Prologue
Nothing has changed in the quaint seaside town of Rosehaven. Everything has changed. Time has moved on. Time has stood still.
The wind, the grey salt-stained buildings, the rocky shores still shape those who call it home. Sea-borne trips doubling as smuggling or people-trafficking routes.
Double lives and double meanings stress to breaking point. Allegiance is demanded from each of the three factions vying for control of the town and its surrounds. The traditionally strict Heritage Front, the fluid anti-trad New Tomorrow and the Return, whose promises of renewal have so far failed to match expectations. Their ideals remain different, but their methods are becoming harder to distinguish.
Locals, however, rarely feel downtrodden. Even when an emergency forced the three factions into creating the Unity Accord, nobody batted an eyelid. On its collapse, when life reverted to faction-riven power grabs, they adjusted course to compensate yet again. Their resilience endured, each coping with the oppression in their own way, regardless of which faction held sway.
Although this story has its own cast, it welcomes several souls, each with their own story. Their paths having never knowingly crossed before. Their lives have unfolded separately beneath the same skies, along the same rocky shoreline.
Chris had discovered that, regardless of how Elma’s concoctions made him feel, he couldn’t really fly, so Elma has thrown herself into grabbing as much power as possible as coven leader. Unlike Elma, Louisa’s natural business sense ensures that she is never out of work, but she remains alone, tied up managing other people’s lives at the expense of her own.
No one ever loved Major Cleverly of Return Intelligence. His talent for intimidation, manipulation, and control eventually earned him the rank of colonel. Recently, however, his attention has shifted from enemies to family, especially his daughter Nina, a natural hyper-schemer and a chip off the old block.
Bill was there to carefully pick up the pieces and gently put Flora back together again after her failed attempt at leading a revolution against the factions, and now handles any freelance gigs that come her way. She hasn’t lost her ability to rise to the occasion, even when the occasion is something nobody else would want to face.
*****
Susan
I’ve never been as tired as this before. I don’t know what’s wrong. Must be another ‘getting older’ thing. The list is getting longer.
Shower, brush my teeth, do my face, fluff my pillows just the way I like them, into bed… Let’s do the steps.
Eyes closed gently, right hand lightly clasping the first two fingers of my left hand on my tummy. Notice the places where I’m touching the bed or the bedclothes. My head, my shoulders, my bum, knees, heels, and toes. Good. Now scan. Nothing in my head feels unusual, except for my thoughts, of course. A little niggle in my neck from this afternoon. Arms okay, chest okay, no sign of that chesty cough I thought I had at the weekend. Stomach fine, all my bits are fine, although feeling a bit unused. Down my legs without a problem and just a flinch where I stubbed my right big toe on the coffee table earlier.
Counting breaths, in 1, out 2, in 3, out 4 ……… out 10. And again. Tonight I’m going to have a deep, restful sleep, forgetting all my worries. Tonight, I’m not dreaming at all. If I do, I’ll dream about cuddly little lambs jumping over a white picket fence or about trying to count sparkling goldfish in an endlessly swirling shoal. Tonight, if I dream the dream, I’ll just let it go. I’ll scoop it up in my hands and blow it away so it vanishes into the night. It’s okay to dream the dream, but if I do, it’ll take a different path. Let it all go … let it all go …
But bang, I’m there again.
The heavy grey clouds hang low, as if they’re falling. Wisps of grey mist drift. The cold, dank air making the weary grey people cough; their sombre clothes, grey, their drab bags, sullen dogs, glum children, and heavy cars, all grey. A scent of decay hangs heavy.
I’m walking along a busy grey street, the crowds glower and walk straight at me, brushing past at the last moment, making me stagger along, pushing against an endless human tide. It’s utterly exhausting.
And there is always someone from the passed with deep and meaningless words of encouragement, an urgent warning, or threat. It could be one of my grandparents, uncles, or aunts. It could be a friend, a colleague, or a classmate. Anyone I’d ever known.
If they’re rotting, they should really be in a fridge rather than out and about, accosting me. Some expect me to stop and pass the time of day when they’re only hanging together by pieces of old sticky tape, having been in an accident or a car crash that only the insurance company said was my fault.
The kids are the worst.
Sometimes I catch them looking for me. Their heads moving with a slow, deliberate purpose, scanning the grey crowd. They pause when they see me, as if confirming a detail.
I remember a time when I was on that grey street, struggling to catch a glimpse of the grey shop windows through the crowd, when Mavis appeared out of nowhere. Mave the Rave, we used to call her back in the day. She loved letting go on the dance floor, E’d off her nut. I can’t think about her without a thumping backbeat and a bass-heavy soundtrack.
When she stood in front of me, grey stars twinkling all around her, it was as if she was some kind of grey fairy princess in a grey fantasy film. She kept flickering as if she was going to disappear, but would suddenly return. Surreal, especially in all that grey, although she could’ve done with a wash. I still remember it as if it happened yesterday.
“Hun, you look awesome,” she beamed, “but you’re looking a bit down, doll. What’s up?” She reached into her bland, grey bag. “I’ve got something that’ll put you right in a jiffy. It’ll get rid of all these worries, you’ll see.” She looked defensive. “Oh, come on, hun. Let me return the favour. You did it enough times for me. Just like old times, eh?”
I wasn’t exactly trying to get away, well I was, but without offending her. Didn’t want to panic, not here in the Grey. I couldn’t work out how much she knew.
I definitely didn’t want anything she wanted to give me, though. That period of my life had ended at the same time she had. Bit of a coincidence.
I was trying really hard to say something, but could only send her my most positive vibes. She had been my besty, but right then, standing twinkling and flickering like that, she was horrifying, and the fact that she’d found me here sent jarring warning signals through every single bone in my body.
That was the only time I really tried to get away from the passed. The thing was, no matter how hard I pushed through the grey crowd that time, she stayed by my side. She was just being the jovial little star she’d always been. Bless her.
I tend not to remember everyone, although I probably could if I tried. There is someone I see regularly, though. His face isn’t grey, but all his clothes are. The way he just stands and looks at me is not scary or anything; in fact, I feel completely calm whenever I see him. He’s always standing beside a huge matte black building that sucks in all the light. More like a hole. It feels so off. Sometimes he waves. Maybe he’s in the same boat as me.
But there’s one that stands out, although I only see her sometimes.
She comes traipsing up to me like she hasn’t a care in the world, eyes shining, a big toothy smile. Well-groomed, she looks like she’s just had her hair done, wearing her favourite bright red coat. It sticks out like a beacon.
“Hiya,” I say as kindly as I can, still being buffeted by the passersby. “How’re you doing? Haven’t seen you for ages.”
I don’t know if the words actually come out. I think they do in my head. She knows, though. She can tell I’m glad to see her and want to know that she’s doing well. There’s so much I want to say. I continue.
“Great to see you. You’re looking better than ever.”
Her grey face shows no emotion whatsoever. “I’ve got to go; lots to do.”
For some reason, her voice brings tears to my eyes. “Please don’t go. I only want to talk to you. Make sure you’re okay.”
But every time without fail, she just turns, face blank, and walks away. Quickly, easily, unimpeded, never looking back, vanishing into the grey like smoke. No sign of the red coat, just the memory, just the grey left all around.
After she’s gone, I feel light, almost overjoyed, completely at odds with the tears or the surrounding grey. I feel lucky, as if I’ve just met the most important person in the world.
But for the life of me, I have no idea who she is.
*****
I know I’ve been in the Grey when I wake up with an overwhelming sense of dread. I know I just have to live with what happened and what’s going on in my life. Sometimes, though, I feel elated, but I have no idea why.
There always seems to be something hovering at the edge of my mind, of my consciousness, but I just can’t seem to grasp it. I’ve tried to talk to some of my close friends about it, but it’s like they know but refuse to tell me what it is. It’s like I’m being excluded somehow.
It’s distracting, but with a self-help book I found in the library, I’m managing to control it more now and am beginning to pull my life back together.
I have to work today. I check that the outfit I wore yesterday still looks okay and look out the window to check it’s okay for the weather. Seems to be.
Bathroom, mirror, facial routine. Kitchen, egg, bread, and coffee. Feed the goldfish. Final mirror check, tie up my uncontrollable hair, and I’m off.
The streets of Seaton look like an autumn month on a calendar. It’s sunny, and the golden leaves lying on the pavements are getting kicked up by the little kids going to the primary school down the road.
Life’s just a game to them.
I need to go to the office this morning, catch up on what’s happening, have a meeting with the boss, and then drive to Rosehaven after lunch.
I love my job in the local council’s admin department. I’m not tied to a desk every day, getting out and about regularly. Everything is getting better in my life, although to be honest, I’m not sure how it went wrong.
“Hello Susan. Lovely morning, isn’t it?” calls Mari Grieves from across the road. “Are you still on for the picnic on Sunday?”
“Morning Mari. Don’t worry. I’ll be there. I’ve started on some snacks already.”
I push on, striding up the road as if I have something urgent to do, nodding and smiling at friends, neighbours and acquaintances as I go.
Mrs Wharburton’s wearing a red coat this morning.
I suddenly realise I’ve stopped and am staring at her with my mouth open. What am I doing? That’s being a bit too odd for this neighbourhood.
What is it?
What’s the matter?
Has Mrs. Wharburton done something?
Nothing comes to mind, but my mind is reaching for something, and it’s getting nowhere.
I put my head down and start my brisk walk again, this time avoiding any pleasantries.
The office is a haven.
I’m glad I’m first in.
I pick up the mail, take off my coat, fill and switch on the kettle, and slump into my chair.
I feel left out. Are they all organising a surprise party for me? Is everyone scheming against me? What have I done to deserve it? I’m not an evil woman. Maybe I’m going mad.
Before I spiral, I see the quotes at the side of my desk from my book, and reality squeezes its way back in and exerts itself.
And breathe.
Then the reality of my coworkers coming in the door with their fluster and flutter and chitter-chatter about anything and everything that comes into their mind that isn’t about the work they have to start in about four minutes.
Something about two of the girls catches my attention.
Julia’s murmuring animatedly to Grace, their heads together.
They get a little louder.
“… and they can just do it, so you forget that you ever loved him.”
“What, so you don’t need to go through all that heartbreak stuff?” says Grace.
“That’s what it says. And guess what? Some say they want to forget their husband’s affair.”
“You can’t be serious! Really? They should take him to the cleaners, then forget him. Honestly, some women, especially in this day and age.”
“What’s that you’re on about, ladies?” I call over. “Sounds interesting.”
Julia’s head snaps up. “Nothing, Susan. Just something someone said in the supermarket about forgetting things.”
Even though I am sitting down, I feel a dizzy turn coming on. They are happening more and more these days. People say it is probably my blood pressure, but I’ve never really had a problem with that. Maybe I should see the doctor.
My boss pops her head out of her office. “Susan, we’re out of biscuits and tea-bags. Could you pop to the shop and get some, please? Take the money out of petty cash.”
“I’ll go right now.”
I leave the office to walk the hundred yards to the corner shop.
Just as I set foot on the pavement, a gust of wind blows a scrap of paper against my leg. I grab it and am just about to throw it away when I see that it is an advert for somewhere in Rosehaven that interprets dreams.
The dizziness returns, so much so that I need to put out my hand and lean against the wall for a few seconds.
I look at the paper again, checking that it has the address.
It does. I could check it out later this afternoon when I am in Rosehaven.
Decision made.
The little bell ‘dings’ as I open the shop door, and I walk straight to the aisle that has the biscuits.
A young man is standing there, trying to make up his mind about something.
He is tall, skinny, with short dark hair and an open face.
I slow.
What is it about him?
I know this guy.
I realise I’ve stopped and am almost staring at him now.
He turns.
He knows me too.
I can see it in his eyes. He’s scared, no, not scared: shocked.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”
Sorry, but you’ll need to wait until the book is published to read the rest. I’ll pop the link on here when it’s ready.