It’s the first day on NaNoWriMo 2019 and I’ve already made a great start. I’m writing a time travel romance which I have been daydreaming about for years. I hope I can do it justice.
As a treat, I thought I’d share what I’ve written today. I’ve corrected the basic spelling and punctuation, but other than that it is as written in first draft mode, with very little editing.
July 2013
“Some say it is portal, you know.”
“What?” Lydia Harding frowned at her sister-in-law, Penny Harding, while Penny sat on the grassy bank of the small brook and looked back at her in earnest.
“The locals believe this is a portal. It is an old legend that goes back to medieval times.”
Lydia stared into the blackness of the cave behind the waterfall that gushed over the rocky outcrop. The spray from the falls coated her in a fine mist. No doubt her hair would be a mass of frizz by the time they made it back to the hotel.
“The legend says water sprites live here and have lured many an unwary visitor into the cave, never to be seen again.”
“Geez, Penny,” Lydia chuckled. “Is this another old Cornish legend, along with the ghosts in the tin mines, and King Arthur?”
Penny’s gaze darted from the waterfall to her left and along the tree line that encompassed the glade. “Don’t mock the water sprites. You may offend them and then they will seek retribution.” Penny smirked for a second then looked away and grabbed a long piece of grass that she began to tear into thin strips.
“Come on, Penny.” Lydia turned to her sister-in-law and braced her fists on her hips. “You don’t believe in all that old folklore stuff, do you?”
Penny shrugged. “Don’t forget, I was born and raised here. We Cornish folk hold great stock in the old myths and legends.”
“Yes, but you don’t believe that people wandered into the cave never to be seen again, do you?”
Penny threw aside what remained of the blade of grass she had obliterated and looked Lydia in the eye. “When I was a child, a woman from the village came here and she was never seen again.”
“What? Did she just vanish into thin air?” Lydia turned away and looked back at the water as it cascaded over the rocks high above them into the pool. The haze and mist caught the summer sunlight that filtered in through the boughs of the huge oak trees that enclosed the pool where the rock face fell away. Small rainbows burst forth from the mist. It was clear why local folklore had created a legend about this place. There was something ethereal about it, as though it did not belong in this world.
“The authorities claimed she committed suicide, but her body was never found.”
“We live in London, Penny. People can disappear if they don’t wish to be found.”
“That is true, but this is Brookleigh, not London.”
“She probably decided to get away from it all and make a fresh start.” A familiar pang pulled at Lydia’s heart. “God knows, I’ve thought about doing the same.”
“Lydia.”
She ignored the note of concern in Penny’s voice and closed her eyes. The weariness that had become her constant companion settled on her shoulders once more. She was adept at pushing it down for a certain amount of time, but there was always something that would trigger it’s release once again.
“Lydia.” Penny was right behind her now. “Perhaps you should do just that. I hate to see you like this. It has been nearly a year now, and you are still behaving as though Mark died only yesterday.”
Lydia swung around to face Penny. “That’s not true. I’m back at work now. At least I’m not moping around the house feeling sorry for myself. That’s progress in my book.”
Penny sighed and reached out to place her hands on Lydia’s shoulders. “You are a ghost of who you once were. You go through the motions of your life, but you are not really living.”
Lydia looked to the ground. The truth in Penny’s words sliced across her chest like a knife. She could not find the words to argue back, because there were none. Her husband’s death was the latest in a long line of loss with which she had to contend. A part of her had died with him. Nothing she did filled the empty chasm that seemed to grow, rather than fade, with time.
“I know how you feel, Lydia.”
She nodded. “How did you do it, Penny? How did you find the strength to start again without him?”
“You know I also struggled after my fiancé was killed. All I can say is that I needed to leave everything I knew behind and start afresh. Look where I am now. I have James and the children. I never thought it was be possible to be happy again, but I am. Do you think Mark would wish you to mourn him for the rest of your life?”
Lydia inhaled deeply. The clean Cornish air, so unlike the polluted air of London, filled her lungs. She released it on a shaky breath and shook her head. “I do not know if I can, Penny. Everything feels so hard: I force my eyes open in the morning; drag myself into work; sit alone and stare into space on an evening. I lie awake for hours in that huge bed he insisted we buy, then it all begins again.”
Penny tugged her forwards and embraced her.
A rush of warmth and comfort seemed into her tired bones. It took the edge off her aching heart, but nothing, it seemed, could eradicate her pain.
“Let me help you. We planned this weekend just for us. Let it be the start of something new for you. Mark will always be a part of you, but you cannot allow his death to dictate the rest of your life. Twenty-two is too young to consign yourself to the life of the lonely widow.”
“I know. I want to try.”
Penny released her and smiled. “Good. Let’s make a start by going back to the hotel for a massage and some cocktails.”
***
Brookleigh House rose before them as Lydia and Penny reached the edge of the woods. They strolled along the dry, packed-down, earth of the well-worn path in companionable silence. The small gate came into view in the limestone wall that surrounded the cottage garden on the south side of the house. Penny pushed down the old latch and opened the gate into the garden. She waved Lydia in before her.
Her legs brushed against the lavender that lined the gravel path. The familiar scent of the purple blossoms tickled her nose. “I love the smell of lavender.”
Penny smiled as she led the way back through the garden towards a rear door of the hotel. The gravel of the path crunched beneath their feet.
It had been Penny’s idea for them to have a girl’s weekend away at the spa hotel. This was Penny’s home town. She seemed to know her way around the hotel like the back of her hand. Lydia followed in her wake.
Cocktails would be just the thing to help her relax. Penny was right. It was almost the first anniversary of Mark’s death and she was still grieving as though he had died only yesterday. Her husband’s death clung to her. She did not seem capable of breaking through the grief that shrouded her like an endless fog.
Death maintained a continuous presence in her life. First, her parents when she was twelve, then, Ruth, her foster carer, and now her husband. Everyone she held dear had been snatched away from her. Penny, Mark’s brother, James, and their two children were her only family now. How could she leave them to start a new life? She understood that Penny meant well by her suggestion that she leave. Yes, it was hard to see James when he was the spitting image of his younger brother, but he, and his children were all she had left of Mark.
They approached the reception desk of the hotel. It sat in the middle of the round hall beneath the rotunda at the centre of the once stately home. The massive staircase curved along the walls and circled to the upper floors. A huge chandelier hung from the centre of the domed roof. The brochure said it was the original chandelier from when the house had been built in the 1700s. Now it was lit by electricity, rather than candles.
Lydia glanced up and continued to be amazed by the shimmering crystal droplets. It must have been beautiful to see them shimmering in the flickering candlelight rather than the bright glare of the bulbs in the staircase and hall.
“Ow!” Lydia howled as she crashed into the back of Penny who appeared to have stopped in the middle of the hallway. The back of Penny’s skull must be made of rock. Her hand automatically cupped her chin and rubbed her aching jaw.
Penny reached up and rubbed the back of her head as she turned to face Lydia and grimaced. “Sorry. It just occurred to me that I left my backpack by the brook.”
Lydia groaned. It was a fifteen-minute walk back to the brook and her feet were aching following a whole afternoon of traipsing around the Cornish countryside.
“We left our key with reception, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”
Penny shook her head. “I put both our purses and mobile phones in there.”
“Fine.” She turned to head back the way they came. “Let’s go. Our massage and cocktails will have to wait.”
“Lydia!” Penny’s voice echoed in the cavernous hall.
She turned to find Penny bouncing around on the balls of her feet.
“Do you mind setting off without me. I just really need to …erm… you know.”
She held back a chuckle at Penny’s quirky inability to openly use the words for certain bodily functions. Penny really was old fashioned at times.
Lydia turned away. “Fine. Catch me up after you’ve finished in the bathroom.”
How long did it take to have a wee? Penny was still nowhere to be found by the time she reached the waterfall. She looked down into the small clearing where they had sat only thirty minutes before. Penny’s grey backpack was still nestled amid the tall blades of grass on the banked sides of the pool.
With measured steps, Lydia descended the sloping, mud path into the glade. When she reached the rocky terrain that surrounded the pool, a shiver ran down her spine. There was no sound but that of the water as it pounded the rocks at it’s base. What had happened to the bird song that had filtered down from the boughs of the treetops earlier?
Lydia shook off the unsettling feeling that slithered down her spine and headed towards the backpack.
As she hoisted it onto her shoulders, a cry echoed from behind the waterfall.
She jerked towards the falls and squinted her eyes as she tried to see into the darkness of the cave beyond.
With a shrug, she began to make her way back to the path when the soft whimper of a child rang out again. There could be no mistake this time. It came from the cave behind the falls. Was a child trapped there?
Lydia swallowed the lump in her throat. She was trained in first aid. She could not ignore someone if they were injured, especially a child.
The next whimper of distress sent her bounding across the glade and into the pool towards the falls. The unseasonably ice-cold water soaked through her trainers. She stepped over boulders without fear, determined to reach the injured child in the cave. The water pounded her face and shoulders as she stepped through it and into the darkness beyond. Her eyes strained to see in the inky blackness.
There was no one here.
Her stomach roiled and her ears rang. A tingle ran from the tips of her fingers to her shoulders. Within seconds, her legs gave way as the buzzing in her ears became unbearable. Her knees hit the hard rock and a sharp pain shot up her thighs.
Unable to keep her eyes open, the darkness of
the cave consumed her.
I have enjoyed this piece of writing hope to read the rest when it’s done