Elle’s eyes widened. ‘Noah Jones.’
‘Stop teasing me! Now who is it really from?’
‘Noah Jones,’ she repeated, turning the phone towards Pippa so she could read the message.
Hi Elle, Do let me know if you enjoyed my latest book and I hope to catch up with you at the library on my tour :-) x
‘Look at Noah sliding into your DMs. Don’t try and tell me he doesn’t remember that kiss.’
Elle felt a smile hitch on her face and her heart leapt.
‘And there’s a kiss.’
The first thing Elle had spotted was the kiss.
‘If you want my input, Elle Cooper, he’s not coming to our library for Aiden’s sake. I think there is someone else he would prefer to see … he’s sent you aDM,’ Pippa emphasised.
Still staring at the DM, Elle turned Pippa’s words over in her mind, hoping that her theory was correct.
ChapterSixteen
It was four o’clock on Sunday morning, and Elle was wide awake.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t sleep. During the night she’d constantly been refreshing her emails in the hope that answers about her past would land. Pippa was right – she was becoming obsessive.
After tossing and turning for hours, Elle quietly pulled her body out of bed and silently padded down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
Waiting for the kettle to boil she noticed the writing competition leaflet sticking out of her bag. Looking over the leaflet and reading the criteria for entry, Elle realised she met every single one. She hadn’t written anything before or been published but she knew she had a lot to get off her chest. Maybe if she did write her life story down it would help her to feel a little more comfortable in her own skin, whilst inspiring others to realise that no matter how hard your background is, it’s down to you to make your life as happy and successful as possible. Even though Elle could put on a front to everyone around her – except Irene, who understood her perfectly – she knew she would never be truly happy until she had all the answers she needed about her biological parents.
After making a cup of tea, she took the leaflet into the living room and fired up her laptop. Reaching for a notepad, she wondered where to start. The thought of helping other children growing up in foster homes spurred her on.
With Irene’s words whirling around in her mind –Your story is a fantastic one. Against all odds, the girl did well– Elle found herself rereading the leaflet.
Irene was right – she’d overcome so many obstacles in her life and there were countless times she could have hit the self-destruct button and veered off the right path.
Thinking back to her early years, Elle remembered how she’d battled with crushing disappointment due to her lack of stability within a family unit. They say school days are the best time of your life – but not for Elle. She’d dreaded school plays, sports day and parents’ evenings. There was no one to watch her and no one interested enough to read her report cards. Also, she never had time to make friends before she was shipped off to somewhere new.
But during the last fifteen years, her confidence had slowly grown through hard work and determination. Her self-esteem flourished when Irene believed in her and encouraged her to read. Irene helped her understand that you could accomplish anything as long as you believed in yourself and whatever you put into life was what you were going to get back.
Looking at the notepad, Elle thought back to various author interviews she’d read in the past, where they’d talk about the inspiration behind their stories and how they wrote. They seemed to be divided into two camps – those who plotted, made wall charts and knew every twist and turn in their book before they put pen to paper, and those who flew by the seat of their pants. She was definitely a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type of girl, and the words from one author interview in particular – Noah Jones’s – had always stuck with her:Write from your gut.
Pushing the notepad to one side, Elle fired up her laptop, opened Word and stared at the blank screen in front of her before typing:My story: February 2nd, 1993 – where it all began.
Already feeling emotional, she blinked back tears. She swallowed as she struggled to think of an opening sentence. Eventually she abandoned the laptop.
She crept quietly back upstairs hoping not to wake Pippa. Pulling out the stool from underneath the dressing table in her room she stepped on it and grabbed a box from the top shelf of the wardrobe before sitting on the edge of the bed. With the box resting on her knees, she removed the lid. Lying inside was the shawl that had accompanied her through every foster home along with a rent card with Cora Hansley’s birth date and address, which was dated around the time Elle had been born. Elle had no idea where the card had even come from but along with the shawl it had survived every foster home. When she was eighteen, she’d travelled to the address but the trail ran cold. No-one knew of Cora Hansley.
Elle picked up the shawl and hugged it tight.
Burying her face in it, she inhaled the distinctive smell that lingered amongst the stitching. A smell she couldn’t describe or recognise. She thought back to how frightened she was as a child, when there was always a fear of the unknown future, never knowing where she would end up next. All she’d ever wanted was to be loved and feel a part of something. Taking the shawl back downstairs, Elle draped it over her knees and rested the laptop on top of it. Taking a deep breath, she murmured, ‘Write from your gut.Start at the beginning.’
She started to tap the keys frantically as words began to spill out onto the screen at a pace she couldn’t stop. Overcome with emotion, she felt tears flowing down her cheeks as her words turned into sentences and then paragraphs.
Before she knew it, she’d written over three thousand words. Glancing up at the clock, Elle was amazed to see it was fast approaching 7.30 a.m.
She began to read over what she’d written and couldn’t believe that staring back at her was a short story about her life.
She heard the creaking of the stairs just before Pippa breezed into the living room with a smile.
