Seventy Summers
Amy and her best friend Alice are seventy. It’s 1989 and the world has changed out of all recognition from when they were growing up together in the old town of Spinton in Kent.
This new series will detail the daily lives of the two friends as they reminisce about their earlier lives. Amy will also record some of the shorter mysteries she was involved in. Mysteries that never made the Amy Rowlings Golden Age crime series.
So, here’s chapter one to give you a taste of what to expect. There will be two short mysteries per book. The first is The Jazz Singer.
Seventy Summers
Chapter One
Reunion
‘Mollison Farm, Alice speaking.’ A series of beeps sounded in her ear, then a female voice was heard.
‘Hello Alice speaking, this is Amy speaking.’
‘AMY!’ Alice almost shouted. ‘Have you come home? How long have you been back? When can you come to see me…? Or I’ll come to see you… it’s been so long.’ Alice’s voice cracked as she spoke.
‘One year, two months and six days, not that I’ve been counting,’ Amy said. ‘How are things at the farm?’
‘Oh, never mind the farm. I’ve got so many questions.’
‘I don’t have enough change for questions, dear heart. I’m using my last twenty p coin. I just wanted to wish you a very happy birthday.’
‘At least tell me where you are. Are you back home in Nottingham? No, of course you aren’t or you wouldn’t be calling from a telephone box… How is Alicia? Has she rec…’ Alice stopped speaking as she heard a series of pips, then the line went dead.
‘Damn,’ Alice said as she replaced the handset on the base.
I’ll wait a bit. She might call again if she gets hold of some change.
Five minutes later, she got to her feet as she heard the back door open. Hurrying through the kitchen doorway from the lounge, she threw her hands up in delight as she saw her lifelong best friend standing by the big oak table in the farmhouse kitchen. ‘Is it really you?’ she yelled as she scurried across the kitchen and threw herself into Amy’s open arms.
‘I’ve missed you so much,’ she sobbed.
Amy squeezed tight as her own tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve thought about you every day.’
It was a full three minutes before the two women let go of each other and began to wipe the tears from their faces.
‘Happy seventieth birthday, dear heart,’ Amy said, patting the gaily wrapped present she had placed on the table. ‘Is the kettle on? I’m parched.’
Still dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, Alice crossed the kitchen, picked up the electric kettle and shook it. Then, deciding it needed a top up, she filled it at the tap above the big Belfast sink that had been in place for over sixty years. ‘It’s not fair. I didn’t get to see you on your seventieth.’
‘I was hoping to have been back for that, but Alicia’s recovery took longer than they thought it might. She was in a bad way after that road accident.’
Alice dropped three tea bags into the pot and tapped her foot as she waited for the kettle to boil. ‘Is she all right now? I so wanted to fly out to see her myself, but I couldn’t leave the farm. I was in the middle of negotiating selling off the top pastures to the council. They want to build a new school.’
‘Alicia’s made a remarkable recovery. She won’t play netball at top flight level again though, but as she said, that’s a small price to pay. She was lucky to survive the impact.’ Amy’s face lost a lot of its colour as she thought about how close to death her daughter had come. Continue reading
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