With her husband Roger and two beautiful children Amelia and Nate, Carmel Harrington lives a pretty idyllic life in Ireland, full of stories, songs, hide and seek, Mickey Mouse, walks on the beach, tickles, kisses, chocolate treats and, most of all, abundant love. To make life even more perfect, she has now fulfilled a lifetime ambition to be a writer as she is both a published author and a playwright. Her debut novel, Beyond Grace’s Rainbow, was awarded Romantic eBook of the Year 2013 at the Festival of Romantic Fiction and Kindle Book of the Year 2013 with the Peoples Book Awards.
Carmel has also written features for The Irish Independent, The Daily Mail, The Evening Herald and Womans Way.
For more information on Carmel, her writing, books and events, follow her on Twitter @happymrsh, join her on Facebook.com/happymrsh or visit her blog http://carmelharrington.com/.
This book is dedicated to my parents, Christina and Michael O’Grady.
They taught me how powerful words can be - both in written and oral form.
When I was a little girl, my mother introduced me to the magical world of libraries, and always read to us until we could do so ourselves. I have no doubt in my mind that my vivid imagination comes directly from my father, who is one in a long line of Irish storytellers. To this day he can tell a story like no other I know. For their love and support this book is for them.
I always say that I couldn’t do this, nor would I want to do this, without my husband Roger. His unfaltering belief in me sustains me and along with my children, Amelia and Nate, and my stepdaughter Eva, I am reminded every day how lucky I am to both love and be loved.
Thank you also to my mother-in-law Evelyn Harrington, who can always make me smile when she posts a letter to me, addressing it grandly to ‘Carmel Harrington, Author & Playwright’ and my siblings, Fiona & Michael, John & Fiona, Michelle & Anthony, Adrienne & George, Evelyn & Seamus and Leah, and all the nieces and nephews, Sheryl, Amy, Louis, Patrick & Matilda, who make our family wonderfully crazy and quite perfect!
To all my friends, I know how lucky I am to have you. I have too many to list, but special mention must be made to Tanya and Annie who helped with the early edits of The Life You Left. And Annie, my oldest friend, thanks for being ‘my person.’
Special thanks to all at Harper Impulse, Harper Collins and Harper 360, who work Trojan hours for their authors and I’m blessed to be one of them. I’d like to give a special mention to my editor Charlotte Ledger and Publishing Director Kimberly Young, who rumour has it, don’t sleep! I appreciate all the time you have given me and will always be grateful for your belief in me and know that I am in safe hands with you both. To my agent Tracy Brennan, of Trace Literary Agency, thank you for not only taking such good care of me, but for your friendship too. I look forward to many more ‘Thelma & Louise’ moments over the years.
A few months ago I ran a competition and the winner – Michelle McGuirk – won the chance to have a character in #TLYL named after her. I gave her the choice of whether she would like to be a goody or a baddie and I love that she chose to be bad to the bone! I hope you enjoy reading your namesake Michelle, it was a lot of fun writing her!
Finally, my last words here go to friends, readers & book reviewers who are all such loyal supporters of me and and my writing. Because of all of you, I get to follow my dream and I’ll always be grateful.
Ballyaislinn, Co. Wexford
<Inbox (2)
From: [email protected]
Subject: Sorry
Sarah, I’m not coming home tonight. Don’t try to find me or call my office, I’m taking some time out to get my head sorted. If I don’t get away, I’m not sure what I’ll do.
If you love me, you will give me the space I need.
Tell the children I love them and I’ll be in touch when I can.
Paul
Sarah blinked back tears, confused and disorientated by the email she had just opened. She didn’t understand. Those meagre sentences made absolutely no sense to her and mocked her by their cruelty.
She struggled to let the words sink in but no matter how many times she re-read the email, she could not fathom what was happening. She quickly hit re-dial on her husband’s mobile, knowing that it was a futile exercise. Yes, damn it, still going to voicemail. She checked the time; it was getting close to 10pm. She hadn’t worried at first when Paul didn’t appear home for dinner. She figured that he had a late meeting and had forgotten to tell her about it. But by 8pm she was worried and started to call him. His phone kept repeating the same infuriating message.
She ran through the mornings events once again in her mind. Paul had gotten up for work at his usual time, showered and dressed himself, whilst she got the children ready for school. Mornings were always frantic in their house with Sarah making the children their breakfast and school lunches and then dressing them in their uniforms. At some point in the mayhem, Paul would leave for the office, with a quick goodbye kiss for them all if they were lucky.
She supposed he had been quiet this morning, she didn’t recall him saying one word to her really, but then again he rarely did these days. She felt scared once again. What had she missed? Their lives had become so frantic – Sarah with the three children and Paul with work, it often felt like they were ships that passed in the night.
A flash of guilt overwhelmed her, almost suffocating her. How could she have been so blind to her husband’s distress? Had they drifted so far apart that she, his wife, would not notice her husband falling apart at the seams? So bad that he was having a breakdown of such magnitude that he needed to stay away from his family. An image of Paul in a psych ward popped into her head and she reeled from it, as it evoked a memory so painful it pierced her heart. She quickly threw that image from her mind and went back to this morning. Had he seemed any different when he kissed them all goodbye? She tried to be objective but no matter how much analysis she gave to their humdrum movements, she couldn’t pinpoint anything that should have alerted her to this email.
Paul had been his usual slightly moody self but nothing new there. Her stomach started to flip again and she started to pace the living room floor, feeling that somehow or other she was to blame for all of this.
She pondered his request that she not try to find him, but decided that it was impossible to obey. She had to at least try to talk to him, so she began ringing likely candidates that he might have confided in. She started with the obvious, his mother Rita.
‘Sarah here. Is Paul with you?’
‘No, I haven’t seen Paul since last Sunday when you all came for lunch.’ Rita replied. ‘What’s wrong?’
Sarah wasn’t sure how to answer that. She glanced at the email again and quickly decided