Friday 12 February 2016

Blog Tour: Time to Say Goodbye by S.D. Robertson

Title: Time to Say Goodbye
Author: S.D Robertson
Published: 11th February 2016
Publisher: Avon

Happy Friday wonderful booklovers! Today I am delighted to be part of the tour for Time to Say Goodbye by S.D Robertston. I have the pleasure of sharing an Extract with you. As usual, please do stop by the other blogs on the tour for some other great content posts.



Mum and Dad decided to stay at our house for the night,

to keep things as normal as possible for Ella. They took

the poky third bedroom, which was only slightly bigger

than the double bed it contained. I’d have rather they

used my room, but they felt it wasn’t appropriate – and

it wasn’t like they could hear my protests.

I was finding it increasingly frustrating that no one

could hear or see anything I said or did. The only external

confirmation of my existence came in the form of my

parents’ dog, Sam, who’d arrived with Dad. A usually

placid King Charles spaniel, he barked incessantly and

ran around in circles whenever we were in the same room.

It excited me at first, as I wondered whether I might be

able to use him to make contact with my family. But it

soon became clear that there was little chance of any

Lassie-type behaviour. He wasn’t the brightest of pets.

Plus he’d never liked me much when I was alive and

apparently death hadn’t changed that. Trying to talk to

him only served to increase the volume of his barking,

so I soon abandoned that possibility.

There was another moment of excitement when, to my

surprise, I realized I could see my reflection in the mirror.

My mother was brushing her teeth in the bathroom. I

must have passed mirrors before that, but this was the

first time it had registered.

‘Hey,’ I shouted, jumping up and down; waving like a

lunatic. ‘Look, Mum. Here I am.’

But she couldn’t see my reflection any more than she

could hear what I was saying.

I waited for Dad to follow her and tried again. I stood

beside him as he too brushed his teeth and washed his

face. There I was, clear as day, right next to him, asking

him to look at me. But apparently I was the only one who

could see it.

At least I looked to be in one piece. I was relieved not

to see any sign of the injuries I’d suffered in the crash.

‘None of this feels real,’ Mum said to Dad after the

two of them got into bed. ‘I keep thinking – hoping – I’ll

wake up and it’ll all have been a bad dream.’

Dad took her hand and let out a sigh.

‘I just feel numb,’ she continued. ‘After the initial shock

of it all – after telling Ella what happened – it’s like … I

don’t know. As if it’s happening to someone else. Not me.

Why aren’t I crying now? I feel I’m not reacting as I

should be.’

‘There is no right way to react,’ Dad replied. ‘Parents

aren’t meant to outlive their children.’

‘But how do you feel, Tom?’

He sighed again. ‘I’m putting one foot in front of the

other. We have to be strong for Ella.’

I couldn’t listen to any more of their conversation. It

felt too much like eavesdropping, so I walked to Ella’s

room instead. Sitting down on the floor next to her bed,

I was consumed by a rush of fears and anxieties.

How on earth would this fragile little girl manage

without me? Would I ever get through to her and, if not,

how could I survive here alone?

Oh my God, I’m dead, I thought, the terrible truth

starting to sink in. I’m actually dead. My life’s over. I’ll

never hug Ella again. I’ll never wash her hair, brush her

teeth or read her a story again. All those little things I used

to take for granted. Gone. Forever.

Then I thought back to the accident. Why the hell did

I go out on my bike in the first place?

Ella coughed in her sleep. I looked over at her flushed

face and her blond curls, matted and unruly across the

pillow, and it was enough to jolt me out of my spiral of

self-pity. ‘Stop it,’ I said. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

She’s the only thing that matters now.’

I hadn’t got a clue whether or not ghosts – or spirits,

as Lizzie put it – were able to sleep. I didn’t feel particularly

tired. But I lay down on the floor next to the bed

and tried to clear my mind, if only to be able to do my

best to get through to Ella in the morning. It took a while,

but eventually I drifted off.

I woke up the next morning alone in Ella’s bedroom.

Apparently she’d already got up. To my dismay, I noticed

the door was shut. My experience so far as a spirit had

been that I couldn’t interact with anything around me.

This meant I was trapped. However, I remembered a

scene in the film Ghost in which Patrick Swayze’s character

had to learn to pass through a closed door. It was

a flimsy information source, but what else did I have to

go on?

I walked up to it, held my hands out in front of me

and tried to push them into the wood. Nothing. I didn’t

get thrown backwards as I had after touching Ella or the

paramedics. I just couldn’t move past it. Next I tried to

turn the handle, although that was no use either. My hand

stopped upon reaching it, but I couldn’t feel or exert any

pressure on it.

I went back to trying to pass through the door. I imagined

myself doing so, pushing through like it was made

of liquid. I even tried running at it, shouting and screaming,

hoping my anger might unlock some hidden ability. But

nothing worked. I really was trapped until Ella came in

to get a jumper from her wardrobe a short while later

and I was able to exit the traditional way.

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