Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
A Note from Bombshell Books:
Acknowledgments
The Trouble with Words
Suzie Tullett
Copyright © 2017 Suzie Tullett
The right of Suzie Tullett to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2017 by Bombshell Books
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.bombshellbooks.com
For Elijah, Rafe, and Penelope
My three little angels
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
A Note from Bombshell Books:
Acknowledgments
1
Annabel checked her watch and groaned. She’d always had a problem with punctuality. No matter how hard she tried, how early she left the house, or even how fast she drove, she always seemed to be running late – a reality that had only gotten worse over the last couple of years. Despite any good intentions, it seemed even days like today weren’t enough to get her act together. Then again, was it any wonder? Lost in her own thoughts most of the time, minutes often turned into hours without her even realising.
She dropped the car a gear as the brake lights in front turned red. ‘Not that all this traffic seems to be helping any,’ she said. ‘Blooming Sunday drivers.’
Forced to come to a complete standstill, Annabel looked through her rear view mirror. With her car and theirs almost touching, she easily eyed the middle-aged couple sitting directly behind. Staring straight ahead, neither party exchanged a single word. Annabel assumed they were husband and wife, and thought it sad. She wondered if they’d always been that miserable together or if they’d simply woken up one morning and realised they had nothing left to say. Either way, she felt like going and banging their heads together. Some people didn’t know they were born.
She couldn’t bear to watch them any longer and diverting her attention, caught sight of a boy racer on the other side of the road. ‘Now there’s someone I’d definitely like to slap,’ she said, her pulse quickening.
Annabel knew that under normal circumstances, he’d be beeping his horn and revving his engine by now. Drivers like him didn’t care about anyone but themselves. This lad looked too shattered to create a fuss though and she guessed he was only just on his way home after a very heavy night out. He let out a long yawn and Annabel shuddered as he propped his elbow on the steering wheel so he could rest his head in his hand. She’d have put money on him still having alcohol in his system. Selfish bastard!
Refusing to let him get well and truly under her skin, Annabel began a more general look around, while telling herself it must be one of those days. No doubt most of it thanks to all this stopping and starting, but everyone in sight appeared as fed up as each other. Well not quite everyone, Annabel realised, her eyes happy to settle on one set of travellers in particular. Her heart began to melt. ‘That’s more like it.’
Continuing to watch them, she couldn’t help but smile. Animatedly belting out a rendition of some song or other, the jolly family of three was certainly making the most out of their journey. Looking at the age of the tot strapped into the rear car seat, Annabel guessed it could only have been a nursery rhyme. Probably Eensy Weensy Spider, she thought, based on their accompanying actions, and with the tune instantly popping into her head, she felt tempted to join in.
She wondered if it was a sign, a message letting her know that despite the obvious concerns, she was still doing the right thing. She hoped so. At any rate, she couldn’t help the warm glow settling in her tummy as she imagined the day in the not too distant future when she, too, would become a mother. She readily envisaged making a public show of herself in much the same way as the nearby trio. As far as Annabel was concerned, her little family was going to have as much fun as possible and at every available opportunity. Life was way too short for anything else.
The traffic began to move again, bringing Annabel back to the task at hand. ‘Finally,’ she said, at last shoving the car into gear and moving off. ‘Maybe now I’ll actually get there.’
Following the flow of vehicles, it never failed to surprise her how many people took themselves out and about at this time, as opposed to enjoying a Sunday morning lie in. Given a choice that’s what she’d be doing. She and Tom would be propped up against their pillows right now, sipping on freshly brewed coffee while reading the papers. Something Annabel knew her husband would rather be doing too.
She pictured him pacing up and down as he awaited her arrival, telling herself he had to be used to her unfortunate time keeping by now. But, regardless of all the other road users, Annabel still couldn’t excuse her lateness. She felt guilty and hated the thought of him simply hanging around on her account. Anxiously tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she negotiated one road after another, and insisted that next time she really would do better.
At last, she spotted the church spire and, swinging her little car into the nearest parking space, she just as quickly hit the brakes, forcing her vehicle to a screeching halt. Emergency-stop complete, she took a second to compose herself. About to reveal the biggest news she’d had in a long time, the last thing she wanted to do was to make a hash of it.
She threw off her seat belt, and checked her watch again. ‘Shit!’ She jumped out of the car; even she hadn’t realised she was that late. Unfortunately, this meant she now had to blooming well run and, sadly for any observers, her running had always been as bad as her being on time.
She grabbed a shopper and deckchair from the boot and hot-footed it along the path. However, struggling with the weight of her load, her foot seemed to catch and she almost fell. ‘Jesus Christ!’ she said. Tumbling forward, her heart leapt as she just about managed to keep her balance. ‘Phew, that was close.’
Blushing, Annabel quickly g
lanced around. It would be just her luck to end up an unwitting participant on one of those TV mishap shows or worse still, an unsuspecting Internet sensation. Relieved to find that nobody or their camera had borne witness, she collected herself. She had enough to talk about this morning, without having to add a sprained ankle to the agenda. She pictured Tom’s amused expression, had she been forced to limp towards him. He’d always said if anyone could trip over their own feet it was her. But it was alright for him, wasn’t it? He’d never run behind schedule either.
Continuing on her way, she slowed her step a little so as not to stumble again and, for the first time in a while, took the opportunity to take in her surroundings. This was something she tended not to do these days. For one, she’d followed this route so often that she didn’t need to. In fact, she could’ve done it blindfolded given the opportunity. But more importantly, it was such a uniform environment, man-made by its very nature, and in Annabel’s experience, painful rather than peaceful.
She took in the array of organised flowers coming at her from all angles. But whereas some people could seek solace in a place like this, for her, it was still a cemetery; a place of death – no matter how well the grounds were tended and the graves lovingly cared for. Annabel knew paying it too much attention only put her in danger of feeling full of angst all over again. Tearful for the young and, dare she admit it, bitter for the old. She’d been there, done that and got the T-Shirt.
Picking up her pace, Annabel began to feel quite proud. For once, actually able to recognise how far she’d come. Thinking about it, it didn’t seem all that long ago she’d have read more or less each and every one of these headstones, trying to gain comfort in the knowledge that, compared to some, her loved one had enjoyed a more reasonable stretch here on Earth. All in stark contrast to these days, she admitted. Now she knew reading dates on granite slabs made her just plain morbid and while the unfairness of it all still refused to leave her, at least that gut wrenching rawness had gone. Her heart had begun to feel broken rather than ripped out and she could finally think about the future as well as the past.
‘Sorry, Tom,’ she said, at last approaching his final resting place. ‘I know, I know, I’d be late for my own funeral given half the chance.’ She paused. That was another thing she’d noticed recently, her sense of humour making a return.
Chuckling, she leaned her chair against his head stone, at the same time wondering if her dearly departed considered such words bad taste. Probably not. Knowing him, he’d be laughing too; pleased she’d gotten to the point where she could actually joke about these things. No matter the subject, out of the two of them he always had been the one to see the funny side of life. Or in this case, she pondered, should that be death? She began to picture his smiling face. Tom, her eternal optimist.
She snapped herself back into the present, telling herself that anyway, if she didn’t laugh, the only alternative was to cry and today of all days she certainly didn’t want to do that. Having reached a sort of milestone she felt determined that nothing and no one was going to spoil things, not even herself. Besides, haven’t I shed enough tears already?
She turned her attention to his grave, but couldn’t bring herself to pull up the dandelions that had sprouted in the days since her last visit. They were yet another sign that spring was well underway and while most people considered them weeds, she quite liked the bright, abandoned cheeriness that came with them. Something that couldn’t be said about the now wilting, blue violets, which she took out of their vase, and laid to one side, ready to replace them with her new offering. Carefully taking a posy of forget-me-nots out of her bag, she admired their simple beauty against the harshness of the stonework. ‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘Something new for you to enjoy, Tom.’
Opening out the deckchair, she plonked herself down in it. ‘So how’s your week been?’ she asked. She paused, not that she really expected a reply, but it was nice to know he was listening if nothing else. ‘Mine’s not been too bad,’ she continued. ‘The shop’s still doing okay. Oh, and your mum called round the other day.’ Remembering the visit all too well, Annabel tried not to scowl. ‘She said to say hello.’
She reached down and dipped her hand into her bag again, this time pulling out a flask of coffee. ‘Caffeine, just what I need after the hassle of getting here,’ she said. ‘As usual the traffic was horrendous.’
Pouring herself a drink, she knew her ramblings were an attempt at stalling the inevitable; that she was worried about Tom’s reaction once she’d told him what she was up to. While her plans for the future might be a positive move on her part, she certainly wasn’t daft enough to think everyone would understand. If anything most people wouldn’t, especially if his mother’s reaction had been anything to go by.
She thought it strange how everyone and their dog insisted she move on, yet the second she did they created such a song and dance over it. Although if Tom did choose to join in with the dissenters, then just like them he’d only have to get used to the idea; particularly when this was entirely his fault to begin with. Annabel didn’t want to play the blame game, but just like she’d said to his mother, she wouldn’t be in this position if he hadn’t upped and died in the first place. In her mind’s eye, she could see Tom sitting opposite, his hands clasped as he patiently waited for her to tell him what was really on her mind. The man always could read her like a book.
‘Okay, okay,’ she said. ‘Just give me a second.’
She took a couple of sips of coffee, determined to reveal all. But, in spite of practicing her speech all week, now that it came to it, those well-chosen words seemed to fail her. Resting her cup on her knee and refusing to let her conviction wane, she realised she was just going to have to come out and say it.
After three, she told herself. One, two, three …
She squeezed her eyes shut, in anticipation of the lightning bolt no doubt about to strike her down.
‘I’m going to have a baby,’ she said.
2
‘Wow!’ said Katy.
As Annabel entered the living room, she felt her cheeks start to redden. Was that wow in a good way? Or wow as in bad? It had been so long since she’d hit the town, she didn’t have a clue what constituted the perfect Saturday night outfit these days. And while it felt good being all dressed up for a change, standing there in full make-up, a pair of high heels and tightly fitted black dress, she couldn’t help but think she might have gone a bit over the top.
‘You’re sure you don’t think it’s too much?’
‘Annabel,’ Katy replied. ‘You look amazing.’
Although reassuring to hear, Annabel still couldn’t relax. Embarking on a new chapter in life felt way scarier than it did exciting. Moreover, she knew if she thought about the evening ahead too much, she was in danger of backing out.
Still, with her attire concerns out of the way, at least she could now have a proper go at tackling her nerves. The first glass of wine might not have done the trick on the anxiety front, but Annabel was sure as dammit that the second one would. She indicated to the open bottle of red sat on the coffee table. ‘Drink?’ she asked.
Katy shook her head. ‘I’m driving remember. And besides, one of us has to make sure you don’t make a complete fool of yourself.’
Any other time and Annabel would have appreciated the honesty. But while the two of them had been friends long enough for her to know that Katy didn’t mean any malice, on this occasion a bit of support wouldn’t have gone amiss. This was a huge step she was about to take, by far the biggest since Tom’s death. And not only that, it wasn’t as if she’d simply sprung this on her; Katy had known about her plans for ages, giving her more than ample time to get her head around them.
‘Spoil sport,’ said Annabel, reaching for the bottle. ‘You don’t mind if I do though, do you? Dutch courage and all that.’ She poured herself one hell of a measure, managing to drink half of it down in one go.
‘Annabel!’
‘W
hat?’ she replied. Meeting her friend’s horror with feigned innocence, the look on Katy’s face told her she was having none of it.
‘I really don’t think you should be doing this,’ she said.
‘Drinking alcohol, you mean?’ asked Annabel. ‘Or going out on the pull?’ She knew she sounded glib, but someone had to try and lift the atmosphere. A girls’ night out was meant to be fun after all.
Katy rolled her eyes, clearly still not in the joking mood.
‘Oh come on, lighten up. You’re the one who kept saying I should move on.’
‘Yes, but not like this.’
Feeling at a loss, Annabel took a seat on the sofa and poured herself another, more acceptably sized glass of wine. This time making sure to just sip it, she wished she was braver, that she had the guts to cut Katy loose for the night, absolving her best friend of her best friend duties. Regardless of any previous discussions, Katy obviously still thought she was losing the plot. But even with her bravado, Annabel couldn’t quite bring herself to go it alone. Instead, she found herself yet again trying to explain herself. She needed her friend to know this wasn’t some half-baked idea she’d come up with simply for the sake of it.
‘We talked about having kids,’ she said. ‘Tom wanted to start trying from day one but I kept putting it off.’
‘I remember,’ said Katy, with a smile. ‘What was it he used to say?’
Annabel began to smile too. ‘Something about the world needing a few more little Annabels and Toms running around the place.’
The Trouble With Words: a heart-warming romantic comedy Page 1
