Calling You Home (A Glen Avich novella): The Million Copy Selling Author

by Daniela Sacerdoti

Genres: General Fiction

Synopsis

From the million-copy-selling author Daniela Sacerdoti, CALLING YOU HOME is a poignant short story of second chances, set in the snowy village of Glen Avich. If you love embarking on an emotional journey with Dorothy Koomson or Nicholas Sparks, you will adore Daniela Sacerdoti. ' One of the most beautiful books I have ever read ' Serendipity Reviews on WATCH OVER ME Can a frozen heart be brought back to life? Viola's heart was torn apart once and she has never quite recovered. The love of her life was out of reach, so she walked away and never looked back. Now, visiting the beautiful, snowy village of Glen Avich for Christmas, Viola is shocked to find him here, staying only metres away. Can she risk heartbreak again? Inary Monteith's life is at a turning point - a surprise baby has come to upset her plans and open the door to a whole new world. But as her bump grows, fear trumps over love and Inary feels completely inadequate to her new role. As she and her cousins, Eilidh and Viola, gather for Christmas lunch, no one could expect what lies ahead, least of all the arrival of a mysterious visitor who delivers a gift for them all...

Release date: November 15, 2016

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 70

Sample

I tried to slip between a rack of clothes and an elderly woman in a felt hat, but I accidentally bumped into the woman – literally. I still wasn’t used to my dimensions; in my eighth month, the only jacket that fitted me was a woollen poncho that made me feel like a marquee. My brother, who was an outdoors enthusiast, joked that if he didn’t have a tent handy, he could always set up camp with my poncho. I didn’t find that overly funny.

I kept ending up stuck in places – in my mind I was still a tiny five-foot size ten, and not a near-perfect sphere. Sometimes I even forgot I was pregnant, then I looked down and saw the bump, and for a second my heart skipped a beat. My life had taken a pretty unexpected turn.

‘Sorry,’ I said to the woman.

‘Oh, not at all! When are you due, dear?’

‘January.’ I felt sick. And not because my feet hurt, my lunch was sitting in my stomach and didn’t show signs of going anywhere, my hands were swollen with water retention and my back ached relentlessly; no, I felt sick because I didn’t have the slightest idea what to do with a baby.

Bit late to worry about that, now that I was nearly eight months pregnant and my little boy – yes, a boy; the latest scan was unmistakable – was getting ready to come into the world.

‘That’s lovely. Well, enjoy!’ the woman said with a smile.

Oh, yes.

Hopefully the baby was going to enjoy it too, and not end up cursing fate for having delivered him to a useless mother. At least his dad seemed on the ball, I thought as I watched Alex inspecting the blue babygros hanging in a tidy display with bibs and tiny soft shoes.

‘I love this one. See? It has a helicopter on it.’

‘They’re all very . . . very blue. Can we have a bit of variety?’ Alex was a graphic designer, quite obsessed with colours, so I would have expected a bit more imagination.

‘I think Ally loves blue.’

‘Mmmm. What are these for?’

‘They’re scratch mittens. They scratch their wee faces sometimes . . .’

‘Oh God. Why?’ I was alarmed. Babies could hurt themselves? How was I going to stop him from doing that? My nerves were so taut, everything seemed an insurmountable obstacle.

Disposable nappies or fabric ones?

What if I couldn’t breastfeed; would he be condemned to a lifetime of ill health like some of the books said?

Should he sleep with us? If he did, we might accidentally roll over and suffocate him; but if he didn’t, would he feel terribly lost and alone and be traumatised for life?

I’d have to change his nappy every hour for sure, in case he got nappy rash, because I’d read about this wee girl getting a terrible infection from nappy rash and I couldn’t let that happen . . .

‘Because they can’t fully control their movements when they’re very young,’ Alex replied, and I nearly jumped, so lost was I in my catastrophic thoughts. He had the sweet, I’m-in-heaven smile he wore every time he talked about babies.

‘Oh God.’

‘Relax, pal. You’ll be fine,’ Alex said, and gently braided his fingers with mine.

At least Ally and I had him by our side.

See, this whole baby thing wasn’t really my idea. But just as it had taken me a long time to fulfil my dream of becoming a writer, it had taken Alex a long time to fulfil his dream of being with me; and by the time we got together, he was ready for a family. He respected my decision to wait, of course. But there was one sweet night, a night of taking our chances, of not wanting and yet wanting it, half wishing we could call it an accident and it would be out of our hands.

And wee Ally happened – Alistair, like Alex’s dad.

I wasn’t unhappy about it. I couldn’t let myself be unhappy – I already felt too protective of this little life growing inside me, who deserved all the love in the world. It was just that I didn’t have a clue. I didn’t have any nieces, nephews or godchildren; none of my close friends had children. I had zero experience of babies. Babies for me were those things you saw in prams pushed by women who seemed to me some kind of superior guru, touched by a knowledge I could never possibly have.

‘Oh my God. Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.’

‘A breast pump? Yes.’

‘Ew. But how do you know all this?’

He shrugged. ‘Some stuff I remember from when my sisters had their kids, and some I learnt reading the books I got you.’

‘The freaky books. The ones about nipples and colic and the best choice of nappy. Alex, honestly, they make me panic.’

‘Hey, don’t worry. You’re all in a knot,’ he said, taking me by the shoulders. ‘Let’s leave this and go for a coffee and a piece of cake . . .’

‘Or two.’

‘Or two,’ he laughed. ‘And Inary . . .’

‘Mmmm?’

‘You’re going to be just wonderful.’ And he shrugged, like it was completely obvious.

But that only made it worse. His expectation. . .