Six Months Later

Amanda stood at the French doors her eyes fixed on the distant ashen sea while her hands were clasped around a floral porcelain mug filled with fresh coffee.

‘Will it snow soon?’ Ewan popped up at her side, dressed as a Power Ranger. He pressed his little palms against the doors and widened his eyes as he peered out at the landscape.

Beyond the garden of the small bungalow the world fell away and plummeted towards the sea. The sky was ripe with swollen silver clouds and there was a bite in the air which hinted at the imminent arrival of snow.

‘If it snows I promise we’ll go and build snowmen on the beach,’ Shane offered with a smile from where he sat on the sofa behind them, reading a book and toasting his toes in front of the log fire.

‘Snowmen! Yay!’ Ewan bounced on the spot and then sprinted back into the centre of the living room and his pile of toys which were haphazardly arranged on the rug beside the hearth. Amanda continued to linger by the doors. There were still boxes along the far wall demanding her attention. But the unpacking could wait. It was Sunday and Sundays were family days. In a few hours they’d walk the short distance to her mother’s cottage and when Corrine opened the front door the smell of roasted beef would instantly greet them. ‘So when do you think it will snow?’ Ewan tilted his head at the man reading on the sofa.

‘Any day now, champ. Just be patient.’

‘If it snows do I have to go to school?’ This question was divided between Amanda and Shane.

‘I guess that depends on how much it snows,’ Shane replied, turning the page in his book.

‘Well then I hope it snows loads and loads so that I get to stay home.’

Home.

The word tugged on Amanda’s heart, drawing her away from the doors and towards the warmth of the fire. Tender flames tangled together in the black Victorian fireplace. They wound themselves around the freshest log like a pack of snakes trying to constrict it.

Shane leaned forward to squeeze Amanda’s hand. He’d heard it too. The declaration of home. Right from Ewan’s lips. The little boy was finally settled into his new routine, his new way of life. The adoption papers were filed away in Amanda’s study. He was truly theirs. Truly home.

Sometimes he awoke from a dream asking for his mother. Occasionally he even asked for Will, although that was happening less frequently. His father seemed to be slipping out of his memories. Amanda fondly ruffled Ewan’s hair and stooped down to grab the nearest toy.

‘Who’s this again?’ she shook the toy, causing its wheels to rattle.

‘That’s Lightning McQueen,’ Ewan explained, puffing out his chest. He gingerly took the toy from her and rolled it across the carpet, making engine sounds. ‘He’s one of the fastest cars around. Wanna see?’ Ewan leapt up, his Thomas the Tank Engine slippers softly pattering across the floor as he hurried in the direction of the kitchen and its tiled surfaces. ‘Come on,’ he called to no one in particular.

‘I’m coming.’ Shane marked the place in his book and followed after the little boy.

Amanda looked around her home. Everything still smelt new – from the sofas to the plush rug beneath her feet. Even the furniture was new. Shane had spent an entire weekend piecing it all together and cursing the invention of flat-packs. But his hard work had paid off. The little bungalow was now a home; warm and inviting. Ewan’s bedroom looked out towards the sea and Amanda had painted the walls a vibrant shade of blue and adorned it with Marvel decals. Ewan loved it. He had bounced up and down on his bed when he was first allowed inside, bursting with gratitude.

Amanda and Shane’s room also overlooked the sea. The bed they shared was adjacent to the window, allowing her stunning views of moonlight dancing on distant waves as she drifted off to sleep.

‘Look how fast he is,’ Ewan’s bright voice floated in from the kitchen.

Amanda smiled and sipped at her coffee. She stepped closer to the fireplace, letting her hand rest upon the mantle. There was still so much unpacking to do. Every room was filled with boxes. But there was one box Amanda had opened up immediately when they moved in. Carefully placed towards the top of it were two framed pictures. They now stood at either end of her mantelpiece like a pair of bookends holding the fire between them.

In the picture closest to the kitchen, Amanda stood beside Will, smiling madly like she’d just won the lottery. He was smart in his suit and she was pretty in her modest dress. Whenever Amanda looked at the picture her heart skipped a beat. Will was so alive in the image, so handsome.

‘This is your dad,’ Amanda had explained to Ewan as she positioned the picture.

‘It’s a wedding picture.’

‘It is.’

‘Of you and my dad.’

‘That’s right.’

‘So you were married to my dad?’

‘I was.’

‘Then what about my mummy?’

Amanda knew that one day she’d have to sit Ewan down and explain what had happened to his parents. But she wanted to spare him the grief of such a conversation for as long as she could.

‘He was married to your mummy too. For a time.’

‘Oh.’ Ewan had studied the picture at length as if hoping that his father would somehow reveal some of his secrets to him through his captured smile.

‘You don’t think it will confuse him, having that picture up?’ Shane had queried that night as they lay in bed together.

‘No, I don’t,’ Amanda curled against his chest, loving the feel of his beating heart. ‘I think it’s good for Ewan to see it. Will was his father. He should know about Will’s past because it’s ultimately part of Ewan’s story.’

And the topic had been dropped.

Amanda wandered towards the second picture on her mantelpiece. She was again wearing a wedding dress only this one was lace and it swept behind her in a pretty fishtail. There was a suited man beside her but it wasn’t Will. Shane’s green eyes sparkled, jumping out of the photograph, bright with joy. He wore a pale grey suit and had his hands on Amanda’s hips as he looked deep into her eyes. Behind them the sun was rising over a gentle ocean, turning the sky the colour of pink rose petals.

 

 

 

We hope you enjoyed this book!

Carys Jones’ next novel is coming in autumn 2017

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