Phil Martin's Blog, page 8
November 15, 2011
Poem: Manchester-On-Sea
Manchester-On-Sea
Manchester's got everything; just two things let it down,We haven't got a beach a point made by Ian Brown,But even if we did have one, few cities are wetter,So here's what I would propose to make Manchester better.Firstly dig The Pennines up; they're blamed for our bad weather,Chop them down, they pop our clouds, and then it won't rain ever,Next let's pop to Liverpool and I say this with a wink,Because legend says the Liverbirds can make their city sink.
So set them free and watch them fly and watch the waters reach,Warrington and Saint Helen's giving Manchester a beach,We could build ourselves a promenade and a Golden mile to boast,And new nightlife would soon spring up on our manufactured coast.
But if we had a beach to bathe and it rarely ever rained,It wouldn't just be our life styles but our attitudes that changed.We'd all wag work so we could take advantage of our beach,We'd lose the swagger from our walks and greatness from our reach.
We'd lose the creativity that makes our city great,And the talented amongst us all would all just go to waste,We'd be too busy basking in the utopia we'd made,We'd be too lazy sunbathing to bother getting paid,
Just like a Spanish stereotype we'd always put things off,Tomorrow's good, today I'm spent, at hard work we would scoff,And if we lost our downpour too, our parks would lose their green,The price of water would go up, as the reservoirs fall lean.
So even though we moan and curse and begrudge our city's weather,I'm still not sure whether beaches would be better altogether,So I'm not sure that we should change dynamics near and far,Let's leave The Pool and hills alone; we're better like we are.
Copyright©2011 by Phil Martin
All rights reserved.
Buy Child Number Three for £2.09http://www.amazon.co.uk/Child-Number-Three-ebook/dp/B005IRNYVM/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321268694&sr=1-2
November 14, 2011
POEM: The Gargoyles of Albert Square
The Gargoyles of Albert Square
Frozen forever in stone for their sins,With contorted features with teeth and with wings,Oversized faces with an upturned nose,Unable to run free, they ferociously pose.
From way up high they sit and they stare,As you make your way through Albert Square,They mock you below, pulling faces in jest,A terrifying creature, a city-scape pest.
They hang off the town hall and cling to its spire,There's rumours that once they used to breathe fire,Like dragons, they're evil; they're bad to the bone,So thank Albert himself that they're cast out of stone.
They're there all night and they're there all day,But few people notice as they go on their way,Clinging to fountains, they spit torrents of water,If you've never noticed them, then really you ought to.
Because watch them close as you pass them daily,Their skin may be coated in stone and not scaly,But notice their stance and their place on the square,Cause the gargoyles move, I've noticed, I swear.
For five minutes only at just gone three,When the moon casts its shadow against the square's tallest tree,When the city is tucked up in bed with its wife,The moonlight beckons the gargoyles to life.
As that ray of moonlight shines down on the fountain,The gargoyles stop spitting the water that they're spouting,And as they spread their tiny wings, the stone cracks off their scales,And life filters through the gargoyles from their snout right to their tails.
They run and they jump and they fight with each other,Breathing fire, not water, you'd have to take cover,If passing through at this time beware,For it's no longer Albert's but the Gargoyles' Square.
They'll chase you down in twos and in threes,Then nibble your fingers and bite at your knees,With a well known palate for late night revellers,Those making the most noise, the lock-in regulars.
Walk through in silence; they're alerted by sound,If singing and shouting, they'll soon track you down,Their eyes don't work well so creep through the city,If you're bellowing loud, they'll show you no pity.
Many a drunkard has frozen with fear,As the gargoyles stalk them, it must be the beer,Don't walk through singing and not on your own,The gargoyles are known to shred skin to the bone.
Run through next time don't give them the chance.To eat whatever you hide in your pants,For nothing is wasted or left on the street,They devour it all from your head to your feet.
If the gargoyles clock you, you've no chance in hell,They'll jump from the walls; you're under their spell,Running is pointless; you won't make it home,They'll singe you with fire then crunch through your bone.
You might see its eyes move; you might see it blink,But run for your life, there's more than you think,They come from all angles, they fly and they swoop,They attack on the floor and the air as they loop.
Only one thing will help to stave off your fright,As they move in the shadows and hate the moonlight,If another ray hits them, it forces them home,As their scales are slowly turned back to stone.
They race to their places and stand statuette,Regardless of who or what they've just ate,So next time you're passing, see if it flinches,Have the gargoyles moved just a matter of inches?
Copyright©2011 by Phil Martin
All rights reserved.
Buy Child Number Three for £2.09http://www.amazon.co.uk/Child-Number-Three-ebook/dp/B005IRNYVM/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321268694&sr=1-2
POEM: The lonely heart of a Mancunian skyscraper
The lonely heart of a Mancunian skyscraper
Standing tall; way up high,Mingling with the Mancunian sky,Proudly striped in green and in white,I like to dominate all in my sight.
Halfway up I'm shrouded in cloud,I feel top heavy; I want to bend down,My pregnant belly juts out from my bar,And my flashing red lights are seen from afar,
My front is made higher with my proud metal crown,But the breeze that blew through me made residents frown,The buzzing, they said, was like aliens had come,But it was only me singing; my whistle, my hum.
I can see for miles when the day is clear,But it's lonely for me as nothing comes near,To matching my height, to look in my eye,My only companion is day and night sky.
My friend City Tower lives a few streets away,But he's half my size and refuses to sway,When gale force winds force me to dance,And move with the breeze like I've ants in my pants.
Tall friends were promised but money was late,The recession bit hard, skyscrapers must wait,But one day I know I'll be joined by some more,Some buildings my height to lessen my bore.
I don't care what they're like in fittings and fixtures,I just long for some friends to join me in pictures,Hotels, apartments or offices too,Just match me in height, stand tall like I do.
Even if one day I'm knocked off my throne,I long for the day when I won't stand alone,Build me some friends to look in my eye,And join me so proudly in Manchester's sky.
Copyright©2011 by Phil Martin
All rights reserved.
Buy Child Number Three for £2.09http://www.amazon.co.uk/Child-Number-Three-ebook/dp/B005IRNYVM/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321268694&sr=1-2
Standing tall; way up high,Mingling with the Mancunian sky,Proudly striped in green and in white,I like to dominate all in my sight.Halfway up I'm shrouded in cloud,I feel top heavy; I want to bend down,My pregnant belly juts out from my bar,And my flashing red lights are seen from afar,
My front is made higher with my proud metal crown,But the breeze that blew through me made residents frown,The buzzing, they said, was like aliens had come,But it was only me singing; my whistle, my hum.
I can see for miles when the day is clear,But it's lonely for me as nothing comes near,To matching my height, to look in my eye,My only companion is day and night sky.
My friend City Tower lives a few streets away,But he's half my size and refuses to sway,When gale force winds force me to dance,And move with the breeze like I've ants in my pants.
Tall friends were promised but money was late,The recession bit hard, skyscrapers must wait,But one day I know I'll be joined by some more,Some buildings my height to lessen my bore.
I don't care what they're like in fittings and fixtures,I just long for some friends to join me in pictures,Hotels, apartments or offices too,Just match me in height, stand tall like I do.
Even if one day I'm knocked off my throne,I long for the day when I won't stand alone,Build me some friends to look in my eye,And join me so proudly in Manchester's sky.
Copyright©2011 by Phil Martin
All rights reserved.
Buy Child Number Three for £2.09http://www.amazon.co.uk/Child-Number-Three-ebook/dp/B005IRNYVM/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321268694&sr=1-2
POEM: Where is Mrs Saxophonist?
Where is Mrs Saxophonist?
For twenty seconds as we pass you by, We're the best of friends, we always say hi,Standing proud outside Kendalls or,sheltering from rain by the Music store.
Whatever the weather you're always there,An icon of the Mancunian night air,Your soulful notes catch on the breeze,As soon as we hear them we remember with ease.
That you're always there come rain or shine,And your pockets we should remember to line,For the music you play always gives us a treat,The Simpsons, Corrie and Baker Street.
We've seen you before but what the heck,We giggle and laugh and dance for a sec,Like a long lost friend from a time gone by,We ask for our favourites, then say goodbye.
Off into our evenings, your notes float away,And once again we've forgotten to pay,All we did... was ask for our songs,You obliged, we danced and then we were gone.
I glance back, more folk are twisting your wrist,But I wonder who are you Mister Saxophonist?Where do you live and where do you go?When you pack up your stuff at the end of your show?
Does someone come for you, do you walk home alone?Does anyone interrupt with a call on your phone?All I see... is you there each week,Playing your saxophone, puffing your cheeks.
But what do you do with the rest of your life?Do you play in a band? Do you have a wife?Do you buy her some flowers on your way home?When you've finished playing your saxophone.
You always look happy, I hope that you are,I hope your music pays for your car,And a house somewhere nice with a beautiful view,But I need to know...what do you do!!
My girls drag me back as I stop and stare,At your happy face and your afro hair,Friday and Saturday you stand on the street,But what do you do with the rest of your week?
I feel ignorant now coz I've known you so long,But all I've done is danced to your song,Another drunkard to dance in the rain,Does anyone even ask you your name?
Next week I'll ask you of that I am sure,The questions build up; you'll think I'm a bore,Please turn up saxy because I need to know,Is there a Mrs Saxophonist who loves you so?
Copyright©2011 by Phil Martin
All rights reserved.
Buy Child Number Three for £2.09http://www.amazon.co.uk/Child-Number-Three-ebook/dp/B005IRNYVM/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321268694&sr=1-2
BOOK: Child Number Three- chapter 1
Synopsis
Snatched, rescued and brought up in a loving environment, Amy Walker embarks on a journey of self-discovery taking her deep into a disturbing Chechen gang in London's underworld.
Having graduated from Medical school, Amy Walker turns her attention to another lifelong ambition; finding out more about her blood parents. Her foster father has died, her foster mother is old and all she has are two faceless names on her birth certificate.
Amy grew up believing she was orphaned in a coach crash in Tuscany. Her initial research tells her two things; she was never on that coach and she isn't related to the names on her birth certificate.
Having exposed lie after lie told by her foster parents, Amy confronts first an evasive adoption agency and then her mother with fatal consequences. The subsequent discovery of a gun hidden in her father's desk, along with a newspaper article confirming his lies, a mysterious list of names and a passport stamp confirming his location at the time of the crash, all convince Amy she should stop at nothing to find out her truth. But she is attacked in the night and her parent's home is ransacked. Every detail she has discovered is taken from her, everything except an address and a foreign name left by her father in invisible ink. With nothing and no one left in her manufactured world, Amy sets off on her mission of self discovery to unearth exactly what her foster father kept buried from the world.
After journeying from her Manchester home to the shanty towns and palaces of Morocco and the home of an erratic, elusive socialite, she is told she was 'taken' but saved for a reason. More untruths lead her back to London and a dark Chechen underworld that her adopted parents' suburban existence could never have been a part of. As sinister characters emerge, including ex members of the SAS, exiled Chechen warlords and an impenetrable Eastern European gang, murder follows murder and with each linked to Amy Walker, she herself becomes a suspect; a vigilante exacting her own revenge. But every gang has its weak point.
As Amy gets closer to unearthing her truth, discovering she was the third on a sinister, coded list of stolen-to-order children spanning two decades, she disturbs it, alerting it to her very existence. Just as the focus turns to who Amy Walker really is, she learns her whole quest has been about so much more than just her. The gang is still in operation and planning to strike again, this time in Barcelona. As she gets closer to the person who took her, the person who holds all her secrets, she realises her truth will do anything to stay hidden. The assassins are sent in yet she must stop the snatch.
Child Number Three must be silenced.Little girl lost must never be found.
Prologue Even through the haze of her sleeping pill, Amy Walker knew exactly why the police had come calling. She kicked off her tangled duvet and sighed heavily as the all-consuming nightmare engulfed her again. The last few weeks had savaged her life; the holiday had done nothing to refresh her. If anything it had just cast further doubt on every aspect of her life. "Amy, you need to get down here, it's the police," Joanna shouted again. Amy glanced in the mirror, not to admire her holiday tan or run a brush through her tangled, dark hair, but to look at the lesion on her bottom lip. It stared back, throbbing in time with her heartbeat. She knew it was about her test results. Her GP had said they'd investigate. It looked for all the world like a cold sore, yet Amy had never had one in her whole life. Grabbing her dressing gown as her only necessity, she flung open her bedroom door. "Amy, it's the fucking police." Joanna stood startled blocking her way. "I know Jo, I heard you." Amy prayed it had nothing to do with Morocco but deep down she knew. The man's death had nothing to with her though; the police had said it was a freak accident when they'd cleared her to come home. Amy strode past Joanna to see two plain clothed officers waiting at the bottom of the stairs with her other bewildered housemate; Carolyn. "Miss Walker," the male officer greeted as Amy walked down the stairs. "My name's DC Foulkes. We were hoping you could spare some time to assist us in an investigation." "Are you arresting me for something?" Amy greeted, only half joking. "Not at all but you might prefer this to be discussed in private.""Actually I kind of know why you're here," Amy said wincing apprehensively. "But I've not told my housemates yet maybe I should..."She glanced at the concerned faces in front of her. "I've not done anything wrong. It's about the test results isn't it?"The nods from both detectives were weighted with concern. "So the results have come back?" Carolyn asked. "It's herpes isn't it; a cold sore?"Amy shrugged painfully. "They're not sure what it is, Caz. My doctor said it's an infection but it falls into a pretty unique category and doesn't actually have a medical name."As Amy paused, the female detective took over. "I'm DC Mills," she said shaking Amy's hand. "Girls, am I right in thinking that you've all recently qualified as doctors?" "Yeah, only three weeks ago," Carolyn replied. "But what's that got to do with anything?""Well, there's no easy way of asking this but have you come into contact with many dead bodies during your course?" "Occasionally," Carolyn replied belligerently. "We try not to but unfortunately it does kind of come with the territory. " "And have you all been working in the morgues at all recently?" Mills asked. "It's just that you all might need to come in for test too. " Carolyn's eyes widened at the scope of the questioning. "What?" she questioned. "I've been down to the morgues, we all have, but we've only just qualified. We're taking six months off before we start working in A&E properly. Look, we've just got back from a holiday, what the hell's going on?"The mention of the holiday resonated with Amy but she couldn't force her own theory from her lips; not yet. The male officer took over the reins again; more assertive this time. "We're investigating a potential outbreak at the hospital. Amy's infection is unusual, not at all life threatening but very unusual. It displays certain characteristics. There's no easy way of explaining this. I'm afraid it's shown up bacteria consistent with that found on decomposing bodies, the recently deceased... if you will. " The full absurdity of the suggestion slowly dawned on Amy's housemates. Amy slumped down to sit on the stairs but stayed quiet to let their own realisation hit home. "That's ridiculous," Carolyn suddenly snapped. "The lesion's on her lip. What exactly are you suggesting? That Amy's been kissing dead people in the morgue?""That's not what we're suggesting at all," the female officer assured. "But her GP has raised the topic of necrophilia as a potential line of inquiry."The word alone threw a veiled silence over the hallway.Amy paused for a second to review her possibilities, glancing again at the anxiety etched into her housemates' faces but she knew, she'd made the connection. "Look," she began tentatively, "it might not be the morgues at all. Something happened on holiday. " Every face in the hallway turned her way. Amy looked at her feet and then again at her friends for support. "In Morocco," she continued, "a local man tried to kiss me. I met him for a meal and he got me drunk then he threw himself at me. There was a struggle and I pushed him off but I remember him slobbering all over me as I fought him off. He bit my lip as he tried to kiss me but I got away, he chased me but I got away. When the infection started, I thought it was a cold sore. We all thought the same.""Are you saying someone tried to abduct you?" the female detective asked. "I think she'd remember that," Joanne interrupted. "I'm not sure, maybe," Amy answered as a tear welled heavily in her eye. "He seemed pretty keen on getting me back to his place but everything's hazy. I wasn't sure if he drugged me." "You're not sure if he drugged you?" Foulkes quizzed. "Well he hardly advertised the fact," Amy snapped back. An uneasy silence shrouded the hallway again, this time left to the female officer to break. "And did you report this?""No," Amy said cagily. "We just wanted to come home and forget about it. I've had so much going on recently and couldn't deal with it and I've not been thinking straight. I just accepted I'd somehow caught a cold sore virus...from him""We cut our holiday short because of what happened," Carolyn piped up as an offer of support. "Jesus, do you think it could be related? Oh my God, do you think it could be him kissing dead people? Do you think he's infected you?"The girls looked at each other as the colour drained from Amy's cheeks. "Well, whatever's happened, it sounds like you've had a very lucky escape," Mills offered in support. "From what?" Joanna questioned unable to take the suggestion on board. "Are you saying Amy was kissed by some crazed, serial killer, someone who keeps his victims' bodies afterwards?" "All we're saying is this bacteria is very, very peculiar. But it does sounds like you could have been next on his list. Amy, we're going to need you to make a statement about this... " The detective's words were wasted. Amy's mind was elsewhere, floating away in a cloud of confusion. Instinct told her the encounter was threatening; there was no doubt the man was creepy but next on the hit list of some sexual deviant? Her world slowly collapsed inwards as the shock and adrenalin nullified her defences but deep down she already knew. The next piece in a terrifying jigsaw had just slotted into place but the puzzle was more horrifying than anyone could have imagined; a lot more horrifying. She kept the thought to herself but if Amy was right, she hadn't just been next on his list; she'd been the first, over two decades ago.
Part I
Broken Branches (three weeks earlier)
1.It was a perfect life moment, one to be framed and forever kept on a mantelpiece. Amy joined her friends in throwing their graduation hats high into the air. Six years of medical school and a job for life was well worth celebrating but something still nagged deep inside her. The flash photography from the line of excited parents blinded her slightly as the mortar boards thudded to the floor. It was impossible not to smile. The smell of freshly cut grass flooded her nostrils. Even the Mancunian skies were a perfect blue. She watched as her friends' parents rushed onto the lawn in front of the graduation hall and handed back champagne flutes to the new doctors in their families. "Charlie would have been so proud of you." Amy nodded as she adjusted her long brunette hair and replaced her mortar board. "I know, I just wish he could be here," she said as she hugged her mother. She could never describe Jenny as just her foster mother. "Don't you worry about Charlie," Jenny said squeezing the hug back into Amy. "He'll be looking down on you right now and he'll be as proud of you as I am. He'll be watching out for you on every step of your six months travelling." As they hugged a tear ran down Amy's cheek. She couldn't help but wonder if her birth parents were looking down on her too and indeed if they were proud of her. It was a guilty thought that she banished immediately. "Thanks mum," Amy said. It was all down to her dad that she was even graduating that day. He'd instilled something in her from an early age, a desire to solve riddles, and in her eyes, the human body was the most miraculous riddle Amy had ever seen. The lawn behind the main university building had emptied during their embrace. Amy helped support her mum's arm whilst Jenny used her walking stick to strengthen her small, steady steps from her other side. It was on days like this, days when Amy could see the similarities between her friends and their parents that her own origins weighed heavily on her mind. She wondered whether she looked like her birth mother, whether she too had had olive skin and long dark hair. It was a fleeting thought but it still nagged at her in the background. All the information she had about her ancestry was written on her birth certificate; two faceless names and a birth date; no possessions, no photos and no other blood relative. She'd been far too young to understand the accident or remember anything about her parents. Any lingering heartache had been balanced out by the love she'd been immersed in but somewhere deep inside something still gnawed away. She edged into the queue for wine behind her best friend from school, college and university. Carolyn had always been there. She was busy smiling at one of the boys from their course. "Why don't you just take the plunge and ask him out?" Amy said banishing her own thoughts to the back of her mind. "I was thinking more about you asking him out," Carolyn said turning the screw back on her friend who immediately shook her head in disapproval. "Oh come on Aims, I've known you all your life and you've barely been near a boy. You can't use your 'devotion to your course' as an excuse anymore. I'm going to start calling you the fridge you're so cold with the opposite sex." "I'm not cold just cautious," Amy corrected. "Whatever, has that money cleared yet from your dad's will?" Carolyn asked avoiding the relationship dirt path the two had trodden so many times before. Amy shook her head. Charlie had passed away three months ago but still the solicitor hadn't released the money he'd left behind. "Well let me book it then," Carolyn offered. "I've still got some of my student loan left. A trip around the world is just what we need before we're condemned to a life in A&E. You can pay me back when it clears." Amy wasn't sure about the 'around the world' bit. She'd never really strayed far from home, hence going to the university in her home city. She sipped on the wine and checked Jenny was out of earshot. "Look I was thinking of going back to the adoption agency before we go travelling and seeing if there was anything else they could find on me," she said. Carolyn winced in imaginary pain. "Do you think that's a good idea? I mean last time you got nowhere and it just ended up frustrating the hell out of you." "Last time a friend of the family refused to see me," Amy corrected. "He refused to return my calls and claimed to be out when I turned up at his offices. I saw him at Charlie's funeral and he avoided me again, completely blanked me. I won't let him off this time." The white wine tasted good; crisp, clean and chilled, perfect given the temperature outside. "But I thought you'd seen him already and he'd shown you everything there was to see," Carolyn countered. "Yeah as in nothing," Amy replied. "I haven't spoken to him since my eighteenth birthday. He's point blank refused. That's a long time ago now. I promised myself I'd force the issue with him after our finals." "It just sounds like more heartache to me," Carolyn said grimacing purposefully. Amy shook her head and glanced up to see Jenny talking to Carolyn's mother. The twenty year age difference was apparent in every aspect of the two women. "I've got to face facts," Amy said. "Mum's not going to be around forever. She's not been great since dad died. One day soon it will just be me and if I ever bring a child into this world it would be nice to be able to tell them something a bit more substantial. I mean a coach crash in Italy isn't much of a family tree." Carolyn offered a sympathetic hand on her friend's shoulder. "Look at you," Amy continued. "Every mark on your body tells a story and your mum would know where every single one came from. I've got marks that no one can explain." She looked at the toes on her left foot. The two inch scar next to her little toe poked through the straps of her shoes. "I had a whole other life that no one knows anything about," she continued. "A whole two and a half years that aren't accounted for." Carolyn shrugged her shoulders realising her friend had already made up her mind. "Well I'll be here for you every step of the way kidda but make sure you speak to that solicitor too," she said. "We both need some serious sunshine in our lives ASAP." The two doctors returned to their mothers who were engrossed in chatting about the new found advantages of their future health care. Amy forced the thought to the back of her mind and smiled at her mum but she'd decided; she would definitely talk to the agency next week, whatever her mum advised. They wouldn't fob her off this time.
***The sunshine didn't last for long; it never did. Jenny Walker watched the rain dribble down the window panes of her conservatory. The magazines from the Sunday papers lay in her lap. The broad sheet itself lay still folded on Charlie's chair. She hadn't been able to bring herself to cancel it yet with the delivery boy. The doorbell broke the silence either side of the grandfather clock counting away the seconds of her lonely existence. A visitor so early on a Sunday was a surprise; even more of a surprise was that it was Amy trying to shelter from the downpour. "I wasn't expecting to see you today love?" Jenny said opening the door. "I thought you'd be tucked up in bed all day after last night's celebrations." Amy flicked her wet hair off her forehead. "Well if I'm honest, we did go on 'til the early hours but I wanted to see you." Her mother moved to one side to allow Amy in and then shut the door behind her. "Well it's not my birthday or mother's day. You're not pregnant are you?""No mum, I'd need a love interest for that," Amy said smiling sardonically. The two walked through into the kitchen where Amy's instincts took her to the fridge for an inquisitive glance at her mother's amassed selection of food. "And when are you going to get yourself a significant other?" her mother asked. "Oh I don't know," Amy said. "Charlie's set such a high benchmark. No one gets anywhere close." Jenny recognised the defence mechanism but let it go, instead pouring the tea and then leading the way into the conservatory for the 'chat.'"So what would you like to talk about? Is it the money for your trip?"Amy tried to open up her body language so she didn't look quite so edgy. She'd always felt guilty raising this subject but it was time to move along to the main event. "I was wondering if you had any more details you could give me on the crash?" she began. "I'd like to learn a little bit about where I came from. I've pushed it to one side to concentrate on med school but now I've got time on my hands, I want to see if there's anything I can find out." She watched the enthusiasm ebb out of her mother. "There's really nothing else we can tell you my dear," she said. "I wish there was but it was just a terrible, tragic accident that never should have happened. Going over it again will just upset you. Nobody can comprehend what it was like for you being orphaned from such a young age."
"I know and that's why I'm so lucky that you were on the same coach," Amy said holding her mum's hand. "I'll be eternally grateful for that and me wanting to know more will never change how much I love you. Do you have any newspaper cuttings or anything?""Why would we have newspaper cuttings of such a horrible event Amy? It was just something that we all wanted to forget." "What was the date of the crash? I could contact a local library in Italy and get them to look on the microfiche edition of the local paper, get them to send it to me and then get it translated." "Oh, Amy why would you want a copy of such a horrible story?" Jenny asked. "It will only upset you. It was a holiday coach in Tuscany. It was August time but I can't remember the date. It was so long ago. I'm sorry my love." "Do you know what road the accident was on?" Amy continued relentlessly. "No I can't remember. It was just outside of Tuscany and I'm afraid that's all I know." "Did anyone else die in the crash?" Amy knew she was pushing perhaps a little too hard. "You don't really need to know all the gory details, Amy," her mother pleaded putting her tea down and pushing it to one side. "I do, I really need to," Amy pleaded, forcing a sigh from her mother. "I think six people died but I can't remember." "And what about my blood parents? Do you know where they were from?""No Amy we didn't ask questions like that. We knew they were English too and we just offered to help. Why do you want to go over this again?"It was time to reveal her hand. "I'm going to the adoption agency," Amy asserted. "Please don't," Jenny begged with stress etched deep into her face. "Charlie wouldn't like it. Your future is important now Amy. Your medical career is important, not running round trying to find out facts from lives gone by about people you lost so many years ago." "People make hobbies out of tracing their family tree these days," Amy said offering a reassuring smile. "Besides, technology's changed these days mum. I could find out so much so easily, just through the click of a mouse."Amy had never defied her foster parents, never lied to them or gone behind their back. She looked her mum straight in the eye to emphasise her point."I'm sorry mum but this is something I've got to do with or without your blessing."
***
The name alone was enough to change Derek Blake's day. He should have retired three years ago but with his pension equating to peanuts he'd been forced to stay on. He'd enjoyed his career as an adoption attorney, loved it even, but the very mention of that girl's name filled him with anxiety. Retirement was long overdue. He wasn't proud of the way he'd conducted himself last time she came knocking but avoidance really was the best tactic. Some things were best left in the past. "Tell her you made a mistake," he said to the receptionist on the other end of the phone. "Tell her I'm fully booked all week, tell her I'm on holiday, in fact no, tell her I don't work here anymore." He put the phone down. It wasn't anger turning his face red but stress. He couldn't blame the girl for her curious nature. He'd known Amy as a child and she'd always excelled with the 'why' inquisition. But Charlie had drummed it into her again and again; she had no family and there was simply no more documentation available. Charlie had promised he would take care of things. The raised female voices outside his door fuelled his concern further. "You can't go in there," his receptionist said as the door was flung open and Amy Walker burst in. She located the attorney immediately. "Derek, I need to speak to you." She looked anxious and aggressive at the same time as she stood above him at his desk. "I know this isn't the normal way of doing things but you've blanked me too many times in the past. I need to know more about who I am." Blake took a deep breath to compose himself but made sure he didn't gulp the air. "Amy, it's lovely to see you," he said elongating the vowels in the girl's name for as long as he could. "How's Jenny? I'm so sorry I couldn't catch up with you at Charlie's funeral. I had my own family crisis going on. Sons and sports cars don't exactly go hand in hand. Now how are you?"Amy remained standing. "I'm fine thank you," she said flashing a fleeting smile. "I was hoping you could tell me what happened after the coach crash in Italy. What were the legal processes mum and dad had to go through to bring me home?"Blake looked nervously over to his receptionist and nodded for her to leave. This was a hugely direct question. "Please Amy take a seat," the attorney said beckoning for her to sit down in the leather arm chair opposite. "All that was so long ago now, my memory's faded slightly with regards to the details." Amy eventually sat down to highlight she was in there for the long haul. "Please Derek, anything you could give me would help," she asked. "There must be some trail of documentation I can look at." Blake smiled at the barrage of questions and realised he was going to have to give her something to see her on her way, a snippet of information for her to feed on. "I don't want this to be painful for you Amy, dredging up the past could open up wounds you never knew you had." "I'm a doctor now, I'll be fine patching myself up if they do reopen," Amy replied sarcastically. Blake congratulated her on her graduation more to give himself some thinking time than for any other reason. Then he continued. "Well as I remember, the emergency services took everyone to the local hospital where your blood parents, from faded memory they were called Terry and Jackie, were announced dead on arrival. They died from massive head injuries following the crash and passed away on their way to the hospital." "But I was unscarred?" Amy asked. "From what I heard yes, you were relatively unmarked. Medical staff believed that your parents had shielded you from the impact." Amy felt her throat become dry as she imagined the scene in her mind. "No cuts on my feet or anything?" she asked.Blake looked confused."No cuts that I know of," he offered. "Did they check for my next of kin?" Amy continued hoping her quick fire questions would speed her whole self-discovery mission up."Of course they did. But your grandmother, Jackie's mother, had died only a few weeks previous and I'm afraid she was the last member of your blood family. No aunts nor uncles, brothers or sisters, I'm afraid, no nobody." Amy knew this already. Those scars had already healed. "So how did Charlie and Jenny get involved?""The British Embassy got involved," Blake explained. "They needed someone to bring you home. Charlie mentioned me here, at the adoption agency, documents were signed and it was decided that they would be asked to bring you back to the U.K. After that you went into care and then entered the adoption process. Charlie and Jenny applied to adopt you and the rest, as they say, is family history." Blake finished with a smile. "I'm afraid that's all I can really tell you." "So there must be a paper trail," Amy said relentlessly, "something linking that whole process you've just detailed. Could I look at the documents regarding my adoption?"Blake raised his eyebrows and puffed out his cheeks. "I'm afraid they could take some time to find. They would be what, over twenty years old? Plus we had a bit of a sort out only last month and reorganised the filing system. Perhaps I could get one of the receptionists onto it and see what they can find. It could take a few days Amy. We're stretched with staff because of the summer holidays but leave it with me." Amy knew she was being fobbed off but she wouldn't let this one go. "Do you have a date for the crash? I was going to read up about it in the local papers." "I'm sorry Amy," Blake said as his patience ran out. "You're asking me to remember specifics from over twenty years ago. I've been involved in a lot of adoptions since then. As special to me as you and Charlie are, there were parts of your case which were just that, just a case." Blake hoped the brick wall he had built would be sufficient. Time was a great healer but it was an even better excuse. Amy thanked him for his time and left him sitting at his desk. He sat in a trance for a few minutes digesting what had just happened. A family holiday was long overdue. Perhaps he'd take a month off somewhere remote, somewhere with poor mobile phone service. They'd leave in the morning. He should ring the wife and tell her to start packing but first he had to ring Jenny Walker. It was her responsibility to put an end to all this before things snowballed into an avalanche capable of trapping them all.
Copyright©2011 by Phil Martin
All rights reserved.
Buy Child Number Three for £2.09http://www.amazon.co.uk/Child-Number-Three-ebook/dp/B005IRNYVM/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321268694&sr=1-2
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Snatched, rescued and brought up in a loving environment, Amy Walker embarks on a journey of self-discovery taking her deep into a disturbing Chechen gang in London's underworld.
Having graduated from Medical school, Amy Walker turns her attention to another lifelong ambition; finding out more about her blood parents. Her foster father has died, her foster mother is old and all she has are two faceless names on her birth certificate.Amy grew up believing she was orphaned in a coach crash in Tuscany. Her initial research tells her two things; she was never on that coach and she isn't related to the names on her birth certificate.
Having exposed lie after lie told by her foster parents, Amy confronts first an evasive adoption agency and then her mother with fatal consequences. The subsequent discovery of a gun hidden in her father's desk, along with a newspaper article confirming his lies, a mysterious list of names and a passport stamp confirming his location at the time of the crash, all convince Amy she should stop at nothing to find out her truth. But she is attacked in the night and her parent's home is ransacked. Every detail she has discovered is taken from her, everything except an address and a foreign name left by her father in invisible ink. With nothing and no one left in her manufactured world, Amy sets off on her mission of self discovery to unearth exactly what her foster father kept buried from the world.
After journeying from her Manchester home to the shanty towns and palaces of Morocco and the home of an erratic, elusive socialite, she is told she was 'taken' but saved for a reason. More untruths lead her back to London and a dark Chechen underworld that her adopted parents' suburban existence could never have been a part of. As sinister characters emerge, including ex members of the SAS, exiled Chechen warlords and an impenetrable Eastern European gang, murder follows murder and with each linked to Amy Walker, she herself becomes a suspect; a vigilante exacting her own revenge. But every gang has its weak point.
As Amy gets closer to unearthing her truth, discovering she was the third on a sinister, coded list of stolen-to-order children spanning two decades, she disturbs it, alerting it to her very existence. Just as the focus turns to who Amy Walker really is, she learns her whole quest has been about so much more than just her. The gang is still in operation and planning to strike again, this time in Barcelona. As she gets closer to the person who took her, the person who holds all her secrets, she realises her truth will do anything to stay hidden. The assassins are sent in yet she must stop the snatch.
Child Number Three must be silenced.Little girl lost must never be found.
Prologue Even through the haze of her sleeping pill, Amy Walker knew exactly why the police had come calling. She kicked off her tangled duvet and sighed heavily as the all-consuming nightmare engulfed her again. The last few weeks had savaged her life; the holiday had done nothing to refresh her. If anything it had just cast further doubt on every aspect of her life. "Amy, you need to get down here, it's the police," Joanna shouted again. Amy glanced in the mirror, not to admire her holiday tan or run a brush through her tangled, dark hair, but to look at the lesion on her bottom lip. It stared back, throbbing in time with her heartbeat. She knew it was about her test results. Her GP had said they'd investigate. It looked for all the world like a cold sore, yet Amy had never had one in her whole life. Grabbing her dressing gown as her only necessity, she flung open her bedroom door. "Amy, it's the fucking police." Joanna stood startled blocking her way. "I know Jo, I heard you." Amy prayed it had nothing to do with Morocco but deep down she knew. The man's death had nothing to with her though; the police had said it was a freak accident when they'd cleared her to come home. Amy strode past Joanna to see two plain clothed officers waiting at the bottom of the stairs with her other bewildered housemate; Carolyn. "Miss Walker," the male officer greeted as Amy walked down the stairs. "My name's DC Foulkes. We were hoping you could spare some time to assist us in an investigation." "Are you arresting me for something?" Amy greeted, only half joking. "Not at all but you might prefer this to be discussed in private.""Actually I kind of know why you're here," Amy said wincing apprehensively. "But I've not told my housemates yet maybe I should..."She glanced at the concerned faces in front of her. "I've not done anything wrong. It's about the test results isn't it?"The nods from both detectives were weighted with concern. "So the results have come back?" Carolyn asked. "It's herpes isn't it; a cold sore?"Amy shrugged painfully. "They're not sure what it is, Caz. My doctor said it's an infection but it falls into a pretty unique category and doesn't actually have a medical name."As Amy paused, the female detective took over. "I'm DC Mills," she said shaking Amy's hand. "Girls, am I right in thinking that you've all recently qualified as doctors?" "Yeah, only three weeks ago," Carolyn replied. "But what's that got to do with anything?""Well, there's no easy way of asking this but have you come into contact with many dead bodies during your course?" "Occasionally," Carolyn replied belligerently. "We try not to but unfortunately it does kind of come with the territory. " "And have you all been working in the morgues at all recently?" Mills asked. "It's just that you all might need to come in for test too. " Carolyn's eyes widened at the scope of the questioning. "What?" she questioned. "I've been down to the morgues, we all have, but we've only just qualified. We're taking six months off before we start working in A&E properly. Look, we've just got back from a holiday, what the hell's going on?"The mention of the holiday resonated with Amy but she couldn't force her own theory from her lips; not yet. The male officer took over the reins again; more assertive this time. "We're investigating a potential outbreak at the hospital. Amy's infection is unusual, not at all life threatening but very unusual. It displays certain characteristics. There's no easy way of explaining this. I'm afraid it's shown up bacteria consistent with that found on decomposing bodies, the recently deceased... if you will. " The full absurdity of the suggestion slowly dawned on Amy's housemates. Amy slumped down to sit on the stairs but stayed quiet to let their own realisation hit home. "That's ridiculous," Carolyn suddenly snapped. "The lesion's on her lip. What exactly are you suggesting? That Amy's been kissing dead people in the morgue?""That's not what we're suggesting at all," the female officer assured. "But her GP has raised the topic of necrophilia as a potential line of inquiry."The word alone threw a veiled silence over the hallway.Amy paused for a second to review her possibilities, glancing again at the anxiety etched into her housemates' faces but she knew, she'd made the connection. "Look," she began tentatively, "it might not be the morgues at all. Something happened on holiday. " Every face in the hallway turned her way. Amy looked at her feet and then again at her friends for support. "In Morocco," she continued, "a local man tried to kiss me. I met him for a meal and he got me drunk then he threw himself at me. There was a struggle and I pushed him off but I remember him slobbering all over me as I fought him off. He bit my lip as he tried to kiss me but I got away, he chased me but I got away. When the infection started, I thought it was a cold sore. We all thought the same.""Are you saying someone tried to abduct you?" the female detective asked. "I think she'd remember that," Joanne interrupted. "I'm not sure, maybe," Amy answered as a tear welled heavily in her eye. "He seemed pretty keen on getting me back to his place but everything's hazy. I wasn't sure if he drugged me." "You're not sure if he drugged you?" Foulkes quizzed. "Well he hardly advertised the fact," Amy snapped back. An uneasy silence shrouded the hallway again, this time left to the female officer to break. "And did you report this?""No," Amy said cagily. "We just wanted to come home and forget about it. I've had so much going on recently and couldn't deal with it and I've not been thinking straight. I just accepted I'd somehow caught a cold sore virus...from him""We cut our holiday short because of what happened," Carolyn piped up as an offer of support. "Jesus, do you think it could be related? Oh my God, do you think it could be him kissing dead people? Do you think he's infected you?"The girls looked at each other as the colour drained from Amy's cheeks. "Well, whatever's happened, it sounds like you've had a very lucky escape," Mills offered in support. "From what?" Joanna questioned unable to take the suggestion on board. "Are you saying Amy was kissed by some crazed, serial killer, someone who keeps his victims' bodies afterwards?" "All we're saying is this bacteria is very, very peculiar. But it does sounds like you could have been next on his list. Amy, we're going to need you to make a statement about this... " The detective's words were wasted. Amy's mind was elsewhere, floating away in a cloud of confusion. Instinct told her the encounter was threatening; there was no doubt the man was creepy but next on the hit list of some sexual deviant? Her world slowly collapsed inwards as the shock and adrenalin nullified her defences but deep down she already knew. The next piece in a terrifying jigsaw had just slotted into place but the puzzle was more horrifying than anyone could have imagined; a lot more horrifying. She kept the thought to herself but if Amy was right, she hadn't just been next on his list; she'd been the first, over two decades ago.
Part I
Broken Branches (three weeks earlier)1.It was a perfect life moment, one to be framed and forever kept on a mantelpiece. Amy joined her friends in throwing their graduation hats high into the air. Six years of medical school and a job for life was well worth celebrating but something still nagged deep inside her. The flash photography from the line of excited parents blinded her slightly as the mortar boards thudded to the floor. It was impossible not to smile. The smell of freshly cut grass flooded her nostrils. Even the Mancunian skies were a perfect blue. She watched as her friends' parents rushed onto the lawn in front of the graduation hall and handed back champagne flutes to the new doctors in their families. "Charlie would have been so proud of you." Amy nodded as she adjusted her long brunette hair and replaced her mortar board. "I know, I just wish he could be here," she said as she hugged her mother. She could never describe Jenny as just her foster mother. "Don't you worry about Charlie," Jenny said squeezing the hug back into Amy. "He'll be looking down on you right now and he'll be as proud of you as I am. He'll be watching out for you on every step of your six months travelling." As they hugged a tear ran down Amy's cheek. She couldn't help but wonder if her birth parents were looking down on her too and indeed if they were proud of her. It was a guilty thought that she banished immediately. "Thanks mum," Amy said. It was all down to her dad that she was even graduating that day. He'd instilled something in her from an early age, a desire to solve riddles, and in her eyes, the human body was the most miraculous riddle Amy had ever seen. The lawn behind the main university building had emptied during their embrace. Amy helped support her mum's arm whilst Jenny used her walking stick to strengthen her small, steady steps from her other side. It was on days like this, days when Amy could see the similarities between her friends and their parents that her own origins weighed heavily on her mind. She wondered whether she looked like her birth mother, whether she too had had olive skin and long dark hair. It was a fleeting thought but it still nagged at her in the background. All the information she had about her ancestry was written on her birth certificate; two faceless names and a birth date; no possessions, no photos and no other blood relative. She'd been far too young to understand the accident or remember anything about her parents. Any lingering heartache had been balanced out by the love she'd been immersed in but somewhere deep inside something still gnawed away. She edged into the queue for wine behind her best friend from school, college and university. Carolyn had always been there. She was busy smiling at one of the boys from their course. "Why don't you just take the plunge and ask him out?" Amy said banishing her own thoughts to the back of her mind. "I was thinking more about you asking him out," Carolyn said turning the screw back on her friend who immediately shook her head in disapproval. "Oh come on Aims, I've known you all your life and you've barely been near a boy. You can't use your 'devotion to your course' as an excuse anymore. I'm going to start calling you the fridge you're so cold with the opposite sex." "I'm not cold just cautious," Amy corrected. "Whatever, has that money cleared yet from your dad's will?" Carolyn asked avoiding the relationship dirt path the two had trodden so many times before. Amy shook her head. Charlie had passed away three months ago but still the solicitor hadn't released the money he'd left behind. "Well let me book it then," Carolyn offered. "I've still got some of my student loan left. A trip around the world is just what we need before we're condemned to a life in A&E. You can pay me back when it clears." Amy wasn't sure about the 'around the world' bit. She'd never really strayed far from home, hence going to the university in her home city. She sipped on the wine and checked Jenny was out of earshot. "Look I was thinking of going back to the adoption agency before we go travelling and seeing if there was anything else they could find on me," she said. Carolyn winced in imaginary pain. "Do you think that's a good idea? I mean last time you got nowhere and it just ended up frustrating the hell out of you." "Last time a friend of the family refused to see me," Amy corrected. "He refused to return my calls and claimed to be out when I turned up at his offices. I saw him at Charlie's funeral and he avoided me again, completely blanked me. I won't let him off this time." The white wine tasted good; crisp, clean and chilled, perfect given the temperature outside. "But I thought you'd seen him already and he'd shown you everything there was to see," Carolyn countered. "Yeah as in nothing," Amy replied. "I haven't spoken to him since my eighteenth birthday. He's point blank refused. That's a long time ago now. I promised myself I'd force the issue with him after our finals." "It just sounds like more heartache to me," Carolyn said grimacing purposefully. Amy shook her head and glanced up to see Jenny talking to Carolyn's mother. The twenty year age difference was apparent in every aspect of the two women. "I've got to face facts," Amy said. "Mum's not going to be around forever. She's not been great since dad died. One day soon it will just be me and if I ever bring a child into this world it would be nice to be able to tell them something a bit more substantial. I mean a coach crash in Italy isn't much of a family tree." Carolyn offered a sympathetic hand on her friend's shoulder. "Look at you," Amy continued. "Every mark on your body tells a story and your mum would know where every single one came from. I've got marks that no one can explain." She looked at the toes on her left foot. The two inch scar next to her little toe poked through the straps of her shoes. "I had a whole other life that no one knows anything about," she continued. "A whole two and a half years that aren't accounted for." Carolyn shrugged her shoulders realising her friend had already made up her mind. "Well I'll be here for you every step of the way kidda but make sure you speak to that solicitor too," she said. "We both need some serious sunshine in our lives ASAP." The two doctors returned to their mothers who were engrossed in chatting about the new found advantages of their future health care. Amy forced the thought to the back of her mind and smiled at her mum but she'd decided; she would definitely talk to the agency next week, whatever her mum advised. They wouldn't fob her off this time.
***The sunshine didn't last for long; it never did. Jenny Walker watched the rain dribble down the window panes of her conservatory. The magazines from the Sunday papers lay in her lap. The broad sheet itself lay still folded on Charlie's chair. She hadn't been able to bring herself to cancel it yet with the delivery boy. The doorbell broke the silence either side of the grandfather clock counting away the seconds of her lonely existence. A visitor so early on a Sunday was a surprise; even more of a surprise was that it was Amy trying to shelter from the downpour. "I wasn't expecting to see you today love?" Jenny said opening the door. "I thought you'd be tucked up in bed all day after last night's celebrations." Amy flicked her wet hair off her forehead. "Well if I'm honest, we did go on 'til the early hours but I wanted to see you." Her mother moved to one side to allow Amy in and then shut the door behind her. "Well it's not my birthday or mother's day. You're not pregnant are you?""No mum, I'd need a love interest for that," Amy said smiling sardonically. The two walked through into the kitchen where Amy's instincts took her to the fridge for an inquisitive glance at her mother's amassed selection of food. "And when are you going to get yourself a significant other?" her mother asked. "Oh I don't know," Amy said. "Charlie's set such a high benchmark. No one gets anywhere close." Jenny recognised the defence mechanism but let it go, instead pouring the tea and then leading the way into the conservatory for the 'chat.'"So what would you like to talk about? Is it the money for your trip?"Amy tried to open up her body language so she didn't look quite so edgy. She'd always felt guilty raising this subject but it was time to move along to the main event. "I was wondering if you had any more details you could give me on the crash?" she began. "I'd like to learn a little bit about where I came from. I've pushed it to one side to concentrate on med school but now I've got time on my hands, I want to see if there's anything I can find out." She watched the enthusiasm ebb out of her mother. "There's really nothing else we can tell you my dear," she said. "I wish there was but it was just a terrible, tragic accident that never should have happened. Going over it again will just upset you. Nobody can comprehend what it was like for you being orphaned from such a young age."
"I know and that's why I'm so lucky that you were on the same coach," Amy said holding her mum's hand. "I'll be eternally grateful for that and me wanting to know more will never change how much I love you. Do you have any newspaper cuttings or anything?""Why would we have newspaper cuttings of such a horrible event Amy? It was just something that we all wanted to forget." "What was the date of the crash? I could contact a local library in Italy and get them to look on the microfiche edition of the local paper, get them to send it to me and then get it translated." "Oh, Amy why would you want a copy of such a horrible story?" Jenny asked. "It will only upset you. It was a holiday coach in Tuscany. It was August time but I can't remember the date. It was so long ago. I'm sorry my love." "Do you know what road the accident was on?" Amy continued relentlessly. "No I can't remember. It was just outside of Tuscany and I'm afraid that's all I know." "Did anyone else die in the crash?" Amy knew she was pushing perhaps a little too hard. "You don't really need to know all the gory details, Amy," her mother pleaded putting her tea down and pushing it to one side. "I do, I really need to," Amy pleaded, forcing a sigh from her mother. "I think six people died but I can't remember." "And what about my blood parents? Do you know where they were from?""No Amy we didn't ask questions like that. We knew they were English too and we just offered to help. Why do you want to go over this again?"It was time to reveal her hand. "I'm going to the adoption agency," Amy asserted. "Please don't," Jenny begged with stress etched deep into her face. "Charlie wouldn't like it. Your future is important now Amy. Your medical career is important, not running round trying to find out facts from lives gone by about people you lost so many years ago." "People make hobbies out of tracing their family tree these days," Amy said offering a reassuring smile. "Besides, technology's changed these days mum. I could find out so much so easily, just through the click of a mouse."Amy had never defied her foster parents, never lied to them or gone behind their back. She looked her mum straight in the eye to emphasise her point."I'm sorry mum but this is something I've got to do with or without your blessing." ***
The name alone was enough to change Derek Blake's day. He should have retired three years ago but with his pension equating to peanuts he'd been forced to stay on. He'd enjoyed his career as an adoption attorney, loved it even, but the very mention of that girl's name filled him with anxiety. Retirement was long overdue. He wasn't proud of the way he'd conducted himself last time she came knocking but avoidance really was the best tactic. Some things were best left in the past. "Tell her you made a mistake," he said to the receptionist on the other end of the phone. "Tell her I'm fully booked all week, tell her I'm on holiday, in fact no, tell her I don't work here anymore." He put the phone down. It wasn't anger turning his face red but stress. He couldn't blame the girl for her curious nature. He'd known Amy as a child and she'd always excelled with the 'why' inquisition. But Charlie had drummed it into her again and again; she had no family and there was simply no more documentation available. Charlie had promised he would take care of things. The raised female voices outside his door fuelled his concern further. "You can't go in there," his receptionist said as the door was flung open and Amy Walker burst in. She located the attorney immediately. "Derek, I need to speak to you." She looked anxious and aggressive at the same time as she stood above him at his desk. "I know this isn't the normal way of doing things but you've blanked me too many times in the past. I need to know more about who I am." Blake took a deep breath to compose himself but made sure he didn't gulp the air. "Amy, it's lovely to see you," he said elongating the vowels in the girl's name for as long as he could. "How's Jenny? I'm so sorry I couldn't catch up with you at Charlie's funeral. I had my own family crisis going on. Sons and sports cars don't exactly go hand in hand. Now how are you?"Amy remained standing. "I'm fine thank you," she said flashing a fleeting smile. "I was hoping you could tell me what happened after the coach crash in Italy. What were the legal processes mum and dad had to go through to bring me home?"Blake looked nervously over to his receptionist and nodded for her to leave. This was a hugely direct question. "Please Amy take a seat," the attorney said beckoning for her to sit down in the leather arm chair opposite. "All that was so long ago now, my memory's faded slightly with regards to the details." Amy eventually sat down to highlight she was in there for the long haul. "Please Derek, anything you could give me would help," she asked. "There must be some trail of documentation I can look at." Blake smiled at the barrage of questions and realised he was going to have to give her something to see her on her way, a snippet of information for her to feed on. "I don't want this to be painful for you Amy, dredging up the past could open up wounds you never knew you had." "I'm a doctor now, I'll be fine patching myself up if they do reopen," Amy replied sarcastically. Blake congratulated her on her graduation more to give himself some thinking time than for any other reason. Then he continued. "Well as I remember, the emergency services took everyone to the local hospital where your blood parents, from faded memory they were called Terry and Jackie, were announced dead on arrival. They died from massive head injuries following the crash and passed away on their way to the hospital." "But I was unscarred?" Amy asked. "From what I heard yes, you were relatively unmarked. Medical staff believed that your parents had shielded you from the impact." Amy felt her throat become dry as she imagined the scene in her mind. "No cuts on my feet or anything?" she asked.Blake looked confused."No cuts that I know of," he offered. "Did they check for my next of kin?" Amy continued hoping her quick fire questions would speed her whole self-discovery mission up."Of course they did. But your grandmother, Jackie's mother, had died only a few weeks previous and I'm afraid she was the last member of your blood family. No aunts nor uncles, brothers or sisters, I'm afraid, no nobody." Amy knew this already. Those scars had already healed. "So how did Charlie and Jenny get involved?""The British Embassy got involved," Blake explained. "They needed someone to bring you home. Charlie mentioned me here, at the adoption agency, documents were signed and it was decided that they would be asked to bring you back to the U.K. After that you went into care and then entered the adoption process. Charlie and Jenny applied to adopt you and the rest, as they say, is family history." Blake finished with a smile. "I'm afraid that's all I can really tell you." "So there must be a paper trail," Amy said relentlessly, "something linking that whole process you've just detailed. Could I look at the documents regarding my adoption?"Blake raised his eyebrows and puffed out his cheeks. "I'm afraid they could take some time to find. They would be what, over twenty years old? Plus we had a bit of a sort out only last month and reorganised the filing system. Perhaps I could get one of the receptionists onto it and see what they can find. It could take a few days Amy. We're stretched with staff because of the summer holidays but leave it with me." Amy knew she was being fobbed off but she wouldn't let this one go. "Do you have a date for the crash? I was going to read up about it in the local papers." "I'm sorry Amy," Blake said as his patience ran out. "You're asking me to remember specifics from over twenty years ago. I've been involved in a lot of adoptions since then. As special to me as you and Charlie are, there were parts of your case which were just that, just a case." Blake hoped the brick wall he had built would be sufficient. Time was a great healer but it was an even better excuse. Amy thanked him for his time and left him sitting at his desk. He sat in a trance for a few minutes digesting what had just happened. A family holiday was long overdue. Perhaps he'd take a month off somewhere remote, somewhere with poor mobile phone service. They'd leave in the morning. He should ring the wife and tell her to start packing but first he had to ring Jenny Walker. It was her responsibility to put an end to all this before things snowballed into an avalanche capable of trapping them all. Copyright©2011 by Phil Martin
All rights reserved.
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What's this blog about?
So it feels just like addressing an empty room at this stage but hopefully build it and the power of social media will see a few more people come or at least read this blog. So thanks for getting this far. I'll cut to the chase; I'm trying to drive traffic towards four crime novels that I've written. I'm going to begin marketing the first one today, called Child Number Three. It follows an abducted girl's path of self discovery; her foster parents have both died and she uncovers lie after lie about her past. Overflowing with ex members of the SAS, exiled Chechen warlords, Eastern European gangs, and enough murders to fill a season of CSI, Child Number Three cuts though a soft underbelly with a tear-jerking story of human compassion. I've launched this book on Amazon Kindle and will be doing the same with my other three, all of the same genre. My website, above, is coming soon.My books focus on normal Mancunians whose lives are changed forever by crime or by chance encounters with fictional gangs in Manchester, Salford, London, Las Vegas, from Eastern Europe and beyond. I don't write from the gang's point of view nor do I write about superheroes or humans with superhuman strength, trained to fight or cope way beyond the normal means of you or me.
My plots focus on relationships, breakups, breakdowns and self-discovery. They toy with psychology, spirituality, destiny and human compassion, all taking place against the backdrop of the criminal underworld with its drugs wars, revenge missions, gun laws and murders. My stories break the crime genre; they blend dark humour with sometimes likable villains. I hope they'll break you too. These stories involve the struggles and successes of normal people, pitched into abnormal circumstances.
They'll appeal to a wide demographic. Even if you're more into chick lit or watching a film, take the virtual plunge at no cost to yourself. I think you'll enjoy. They took over my life whilst I wrote them; they might do yours too whilst you read them. I'll be posting the first four chapters of each of my books in this blog along with lots of quirky poems about Manchester My Manchester. Follow the links to buy the books online, download to your kindle, smart phones, PCs or tablets and submerse yourself in my fictional worlds. They're an exciting place to be.
My ebooks are going cheap at the moment (£2.09) to convince people to take a chance on a new author but I'm confident most will like them whether they're a seasoned book reader or a once a year, airport fiction type. I'll be trying to drive traffic here with flash fiction (short stories), poems, blogs etc so feel free to spread the word, repost and retweet etc. Thanks for reading folks.Buy Child Number Three for £2.09http://www.amazon.co.uk/Child-Number-Three-ebook/dp/B005IRNYVM/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321268694&sr=1-2
Download Kindle for PChttp://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/feature.html/ref=kcp_pc_mkt_lnd?docId=1000423913
Download Kindle for IPadhttp://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/feature.html/ref=kcp_ipad_mkt_lnd?docId=1000423883
