Welcome to Tuesday's Tales
This week I'm returning to my WIP Born Again. Amanda has returned to her bed & breakfast accommodation after rushing away from the fairground...
The scent of lemon furniture polish assailed her
the moment she opened the bedroom door, ousting recent events at the fair
ground allowing loss and guilt to fill the vacuum. How
come she hadn’t noticed the scent when she was first shown into the room
earlier in the day?
The night she’d learned of her origins.
The night that weird happenings in her late grandfather’s room sent her
scuttling back to her grandmother.
The night her life changed forever.
She pushed the door closed behind her,
looked round the bed and breakfast accommodation and wondered whether she
should cancel her second night’s booking and leave first thing in the morning.
What was she doing here anyway? It was
just another destination in her self-imposed ‘time-out’ to try and find
herself. But that would never happen while she aimlessly wandered from one end
of the country to the other.
Running.
Where had that thought come from, and
was it true? Was she running from her past, too afraid to face a future without
the solid foundations she’d grown up with?
They hadn’t gone anywhere, had they?
Yes! They had.
However much she tried to hang onto the love lavished on her all her life, the
lies, like a smoke screen, kept blurring the reality.
Shock kept her where she stood, her back
to the door, the queen sized bed in front of her, and moonlight drifting in
through the window to her left.
Was she running? She thought, if
anything, she was working up the courage to start a search for her true family.
But… There was that hateful three-letter word again. The one that knocked the
props out from beneath all her good intentions.
Should she try? Was it fair to the people to dredge up the
past again? They probably moved on and not want to revisit the era of what
surely must be their greatest pain.
But… The not knowing. If it was her, she
knew the not knowing would eventually destroy her. If not physically…
On legs threatening to give way she
staggered to the bed and dropped down.
A blast of music from the fair ground
filtered through her window.
Something about the two men bothered
her. If she stayed and tried to find out—what? What was is about them that
stirred her psyche? Within all the metal confusion buzzing around in her brain,
the one certainty that she’d never set eyes on either of them before remained
steadfast. So why did they refuse to budge out of her head?
She looked at her travelling clock on
the bedside table. Ten-thirty. Not dark, but dark enough for the moon to spread
her light around the room.
The knock when it came didn’t surprise
her.
