Breaking Faith was
published as a paperback 3 years ago and, on 24 October 2010, I published it as
an ebook through Smashwords and on Amazon Kindle. I'm now posting individual
chapters here on the blog, so that anyone who wishes can read the book in full
and free of charge.
The Prologue was posted on
6 January. Here's a link, if you missed it: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
.
Chapter 1 was posted on 13
January and the link can be found in the archive.
Read, enjoy, tell your
friends.
Just a word or guidance,
since you'll have read the previous chapter a week ago. The book is written
from the viewpoints of the two main protagonists and each takes a full chapter,
narrating in first person. So, last week was Leigh's point of view, this week
Faith tells part of the tale. It continues in this way throughout, but
sometimes one of the characters will tell the tale in a couple of chapters in a
row.
Chapter 2
I crossed pristine snow on
the village green to use the phone box for the first time in my life and
trembled with more than just cold. Mrs Greenhough, cosy in her post office
stores, might have let me use her phone but Father called her the village
gossip and it was not worth the risk.
I followed the scratched and faded instructions
and dialled the number, taken from a card in the post office window. The
ringing tone stopped and I heard his voice for the first time, and felt an
unexpected and disturbing tingle at its deep, musical quality.
A relief map of the local area stood next to the
phone box to show tourists the walks. Fortunately, someone had scribbled ‘House
of Sin’, in bright red felt tip on the map; otherwise I would not have known
how to find Longhouse.
Four miles from the village; it took me less time
to cross unknown fields of snow than I planned. Better early than late. Though,
with feet and fingers numb from cold, I could have done without the wait.
Father’s watch, leant so I would not be late for my job at the Dairy, showed I
still had a few minutes before the interview.
Curiosity, and a sense of mission; to save
Leighton Longshaw’s wicked soul, took me to Longhouse. The inevitable
punishment from Father, if I returned home without a job, after walking out of
the Dairy earlier that morning, had only a little to do with it.
I ploughed through deep drifts that lay against
blackthorn hedges lining the steep lane. Fresh snow worked its way into worn
shoes Father had bought from a jumble sale, joining slush already soaking my
socks. Near the white five-bar gate, I considered running back home to face the
belt. Better the devil you know….
On the gatepost, a sign warned ‘Beware’ above a
blue and white glazed tile of a man chasing a woman. I had never seen a man
without his clothes and, although I should have turned away, I was fascinated.
Father often saw Hope and me undressed but I had not seen him, of course. A
man, being forged in the image of God, must preserve some mystery.
I wondered if they all looked like that; if I got
the job, I would soon know.
The long, old house crowned the soft curve of the
hill, its three entrance doors facing me. The left one seemed to lead to a
workshop or garage with a stone arch over closed double doors beside it. The
right, with its deeply carved panels polished by time and use, had to be the
main entrance. The plain centre door opened as I looked and a man, aged
somewhere between twenty-five and forty, poked his head out and beckoned me in.
I drew breath sharply; this danger might overwhelm
me, if I let it, and that was enough to make me enter. I closed the gate,
crossed the space rutted only by one set of car tyres, and turned to find his
deep-set eyes gazing into mine with a directness I had not met before.
‘Step on it, love. Ma’ll have my balls if I leave
this door open much longer.’
Ma? Of course, Mrs. Hodge, his housekeeper;
respected by everyone, in spite of all the dreadful things they said about
Longhouse. I would be safe with her in the house. Though safe from what, I had
no real idea. And I was not at all sure what his balls, whatever they were, had
to do with it. He opened the door wider so I could step inside and the bright
colours of his patterned shirt assailed my eyes.
‘No further in your shoes, love. Can’t have wet
footprints all over Ma’s polished floor.’ He closed the door behind me. The
trap snapped shut as I knelt uncertain on coarse cocoanut matting with
‘Welcome’ written on it.
My fingers were numb and the knots in my frozen
laces almost defeated me. By the time I had them untied, the heat inside the
room was overpowering. I got up too quickly as he offered to help with my coat.
His next words made no sense through a loud buzzing in my head. My skin felt
wet and cold. The walls swayed in and out of focus, as if they might fall in on
me. Abruptly, everything went black.
Brightness, like white unbroken snow, made me
squint; a fine black line cracking its surface as my eyes focussed. My face was
too warm on one side and the ground hard but smooth beneath me. I heard the
murmur of voices at the same time as I realized I was on my back. A second
later, I knew where I was and that my feet were in the air, naked as my knees.
‘Steady. Steady, love. You’re safe.’ The voice
made me tingle, again.
‘She’s concerned she’s decent.’ Mrs Hodge moved
into my field of view. ‘Don’t worry, lass, no-one can see your unmentionables.’
The fold of skirt between my legs reassured me he
could see no more than my knees and lower limbs, though that was bad enough. He
held my bare feet in his hands, massaging them so that a dull, hot ache flowed
through the flesh to offset the surprising pleasure of his skin on mine.
‘Stay there. No one’s going to harm you and you’re
safer on your back than standing, for the moment.’
I must do as he said, though Father would punish
me for this pleasure I could not help but feel. I turned to face the source of
heat and saw flames flickering round thick logs in a large, black grate. His
feet were in view, pale skin visible between the dark leather straps of his
sandals. Blue, shaped inserts with embroidered flowers of gold, red and violet
widened the bottoms of the legs of his pale khaki, denim jeans.
‘Fainted, love.’ Mrs Hodge frowned down at me.
‘Fainted with the heat after the snow.’ She spoke slowly and loudly, as if I
might be deaf, or stupid, like so many others did.
‘Thank you, Mrs Hodge, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t
usually fall over when I meet people.’
‘Don’t worry on my account, love. Women fall at my
feet all the time.’
‘Bighead.’ Mrs Hodge accused him.
Father held women inferior to men but I had seen
them behave almost as equals at the Dairy. It was good to know that, in this
house of sin, women were able to speak their minds.
Mrs Hodge squinted down at me. ‘You all right,
love?’
‘I’ll be fine if you’ll help me to my feet and let
me sit for a bit, thank you.’
Her look of confusion deepened.
‘Told you.’ The man smiled back down at me with
satisfaction. ‘Sure you’re ready to be upright?’
‘I’d feel happier perpendicular than prone, now my
brain’s recovered its circulation, thank you.’
Mrs Hodge looked utterly flummoxed but helped me
to my feet and guided me to a wooden chair in front of the desk. ‘It’s no good,
love; I’ve got to know. You are Faith Heacham, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry about that. I normally just say
hello, you know.’
The man grinned and held out his hand. ‘Leighton
Longshaw; pleased to meet you, Miss Heacham, or is it Faith?’
I took his hand. It was warm, dry and firm. At the
Dairy, I had started with Father’s formal approach but quickly learned most
people preferred first names. ‘Faith.’
He held my hand for what seemed a long time and
only let go when a slight frown crossed his brow. ‘Coffee or tea, Faith? Or
something stronger?’
‘What are you having, Mr Longshaw?’
‘Call me Leigh, everybody does. “Mister” makes me
feel a hundred.’
‘And he’s only ninety-eight, you know.’
I saw a twinkle in Mrs Hodge’s eye and, starting
to understand some of the humour I had heard at the Dairy, wondered if I should
risk joining in. The way she spoke to the man made me bold. ‘I can’t believe
that, Mrs Hodge. I wouldn’t have thought Leigh was that old.’ She looked at me
expectantly and I dared the rest. ‘No, not a day over eighty-nine.’
They both laughed and the look that passed between
Leigh and his housekeeper showed me I had been right to try.
‘I’ll get the coffee.’ Mrs Hodge left, shaking her
head.
‘Ma thought you were…, your reputation, you know?’
‘Reputations, Leigh. I suspect, and hope with all
my heart, that you know more than most folk just how false they can be.’
###
Of course, whilst I want you
to read the book, it would be even better if you bought it. So, if you can't
wait until next week's instalment, check the links below, which will take you
to a place you can make your purchase, either as paperback or ebook, depending
on your preference.
Sample or buy as any format Ebook: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/stuartaken
Barnes & Noble - Nook: http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Breaking-Faith/Stuart-Aken/e/2940011126079
Barnes & Noble - Nook: http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Breaking-Faith/Stuart-Aken/e/2940011126079
Amazon paperback or Kindle To buy from USA Amazon
Amazon paperback or Kindle To buy from UK Amazon
Apple idevice:
United Kingdom: http://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/isbn9781849233149
Web site: http://stuartaken.co.uk
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