beats per minute (37 page)

Knowledge had not helped the yearning. It was acute now as
it ever had been, tugging at her as she came to rest in front of the headstone;
curiously white and naked in the lush green of the graveyard. Helen O’Roarke,
it read.
Beloved mother.
1960-2010.

She had never missed her more.

Kneeling, Raegan brushed a stray piece of cherry blossom
from the stony top. She placed the lilies carefully at the point where she
imagined her mother’s hands to be below, resting atop one another in her closet
of cool earth.

‘Not just
lilies,
Mum,’ she
whispered, gesturing over her shoulder to Declan.
‘Daffodils
too.
All your favourites.’
Pressing her fingers
to her lips, she touched them lovingly to the ‘H’ of Helen. Then, never moving
her eyes from the stone, she beckoned Declan forward. He dropped the daffodils
down in a curiously clumsy gesture. Almost immediately, as if the ground were
made of hot coals, he tripped back.

Her hand slipped into his. She could feel his heart beating
distantly; slow and steady, despite the grief. It mirrored
her
own
.

‘You can speak. I think she hears us.’

 ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Declan mumbled.

‘Yes, you do.’

‘I don’t.’

With a comforting squeeze of his palm, she spoke the words
that were in his heart. ‘You want her to know that you miss her.
That you’ve always missed her.
  That you’re glad you
found her.’

The green eyes were wet and astonished. ‘How did you know?’

After they had been standing there for a long time, his
sister finally replied. The smile was more than a ghost this time round; it was
a beam.

‘Just did.’

Alex Mae lives in Cheltenham, writing copy by day and
fiction by night. She studied at the University of Cambridge, where she spent
most of her time acting and writing creatively when she should have been
working toward her English degree. Still, she graduated in one piece and even
won a prize from the English Faculty for one of her plays, so it all worked out
in the end.

After training as an actress at the Drama Centre, Alex
embarked on a brief – and rather uneventful! –
stint
of performing professionally, which made her realise that she would rather
write stories than be in them.

beats
per
minute 
is her first novel (though she
did compose a fairly epic story about the Backstreet Boys in her teenage
years).

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Where to
begin! There are many people that have been generous with their time and
various skills during the evolution of
bpm
; I have been very, very
lucky.

First of
all, Catherine Saunders, who worked tirelessly on the manuscript with me while she
was at Curtis
Brown.
Thank you for taking a chance on
me and for your diligence, wisdom and insight. If the book is in any kind of
shape, it’s because of you. Rebecca Pitt, for your fantastic graphic designs
and amazing efficiency – I can’t really believe that something with my writing
at its heart could look so beautiful, but that’s definitely a testament to your
skill and not mine. 
Tori, Holly, Bex, Megan, and Flora,
who all took the time to read and review, offering invaluable feedback and
guidance.
Hannah and Will, for endless support and
encouragement when I wanted to give up.
And everyone else who listened
to me bang on about this for the last few years (you know who you are). You are
all wonderful friends, thank you so very much.

There are
two special men that I could not have been without. Daniel, my big bro - the
title is yours (I’m working on the car). Thank you for always believing in me.
 And John: I couldn’t have finished the thing without you by my side. You
are my rock and I love you.

Finally,
to that powerhouse of a woman who is also known as my mum: as Teddy Roosevelt
might have said, you have always kept my eyes on the stars and my feet on the
ground. Plus you read the book and you hate fantasy. This one’s for you, Mummy.

Copyright
© Alex Mae 2014

First published 2014

The right of Alex Mae to be identified as
author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and
78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form
or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise
transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not
circulate this book in any format.

For more information on Alex Mae’s books,
including new releases and more, please visit:

www.alexmaebooks.com