by RJ Hunter
THE COMPLETE TRILOGY
COMPENDIUM OF THE HEART, An epic love story.
By RJ Hunter
Includes;
BOOK 1. COMPENDIUM OF THE HEART
BOOK 2. COMPENDIUM OF THE SOUL
BOOK 3. COMPENDIUM OF THE LOVED
Copyright © RJ Hunter 2015
All rights reserved. the moral right of the author has been asserted.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, media, incidents and brands are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
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ISBN: 1507680902
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book is dedicated to the memory of my mother, Gabriel Rose Culley, my father, Albert Charles McKinlay Hunter, my sister, Janet Carol Miller, and my brother, Geoffrey James Hunter who were all tragically taken before their time.
I would like to thank Julia, for her expertise on nursing, and for her research, especially in books two and three. Thanks to Alex for his technical knowledge, to Matt for his artistry, to Ben for his advice on the usage of the English language, to Ollie for being quiet.
And lastly, thanks to you, the reader for taking the time out of your lives to read my book. I hope you enjoy it, as much as I enjoyed writing it.
CONTENTS
BOOK 1
PROLOGUE
1. THE POOL
2. FALCONDALE
3. THE SOCIAL CLUB
4. GLOUCESTER
5. THE DINNER DATE
6. THE CHRISTMAS DANCE
7. THE STORM
8. ORCHARD LANE
9. THE REUNION
10. THE LAKE
BOOK 2
11. PAULINE AND FRANK
12. MAYFAIR
13. THREE KINGS
14. SCARLET'S
15. LAURA
16. NICK
17. THE VOYEUR
18. THE DOUBLE DATE
19. TINA
20. THE BLACK LION
21. ST. MARY ABBOT'S
22. THE VISIT
23. THE SINGING BAMBOO
24. GREENFIELDS
BOOK 3
25. LETTERS
26. LINCOLN GREENE
27. THE PARTY
28. REVELATIONS
29. RETRIBUTION
30. SUMMER INTERLUDE
31. THE STORKS
32. MARK
33. WALES
COMPENDIUM OF THE HEART
An epic love story
PROLOGUE
Please excuse this unusual approach, and allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lizzie Marchmont, and I’m one of the characters in this book. In fact, I would go further than that and say, I’m one of the main characters, but some would say differently.
Can I ask you a few of questions? Do you think you could ever venture off the straight and narrow, and live on the wild side? Do you think you are so steady and predictable, that nothing you do will ever shock, or go against the grain? Could you get married, and live contentedly, knowing you were still in love with somebody else? Let me try another one, do you think you could re-kindle a relationship with a person, who you grew to fear and detest, over twenty years earlier? Odd questions, don’t you think, and questions that I’ve pondered over for many years now. But maybe, we'll have some answers by the end of this book.
The story, incidentally, is in three parts and starts in the early 1960s. It then goes through to bring us up to the 80s. I think it'll be one of the most powerful and disturbing, love stories you'll ever read, and certainly one you wont forget.
I’ve heard it said that some people can change quite dramatically from bad to good and vice versa, if they have a mind to. Personally, I say once bad, always bad. But then, I'm not Sally Peddlescoombe.
During the next few pages you’ll meet me, and get to like me, I hope. I can be shocking at times and rather outspoken - that’s why I’m talking to you now. Basically, I’m a good person. Yes, I’m a true blue conservative and a staunch capitalist, and I like my drink. But who doesn’t enjoy a good tipple if they work hard and deserve it? I do get ratty and I do like to get my own way - but for someone who runs their own business, I see this more as an asset rather than a fault. I also have a heart of gold, and I’m rather a good person to have around when the going gets tough. Sally would tell you, after all, it’s her who this story is really about, Sally is my best friend. I met her many years ago at university, and I love her like she was my own sister. We all have one really good friend, someone who we’d willingly lay down our lives for. Well, it’s like that with Sally and myself.
You are about to read her story, but it isn't all hearts and flowers. Life has a habit of throwing up the unexpected, and kicking us in the teeth when we are down. But it's how you react that marks you out as a person. Do you just lie there and take it, without so much as a whimper, or do you pick yourself up, rise to the challenge, and stare defiantly into the face of adversity?
Well, Sally did just that, and it almost cost her, not only her sanity, but everything she had ever cherished, and cared about, including her life. I know, because I was there with her, through most of it.
Lizzie Marchmont
1. THE POOL
SPRING, 1983
As Sally stared down below, her breath came in rapid gasps. She felt her heart pumping wildly and struggled to keep her balance. It was all the shouting and screaming that had distracted her and made her nearly fall before she was ready.
Closing her eyes she tried to block out the noise and concentrate on what she was about to do. She inched forward slowly, until she could grasp the edge with her toes. Fear and excitement confused her mind as she hesitated, for what seemed like an eternity. No, she couldn’t back out, not now. She opened her eyes and inhaled sharply, as finally she let go and launched herself out into the void that accepted her so unconditionally. It all felt strangely surreal, and for a few moments she could no longer hear the noise from below, only the sound of the wind rushing past her ears, as her lithe body cut through the air like a knife.
The water was a lot colder than she had anticipated, but it had been worth it. A wonderful sense of achievement came over her as she rose to the surface and saw several onlookers gazing with admiration.
It had been a beautiful dive, and one that she used to perform like it was second nature during her schooldays. Now, it seemed as if diving from such a height had proved something, like it were some kind of yardstick measuring just far she had come these last couple of years.
With slow, graceful movements, Sally glided effortlessly through the water. She reached the end of the pool, turned, and with a powerful thrust of her elegant long legs, catapulted herself off the side to complete her quota of lengths. She had always been a proficient swimmer, and was glad she had finally got back into the habit of keeping herself in trim, especially after such a long lay-off.
It was a mild day and the pool was unusually busy, probably due to the welcome appearance of the long-awaited spring sunshine. There was a young mother with two small and very noisy children, a boy having
a swimming lesson, an extremely hirsute man practising his front crawl, and a group of teenagers, preening, posing and doing dive bombs into the water, much to the annoyance of the lifeguards. However, Sally had decided to make the most of it. She preferred the breaststroke to the crawl, thinking it better for toning her bust and shoulders. Besides, by cheating and keeping her head above the surface, she could avoid swallowing vile gulps of chlorinated water, and also prevent the unsightly red eye syndrome that could draw so many distasteful assumptions.
Sally Peddlescoombe had been a member of the Powertone Health and Fitness Club since it had first opened, and had been one of its most regular members. In the early days she would work out on the multi-gym three times a week, and practice aerobics along with her swimming routine. Life for Sally seemed so full and enjoyable, with everything happening at such a fast pace. She had all she could possibly need and never doubted for a moment that it could ever change.
By gradually building up her fitness regime, Sally was now starting to reap its benefits, what with her revitalised energy, a few pounds of weight lost and the welcome return of her confidence, she was now feeling good again. It was time to pick up the threads of her life once more, and look positively towards a brand new future.
Glancing up at the clock, as she finished another length, Sally realised the time - she was due to meet Lizzie at one.
She swam towards the shallow end and climbed out of the pool with athletic ease and made her way to the changing rooms. There were other women there, whom Sally had seen on numerous occasions, she would smile and greet them but she never went further than the usual pleasantries. Removing her one-piece swimming costume, and stepping into the hot shower, she glanced at some of the other women’s bodies and couldn’t help comparing them to her own. Although she had no reason to be ashamed of her figure, Sally was very conscious of her appearance.
Throughout her thirty nine years, she had denied herself luxuries few women could resist, in order to maintain the size ten she had kept since her teenage years. In fact, Sally’s age often came as a surprise to many. Despite being the mother of two daughters and a son, she was always being mistaken for someone much younger.
Now however, this might not be the case. The loss of her husband, William - killed in a car accident at the age of forty one, two years earlier, had taken a heavy toll on Sally. There had been times when the grief all became too much for her, and she had felt like simply ending it all. But something deep down within her soul would always rise up and push her forward into another day. Sally’s grief would often just lie dormant, waiting for an opportunity. Then a trigger, perhaps something completely innocent and mundane - like receiving junk mail addressed to him, or coming across an item that had been locked away, such as the tie-pin he had worn to graduation. All this would block out any rational thought, and reduce her to a sobbing wreck of despair.
At first, Sally had worried how the children; twenty-year old Jonathan, Laura, 19, and fifteen year-old Penny would ever get over it. But in reality, it had hit their mother much harder.
Sally had met William while they were at university. She immediately fell for his often-silly sense of humour and warm charm that always seemed so natural. He had a certain spontaneity about him, which excited her, as she would never quite know just what he was going to do next. She knew William would do well, just by listening to his words. Words that would hold her in a trance-like state, especially when he told her of his ambitious plans for their future.
In the years before his death, William had strived unselfishly to provide the best for his beloved family. The Peddlescoombes lived in a beautiful, five-bedroom, detached house near to the Thames at Twickenham, in Middlesex. The house was mock Tudor and was set back in a quiet, leafy cul-de-sac. The children had loved the vast, secluded garden, where they used to play hide and seek in their own little private forest, or climb the many trees bordering the perimeter. It was a haven for them, where there was always something exciting to do. William had even built a tree house, made from planks of brightly-painted wood. It was very sturdy and had its own little front door, windows and a sloping roof. The children would pull up the ladder when they were safe inside and pretend to hide from wild animals, or be castaways on a desert island. Once, Jonathan was showing off and fell to the ground, breaking his arm. Laura and Penny laughed believing he was being silly as usual. But they cried for hours thinking how beastly they had been when it was discovered that poor Jonathan really had hurt himself, and his mother had to take him to hospital.
The children and their friends would have their own sports day, with sack races and slow bicycle-riding competitions on the lawn. Sally would busy herself providing rounds of sandwiches and orange squash in plastic beakers for the thirsty participants. During the autumn they would collect conkers together and have epic battles in the conservatory. Usually this would end in tears, with one of them having to retire early due to bruised knuckles.
“You must try to win and not give up so easily,” William would tell his children when they grew frustrated or got hurt and didn’t want to play again.
Lizzie had already taken control of the café at the Powertone, and was sat, calmly waiting in typical Lizzie style. She was surrounded by expensive-looking carrier bags from her earlier shopping trip, and was defiantly smoking a foreign cigarette to the disgust of the tracksuit-clad staff. Like William, Sally had also known Lizzie from her student days back in the sixties. It was Lizzie whom Sally had turned to immediately after William’s death. Lizzie helped pick up the remnants of her broken friend, and like someone who was repairing a much-loved, fragile vase, she had slowly helped Sally try to fit the pieces of her shattered life back together again. At times Lizzie had felt utterly drained, as she had suddenly become the supporting pillar to not only her best friend, but the rest of the family too. Sally would put on a brave front for the children and help them through a grief they didn’t understand. But who was left for Sally and her fierce pride that prevented her from even thinking of asking for help. Lizzie just automatically took the role upon herself, and carried on because she loved both Sally and William with all of her heart, and had shed many a tear herself.
To Lizzie, the Peddlescoombe’s represented all that was good and right about life. Deep down she knew, that had the tragedy happened to her, she would have acted exactly the same, because that was the way they had both been brought up.
“Sally, Sally, over here!”
Sally smiled as she heard the familiar, confident voice, and walked over to join her friend.
“You look absolutely divine darling as always,” beamed Lizzie, summoning a waitress. Sally wasn’t sure if Lizzie was being her usual catty self, since she had only just daubed on her make-up in the changing rooms, and was dressed simply in jeans and T-shirt.
“Thank-you Lizzie, sorry I’m late,” replied Sally as she gave her friend a hug and a peck on the cheek.
“I’ll have another glass of dry white wine, and make sure its cold this time!” Said Lizzie brusquely to the unsmiling waitress. “They don’t even have Chablis in here!” She continued, glaring at the surroundings critically.
Sally ignored Lizzie’s remarks and ordered a coffee. An alcoholic drink was the last thing she felt like after her long swim.
“Sally, I’m not being sarcastic but you really do look wonderful. I’m glad you’ve reverted back to your natural blonde look, it so suits your lovely blue eyes. Perhaps, I should take up this keep-fit nonsense myself,” said Lizzie, lighting up another cigarette. “I’m glad to see you’re finally putting some weight back on as well, although, I don’t think either of us need worry about our hips in here!”
“Lizzie, you’re starting to sound like an old hag!” Replied Sally jokingly. “But thanks for the compliment, I’ve put on almost a stone since the last time I saw you.” Sally looked serious and reached out to Lizzie’s hand. “I know you’re worried about me, but really, I’m fine now. I’ve reached the end of a long, dark tunnel. I
can’t spend the rest of my life moping around feeling sorry for myself. Its taken a long time, but I do think I’m over the worst now. I’m getting fit again, and I’ve also gone absolutely mad and treated myself to a new summer wardrobe - the girls will be so jealous!”
“Sally, you know me, I can’t help worrying about you,” said Lizzie, squeezing her friend’s hand. “I’m sorry, I know I can be such a nag at times, but, I've noticed a real difference in you. The sparkle has returned to your eyes, and yes, you’re certainly starting to look like the Sally of old. I’m so glad, but I knew you would get through it, given time.”
There followed a brief moment of silence as the aroma of aftershave lotion wafted across the table. Its sickly, sweetish smell permeated the air all around them, and they both instinctively clutched their noses like mischievous schoolgirls. However, they couldn’t resist peering around at the other customers to see who had the nerve to wear such an effrontery to the senses. Hearing a chair scrape the ground, they looked over to see a large, shaven-headed man wearing sunglasses, and dressed immaculately in a navy double-breasted suit. He had a jagged scar running down the left side of his face, and sat down at a nearby table, ordering a cold beer.