Chapter 1
Pulling into the crowded car park, Adira Summers squeezed into the tight space. With a heavy heart, she turned her mobile phone on. Immediately it bleeped into life with dozens of messages, as she’d fully expected. The first one being from her irate boss.
‘Where RU?!’ he’d blasted. The tone of his text matched him completely – oozing derision and impatience. Adira stared at the message for a moment.Where am I? Good question, she thought bleakly, looking out of the car window, still reluctant to open the door and get out.
It was raining. The sky was filled with metal-grey clouds, refusing any glimmer of light. Talk about symbolic. There didn’t seem to be any glimmer of light in her life at the moment.
Being a successful barrister and earning a decent wage had originally been her main goal in life. As a student studying law at Oxford, her ultimate ambition had been to achieve what she had strived so hard for. And now she had it… well, it still left her wanting. The problem was, Adira didn’t know what shedidwant.
Still staring glumly out of the window, she realised what shedidn’twant. To be here, stuck in this car park, stuck in this city and stuck in this job, she concluded closing her eyes.
Her phone rang. Willing herself to focus, she answered as brightly as she could muster.
‘Hi Richard, I’ll be there in five, horrendous traffic,’ she lied.
‘The meeting’s about to start, Adira,’ he stated flatly. ‘It would be good if you could make it,’ he added with sarcasm.
She chose to ignore him and just tapped to end the call. Taking a deep breath, she collected her bag and ran through the rain into the red-bricked building displaying the impressive sign ‘Goldgate Chambers’ in mirrored lettering. The chambers had been standing in Goldgate Square for decades, with its pretty, cobbled pathways and artisan shops. It had a deli to die for, a sweet, little bakery and a wine bar named ‘Mario’s’, which the barristers from Goldgate Chambers often frequented. In short, Goldgate Square was a hip, vibrant place to be, tucked away in the leafy quarters of North London. Adira’s friends envied her place of work; they envied her lifestyle even more. Living and working in London, mixing with the high-flyers, rubbing shoulders with the elite, left them feeling deflated in comparison to their own rather dull lives of nappy changing and play-dates. Adira couldn’t see it. To her, the shine had well and truly worn off. Yes, at first it had been a whirl of rich clients, cocktail parties and Law Society dinners. She’d meet celebrities (either suing or divorcing), millionaires, and even royalty once, but nowadays even that didn’t impress her. She’d seen it, done it and grown out of the T-shirt.
Walking towards the lift, Adira composed herself. The last thing she wanted was to appear flustered. In this job, image was everything. Cool and sophisticated, intelligent and competent, that’s what her clients paid for. Entering the room with her shoulders back, she smiled with an air of confidence.
‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,’ she spoke clearly and swiftly took her seat. Luckily, they were still chatting over coffee. Richard had obviously delayed all present for as long as possible.
With a warning look, he coughed quietly. ‘Well, shall we begin?’ He gave his most beguiling smile, making Adira cringe. Buffoon.
After a long and laborious meeting, Adira escaped for lunch. In desperate need of a drink, she walked past the deli and straight into Mario’s.
‘A large Sauvignon Blanc please, Mario.’ She stood at the bar. It was fairly quiet, with only half of the tables taken. Mario was the Italian owner and had often chatted to Adira, another one finding her work interesting.
‘So, how’s your morning been?’ He passed over her much-needed glass of wine.
‘Bloody awful actually.’ Adira took a long sip. Hell, that was good. Her stomach rumbled. Just the one drink, then food, she told herself. On reflection, she was telling herself that quite a lot these days, ‘just the one drink’. A warning bell faintly rang inside.
‘You look tired, Adira.’ Mario looked genuinely concerned. She loved the way he said her name, making her sound exotic. Adira was of Hebrew origin and meant ‘strong’, as her gran was always telling her. Deliberately named so, after being prematurely born at seven months and fighting for survival. Her parents had willed her strength, peering into the glass incubator, gulping back the emotion as their tiny, fragile daughter lay wired up. All the hopes and prayers had paid off. Adira had come through, battling against the odds; she’d lived up to her name.
‘I feel tired,’ she replied wearily.
‘Bella, Bella, that’s no way to be,’ Mario shook his head sadly.
‘I know,’ Adira swigged back another mouthful of wine, ‘it isn’t.’
The weekend couldn’t come quick enough for Adira. Stretching languidly in her bed on a sunny Saturday morning, she contemplated what to do with a whole free day in front of her. Normally she would catch up on work, read through briefs and make copious notes, but not today. The bright sunshine was too inviting to be cooped up indoors.
Adira had a sudden impulse to see her gran. Maybe subconsciously it was the radiant spring weather that had prompted her. Edie Wilde had always been the ‘cool’ grandma of the family. Whereas other grandmothers fitted nicely into the archetypical peg of grey hair, support tights and knitting, Edie was way outside the box.Bohemianwas how she liked to be described,embarrassingis what her daughter, Cleo, often called her. It amazed Adira how her gran could have given birth to such a complete opposite to herself. Whereas Edie was flamboyant, quirky and had a passion for adventure, Cleo was pragmatic, logical and very matter-of-fact. Interestingly though, they had both studied medicine – well, in a fashion. While Cleo was a qualified GP, Edie had ventured into natural healing, believing nature always provided. Since being a tiny girl, Adira could remember how friends and neighbours and anyone recommended would call on gran for advice to aid an illness, much to Cleo’s personal and professional chagrin. Edie would always be there to help, on hand with her vast experience and herbal encyclopaedia, mixing up some potion or another. Invariably, they worked. Headaches were eased by lavender balm, rashes vanished with Aloe vera gel, insomnia cured by chamomile tea, the list was endless.
Adira had loved staying at her gran’s. Edie had converted her potting shed into a studio where she saw her patients. It was packed to the rafters with shelves holding multicoloured bottles containing herb extracts and oils. It seemed almost magical to Adira as a child; her eyes would scan the small, wooden room, taking everything in. Edie was also a massage therapist – something else Adira had admired, so much so that she herself had undertaken the necessary qualifications to train and become one as a teenager. This had allowed Adira an escape almost from the relentless studying her mother had pressurised her into. Cleo hadn’t approved of her daughter wasting valuable time learning how to rub oils and goodness knows what into people’s bodies. It all seemed ridiculous to her, especially when there were top A level grades to be gained and a place at Oxford university on the horizon. Yet Adira had fully benefited from the instant relief her gran’s healing hands had given her during stressful times, like taking exams. Edie would knead out all the tense knots in her back and calm her aching muscles. It was pure heaven. Just the smell of basil and ginger oil being rubbed into her body was enough to still her.
What she wouldn’t give for that now, she thought as she packed an overnight bag. Having rung her gran to arrange a visit, Edie had been delighted and suggested she stay the night too. Why not? Adira had replied, suddenly desperate to escape to the tranquillity of her gran’s quaint village. Situated just outside Oxford, she had often taken refuge there whilst studying at university.
By early afternoon, her Mini Cooper pulled into her gran’s driveway. There was Edie, stood at the front door waving, making Adira’s heart swell with love. Where would she be without this wonderful woman who always managed to inject life into her?
‘Hi love, had a good journey?’
‘Fine thanks. Could do with a cuppa,’ Adira laughed, grabbing her overnight bag and walking into her gran’s open arms.
‘How’s my girl?’ Edie pulled back to take a good look at her granddaughter. ‘You look exhausted, Adira.’
‘I know, so everyone keeps telling me,’ she replied drily.
