by Dan Proops
Adam spat at the window, and watched as the spittle ran down, distorting his features, reflected in the glass; and he wished he had less time before Walker came because the waiting was impossible, and the love for his sister was strong in him, and he didn’t want to hear the detective’s news, didn’t want to hear anything. Hope, like candlelight, flickered for a moment and was lost to the solemn tones of Walker’s voice. He turned from the window and Eva had been watching him, and he saw a tear fall down her cheek, so he went to her and they sat in silence for some moments, and then he told her not to cry. Time turned into a rushing force with Walker behind it: Adam imagined him in his grey suit, parking his car in a road on the estate, saw him buttoning his jacket and the sadness on his face as he stepped into the metal lift.
Eva kissed his cheek and put her hand on his shoulder. He pushed her away, then turned from her.
‘Leave me alone.’
‘I love you, Adam. What did he say?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it. He’ll be here in an hour or less.’
‘I’ll always be here for you, my darling.’
Eva curled up on the bed and Adam slumped next to her. And then more memories came to him: the excitement of Sarah’s first few letters, and the happiness they’d brought him. He thought of the trips to New York and the meeting with Harold when he told him he’d seen her, and his futile trips to the bars and parks of Brooklyn. She’d been alive for a year, with a depressed son and a beautiful daughter. And now this. Adam’s head lowered, and his breathing became short. He felt Eva’s arm warm, around his back, and then he said:
‘Let’s have coffee. I’m worried. I don’t want to see him.’
‘Don’t jump to conclusions. Wait till he’s here.
‘I’ve got no choice, have I?’
At ten past four, the bell rang and Adam heard Walker’s voice. In a minute he’d be there; in a minute he’d know. He leant his back against the wall, his shoulders hunched, his eyes lowered to the floor. And thoughts surfaced: please don’t let him come with something bad; please don’t let him hurt me. Eva took hold of his hand, and then there was a knock on the door. Walker was wearing one of his grey suits and looked the same, just a little older. Adam asked if he wanted a drink.
‘No thanks, Adam. Not now.’
‘What’s happened? Why are you here?’
‘She’s been found.’
Walker stood by the door, near the window, his back against the wall. A fly was on his collar. ‘The car’s downstairs,’ he said, and his voice was sullen. Eva asked if she could go with Adam, and he declined. She was polite and had kind words for Walker. And then the ex-detective said they should be going. Adam kissed Eva on the forehead, and she said how much she loved him. He returned the sentiment, then looked at her.
‘Please be here when I get back. Please wait for me.’
‘I’ll be here. I’ll always be here for you, Adam.’
He turned from her and followed the man in grey down to his car. During the journey Walker made attempts at conversation, and Adam nodded and smiled at appropriate moments; he caught a glimpse of Walker’s profile. He’d wound down the window and his sleeve was caught in the wind. Adam felt a light breeze on the side of his face. The Earl’s Court road was heavy with traffic.
‘Damn, took the wrong route. Shoulda gone the other way. Sorry, Adam.’
‘It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.’
‘Looks like you’ve got a nice girlfriend.’
‘Yes.’
‘Hot night, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Karl, it is.’
The car was stuck for half an hour, and the familiar pain formed in the back of Adam’s neck. It was sharp as a needle. And he wished Walker would stop with his questions on minor topics, on the minutiae of life. It was warm in the car. Karl apologised again for taking the wrong road, and Adam didn’t want conversation or apologies or to be in that car with the man in the grey suit who was being kind. He knew where they were going, though the destination hadn’t been mentioned. They’d left the Earl’s Court road and were on a side street, and Walker was holding the steering wheel with one hand, his fingers tapping the leather. They arrived at a junction, and Adam was trying to keep her from his mind because she’d been a part of his life for months; she’d been alive. She’d opened up her world for him.
The car swerved into a cobbled street that led into an alleyway, then onto a busy road. And then they arrived. Adam opened the door of the car and followed Walker into the building, and he smelt ether as he was led down a corridor with grey polished floors. Karl showed him into the room. Strip lights produced a bright light and the floor was tiled, as were the walls. A body was on a gurney covered with a grey sheet. Karl wiped sweat from his brow, then said:
‘This may be hard for you. We wanted to talk to you about this.’
Walker drew the sheet away to reveal a skeletal hand. Upon it was a bracelet that caught the light; it was made of gold with an inscription: Adam and Sarah Forever.
Acknowledgements
I’m very grateful for my good friend John Hinds’ encouragement with my writing over the past few years, and his kind comments regarding A Letter From Sarah. He’s an experienced and very talented writer and has a long career, working for many newspapers.
Many thanks to media celebrity Rick Sky for his endorsement of this book and his encouragement when it came to my writing.
And I’m grateful for Justine Solomons for her continued support with my writing. She runs a great publishing networking organisation, introducing authors to agents and publishers. Her company is Byte The Book.
I’d like to thank my close friend, intellectual and bibliophile, Robert Joseph, who’s been a wonderful beta reader; he has supported my writing from the outset. And he’s given me outstanding editorial feedback with all my written work.
Also thanks to my friend Paddy Moffatt, an incredibly talented painter, who’s been a fan of my writing over the years, and has given me support on A Letter From Sarah.
I’m grateful to all the members of the Morley Writing class for their friendship and encouragement. And a special thanks to Henry Bewley for his astute ideas and feedback regarding my prose.
Many thanks to award winning writer Mike Walker who runs the class. He’s a valued mentor; and a big thanks for his endorsement of this book and his remarkable talent as a teacher.
And many thanks to my agent Tom Cull for his insights into Sarah and the great feedback from his editor, David Baclaski.
Thanks to my mother, Olivia, for her input when it came to choosing the title for this book.
And finally a big thanks to Urbane Publications for working closely with me on the novel, their expert feedback and the professionalism of the book production. A special mention for designer Michelle Morgan who has produced such a beautiful front cover.
Dan Proops has been a full time writer for six years and has completed four novels and a memoir. Previous to this he was a professional artist, organising a one man show at the age of fourteen. He has had many exhibitions over a long career and his artwork was purchased by internationally acclaimed art dealer, Eric Franck. His artwork appeared frequently in the national press and his painting was featured in Image of the Week in the Times. One of his exhibitions was previewed in the Telegraph by columnist Colin Gleadell. Dan is a Twitter influencer and has a following of 22,000; last year 1.2 million people read his tweets, and he currently attends the advanced writing class at Morley College, run by the renowned radio four dramatist Mike Walker. Dan Proops is also the grandson of legendary advice columnist, Marjorie Proops. He lives and works in London.
http://dan-proops.com/ @Dan_Proops
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