Final Dream , livre ebook

Troubador Publishing Ltd - Wendy Pulford

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160 pages

English

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Widower Simon Deveraux is finding his personal and professional life complicated as he tries to bring up his young daughter Joanna and run his financial business empire.Annoyed by ill-informed comments from a young teaching assistant, he embarks upon a scheme to teach her a lesson and employs her as a companion for Joanna during the summer holiday. A close bond forms between Joanna and Amy, but also brings danger from the pastBeing made aware that a business acquaintance intends to ruin both his good name and his business, Simon agrees to assist in bringing this person to justice; although at a risk, not only to his business, but unbeknown to anyone, Joanna's safety.After a casual meeting with Rose, an experienced nursing sister who is trying to restructure her life after two failed love affairs, Simon feels an immediate strong attraction to her. Simon seeks her out after his daughter is kidnapped and with his business life spiralling out of control, Rose feels compelled to help him.With Joanna now rescued and taken to live in France by her grandfather, Rose is finally made aware of the family secret surrounding Simon's daughter fearful that Simon will no longer need her and to save herself, she flees back to her home in Ireland.Can Simon find lasting happiness and reunite with the two people he loves the most?

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Publié par	Troubador Publishing Ltd
Date de parution	28 novembre 2021
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781800466692
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	3 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Copyright © 2021 Wendy Pulford

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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ISBN 9781800466692

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

My thanks once again to all family and friends who have supported me throughout this latest endeavour.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter One
Haiti – March 2010
Rose McKenna pushed back the strands of long dark hair threatening to escape from the tight knot at the nape of her neck. It was hot and humid inside the small dispensary and she longed for the chance of a breath of fresh air. However, ignoring the discomfort, she continued to restock the plastic containers with the appropriate drugs from the boxes stored on shelves around her. Glancing at the fob watch pinned to her disposable apron, she noted her scheduled relief was overdue, and managed a smile. Gwenny lived in a world where time was an unnecessary nuisance, except in dire circumstances, and Rose considered it might soon prove to be one of those. If Gwenny delayed their handover any longer she might miss her flight out tonight… and she couldn’t wait to escape.
At that moment her friend bounced into the room. ‘Yes, I know I’m late Rosie, but I couldn’t find my glasses.’ Almost helpless without them for any close work, it didn’t stop Gwenny from misplacing this vital tool on an almost hourly basis. ‘Oh, you sweetie, you needn’t have started restocking, that should be my job. You’ve just done your shift, and you’ll be missing your plane if you’re not careful.’
Rose stepped away from the table, stripping off her disposable gloves and apron. ‘It’s all yours, Gwenny. I just thought it might be wise to be ready if any emergency cropped up.’
Running a hand through her mop of blonde curls the new arrival pointed outside. ‘It looks as if we might be busy tonight.’
Glancing out through the open door, Rose saw a line of mainly women, children and the elderly already forming up outside. Many of them had that lost and dazed look, with which she was only too familiar from her experiences in other parts of this war-torn and environmentally damaged world.
‘However much we do, it never gets any better, does it. I feel bad about leaving you all but…’
Her eye was caught by a pleasant-looking man of medium height with light brown hair, who was in animated discussion with one of the local Haitian representatives. She was overwhelmed by a seesaw of emotion; attraction and remembered intimacy fading into anger, the depth of which she still could not fathom.
Gwenny touched her arm. ‘He’ll be gone in a month. You could always stay on. MSF needs someone like you too badly.’
Rose turned away, her dark eyes shadowed, and reached for her jacket. ‘No Gwenny, it’s for the best. The sooner I get away from Dr Max Stevens the better I’ll like it.’
‘One thing’s for sure, Rosie, I’ll make his last month here as awkward as I can, the louse!’
Her face breaking into a fond smile, Rose wrapped her arms around this amazing new friend. ‘It would almost be worth staying to watch. Thanks, Gwenny, for everything. You’ve been a brick.’
Seeing that the two men had now moved away, Rose stepped outside into the comparatively fresher air. Gwenny’s voice came floating after her. ‘Go find yourself a rich, handsome, sexy man, and have a ball; then break his heart for a change.’
*
As her flight gained its cruising height Rose relaxed back into the seat, trying to turn her thoughts away from the ravaged country below. After the earthquake struck, the humanitarian effort had been enormous. A fluent French speaker, she had been working at a clinic in Paris but, as many times before, had offered her services to Médecins sans Frontières, who were only too glad to make use of her experience.
Max had been among the other members of her group. He was a thirty-two-year-old South African. They soon came to admire their respective professional skills and began to coincide any off-duty time, where possible, and found their mutual respect turning into something warmer, leading, even in their difficult surroundings, to a physical relationship. They spoke together about plans for the future, and it seemed so right, both of them combining their medical expertise in a new venture. Then one day she had been in his office and an errant breeze had blown papers onto the floor. Picking them up, she noticed a handwritten letter in an obviously feminine hand, with the signature ‘Diane’ surrounded by kisses. Max had spoken of his lack of family and she began to have a bad feeling. She was so transfixed by the signature the letter was still in her hand when he came through the door. Even now, she could feel the hurt slicing through her as he haltingly explained that Diane was the reason why he had left South Africa. She had been a long-time girlfriend since college, but they had both decided on a break to make sure of their feelings. The letter had made it plain that Diane was waiting for him to return and he now realised that it was the same for him. His words about valuing their time together under difficult circumstances and never meaning to hurt her passed through her mind without registering – until later, when the tears came, and Gwenny found her.
Was there something wrong with her to have relationships ending this way? She was an intelligent, grown woman, and had been told she had inherited her ancestral dark Irish beauty. Paulo had called her his “dark princess”. He had been an Italian diplomat at the embassy in Paris when she first met him at an MSF fundraising evening. They had been a couple for nearly six months when he took her to Italy to visit his home and she immediately became aware of a problem. He came from an aristocratic Italian family, and it was obvious that his formidable grandmother took an instant dislike to her, making it plain that her grandson would make a better marriage with her own choice. Speaking to Paulo about it, expecting him to dismiss the matter out of hand as not important, she noticed he evaded any answer, and although they remained together for another month or so she knew there would be no future for them. His posting back to Rome, hastened she was sure by his grandmother’s influence, assisted in a civilised end to their association.
Tearfully explaining the situation to her mother on a visit back to Ireland, she had received merely a philosophical shrug and general words of comfort. Maureen McKenna’s pragmatic viewpoint, however, was probably based on the situation with her own husband. When Patrick McKenna had ended his career as an oil tanker captain, he announced his wish to settle in Australia and spend time tracing the families of McKenna ancestors who had also settled in that country; not all of them at their own choosing. Maureen had travelled the world with him during his career but now preferred to settle in the old family house in Ireland and expand her love of gardening. It was an amicable, if unconventional situation, but it seemed to work.
Rose often wondered if she had inherited a restless streak from her father, as, when qualified, she had sought nursing work in many parts of the world. Now, with her thirtieth birthday and two failed love affairs behind her she needed to reassess what she wanted out of life. For a start, she had decided to terminate her association with MSF. The clinic in Paris had left her theatre sister position open for her, but she would work her notice and leave. Returning to Ireland immediately was not an option. She could almost see her mother rolling her eyes heavenwards, lamenting yet again her daughter’s poor choices. No, she would go to London and see Aunt Moira, her mother’s twin sister. It was possible Uncle Henry might have a temporary job for her in his plush clinic. A little bit of pampering for once in easier working conditions might be just what she needed.
*
England – June 2010
The shrill note of fear in the young voice finally broke through Simon Deveraux’s mind-numbing tiredness.
‘Daddy! Daddy!’
Struggling to raise himself on one elbow, Simon forced his eyes open, and attempted to focus on the