Slipping Away

Chapter 1

It began one hot Wednesday in August. It was the height of summer. There was no breeze, no clouds, only the stark sun high in the sky. The heat was unbearable. I was in Eastley, my hometown, just like usual. There was nothing special about that day. It could have been any day. But it wasn't. I remember what happened that day. Every detail. Every second. I remember.

I was sitting at home. I had my favourite book in my hand, a home-made ice lolly in the other. I was lazing around in my hammock in the shade under the willow tree, whiling away the long, stifling hours by reading and eating ice lollies. What else was there to do? My mum was working at her shop; my dad was on some 3-month business trip to Dubai. He was always going on those. I was left to my own devices. My friends were on the beach, relaxing and trying to get the all-wanted tan. They kept texting me: "OMG like the fittest guy just walked past!" "Eating ice cream..." "You're missing all the fun" and other completely pointless details like that. I didn't think I could bear the hustle and bustle of the crowds, and all the people swarming all over the beach. This is the south coast after all. Only like the most popular place to come if you want to go to a heavingly busy beach with a cheesy pier and a LOT of fish and chip shops. My boyfriend, Liam was on a family holiday to Scotland, which he happily informed me was wet, windy and rainy, despite the fact that the rest of Britain was having a huge heat wave. He was on the way home that day. Liam. I loved Liam. We had been together for about 7 months by then, and we already knew that we would be together for the rest of our lives. Some people don't believe in soul mates. I do. We clicked the moment we met on the first day of secondary school, when he stopped me falling down the stairs. A pair of warm hands caught me from behind, and when I turned around to see who’s they were, I saw him. Oh-so-cheesy I know, but who says cheesy can't be the truth? We became friends, and before we knew it we were dating. Anyway, back to my story. I was alone, alone with the heat and humidity and stickiness of the day.

Eastley can be so boring. It’s a busy seaside town, and most people just see the esplanade heaving with people, the mile-long beach and the beachside funfair (and also the cheesy pier and the fish and chip shops that I mentioned earlier). But if you look close enough, that’s not all there is to see. Our bit of town is where you really want to be. There are quaint little cobbled streets and little gift shops that sell seashells and drift wood sculptures and handmade jewellery. There are little cafes that do homemade cream teas and cakes. My mum owns one of the bigger shops. She sells "abstract" artwork that people from all around Eastley have made. She's a bit of a career-obsessed person really. She's got mail-order and a website and all the things like that. It earns her a fair load but most of it gets reinvested back into the shop. My dad is the one who earns the money. He's the CEO of some big financial company and he regularly goes on trips to Dubai or China or America doing buisness deals. We don’t see him that much. He earns quite a lot, but most of it is stashed away in the bank for university fees and my first car and my gap year and stuff. We live at Sea Breeze, a little blue house that sits at the top of a little cobbled hill, Ocean View. It has 3 bedrooms, one for me, one for my parents and one that I use as my study. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. Dad wanted another baby, a sibling for me, but Mum wasn't keen. By the time they got round to it, it was too late and there was never another baby. Sometimes I wish and wonder about the baby that never was. Who would it have been? Would I have liked it? I've alwasy wanted a sibling. Too bad. It never happened. I think Mum was kind of glad. It made me angry in a way. I'm not even really sure why. I forgot about it for quite a while but on that Wednesday it drifted into my head and I found myself wondering again. It was something to do, I suppose. There wasn't much to do. Not that day.