Today I am happy to share with you Part Three of the Mother's Day Story from Choc Lit. This part is written by Henriette Gyland. Hope you enjoy :)
Seven Choc Lit authors have contributed to give you one exciting story. Each author has to continue the tale left by the previous author. They have no idea where the story will take them! Not an easy task but makes good reading for us all.
If you have missed parts one and two, you can read them here:
Part One by Alison May
Part Two by Laura E James
Seven Choc Lit authors have contributed to give you one exciting story. Each author has to continue the tale left by the previous author. They have no idea where the story will take them! Not an easy task but makes good reading for us all.
If you have missed parts one and two, you can read them here:
Part One by Alison May
Part Two by Laura E James
Part Three by
Henriette Gyland
He was mocking her. Not in an obvious way
but there was a glint in those chocolate-drop eyes, a slight catlike narrowing
at the corners, as if he was waiting for her reaction and had a string of
smooth counter-reactions already in place to choose from.
Outmanoeuvred as always. Gritting her teeth, Kelly took an involuntary
step back, hating herself for it, and felt a warm, steadying presence behind
her.
Ade.
Solid, strong, dependable. The memory of their hug was still fresh in
her mind. She took a deep breath, all the way down to her belly as her old yoga
instructor had taught her, squared her shoulders, then stuck out her bosom with
the remnants of its pregnancy splendour, and smiled.
‘The best,’ she replied. With the ever-present urge to run her nails
down his cheeks, the smile cost her, but she managed to pull it off. Just.
Was it her imagination, or did the Grande mocking grin fade? No, it was
still there but frozen somehow. She resisted the temptation to lick her index
finger and mark a pretend score in the air.
‘You wanted to see me,’ she said instead.
‘Yes,’ he said and indicated for her to follow him. ‘I was pleased to
hear you would be returning from maternity leave. A lot of women don’t.’
‘A lot of women have husbands to look after them and their babies.’
‘True.’ He was quiet for a moment, then he added, ‘Anyway, you clearly
chose your career over motherhood, as I always knew you would. Just as well.
Yesterday I lost another qualified architect to the Hong Kong office. You
should fill his shoes nicely.’
Kelly couldn’t help it; she simply stared at him. Was he for real? Did
he seriously think she had actually chosen
to return, after what he’d pulled? She opened her mouth to make a snide remark,
then closed it again immediately. He knew her too well – a part of her had wanted to come back, had longed for
the buzz and the excitement of working in one of London’s top architectural
firms, rubbing shoulders with royal patrons and celebrities, as well as earning
good money. Money which had been nice to have back then and now was a
necessity. She had also wanted to show the world that it was possible to have
her cake and eat it.
More importantly, to show Damien Grande that a woman could do the job as
well as any man, maybe even better because of the female multi-tasking thing,
that motherhood wasn’t a hindrance in any way but rather like a momentary blip.
So why did entering the double doors to the inner sanctum feel like a
prison sentence and not the freedom it was meant to be? She thought of Lucas
when she’d left him with Jacqui at the nursery earlier, recalled his lovely
baby smell when he’d wriggled to get down and play. He’d seemed totally happy
for her to leave him. Obviously she wouldn’t want him to be unhappy, but it had
seemed as if she wasn’t important, which was nonsense, of course, just her
hormones talking. Work was supposed to make her feel important in a different
way, and it would, but the only thing she could think of was the wrench of
separation, as well as the glaringly obvious: Damien hadn’t even asked about
Lucas.
OK, he’d made it clear from the start that he wanted nothing to do with
the child and that she could expect no kind of commitment from him, but it
still rankled – no, hurt – that he wasn’t even curious about a child who
carried a part of him inside.
As the glass doors swung shut behind her, she cast a glance over her
shoulder. Ade was watching her, and his habitual cheery grin had been replaced
by a thoughtful frown.
About the Author
Henriette lives in London but grew up in Northern Denmark and moved to England after she graduated from the University of Copenhagen. She wrote her first book when she was ten, a tale of two orphan sisters running away to Egypt fortunately to be adopted by a perfect family they meet on the Orient Express.
Between that first literary exploit and
now, she has worked in the Danish civil service, for a travel agent, a
consultancy company, in banking, hospital administration, and for a county
court before setting herself up as a freelance translator and linguist.
Expecting her first child and feeling
bored, she picked up the pen again, and when a writer friend encouraged her to
join the Romantic Novelists’ Association, she began to pursue her writing in
earnest. Her debut Up Close won the New Talent Award in 2011
from the Festival of Romance and a Commended from the Yeovil Literary Prize.
Henriette’s novels include: Up Close, The Elephant Girl, Blueprint for Love and The Highwayman’s Daughter (May
2014).
Follow the rest of the story daily!
Love the way the story is going and the increasing tension.
ReplyDeleteGlad to hear it, Angela! And I'm really excited to see what the next person comes up with after me.
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Oh my goodness. Naughty Damien! Great stuff, Henri :-)
ReplyDeleteThis is great! Really enjoying the unravelling story.
ReplyDeleteI'm enjoying these!! :)
ReplyDeleteOohh!!! Where next? Fab. xx
ReplyDeleteBrilliantly done Henri :) Nice bit of tension going on there now. I would say 'what next?' but it's me!
ReplyDeleteWas it scary to say that, Berni? Because after you, that's exactly what I'm going to be saying and I'm REALLY scared.
DeleteI love this party game concept. It's fun but it's scary, too, when you're personally involved.
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