|
NEW AUTHORS SHOWCASE
|
|
10-01-11 6M P3 |
|
BROKEN JOURNEYS by Christine Findlay |
|
SYNOPSIS: Fiona, in her sixties and recently widowed, finds herself inextricably drawn to a visibly distraught young man whom she encounters coming out of her local hospital. Days later, she is still haunted by his image. When she meets him again, their lives become inextricably connected, setting up conflicts within their families. Can hope and healing overcome these difficulties? A journey of self discovery and ultimate reaffirmation of the human spirit, set against the backdrop of a beautiful Scottish landscape.
“If’you ve got time, that is,” said Roddy, “No plans for the afternoon?” “None.” “Sure?” “Of course. Where would I be off to on a Sunday afternoon?” “Maybe to see your friend - Gavin isn’t it?” She flinched. “No - no, Mum. You’ve got it all wrong. We’re just concerned, that’s all.” “About what, exactly?” Roddy pulled at his cap. “Well . . . about the fact that you seem to be spending rather a lot of time with this man who’s . . .” “Married? Ill? Half my age? - or all three?” “Roddy didn’t mean to be . . .” Tanya began to explain. “Judgemental?” interrupted Fiona. Fiona sank into a chair. “Look, yes, I’m your mother, yes, I’m a widow - but that doesn’t make me a fool. Confused at times, lost even, but not entirely witless. Somewhere underneath all this, there is a me.” Tanya moved across and sat down beside Fiona. “I think what Roddy’s trying to say, is that we don’t understand why you’ve got so involved with this man. I mean, you must admit, it’s a bit unusual - you bump into a complete stranger and, before you know it, you’re visiting him in hospital and at his home. The question is - why?” Fiona got up suddenly and walked to the window, staring fixedly at the leggy wisteria fronds brushing gently against the pane. “I’ve tried to answer that question many times. And, so far, I haven’t really come up with a satisfactory answer - well, at least not one that I think you’re likely to believe.” “Try us,” Tanya invited gently. Keeping her back to them, Fiona began, “That day I first saw Gavin and before I knew the medical facts, I think there was some instinctive recognition of his raw pain. When you listen to a cancer diagnosis, the moment is seared in the mind: like being branded with a hot iron - the pain is so terrible you can’t feel it initially - your body goes into numbing shock. After that,” she continued, “I was haunted by his image, wanted to know his story - wanted to share his story, I suppose.” Her audience sat in silence. “Does any of that make any sense?” she asked, turning to face them. Roddy tugged awkwardly at his cap. “Sort of,” he mumbled. “Like a kind of - catharsis? Is that what you mean?” asked Tanya. Fiona paused. “Yes, I’ve never thought of it quite like that but yes, I suppose you could call it that. He’s helped me a great deal, you know, made me begin to come to terms with things I’ve never fully addressed before. And I think I’ve helped him cope with his situation so far.” She turned back to the window where the first spots of rain stuttered down the glass. “Who knows what’ll happen from now on.”
***** |