This extract brings Nina, my heroine, to the conclusion to write her love story:
I strongly believe that everything happens for a reason, although when life is cruel it’s sometimes difficult to fathom such reasons.
There must be a reason why the universe withheld news of your death from me for so long.
There must be a reason why the news of your death has been a catalyst to me writing.
Maybe the reason is that our story wants to be told.
Maybe the reason is that I haven’t been ready to tell that story until now.
No one can hurt you now, so I’m no longer a secret.
I can tell our story to the world – and where I don’t remember the detail, I will use the snapshots of memory I have and build a complete picture by filling in the blanks with the most likely image, .
Is that your LEGACY to me?
This extract shows how Nina starts her account:
Nina is sitting in a classroom in the science block at a long bench under the window. An Indian summer sun is warming her hands and face, but her heart is cold.
The glare of the sun is making it impossible to read the text before her but she does not shield her eyes – she is not reading. Instead, her mind is blank. It is the blank before the storm, the blank which does not know which of the million churning thoughts should go first. Every one of those thoughts is too painful to deal with so the mind rejects them all, holds them at bay and remains blank.
Lom is standing in the doorway observing – her utter stillness touches something deep inside him.
He has seen her in the lab many times since the beginning of term. Apart from in class, and even there she sits a little apart from the other students, he has never seen her speak to anyone.
He has noticed her not only because of the aloofness, a separateness that is not arrogant in nature but shy. He has also noticed she never takes off her coat – and she is auburn.
Nina is new at the school and has never been in a situation like this. She has left her family to move abroad, to England, to complete her education. She has come from an international school where she was comfortable and secure in a group of friends who were all high achievers, who studied hard and made the grades.
It is Nina’s thirst for knowledge that is keeping her sane in this strange new environment. Alone in a foreign country, her friends have all gone off in different directions to complete their schooling, some to America, some back to their native countries, she is the only one who has come to England.
So here she is – in a boarding school with rules so restrictive she wants to scream, several years older than the other students in her class, and she is cold. So cold!
She does not fit in.
So she escapes to study and the peace of the lab where she is now basking in the late afternoon sun.
For the first time in days her fingers are warming up – now that is a safe thought to bounce around in her otherwise blank mind.
Nina lifts her head a little to allow the sun to caress her face and closes her eyes.
Lom is still watching, although he is beginning to feel like an intruder. He works in the labs as the senior laboratory technician, so he has every right to be here, but Nina’s attitude is very private, and he is trespassing on her privacy
Then he sees her move, only a tiny movement, but like a sunflower, her face has turned towards the sun and half a smile lifts the corners of her mouth.
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
Lom is as startled at his own words as Nina, whose head whips round so fast she loses her balance and almost falls off the lab stool, which like a bar chair is quite high.
Her eyes are wide, green, and full of suspicion – or is that fear.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologises. “It’s our break time and I’m about to make some tea. Would you like some?”
Nina’s eyes drop to her hands
“That would be nice. Thank you, Mr Morrish.”
She has an accent!
This extract continues from the second extract posted in my blog on 08/06/14:
It is already not enough.
He needs to see!
He widens the caress until he hooks the bottom edge of her shirt and pulls it up. Her chest is flushed a soft pink, her nipples are lustrous perfection. He wonders what they taste like, but as he leans forward to take one into his mouth, she freezes, so he replaces one hand on a breast, gently kneading the whole orb and kisses his way up her chest, her neck and jaw, back to her mouth, and then further up to the top of her head.
With her head resting on his shoulders, both are breathing hard. He waits for her to relax again, his hand still moving soothingly along her curves.
His words are no more than a whisper – he fears that if she continues to gyrate her hips he will take her.
Yet her soft moans and uncontrolled rocking tell him that his touch has brought her to a state of arousal that needs to peak – he has already taken her too far. How can he help her achieve that release without betraying her trust, without scaring her?