I’ve finally started something that people have been telling me I should do. Write a book. I penned a short children’s story a few weeks ago and it got me thinking about doing something else. Something funny, something that women could curl up with a good glass of wine and laugh over, smirk and associate themselves with, something that they could relate to and scream at the paper pages in front of them ‘ this is me!’
So I’ve done it….I am five chapters in so far in my little book. A book about a woman who finds her husband has an affair and the car crash aftermath that follows years of bliss and domesticity. I haven’t thought about getting this published so I will post each of the chapters as I write them here for you my readers. So I invite you to sit back and welcome Laura to your world as I unveil chapter 1 of ‘Kitchen Worktops, Coffee Shops & Relationship Break Ups.’
Chapter 1 – The After Karate Fall Out
She never envisaged it would end like this. Or maybe she never thought it would start this way. Sitting, head in hands in her hideaway coffee shop, small tiny tears fell like rain into her hot, fresh cup of coffee.
Crumpled in her chair, she heard a voice, “Would you like me to change that for a less salted version?” Despite her inner turmoil, red eyes and unattractive streaming nose she looked up. Greeting her was a mass of floppy brown curly hair and the deep blue eyes of Sam her trusty Barista.
She tried to speak but a nonsensical squeak erupted from her mouth. Not to worry, the cup and her coffee angel seemed to be able to interpret squeaks and her glass mug vanished.
Loneliness resumed and the tears continued to flow.
Rewinding somewhat, it makes sense to tell you how Laura found herself in her coffee shop on a wet autumnal Saturday afternoon. If I don’t then none of the next several hundred words will make any sort of sense.
Laura at 35
is – scrap that was – a happily married woman, happily married until 11:24am (not that she’d imprinted this date and time stamp) today. At 11:24am she’d arrived home with her son Nathaniel from their weekly karate class to find her husband of five years cavorting on the beautiful polished concrete worktops in the kitchen with her ex-best friend.
She vaguely remembered the huge row that her and David had over the worktops; he’d called them “over priced and typically nouveau rich and pretentious as well as awful to clean”. Funny making a mess didn’t seem to bother him at this moment as her life was about to take on car crash proportions of chaos.
Thankfully Nathaniel had his head buried in his 3DS and missed the glorious shot of his fathers behind doing an excellent impression of a steam trains pistons, Laura however was not spared this view.
Quite how she manage to remain calm enough to walk Nathaniel to his room, return downstairs and hurl several foam Nerf batons at her now ex-husband she’s not sure. The storm that followed though once she’s phoned her remaining best friend and asked / begged her to come and take Nathaniel for a few hours was less than calm.
She vaguely remembers shouting, lots of it, mainly by her at the two people in the kitchen, who up until 11:24am had meant so much to her.
Then there was door slamming, car engines starting and silence. Empty, calm, lonely silence. He’d gone, they’d gone…together.
She sat crumpled on the stairs for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only 30 minutes. The realisation that he’d actually walked out the house with ‘her’, turning his back on the years of marriage and the family they’d built together as if it was nothing more than another one of his fly by night fancies hit her full force in the pit of her stomach. How could they mean that little to him that they were simply not worth fighting for.
The house made her feel sick. Laura could smell the perfume of her now ex best friend wafting up the stairs, invading her personal space, almost pushing her out the front door and making it obvious she was no longer ‘wanted’ in that space.
She grabbed her coat, her keys to her little Fiat 500 and ran to the front door, down the steps and drove. Drove to the only place she could think of that could offer some form of comfort. Her coffee shop.
Quite why Laura bolted to her ‘workplace’ she wasn’t sure but to her it had always been her second home, ever since 3 years ago she’d followed her dream and opened up her own coffee shop and patisserie in the beautiful suburban sprawl that is Notting Hill. Sandwiched between a luxurious children’s boutique that was always bursting with beautiful mother’s and expensive prams and a yoga studio, ‘Poco Vista’ was the one place she could always count on to be some sense of normality in her crazy, busy world.
Between running a business, dealing with Nathaniel’s ever increasing unruly behaviour and David’s chaotic high flying lifestyle as a hedge fund manager things at Poco Vista were normal, calming and not dramatic.
That was until today when she bought her turbulent world into Poco Vista and things were about to change. Change in a way she never envisaged or imagined. Eventually changing in a way that would be for the better even if it was going to be a long road but between the current floods of tears Laura couldn’t see that right now.