He averted her gaze, sucking air in through his teeth. One of his many irritating habits and something he always did when he knew he was in the wrong. He sighed deeply before turning to look at her again, a weak smile rippling across his face as his eyelashes fluttered.
Reservoirs of choppy water had flowed under the bridge during the last forty years, taking some of the best bits of Lisa’s life with it, along with the flotsam and jetsam. She no longer had her high-flying job and she would never find another Jack, her mother indirectly responsible for the loss of the two most important things in her life.
I don't think my mother read any of my literary contributions since I had poetry published at eleven when she had high hopes that I would become Gloucestershire's answer to William Wordsworth. Oh, and helping my step-father piece together his aeronautical autobiography, of course.
Lucy takes a walk to the pub on a glorious summer evening with the new man in her life and opens her heart to tell him how she is feeling about him, her adulterous accountant ex-boyfriend and life in general.
I've moved on from binge watching Game of Thrones, along with the other addicted viewing millions as we wait, anxiously twiddling our fingers, for Season 8 to explode on to our screens in 2019.
It was inevitable really… two nineteen-year-olds and a baby living under the same roof as my mother was never going to work.
God forbid that I would want to bludgeon the reader with anything but I have taken these words of wisdom on board as I sift through the manuscript again.