were drawn to each other sharing a flat, dreams and a love of animals. Through the ensuing years despite heartache and divorce, they remain as close as ever.
Abby would be the first to admit her life needs an injection of fun. Middle-aged, divorced and slightly overweight she’s a mother/general dogsbody to two layabout sons, a pink-haired Amazonian on-off girlfriend and an incorrigible British Bulldog named Chester, her lifelong dream of living in Spain’s glorious sunshine has been long forgotten or has it?
Lou was stuck in her own rut, never fully recovered from a tragedy in her past a long list of online dating disasters had left her wondering if she will ever find love again. Her cool ice-maiden persona is shattered along with her cat’s eardrums when she wins £400,000 on an online bingo site. Could this be the answer to both their prayers?
Flip-Flops packed, they embark on their adventure but it isn’t all sun and sangria. Warring pets, new neighbours, Cooking experiments, scary wildlife and an escapee Donkey named Santos, combine to make it an unforgettable Summer. Can their friendship survive or will the Mediterranean dream become a nightmare?
10 Physical Signs of a Creative Rush #writer #writers – http://wp.me/p4yGBR-9ex