House of Sunshine

House

of

Sunshine

Suze Appleton

Published by Susan Appleton

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Copyright 2012 Susan Appleton

The right of Susan Appleton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

This book is also available in print from the author’s website www.suzeapple.co.uk

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Dedication

To the women of The Women’s Institute,

The most wonderful group

of some of the kindest,

most supportive and encouraging

women I have ever met.

****

House of Sunshine

Contents

1 Rainy city

2 Doldrums

3 A change of course

4 Meltdown

5 Oh brother

6 Place of her own

7 Separate wants

8 Padme

9 Brief normality

10 Encinitas

11 Sunshine Center

12 Trust

13 Making plans

14 Finding Tom

15 Retail therapy

16 Proposal

17 A rambler

18 On film

19 Catch up

20 Walls of sunshine

21 A place to stay

22 A shrine

23 Division of labour

24 Ruby red

25 Good news, bad news

26 Bump

27 Not yet

28 Decision made

29 Ceremony

30 Old friends

About the author

Reviews

Other books in the series

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CHAPTER ONE - Rainy city

The palm trees waved slowly overhead, fanned by the warm Caribbean breeze washing gently over the translucent sea and white sands... Sharon put down the book she was reading and stared out at the rain lashing on the windscreen in front of her. She could, of course, have been sitting in the lounge of the Winnebago, or RV as she was learning to call it, but as she looked round she could see Tom, still sprawled out along the length of the couch, mouth wide open, snores hitting several decibels. Even with her music playing through the headphones in her ears she could feel the rumble vibrating through the seat.

She sighed. This wasn't what she had expected at all. Even the trip to Tom's place on Cayman hadn't been as much fun as she thought it would be. She had spent most of their weeks there being sick while Tom went out to meet friends and arrange his business affairs. All those gorgeous beaches and wonderful restaurants, all wasted because she couldn't keep her food down.

Tom had surprised her with his apartment on an exclusive estate with its own private beach. It was in an obviously upmarket part of the island and was full of holiday homes for most of the owners. Truthfully she was in awe of the other residents, although the ones who were there had been very friendly, especially their neighbours, Peter and Lorraine, an English couple who lived in New York. They could certainly party! It had hurt Sharon to stay teetotal while they poured the wine like water. Every night she had made an excuse to leave early, determined not to be tempted. It had helped that even the smell of wine made her feel queasy but it had still been agony. Tom had managed to keep up the pace and had frequently been out with them.

However he had kept his word to her and arranged the promised Winnebago drive along route sixty-six to California where he was going to train as a Wealth Coach. Now here they were, in windswept Chicago, in March, in the rain, the trip stalled because their RV needed a part that had to be shipped from Chile. The strain was already beginning to tell on both of them and they were getting very short-tempered with each other. Being together twenty four seven wasn't as great as she had thought it would be. After the excitement of picking the van up and starting off in New York, the thrill had tailed off once she had made an attempt to do a share of the driving.

It had been such a long time since she had driven, even in the UK, that she was rusty anyway, but here in this wrong way round country she was certainly far out of her comfort zone. She had nonetheless been detemined to do some of the driving, especially on the wide open highways where she didn't have to turn left or right. But then she had had to drive into the trailer park and had come drastically unstuck.

It was all Tom's fault, she thought crossly, shaking her book upright again, he should have taken over and not made her drive into the space. How was she supposed to remember about turning the wheel left to reverse right? At least the park owner wasn't suing them for damage to the fences, as long as they fixed them. And they would have plenty of time to do that, she reflected gloomily. The van was unusable until it was repaired, but three weeks for the part to come was too much. Surely this was America, the land of instant gratification? How could they have such slow service?

She stroked her belly absently, a habit that she had developed without realising over the last few months. It had grown quite round now and Sharon couldn't help but worry about everything being alright. She had found it hard to believe when her periods had first stopped back in December. At forty-three it could have been the menopause, especially after the chemotherapy had dashed her hopes for a baby, but Pam had seen something different about her and had knowingly told her that she was pregnant. A test had quickly confirmed it, leaving Sharon in shock and Tom delirious. He had immediately arranged for a private consultation with a senior gynaecologist. Thankfully the tests had confirmed she was only ten weeks pregnant and he had given permission for her to travel. It had just meant that they might have to cut their trip shorter than they had planned.

A sudden gust of wind shook the van from side to side, rocking Sharon out of her reverie. Even Tom snorted and briefly opened his eyes but didn't wake up. Clumsily, Sharon manoeuvred herself out of the passenger seat and wobbled slightly over to the kitchenette to make a drink. As the kettle came to the boil she dreamt of that perfect life that she was going to have once the baby was born. A house by the beach, a nice car to drive to the shops in, mother and baby massage groups. She comforted herself that it would all be alright once they were in a solid building, with a garden rather than wheels.

She took her coffee through to the bedroom and propped herself up on the bed, reaching for her journal from the bedside table. It was a beautiful, handmade book, decorated on the cover with pictures of her friends and dotted throughout with little mementoes and their good wishes. It had been a present from Julie, her best friend, before she left her house on the Isle of Man.

'You'll forget everything once you get busy,' Julie had said. 'It's one of the things I regret most, not being able to remember all the little things, like everyone’s reactions to finding out I was pregnant, how soon my belly was got bigger, the first kick, everything. The first time is such a delight, such a luxury. Just you and the bump, you're suddenly not alone any more. After a couple of years of no sleep, constant cleaning up, struggling to cope and worrying about everything the child does, it's too easy to forget the magic of being pregnant for the first time.'

It gave Sharon a warm glow to think of her friends back in the UK. How she missed them now. It was barely three months since Christmas but it seemed a lot longer than that since she had seen her oldest friend, Ronnie, back in Stockport with his boyfriend Tim. Their relationship was getting stronger than ever. They had survived their first major fight and got a stronger bond than ever, even planning a civil ceremony later in the year. Sharon knew she would have to be back for that as Ronnie had asked her to be his best man. Wistfully Sharon dreamed of him being her best man in return, but Tom had been adamant about not marrying, so she knew it would never happen. She turned back to the book in her hands

Front and centre on the book cover was a photograph of last year's Christmas party at the Isle of Man house. Everyone was in it, everyone that Sharon held dear. Even Amber had been forgiven for her part in Sharon's Sri Lankan misadventure, and with her baby Betti she was a central part of Julie's family. Julie's last email had hinted that her son Steven was thinking of proposing to Amber this year, although it would probably have to wait till after the growing season. Their ecofarm was struggling without proper help and it sounded like even his friends, Stuart and Sonia, wouldn't be around to help him much more. Sonia was returning to her family in Spain and Stuart was keen to set up a baking school in his home town of Manchester.

On the first page of the book were photos of the hens that Sharon had bought before she had left, along with a few of their feathers. Out of the original twenty-five hens only ten were left. Sharon felt a twinge of guilt, feeling that she had failed them somehow by not being there, but realistically she knew that she couldn't have done any more to protect them than Steven and Stuart had done. Apart from scavenging foxes, some of the poor old girls had just been too worn out to make the transition from battery hen to free range. Life is cruel, brutish and short, she mused as she flipped over the pages. When she came to the ultrasound photo of the baby she stopped and stroked her belly again. Around the photo she had scribbled a selection of names. Tom had added some names of his own but Sharon wasn't sure she liked any of them. Napoleon was definitely a non-starter as far as she was concerned.

She flipped the book shut and stared out at the grey water hurling itself past the window, banging on the metal roof above her like nails driving through. At least it briefly drowned out Tom's snoring for a while, she thought. She drained her mug and looked around for something to do. There was nothing, unless she wanted to rearrange her underwear drawer, again. Wandering back into the kitchen she rinsed her mug and put it away. She needed company and she wanted normal people to talk to. She considered putting the TV on but that would only wake Tom up and they would get into the same boring conversation that they had every day. Meditate Sharon, you need to relax, eat the right food, keep exercising, and on and on, until he had driven her mad with guilt for not doing all the right things. Right, she thought, I'll get some exercise, rain or not, and she grabbed her raincoat out of the cupboard by the door, dashing out into the rain.

The cold water hit her full force and nearly knocked her off her feet. She stood on the step, hanging onto the door handle.

'Wha...' Tom started awake at the rush of air. 'Sharon, are you okay?'

'I'm fine,' she gasped, 'absolutely fine. Go back to sleep, I'm just going to the store for... for.. some bean sprouts.'

Tom jumped up, a little unsteadily.

'I'll get them for you,' he declared looking for his shoes. 'You come and put your feet up, you should rest.'

'I'm all rested, thank you,' she replied irritably. 'Now really, let me do this. I just really need to see another human being. On my own.'

Firmly she slammed the door shut behind her, although that was more to do with the force of the wind than Sharon's mood, but she didn't care. She pulled the coat across her body, holding it in place with one arm while the other hand held the front of the hood to stop it from blowing off her head. From what she could see of the trailer park everyone else was tucked up in their vans, TV screens flickering through the windows of each one she struggled past. Only one opened the door to see what she was doing but she gave him a thumbs up sign as she battled past. She wasn’t in the mood to pander to Jim, the camp nosy parker who didn’t let anything happen without him knowing about it.

She got to the store and let go of her hood while she yanked the door open and fell inside the store. May looked up from her till, or rather from her knitting, and without missing a stitch called out to her.

'You okay, honey? I din 'spect see a soul t'day. Is a day from the devil i'self. You need anythun? Help yerself then come an chat. I coulda made a dozen sweaters t'day, it's so slow.'

Sharon smiled to hear May's friendly invite. It was just the tonic she needed.

'Hi May,' she called, shaking the water from her coat as she walked towards her. ‘I just needed to talk to another person. D’you mean none of them grandchildren have come to see you today? I thought they always came to see their grandma?'

'Oh gee, honey,' May laughed, 'I'm better off when they don't come to see me. It's always can I have, can I have? No, I'm okay here with my knitting, 'specially when nice people like you come in to see me. There, you sit down there and I'll make us a drink while you tell me what brings you out on a day most folks avoid.'

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back to contents

CHAPTER TWO - Doldrums

Sharon squeezed herself comfortably into the little window seat at the side of May's chair as May waddled off into the back room of the store. There wasn't much chance of anyone else coming to the store today and Sharon was just glad to be somewhere outside the walls of the RV She liked May and over the last couple of weeks had come to find her advice invaluable.

May seemed to have experienced so much. Married three times, widowed once and divorced twice, she was only in her early sixties and still open to meeting husband number four. From two of her marriages she had produced six children, who in turn had produced six children themselves. As a close knit family they kept May busy, 'giving her grey hair' she always said. Only her youngest son really took care of May. It was he who owned the trailer park and she was happy to help him run it. At thirty-three he was still single and although his mother frequently suspected that he was gay he always denied it, saying she had spoiled him for other women. It was clear that they had a very close bond and any woman would have a hard time coming between them.

May eased back through the strip nylon curtain, holding out two steaming mugs, and put one down on the windowsill at the side of Sharon.

Sharon picked up the mug and inhaled the warm steam, choking slightly on the fumes.

'There's jus’ the tiniest nip a somethin’ to warm you up,' said May, winking at Sharon. 'I know, I know, you're not s'posed to have alcohol when you're pregnant but it was just a waft of the bottle over the cup, you can't really say there's any alcohol in it. Anyhow, trust a woman who's done this six times already to know what she's doing. These modern ideas is all a load a eyewash if you ask me, designed to scare you silly. As if you don't worry enough about everythin’ first time you're pregnant.'

Sharon secretly agreed with May and sipped tentatively at the drink. Ooh, she felt it warming her right though, chasing away the chills. They sat in a companionable silence for a while as May picked up her knitting again and worked quietly, waiting for Sharon to talk, but she didn't know what she wanted to say, let alone where to start. A sudden movement from her belly made them both jump.

'Ooh!' they both said together.

'You've got a lively one there,' laughed May. 'That's a good sign.'

'Hmm.' Sharon wondered what had caused the kick. Maybe she shouldn't have chanced the alcohol, she worried. She couldn't help but like the movement though, it reassured her that it really was a baby in there and not her biggest worry, a tumour. Ever since her breast cancer any change in her body made her think that cancer had lodged somewhere sinister and was holding up ready to explode. It was a silly thought, she knew, but it was still something she couldn’t help worrying about.

'So,' May continued as she knitted away, 'what name'r you fancyin’ today then? Have you shifted him from them strange ones yet?'

Sharon nearly choked on her drink at this. It was all very well for May to say that Napoleon was a strange name when her own family had a selection of names that had mostly been made up from a mix of everybody else's names. They had names she had never heard of before. One of her daughters was called Dupont because May had thought it sounded elegant and exotic, and her son was called Jack Daniel after his father's preferred drink. Sharon didn't think she would be taking advice on names from May.

Suddenly her heart ached for the normality of her friend Julie, now back home in Devon, or for a night out in Manchester with Ronnie, getting absolutely smashed and not remembering a thing the morning after. She suddenly wondered if it really was a good thing to have got pregnant, at her age too. A frown deepened on her forehead as she doubted the sanity of having to adjust her whole life for this new person, this being that she had always longed for. She looked at May, comfortably knitting away, cosy in her plumpness, having no more demanded of her than to sit on this till and help her son. A cold chill swept through her as she realised that when she got to the same age she would be wrestling with a teenager, probably only just sending him off to college. She saw May looking at her with some concern.

'Penny for 'em,' May said.

'Eh?'

'Well for someone who came out for a talk you're awful quiet,' May continued.

'I was just thinking of my friends back home,' sighed Sharon wistfully. 'It's not the same without them.'

'Well a course not honey,' said May, 'but if you’d wanted things the same you wouldn't a come all the way out here now, would you?'

Sharon shook her head at the obvious wisdom but wondered, what had she come out here for? What did she think she was going to find in America that she wouldn't find at home? She stared out of the store window at the grey rain blowing sideways across the park. It was just as grey as the rain they had in Manchester. The only thing that was different was the lack of familiar scenery. And in the Isle of Man the landscape had been even better.

She remembered lovingly the walks along the beach that she had shared with Tom as he had recovered from his head wound. He had been so vulnerable and gentle, not the same as he had become since they had started this trip. Having control of the driving had brought out the worst in him. She realised she preferred him to need her help,