BooksBarbecue
Back One Winter Morning Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. By the same author
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. Acknowledgements
  54. Read More
  55. Two Years Later
  56. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

With a sigh, Bonnie sat up, dropping the pen on to the tabletop and stretching out her legs. She had barely slept on the multiple flights, too strung up by nerves to concentrate on any of the films or TV shows on offer. Eventually, she had found a playlist in the entertainment bundle entitled ‘chill time’, only to find that not even panpipes and gentle chanting could soothe her jittery heart.

She should sleep on it, that’s what she should do.

There was a crash from one of the downstairs rooms, and Bonnie guessed that her host was starting to prepare supper for the two of them. Again, she marvelled at how accommodating her old friend was being. After all, it wasn’t every day that a person you hadn’t seen for over twenty-five years turned up on your doorstep without warning, then proceeded to bawl like an agitated baboon.

‘Bon, love?’

She was calling up the stairs now. Bonnie got to her feet and trudged in her socks over to the bedroom door. The landing was painted purple and smelled faintly of lavender – probably thanks to the bowl of potpourri on the windowsill. The sight of such a chintzy and dated item brought tears back to Bonnie’s eyes, and she blinked them away with a smile.

‘Yeah?’ she replied.

‘Dinner in half an hour – and I’ve opened a bottle of red.’

Bonnie thought of her page of scribbled words, of how much more of the story she had yet to tell, and how much tougher it was going to get before she reached the end. She was glad that she was not alone, but then, she thought, as she switched off the bedroom light and made her way towards the inviting warmth of her old friend’s kitchen, perhaps she never really had been.

Penguin walking logo

9

It takes me a full minute to process what Kit has said. A whole sixty seconds where I simply stand, my mouth ajar, gazing at him in disbelief.

‘Bonnie’s gone to England?’

Kit makes a show of checking his watch.

‘Should be there by now, I reckon,’ he says. ‘At least, I hope she is, otherwise it means the poor old coot got lost somewhere en route.’

He is clearly amused. I am anything but.

‘Did she say why?’ I ask, clutched with a sudden fear that the reason might be me. Could my biological mother be trying to find me at the exact same time that I am trying to find her? No, why on earth should she? But then why is she there? Why now, on this week of all weeks?