Author: Kerry Fisher
Published: 21st May 2015
Publisher: Avon Books
Today I am thrilled to be part of the blog tour for The Island Escape by the wonderful Kerry Fisher. I have a brilliant extract to share with you all. Enjoy!
EXTRACT
Pikestaff set out a sheet in front of her. I stood next to her, feeling as though I should make conversation, but what could I say? ‘Do you get many middle-aged, middle-class women in here?’ ‘Is it always this chaotic on a Thursday night?’
I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. I took a tissue from the box on the counter, a nasty cheap affair that disintegrated, leaving me picking bits of paper off my face.
Pikestaff ignored my pathetic little sobs and started running through my details. She scribbled away, stabbing an impatient full stop onto the paper after every answer as though there was a particularly salacious murder to solve just as soon as she could wash her hands of me. ‘Age?’ Thirty-nine. ‘Colour of eyes? Brown. ‘Distinguishing features?’ None. ‘Empty your pockets, please. Then I’ll just need to search you.’
I looked at her to see if she was joking. There didn’t seem to be anything funny about her. No wedding ring. I wondered if she had children. It was hard to imagine her soothing anyone to sleep. The disappointing contents of my pockets amounted to a Kleenex. She patted me down. Did she really think I had a knife tucked in my trousers? She rattled a plastic bag open. ‘I need your belt and jewellery.’
I dropped in my belt and bangle. I hesitated over my necklace. My Australian opals. Scott had brought them for me all the way from his native Sydney, his first trip home after Alicia was born, nearly fourteen years ago. I wrapped the necklace in a tissue and placed it in the corner.
I threw in the big diamond solitaire Scott had produced with a flourish on our fifth anniversary. ‘Show that to your father,’ he’d said. ‘Told you we’d survive without his handouts.’
Every time I looked at it, it reminded me of my father’s disapproval.
Pikestaff was still making notes. Judging by the concentration on her face, no ‘t’ would escape uncrossed.
I slipped off my wedding band. The skin underneath was indented. Pale and shiny after fourteen years in the dark.
‘You’re allowed to keep your wedding ring,’ she said, barely looking up.
I held it for a moment, absorbing its mixture of memories, then slowly slid it back onto my finger.
I handed her the bag and she scrawled away, listing the contents. She thrust the paper towards me. ‘Sign here, please.’ My hand was shaking so much I could barely form the letters of my name.
‘You have the right to a solicitor. Would you like me to arrange one or do you know someone?’
‘Solicitor? No. Thank you.’ I’d never even had a parking ticket before. Surely this wasn’t going to escalate into a proper full-blown police investigation? I was convinced that, sooner or later, one of Pikestaff’s minions would scuttle up and tell me I was free to go.
Pikestaff shook her head as though I didn’t have a clue. ‘Do you want to tell someone you’re here? You’re allowed a phone call.’
Fright was taking the place of rebellion but I declined. Scott knew I was here. That should be enough.
Surely that should be enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment