When Serena stumbles across the scene of a suicide one blustery autumn morning on the beach at Devil's Cove, the experience brings some deep feelings bubbling to the surface. Only closure on a certain situation will allow her to move on with her life and fulfil her dream of finding true love. Her destiny could be just within reach. Ava's been papering over the cracks in her marriage for too long. The luxury apartment her husband, Richard calls home is feeling more like a prison every day. She craves the laid back, seaside lifestyle of Harbour View and Devil's Cove, far away from the chaos of Cork City. Each time she witnesses yet another homeless person hungry and cold on the city streets Ava's heart bleeds. She always does what she can to help ease their suffering but feels there must be more she can do. She's always had an overwhelming urge to help people less fortunate than herself but Richard has a very different opinion on that subject. When at last she gathers the courage to volunteer at The Central Soup Kitchen on Christmas day, Ava realises she's found her vocation and gains so much more than just job satisfaction. Two kindred spirits lost and alone - so close and yet so far - two pairs of identical eyes, scarred with pain and searching for answers. Unbeknown to one another they've already crossed paths. But a web of secrets and lies has the potential to destroy their union before it even has a chance to begin. Serena's spell book is her most precious possession, handed down through the generations of women in her family. There's more than home cooking taking place behind the door of The Book Nook. Serena enjoys adding a scoop of sorcery to her recipes. But do the benefactors of Serena's spells have enough faith for them to be of any use? Sometimes it seems like she's the only person who believes in the power of magic. One day she gets a little mixed up with her potions but can she really brush it under the carpet and hope no one will notice? Only time will tell.
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Fron Maer ........................................................... î Tîtle Page ........................................................ î Publîser ïnformatîon ................................... îî Dedîcatîon .................................................... îîî
Back Maer .......................................................211 Also Avaîlable ............................................ 211
SOUP
Angea Gascoîgne
PublisHer Information
Soup pubîsed în 2014 by Andrews UK îmîed www.andrewsuk.com
he rîg o Angea Gascoîgne o be îdenîIed as e Auor o îs Work as been assered by er în accordance wî e Copyrîg, Desîgns and Paens Ac 1998
A rîgs reserved. No par o îs pubîcaîon may be reproduced, sored în a rerîeva sysem, or ransmîed, în any orm or by any means wîou e prîor wrîen permîssîon o e pubîser, nor be oerwîse cîrcuaed în any orm o bîndîng or cover oer an a în wîc î îs pubîsed and wîou a sîmîar condîîon beîng împosed on e subsequen purcaser. Any person wo does so may be îabe o crîmîna prosecuîon and cîvî caîms or damages.
For all te people wo ave lost teîr way în lîfe. May you Ind a way back to you.
CHapter 1
A busery wînd bew swîrs o sand agaîns e wîndscreen o Serena’s yeow, Fîa Seîceno. Aoug e sun was bazîng, ere was an îcy cod nîp în e aîr and e underîng o e ocean wasn’ oo ar away. Mos days, ey’d wak e sor dîsance o e beac. Bu î ey were runnîng ae, or î î was bad weaer, ey’d ake e car. “Sî sî, Toby. Mummy can’ ge you ready wen you keep wrîggîng îke a.” Serena eaned îno e car wîs wresîng e îe Jack Russe îno îs red, aran coa. Se was surprîsed o see a man wak pas. He was wearîng a eaer jacke and carryîng a soppîng bag. Serena oten vîsîed Devî’s Cove eary în e mornîng beore se wen o work, bu ere was never anyone ese around. ha was jus e way Toby îked î. He coud run ree on e goden sand însead o beîng conIned o îs ead. “Mornîng!” Serena caed as se pued on a îck wooy a, compee wî ear Laps and pompom, eavîng wo ong paîs angîng a e sîdes. “ovey weaer, îsn’ î?” he sranger waked on wîou acknowedgîng er. Serena srugged. “We, a wasn’ very nîce,” se wîspered, en kîssed îm as se îted îm ou o e car and cîpped îs ead ono îs coar. “ï înk we’ wak în e opposîe dîrecîon o îm,” se saîd. “He seems very srange. Wa do you înk?” Toby, as oug undersandîng wa Serena was akîng abou, pued er owards e rocks. ï se cîmbed îg enoug, Serena
woud cac a gîmpse o Con. He was aways ou eary workîng în e garden, or someîmes e’d pass în îs van on îs way o make a deîvery and wave. Wî er one ree and, Serena buoned er ong wooen cardîgan up o er cîn en, aong wî Toby, began o expore e muîude o rock poos ookîng or sea îe. Toby was soon eager o run ree so once se’d aowed a ew mînues or e man o vanîs rom sîg, se reeased Toby’s ead and se îm oose, rowîng îs ba owards e roy, wîe waves wîc were crasîng ono e sand. Bu raer an case î, e îe dog ran down e oer sîde o e beac a speed, îke a resy-wound cockwork oy. “Toby! Here boy!” Serena caed. Bu e kep on runnîng or some îme beore comîng o a sop and se coud ear îm barkîng reenessy. “Toby!” Serena jogged beînd unî, gaspîng or brea, se reaced e pace were Toby sood barkîng a a pîe o coes - men’s coes, încudîng soes and a eaer jacke. Bowîng across e sand was a essîan bag. Serena sared ou a e vîoen ocean. A cî ran roug er. Wî sakîng ands se dîaed 999, en yeed above e sound o crasîng waves, “ï înk ere’s been a... suîcîde!”
CHapter 2
Harbour Vîew, pease, ank you,” e grey aîred, bespecaced drîver caed as e ganced în îs rear-vîew mîrror a îs eavy cargo o passengers. Ava sood up. he brakes squeaed en e bus came o a judderîng a sendîng er sumbîng orwards în er îg-ees. A number o ands reaced ou o seady er and smîîng aces bîd eîr goodbyes. “hank you so muc,” Ava od e drîver as e eped er down e seps wî e wo bugîng bags o books. A gus o wînd bew er ong, bonde aîr around er ace, obscurîng er vîew. As se srugged wî a bag în eac and, se so wîsed se’d îed er aîr up în a ponyaî beore eavîng ome. Harbour Vîew was aways îke a brea o res aîr o Ava; a wecome break rom e use and buse o cîy îe. And ere were e gîrs - Ava and Rîcard weren’ aowed pes în he Arîsan. No a Rîcard mînded; e’d never been a person you woud descrîbe as an anîma over. Bu Ava woudn’ mîss an opporunîy o see er gîrs wenever se was vîsîîng, wîc was a ew îmes eac week. And se coud aways reax, sae în e knowedge a Con woud ake grea care o em în er absence. Ava sa or Ive mînues on e benc overookîng e arbour. A muîude o boas were bobbîng up and down on e excepîonay roug waer and a Lock o seagus were screecîng and Lyîng above em as î ryîng o warn e own o an împendîng sorm. he deîcîous aroma o Is and cîps was beîng carrîed over e road în e wînd, makîng Ava’s somac grumbe. Mary’s
Cîpper was a andmark în e oca communîy. No one made em quîe îke Mary. Se urned o ook down e road owards îs seamy sop wîndow and conempaed a wîe abou weer o înduge or no, bu decîded no o. Se’d aready enjoyed a cooked breakas îs mornîng. hey’d be pusîng er around on a roey î se’d eaen Is and cîps oo, se oug. To e rîg o Mary’s was e Pos Oice and en Murpy’s Bakery, oowed by a andu o îe coages, eac paîned în brîg sades o pînk, yeow or bue. Nex was e Hand-Made Cocoae Sop and opposîe e park benc, was he Book Nook, oowed by anoer andu o coouru coages. Ava pîcked up er eavy bags and crossed e road. he be on e gass door jînged as se enered he Book Nook. As aways, e sme o res bakîng was îrresîsîbe and a uge po o ome-made soup was sîmmerîng away on e ob. Serena was knee deep în scraps o abrîc sîîng a er sewîng macîne în e back room. “Heo! ï never eard you come în. ï was oo busy concenraîng on îs.” Serena îndîcaed e uge square o pacwork abrîc se was workîng on. “ha’s gorgeous!” Ava gasped. “ï ooks so warm and snuggy.” Se reaced ou o sroke e muî-cooured squares o veve and ur abrîc. “You are very aened, you know.” “We, ank you,” Serena auged en sood up, a orren o abrîc swaces sîdîng rom er ap ono e Loor. “ï jus waned o I a ew jobs în beore e unc-îme rus. Come on e’s see wa î ooks îke.” Togeer, ey wen o e ron room were e uge wîndow overooked e arbour and e park benc, were ourîss and ocas aîke woud sî or a wîe în order o ake în e beauîu scenery. Serena paced er new row on op o one o e ree od armcaîrs. “here now, doesn’ a brîgen e pace up? ï’ ave o make wo more now.”