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SYNOPSIS

Tragedy strikes Jen Friedman when a freak gas explosion kills her husband and destroys her house.  Feeling herself overcome with despair she tries to make sense of what has happened and rebuild her life once more.

The huge amounts of compensation do little to comfort her as she seeks solace in a remote Scottish coastal village.  Once there she befriends the locals and starts to see hope in her future once more.  Using her money, she purchases an island just off the coast of the village and rebuilds the old cottage.  By buying the island she is saving the local seals and providing them a haven of safety.

It’s only once she has moved onto the island that strange events plague her planned peaceful life.  She is being attacked by dark supernatural forces and is thrown into a world of magic, mystery and myth.

Her life in danger, her only hope lies in her bonds with the villagers, who are harbouring a dark secret.

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

Razor sharp glass arrowheads seared through the air slicing and embedding into any surface they encountered.  Flesh parted as the merciless miniscule missiles, their diamond tips glinting in the light, pierced their way forwards till gravity pulled them to the ground.

“You dirty bastard!”  John Freidman snatched his bare foot away from the fragments of the shattered bottle.  Three of the shards had embedded themselves in the top of his foot, a foot he now suspected had a broken bone.

Sucking air in between clenched teeth he pulled the fragments out, crimson beads of blood pulsing onto his flesh.  John lent heavily against the work surface as he looked for a safe pathway to the kitchen chair.  Stumbling, he managed to make it to a seat without further injury, a condition that was about to be short lived.  Leaning back against the rest he fought back tears of frustration and pain.  His day had started off badly and was about to get a whole lot worse.

At first, he thought the hissing sound was his own laboured breathing but as the fog of pain from his foot began to subside, he realised that something else was making its presence known.  The faint odour caused his eyes to widen in fear and alarm.  Snapping his head around to find its source was the last thing he ever did.  He had no time to fathom what his eyes registered before they melted from his burning skull, his body blasted to fragments like the broken bottle. A quick and merciful end to his suffering.

 

Jen tapped the counter in frustration.  Why hadn’t John bothered to check for milk and eggs?  She tried to quell the annoyance rising inside of her, feeling like everything was left up to her.  The shop assistant, eyes like a zombie (blood-shot and zoned out) finished scanning the goods.  “Five pounds, sixty pence please.”  The assistant’s face almost cracked into a smile.  Jen shook her head at the ridiculous price she had to pay and rummaged in her purse for the exact amount.  She handed it over, tucked the milk and eggbox into her bag and turned to leave.  A split second before the sound she felt a jolt in her very core, a shiver through her soul. John! Then the rush of air followed, the roar too close to be thunder.  Car alarms went off, splitting the air but doing little to pierce the shocked silence following in the aftermath of the explosion.

She watched in mild confusion as paper, ragged cloths and a faint billowing cloud of dust floated by the shop window.  Then the screaming started.  Dropping her bag, the eggbox fell open, spilling its fragile cargo across the chipped tile floor.  The eggs cracked and leaked their viscous contents slowly along the hard surface and into the crevices.  Jen staggered forwards on faltering steps.  She stumbled through the doorway, the heart-wrenching pain in her gut telling her before her eyes looked across the estate to the open skyline where her house once stood.

People were running towards the settling dust cloud.  In the distance the ringing sound of the emergency services could be heard as they rushed to the scene.  Jen found herself running with everyone else, a strange screeching sound around her.  Only when her throat and vocal cords began to ache did she realise it was her own voice screaming for John.  She arrived at the devastation as the Police and Fire Services began to block off the area.  A fluorescent jacket in front of her and strong arms holding her back brought Jen to her senses.  “Ma’am I need you to stay back!”  The voice of the officer tried to sound calm but faltered with fear.  “The area’s not safe.  GET BACK NOW!” The fear sounded like anger as he almost threw her away.

“IT’S MY FUCKING HOUSE!”  She screamed, her hands like claws grasping at the dusty air around her, “IT’S MY FUCKING HOUSE!”  The Officer blinked in shock as he registered what she was saying.

“Ma’am…MA’AM!” He gripped her arms again and shook her, “WAS THERE ANYONE IN THE HOUSE?”  Jen looked at him dumbfounded, her cracked voice sticking in her throat as she nodded, eyes locked on the man in front of her.

“Y…y…yes.” The words squeezed themselves between her teeth.

“How many?  Who was in there?”  The Policeman was now leading her to one side as his colleagues controlled the crowd that gathered.  “Ma’am, I need to you to tell me.”  He looked over her shoulder at a paramedic and nodded for them to come over.  “Ma’am, what’s your name?”

“What?”  Jen blinked again, her mind reeling and struggling to comprehend that the pile of rubble and dust was what was left of her home.

“What’s your name sweetheart, you need to tell me.”  The Policeman was gently moving her over to an ambulance.

“My…my name?”

“Yes.”

“Jen…I mean Jeannie.  Jeannie Friedman.”

“Jeannie, can you tell me if anyone was in the house?”  A Fire Office had now appeared beside him, waiting for an answer.

“My husband John.  He was showering when I left to get eggs and milk and…” Jen trailed off as her eyes filled with tears, sobs erupting from her soul, “JOHN! JOHN!” She collapsed into the arms of the paramedic who half dragged, half guided her into the ambulance.  The Policeman and Fire Officer turned back to the crater where John had once lived.  A Gas Repair Crew had arrived on scene to make sure there were no more leaks in the area.

 

Numbness had engulfed her, a sleepwalker going through the motions of living whilst her heart slowly died.  Jen had no family, few friends and nowhere to go except a hotel paid for by the Gas Company until her insurance paid out.  The funeral for John had been a farce.  There was not enough of him left to merit a coffin, but convention required it.  She had sat alone in the family pew, staring at a wooden box containing a few scraps of flesh and bone.  The two or three other mourners were John’s work acquaintances, showing face for his Company.  They had sent Jen beautiful bouquets of flowers which now adorned her hotel room and were now dying slowly like her.

 

Three weeks later the life assurances policies had paid out and were closed, leaving her bank account with a healthy sum of money to make a new start. Standing up and wiping the tears from her red and swollen eyes she stared at herself in the mirror, her slight frame tight and tense.  Get a grip of yourself Jeannie. She pulled back her shoulders, John’s gone and that’s it.  It’s not fair and it hurts like fuck, but you only have two choices.  Go on and live your life like John would want or join him.  Her eyes strayed to the bathroom, and she could see herself lying in a bath full of blood, her wrists slashed.  Shaking her head, she threw the images out of her mind.  Think about the poor bastard that would find you.  Do you want their trauma on your conscience? Grabbing her bag, she decided to get out for some fresh air, maybe pay a visit to her solicitor to see how the compensation payout from the Gas Company was coming along.  The handle straps strained with the weight of the bag’s contents.  I’m going to have to empty this.

Tipping the contents onto the bed she threw away the used hankies, stacked the business cards, opened her bulging purse, taking out most of the coins.  She put her phone and purse back in, her hand brushing against the set of keys, keys for a house that no longer existed.  Her stomach lurched and she fought down the swell of tears building once more.  Gripping the keys in her hand she tried to decide what to do with them.  She knew it was pointless holding onto them but bizarrely she felt this was the only physical connection she still had with John.  She placed her keys on the bedside table, her fingers lingered for a moment on their metal surface.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her slightly lighter bag and headed out the door, down the corridor and into the foyer of the hotel.  The Concierge smiled at her as she passed the desk, a smile tinged with sympathy.  It seemed that everyone knew who she was and what had happened.  Jen pulled her hood up as she made her way out into the street, keeping her head down, avoiding eye contact.  The press had finally given up trying to badger her for a statement, or to tell them ‘How she felt’.  The gaggle of journalists had moved on to another scoop. ‘Today’s front page is tomorrow’s fish and chip wrappers’ her Grannie would say, and she was right.

Making her way onto the High Street Jen kept her eyes down. Her Solicitor’s office was just around the corner and although she hadn’t made an appointment, she knew they would be happy to see her.  Afterall, whatever she was paid out they were getting twenty percent of, so she was their number one client. Jen’s eye was distracted by a glint on the pavement.  She smiled to herself as she picked up the one-pound coin, rolling it between her fingers.  Turning to the small Newsagent Shop she shrugged to herself, why not.  Pulling down her hood and walking up to the counter she placed the coin down and sighed.

“Can I help you?”  The shop assistant smiled her professional smile as her eyes narrowed slightly looking at Jen’s face.  “Do I know you?”

“Maybe, I was in the papers, the house explosion.”  Jen was impressed that her voice didn’t catch in her throat, she supposed she was getting used to saying those words.  The assistant’s eyes widened and filled with sympathy,

“Oh!  Yes, I remember, I’m so sorry for your loss.”  She had the good grace to look a bit embarrassed. “What can I get you love.”

“I would like a lucky dip lottery ticket please.”  She shoved the coin over and waited for the machine to randomly select her numbers.

“There you go.”  The shop assistant hesitated, “You know these are two pounds now?”

“Oh!  No, I didn’t, sorry.”  Jen started to rummage in her bag.

“Hey, it’s alright, don’t worry.”  The assistant dipped into her tips bowl and stuck the extra coin in the till, “I hope you get lucky; you bloody deserve it.”

“Thank you.  Are you sure?”

“Yes of course.  See you later then.”

“Yes, thanks again.”  Jen stepped out and slipped the ticket into one of the many zip pockets in her handbag, continuing her journey to the Solicitors.