by Karen Klyne
Sliding Doors
by Karen Klyne
2020
By the Author
Sliding Doors
Love for Auction
An Opening in Time trilogy
Parallel Lives
Crossing Over
Destiny of Hearts
Reviews for Karen Klyne’s Works
Love for Auction
As smooth as Phil is in her professional life, she isn’t with her relationship with Kim. Between the two of them they manage to mess up time and again, but they just are too miserable apart. I loved the story and these lovely ladies. I think they are just about perfect for each other and I liked being along for the ride. I think you will love it too and will not be disappointed in this delicious tale!! Ameliah Faith
I really enjoyed the story, it had the perfect amount of romance and drama to make it believable and exciting. Phil and Kim had quite a good friendship, and a very hot attraction to one another. They weren’t able to keep their hands off of each other, and it was quite apparent how well suited they were for one another, even when they were misunderstanding each other. I loved how they just got on and complimented each other, even though they were so different in personality. A great story, that I thoroughly enjoyed! LesBi Reviewed
An Opening in Time trilogy
Parallel Lives: Book One
Parallel Lives is an exceptionally well written story of love, personal discovery and passion. I adored it. Karen Klyne has a very impressive turn of phrase, one that is
irreverent and wicked and conjures up just the right image. Her world-building is deftly done and made me want to know more. I didn’t want to put it down! It was an excellent story, very emotional at times and I literally can’t wait for the next one in the series. Kitty Kat’s Book Review Blog
Crossing Over: Book Two
It was fantastic to be back with Kaitlin and Tannus as they embark on a new adventure, back in Cheshire. Very enjoyable second part of a wonderful and creative series, which I highly recommend. I can’t wait for the third instalment. LesBi Reviewed
I so enjoyed book one in this series, ‘Parallel Lives’, and have been eagerly awaiting the release of ‘Crossing Over’. I was certainly not disappointed. By the end I knew that I wanted more from this series. In a good way. I will be counting the days until book three comes out. I have grown to love these characters and want to find out what happens next. Kitty Kat’s Book Review Blog
Destiny of Hearts: Book Three
Destiny of Hearts is a fitting end to a wonderful series. The relationship between Kaitlin and Berran was tortured at times but the heat was always there. And I found myself really rooting for them—even though I have been a big fan of Tannus throughout. I really enjoyed this story and was so happy that it concluded in a beautifully satisfying way. Kitty Kat’s Book Review Blog
Truly a unique, and a fantastic example of world building, and a brilliant read. LesBi Reviewed
SLIDING DOORS
© 2020 by Karen Klyne. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction: names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without express permission by the author/ illustrator.
Cataloging information
ISBN: 978-1-9164443-8-6
CREDITS
Editors: Victoria Villaseñor and Nicci Robinson
Cover Design: Nicci Robinson, Global Wordsmiths
Production Design: Global Wordsmiths
Acknowledgements
Firstly, thank you again to Christine. You’re the one who puts up with me on a daily basis. You do it with patience and encouragement, although sometimes I’m sure you want to throttle me and throw me in the wheelie bin! Thank you for always being there, and I hope you’ll continue to share this journey with me.
I love writing, but it’s often harder than anyone can imagine. It’s not the shortage of ideas; I have a vivid imagination and even during my sleeping hours, I seem to come up with some bizarre story line. That is just the beginning. And that’s when I go see my awesome editor, Victoria Villaseñor, for help in developing the plot. She never fails, and she never ceases to amaze me.
When it’s come together, it moves on to Nicci Robinson for developing and producing the book, and creating one of her stunning covers. Then she looks after my marketing. Thanks, Nicci, keep up the great work. Between them, Victoria and Nicci are an impressive duo. Thank you, Global Wordsmiths.
Thanks again to Gemma at Writing Gems for the proof reading.
My sincere thanks to all you lovely readers who have given me so much support. When I see your reviews, I know it’s all been worthwhile.
I hope you enjoy reading Sliding Doors as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Dedication
For Tracey
True friends are hard to come by.
Friends who go that extra mile are rare.
You’re that person.
Thank you for your support, your
encouragement, and your honesty.
Chapter One
Gemma Tennant didn’t have a plan in mind when she left the house on the wettest day in August. She just needed to get away from the house and the negative thoughts crowding her mind. No umbrella, no hat, and no raincoat; only a light summer jacket, which wasn’t waterproof. She hardly noticed the weather until the rain streamed down her face and dripped inside her shirt. She wasn’t bothered, though. At least it meant she felt…something. She wandered down Main Street aimlessly with no clue where she was going, or even why. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
Out of nowhere, a short, sharp gust of wind nearly knocked her sideways. A leaflet circled in front of her like a spinning cone. On impulse, she tried to catch it, but it swished to the left and then to the right and ended up plastered onto the window of the pawn shop. Something about the brightly coloured leaflet in red and black swirls with vivid blue writing called to her, though she couldn’t fathom why. Gemma walked to the window and read it.
Have you come to the end of your tether?
Do you want to disappear and start a new life? You can.
Call me: 07777 777 777
Call me, Gemma!
Gemma shivered. You’ve got to be kidding. She reread the leaflet. This time there was no, “Call me, Gemma,” on the bottom line. She rubbed her forehead. She could have sworn she’d seen her name. The whole thing was weird, particularly the telephone number; that was a lot of sevens. All the same, she peeled it off the window. As she folded it in two, tingles shot up her arm like a mild electric shock. It clung to her fingers like glue, even when she held it up as an offering to the wind.
She found a dry tissue in her jacket, wrapped it carefully around the leaflet, and put it in her back pocket. It left her with an odd feeling, one she couldn’t explain. It was as if someone had read her mind, like someone was reaching out to tell her something. She touched her back pocket, and the sensation brought a smile to her face. She hadn’t smiled for a long time and for a moment, she felt like she could breathe again. What would it mean to start a new life? To begin again. A soft sliver of hope blossomed inside her as she held onto the idea that it was possible, somehow, to wake up to a world she wanted to be in.
She returned to an empty house. Her wife, Reece, was at work and their children were with the outlaws for the day. The outlaws: Val and Keith were her in-laws and people she’d rather not spend time with if she could help it.
She went upstairs to her bedroom, removed the tissue from her back pocket, and unwrapped it. She sat on the bed and read it again,
tracing the words with her thumb.
Was she hallucinating? Just hoping for something to spring her from the prison of her life? With all the alcohol, the anti-depressants, and the sleeping tablets, she wasn’t always sure what was real and what wasn’t. Sometimes days passed in a grey smudge of shapes and voices and all she wanted was go back to bed. She looked at the number again and shook her head. It didn’t look real. It must be a prank. In that case it didn’t matter, and it wouldn’t do any harm to call. She picked up her mobile phone, and her hands trembled as she punched the numbers in.
It rang twice, then a woman answered. “Hello. I’ve been expecting your call.”
Gemma cleared her throat. “Erm…I saw this leaflet and––”
“I thought you’d be interested, Gemma.”
“How do you know my name?”
“You told me.”
Had she? She wasn’t sure, but that didn’t seem right. “What does it mean?”
“I’ll tell you when we meet at twelve o’clock. I’ll send directions.”
“I’d prefer––” Too late, she’d hung up. Gemma put her fist to her mouth and bit her knuckle. Her phone pinged, and her hands twitched as she pressed the text symbol. According to the directions, it looked like the woman was in the woods at the back of the golf course. She didn’t know there were any houses there. She stared at the phone, trying to make sense of the conversation, of the possibility. Why not? She had nothing to lose and nothing else to do.
As instructed, she took a left by the golf course and drove for exactly half a mile down a twisty road. When she came to the bottom, she turned left again. The track was muddy, and she was glad she had a four-wheel drive. When she got to the well, she stopped. There it was: a little stone cottage. She looked in the rear-view mirror to see if there were any other cars or houses in sight, but there weren’t. She was utterly alone. This was foolhardy. Anything could happen to her, and nobody knew where she was, but she wasn’t sure she cared enough about living to worry about dying.
The door opened, and an old lady beckoned her to the house. Gemma took a deep breath and got out. She walked forward, shaking like she had a bad dose of flu. A wisp of air touched her cheek, and she calmed. She no longer felt threatened; in fact, she had a nice, floaty feeling. When she drew closer, she saw that the old lady was bent almost double, gnarled like an old oak tree, and looked about a hundred and twenty. Gemma vaguely thought she hadn’t sounded so old on the phone. She took Gemma’s hand and led her inside the cottage. The only light from a kerosene lamp hanging from an overhead beam threw the small space into shadows, giving it an otherworldly feeling like something out of a grim fairy tale.
The woman gestured for her to sit down, then she took a seat opposite. “You’re married to Reece, a woman you no longer love. You have two children you have little attachment to. Your parents live in Spain, and you hardly hear from them. You take medication and alcohol to combat your depression. You feel alone, unloved, and unwanted.”
Tears slid down Gemma’s cheeks. She pulled a tissue out, wiped her face, and blew her nose. She seemed to know everything about her, and hearing her life put into such blunt, sad terms hurt.
“Would you say that’s an accurate account of your life, Gemma?”
Gemma nodded, still bemused. The whole situation was surreal, like the grey blur she lived in had taken shape, but in the wrong way. “How do you know these things?”
“If it were possible, would you swap lives with someone else?” The old lady leaned forward and squinted at her, not bothering to answer Gemma’s question.
Gemma laughed, but the woman looked deadly serious. “Who with? Where? How would that be possible?”
The old woman’s eyes were dark and still, her gaze intense. “There are worlds running beside one another, people going about their lives walking the same space you’re walking. Aspects of it are the same as this one; there’s a version of you living there, just as you’re a version of her, living here. They’re parallel worlds, and there are sliding doors between them that you can walk through if you’re brave enough. Or desperate enough. I asked you one question. Answer it.”
Gemma ran her tongue over her dry lips and swallowed. “Would I be able to come back if it didn’t work out?”
“Never.”
“Would it be a better life? One where I’d be happy?”
“That would be up to you. But it would be different.”
“And the other person? I mean, how does it work?” She wanted to believe. She was desperate to believe.
“She’d slip into your life like a puzzle piece. Your memories would be hers, your life would be hers. The people in that life will see you, not her. She’d have no idea a change was made. Only you would have to adjust to her life, knowing what you know.”
“How would I know where to go? I mean, would someone take me there?”
“On the promenade, take your normal route home. You’ll walk through a haze. It will seem like an ordinary sea mist. When you’re through it the sliding door will close behind you. Your address will be the same as before.”
Gemma nodded. “Can I think about it and get back to you?”
“No. One chance. That’s all you have.”
That was crazy. How could she make that decision? Ten years of her life. Two children and a wife. And yet…she was suffocating under the weight of expectation, under the daily grind of being someone she didn’t want to be. She was losing more of herself every day.
The old lady gripped the arms of her chair and pushed herself up. Gemma got up to help her, but she waved her away. She went into another room and came back clutching a shoulder bag. “Take this with you. Don’t open it until you get home. There are instructions inside the zipper pocket.” She passed the bag over. “Goodbye, Gemma.”
That was it. She was dismissed even though she hadn’t given her answer. “Nice meeting you…err, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Names aren’t important. Deeds are.”
Vague and surreal seemed to be the name of the game. “What if I have some questions?”
“If you have any doubts, don’t do it.”
The old lady sat back in her chair, facing the fireplace with a small smile on her lips. It was obvious the meeting was over. Gemma slung the bag over her shoulder and walked to the door. “Bye. Thanks for listening, I guess.” She wasn’t sure why she said that. Gemma hadn’t said much at all. She’d been the one who was listening. All the same, it was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She closed the door, got into her car, and drove slowly away. When she looked in the mirror, the cottage was covered in a mist, like it was slowly fading into a dream. She put her foot down on the accelerator and got the hell out. On the drive home, she pondered the weird meeting. What had it been about? How had the woman known everything about her? Had she finally lost it and slipped into some kind of coma? Was she dreaming of fairy tales that would whisk her away from her life and into a world of adventure?
She swerved to avoid a pothole, and her heart raced. It certainly didn’t feel like she was dreaming.
She got back to the house, went straight to her room, and sat on the bed. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Twelve o’clock. How could it be? She looked at her watch. The same. She shook her head. She must have fallen asleep and dreamt it all. Disappointment surged through her, and her shoulders dropped. Then she spotted the bag. Shaking, she retrieved it from the floor and opened it up, then dropped it back on the bed. Christ. The scent of roses and apples filled the air, peaceful and soothing, and seemed to spread tranquillity into her room. She sensed no harm would come to her, so she opened the bag again and unzipped the compartment in the front. She unfolded the note inside.
If you choose to exchange identities, there is no going back! You will make of your new life what you want it to be.
Date: the Tuesday after the summer bank holiday.
Place: the main beach.
Time: 08:00 a.m.
In
structions: Take the shoulder bag with all your identification. Mobile phone, credit cards, driving license etc. You will see a woman on the beach with a dog. Follow her. When she turns to walk back along the beach, give her the shoulder bag. Tell her she has dropped it. Make sure she takes it.
Continue the way you are walking and go to your new home. The dog will follow.
Do not take anything with you. Only the clothes you are wearing. You will need a watch, but when you meet, drop it into the bag along with your wedding ring.
I wish you a happy new life.
Gemma began to laugh, almost hysterically. The old woman must have escaped from St. Alban’s asylum. Still…what if? She read it over and over again and thought about the proposition even though she didn’t believe it. Hypothetically though, would she do it? Was she that desperate? She looked around at the perfectly matched furniture, the bland colours, the mess of clothing on the floor, and the total lack of anything that felt like the woman inside her screaming to get out. The answer was a firm yes. The date was next week. If it didn’t work, no harm came of it. But if it did…
Chapter Two
There’s nothing quite like the smell of the sea air in the morning. It hangs in the back of your throat and leaves a briny taste on your tongue. Alex Gambol took a deep breath, and the salty breeze made her eyes water and her feet tingle with joy. She knew the tide was on the turn, though it wasn’t visible due to the somewhat unusual blanket of sea mist.
Her dog, Jasper, barked and bounced up and down with excitement as she threw the rubber ball as far as she could. He ran like the wind across the sand toward his toy.
