Kindle Edition
Amazon
Author Cherry-Ann Carew
Amazon.com
Category:
Mainstream
Publisher: CAC Publishing
ISBN-10: B005YI4UY
Type: Fiction
Pages: 318
Copyright: March 24, 2011
Price: $5.99 (eBook)
An Emotionally Charged Contemporary Fiction Novel, Rich In Detail And Riveting In Scope
What do you do when your perfect life is destroyed in an instant? In this touching, emotionally-thrilling fiction romance novel, readers are introduced to a memorable cast of characters going all out to overcome tragedy and despair and dig deep within their inner resources to rebuild their lives.
At just fifteen-years-old, Lavina Freeman crosses the pond to London, England, after a tragic car accident claimed the lives of her uncle and grandparents, who were also her caretakers. She is further tormented by the rejection of her mother, who abandoned her as a baby.
Fast forward thirteen years later and Lavina feels her life hangs in the balance, while she stifles in her marriage, raising three children--a girl and twin boys, yet clinging to the grandiose belief that she can follow her dream of becoming an author.
Lamyal Campbell fought his way out of a working class life, and becomes a successful entrepreneur. He is handsome, a man of the world and knows what he wants--to plant roots.
A blind date throws Lavina and Lamyal together and even though an affair of the heart is the last thing on her mind, from the moment their eyes meet, the temptation to be close to him overpowers her, leading her to tell lie after lie.
This engrossing contemporary adult romance tale is replete with emotion and offers challenges and thought provoking situations, as the lives of others entwine themselves with theirs.
The strength of the novel lies within its third-person account, though the book's core concerns rejection, dashed hopes, and the inner turmoil of the character caught in a tangle of unfortunate events. Most importantly, the story captures the struggle for independence, love and peace of mind. It expounds how the character deals with the dogged internal and external journey.
So, get comfy on a couch, settle in and prepare for a gripping adventure of romance and sex. As fiction novels go, you will get a window view into the world of all the characters. Before you know it, you will form an emotional bond with them and will burst with thirst for more of their story.
Whisper of Lies, is the first of a two-part sequel. To date, it has received 5-star reviews, voted 'Readers Favorite' and is a Global EBook Awards Finalist.
Excerpt
Chapter One
Lavina
August 1989 – Guyana, South America
She stared at the bodies’ win’ing with carnal indulgence in the carnival-like atmosphere as music blared from the huge speakers. The gyrations and the beat of the music caused a sudden throb beneath the pale azure and white charmeuse skirt she wore for the special occasion.
“Anneliese, the music, it tugs at your toes doesn’t it?”
Her feet stopped tapping as blood rushed to her face. She broke into a quick smile hoping her grandfather didn’t notice her gawking at the dancers.
He referred to her as Anneliese ever since—well, ever since forever, though everyone else called her Lavina, her first name. The way he enunciated it made her feel special and secured. It was that sense of security that carried her through fifteen years of her life.
“Why are you so quiet sweetheart? Are you missing Jeanie?” he asked standing up, extending his arms to her. The music changed to a slow rhythm and Papa loved to waltz.
“Oh, Papa, must we?”
“What? Are you embarrassed to dance with your granddaddy? Come, come,” he said feigning a hurt look.
She took his hands with reluctance. Yes, she felt lonely without her cousin, Jeanie, who was in the hospital after an operation to take out her appendix. But the truth was that Lavina wanted to be with Daniel; a boy she was secretly in love with.
“Liven up,” her grandfather jiggled her arms. “You can visit her again tomorrow.”
“I’m okay, Papa,” she lied, as she followed his lead. She was bored being the only teenager around.
“I know. I’m old and boring,” he chuckled.
Lavina was taken aback. She wondered if he could read her mind. “You are, but you’re still my favourite Papa,” she told him with a cheeky grin as he twirled her.
Papa was always happy with the world. Lavina never saw him angry or even heard him raise his voice in anger. Papa’s almost sixty years, showed only on his head of light-brown wavy hair, peppered with white. His strong, lean, muscular body was still firm with years of playing squash.
He stopped dancing and hugged her in acknowledgement of her attempt at humour.
Her loneliness dissipated in the safety of his embrace.
“I won’t torture you any longer my Anneliese, okay. No more dancing for now,” he teased as he released her. “Let us…” his words were left unsaid.
Lavina looked at him. His eyes sparkled as he nodded his head in the direction of the banquet table. She followed his gaze. He had caught sight of her grandmother—whom she called Mummy, walking beside a waitress who placed two platters on the table; one with devilled eggs, and the other with meatballs to add to the other finger food dishes. Lavina watched as Mummy cast her eyes over the array of foods.
It was her sixty-fifth birthday and retirement from the prestigious Bishops High School, and this was the second half of a surprise party Papa had planned for her a week later. The first was dinner at the private and exclusive Georgetown Club that was available only to members and special guests.
It was a formal sit down affair with select guests. Lavina had observed that her grandmother seemed pleased with Papa’s food selection, which consisted of a choice of the grilled tiger prawns on pineapple carpaccio, pumpkin soup and marinated ebony chicken in chilli pepper and garlic for starters.
The main course of Creole snapper fillet with mango and green peppercorn sauce and roast duck breast with honey and ginger, served with English and sweet potato mash, peas and rice, fried plantain and cassava, mixed leaf salad and a variety of other side dishes, were appreciated by everyone.
Lavina’s highlight was a small amount of wine when Papa made a special toast to Mummy.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, as she felt overwhelmed with love while observing her grandmother.
Though not tall, her posture was noble and elegant. Her Amerindian descent and honey-brown complexion gave her an exotic appearance. Long, jet-black hair with wisps of grey, hid the five years she held over Papa. She usually kept it swept up in a simple bun, and never failed to look dewy fresh. With Mummy, it was as if the tropical heat did not exist.
She was all for her garden and family. Mummy created horticultural poetry with flowers, and ensured their comfort and welfare in earnest. It never faltered. She did the cooking, though Mrs. Brenham came daily to clean and do the laundry. She was extremely adept with respect to food preparation, being a home economics teacher.
Mummy taught Lavina well. They were close, and more often than not, when they were together in the kitchen, they giggled as they made sugar cakes, vanilla fudge, or small round breads and loaves that they plaited. After they were baked, they inhaled the freshness and her grandmother would select a loaf, slice it into two halves, spread butter over it and they sunk their teeth into its warm softness.
“Ah, thank you Jesus for this, but God help my waistline,” Mummy would say. “Lavina, don’t think that because you are a spring chicken you can’t get fat.”
The two of them were a match made in culinary heaven. Being in the kitchen with her was one of the many charms in their relationship, and Lavina loved every moment of being with her grandmother at Haven, the detached two-story, whitewashed wooden house, with its open plantation shutters and beautiful front yard that was situated in the quiet city of Queenstown.
It was where the cool, Georgetown breeze, brushed against her skin, and flowed through her untied, waist length, curly hair, as she sat on the balcony. There, she read, sipped coconut water or tamarind juice, and munched on Mummy’s homemade cake of the day, surrounded by cascades of delicate flowers of every hue. They poured pungent perfumes in the air, which often drew admiration from passersby.
*****
Her grandfather tugged her arm and led her towards Mummy. Lavina saw the corners of his eyes crinkle from his low laughter, while exuding a touch of mischief. He encircled Mummy’s waist. Squeezing her body to him, he said, “You are too beautiful Joycee. If you ever leave me, I don’t know what I would do. I could not live without you, and why are you supervising the food? What am I paying the caterers for?”
Mummy laughed. “Never mind them and you would find someone to take care of you at the blink of an eye, you sly old dog.”
Lavina giggled. She loved when her grandparents bantered. She rolled her eyes when Papa planted a kiss on Mummy’s cheek and he added, “I would die without you.”
“I know,” she said pulling his arms from around her waist. “Now eat, both of you,” she commanded. “Where is Paul?”
Lavina looked toward the dancers searching for her uncle.
“He’s dancing with Mrs. Heinemann,” she told her grandmother, as a whiff of the delicacies reached her nostrils and she felt the urge to snack. As the evening wore on, finger food was laid out buffet style for the guests, which was no doubt why Mummy was inspecting the table.
“That woman is trouble. If you give her a chance she would seduce my son.”
Lavina giggled again and waved at her uncle as he glanced her way. She saw him bend his head and whispered into Mrs. Heinemann’s ear then made his way over to them.
Mummy’s youngest son, Paul, was a handsome man. When she was younger, Lavina decided she would marry him when she grew up. His light-brown eyes that held a mischievous twinkle, like Papa’s, were deeply set and evenly spaced above the bridge of his slim nose. His full lips, when curled into a devilish grin were appealing to all the girls who adored him. His clean-shaven chin accentuated his lower square jaw and his curly hair was dramatically full, and a little long. Lavina loved him very much.
Uncle Paul was like an older brother. He’d reprimand her when she was out of line, yet tickle her senseless when he was in a playful mood. Her favourite moments with him were when he bought mangoes--their favourite fruit--they sat on the back stairs and bit into it, sinking their teeth into the sweet, dense flesh. They laughed as the runny liquid dribbled across their chins, and licked the sweet juices that ran along their wrists.
Uncle Paul also helped her with homework and read the short stories she’d written, laughing at her wild imagination. “You’ll make a good writer one day, Lavina,” he told her.
“Ah, Joycee,” Papa said interrupting her thoughts, “Don’t speak like that in front of Anneliese,” he admonished her while pouring rum into a glass that he then swigged back.
“You’ve had too much to drink. Your face is flushed,” she told him.
“More food,” Paul said as he approached.
“You be careful with that woman,” Mummy turned and wagged her index finger at him.
Paul laughed. “You invited her. She’s your friend.”
“She’s no friend of mine. I could tell you a thing or two about her antics; her husband is your Papa’s friend, so he couldn’t very well invite him and not her, I suppose,” she told him in a haughty manner.
“I was only being sociable. She’s too old for me.”
“That may be so, but you’re not too old for her. Now eat,” she commanded and sashayed away from them.
Her grandfather gave her a playful wink.
“Come, let’s eat,” he told them, and in a louder voice so that Mummy could hear, he added, “She stuffs me like a pig. I’ve done nothing but eat, eat and eat.” At the same time, Papa took a meatball and shoved it into his mouth. He rolled his eyes in appreciation from its taste and grinned at her.
“You have room for more?” Paul asked him.
“Yes, boyo. Eat, eat,” her grandfather told him and popped another meatball into his mouth.
Lavina spent the next four hours picking at the food, dancing with Papa and following Paul around. Thereafter, though tired and sleepy, she helped pack the gifts into the boot of Paul’s car before they started the twenty-minute drive back to Haven.
She was asleep, nestled between her grandparents in the back seat when she felt a thud and heard an ear-splitting bang. She woke up days later in St. Joseph Mercy Hospital with fractured ribs, cuts and bruises and her head swathed in bandages.
*****
November 1989 – London, England
The plane touched down with several thuds then slid along the concrete surface and careened to a stop. Lavina sat bolt upright. A chill ran through her. Not from the temperature that was oddly warm and comfortable, but the kind that raises the hair on the back of one’s neck for no fathomable reason. What was that about? She shook it off and followed the other passengers off the plane towards customs.
An immigration officer checked her documents then told her to go to a separate room.
“What for?” she asked.
“It’s the medical examination room. Standard procedure.”
She followed the yellow line on the floor that led to the medical room, where, over the course of two-hours, a nurse gave her a medical examination and searched her head for lice, as if she were a disease-ridden animal. Lavina had never experienced anything like it and felt humiliated. When the nurse was satisfied that she had not brought any foreign objects into the country, she told her she was free to go.
Tired, hungry and annoyed, Lavina grabbed her luggage, stormed through the terminal and pushed her way through the door. She stood outside the passenger arrivals taking in gulps of cold air. She realized that she was not appropriately dressed for the autumn weather. Her light windbreaker was not at all adequate against the sharp afternoon wind. The murky clouds in the grey sky—there was not a shade of blue—told her she was a world away from the bright sunshine and openness to which she was accustomed. She shuddered and glanced around, but did not see a familiar face. Tears pricked her eyes and she wiped them with the back of her hand then on the thigh of her faded jeans. Lavina retraced her steps into the terminal and looked at the signs searching for the information desk.
“Lavina.”
She heard a familiar voice behind her, turned, and drew a sharp breath, as she looked into her uncle’s pale face. His smile was wide and his eyes conveyed pleasure at seeing her. He stood before her with a dark-grey coat thrown over his arm.
While much older, his startling resemblance to his brother, Paul, was profound, though he wore his hair shorter. Lavina had not noticed the acute likeness when he visited Guyana on occasion. His long, black, leather coat, over stonewashed, denim jeans fitted him well. It accentuated his height. She couldn’t speak and the tears spilled, as she felt as if something was slammed against her chest.
Lavina saw his smile vanish and he reached out and pulled her to him. His embrace was a comfort as he held her while she sobbed. When her breath returned to normal, he cupped her face, wiped away her tears with his thumbs and kissed her on both cheeks.
“Hi Uncle Robert,” she managed to say. She so wished he was her Uncle Paul.
“You okay now?” he asked.
Lavina saw pain in his eyes then he regained his composure and added, “What were they doing to you in there?”
She stepped back and looked past him. He was alone.
“All sorts of checks,” she told him with indifference. She didn’t quite feel up to going over the humiliation again. “Sorry you had to hang around.”
“No problem. I know they do checks and ask many questions when you come for an indefinite period, but they sure had you in there for a while. Anyway, welcome to England. It’s cold huh?” he said and placed the coat around her shoulders. “Your mother sent this for you. I’ll take that,” he offered, and reached for her suitcase.
“Thank you. Yes, it’s freezing.”
“November isn’t too bad. Wait until January or February,” he said as he led the way to the car park, “you’ll beg for some tropical sun during those months,” he added.
“Where is my—my mother?” she was curious.
He paused. “She’s at home. We’re heading there now. By the way, do you want a drink or something to eat before we head out? You must be starved.”
“No, I’m okay. Thanks,” she lied. She was ravenous.
She had cried the full hour plus plane journey to Trinidad after a sad goodbye to one of her mother’s sisters, Leah, and Jeanie, at the airport. Aunt Leah became her caretaker over the last few months and consoled her at the hospital when the news came that her grandparents and her uncle were dead. Lavina was the only survivor from both vehicles. Leaving them behind was hard. By the time she switched planes after an hour’s stop over, she fell asleep exhausted and missed lunch. Now, though she was hungry, she didn’t know why, but she was anxious to meet her mother.
“Are you sure? It’ll be a while before we get there. We’re heading right into the rush-hour traffic. My favourite time of the day,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.
“I'm sure.”
She settled into the seat of his Mitsubishi Lancer and pulled a face from its coldness.
“You’ll be warm in a minute,” Robert told her.
She snuggled further into the coat then was captured by the colors of wine gum red, burnt orange, grapefruit yellow and olive drab green trees that seemed to be everywhere. Lavina stretched her neck out like a peacock, admiring the beauty of openness, mesmerized by the picturesque trees and shrubs scattered throughout the suburban landscape. The falling leaves seem to offer every colour nature could produce; a British autumn she’d never imagined.
Large houses, some detached, burst into view then with one left turn there was a striking change. She stared at reddish, brick houses tightly aligned on narrow streets packed with residents’ cars, and fortified by leafless trees. Some of their naked, dead branches jabbed at the sky. Such a contrast she thought. She felt penned in and drew her neck in like a tortoise into its shell. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a familiar world.
As if forwarding a videotape, it was early morning in Lavina’s mind and the sunrise unfolded in the clouded sky, like the yellow of a ripe mango. Roosters crowed. Donkeys brayed and kiss-ka-dees disturbed the new dawn.
Fast forward and Lavina was sitting on the damp seawall with her legs dangling over sepia Atlantic waters, breathing in and tasting the salty sea air on her lips. Then she was jogging with Uncle Paul.
She saw their faces and heard Papa’s earthy, cheerful laughter as he read something amusing in the newspaper. He then read it aloud to Mummy, and she chuckled with amusement.
They were her family—her dead family. Moreover, she was sent away when she would have preferred to stay. Who had decided that anyway? It was never discussed. She was told, and she couldn’t remember by whom. Lavina felt a mixture of fear, guilt and loneliness and gasped a few sharp breaths. She squeezed her eyes tight.
The next thing she knew, her uncle was shaking her.
“We’re here sweetheart,” he told her.
Lavina shook her head and checked her watch. It was still set to Guyana time with a time difference of minus 5-hours. She calculated that she had been asleep for nearly an hour.
She slipped the band from her hair, ran her fingers through it, gathered it into a ponytail and replaced the band. She stepped out the car and shivered. The temperature had dropped and it was dark. She pulled the coat tight around her.
Her mother lived in one of those reddish brick houses she’d seen after leaving the airport. Lavina expected to walk into a tiny home, but the building was deceiving. Her step-father opened the door, shook Robert’s hand and said, “I bet you got stuck in traffic.” Before he could answer, he extended his arms to her.
“Hello Lavina. My, you’ve grown. You were what, six years old the last time I saw you? I’ve seen recent pictures, but I didn’t realize you were this tall.” He gave her a warm hug. “Come in, come in, and welcome to England,” he said.
He was not an attractive man. His physical frame was small. His hairline receded and his bulging eyes reminded her of a large frog. Nevertheless, he had a warm personality and kindness shone in his eyes.
He turned and walked through the hallway that was wide with a door to the right and steps leading to another level of the house. They stepped out of their shoes and followed him through the door that took them into a dining area.
Her mother sat at the dining table with Lavina’s twin half-brothers. One sat on her lap, while the other braced against her leg. It was a Kodak moment. To the left, was the kitchen, to the right of the dining area was a surprisingly large living room that was modestly furnished; immaculate, and smelled fresh.
“They’re here,” her step-father announced. “Robert, how about a drink,” he offered walking over to a large wooden globe.
“Thanks Richard, I could do with a stiff drink after that god-awful journey,” Robert said.
Her step-father lifted the cover revealing a selection of booze. He took out a bottle of 10-Year-Old XM Royal Gold rum.
“Lavina, would you like some juice sweetheart? I know your mother would like her usual Amaretto Cream Liqueur. Come on, don’t be a stranger, let me take your coats,” he offered. He replaced the bottle and walked toward them.
Robert took hers and handed both to him.
“Well, Louise, here’s your daughter safe and sound,” Robert told his sister.
“Hello Lavina.” Her mother greeted her without moving.
“Hello.”
Lavina walked over and kissed her mother’s cheek. She didn’t know what to call her. Her mother did not move. An uncomfortable silence followed. Lavina stared at the boys and then Robert said, “Meet your brothers.”
They seemed to come awake and moved toward her. “Are you our big sister?” one of them asked. They were identical. Lavina had never been in the presence of twins before and found them fascinating.
Being referred to as their sister sounded strange to Lavina. Though she knew of them and saw many photos, she was used to referring to herself as an only child.
She searched their faces for any similarities, and in an instant, her attention was drawn to their full lips. They shared that likeness; maybe the same shaped eyes or, perhaps it was their eyebrows. They had happy eyes, which at that moment expressed a hint of shyness—a characteristic of hers.
Her heart fluttered, as she felt a powerful connection. These were her blood brothers and she was their big sister. A feeling of kinship enveloped her, as she embraced the reality. A reality she had not given any thought to before.
“And which one are you?” she asked with a smile.
“I’m Dominic and he’s Anton. We’re eight.” Dominic said giggling and pointing to his brother. “You’re pretty,” he added.
“And you are both cute,” she said ruffling their curls.
They were gorgeous and she fell in love with them.
“Do you like my new car? Mummy bought it for me yesterday,” he held a metal matchbox car up for her to see.
“Come here,” Robert scooped him up. “Give your sister some breathing space you little imp,” he said with affection.
At least they’re happy to see me, unlike my mother.
After the introductions, Robert and her step-father lunged into conversation; her mother retreated into the kitchen. Lavina indulged her brother’s playfulness, while she observed her mother.
She had met her twice, the last time at the age of six for which she had no memory. Neither did she know the reason for her mother’s visit. Her only clue was the photos of them together. Papa and Mummy raised her after she abandoned her. The love Lavina had been given by them didn’t erase the abandonment. It hurt. Lavina didn’t understand it. Here was her mother, raising her two half-brothers, but Lavina had been abandoned.
She recalled that Jeanie had told her once that she overheard her mother, Aunt Leah, and Mummy discussing something about her never looking back since she left Lavina at six months and wouldn’t tell anyone whom her father was. Lavina didn’t care. Her mother and father were never in her life and she didn’t miss them; for a split second after Jeanie told her however, she felt like a castoff.
*****
Occasionally, Lavina had spoken to her mother on the phone; that was if she happened to answer the call. She vaguely remembered her, and that vagueness was only kept alive by photographs scattered throughout Haven. Once or twice, Mummy asked her if she wanted to go to England. Lavina did not. She loved her grandparents even though they used to irritate her sometimes with their strictness.
On occasion, she’d overhead Mummy whispering to Papa when they sat on the verandah that they should move to England.
“Guyana has gone to the dogs. I’m fed up with the political corruption and people fighting and killing each other all the time.”
And Papa answered, “No, Joycee. I’m a born Guyanese and I will die here.” Only the last time when Mummy reiterated her desire, there was an extended pause. Lavina’s head shot up from the book she was reading. She waited to hear the familiar words that she had already answered in her head. No sound came from Papa. The blood drained to her toes and her heart thumped. Then she heard, “No, Joycee. I’m a born Guyanese and I will die here.”
Lavina almost ran to hug him. She couldn’t bear the thought of him not being at Haven, in her life, and she didn’t want to go to England.
Now here she was.
*****
Not long after, her mother beckoned to Robert to join her in the kitchen. They spoke for a brief moment then she served dinner of baked potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, carrots, green peas and roasted chicken. The tasty meal appeased her hunger.
They engaged in idle conversation until Robert looked at her with concern and said almost under his breath, “You are welcome to stay with me Lavina.”
This invitation seemed strange to her. She assumed that she would be living with her mother. Lavina glanced at her through the uncomfortable silence that followed her uncle’s statement. Their eyes made contact, and for a split second her mother’s face contorted unattractively. The coldness in her eyes brought on an involuntary shiver, as Lavina realised that she was not wanted. Her mother had her nuclear family, and was, without shame, rejecting her yet again. Lavina could see that it would please her mother if she accepted Robert’s offer.
A wave of embarrassment overwhelmed her and her face grew hot. For the second time that day she felt humiliated.
Lavina didn’t like her mother. She was cold. Cold like the weather was outside. She could be pretty if she relaxed the muscles on her face, Lavina thought. Unlike Papa, whose toffee-colored skin was tanned from the tropical sunshine, hers was more like Mummy’s, though she had fine pores, good skin – Lavina had inherited that much from her. However, her clothes were dowdy and far too drab for a woman in her thirties. She appeared and acted much older for her age, which made her as unattractive as a field mouse. She was nothing like Mummy and Aunt Leah, who were always well put-together. Lavina made a mental note never to be so frumpy when she reached her thirties, or ever.
She hardly laughed, and in fact, seemed miserable. For a moment, Lavina felt sorry for her and thought perhaps she was prejudging. Except her mother’s actions was a mystery. Lavina felt discarded. She wanted to hop on a plane and return home, but England was home now.
After dessert of apple pie and custard, Robert looked at his watch and said, “Richard, Louise, thanks for dinner, I hate to eat and rush off. I think we’d better leave now though, it’s getting late, and you must be tired, Lavina.” He touched her shoulder.
“Yes, I am,” she said getting up. “Thank you for dinner.”
“You’re welcome any time Lavina, any time,” her step-father said getting up and hugging her.
Her mother didn’t intervene, neither did she get up to say goodbye nor walk them to the door. Lavina felt awkward. Should she hug her? She decided against it. Her mother made it crystal-clear with her body language that she didn’t want her to be a part of her family, or her life. Lavina hugged her brothers and turned with gratefulness to her uncle, having made her decision to move in with him.
The following day, before Lavina had unpacked, another one of her mother’s sisters, Reina, turned up and told her in no uncertain terms, “Get your things, you’re moving in with me.” Lavina had never met her until then. She bore a striking resemblance to Papa.
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