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  Somewhere Only We Know …….

  Leanne Burn

  www.sweetserendipitymedia.com

  © 2014 Sweet Serendipity Media Ltd

  147751

  Copyright © Sweet Serendipity Media Ltd - Somewhere Only We Know ……. 2014

  L Burn has asserted her right under Copyright to be identified as the author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by the way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Somewhere Only We Know

  Leanne Burn

  Copyright Leanne Burn 2014

  Publishing at Smashwords

  The Long and Winding Road

  Caroline’s eyes glanced up into the rear view mirror. The outline of the Tyne Bridge could clearly be seen, the lamps lighting it making it appear to be on fire on the wet, dismal October night. Caroline took a peep at the digital clock on the dashboard, it was just turned midnight. Another look in her mirror showed the shadow of the bridge fading into the background. ‘Ironic’, thought Caroline, ‘the Bridge looking like it is burning, that’s what I am doing, burning my bridges, well and truly burning them’. This was no flight of fancy, this was the culmination of the past 6 years. This was the only road open to her now, a road she was travelling alone. Everyone she loved was on the other side of that bridge.

  The Satnav illuminated the car interior. She had 275 miles to go, 275 miles until she was able to breathe. 275 miles would take about 5 hours, 5 hours to do nothing but drive and think. Think about what she had done and the consequences of her actions.

  The rain continued to fall and the windscreen wipers beat out a steady rhythm, tonight was not a night for music; that would be too much. Caroline knew that one familiar song, and that’s all it would take, one song that reminded her of him and she would be done for. She would turn the car around and head back home and shit with the consequences. No, it would be safer to let the sound of the wipers and the engine soothe her.

  The sign for A1 South came into view. Caroline hit her indicator and merged onto the slip road. Her breathe caught in her throat and her eyes suddenly stung with tears. ‘This is it’ she thought to herself. This was the start of the rest of her life, a life she was choosing to live on her own because she couldn’t bare living her life the way it was. ‘I could have done it if no one knew, but not now it is out in the open, I’m just not brave enough to do it by myself. I could have done it if he was with me, but that isn’t going to happen, not now’.

  273 miles to go. Caroline continued into the darkness. The night stretched ahead. 265 miles to go. A little bungalow at the end of her journey, hastily rented over the internet, cheap because it was out of season and the seaside town she had picked would be virtually closed down. A place Caroline had never been to before, a place where she had no job or family; no friends. For the first time in her 46 years she was going to be quite alone.

  A new beginning? Maybe! Running away? Definitely! All this because she had fallen in love. She hadn’t just fell in love with any old bod though, she had fallen in love with her son’s best friend and he had fell in love with her. Or so she thought. Her chest tightened in the too familiar feeling that a panic attack was coming on. ’Oh God, what have I done?’ Caroline said to herself. A long time ago she fell in love, it was all secrets and lies, but he was a temptation too hard to resist. But that temptation had led her to where she was now, her car full of her belongings. That wasn’t much to show for her 46 years, but her real legacy was distancing itself by the minute. Shock, betrayal and the lies and secrets recently revealed of the double life she had been leading for the past few years.

  The services at Scotch Corner were appearing in the distance. The Satnav showed 233 miles to go. Caroline slowed the car and hit the exit into the services. A cup of coffee and a cigarette was needed. As she pulled into the car parking space a thought ran through Caroline’s head. ’What if I had turned a different corner? Would I still be a divorced mother of 3 grown up children, a new granny, a good daughter and a reliable friend?’

  Throwing her handbag over her shoulder, Caroline made for the loo. ’If ifs and ands were pots and pans?’ she said to herself - funny that old saying had never made much sense. ’Maybe there is more to it!’ Well she would have plenty of time on her hands when she got to Helmsby to find the answer to that one out! And if that was all she had to worry about then life beside the sea would be plain sailing. She almost smiled, almost but not quite. 233 miles to go.

  I Drove All Night

  The lighting in the toilets was harsh. Caroline looked at her reflection in the mirror while she washed her hands. Was that her own face staring back at her? Or did the people who ran the services use some sort of trick lighting to make people look tired so they would stop off and rest, paying over the top prices for coffee and sandwiches in the hope that it might revive them to their normal looking self before continuing on their journey. She liked the thought of lighting trickery but knew in her heart that it was her own reflection staring back at her. The dark ringed eyes, the white face, the unkept long hair which was long overdue a cut. ‘In what world could she ever have competed?’ she thought to herself.

  ‘What was it Ben used to call her, a MILF - a mother I would like to fuck? Well babes I don’t think you would find me very tempting now if you could see me’, Caroline thought. She didn’t feel sexy, she didn’t feel anything; maybe middle aged which theoretically she was. She was a grandmother for God’s Sake. The woman staring back at her didn’t have what Caroline had always had - a spark! The eyes; usually blue and vibrant were dull and lacked lustre, in fact her whole persona looked dull. The spark was out.

  The need for a caffeine injection shook her out of her thinking, so she made her way into the swanky Costa Coffee area. For 1.00am there were quite a few people in, well maybe 5 or 6, but still for that time in the morning!! ‘Was everyone running away?’ She thought to herself as she waited at the counter for the waitress; who was cleaning at some stubborn stain, to notice her.

  She ordered a latte and a chocolate muffin. The woman smiled broadly at her as she served her. Maybe this happened all of the time, thought Caroline. Women turned up and ordered latte and muffins at stupid o’clock in the morning, whilst on the run from their previous lives. Or maybe the waitress just wasn’t interested, she just served her beverages, smiled sweetly at the customers and collected her wage at the end of the month, which probably wasn’t enough for working the God awful shift she was on now.

  Caroline took her overpriced latte and muffin to a table next to the window. There wasn’t any view out of the window, it was still dark and the rain continued to lash down, but the lights from the vehicles travelling on the A1 sparkled and it was a comfort to know that even though her life seemed to have ground to a halt, the rest of the world continued as normal.

  The chocolate muffin was dry, perhaps it had been sitting on the counter all day. It broke and dropped crumbs all over her jumper and jeans. The latte was too hot, but the smell of it was lovely. With a jolt he was back in her head again. For fuck’s sake will he never go away? That’s what he used to say, she always smelt of coffee. Most women are told they smell of perfume and flowers, but her smell was coffee, coffee and sex. He loved the smell of her when she smelt of coffee and he loved the smell of her when she smelt of sex.

  Th
e young couple on the next table had their heads together laughing at something on a mobile phone. They reminded her of the kids and a pain shot across her heart. ‘I hope they understand’ she thought, ‘I hope that they can forgive me for what I have done now that I have left them!’

  She dug into her handbag and pulled out her own mobile phone. She had knocked it onto silent when she left, not wanting to be distracted whilst she was driving. But there were no missed call, no messages, just a picture of her beautiful Ava smiling at her. Ava, her granddaughter, so small at the minute, ‘will she ever know me?’ The tears that had threatened to fall earlier were back, stinging behind her eyes. She took a gulp of her latte, still too hot, but the burn distracted her and another potential meltdown passed.

  The muffin was tasteless, but Caroline continued to nibble away at it. She needed something in her belly, there were still 233 miles to go. Not that she would keel over from starvation mind, she was a comfort eater, so the previous weeks of stress had laid lbs on her, she felt like a whale - ‘all these weeks I have been preparing my body for a long and lonely winter, no wonder these jeans are nipping!’

  A long and lonely winter!!! Well she had been lonely for a long time, maybe lonely wasn’t the right word, maybe just alone. In fact alone was probably the perfect word, she had always been alone, even in the midst of her family. Or a loner!! That was a far more appropriate word to use to describe her, she needed and loved her family more than anything, but no one really knew her, especially these past few years. She changed personas like most people change their socks, being a mother, being a daughter, being a friend, taking on each role with total commitment. Then there was the time she was with him.

  Then what was it she became? A Mrs Robinson in the beginning, then towards the end more Norman Bates, a psycho!! Paranoid, jealous, insecure. And all the while being the same as ever as a mother, a daughter and a friend.

  It was no wonder people were shocked - the majority of them didn’t have a clue. Sasha and Scarlett, her bestest friends, well of course they knew! They were the ones that help pick up the pieces when it had all got too much a year ago. When a bottle of wine and a boat load of tablets seemed like a far better option than living a life without Ben. They were the ones that picked her up and made her see what she had and not what she was missing. They were the ones that were there for her when all hell broke loose less than a month ago and they would be the ones that would watch over her family whilst she abandoned them to live 300 miles away. ‘I’m maybe taking the cowards way out this time but I’m certainly taking the next best option in running’, Caroline thought to herself.

  Surprise Surprise

  Caroline sipped on her latte and despite trying her very best to concentrate on a leaflet offering discounted AA Roadside Recovery, her mind started to wander. Doubts about who she was and what she had become began to form in her mind. ‘Was there something amiss in my personality? Do I not have the gene that gives us morals? Is it something in my upbringing or in my choice of male partners that so obviously causes them to be doomed from the outset? What has made me become the blatantly selfish liar that I have become? Or is it simply falling in love with forbidden fruit and not having the will power to stop it?’ The thoughts buzzed around and around in her head.

  She gave into the buzzing and let her thoughts race away. ‘If I’m going to crucify myself I may as well start at the very beginning and make a proper job of it!’

  The sound of Cilla Black’s voiced boomed over the buzzing. ‘Da da - da da - da da da da da da ….. (What the hell Blind Date!)

  ‘Right contestant number one - what’s your name and where do you come from?’

  ‘My name is Caroline and I’m from Newcastle!’

  ‘Question number one for contestant number one’ went on Cilla. ‘Tell us about your childhood chuck!!’

  Caroline shook her head. ‘I am seriously losing the plot here mind’, she said to herself. ‘Well Cilla, here goes!!’

  I’m the only child of Margaret and Bill Burton. Born in the mid-sixties to Margaret, my real dad was already married when my mam met him, hence the blank name on my birth certificate. For the first five years of my life I lived with my mam at my Granny and Granddad’s small semi-detached council house, along with two aunties and two uncles.

  Even at a young age I knew I was a bit different so to speak. I wasn’t really sure who my mam was. Margaret went out to work, she was very glamorous and though she was loving, I can’t remember her being very maternal. My Granny on the other hand showered me in love. There are photographs of me and her when I was little and even in the old black and white snaps, you can see our adoration for each other.

  My Granddad was a different kettle of fish, he wasn’t nasty to me or anything, but I got the feeling that I was a disappointment. He was old school, a pitman and a drinker, looking back I could see that what my mam had done by having me the wrong side of the blanket, would have been quite the scandal in the 1960’s, especially in the little pit village we called home. Kinsley, where everyone knew everyone else’s business. Funny this is that even today I am known as Margaret Hunter’s daughter, which is ironic as most of today’s children are born to unmarried mothers.

  But my early years were happy amid the jumble of my family life. I think that I was a bit spoiled by all of the family. They made a fuss of me and spent time doing things that were fun, so it wasn’t until I started at Infant School that I realised what was missing from my life - a dad.

  On reflection I think that is when I learned to tell lies. Playmates would ask ‘what does your dad do? Why doesn’t your dad ever pick you up?’ So I lied, ‘my dad is in the Army!’ I chirped.

  What the hell! How could I tell a whopper like that at 4 years old? But I stuck to my story, though even with an imaginary dad, I was always on the outside looking in, never quite in with the popular kids, just waiting on the edge for someone to invite me in. Maybe that is where the rot had set, the tall gangly girl whose dad never materialised. So I started to live in an insular world, a world full of secrets and lies. A world which was blown out of the cosmos when Margaret announced she was getting married, but not only that, she and my new dad were moving 25 miles away from our village to a new town called Washington. It wasn’t just them moving to Washington, they were taking me with them!

  So at the tender age of 5 years old, I was wrenched from the only family home I had ever know, from the love of my Granny and my Aunts to live in a house with a mam I barely knew and a step dad I hadn’t even met. Well that wasn’t strictly true. I remembered an incident that happened not long before, while I was out shopping in Newcastle with my mam. We were in a big department store when out of the blue my mam pushed me into a rail of clothes and told me to stay still and not say anything. For the next few minutes I did as I was told, but the curiosity got the better of me and I peeped through the rail of coats. My mam was talking and giggling with a man. When, after what seemed like a lifetime, she pulled me out, she was for some reason in a really good mood. She was in such a good mood she took me to Mark Tony’s for a huge ice cream. If that had been my new step dad, he certainly didn’t know anything about me when he first started courting my mam.

  But Margaret married Bill and we moved to our brand new house in Washington New Town. My heart was broken. I missed my Granny so much. The damage done to both of us by the separation would affect us both for years to come. But my mam was my mam and at the end of the day she had the final say. I was going with them and that was that.

  My biggest memory of that time was when I started my new school. It was a new build and for some reason my records from Kinsley Infant School hadn’t arrived when I did for my first day of school. I was very tall for my age and painfully shy, how it happened I have no recollection, but instead of being put in a class with my age group, I was put into a class full of 10 and 11 year olds. And there I stayed, though I have no idea how long I was there. I remember going home and crying, but I think my mam thought I was cryi
ng for my Granny, which I was because she would never have let that happen to me in a million years, she would have known in an instant that something was wrong. I didn’t make friends and I certainly couldn’t do the work. Maybe my teacher thought I was a thick country girl, because she didn’t notice anything either.

  At the same time as this was going on I became a ‘latch key kid’. my new dad didn’t get in from work until an hour after I finished school, so I was given my own front door key which was attached to a piece of wool and placed around my neck. That hour alone in the new house was the most terrifying thing of all. I had never had to spend any time on my own before, I had never even had my own bedroom at my Granny’s house, but here I was every Monday to Thursday left on my own in a new house that made lots of strange noises.

  For those first few months of living in Washington, my life was a nightmare. School, home, new dad, missing my Granny and even having to get to know my mam. Every aspect was scary. I had no friends, which in a brand new school full of brand new pupils should have been the easiest thing of all to do. But my classmates thought I was babyish and cried to easy, which was not surprising really, I was half their age.

  It wasn’t as if my mam and dad weren’t nice to me, they were lovely. I had a great bedroom and a playroom stuffed with loads of toys for me to play with, but for me it was the loneliest time of my life. The high spot of each week was when we went to my Granny’s on a Sunday, but even in her comforting arms I didn’t open my mouth about what was happening at school. It took something much more humiliating to happen to me for that to be brought out into the open.