Journey to the Centre of Myself Read online

  Contents

  Happy Reading!

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Enjoyed Journey? Read Underneath.

  Also by Andie M. Long

  About the Author

  Happy Reading!

  JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF MYSELF

  by Andie M. Long

  Dedication

  For anyone at the end of one journey, about to embark on another.

  I wish you health and happiness.

  Acknowledgements

  This book wouldn’t be here were it not for the awesomeness of Carrie Jones and friends who supported me through Nanowrimo November 2013 on Facebook, care of the brilliantly named Completely Unofficial Cheerleading Group. Thanks also to everyone who ever clicked like or commented on my multiple word count updates that year. It meant a lot. Finally thanks have to be given to my mate Ruth Loizides whose constant nagging for ‘Have you written some more yet? Get on with it, I’m waiting.’ spurred me on to finish more than she could ever know. Love you mate!

  To Andi Lauren Maddocks. It’s now over three years since I promised to write you into a book. You have an awesome mother, don’t forget it. (Pay me later Sarah).

  As always thank you to my family, friends, bloggers and fellow authors. Special mentions this time to Susan King-Bagshaw and Alison Jill Gaskell who beta read this book for me a long time ago.

  As stated before I wrote this book a long time ago and held back on releasing until I felt the time was right. That time is now. Enjoy.

  Andie

  June 2016

  Chapter 1

  Amber

  On our wedding day, we jumped from a cliff into the sea, dressed in our wedding finery. The surface sparkled with sunshine, and as we spliced through the water, it splashed into the air. Ocean confetti.

  Spontaneity.

  The epitome of us; Will and Amber, together.

  The bricks and mortar of our new home cemented our love.

  Then the walls closed in.

  What happened after? I can liken it to learning to ride a bike again. I wobbled precariously at first, but then my legs steadied and I was off. The breeze exhilarated me and my legs whizzed around like a hamster on a wheel. Of course, then came the burn of the lactic acid and pain invaded my thighs.

  Although the more I did it, the easier it became.

  ‘Oh, my God. You were asleep. You were actually bloody asleep. Amber.’

  ‘Uh?’

  A weight lifts off me as Will rolls onto his own side of the bed. I yawn. It stretches my face so wide, a tear rolls from my eye.

  ‘Well, thanks very much.’

  I reach for him, but he tenses and moves away. I shuffle closer and move my hand down his body.

  ‘Yeah, right, dream on. You had your chance and I bored you.’

  No, actually you didn’t. I clamp my lips together to muffle the sound that threatens to escape.

  ‘Are you laughing?’ Will pounds his fist into the pillow.

  It’s easier to feign a snore.

  He turns over.

  Will is swinging his hips to the Black Eyed Peas, Boom Boom Pow, which pounds through my head as I join him in the kitchen. I angle the blind to reduce the flood of sunshine coming through the window and sit at the table. He slams cupboard doors and sloshes cereal into a bowl. A drop of milk spills over the side where I know it’ll stay. He walks over and releases the blind. It snaps open and light lasers my eyes. I leap back, tipping the chair. I think I may retch.

  Will looks at me with a narrow, flinty stare. He hands me a glass of water followed by two painkillers. ‘What was that all about then?’

  I shrug. Then I mutter under my breath, ‘Maybe now you know how it feels.’

  ‘What was that? You say something?’

  I shake my head from left to right, then wish I hadn’t as I get a shooting pain behind my eye. Holding my head back, I tip the tablets and water down my throat. The cold drink soothes like after-sun lotion on sunburn. I pass him the glass back. ‘Can I have a coffee?’

  He sighs, but walks over to the Tassimo and adds a disc. ‘So, I guess it was a good night?’

  ‘It was alright, nice to let my hair down for a bit.’ I stare at the table and pretend I haven’t noticed his look. We christened this table when we moved in. Now there are boring insurance documents everywhere. I imagine lying on the table, numbers painted on my body in chocolate. He’d probably not notice and ask me what’s for tea. My hand brushes the surface. I push my finger into the grooves made in the walnut, despite my best intentions to keep it pristine. The dints, the scratches and the ink marks from where Will has left the top off his pens taunt me, boring new signs forever to remain.

  ‘It was a bit sad, them all leaving at once. They got a pen each. A crappy pen after all that time.’

  ‘You did the best you could with that whip-round at such short notice.’

  ‘Yes, well, I wouldn’t have made such an effort if I’d known Smithy would spend it on pens.’

  ‘Maybe they’ll write their next job application out with it? Then it’ll become their lucky pen.’

  I sigh. ‘Maybe they’ll take it back and exchange it for tablets and a bottle of cheap vodka.’

  He eye rolls. ‘You’re so dramatic.’

  My lip trembles with either emotion or lack of food. It’s hard to know which. ‘It’s just that replacing everyone with temps makes me feel like Judas or something. I felt guilty being there last night.’ I get up and collect my coffee. I pick up the carton of milk Will’s left on the side again and exhale.

  ‘I knew you’d need it so I left it out ready.’

  ‘Course you did.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘I know. You left it out.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean.’

  I note he is wearing the same Saturday uniform, an old t-shirt with holes and worn jeans. When did this routine kick in?

  ‘So did Olly come round?’

  He looks at me like a radiographer assessing a disease.

  It was years ago now, can’t you forget it?

  ‘Nah, Alfie was grizzly. Sam wanted him to stay.’

  I stifle yet another yawn. ‘What are we doing today?’

  ‘B&Q for laminate.’

  I groan. ‘You are joking aren’t you? I want some fuuuunnn.’

  ‘I want to get the spare room sorted. You, my lovely lady, are on “move the junk” duty.’

  ‘Thought I’d failed that last night by falling asleep?’

  Will raises an eyebrow at me. ‘You’re just so funny.’

  I touch his arm. ‘It’s such a lovely day. Let’s go up to the coast, it’s only an hour. We can walk along the beach and I can clear my head.’ The right side of my temple throbs and
I place my fingers on it and rub.

  ‘I want to get this done. It’s time we got it cleared, ready for—’

  ‘I’m gonna go back to bed.’ I walk away.

  I get down under the covers and shut my eyes. Thoughts of the evening before surface.

  I’d been in the loo redoing my lippy during the most boring leaving-do known to man. When I came out, the seats were empty, with no sign of my colleagues.

  I looked around, scanning the room, the entrance. Unable to spot anyone familiar I moved to check out the bar. The queues were five deep. Sweat ran down my back and I was grateful I’d chosen to wear a loose fitting tunic top. I manoeuvred my way nearer the bar and then stood on my tiptoes, trying to peer at the front.

  ‘Do you want me to get you a drink?’ said a husky voice to my right.

  I looked at him. Taller than me, perhaps five-foot-ten? He ran his fingers through his short, spiky light brown hair. I wondered if it was immovable. There was an uneven line to his nose. He smiled at me; blue eyes crinkled and turned his face into a world of happy. I looked at the lips that had formed the words; top lip narrow, bottom lip full.

  I should go. But I can’t go home now. I need to watch for my colleagues.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Sorry. Yes. Red wine, please,’ I shouted back and tried to hand over a fiver.

  ‘No, keep it. It’s on me,’ he said, shaking his head from side to side and pointing to his chest in case I couldn’t hear him. As he passed me the glass, he tilted his head towards me and whispered, ‘Lucky, lucky wine getting to slide down the throat of such a gorgeous woman.’

  I should have insulted him for such a crass comment, or shown him the platinum band that tethers me to Will. However, last night it brought to mind bindweed, pretty to look at but potentially suffocating. So I’d taken a sip of the wine, run my tongue around my lips, closed my eyes and gone ‘mmmm’.

  When I reopened them, I’d watched his breath hitch. I laughed and walked away.

  I didn’t find my colleagues.

  The last of what I remember: a darkened corner of the club, my hand stroking spiky strands, kissing until my mouth felt swollen. Like a sparkler holding on until I was too near to the heat, then letting go.

  Will walks into the room. I startle, touching my throat. ‘God, you made me jump.’

  He places a fresh coffee at the side of the bed and then sits beside me. His fingers push my long auburn fringe behind my ear, and then drop to pat the duvet cover. ‘Is this it for the day then?’

  ‘Why don’t you join me? I’m sober now.’

  ‘Can’t. Things to do.’

  I sit up and lean against the headboard, counting my breaths until the threatening tears recede. ‘Well, if we aren’t going to the beach, I may as well go back to sleep.’

  ‘What about tidying the spare room?’

  ‘I’ll do it later. There’s no mad rush is there?’

  ‘Well actually, that’s something I want to talk to you about...’

  My phone beeps, indicating a message. I glance around. My handbag is at the side of the doorway. Will gazes at me with his serious face so I ignore it and listen.

  ‘You know how you’re twenty-nine now?’

  ‘I’m hardly going to forget my age. I’m twenty-nine, not seventy-nine.’ The hairs on my neck stand up as I’m not sure I like where this conversation may be headed. I run my hands through my hair. My scalp is tender to the touch.

  ‘And I’m thirty-one...’

  ‘I’m really tired, Will.’

  He ignores me. ‘So I think we should try for a baby.’

  I cross my arms over my chest. ‘Are you fucking kidding me? You realise how you make a baby don’t you?’

  ‘You fell asleep on me.’

  ‘Is this about Olly, or us? Are we competing again?’

  I see a flicker of something on Will’s face, but within a second it’s gone.

  ‘No. I think it’s time.’

  I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, hugging them towards me. ‘Look, I can’t do this right now, my head’s killing. Can we talk later, please?’

  ‘Well, it’s not a no,’ he says walking off. He turns back to me as he reaches the doorway. ‘I’m off to the shops.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  I push my head under the duvet. I need the beach; the hot sand burning my feet and exfoliating the skin, renewing and softening. The sea breeze would have cleared my head, the waves resonated their relaxing lullaby. But no, another twenty-four hours I can’t get back, time wasted on manmade materials.

  I think about the word, manmade. I whisper it. It makes my lips smack as I say it. Manmade. It’s a sensual word. A powerful word. Our decisions are manmade. Do I get a say at all? I repeat the word manmade out loud, a mechanical wave which I oscillate through to almost silent and back again. Amber is here, now she is disapppppeeeaaarrriing, now I am here. I sense the muscles at the back of my neck tighten. I don’t think the Paracetamols will be of any use now.

  We said we’d have three children, in those heady early days, when my heart thudded through my chest and my stomach fluttered when I saw or thought of him.

  I remember his proposal in front of the Eiffel Tower as the clock struck midnight. The lights danced and sparkled along its frame, and he presented me with a ring to match its dazzle and brought the same to my eyes.

  Now, when I eventually hear the door bang shut, I sigh with relief and get out of bed to check my mobile.

  It’s him. I must have given him my mobile number. Idiot.

  My stomach flutters as I picture his face. My mouth waters. I place my hand on my chest and watch it rise and fall as my heart beats faster.

  This is where it started.

  Chapter 2

  Karen

  I’m leaving my husband today.

  Adrian is both a liar and a cheat. I have the evidence on screen. Placed on the kitchen table, the laptop is open and positioned to my left. Put there and tilted, for ease of display.

  The paperwork I need lies on the table to my right.My case is packed and ready.

  I stop myself from tapping my foot on the floor; it sounds like a moth hitting the light fitting. I have been waiting for an hour, fidgeting; getting a glass of water, collecting the post and looking at myself in the mirror—telling myself I can do this.

  Jeremy Kyle drones through the wall. I resent my neighbour invading my silent protest.

  My gaze returns to the tablecloth. Whatever possessed me to buy this checked monstrosity? It dazzles my eyes as I retrace the patterns, following the lines. I glance up at the cobalt blue, shiny, kitchen cupboards. I had loved these. Now I see them as a waste of money, precious resources, oceans of opportunities lost.

  A key turns in the lock. Feet wipe the mat. The light thud of a bag placed on the floor, then a pause.

  Slow footsteps approach the kitchen. The handle turns, the door swings open and a face peers at me, blue eyes crinkled with confusion. ‘Karen? What are you doing home?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘I could say the same about you.’

  He stares at me, trying to read my face, to find words that can help with his answer. ‘I’ve got a migraine coming on.’

  ‘Really?’ I press a key and the computer screen flashes to life, and then he knows I know.

  ‘Ah.’

  We stand and face each other, still and silent.

  The phone rings. Our gaze moves towards the lounge and back to each other. I break eye contact first and walk to answer it. I can’t leave a phone ringing.

  It’s Steve.

  ‘Hi, bliss.’

  ‘Now's not a good time, can I call you back?’

  He ignores me like bossy older brothers do. ‘It’s just a quickie to ask how Friday went.’

  ‘Not right now.’

  ‘Is he there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Not at work, again?’

  I sigh. ‘I thought you were coming to my do anyway?’

/>   ‘Something came up.’

  ‘Well, you missed nothing.’ I glare at the pen I had thrown on the desk in disgust. I push it and watch it roll off into the waste bin. Then I glance through the door at Adrian. He’s sending a text.

  ‘Karen, you there?’

  ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘Did he go with you?’

  I hesitate before I reply. ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, Kaz, he’s a waste of DNA. When are you going to realise?’

  ‘I’ll ring you back.’ I hang up the phone.

  As I return, Adrian moves his mobile into his pocket, and then adjusts his shirt.

  I pick up my mug from the table, ready to take it to the sink. ‘Text who you want. I don’t care anymore.’

  ‘I was checking something love, while you were talking.'

  ‘Was it this?’ I pick up the newspaper from my right and place it in front of him. The racing page, with horses’ names, ringed for every race. ‘How much have you lost this time?’

  ‘Oh, is that what this is about? I’ve not been betting. I pick them to see if they would have won, a bit of fun, you know?’

  ‘Oh yes, we know how much fun you had last time.’

  ‘Come on, love, we’re past that now aren’t we?’

  I press the computer keyboard again; your connection has timed out. I log in once more and point to the online bank statement. ‘Here is our last month’s bank statement. Could you tell me why I can’t see any wages being paid in for the last three weeks?’

  He looks at the floor, then around at the walls. Anywhere but at me. ‘They paid me cash, that’s all. Here.’ He goes into his pocket and lifts out a wad of twenty-pound notes. ‘See?’

  ‘So you’ve been working for the last three weeks?’

  ‘On and off. Things are light on the site, but it’ll pick up.’

  He scratches the back of his neck. ‘What’s started all this?’

  ‘Mrs Dudley asked me if you were okay since you’d been coming back home at eleven every morning.’