Best of Woman's Weekly Fiction - July 2022

70 Pages·2022·25 MB·English

Your
A COLLECTION OF THE VERY BEST STORIES
1
No
BEST OF .
Short Story
Magazine!
ONLY
£2.40!
It’s time to treat yours elf!
17
THRILLING
STORIES
Tales with a twist
A TOTALLY
UNEXPECTED
GIF T
Who sent them?
PLUS
FOUR

DREAM COME
NE W
TRUE
STORIES
WHAT DOES HER
Take a chance
VISION MEAN?
Jeannie meets a
Vegas hellraiser
PLUS Coffee break puzzles, two thrilling serials & more!
1 Woman’s Weekly Fiction
womanandhome.com
LIFE ✣ FASHION ✣ BEAUTY ✣ HEALTH & WELLBEING ✣ FOOD ✣ TRAVEL
&
WELCOME
BEST OF
NEW FICTION
EVERY
WEEK IN
Future PLC Quay House, The Ambury, Bath, BA1 1UA
Editorial
Editor April Madden
Senior Designer Harriet Knight
Head of Art & Design Greg Whitaker
Editorial Director Jon White
Cover images
Getty Images
Photography
All copyrights and trademarks are recognised and respected
Advertising
Media packs are available on request
Commercial Director Clare Dove
International
Head of Print Licensing Rachel Shaw
[email protected]
Circulation
Head of Newstrade Tim Mathers
Production Hello,
Head of Production Mark Constance
Production Project Manager William Argent
Advertising Production Manager Joanne Crosby
Digital Editions Controller Jason Hudson
Production Managers Keely Miller, Nola Cokely,
Vivienne Calvert, Fran Twentyman
Printed in the UK
Distributed by Marketforce (UK) Ltd, 3rd Floor, 161 Marsh Wall, London I
E14 9AP, www.marketforce.co.uk Tel: [phone]
t’s holiday season! Whether brand-new tales written
Best Of Woman’s Weekly Fiction Issue 19 (LBZ4473)
© 2022 Future Publishing Limited you’re on a beach, the great especially for this standalone
All characters in stories are entirely fictitious.
outdoors or even the local collection. In this issue, you
Special thanks to Jane Kemp for commissioning the original content
that appears in this collection. park, why not spend some of can find those on pages 12,
We are committed to only using magazine paper which is derived from responsibly managed, your downtime with the latest 30, 48 and 54.
certified forestry and chlorine-free manufacture. The paper in this bookazine was sourced
and produced from sustainable managed forests, conforming to strict environmental and issue of the Best of Woman’s There are also two complete
socioeconomic standards. The paper holds full FSC or PEFC certification and accreditation.
All contents © 2022 Future Publishing Limited or published under licence. All rights reserved. Weekly Fiction? serials in each issue so you
No part of this magazine may be used, stored, transmitted or reproduced in any way without
the prior written permission of the publisher. Future Publishing Limited (company number Each month you’ll find a can follow these longer stories
Ba2t0h0 B8A818 15U) Ais. rAelgl iisntfeorremda intio Enn cgolanntadi naendd iWn athleiss .p Ruebgliicstaetrioend iosf fifocre i:n Qfouramy aHtioouns oen, Tlyh ea nAdm isb, uarsy f,a r choice selection of your at your own pace, and you’ll
as we are aware, correct at the time of going to press. Future cannot accept any responsibility favourite stories from Woman’s also find a selection of
for errors or inaccuracies in such information. You are advised to contact manufacturers and
retailers directly with regard to the price of products/services referred to in this publication. Apps Weekly, collecting together challenging puzzles to test
and websites mentioned in this publication are not under our control. We are not responsible for
their contents or any other changes or updates to them. This magazine is fully independent and some of your most loved fiction yourself with. Why not treat
not affiliated in any way with the companies mentioned herein.
in one handy volume. Plus, yourself to a relaxing break
every issue you’ll also find four with them today?
Enjoy the issue!
PLUS
4 new
Fcoumtuprea npylc q isu oa tpeudb olinc the Non-execuCtihveie cf heaxeircmuatinv eR Zicilhlaahrd B Hynugn-tTinhgofronred April stories this
L(soynmdboonl :S FtUocTkR )Exchange Chief financial officer Penny Ladkin-Brand issue!
www.futureplc.com Tel [phone]
Part of the
Editor April Madden
PS If you’re in the UK, our
next issue will be on sale
on 4th August 2022.
Look out for it in your local
bookazine series shops. If you’re having
any trouble finding it, you
can order online at www.
magazinesdirect.com
Woman’s Weekly Fiction 3
CONTENTS
5 Cats and frogs
by Andrew Savage
It was sure to be a disaster
6 Stepping out
Part 1
by Geraldine Ryan
A new life beckons
9 Dreaming of the
Taj Mahal
by Linda Lewis
Would Dawn ever see it? Page 46
10 Ezra’s stories
Page 12
by Claire Buckle 46 The final call
Such precious memories by T Orr Munro
She couldn’t let her daughter down
12 Carnival float 24 A yogi in the
by Verity Evans NEW garden 48 Vegas lounge
Haanah takes the plunge by Matthew Batham by Ellie Curzon NEW
Jess meets a hunky stranger…
Jeannie’s big break
16 Long lost
Part 1 26 Long lost 50 Stepping out
Part 2
by Teresa Ashby Part 4
Something didn’t feel right by Teresa Ashby by Geraldine Ryan
Leigh is troubled
A star is born
19 Pillow talk
by Eirin Thompson 30 Stuck in the mud 54 Skye traffic
Were they getting boring? by Nina Mattielo Azadeh NEW by M.G. DeSantis NEW
Auntie’s secret revealed
Claire makes a connection
20 Stepping out
Part 2 32 Queen bee 56 Left field
by Geraldine Ryan by Amanda Batham by Sue Teddern
Page 30
Nothing would derail her dreams Could Evie’s dream come true? Time for some home truths
34 Flower power 60 42 Long lost
Part 4
by Margaret Skipworth
by Teresa Ashby
How did they get there?
The secret is out
36 Stepping out
Part 3 64 The good friend
by Geraldine Ryan by Judy Summers
Carrie escapes her family Times were hard
39 First job Puzzles
by Alison Carter
14 N ame the country,
Was her daughter ready to grow find the word
up? 23 Crossword
29 Brain teaser
42 Long lost 40 Codebreaker,
Part 3 odd one out, riddle
53 Masyu
Page 6 by Teresa Ashby 58 Wordsearch
Something has to be done 59 Sudoku
4 Woman’s Weekly Fiction
by Andrew Savage
H
CATS
ow did I let a bit of a dog’s dinner. But
Anthea talk me everyone is enjoying
into this? Why did themselves and smiling
and frogs
I have to go and brightly, and to my surprise
show her my jumping frog? I so am I.
should have just kept quiet. My confidence grows, and
Then none of this would have Cynthia’s presentation was I regain full control
happened. But now I’m a of my fingers. So it’s time now
nervous wreck. Why on sure to be a disaster and to show them my pièce de
earth did I agree to do a résistance – the jumping frog.
presentation for the someone in particular would Whoops of laughter fill the
Sandiham Create hall when my finished frog
and Craft Club? be there to gloat leaps across the stage like
It’s six o’clock already. it’s alive.
I have to be at the village ‘Thank you for having me,’
hall at seven. Oh heck! suddenly seems twice as big. Simms. And she’s glaring like I say, relieved it’s all over,
What a nightmare. Rows of women – and I’m something the cat’s just but also proud of myself.
I’ve been practising all day, a few men – sit facing the dragged in. There’s a thunderous
but it’s no good. I’ve never stage, all waiting to see An urge to flee grips me. round of applause. I wasn’t
spoken in public before. I’ll my presentation. So many But I can’t do that to Anthea. expecting that and I feel
make a total fool of myself. I butterflies are flapping inside So I grit my teeth. a lump come to my throat.
just know it. my stomach, there’s barely ‘Er… let me start by Afterwards, everyone
Grasping my mobile, I call room for a sip of coffee. showing you how to make gathers round to show me
Anthea, who runs the club. The proceedings begin with something easy,’ I say. their efforts. And they are
‘I’m really sorry,’ I say, ‘I don’t an introduction from Anthea, My fingers and thumbs all positively glowing.
think I can do it.’ then she turns to me… are trembling, and I fumble Anthea gives me a big
‘But everyone is looking ‘I’d like you My heart and shake, but smile. ‘Well done, Cynth.’
forward to seeing you,’ all to give a thankfully, Then, just as I’m about
says Anthea. I can hear the warm welcome thudding, I still manage to to leave, I feel a tap on my
pleading in her voice. ‘We’ll to Cynthia make it. shoulder. I turn around and
I step onto
make you feel very welcome, Jones,’ she says, ‘A penguin.’ Evelyn Simms is staring
I promise. We’re ever such ‘who’s going to the stage Some of the straight at me.
a nice bunch.’ show us how audience Oh well, I think to myself,
A nice bunch? You must she does her quite wonderful gasp excitedly, and they whatever horrible thing she’s
be kidding! Evelyn Simms is origami.’ She hands out look delighted with their about to say, I’m not going
one of them. The woman who squares of paper to everyone, own penguins. Except for to let it ruin my evening.
lives opposite. She’s never so they can fold along Evelyn Simms, that is, who ‘That was wonderful,
had a nice word to say to with me. hasn’t even bothered trying to Cynthia,’ she says. ‘I really
me since I moved here last My heart thudding, I step make one. enjoyed it.’
year, just after my divorce. onto the stage. A sea of faces I show them how to make I can hardly believe
I’m not good enough for stares back at me. But there’s a cat next. It’s more difficult, my ears.
her, I can tell. She scowls at only one I recognise. Evelyn and some turn out to be ‘Thank you, Evelyn,’
me through the net curtains I reply. ‘And please, call
every time I step outside. me Cynth.’
And the thought of her beady ‘And just call me Eve,’
eyes scrutinising me tonight says Evelyn. ‘You must
makes my stomach squirm. come round to ours for
‘Listen, Cynth,’ says Anthea, dinner soon.’ Her cheeks
Y
GETT ‘it would mean so much to turn slightly pink. ‘I’ve
O: me if you could do this. How been meaning to ask you
OT
2. PH about I give you a lift?’ for ages.’
2 I feel so guilty. I don’t ‘I’d love to, Eve,’ I say.
0
2
D, want to let Anthea down. So, as well as penguins,
MITE She’s the only friend I’ve got cats and frogs, it seems
NG LI around here. tonight I’ve also made a
HI
S ‘OK,’ I say. ‘I’ll do it.’ brand-new friend.
UBLI ✢✢✢✢✢ THE END
URE P Sandiham Village Hall Andrew Savage, 2022
UT
© F
Woman’s Weekly Fiction 5
STEPPING
Out
Carried along by her dreams of stardom,
Carrie hadn’t really considered the consequences
of her life-changing decision
C
arrie threw herself helped with everything else what to do by
onto the bed that needed doing, couldn’t their elders and
SERIAL
in despair, the stop talking about the show. betters. They
memory of Father’s Not that either of them might not be PART
furious face as he loomed had dared discuss how able to afford
ONE
over her still vivid, his entertaining it was in front nights out to the big
words still ringing in her of Mother, Father’s loyal spy. city for entertainment, These days done
ears. Thoughtless. Callous. Father, as vicar of St Mary’s, like the bosses. But the barefoot, after one too
Uncaring. Degenerate. the largest parish in the town ordinary folk of Sittingford many visitations from Mother,
That last one really stung. of Sittingford, had opposed believed themselves deserving rapping on her bedroom door
Even more than the blow the refurbishment of the rickety of every bit as much fun as irate, demanding to know what
to her face. old Assembly Rooms with a their employers. on earth all the noise was.
He’d never struck her before vengeance. Some time in the Carrie had cheered, silently, If only she hadn’t hung back
and his action had drawn a middle of the war the decision the day news came through at the stage door after the
shocked gasp from Mother. had been made to close it. that the refurbishment was show had ended, to say just
Yet she hadn’t intervened. As But then, with the advent going ahead. Every day, while how much she’d enjoyed the
far as Mother was concerned, of the 1920s, the new town out on her errands, she would show, she’d have got back to
Father made the rules and the council arrived, determined take a detour past the building the house in time to take tea
rules came straight from God. to inject a large dose of to check on the progress of with Mrs Murray. It wasn’t as
How could her day have enthusiastic optimism into the workmen. The future has if she hadn’t known about the
taken such a downward a community brought low arrived, they whispered, and visit in advance, or that she
spiral? Her afternoon at the by years of grieving. you must grasp it. was expected to be there.
theatre had been blissful, a It was Father, enraged It had taken today’s matinee In fact, it had been hanging
magical interlude in another by the idea of public money to reveal to her exactly how. over her like a dark cloud
humdrum day. being wasted on what he Watching Yakov’s Young ever since Mother had read
Curiosity had pulled her described as ‘unnecessary Ladies go through their song- her Mrs Murray’s letter. She’d
inside the Assembly Rooms gentrification’ when there was and-dance routines, she’d held planned a visit to Sittingford
where the last but one so much real want in the town, her breath, imagining herself to stay with a friend, she’d
performance of a touring who had led up there with written, and she’d very much
Father made
entertainment – Yakov’s the opposition. them, revelling like to drop in at the vicarage
Variety Show – was taking Perhaps, the rules and in the audience’s to pay her respects.
place. How could she not before the war, rapturous Her respects. Carrie knew
succumb, given the publicity Father and his the rules applause. By the what that meant. She would
that preceded their visit and cronies would time the curtain sit there, still dressed in her
came straight
the ecstatic reviews heaped have won came down she mourning black, sniffing into
upon them by the local paper, the argument. from God was certain this her handkerchief while she
while doing her rounds visiting But times had was her destiny. eulogised the memory of
Father’s parishioners? changed. People had had She could dance every bit her son, Arthur. Poor Arthur
Mrs Heggarty, who came enough of putting up and as well as those girls. Didn’t Murray, who’d died right at
to clean the vicarage three shutting up. No longer were she spend hours in her room the end of the war. He’d been
times a week, and Susan, who they so keen on being told practising her own routines? a nice boy, Father’s curate.
6 Woman’s Weekly Fiction
by Geraldine Ryan
Carrie didn’t drink. But and Father stilled, although
The Railway Hotel was a the echo of Mrs Murray’s sour
respectable establishment. presence still lingered. She’d
Didn’t the Bishop stay there sat there in the drawing room,
when he visited Father at the apparently, for a good hour,
vicarage on church business? glancing at the clock, waiting
It had been such fun in the for Carrie to appear. Mother,
bar of the hotel. The girls had so she said, would never
burst through the doors, taking get over the shame and was
Carrie with them, laughing certain that Mrs Murray would
and chattering 10 to the never grace their drawing room
dozen, turning every staid old again. It was then that Carrie,
head and immediately taking still giddy from the port she’d
ownership of the place. drunk, had giggled ‘Good
To accept a glass of port riddance’. The very remark
and lemon, which was what that had induced Father to
the other girls were drinking, administer that furious blow.
seemed simply polite. If Mother Up in her bedroom, Carrie
and Father drank the stuff, then imagined them both sitting
what could possibly be wrong opposite each other, each in
with it, she asked herself. their own wing chair. Mother
The girls had one last with her head bent over her
performance before the show sewing, pretending everything
He’d been so agonisingly into her head. More than moved to their next venue and was back to normal, Father
sweet on her that Carrie had anything, she needed to show they needed to break the party in his usual position, staring
found herself dreading finding her appreciation of the chorus up or they’d be in trouble with straight ahead with his eyes
herself alone with him, in case line for their sheer brilliance. Mr Yakov, who was a stickler, closed, waiting for direction
he should ask her to be his Once at the stage door, according to the friendliest from the Lord about how to
sweetheart. Carrie couldn’t however, she realised she of the girls, who’d introduced steer his wayward daughter
ever have fallen in love with wasn’t the only stage-struck herself as Belle. onto the right path.
him. Of course, she had never loon. She was just beginning ‘Don’t you ever get tired of In a short time, Mother
wanted him to be killed. But to wonder if her behaviour living out of a suitcase?’ Carrie, would put down her sewing,
there it was. He’d died; not in could be interpreted as emboldened by her alcoholic incline her head towards
battle, but of influenza as he terribly common, when the drink, had asked her, after Father and say the words she
was sailing home to England. girls came swarming out, listening to her list all the places said every night at this time.
And now, it seemed, she all talking and laughing at where they’d be performing on ‘Time for bed, I think,
was expected to be beholden the tops of their voices. their tour of the country. my dear.’
to Arthur’s memory for the But when two of the girls Belle had raised her And then she would rise,
rest of her life, and take tea directed friendly smiles her way eyebrows and shaken her shake the cushion behind
with his mother whenever and asked if she’d enjoyed head so that her auburn curls her and replace it ready for
she deigned to drop by. No the show, she felt glad she’d danced from side to side. next day. Father would follow
doubt so that Mrs Murray decided to come and say ‘Tired? Oh my days, no. five minutes later, after he’d
could check that Carrie was hello. They’d been delighted It’s the life, I tell you. I’ve checked on the new electrics
still being faithful to her son’s by her flattery and called done enough of that sitting at and made sure the doors were
memory by rejecting any their friends over to introduce home malarkey waiting for locked and bolted.
other matrimonial offers. Well, themselves. That would have something exciting to happen,’ If Arthur had survived and
fat chance of those, given been enough for Carrie. She’d she said. ‘I make good returned to the parish, who
how the wretched war had so have gone home happy, in money and that means I’m knows, she may have ended
heavily depleted the county’s time for tea with Mrs Murray independent. And I don’t have up feeling obliged to accept
population of young men. and what happened next no husband or parents telling his proposal. There’d been
So, although the thought would have been avoided. me what to do neither.’ some talk, lately, of replacing
of Mrs Murray’s visit had But then the girls threw And with that she’d drained poor Arthur with another
been squatting somewhere at out the invitation to join her drink and stood up to curate. Her Father had done
the back of her head, it had them at The Railway Hotel, leave, beckoning to the others, very well without a curate
quickly faded once the curtain and refused to take no for who began to get up, grab these past few years, thanks
fell. As the applause died an answer. A little light their bags and follow her out. to much of the routine work
down and the lights came refreshment after the show, The house was quiet now. having been doled out to
up, a strange notion popped was how it was described. The raised voices of Mother Continued overleaf
Woman’s Weekly Fiction 7
by Geraldine Ryan
Carrie and her mother. But breath, her eyes making too late. In no time she was
with her last suitor dead, out the outline of a man, being dragged towards
perhaps her parents were his head bent in shadow, a small, rotund man, a
in cahoots to find her a while he saw to the cigarillo hanging out of
replacement. Carrie was 22 business of locking the his mouth.
now, well of an age to marry. door, then posting the keys When Belle introduced
The prospect of marrying through the letter box. She her as a promising new
a replica of Arthur made coughed politely to catch dancer, looking for a job, all
her shudder. his attention. It worked. He Carrie could do was nod and
No! That was not the turned his head and spoke, grin. She thought she’d pass
future for her! She thought his manner unnervingly curt. out in fear when Mr Yakov
of the emotions she’d felt ‘Can I help you?’ his watch up to his face and turned to her and, after
at the Assembly Rooms, ‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’ screwed up his eyes. eyeing her up and down
waiting for the show to She felt suddenly flustered, ‘We’ve got half an hour for a full minute, asked her
begin. A bubbling tension as if the magic potion she’d before the 11.30 to what she’d done before.
that exploded as the curtain drunk earlier in the day had Market Milton.’ Before she could admit
rose, revealing the chorus worn off, bringing her down Market Milton! Yes! Now she hadn’t actually done
girls, in their Pierrot costumes, to earth with a bump. It had she remembered what the anything, Belle spoke.
confidently beaming, certain been a crazy notion to creep girls had said. The man ‘Jacob,’ she said. ‘There’s
that before their first number out of the house, carrying set off walking. Should she no need to terrify the poor
was up, they’d have the nothing but a small suitcase follow him? It flitted through girl. We all know you’re a girl
audience in the palm of hastily stuffed with minimum her mind that here she was, down since Mavis ran off
their hands. She wanted clothes and a hairbrush. a young woman, alone with that sailor. Give the girl
this. Carrie wanted it like ‘Which is it, then?’ on the empty street with a a chance, why don’t you?’
she’d never wanted anything He was walking towards stranger at 11 o’ clock. But Carrie marvelled at the
before. And she was going her now, though it was more he’d come from the Assembly ease with which Belle
to get it. In one hour’s time, of a hobble than a walk. Rooms and he knew the next addressed her employer. He
when the house was asleep, ‘I was looking for the destination of the performers. stood there, considering her
she would make her escape. entertainers,’ she said. ‘Mr He had to be trustworthy, words, puffing on his cigarillo
Yakov’s Variety Show.’ she reasoned. thoughtfully. Belle turned to
The travelling entertainers’ ‘And what do you want Carrie and gave her a sly
next venue was… was… Oh, with them?’ Given that her companion wink that seemed to say ‘He’s
what a fool she was! Why Close up she could see he had refused to engage in putty in my hands’.
hadn’t she listened more wasn’t an old man, despite conversation on the journey ‘You can dance, I take it?’
carefully to the So, this was it. his odd way to the station, Carrie had Belle gave her a sharp dig.
girls instead of of walking. ample time to reconsider This was her chance. Either
getting lost in The end of her She’d have her folly. The cold feet she she made an impression or
their fascinating put him at 28, was suffering on this dark, she’d be back home sleeping
old life and
stories of maybe 30. damp night were as literal in her own bed tonight. She
theatrical life the start of A chill wind as they were metaphorical. knew which one it had to be.
and imagining had sprung What was she doing, ‘I’m not the best,’ she said.
herself part her new one up, driving she wondered as they ‘But I always work hard and
of the gang, a lick of dark approached the platform? I’m a quick learner.’
Y
simply having a drink before hair into his eyes, which he Yes, she may have been For a moment it looked as ER
T
they all moved on? brushed back in an irritated born with flexible limbs and if he were about to send her AT
SL
And now all the lights at manner. He looked ready the ability to pick up a tune packing. And then he spoke. A
R
A
the Assembly Rooms were for his bed and here she was on a single hearing. But ‘It’s your lucky day,’ he S: Z
out and the streets were keeping him away from it. a few ballet lessons with said. ‘Mine too, since Mavis N
O
deserted. They must have Still, he could at least pretend Madame Laure as a child left without her train ticket.’ ATI
R
already left, leaving her to be polite. didn’t qualify her to perform So, this was it. The end of UST
behind with nothing but ‘I want to join them,’ she to a paying audience. her old life and the start of 2. ILL
2
the prospect of a dreary said, deciding she had Perhaps, if Belle hadn’t her new one. As the train 0
2
estniflginaggleym beonrti ntog wcuhriacthee vheerr no‘tWhinegll, myooure’v eto c loomsee. to the lboeofkoered durpa gagndin gsp hoettre bda hcekr chaermseel fi nbtoei nthge psutasthioend, fsohrew faerldt , G LIMITED
father chose for her next. wrong place,’ he said. ‘They’ll inside the circle of noisy girls into an empty carriage. There N
HI
But wait! Who was this? be at the station by now.’ from which she’d emerged, was no turning back now. BLIS
Sao smideeo dnoe owr.a Ssh lee ahveinldg hbeyr of Hheis hthikine dja ucpk etth, eb sroleuegvhet tthaeiln a Cnda rflrieed m. Biguht t nhoawve i tt uwrnaesd COGNeTraINldUinEeD R OyaNn ,P A20G2E0 20 UTURE PU
© F

8 Woman’s Weekly Fiction
by Linda Lewis
2012 Dreaming As Dawn looked at
Dawn picked up the glossy her husband, a wave of
travel brochure. ‘I’ve of the emotion overwhelmed
always dreamt of going her. The love she felt for this
to India and seeing the man seemed to grow
TAJ MAHAL
Taj Mahal. For me, it’s stronger as each year
the most romantic place passed. Each time she
in the world.’ looked into his eyes,
Harry had taken her she gave thanks he was
Would Dawn ever see the most
hand. ‘I know, sweetheart, finally well again, that the
but we can’t afford it, not months of treatment and
romantic place in the world?
if we want to get a place of uncertainty were over.
our own. We’ll get there ‘We could just about
one day.’ afford India,’ he said.
They ended up going knows that it’s my dream to 2019 ‘That’s if you still want to go.’
on honeymoon in Palma. go there.’ ‘We’ve done it!’ said Harry That iconic image of the
The sun shone, the waves ‘Your sister’s thoughtless, after checking the figures Taj Mahal leapt unbidden
lapped. She was with the and her husband’s a…’ twice. ‘We’ve finally saved into her mind, but it wasn’t
man she loved, but a tiny part She cut him off. ‘She’s not up enough money to go the one with Princess Diana.
of her wished they’d been like that. We used to be so to India.’ It was the one with her sister,
able to go to India instead. close, but she’s changed since Dawn squealed. ‘Really? sitting on that same bench, all
✢✢✢✢✢ marrying Clive.’ Are you sure?’ on her own.
2015 He took her in his arms. ‘I’m sure!’ But a shadow Tricia’s marriage to Clive
‘You should have seen it, Sis. ‘I’m sorry we can’t afford crossed his face as he said it. hadn’t lasted…
The Taj Mahal is so much posh holidays.’ ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘We went to all these exotic
more than the photos. It’s true ‘It’s OK.’ She lowered her ‘I’ve been thinking about places but for all the love
what they say – you have to voice to a whisper. ‘I’d rather us wanting a family. We and attention he gave me,
be there.’ go to the Isle of Wight with should see the doctor, find out I might as well have been on
Dawn swallowed a you than Machu Picchu why we can’t get pregnant. my own,’ Tricia had confided
melon-sized gulp of envy. She with Clive. I don’t know how If there’s a problem, we to Dawn.
loved her sister, but that didn’t Tricia puts up with him. All could use the money for But then they had burst
mean she wasn’t annoying. he talks about is how much IVF treatment.’ out laughing the way they
Tricia knew how much Dawn things cost.’ When the tests came used to before Clive came
wanted to go to India. It ‘Come on, love,’ Harry back, the doctor talked to along, because Tricia was
had been her dream ever grinned. ‘We’d better get them about the results. ‘It’s now dating a primary school
since she was six years old. back. Hopefully they’ll have probably nothing,’ he said, teacher. He didn’t have
As they sat watching the moved on to Goa by now.’ ‘but we’d like to investigate.’ much money, but she was
long holiday video, Dawn But they hadn’t. As they But it wasn’t nothing. happy. In the end, that was
clutched Harry’s hand. ‘It walked into the living room, ✢✢✢✢✢ all that mattered.
looks amazing, Tricia,’ she Clive gave Dawn a big smile. 2022 ‘You know what I’d like
managed to say. ‘Ah, there you are. I put ‘Where shall we go on to do?’ Dawn now said to
‘The best bit is still to come,’ the film on hold until you holiday? It’s our 10th wedding Harry. ‘I would like to go to
her brother-in-law replied, came back.’ anniversary so it needs to be the hotel where we spent our
rather smugly, she thought. ✢✢✢✢✢ somewhere special.’ honeymoon.’
What she saw next took ‘Really? Are you sure?’
her breath away. They’d She nodded. ‘I’m sure.’
recreated the iconic photo of ‘But what about India?
Princess Diana sitting alone You’ve been dreaming
Y
GETT on the bench in front of the about the Taj Mahal for
O: Taj Mahal. Only, this time it years – you called it the most
OT
2. PH was just Tricia. romantic place in the world.’
2 It was too much for her. She reached for his hand.
0
2
D, ‘I need a glass of water,’ ‘I was wrong. The most
MITE Dawn blurted, darting for romantic place in the world
NG LI the kitchen. is right here, in this room.
HI
S Harry followed her. ‘Are Because that’s where you are.’
URE PUBLI yoDu aOwKn, nloovded?e’d. ‘Tricia LindaT HLeEw EiNs, D2022
UT
© F
Woman’s Weekly Fiction 9
E
zra’s been on it, Louise.’
a poppet, as It was clear Anne
always,’ Anne believed the
said when practicalities were
I arrived at her putting me off, which
house to collect was partly true.
my son. Another reason was
On the days far more personal.
I worked, my ex- Despite this, I didn’t
mother-in-law picked want her to think I
him up from school. was being stubborn.
She smiled ‘OK,’ I’d said,
indulgently. ‘He did ‘I’ll think it over.’
some drawing and ‘So what about it?’
I read him some of Anne’s voice brought
the stories. Of me back to the
course, he wanted present.
his favourite one I took a deep
read twice.’ breath. ‘I’m sorry,
‘Thanks, Anne,’ Anne, but I’m not
I replied, with a knot going to self-publish.’
of anxiety in my She sighed. ‘Can
chest, knowing she’d I ask why?’
soon be asking what EZRA’S I wanted to move
I’d decided on from the past. It was why I
to do about the stories. left the folder at Anne’s. But
I followed her into the stories instead of saying so, I voiced
lounge, where my five-year- other concerns. ‘You only
old was sitting on the floor, have to glance at social
intent on building media to see how much
a tower of red Lego bricks. promotion is involved, which
They were such precious
‘Hello, Poppet,’ I said. might mean curiosity about
He looked up and Ezra…’
memories, but how could Louise
grinned. ‘Mummy!’ Ezra’s shrieking interrupted
We hugged for me as his squash spilt over
capture them forever?
a moment before he the carpet. He stuck out his
wriggled away. ‘Did you bottom lip. ‘Sor-wee.’
have a nice day at school?’ Anne came in with a tray enthused about a woman ‘Never mind, pet, it was an
He nodded and went back of tea and biscuits, and from her book group, whose accident,’ Anne said, going to
to his tower. a cup of orange squash. self-published children’s stories get up.
‘Tea?’ Anne said. ‘Greg phoned last night,’ were selling well. ‘I’ll see to it.’ I dashed to the
‘Please.’ I perched on the she said, putting the tray on ‘Ezra’s Stories would make kitchen for a cloth. Glad of the
sofa, unable to relax. On the the table. ‘I mentioned my a lovely book. They’re just distraction, I called out, ‘When
coffee table lay the green file idea about publishing and as good, if not better than, I’ve cleaned up we’d better
containing Ezra’s Stories, the he said he’ll leave it up to you, Jean’s,’ she’d said excitedly. get going, otherwise we’ll hit
15 tales I’d printed out a year but he’s happy to pay.’ Self-publishing had never the traffic.’
ago, featuring a fictional Ezra. ‘Did he?’ I said, sipping crossed my mind, and I doubted That evening, when Ezra
My son’s favourite, Ezra’s my tea. Since it would have was in bed, I sat down with
Unexpected tears
Easter Surprise, featured the divorce crossed a glass of wine to watch a
a little boy finding his mum’s he’d often pricked my eyes Anne’s if it TV show where craftspeople
long-lost necklace while on an offered more hadn’t been restored treasured items
Easter-egg hunt in the garden. than the agreed maintenance, for Jean’s success. I’d shaken belonging to members of the
Greg had bought me a gold as though money could my head. ‘That’s great news public. What interested me
locket when our son was born, compensate. Still, I was for Jean but it’s not something I most was a family Bible with
identical to the one described relieved he’d left the decision want to do.’ a ragged cover and broken
in the story. I’d never lost it, to me. Anne’s eyebrows had spine. If Ezra ever had children,
but the story always caused My thoughts went back to knitted together. ‘Jean said it’s a plastic file and sheets of A4
a stab of hurt in my chest. yesterday, when Anne had not complicated. At least sleep was hardly an heirloom.
10 Woman’s Weekly Fiction