Mostrando resultados por autor "Maria Frankland" en Todas las categorías

I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who to trust. But someone out there knows what really happened to me. The faces staring back at me feel wrong, their voices uncomfortably distant. Ever since I woke from the coma, it’s like I’ve been locked in a stranger’s life. My memories are fractured – frozen at thirty, yet they insist I’m forty. A wife. A mother. But these strangers? They say they’re my family. Daniel, my husband, swears he loves me, yet I can’t recall saying ‘I do.’ My children’s faces stir nothing but guilt. Even the wedding album feels staged.

I’ve never felt welcome in my husband Dominic’s family home. His parents make it clear I’m a poor comparison to his perfect first wife, Carla. But we’re here for Christmas, so it’s important to pretend everything is fine. Until Dominic’s mother bustles into our bedroom. Smiling thinly, she blindsides me: ‘You won’t mind, will you. Carla is coming for the holidays. She’s still one of the family to us, and she can’t get home because of the storm.’ My eyes widen—did she and Carla plan this on purpose? I know Dominic won’t say a thing. He never stands up to his parents.

I open the front door and there’s Amy, smiling sweetly and ready to help. She’s been a lifesaver since Jon and I moved here–from walking the dog to picking up my little son Teddy from nursery last minute. I’m so lucky we met in the playground the first day we arrived. Amy is more than just a good friend. My only friend, really. Whenever Amy and Jon exchange glances I’m sure it seems like they’ve met before, even though Jon swears they haven’t. But then again Jon recognises lots of people from his childhood round here without truly knowing them.

I’m dreading turning fifty more than I’ve dreaded any other birthday in my life. Now that my kids are at university, the prospect of spending the rest of my life with my bullying, balding, and boring husband is a miserable one. Which is why I employed Jay. He gives me the reason I need to get up, to go on and to look forwardand I’ll do anything to keep him.

I stand at the front door and meticulously check my reflection in the glass. I must look perfect to meet Lou's new boyfriend. I haven't been invited but best friends don't require invitations, right? Her presence has always been a constant, demanding focus in my life. Now, however, it's evolving into something deeper, with unsettling imitations and intrusive encroachments into every aspect of my world. The struggle to create distance only seems to intensify Donna's attachment, Pulling her dangerously closer.

I keep getting the sense of being watched. But when I glance up, it’s not by the person I want it to be. Dale’s always busy doing something else. Really, I must have the most unromantic partner on the planet. Or so I thought. For Dale has prepared a Valentine’s Day surprise, and I don’t need asking twice to follow the clues I’ve found. I find my way to the remote cottage he’s booked, gobsmacked as I respond to his written instruction to enter.

I stand at the front door and meticulously check my reflection in the glass. I must look perfect to meet Lou’s new boyfriend. I haven’t been invited but best friends don't require invitations, right? Scott's arrival coincides with Donna's, leaving me with no choice but to welcome her in, though I've made it clear she's an unnecessary addition to today's gathering. This meal is about introducing Scott to my mother and daughter – a fact Donna conveniently ignores.

Beautiful, bright-eyed Michelle Jackson, a loving wife and mother, has been killed. Her husband Paul is accused of murdering her. Their little girl Emily, numb with grief, is refusing to speak. You’ll hate Paul for what he’s done. Everyone said they were the perfect couple, always holding hands. They did everything together. But when you hear about their whispered arguments and the terrible lies they both told, you’ll be certain Paul is guilty. But everything you think you know is wrong. After all, behind closed doors every marriage has secrets. And some are deadlier than others.

It was supposed to be a holiday to fix the cracks in our fractured family. I knew the seven days would be endless, but I never imagined that one of us would only survive for six of them… As I carry my case into the charming and rustic cottage and smile at my sister-in-law, Kelli, I allow myself a moment of hope. Perhaps this holiday will force our family to address our long-held grudges and leave with the promise of a happier future.

As I walk into the pine-scented air of my seaside childhood home, gripping my husband Neil’s hand tight, I have a brief moment of hope. Maybe this Christmas will be different — for once my family might get on fueled by mulled wine and festive cheer. But the sound of happy carols are replaced by my older sister Christy’s over-loud laugh and slurred words. Rebecca, my younger sister, stalks out of the room as soon as I enter, as though I’m the Grinch here to steal Christmas. And their husbands, brash and arrogant, slap Neil’s back in a way that promises torment rather than welcome.

It kills me that the only way I can spend proper time with my son Toby is by helping out at his school camp. I sit under the emerald green pine trees and Toby’s little face lights up as he runs past me, joining the other chattering, happy children around us. Then I see my ex, David, glaring at me and my heart sinks. He may have full custody, but he’d love nothing more than for me to disappear. Forever.

The moment she sees Caitlyn, wearing her ‘bride-to-be’ sash and brimming with excitement, it hits her. She hates Caitlyn. She knows who she is – what she’s really hiding. And the temptation to do something about it is too strong to resist… It sickens me, the way they all think she’s so perfect. I plaster a fake smile on my face – all I have to do is pretend I’m enjoying the next few days. It shouldn’t be so hard. After all, I’ve been lying for years.

Today’s the day. The things I’ve packed are hidden away and I’m waiting for the go-ahead to collect the keys to the new house. I’m so close to escaping Justin’s moods, his drinking and his violent tendencies, which are gradually getting worse. His promises of change mean nothing anymore and I’ve got to get away from him. But a national lockdown has just been announced.

As I stand outside the registry office with my husband-to-be, Hugh, I can tell something isn’t right. He won’t speak to me, he won’t even look at me and it’s almost making me have second thoughts. Almost. Despite the feeling in my gut, I’m sure I’m doing the right thing. After all I’ve been through in the last year—the death of my parents, and my partner of ten years walking out, I deserve this chance of a new start. I can’t return to my lonely life—I don’t want to be alone again.

From where I stand in the shadows outside the pub I own, I can already tell what mood my husband’s in and it makes me want to stay exactly where I am. However, I can also see my bar manager, Jay. Sexy, young and exciting, he’s the person who’s going to set me free from my middle-aged monotony. I’m dreading turning fifty more than I’ve dreaded any other birthday in my life. Now that my kids are at university, the prospect of spending the rest of my life with my bullying, balding and boring husband is a miserable one.

You died three weeks ago, so how can you be following me on social media? Your funeral is packed to the rafters leaving standing room only. Everyone talks about your untimely death and the hole you’ve left behind. But no one feels your loss more than me, Mum. I’m the one returning to an empty house and I’m the one who receives the first notification from X.

Becoming Tom’s mum had always robbed me of the chance to sleep, and here I was, fifteen years on, alone in the dead of night, longing to be able to rest like everyone else. When I saw the thin blue line on my pregnancy test, I dared to hope for a future of blissful motherhood. From his very first night in the world, Tom did not sleep. By the time he was six months old, I was a single parent and almost maddened with tiredness.

Every time I turn the corner towards home, I yearn for Ed to have returned. But he’s not coming back. The man I thought was my forever has been living a lie with me since the moment we met. I’m sick of hearing his voicemail message. I’m even more sick of the unanswered texts. He’s left me completely in the dark and I can’t even give our kids an answer to their never-ending question, ‘When’s Daddy coming back?’

Sunny afternoons are the worst for a recovering alcoholic. But I’m doing OK and I’m proud of myself. I stretch out on my sun lounger with my book, basking in the peace before I have to collect my son from school. Then the gate rattles. It’s the police and judging by their expressions, they’re not here with good news. As I face the two officers, I try to dismiss what they’re telling me. My husband, Rob, can’t possibly be dead—I only saw him this morning. Besides, he’s the safest cyclist I know and would never put himself at risk.

In the midst of a sea of holidaymakers, I find myself the lone outsider – no companion, no luggage. An enigma among the carefree crowd. I wonder what they’d do if they knew who I am. Who I really am… What is Liz running away from? Who is this woman my father married? Did he have any idea of what she was capable of? My gaze fixates on the once-familiar house that now feels like a distant memory. I can hardly believe how much my life has changed and that Liz, the woman who puts the word wicked into stepmother has completely vanished.