Second Chance - Beyond Berlin

Second Chance - Beyond Berlin

Sarah Allison


GBP 11,60

Format: 13.5 x 21.5 cm
Number of Pages: 74
ISBN: 978-3-99048-970-3
Release Date: 01.08.2017
In this love story we follow the dreams of Sarah, a single mother with a successful career, who embarks on an unlikely friendship which changes the lives of all involved, even bringing the love of Sarah’s life back to her.
Chapter One

How did I get here? Sitting hunched over a rapidly cooling latte, fingers almost numb to make the most of the pale autumnal sun. People and cars rushing past as if on mercy dashes like blood coursing through veins fighting infection. Damn it, visual disturbance – not had a migraine for several weeks so obviously ignored all warning signs, now my temple is throbbing as well! Fumble in my … thank God Amitriptyline and Co-codamol amongst the detritus in the bottom of my work satchel. Yuk, sticky toffee papers obliterate the ‘use by date’ No matter, wash down the tablets with what is left of my drink, ughh, cold coffee and too much sugar. I‘ve always wondered why brown sugar lurks in the bottom of mugs, lying in wait for unsuspecting customers. Close my eyes waiting for the f lashing, jagged lights and pain to abate. And breathe.
‘Sarah.’ Hearing my name wakes me roughly from my drug fuelled haze. ‘You OK?’ Open my eyes just enough to see the somewhat blurred facial features of Sheila, a colleague peering intently at me. Shit! I had forgotten all about work. ‘We were worried about you.’
I managed a feeble, ‘Thanks, Sheila, I really appreciate your concern. You were right, I had a migraine brewing.’
‘Shall I take you home? My car is just around the corner. We can sit here until you’re ready to leave,’ she avers. At that moment I realized how much I missed my mum, who had been dead for many years, and was grateful Sheila let me rest my head against her shoulder without saying a word.
I have no recollection of how long we spent there. Eventually, with reluctance, I shifted my weight to indicate my readiness to leave. Sheila offered her forearm for me while we walked carefully to her car. I managed a weak ‘Thanks’ as she steered me into the passenger seat with a ‘Mind your head.’ We sat in silence on the journey home, which was a blessing. My head, leant against the damp window, registered every bump and pothole in the neglected road. Once outside my f lat I let Sheila help me climb the slippery, moss covered, concrete steps to my front door. I felt weak and feeble. The air, now much colder, made me shudder as I handed her my keys. I also felt guilty and somewhat embarrassed as I had taken her miles out of her way.
Once inside I keep my coat on, pulling my hat further over my ears and tightening my scarf to ward off any further migraine symptoms. I hear Sheila filling the kettle and am greeted with a smile when I enter the kitchen. Trying to muster what energy I have left I say, ‘Sheila, this is above and beyond.’ Before I have a chance to finish she ushers me into the lounge and arranges my faithful, old throw around me. It’s such a relief to be surrounded by my own things. ‘Green tea, Sarah and I will stay a little while if that is Ok with you? Do you need me to pick Jamie up from nursery?’
I smile, nod assent and allow her warm tones to cradle my bruised psyche. The mere mention of my son elicits silent tears and she kisses my forehead. Jamie, my son, the very best thing in my life, one of the few I have not screwed up yet! ‘Give it time,’ my Ego shouts, ‘you are and always will be found wanting!’
A few moments later she places a warming mug of green tea in my hands, and with a cheery, ‘I‘ll be back shortly with Jamie,’ makes her exit. As I place the empty cup on the f loor (I have never seen any value in coffee tables unless you have a perverse desire for damaged shins!) a wave of nausea engulfs me and I make it just in time to throw up the contents of my stomach in the downstairs toilet. Migraine – the gift that keeps on giving. I always feel much better following my gut retching but, just to be sure, I stumble back to the safety of the sofa and my comfort blanket.
I must have dropped off as I am woken by the sound of the front door opening. Next minute my beautiful boy is before me with concern showing in the slight squint in his vivid blue eyes and crinkled nose. ‘Mummy, Sheila says you are poorly and I need to be quiet.’ His voice barely audible with ‘quiet’.
‘Honey, I am feeling quite a bit better thanks to Sheila and seeing you.’ With this he f lings his arms around my neck and showers me with wet kisses and wonderful life affirming energy. His shock of thick, pale blond hair matted with poster paint and smelling of strawberry yoghurt, his favourite. In hushed tones he whispers pointedly, ‘I’m going to play upstairs so you can get even better,’ and with that he is gone.
Sheila plonks herself down next to me with mock fatigue. ‘I honestly don‘t know how you do it what with work and a toddler!’
‘Sheila, you are a life saver, I am feeling much better thanks to you. Do you need to go now? If not would you like to stay for tea? (I’m always super hungry following a migraine.) It’s only fish fingers, chips and beans, oh and bread and butter,’ I add with emphasis. At this we both burst out laughing at the idea of such culinary delights, tears streaming down Sheila’s face; me clutching the left side of my face and head, throbbing wildly; reminder – must avoid laughter!
Tea time passed without incident as Jamie likes his food and has never been a picky eater. As I start to clear the table, Sheila jumps up with a bright, ‘Let me do that.’ Thinking I could get used to being waited on and my energy f lagging, I let her do it. Usually I am fiercely independent some might say too much so. As a child with younger siblings I was practical, singularly fabulous at problem solving and often helped others to the detriment of my own needs. I was also stubborn, loud, resentful and lonely. Not like others, I spent hours walking on my own to get away from the daily cacophony of my chaotic family. Why I suddenly recall these snap shots of my past life I have no idea. Just tired I guess.
Feeling better for having eaten and mildly responsible for Sheila’s deviation to her day I suggest more tea as I feel a growing bond developing between us. Time passed pleasantly and at a leisurely pace. We were deep in conversation when Jamie appeared half undressed, carrying his blanket. Standing in front of me, legs akimbo he said earnestly, ‘Mummy, I need a bath and you have been talking for soooooooo long!’
Fearing further reproaches, I countered. ‘Sorry, darling, you are right, can I have a few more minutes just to say goodbye to Sheila properly?’
Have you ever seen a three-year-old roll their eyes? Covering my mouth so as not to laugh as Jamie was in one of his ‘Mummy this is serious’ modes. With a shrug of his shoulders and looking from Sheila to me he began, ‘OK, thank you, Sheila you have been a great help and now you must …’ spoken with determination ‘… leave!’ With a cursory wave of his blanket he disappeared down the corridor.
This was Sheila’s cue to go and we hugged by the front door. Not being a great fan of hugging I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the warmth of her touch, and we agreed to catch up on Monday. I even agreed to tentative plans for a lunch date. Closing the door behind her I instantly regretted making promises. I have issues with commitment and trust and saw an invitation to lunch as an unwanted demand on my time. Dear me, no wonder I find it hard to make friends, miserable cow. No stranger to self talk I managed to get myself together to bath Jamie and read his bedtime story, albeit a short one and from memory as it is his favourite. I have accepted that my mind is fragile and needs more than a yearly MOT to keep distractions to a minimum. Mercifully I drifted off to sleep quickly with the smell of strawberry yoghurt for company.
Following an uneventful (thank heavens) weekend being Jamie’s personal valet, chauffeur and all round ‘good egg’ I woke with a start to a dreary, wet and cold November day. I have, even though I say so myself (who else is there?), got mornings down to a fine art. Jamie attends a day nursery which enables me to work full time and as a consequence afford to live in a good area close to local amenities including the tube only a short ride from my place of work.
On Monday morning with no lasting interference from my migraine as an added bonus I get to work thirty minutes earlier than usual. I am the Clinical Deputy Lead Psychologist in Paediatrics. I know this may come as a shock to some and to me on many occasions given my erratic existence as a single parent. This said I have learnt to occupy the space where good enough IS good enough. Pre Jamie I was always on time, work finalized and all notes completed. After Jamie maybe fifty percent of the above is an acceptable standard, certainly my boss tells me so at weekly supervision sessions.
My own astonishment at being in the office early is mirrored by other staffs’ comments. ‘’Don’t normally,’ (the stress on normally not lost on me) ‘see you in at this time.’ ‘You OK – alarm gone off early?’ ‘Forgotten to take Jamie to nursery?’ which elicits from me, ‘Alright, guys, enough already!’ followed by much hilarity. Humour is great in alleviating tension and I am grateful for my use of it now. Sheila pops her head around my door and advises me of my daily appointments and any changes thereof. She also reminds me of our earlier agreement to meet up for lunch. Feeling mildly irritated we finally agree on Wednesday at 1 p.m. with the venue yet to be decided. Thankfully my young clients allow me to remain focused on their well being and, with their parents and other agencies involved we agree on workable plans for their future.
At only twenty-nine years old I feel fortunate to have done so well in my relatively short career and in such an important field of psychology. I completed my PhD aged twenty-three and became a registered Paediatric Psychologist at twenty-five and have been in work ever since. If truth be told there is safety in regular employment, especially one that allows f lexibility as a single mother. I am delighted to be engaged in work that I enjoy, and am good at. I cannot envisage a time when this would not be the case. Children are vital to society in all ways imaginable and helping troubled ones to find their way back is both a challenge and a privilege.
Too soon Wednesday heralds its arrival with feelings of anxiety at the imminent lunch date with Sheila. It is one thing spending time with a subdued me but how will Sheila feel after spending time with the manic me? I am on the Autistic Spectrum and my ‘madness’ is not for everyone. Sooner or later my mood swings, butterf ly mind and peculiar sense of humour become tedious. Eager to stem the f low of negative rumination I give myself a metaphorical pep talk and enter the office with a bounce in my step. I looked for Sheila and spotted her at the coffee machine quietly singing to herself. Not wanting to intrude on her personal space I wait until she is back at her desk. I ask in an upbeat way, ‘Hey, Sheila, got a place in mind?’
Her smile lights up her face, her eyes bright with delight. ‘Yes, I have taken the liberty of booking a table at that small Italian bistro just off the square.’
‘Great, I am looking forward to it,’ and I really was.
The food was delicious and we shared every dish, laughed a lot and in doing so began to get to know each other better. From that point onwards we shared many wonderful lunches and soon became firm friends. Genuine trust and respect flourished and each felt able to share more of ourselves in the knowledge our relationship was real. I discovered she had been married and divorced without children, which she openly regretted. She did not however, have any bitterness or lingering resentments from the past. She accepted that her previous experiences helped her deal with everyday living and ‘being in the moment’. We both agreed that to experience full expression without censure is an achievable goal.
I believe that all of us need to spend time with like-minded people and Sheila was fast becoming not only my best friend but teacher and mentor. I kept on wondering why I was so fortunate to have this wonderful woman in my life.
‘Sarah, where have you gone?’ ‘
What? Sorry, Sheila, I was musing as to why it had taken three years for us to notice each other.’
Sheila espoused, ‘We all lead busy lives and are at different stages of life so it can be difficult to find common ground. I am really happy that your vulnerability and disappearance from the office on that day has led to our friendship.’
Out of the blue she asked a question I never imagined. ‘Tell me about the years before Jamie.’
I must have looked terrif ied as she added hastily, ‘Only if you want to.’
Oh, how I wanted to, I had kept Jamie’s father a treasured secret not only from him but from anyone who asked. ‘Just a one night stand,’ I would say. ‘Forgot to take my pill,’ and any and all reasonable responses to ‘single mum eh?’ I did want to share and needed to tell someone who would not judge or ridicule me. Sheila was that person and in that realization I was no longer afraid or alone.
I felt I deserved some ‘me time’ following the years of rigorous study and decided to go back packing round Europe before my new job commenced. This was all the more surprising as I am not a natural adventurer. I decided to give South America, Africa and Asia a miss as my health has never been good plus I was allergic to many plants that f lourished in more humid climes. I adhered to all practical advice provided by seasoned travellers, Home Office warnings on places to avoid and my personal preferences.
With my itinerary finalized I set off with a healthy ambivalence half expecting to be home within a week, penniless and with a nasty spider bite requiring amputation! This was not to be, as I found out I was good at getting along with other nationalities, spending time with generous locals and other travellers eating local delicacies, some with more enjoyment than others, weaving a rich tapestry of experience. I will never understand, however, committed ‘foodies’ who talk with reverence and awe about calamari and pig’s trotters! I was proud of the fact I managed to avoid food poisoning, being mugged or taking illegal drugs. That’s not to say I wasn’t tempted – seeing others who had partaken emerge in the stark morning light always validated my decision not to join in!
I noticed a look of slight irritation spread across Sheila’s face and drew breath. ‘Sorry, Sheila, I digress.’ I still felt some residual reluctance to ‘get to the point’ on my part; Sheila just smiled and encouraged me to carry on. Three days prior to my return to the UK I arrived in Berlin and found my way to the inner city hostel I had managed to book for the remaining two nights’ stay. I took the opportunity to freshen up – I will never again take a warm shower for granted. The healing powers of heat and water ridding my body of aches, pains and anxieties will never again be under estimated.
I was about to leave to f ind a local, cheap eatery when I bumped into a group of fellow travellers I had met earlier. I was easily persuaded to enjoy a night out and be shown the delights Berlin night life could afford. At this point I remember a nagging doubt warning me that this might not be the best idea I had ever had. What could possibly go wrong between now and departure? Buoyed with motivational energy I ignored any and all doubts. This decision was to change the course of my life irrevocably.
A few drinks in a couple of bars later I found myself along with others in an OK night club, music not too loud, nor too hot and sweaty with the added bonus of seating. Suddenly aware that alcohol imbibed earlier was now taking effect big time I sat down in a quiet corner nursing a glass of water and two paracetamol. Feeling better I ventured on to the dance f loor to find the group had disappeared. Looking around I noticed a very attractive woman signaling she wanted to speak with me. She spoke in German which was fine as I am f luent in the language. One of the benefits of a girl’s boarding school is that learning often replaced boredom and loneliness for me. I am sure I have heard somewhere that women who are unhappy do quite well in exams. ‘I see your friends have left would you like to join my party?’ she asked in a matter of fact way. I replied it was a kind offer; she went on to add that someone had let them down and now their party was ‘unbalanced’.
At this point I thought ‘what the hell’ and followed her to an elevated seated position where she introduced me to Eric her partner and told me her name was Sabine. I returned the compliment and was about to question ‘unbalanced’ when the most beautiful man I have ever seen emerged from the shadows; tall, with shoulder length blond hair and older than me. In honeyed, inviting tones he proffered, ‘I’m Jan, what would you like to drink?’ It felt like an age before I could utter, ‘A white wine spritzer please,’ in a strange voice I did not recognize as my own. With this he disappeared towards the bar. All I wanted, in that moment, was for him to return ASAP. Suddenly, I felt everyone could see how red I was, rooted to the spot, unable to speak coherently as Sabine invited me to sit down. To this day I have hazy recollection of how I managed to sit down as what little spatial awareness I possessed had deserted me. I was eager to see his face again and hear his voice or I was sure I would die!
After what seemed like an eternity he returned, placing my drink in front of me with the most disarming smile. What followed next is still a jumble. All I remember is that my head was full of cotton wool and I had lost the power of speech. I could feel the heat radiating from his body next to me adding to my feeling hot and bothered. Suddenly Sabine grabbed my hand and dragged me to the loo. ‘What do you think, do you find Jan attractive, and do you want to come home with us?’ she said excitedly. My mind was screaming, ‘One question at a time please!’ Breathlessly, I replied I had never experienced such strong emotions before and that Jan was ‘absolutely gorgeous’. I do believe we were jumping up and down together at that point!
Once back at the table Jan invited me to go home with him. ‘I would very much like it if you would share my bed tonight,’ he asked, almost casually.
My response, panic, absolute panic, cold sweats, heart pumping panic; I managed a stuttering, ‘I have two nights booked into a hostel.’
He calmly announced that the said hostel was on the way to his apartment; I could cancel my booking and stay at his place for free. I could not fault the logic in this most sensuous of invitations. Feeling more than a little nauseous I agreed and, to be fair, his apartment was only a further five minutes’ walk away. The cooling night air did nothing to dampen my increasing desire to see where all this would lead as he took my hand. Sabine and Eric were laughing and dancing on the pavement with Eric doing a passable interpretation of Singing in the rain even though there wasn’t any!
His place was amazing, high class chic all the way, bright chrome and various subtle shades of grey, not dissimilar to those shown in adverts selling men’s perfume. I was beginning to feel light headed when Jan made coffee for all of us. After general chit chat and ‘safe’ conversation about work etc. Sabine and Eric made their excuses with Sabine tossing a wink in my direction. Immediately I became aware of Jan’s steady gaze. Hooded, ice blue eyes crinkled as he spoke. ‘I am sure you would be more comfortable sat here with me.’
All I had going on was, ‘Don’t be too eager, stupid girl and don’t walk into the coffee table and make a fool of yourself!’
Sensing my uncertainty he ventured, ‘If you have changed your mind it is OK, you are more than welcome to stay in the spare room.’
OMG, considerate as well as sexy as hell! ‘No, no I want to share your bed as long as you don’t think I do this sort of thing all the time.’ How I wanted the f loor to swallow me up as I realized I had said the ‘conditional’ words out loud. He just smiled, offered his hand and led me willingly into the kitchen.
At this point he lowered the lights, lifted me on to the kitchen top and kissed me invitingly on my lips. Heat coursed through my body and we moaned the longer our kiss lingered. Eventually he stood back, slightly f lushed and asked, ‘Did you feel that?’
‘Yes,’ was my barely audible answer as he took hold of my shoulders, looked directly at me with the eyes of deepest blue, pools of seductiveness I’d happily drown in before saying, ‘You’re trembling. No one has ever trembled before when I have kissed them; I never want this to end.’
‘Me neither,’ I whispered.
With this he started to undress me. ‘I am going to remove your clothes very slowly,’ and that’s just what he did. I was lost in a dream of sensations, tenderness and expertise. His hands were warm and gentle on my skin and by the time he entered me I orgasmed with him not far behind. I can still smell his skin, how does that new Indie song go? ‘I didn’t know I was starving until I tasted you?’
5 Stars
Anneballa  - 16.04.2022
Robert

My name is Robert Smith I wood like to a Aouther

5 Stars
Anneballa  - 16.04.2022
Robert

My name is Robert Smith I wood like to a Aouther

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