Page 3 of The Promise of Tomorrow
Her eyes narrowed.
Oh no! A sparkling object flew, out of nowhere, across the field.
Past the bonfire. Thank goodness it missed that man in the hi vis jacket and…
What? Now it… No… no, no, no! It was heading towards her.
A voice shouted, ‘Watch out!’
Too late. A thud. Pain. She went numb. The object had whacked her in the chest.
Elena gasped as a sense of panic sucked the breath from her lungs. Rory stared at her in horror. A firework had lodged itself in a gap at the front of her coat. As sparks continued to travel along the fuse to the firework’s main head, people screamed and backed away, dragging children by hands and dogs by leads.
2
ELENA
Elena’s mouth dried as spectators screamed. Her knees weakened, and she couldn’t blink. Holding his breath, jaw set in a determined line, Rory leant forwards. His fingers curled around the firework and he jiggled it, perspiration glistening on his forehead, despite the frosty air. For Elena it was as if time passed in slow motion.
Is Rory mad? He could die as well.
But please, please let him succeed. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
What if it goes off?
Oh Mum. Dad. I’m sorry. I’ll miss you both so much.
Have I lived my life to the full?
Or played it safe?
Since making that promise, years ago, have I squeezed the most out of every day?
Rory winced as the fuse touched his hand before… He did it! Rory dislodged the firework. Lifting it high, he turned around and lobbed it to the far left of the bonfire, an area cordoned off and free from bystanders. The crowd crouched down and waited. Nothing. No bang. No light. The loudest noise came from the right of the bonfire, from a group of shouting teenagers circled by adults.
Gulping now, spasms of raw emotion running through her chest, Elena looked down. The firework really was gone.
‘Let’s get inside. You’re shaking,’ said Rory.
‘Like your voice,’ she stuttered. They stared at each other and he leant forwards and… Oh. Rory embraced her firmly. But it felt… right. ‘I’ll… I’ll be fine, it’s just… shock,’ she said, and a tear rolled down her cheek as she pulled away. ‘You’re the one who’s injured. We need to get that burn seen to.’
Followed by pairs of sympathetic eyes, he put an arm around her shoulders and steered Elena into the pub. Rory was about to explain to the landlord what had happened, but Elena took over. Flustered, the landlord led them through the building filled with banter and the clink of beer glasses. It smelt of fried food, aftershave and hops, and Elena escaped gratefully into a private room out the back. In a hurry, he left them sitting on a small sofa, him muttering something about the cops. On the way out, he instructed one of his servers to make coffee.
‘It might have gone off in your face, Rory,’ she said in an unsteady tone.
‘But it didn’t.’
‘I can’t thank you enough. I owe you. Big time.’
‘Looks like Brandy and Snap can stay, then.’ He attempted a grin that didn’t arrive. ‘Only joking.’
‘You’ve earned them a home for the next few weeks. Seriously. You’re a hero.’
A lump rose in her throat and he didn’t know where to look. Some heroes wore capes, others dressed like bats, but her hero loved necklaces and jaunty baker boy hats. An uncomfortable sensation rose within her. She’d always been quietly scornful of his mad weekend adventures, his dramatic tales of base jumpingor navigating fast-moving rapids. But if it hadn’t been for his bold nature today, the freak accident could have ended in a much worse way.
Unable to push away the image in her head of the firework caught in her coat, Elena closed her eyes, as if hoping to bring the curtain down on a dire theatre show, but only managing to provoke an encore. In those seconds, the firework pressed against her chest, her life had played before her, like a documentary on fast-forward – not the things she’d done, but the things she’d hadn’t. Oh, she was always up for a night dancing or Bongo Bingo – even if, often, that was to avoid disappointing the rest of the crowd – and Elena happily took on the role of organising the staff’s social calendar. She wasn’t a hermit. However, she had never gone on an aeroplane to some tropical location. She’d told herself it was because she enjoyed holidaying in England so much. Was that really true? Because she loved hot weather and lying in the garden when the sun was out, but surely that was what the tropics were like too. She’d never smoked pot or got blind drunk as a youngster, like her friends, afraid of losing her senses and dropping her guard against… against the past coming back and seeking retribution. The wildest thing Elena had done in recent times was to have her long mouse-brown hair bobbed and dyed blonde. As her big birthday approached, it had become harder to push the thoughts away that she’d controlled for almost two decades and now threatened to burst out, like a Jack in the Box with an evil clown face. Those thoughts had filled her with a sense of dread and sent her to the hairdresser’s, on a whim, on a mission, to grab life by the hand and let it lead her where it wanted, and?—
Her eyes snapped open.
