“Yeah, and what’ll you give me in return? For my silence…”
“What else do I have left to give you?”
“Hopefully more of yourself…”
“Oh baby,” my dad said.
I took that as my cue to get the hell away from their impending sexy time and I crept back upstairs, drinking from the bathroom tap instead.
I lay in bed that night, thinking of her, as I always did. Her puffy lips, big blue eyes, long, blonde hair. Husky, breathy voice and something about the way she moved. Confident and carefree, but defensive too.
I was mad about her.
And the next week, I bumped into the new version of Hetty, blue hair and all. There was something different about her that day. She was volunteering in town and I got her to agree to a non-date.
I went to Jules before I set off to pick up Hetty. She was in her office and I shut the door.
“Joe?” she questioned. “What’s up?”
“I’m taking Hetty out tonight.”
“Yeah?” She sounded excited about that, but caught herself quickly, trying to seem indifferent instead.
Sitting down on the edge of her desk, I asked, “If you’ve got a hint for me, a little something, I’d be pretty grateful right now.”
She stared me straight in the eye and said, “You want some insight?”
I felt sheepish but I nodded with a definite, “Yes.”
Jules put her hands together and blew out a deep breath. “Joe. I can’t tell you what she went through. Not only would she bollock me, it’s not right for me to tell you details about her past.”
“You’re right.” I bowed my head.
Then she stood up and took my hand, staring right into my eyes. “I have some advice if you’d like some, though?”
“Please! PLEASE!” I pleaded, feeling nervous as hell.
She smiled right into my eyes. “You need to be ready. You need to be one step ahead of her, all the time. She’ll try to destroy anything good that comes along in her life. There’s really only one way to tackle her.”
“Yeah?” I asked, feeling hopeful.
I mean, I’d only been dreaming about this girl for nearly twelve months now. I needed whatever help Jules could give me. I wanted to get this right. I wanted Hetty.
“You want to know?”
“Yeah, come on! I’ve gotta go get her soon. And I don’t want Dad knowing about this…”
Jules chewed the end of her pen, nodding slightly. “My lips are sealed.”
“Just give me a heads up then, tell me what to do.”
“Simple,” Jules said, “it’s so simple. Love her, not gently or frivolously, but like your whole life depends on her, like she lights up the very fire that keeps you burning, like the universe won’t be right until you two end up together, like nothing makes sense unless she’s next to you. Devote yourself, but not with half of yourself out there, give the whole of yourself. I’m just saying. Maybe if I’d realised that a long time ago, your dad and me might have saved ourselves a whole heap of heartache. Never hold back on something you really, really want.”
With raised eyebrows, I pouted, folded my arms and looked down on her. “Anyone ever told you you’re a bit, deep?”
“And yet still not as deep as your father, Joe.”
I grinned, walking out of the room with all her words whirling around my head.
“Oh, Joe,” she shouted after me as I almost went down the stairs and out of the house.
“Yeah?”
“Ditch the baggy jumper, eh? Surely there’s a point to you spending every spare second in the gym? Just saying, it couldn’t hurt. All guns blazing and whatnot.”
I laughed and chased back up to the attic, raiding the closet.
WHEN we arrive at the hotel, shabby chic though it is, my wife looks revived and refreshed already, like she’s been waiting to come back here for months – for her spirit to stock up on fresh air and peacefulness.
I don sunglasses and we book in under pseudonyms. Nobody seems to recognise me.
We get to the room and as soon as we’re inside, I pull her close and kiss her sweet, pouty lips.
“I’ll run the bath,” I murmur against her mouth.
“I’ll get naked, then.” That look of desire and calm in her big blue eyes has me smiling inside.
The tub starts filling and she waltzes in, all limbs, breasts bouncing as she trots. She comes to me, unbuttoning my shirt, sliding it off my shoulders. Pushing her soft, warm body against mine, she asks, “How about it, stud?”
“How about what, honey?”
“How about one more round, hey?”
I have no idea what she’s talking about until she pushes my hand against her stomach.
“I feel ready to try again,” she whispers, her eyes wide and imploring.
I can hardly believe this happiness is true. Now everything makes sense – her selling off parts of the business and agreeing so readily to move back here.
Embracing the rush of elation I feel, I kick the taps off with my toes and sweep her up into my arms.
“Fuck the bath,” I groan, and she’s beneath me in bed before she knows what’s happening. “Fucking love you Etta Jones.”
Her eyes glistening, she explains, “I’m ready.”
“I’ve been waiting.”
I open my jeans and she kicks them down.
This woman and the achievements she’s made are my greatest achievements.
“I love you, Henrietta. No man ever loved more.”
“‘Only you and I, only you and I, my love,’” she says, quoting my favourite poet.
“Scotch eggs, baby. Scotch eggs…”
And she’s crying laughing as I start loving her.
For both of us, it’s always like coming home.
THE END
I don’t think I’ve ever cried so many tears writing a book as what I did with this. As soon as I had time to write Hetty’s story, it pelted out of me. I adore Hetty more than this novel could ever convey; I simply worship everything she is and stands for.
There are parts of this story which are based in reality, realities not pretty or pleasant, but real nonetheless. I don’t want to ruin the story by telling you which pieces of real life I plugged into this story, but let me say, the ‘Mars’ of real life survives. I killed him off in this book because they say that death brings life, and Hetty needed life.
If you laughed throughout reading, you can guarantee I was laughing throughout the telling. If you cried, you can bet I was crying then too. I absorbed this book as if it was becoming my soul, as if it would be a part of me forever, and it will be.
This has been one of the best writing experiences I have ever had and I am so thankful you were here to join me for the ride.
Please, all I ask, is that you REVIEW!! Go to Amazon and review, and hopefully, you’ll be helping others find and discover more about Hetty, too.
God, I loved this. Every minute.
All love,
Sarah x x
About the Author
Sarah Michelle Lynch is a former TV magazine journalist who escaped the confines of tiny column space, instead unleashing her words into sprawling, fictional landscapes. She published her first novel in 2012 after a bout of maternity leave gave her chance to tap at the keyboard fictionally (for a change). She writes dangerously – from the head and the heart – so you never know what might happen next. (Even she doesn’t.) Sarah has already turned down one book deal from a London publisher because for her, it isn’t about the figures, but the freedom to express – which self-publishing has provided. Since 2012 she has published over 20 titles (and counting…). By day she’s an editor and loves working on new projects and developing new ideas.
Sarah loves writing and even more, loves reading. For her the two go hand in hand. So if you’ve read her writing, you’re welcome to make friends with Sarah on any of her social networks.
Tweet: @SarahMichelleLy
FB: @SarahMLynch
Email: [email protected]
IG: @sarahmichellelynch
Site: http://sarahmichellelynch.wordpress.com
(You can also find Sarah on Pinterest, Tumblr and many other social networks)
Also by the Author
http://author.to/sarahmichellelynch
A Fine Profession
A Fine Pursuit
The Chambermaid’s Tales
The Radical
The Informant
The Sentient
Unbind
Unfurl
Unleash
Dom Diaries
Angel Avenue
Beyond Angel Avenue
Hetty
Fabien
They Say I’m Doing Well
Tainted Lovers
Christmas Lovers
The Contract
The Fix
The Risk
Break The Cycle: An Anti-Bullying Anthology
(more titles coming soon…)
Hetty: An Angel Avenue Spin-Off Page 29
