EIGHT point EIGHT

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EIGHT point EIGHT

Chapter One

Twenty days before Christmas


I’ve read about how people react to getting a fateful phone call, but it means nothing until you get one yourself. Drained of all useful senses, I was desperate to sit down and yet no part of me would move. Dropping from my hand, the receiver clattered onto the kitchen floor as my whole being froze to immobility. I looked angrily at the wall-clock whose ticking seemed to have become excessively loud.

     “Mum? What is it?”

     I stared blankly at Penny. She was my eldest child, but for a moment I couldn’t even register who she was.

     I heard a faint voice coming from the block of grey plastic lying at my feet. I looked down at it wondering what exactly it was, still stunned from what I’d heard, unable to recognise the abandoned phone.

     Penny moved swiftly, picked up the phone and took over the conversation. I watched all colour drain from her face as she too heard the news. Her brother Matt, who was at present working in India on an aid project, was missing.

     My eldest son was unaccounted for.

     News of a catastrophic earthquake in the area was only just filtering out. “Put the news channel on Mum.”

     With a job to do I slid back into action, although still unable to speak. I watched the broadcast show scenes of utter carnage; dead bodies strewn across unrecognisable streets. Frantic people were scrambling over piles of smashed masonry, pulling at it with bare hands.

     “Did you gather that was Matt’s lot, Overseas Aid? They know no more than we can see on the TV, Mum. But they’ve promised to ring back when they hear more.” I felt light-headed and Penny’s voice seemed to have dropped to a whisper, barely audible above the sound of blood pounding in my ears. “We must stay strong for him.”

     Clutching my contorted face, I finally cried out, “Matt. He’s in there — under the rubble.” I was pointing dementedly at the ever-changing pictures. “He might be still alive; trapped.”

     “We don’t know that. He’s probably not even there. He may well be visiting an outlying village.” Penny’s quavering voice didn’t hide her fear. “All communications are down. We’ve got to believe he’s okay.” She guided me to the sofa and we sat huddled in each other’s arms, unable to take our eyes from the unfolding horror.

     “I’ve got to do something. Anything.” I jumped up, my voice shaky and strange. “Maybe I could fly out with the rescue teams.” The stark reality of it all had brought me back to life again. There must be some way that I could help; I’d spent a lifetime being there for my children. I stood stiff with determination. 

     “Mum, don’t.” Penny pulled me back down onto the sofa her gentle arms circling my shoulders. She brushed my damp hair away from my eyes. This was too much. At last, I crumbled into the tears that were inescapable.


Tauntingly my mobile yelled out its chirpy tune, bringing a new hammering in my chest. “Andy?” Andy was Matt’s younger brother. Had I heard the news? Was Matt still out there? “Andy, my love, we know nothing more than we’re hearing on the news. It’s terrifying. Please come home, we need to be together.” I could hear my strapping twenty-four-year-old crying. “Please, Andy. Don’t…” Trying to swallow a lump that had formed in my throat I could think of nothing soothing to say. Suddenly I caught sight of an emergency telephone number scrolling across the bottom of the screen. “I’ve got to go, Andy. There’s a number to ring. Come home.”


EIGHT point EIGHT is available from publicity@olympiapublishers.com - pamfish@ntlworld.com - Amazon - Waterstones



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