She was striding out now, away from the city confines towards a spot in the normally lush , sweeping countryside which lay between Lichfield and Burntwood. Today though, freshly fallen snow crunched softly beneath her sturdy leather boots. The cold air of the morning was warmed only slightly by the winter sun which showed no sign of penetrating the two inch deep white carpet which covered the lanes and fields.
The briskness of her walk warming her more than the sun’s milky rays, she was glad to be free for a while, of the household she’d just left. A beautiful house, but from
within whose walls emanated a false morality, exuded an artificial righteousness and decency; that in its very existence created a parody of the elegance and grace it sought to exemplify.
But for now she was free, and within ten long minutes of someone who was beginning to shine like a halo in her world. They would say, no doubting, that at fifteen years old she was too young to speak of love.That two weeks in the lives of two young people was no more than a speck before their eyes. But though she’d never experienced it before, she knew it with all her heart, she felt it with every step she made, with every inhalation of the crisp air she breathed. It was genuine, and yet as magical as the snow clad fields. And he felt the same, she knew it.
She knew what he’d said that day, - that he’d called her Snowbird, but she hadn’t wanted to embarrass him.
It was sweet, what he’d said.
But the clouds on their horizon were as dark and thick as those that had brought all the snow. They were just two young people from two different backgrounds, from two families that would never allow themselves to bridge a gulf for their children’s’ sake. She might be just a child, as her father kept reminding her, but she knew that much.
And the new chauffeur, Fairbrother, it was plainly obvious why he’d been employed. He might be as thick as a board and she might outsmart him once, but she couldn’t do
so forever. It was simply luck that had sent him away with father today, but restriction would follow, she didn’t doubt it one little bit.
And what of Danny’s family ? she knew nothing of their way of life, only what she’d been told. In their company her confidence would melt like snow in the sun. She
had to face it, they both did, there was only one place they could meet, for a while before authority came crushing down on them like a roof fall in her father’s mine. The place she was headed for now. It was their special place, where nobody existed but themselves and which lay covered in a cold but snow white beauty.
Snowbird.
She liked that. She loved it.
She saw him from a distance, a solitary figure, something like an elf from where she was, hands in his pockets, with an old cloth cap on his head from where his dark curly
hair wrapped itself around its sides. She wondered how long he’d been there and whether the sight of her brought warmth to his veins the way it had when she’d spotted him.
I wrote this novel several years ago, I self published and never had it to sell. I have decided to rewrite it and hope to get it published within a few months for people to be able to buy. I had a few copies and gave them to a few family members and
Facing imprisonment in 2061’s dystopian Manhattan, Cori Christopher is given the opportunity to time travel to Occupied Paris in 1941 to try and save singer Noel Matheson, leader of the Cafe Violette Resistance, from Nazi destruction…and perhaps save
