Finding Elenore Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Special thanks

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  About The Author

  Copyright

  Publisher: LockGate Publishing

  Publication Date: July 2019

  ISBN 978-1-9161774-1-3 (E-book)

  ISBN: 978-1-9161774-0-6 (Paperback)

  Author: P.W. Hazeldine

  Copyright © 2019 P.W. Hazeldine

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email [email protected]

  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

  Front cover design by Jem Butcher

  Website: www.pwhazedline.com

  Twitter: www.twitter.com/PWHazeldine

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/PWHazeldine

  Special thanks

  Huge thanks go to all those who have been positive, put their belief in me and gave me their support and encouragement to get this novel out there.

  A massive thank you to my reading partners for their constructive input and advice, Adele Bird, Amy Collins, Jane Moulinos, and Sara Whitlock.

  Thanks to my family Jenny, Stewart, Grace, George, Steve, Kristian, Ruth, Bryan and all the little one's Charlotte, Lauren, Bella, Mia, Jacob, Evie, Logan and Henry. I am sure there will be more little ones soon.

  Many thanks to Jordan Bird for his social media expertise.

  Thanks also go to my book cover designer, Jem Butcher. He is a genius and would highly recommend his services. You will find him at www.jembutcherdesign.co.uk.

  To the people of Montepulciano for their help with my research and their wonderful wine.

  And finally, thanks to my Max for giving me the time and space to write this story and for, quite simply, giving me the inspiration to make this dream come true.

  Dedication

  For Max. I love you.

  Chapter One

  Alex Harper is in love with love. Always has been and always will be. He believes the four letters, L, O, V, E, - his favourite in the alphabet - is the craving of every human soul.

  Impossible to measure or calculate it is the one emotion that makes the world go around. Alex yearns for the ideology of one religion, the religion of love, where everyone on the planet lives in harmony and peace.

  Sadly, when he removes his rose-tinted glasses, he knows life will never be like that.

  Often, he has witnessed the devil dancing on his favourite four letters, destroying marriages, relationships and even countries.

  What he does know, without any argument, is that there are different forms of love. The love for our children, the love for friends, the love for sport, cooking, baking, shopping, cars. All different forms of love.

  Alex also knows without question that being in love with a person is worlds apart from loving them. He had experienced this once, 25-years-ago when he met his soul mate, Elenore Maguire.

  They were planning to spend the rest of their lives together until life took them down different roads.

  Today, August 7th, 2015, is the anniversary of their parting. Alex is sat in his garden watching the sun playing with the ripples on the lake while reminiscing about the woman of his dreams.

  Alex often thought he could hear her voice calling him through the walnut trees as they danced in the breeze around the former gravel pit that had now become a picturesque lake and focal point of the home he adored.

  Every day, since their heart-breaking goodbye, Alex has thought about his long-lost love. Some might call it an obsession, but it is not. It is just pure love.

  ‘What are you doing out there?’ came a bark from the kitchen window behind him.

  It was his wife, Vivian. From the tone of her voice, he knew an argument was about to explode.

  Her tone became more high-pitched, and squeaky, as he entered his farmhouse-style kitchen.

  ‘I don’t love you, Alex, I never have and never will,’ she said her face contorted as if she was smelling a fart.

  Alex shook his head. He knew what was coming. He had heard this a million times before.

  ‘What’s wrong now, Viv?’ he grumbled as he walked towards his window seat. It was a long church pew that filled the length of the Georgian window. He loved the spot as it offered the best view of the lake and the woods that wrapped themselves around it.

  His blue eyes refocused to continue their love affair with the sunlight on the ripples. Alex wanted to rewind to his thoughts of Elenore and was not in the mood for a row.

  Arguments were not his style. He saw them as pointless and achieved nothing.

  ‘Well! I love you, but I am not in love with you,’ Vivian continued as she put on her spectacles to delve into the pages of her latest fashion magazine.

  Her words were falling on deaf ears. Alex’s thoughts were all about Elenore. What was she doing now? Where did she live? Did she still have the blonde hair? Did she even have that leather flying jacket with the fluffy white collar?

  Alex loved that jacket as it reminded him of Kelly McGillis in the Top Gun movie. Elenore’s looks were strikingly like the actress.

  ‘I know I have told you a million times before, but there is no spark between us and never has been, no chemistry. Nothing,’ she continued.

  ‘Oh wow, that’s amazing,’ Vivian spat out, interrupting herself, as she admired the red Valentino dress in the magazine.

  ‘What do you think? You could buy me this for my birthday.’

  Vivian lifted the magazine so Alex could see the picture of the designer outfit.

  His eyes were on the lake, his thoughts on Elenore.

  ‘Are you listening to me, Alex?’

  ‘Sorry! What did you say?’

  ‘Oh, forget it, you idiot,’ she snapped, slamming the magazine on the chunky oak table.

  ‘To be honest, the first time I met you, I thought you were an idiot. You still are and always will be. I only got with you because I knew you had money.’

  Vivian was now in full flow and moved closer to Alex, who could feel the hot breath of her rant just inches from his right ear.

  ‘The minute I read the newspaper story about your dead wife; I knew you would be an
easy catch. Just cast the hook and reel him in. Men are easy meat when they are down at their lowest ebb, pathetic creatures.

  ‘I knew, as certain as night follows day, that I would snare you. From reading the article about your pathetic excuse of a wife I knew you’d have money and knew if I trapped you, you would be able to give me a baby which is what I always wanted. Not a man!’

  Alex could not understand why his wife was so vile again. The rants were becoming more frequent by the week.

  He knew his wife, Pippa, was far from pathetic. She died following a hit and run accident involving a truck on a motorway in the early hours of the morning while returning from her mother’s funeral.

  She lay in a coma for months before succumbing to her injuries. Following her death, Alex set up a brain injury charity and used the marketing company where Vivian worked to raise the profile of the cause.

  Alex snapped. He stood up and faced Vivian. His nostrils flared as the tip of his nose almost touched hers.

  ‘Stop being so evil. Pippa was probably the bravest person I have met so go and fuck yourself, fart face!’

  Alex always called Vivian ‘fart face’ when she was in an argumentative mood. The jokey retort often helped defuse the atmosphere but not this time; Vivian was in full flow.

  ‘Go fuck myself? I always do. What do you think I’ve been doing for the past ten years? Sex with you is more boring than your boring dead wife.

  ‘I bet she thought you were crap in bed too, as adventurous as a rabbit without batteries,’ Vivian snarled. ‘Why do you think we haven’t shared the same bedroom since I was pregnant?’

  Alex was fed up of his wife’s moaning. It had always been rancid and lately had become venomous.

  ‘Leave it, Viv. We’ve been through all this before. I accepted ten years ago we wouldn’t share the same bed and would stay together for the sake of the kids.

  ‘I don’t know what is wrong with you. One day you are vile, the next, you are nice as pie.’

  The kettle on the cream Aga cooker began to whistle, the steam leaving condensation on the wall tiles.

  ‘Anyway, rejoice the day when the kids have left home,’ he muttered as he walked towards the cup cupboard.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ he said, waving the fart face mug he had bought her for her birthday.

  Oops too loud! Vivian heard his muttering, and her face became ever more contorted and began yelling.

  ‘Forget the fucking drink, and I will not leave it, Alexander. I’ve not even started yet. How dare you rejoice the day when the kids leave home, how dare you.

  ‘I’ll ruin you if you ever try to leave me. Got it? Don’t ever bloody try. I'm telling you now I will destroy you and make sure that you never get to see your children again.

  ‘I’m in enough trouble already now that you’ve decided to give up your job. Tell me, tell me, what am I going to do for the rest of my life?

  ‘No money coming in every month, no nice cars, no fancy holidays. What am I going to do?’

  Alex had made the decision some time ago to end his career as a journalist and to try and fulfil his childhood dream of becoming an author.

  ‘We will be fine, Viv. As I’ve already explained to you, the newspaper industry is dying, so I took voluntary redundancy. I got a great leaving package, and we will be fine for at least 18 months.’

  Vivian turned on the waterworks. It was her favourite ploy to get what she wanted. She knew it pushed Alex’s sympathy button.

  ‘Alexander, we’ll not be okay. You’ve given up a six-figure salary for a whim of writing books. Tell me, tell me how the hell will you do that?

  ‘There is more chance of Elton John joining The Beatles than of you writing a novel. You’ve never read a book in your life other than boring autobiographies of pampered footballers.

  ‘Please change your mind, Alex.’ Her tears started to steam up her gold-rimmed Gucci glasses.

  ‘Please, I beg you, change your mind if only for the children’s sake. If it does not work out, I’ll have no home, no holidays, no Mercedes to drive, no money for designer clothes. My friends will think I’m a low-life if we are poor.’

  Alex tried to put his arm around her.

  She pushed him away.

  ‘Don’t, just don’t. I’m not giving up on this. Change your mind.’

  Placing the pot of coffee on the table, Alex continued to admire the views of the lake. On the left bank, he spotted the black cormorant which had become a regular visitor.

  ‘Cosmo is back, Viv,’ he said, pouring the coffee. ‘Sit down love and watch him. There’s no need for tears.’

  Within a few moments, Cosmo swooped into the water and came up with his feed before flying to the jetty that joined the summer house in the garden.

  Alex always thought the view from the kitchen window resembled the Monet painting Water Lily Pond.

  ‘It’s great here, Viv. I love being here. We’re so lucky to have this place.’

  ‘Yeah but you probably won’t see it for much longer,’ Viv said sarcastically as crocodile tears continued to meander down her chubby cheeks.

  Set in an acre of woodland with walnut trees, tennis court and swimming pool it was indeed a dream home, the envy of all their friends.

  ‘Many people would give up everything to have a house like this, and you might wreck our life with your whim of writing novels.’

  Viv had always been against Alex’s dream of penning books, and whenever he mentioned it to family and friends, she would ridicule him. Her comments hurt.

  ‘I know you’re against me trying my hand at becoming an author, but I can do it. For years you’ve treated me like shit when I mention novel writing.

  ‘You’ve always treated me like dirt unless you want something, cash, a new car, a holiday, then you are all sweet and kind.

  ‘If it were not for me Viv you would have nothing, absolutely nothing and you would still be living in that rat infested flat in Bethnal Green. Do you know you told me so many lies when we first got together?

  ‘You told me you were a Marketing Director for the company which helped promote Pippa’s charity. Three years later, I discovered the truth. You were a marketing assistant.

  ‘You also told me you lived in swanky Chelsea. You even took me there several times, probably to get inside my pants. A year later I discovered you rented it just for our meetups.

  ‘The truth was you lived in Bethnal Green, and you were drowning in debt with bailiffs knocking on your door.

  ‘No man in his right mind would stay with you after all the lies. Trust and honesty were gone.

  ‘It was too late by then Viv, wasn’t it? You had already fallen pregnant, and I felt obliged to try and make a go of things for the sake of the baby and Olivia and Dylan who had become attached to you after their mum died.’

  Alex yearned for Vivian’s support. Nothing she could say or do was going to stop him. He was 50 and was determined to chase his dream before it was too late.

  ‘It’ll be something I can be proud of if I’m successful. A legacy for my children and grandchildren and future generations who will be able to pick up one of my books and know that the author is related to them. That would make me so proud.’

  Vivian looked into Alex’s eyes. She loved them, a sparkling blue that reminded her of the Hollywood movie star Bradley Cooper.

  Alex had similar brown hair but was tousled and longer. His face wore the same to die for smile.

  ‘God, I would shag his brains out, if I did not hate him so much,’ she thought as she lost herself in him for a moment.

  Reaching out to touch him, she pulled her hand back quickly, catching her Gucci watch on her white Stella McCartney blouse.

  ‘Great! I hope I’ve not snagged it. It cost me £500.’

  ‘Actually, Vivian, it cost me £500.’

  ‘Whatever! You talk twaddle, Alex! I want you to keep me in the lifestyle I want. As I’ve said, there is no guaran
tee you can do this if you start writing novels.’

  The horrible atmosphere was too much for Alex, and he took his coffee outside to immerse himself in his memories of Elenore once more.

  Chapter Two

  Alex had been secretly planning his escape route to a tranquil, scenic spot in Montepulciano in Italy’s Tuscan countryside. His father, Harry, passionate about the country and the birthplace of modern civilisation and western art, had purchased a quaint three-bedroom stone-built holiday home there several years before his death.

  From its arched bedroom window, you could see the mouth-watering Tuscan landscape and the domed top of the San Biagio church. It was his dad’s heaven on earth, and he often spoke of the sunsets, the vineyards, and its tranquillity.

  The home had been left to Alex in his father’s will, but he had only visited once in the ten years since his dad’s death from a heart condition.

  He had already decided to drive to Italy and had been in touch with Franco Fiore, a family friend who looked after the house, to tell him of his imminent arrival.

  All he had to do now was to tell Vivian and his children. His eldest, Dylan already knew of the plan before jetting off on his honeymoon to Jamaica. Dinner could not come soon enough.

  ‘Hi, dad!’ Harry shouted from the hallway as he dumped his sports bag onto the bottom stair. ‘Hi, son, a good day at football training?’

  ‘Yes. Can a couple of my mates come around to play tennis, please?’ he shouted racing upstairs to get changed. ‘I’ve told them to be here in 20 minutes.’

  ‘Sounds like you have it sorted, then! I’ll be the umpire,’ Alex shouted back.

  ‘Great, thanks, dad!’

  Harry loved life and all animals. He had the looks of his mother, curly black hair and Harry Potter specs and that occasional fart-face expression. However, he had the nature of his dad, kind, gentle and generous to a fault.