| 1 | The Awakening |
| 2 | The Office |
| 3 | Five Minutes Peace |
| 4 | The Guys |
| 5 | The Evenings |
| 6 | Back At The Office |
| 7 | Picking Up The Pieces |
| 8 | Mutual Interests & Published |
She was not a beautiful woman, not even pretty, some might even call her ugly, yet she had a quality, a deep subtle undertone of strong and powerful emotion intermingled with pride. She lay on the white pillow, her dull brown hair framing her face in an undefined cloud of softness. Her skin almost white under a harsh spattering of freckles, she still looked as young as a child and spots marred her face on her barely developed cheekbones and dimpled chin. To all appearances she looked like someone just entering puberty, rather than a twenty-year old woman.
She gently stirred and slowly opened her eyelids to reveal two small richly coloured brown eyes. She rolled over glancing at a clock and in doing so, she caught a glimpse of herself in the small bedside mirror. She groaned and rolled back, how many times she had looked at that face and hated it. The prominent nose, sticking out rather farther than she would have liked, seemed out of place against her other slightly sunken features and that small mouth looked so bitter. She sighed.
"Why do I always have to come out of a beautiful dream to be confronted with such a sight" she thought to herself sadly. She considered, fleetingly, the idea of moving the mirror, yet dismissed it quickly as a futile attempt to hide her true identity. She uttered a long sigh of resignation and reluctantly crawled out of her cosy nest to be confronted with the ice-cold morning air in the room she rented.
"A fire would be good here" she murmured under her breath as she mentally wrote a note to remind herself to find a heater. She quickly slipped on some warm clothes and opened the door to an icy blast. She shivered and clawed her way along the cold, dark corridor to the bathroom.
Once inside, the bathroom was marginally warmer than the rest of the house. She cleaned her teeth, flinching as the bitterly cold water came into contact with her barely prepared gums. She splashed her face quickly, washing away the sleep and then vigorously rubbed life back into her hands and face with a coarse towel. Feeling cold, but nevertheless refreshed and fully awake, she started the arduous task of undressing in the hostile climate to relieve herself. The task completed, she pulled back on her clothes, picked up her belongings and returned to her room.
The light was on in the corridor now as the remainder of the residents stirred. She read the familiar sign on the wall as she passed:
|
"All residents must vacate the premises promptly for the duration
of time between 8 - 9 am for cleaning purposes." |
"That's one way to get them up early" she thought as she had said many times before.
Nothing could be left to the mercy of the cleaners, so entering her room she proceeded to pack clothes in drawers, cupboards and wardrobes and put her most prized possessions in a lockable case, pushing it out of sight under her bed. She pulled the covers up and remembered reluctantly how much cleaner her room had been when she had had time to clean it herself.
"Oh well," she sighed as she slipped into her smart work suit, and pulled on her thick long coat. She collected her briefcase and slipped quietly downstairs closing her room door behind her.
The kitchen was almost as cold as her room had been, so she walked over to the electric fan heater, correctly guessing that the other residents would appreciate a little warmth. She smiled as she switched it on and felt the almost immediate heat on the back of her legs as she walked away.
She glanced at her watch as she filled the kettle and wished she'd switched the heater on sooner, realising that she had little time to enjoy it. The kettle quickly boiled and she hurriedly made herself some tea, gulping down the scalding liquid, pressing her hands hard against the hot mug for warmth. Dropping the mug into a bowl of soapy water and flicking the switch on the water heater, she fumbled with her coat pocket to remove gloves and car keys. Her hasty exit was announced when the front door slammed.
Her cheeks were flushed as she briskly strode across the icy car park. A bitter wind whipped her fine hair across her face and stung her eyes, making her shiver. She wished fervently that she had remembered her scarf and pulled her coat collar up closer to her ears.
She entered into the office foyer and savoured the initial feeling of warmth whilst she quickly shut the door behind her. She smiled at the receptionist as she walked past and stepped onto the escalator. As she was carried upstairs, she pulled off her gloves and folded down her collar. She smiled as she thought of those already in the office, those hardworking souls that she called her friends. She pushed her gloves deep into her coat pockets as she stepped off the escalator through the door into the familiar office.
Once inside, she wandered almost aimlessly, greeting each of her friends and colleagues in turn, until she ended up at her desk. She gave her boyfriend's picture a glancing look until she scanned her desk for instructions. It was as she had thought, there was the note from her boss, next to a pile of papers. It said:
|
Welcome back to the World Of Tedium and Filing! There's more where these came from - an exciting prospect, I know you'll be thrilled. I'd like the information on the computer, but I'd also like a copy in the format specified (I never did understand computer formatting) which means typing it as well - Sorry!
Thanks,
|
She wondered casually why he always signed his first name on these little informative notes. It was unusual for members of "upstairs " to use first names, but then Matt Hollaway was far from usual compared to the others. She resigned herself to the laborious task, wondering if there would be enough hours in the day to complete the ever-growing pile on her desk. Being an efficient typist does have it's drawbacks, she thought, absently glancing at her fingers moving as a continuous blur.
"This is exciting" she thought to herself sarcastically, pausing to translate a passage of Matt's writing. She wished he didn't have to have everything typed as well. You could correct errors and odd paragraphs or totally amend a piece on the computer, but you had to re-type the whole thing on a typewriter. She continued to think as she typed, the words on the page travelling through to her fingers didn't require much attention.
Just as she completed the last of Matt's typing, she noticed a commotion developing at the other end of the office. Amidst many loud exclamations and curious stares, the great boss-man's nephew made his way purposely up the office towards her desk, she gasped involuntarily, bracing herself for the onslaught that was sure to follow, he never came down unless he felt it was important.
Standing at just over six foot, powerfully built with his eyes flaming with anger, he was an imposing sight as he bore down on her. She pretended that she had just looked up casually as she asked politely:
"How can I help you, Mr Davidson?" Her voice was like ice as he slammed down a handful of paper which she recognised as the early morning notes - she had no idea that Matt had kept them. Josh Davidson was taken aback by her soft and calm voice but was not to be distracted from his original errand. He continued, however with a little less force than before.
"Do you recognise "these papers"?" he asked quietly and almost menacingly as he pushed the papers towards her.
"I believe that they are early morning orders from, Mr Hollaway, my boss, completed and returned with a reply." she replied carefully.
"And could you possibly explain to me, Miss Walker, how you managed to be on first name terms with Mr Hollaway?" he continued quietly.
"I don't know, sir.er I endeavour to do my job to please others. If it pleases him to sign his first name and for me to sign mine, this I will do. I do not like to offend..." she replied wincing at his tone.
"Miss Walker, you are avoiding the question" he cut in sharply. "It is not your place to be on first name terms with any member of staff on the second floor, do I make myself clear?"
"Quite clear, sir, and now if you will excuse me, I would like to continue with my job. I have some typing to deliver to "Mr Hollaway" immediately" and to his surprise and disbelief, she pushed back her chair and walked down the office towards the lift. He looked at her back coldly and she could feel his gaze burning into her back. He spoke a few words:
"Be careful, Miss Walker, be very careful. I do not approve of close relationships between my staff." He saw her back stiffen as she stepped into the lift and the doors closed.
As she arrived in the long, thin corridor of the second floor, she stealthily crept along the doors to the familiar name of Mr M Hollaway. She knocked and a voice called "Come In" in an official tone. She opened the door and slipped inside. Matt glanced up as she collapsed gently into the chair in front of his desk. She handed him the papers but she was unable to speak for a few moments - keeping up the charade had taken all her resources. When she was again able to speak, she gave a weak laugh and said:
"I'm sorry. Here are the papers you requested, the rest is all on file. I hope it is satisfactorily correct, Mr Hollaway."
He smiled and said simply: "Thank you, Rachel. It is all okay, I'll yell if it isn't but you know that." He paused thoughtfully.
"Are you alright? Did I get you into too much trouble?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned, so she relaxed.
"Actually, I had no idea that you had been keeping them." she replied casually.
"They are quite amusing. I like to keep them as a little momento to keep me sane throughout the stressful day. I was just reading them when "Sir Josh Davidson" walked in. I can't apologise enough. It's obviously ruined your day." he replied simply.
"Apology accepted, it wasn't really your fault anyway, I just needed a retreat! I've got work to do, thanks for letting me recuperate in here. Is there anything else you would like me to do whilst I'm available?"
"No, there's nothing else for the moment but I'm sure the others will avail themselves of your services as a typist. Are you sure you are alright?" he asked with more than a hint of concern in his voice.
"Yes, I'm fine." she replied but Matt wasn't convinced as she departed back to her own floor.
"A normal day at the office for her, I suppose." he thought sadly to himself.
When she arrived back at her desk, the expected pile of papers had arrived and her notebook, which she kept for messages, was covered in instructions. She sighed. This was where her day's work began.
As she assigned herself to the task, once more she recalled the earlier events of the morning. Her only thoughts, she decided, were to be of typing until lunchtime.
When Matt entered the lower office at lunchtime, he expected it to be empty. However, one solitary person, Rachel, sat at her desk alternating food and work with ease. She looked drawn and pale, almost distressed, as engrossed as she was in her work.
Matt walked over and gently pulled her fast moving hands away from the keys. It was as if she couldn't stop working, frantically groping for more and more work. He pressed a key and the screen cleared. He spoke gently to her until she relaxed.
"Hey, it's alright. Calm down, it's okay. Honestly. You mustn't let it get to you like this." he said quietly repeating the same thing over and over.
"I'm sorry. I just got a bit wound-up. I've nearly finished now. Was there something you needed?" she replied after a while.
"Never mind what I needed. What about what you need?"
"I am here to work. It is not meant to be pleasurable. I am merely a typist who is here to serve others and keep them happy. I must work exceptionally hard to complete my workload."
"Good grief, woman. Is that programmed into your brain?" he snapped but immediately followed it with:
"I'm sorry. Look, you're working too hard. It's almost nervous hysteria. Give yourself a break, come to lunch with me?" he offered. She smiled, thanked him for the offer but due to recent events she had to decline.
"Okay, I suppose it is sensible but I still worry about you! There's nothing to prove, you know." he stated simply.
"Oh, but there is. I'll show him that I can keep going whatever he throws at me, I need five minutes peace before they all arrive back. Thanks again" she added. He nodded understandingly but immediately began to think of ways to distract her as he finished his task and went upstairs..
After Matt's departure, she sat with her head in her hands and quietly sipped her coffee. She was in no mood to relax, her mind was in work mode, intent on proving that she could carry on whatever the workload, so she just switched off and closed her eyes to rest them.
As she rested, images appeared in her mind's eye. She saw herself as a child sitting in her room, whilst all was chaos around, gazing out of the window. She saw her younger sister riding her bicycle and longed for the freedom of a bike ride. Yet she was trapped, unable to go until this heap was sorted out. She remembered the feeling of invisible bars across the windows and the frustration building up.
The dream faded into darkness. Next she was in a different room, a larger room. She stood at the window gazing out at the darkness remembering the good times. She always loved the dark. It felt secure, not necessarily safe, but enclosed.
People started to re-enter the office so she opened her eyes. 'There were happy memories' she recollected in her thoughts, 'Yet they are so clouded. They all seem to be linked to some awful event.' She finished her coffee and started to type once more.
She had just risen from her hard-won, ordered desk for the last time before her departure, when a head emerged, peeking around the door. A male head and a familiar one.
As he gazed around the empty office, he caught sight of her behind her desk, poised halfway between sitting and standing. He slipped through the door, closing it gently, and gazed appreciatively at her slim form as she eased herself from her chair.
On an impulse, much to his surprise and delight, her emotions came through the "ice-maiden" charade that she had been hiding behind all afternoon. She ran straight at him to be caught in a warm embrace. He swung her around in a circle lifting her off the ground.
"Oh, it's been so long, Rachel." he groaned as he gently placed her down again.
"I know, Ben. Well, let me look at you, then," she said , stepping back and admiring what she saw, running her eyes over the tight shirt, hardly concealing the mass of firm muscles underneath.
"Very nice I must say! You haven't changed a bit over the years!" was her short appreciative reply.
"You're not so bad yourself -gorgeous lady!" he grinned mischievously as his eyes roamed over her petit figure.
She laughed delightedly as he pulled her close once more.
"God, I've missed you" he said burying his head in her hair. She hugged him back smiling at the pleasure he caused with such a simple gesture of friendship.
"Now, Mr. James, if you'd care to allow me to pick up my handbag, we could proceed to much more comfortable surroundings for a bite to eat. There's a lovely new restaurant that I know of - it's quite delightful!" she said, smiling, as she disentangled herself from his close bear-type hug. Immediately embarrassed at his spontaneous behaviour, he apologised quickly. She interrupted.
"I loved it" she said quietly in a soft seducing voice, the force of her emotions showing in her eyes. She smiled and offered him her arm He took it, gently propelling her downstairs and out to his low-slung black Porsche.
The wind had dropped in the car park, with the sun shining dimly, taking the chill from the air. He carelessly slung her briefcase into the back of the Porsche before re-locking the doors, much to her surprise.
"It is a nice day after all" he said with a smile, as he caught a glimpse of her stunned face and they walked on.
The snow crunched under their feet as they walked, the cold air making their noses red and their cheeks flushed. She smiled suddenly at a pleasant thought.
"Hey dreamer!" Ben said teasingly. "Who are you thinking about this time?"
"Us, actually. We've been friends since high school, grown up together and become really close as the best of friends. Yet we've never had a romantic relationship despite the obvious attraction between us." Ben smiled as she replied.
"We never wished to spoil anything. In any case what would we have done without "Big Ben" as a shoulder to cry on and your great protector?" he asked simply.
"I know. You're the best friend that I've ever had.!" She paused thoughtfully.
"Do you remember your first boyfriend? What was his name - Carl, James? I remember having to pick up the pieces that he'd left behind" he said reminiscing.
"Carl, that was his name. Never mind, hey, we all make mistakes. He was drunk, I was sober, young and inexperienced."
"Then there was Dave. Well he taught me how to enjoy life again and he always treated me well. In fact he was always complimenting me and was so sweet to me. It was the knives, drugs and his parents that got me in the end."
"Oh, dear!" she laughed. "His parents really hated me!"
"Yeah, I remember, wouldn't let you in the house and he was so possessive of you." Ben continued.
"Mmm. Now there's Joe. Joe's the exception - he's so special! Three days we knew each other before we went out. It all happened really fast - my gorgeous hunk ..." she trailed off.
"Yeah and you really didn't need all his problems at the time did you? You still picked up all the pieces of his life, helped him to talk it through with you and he always trusted you so much."
"Oh, he still does. I like to think that I'm still helping him out. He tells me things when he's ready and I'd never breathe a word to a soul about all that he said."
"Anyway, that's enough of the heavy stuff, here's the restaurant we are destined for. What did you call it? Quite delightful?"
"Don't tease so, Ben. Don't tease!"
"Your meal awaits within, madam. After you," he replied, holding open the door.
The meal was short and pleasant as they reminisced over wine and laughed over coffee. Darkness fell as they talked.
It was during coffee that the inevitable question arose:
"So how did you find my hide-out, Ben? I'd been meaning to phone you recently but I've been busy with "Dangerous Exploits" my latest book."
"You're the only person I know that fills their bookshelves with their own books! Matt phoned me, actually. He's concerned about you, honey, reckons you work too hard! He gave me some garbled message about an incident at work with the boss's nephew being all his fault so I thought I'd better come and rescue my Princess before she burns out her brains."
"You are definitely my knight in shining armour, honey"
"You bet!" he smiled.
"Let's finish our coffee, it's getting late," he added.
"I'll need an escort tonight -home to my mansion. Especially as the ground is so slippery and there are so many dangerous men about." she said smiling.
"Certainly madam, your carriage awaits..." he replied as they rose and left.
"Of course, I'll drive you home honey, my pleasure!" he added.
The wind clawed relentlessly at her clothes as she hurried from Ben´s Porsche to the security of her home. Turning once to wave, she gratefully slipped inside.
She glanced at the clock in the hallway as she entered before absently checking the mail. She sighed resignedly, once again it was getting too late to work on her book thrown carelessly in a lockable drawer.
Quickly depositing her briefcase and mail upstairs, she noted the ice-cold temperature of her room which afforded little comfort to her numbed hands and frost-nipped toes, before slipping down to the warmth of the crowded kitchen.
Whilst fighting her way through the other tenants for a mug, she wished again that she could afford a place of her own. Managing to make a hot drink, she slipped into the storeroom downstairs and managed to locate a fan-heater. She retired to her room equipped with heater and hot drink.
The fan-heater quickly warmed the small room as she sat sipping her drink. Picking up her earlier train of thought, it occurred to her that she hadn´t worked on her book for several nights now. Perhaps she did have time for a quick look, she thought, as she reached over and unlocked the drawer. Pulling out the sheaf of papers which were the beginnings of her current book “Dangerous Exploits” she began to leaf through the pages.
Whenever she had the motivation or inspiration she would often work on her latest book, or perhaps look at an earlier piece of her writing for modification. Research for a new book would often take up time after finishing a previous novel.
A close friend would publish a single copy of one of her books (that he liked best) once a year. These copies usually found their way to her own bookshelf eventually, she thought smiling as she remembered Ben´s jest earlier.
She´d never been taken seriously by any of the publishers though. Often she´d find herself wishing that she could see copies of her novels throughout the bookshops but she was happy with her quiet little life as a typist. Anyway it was more of a hobby than a career.
It was at times like this that she loved to write. It was more of an escape from the rat-race than anything else. Almost like dreaming but writing it down as you go. Characters seem to mould themselves after their initial characterisation and take over the story. Only a basic plan was ever necessary.
Researching a new character or characters also provided an escape – she became the full-time writer interviewing people or buried in a pile of books in an old library. It was like living in a different world to her own.
Glancing at her watch, she noticed that it was getting late so she gently covered up her papers and tucked them into the drawer quickly turning the key. She changed, grateful for the warmth of the fan-heater still penetrating her tired limbs, before snuggling down under the covers. At last her long day had come to a close.
Her early morning break was almost at a close as she sat sipping her coffee. She sighed as she glanced over her notepad at the ever increasing workload and settled to her task.
After a while the familiar routine of letting the words fly effortlessly through her fingers came into effect. She cast her mind back to the conversation with Ben the night before. He had asked her if she was happy. Was she happy? Or even content? Or was it time to do something with her life?
Twenty five novels littered her shelves at home gathering dust. Along with numerous short stories. Surely she could make something of all that hard work. It would be an alternative to the monotony of this job – however got at it she is.
She would need critics to improve her writing. People to give her a second opinion. That was a basis for a plan. Find some critics. The only problem was where?
OK, so maybe she had to find an interested publisher first. Perhaps trying harder to reach all the publishers would work. She could write letters and send copies of her novels to each of them or even write a special collection of short stories to interest them. Arranging interviews with them is a necessity.
The plan was taking shape. She would do something with her novel writing skills. It was decided from that moment on. She had made up her mind. She picked up the phone and arranged to meet Joe, her boyfriend, to discuss her new found ambition. Even if it did seem more like a dream now.
Later, Joe picked her up from outside the office foyer. She had sounded so excited on the phone, he did hope that she wouldn´t be disappointed again.
She briefly told him her thoughts from earlier in the day to which Joe listened earnestly. She was pleased that he did not interrupt although she always values his opinions.
“It´s a great idea, Rach, love. However, don´t leave it too long before you start. It would be great to have a novel published by Christmas don´t you think?” replied with a grin.
She hugged and kissed him with the exclamation “I knew you´d support me. Thank You.”
They walked away arm-in-arm discussing animatedly future plans.
The plan was ever in her thoughts from that point on so the following evening she pushed it into action.
She decided that her first published book should be a collection of short stories. These she had in abundance so she immediately started to collect them together.
By mid evening she had everything in some resemblance of order and set about cataloguing each story into sections.
Her first section she named “Nature Calls” which contained four descriptive stories about the Sun, the Snow, the Wind and the Night. She used this section as a template for the layout of the rest of the book.
1. The Sun
2. The Snow
3. The Wind
4. The Night
Each of these pieces was written to reflect my emotions of the time. They are extremely short as I wished for conciseness but still I hope to convey the feeling that you are there. These are some of my first works.
Thanks,
Rachel Walker
I lie on the beach whilst a sun shade covers my face. The pleasant warmth penetrates my limbs causing a strong sense of well-being. Looking around everything seems so bright – too bright, almost artificial. The light glances off the water causing the sea to look green rather than it´s usual grey.
People talk and chatter around me. The beach is alive with life and crowded with people upon the shingle. The sea withdraws leaving a long shimmering stretch for as far as the eye can see. Sand glistens between the sea worn stones.
Plants thrive with new greenery, flowers or berries cover bushes and trees. Birds flit about each garden twittering with occasional bursts of song. The riot of colour is almost overpowering as Nature reveals her most radiant season.
Gentle is summer – it´s warmth and tender fun. Bright and cheerful are all who experience the joy that is summer.
The snow glistened creating an eerie, almost daylight feeling where street lamps had no place. A smooth white blanket, that shone brightly, gently rounding harsh shapes. The air was ice-cold, yet pleasantly refreshing compared to the stuffy heat inside, and it was quiet, so quiet. No humming of everyday life but a feeling of dulled, carpeted noise just waiting to return when the snows lifted creating a feeling of peace not loneliness.
My emotions reeled as I stood enthralled wishing it would never end. I gasped at the spectacular and unusual landscape. Such beauty in such simplicity – the mere falling of snow.
I wanted the moment to last forever, yet the time had come for me to return to the drab man-made world from whence I had come. With a long lingering last glance, from the feeling of wonder and freedom created by the beautifully caressing snowflakes.
My hair drifted lightly in the soft breeze, it´s gentle caress whipping a blush to my cheeks. I smiled as I thought how pleasant it felt – but it wasn´t always this way.
The wind steadily increased as I walked along the seafront causing the sea to crash against the shingle. Seafarers would have a rough night ahead of them. I turned into the wind a sudden gust sent my hair streaming behind me.
On a sudden impulse I ran. I fought the wind, daring it and loving the challenge and the exhilaration. It made me feel so alive. I always loved the wind like that.
The wind seems so different now I sit inside. It crashes and buffets the house whistling through every nook and cranny creating an eerie sound. As the night progresses so the wind increases.
It´s such a powerful, terrifying force because it cannot be seen and yet can cause such damage. A house could be flattened in it´s path or merely buffeted gently. A person could be swept along or merely enjoy a pleasant breeze. Such is the majesty and power of the wind. One of the strongest forms in Nature.
The crisp feel of the night floats in through my window. The cool, fresh air revitalises and invigorates my tired, aching limbs. The darkness lets me rest my aching eyes as it caresses everything around me. It is never really dark here now as the Docks light the horizon on one side and amusements along the seafront illuminate the other.
The quiet is almost beautiful, it feels as though I am the only person about. The sea crashes on the beach in a relentless roar, not a ship on the still waters illuminates by the quiet glow of the moon. The sea could me mine in all it´s glory with not another soul to enjoy it. Hundreds of lights stretch along the promenade and each building has it´s own illuminated sign creating a cascade of coloured lights.
A glorious time is the night, a quiet thoughtful period in which all are judged by character not looks. Where there is no harsh light to afflict the eyes and all is peaceful and quiet.
Thus the book began to progress with the initial stage complete. Each section followed on to create a flow of short stories, a theme.
By the time she had finished her arrangements it was late and she thankfully sank into bed. The sense of achievement was fantastic and she knew she´d fight to get her first book published.
When she awoke, she placed the initial draft into her briefcase and started for work. She could make copies and post them to all the Publishers she knew.
Her head was buzzing with her new found ambitions all day long.
8. Mutual Interests & Published.
Whilst she was checking through her copy of the book, a young woman approached. Rachel smiled as she glanced up.
“I couldn´t help noticing that you are writing a book. I, too, am a writer although not a published one.” The stranger said.
“Really? It´s Jane Smith, isn´t it? I´m Rachel Walker” she replied.
They shook hands and Jane added “If you let me look over your work I could be one of your critics, if you like.”
“That would be lovely. Perhaps we could discuss the details over lunch” Rachel offered. “OK. I´ll meet you here at One O´clock if that´s alright” Jane replied.
The lunch went smoothly and Rachel found that she had a friend as well as a critic. They discussed animatedly the books they had written. Jane was enthralled by Rachel´s stories of her books and it was agreed that she should see Rachel´s “Bookshelf of her own books”.
From that moment on a firm friendship was formed which lasted for many years. Both were glad to talk , with interest, about their hobby.
At last, the book had been copied and sent to numerous publishers for inspection. They both eagerly anticipated the reply.
It came, unexpectedly, one foggy morning after numerous refusals. They had almost given up hope.
“We are pleased to inform you that we find your request for publication acceptable and will be proceeding accordingly. We require a meeting with yourself to discuss terms … ” Rachel read out loud.
“Well, how about that!” replied Jane. “I never thought it would come” Rachel sighed with obvious relief.
She couldn´t wait to tell all her friends and after the initial meeting she held a dinner party. Joe was ecstatic but warned “Don´t let it go to your head!”.
The elation of the moment lasted for weeks whilst the deal was finalised. She went on writing many more books which sell nationally. She can look proudly on her books throughout bookshops.
Her biggest triumph will always be the story of her first publishing which you have just finished reading.
“Who says Dreams Never Come True?”