The Page
by M.
Jonathan Lee
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
"Following
a tragic car accident, Michael Sewell is alone for the first time. The loss of
his wife, Margaret after thirty years of marriage has left a hole far greater
than Michael could have imagined.
Persuaded
to go on holiday, by his daughter Jane, a page blown from a book crosses the
pool and sticks to his chest. The words from the page resonate with Michael,
describing in detail the exact events leading up to the accident.
Now,
Michael must delve into his past and face his future, taking him and his family
on a horrifying and tragic journey toward the truth."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPT:
“Right. I see no reason to stay here any longer.”
Michael stood. He looped his navy woolen scarf around his
neck, put on his grey waterproof walking jacket and slowly and precisely zipped
it to just below his chin. He then turned and left.
Margaret fluffed her hair, fruitlessly trying to restore it
to how it looked before her journey to the car. It wasn’t working; her
previously neat salon-set hair sat like a sodden dark-grey dishcloth. The
wipers continued their metronomic dance across the windscreen, trying to keep
up with the demands of the heavy rain. The car was still and silent aside from
the ticking of the engine. Michael appeared to be in no rush to move it
forwards; instead he chose to continue to stare at his wife.
Margaret felt uncomfortable; she hadn’t considered this
stage in her overall plan. She slid the door back across the mirror of the
sun-visor, switching off the light it provided, which made the car slightly
darker.
Slightly eerier.
She looked straight ahead and noted there was nobody around.
Nobody outside in the dark, slightly foggy evening. The woodland that
surrounded the car park from every side gave her the sense that she was in the
centre of some bleak amphitheatre. To her left were the lights which shone
through the half-closed curtains in the windows of the pub. But the lights were
becoming blurred from the condensation which was building on the inside of the
car windows. For a moment, she considered going back into the pub and making
alternative arrangements to get home.
Michael seemed to sense this fleeting thought and all of a
sudden, from the corner of her eye, she saw his hand move, pushing the gear
stick into first. The car crept slowly forwards. A slight ripple of relief
passed through her as Michael’s head turned away from her. She returned the
sun-visor to the roof of the car and stared directly ahead, their vision now
focused in the same direction.
The car moved slowly towards the edge of the oval car park,
following the perimeter instead of the more direct route across the almost
empty space. It approached the area furthest from the pub, furthest from the
exit, creeping slowly into the darkest area of the car park. Then Michael
reached down very precisely and put the car into neutral. His head turned and
again his eyes narrowed.
Margaret looked at him directly. She could just make out his
eyes in the near-darkness, the moon reflecting the shine from his pupils. She
could see enough to deduce that they had changed. The shine was simply a
creation of the moon. They looked empty, vacant. The stare lasted only a couple
of seconds, until Michael snapped back into reality, put the car back into gear
and headed towards the exit.
They reached the junction with the main road and paused
alongside the tall wooden sign which invited people to the warmth of the Ring
O’Bells. The wind outside had increased and the hand-painted silver bell on the
sign swung violently. Silently tolling in the black night. The silence was
broken momentarily by the click-click of the indicator signaling that they
were turning right, away from the direction of home.
Michael turned out of the car park and joined the unlit main
road, at which point he quickly accelerated. Margaret wasn’t sure where they
were heading but knew that Michael was familiar with this sparsely populated
but affluent area of the Oxfordshire countryside. She was aware that,
sporadically, at the roadside were entrances to long, sweeping drives winding
their way up to mansion-like farmhouses set in acres of land. She was aware of
this because Michael would proudly tell her of the latest new client he had
obtained in small villages around the area. And, of course, he would tell her
of the money these clients would bring to his firm of solicitors.
The car continued to gather speed, accelerating at pace
before slowing abruptly to safely navigate the tight, twisting bends. Inside
the car it remained deathly silent. The Eagles (which had accompanied them on
the outward journey) no longer played. To Margaret, the choice of silence
indicated Michael now had control, and today she would simply not relinquish
it.
They sped along the country roads, the rain continuing to
smash relentlessly against the windscreen, making visibility ever more
difficult. The tall hedgerows on each side of the vehicle made Margaret feel
increasingly entombed. From time to time they would approach a small hamlet and
Michael would slow the car right down before accelerating quickly, rendering
the ‘Thank You for Driving Carefully’ road sign a blur.
Margaret reached down into her bag and retrieved her mobile
phone. She clicked the button on the top and the screen lit brightly. She
awaited the bars to indicate that if she needed to make a call, she could. The
phone would take her attention away from the weight of the silence in the car.
It would also give the impression that this journey was not affecting her and
that she had other things to do.
The car continued at pace through the darkness.
No signal.
She was used to Michael driving at speed; ‘using the power
of the vehicle’ he called it. She had lost count of the times over the years
that she had asked him to slow down. The times that she had told him she was
scared. But at those times, he would simply accelerate. Enjoying her fear.
Enjoying his utter domination of the situation. But today things seemed
different. His hands gripped the steering wheel ferociously. His face, lit by
her phone, was contorted. His eyes had definitely changed. Now he didn’t seem
to be driving the car. Rather, he was trying to tame it, to keep it under
control. His face reminded her of a rodeo cowboy as the horse kicked and jarred
beneath him. Total focus, total concentration. This scared her.
And now they were on a straight road. Ever quicker. Ever
faster.
Then brake.
A bend.
Swing to the left.
Swing back to the right.
And accelerate again.
Wet twigs discarded by trees cracked under the tyres. Water
splashed up from the road, coating the windscreen before the wipers sent it
back to earth. Faster. Ever faster.
Margaret gripped the handle on the passenger door tightly
with her left hand. The palm of her right was beginning to hurt as it encased
her mobile phone. She glanced down. Still no signal. This was too fast. Much
too fast. Her entire body clenched so tightly that her muscles hurt.
Accelerate.
Brake.
Swing left.
Swing left again.
Accelerate.
Accelerate.
Accelerate.
Accelerate.
It was time to speak, time to say something. Time to
relinquish control.
“Michael!” she shouted. “Slow down.”
Silence.
Michael pushed his foot toward the floor.
Faster.
The wipers struggled to cope with the rain.
“Michael, for God’s sake, slow down. Please.”
The ‘please’ was an open admission that signified to them
both that her control was now lost. But now Margaret didn’t care. She was
scared. So many times throughout her marriage she had felt afraid, but never
like this.
The car swung again, gathering pace.
Quicker.
Faster.
“Michael, this is ridiculous. It’s not safe!” she screamed.
Tears welled and then exited her eyes.
“It’s not safe!”
Silence.
Quicker.
Faster.
“Michael, what are you doing? What do you want?”
Michael slowly turned toward her.
“Margaret,” he said calmly and deliberately, “I never want
to hear your voice again.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A SPECIAL UPCOMING CONTEST
FROM THE AUTHOR
The Page has 15 clues which
to a lesser or greater extent give away the twist in the final chapter. The
clues are inserted into the text and hopefully are well-hidden. To celebrate
the release of The Page in February 2015, a competition will be run. We will
invite people to identifythe clues and enter (when they have ten or more - as
some may be so well hidden they are never found) through my website www.jonathanleeauthor.com. The competition
will close 163 days after the release of The Page, and the winner (i.e. the one
who identified the most clues - in the event of a tie - at random) will win:
1) One month's royalties
earned from The Page;
2) The original manuscript
(of which there is only one);
3) A numbered and signed
copy of The Page - review copy - there are only 20 of these worldwide;
4) A signed copy of my back catalogue
in paperback or kindle version;
5) The Page promotional mug;
6) A free signed copy of all
future novels released by me for life.
The overall winner will win
1-6 above. 2nd/3rd will received 4-6 only.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Jonathan Lee was born in a small mining town somewhere in the
north of England. His first novel, The Radio was nationally shortlisted in The
Novel Prize 2012 for new authors, coming second from over 4,000 entries. The
Radio was published in April 2013 and has received critical acclaim and sold more
than 5,000 copies. His second novel, The Page is published in Spring 2015.
My website is here: www.jonathanleeauthor.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/j0n4th4n_lee
BUY LINK:
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ReplyDeleteIs there any marketing technique you used that had an immediate impact on your sales figures?
ReplyDeleteWhat an exciting excerpt. I was holding my breath at the end.
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