The Story of My Heart

The Story of My Heart

Margarita Felices

The Story of My Heart

A Books to Go Now Publication

Copyright
©
Margarita Felices
2012

Books to Go Now

For information on the cover illustration and design, contact [email protected]

First eBook Edition –September 2012

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

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Look for other stories by Margarita Felices

Novel

Judgement of Souls

and

Short Story

The Psychic

CHAPTER ONE

A few miles outside the busy city of Cardiff in South Wales, is the idyllic village of Cowbridge.  The village has grown since its meagre beginnings as a medieval market town, and is an exclusive haven for business people who enjoy their sense of achievement and privacy.  Most of the homes are built with stone fronts taken from the quarry a few miles down the road and timber beams are strategically placed to decorate the front fascia’s of the lavish five and six bedroom houses—giving them an almost mock-Tudor look. They are set back in lush, immaculately sculptured front gardens. The village also contains centuries-old thatched cottages situated off the main road, giving the tranquil village the most perfect picture postcard setting.  But not all the homes are as expensive as those of their neighbours.  A little further away from those large houses and towards the backend of the exclusive community, stands a row of smaller miner’s cottages.

At the end of the row of cottages is a pretty three bedroom home with a minimal front garden.

Megan Davies sat in her kitchen staring at the flyer that came through her letterbox that morning. In her mid-thirties, with a slender build, she pushed her medium brown, shoulder-length hair behind her ears, sipped her tea and perused the A5 colour flyer advertising a carnival in the nearby park.  Her attention was particularly taken by the picture of its owner and what was printed underneath:
Dave Roberts & Co. presents a Carnival Spectacular.

Megan stared into the distance. It wasn’t called that when the carnival came to the village eighteen years ago.  Back then, it belonged to a real rogue called Ralph White, and Dave Roberts worked for him.  

“Coo-eey!” The back door opened and Gwen poked her head around bringing Megan out of her daydream.  “You decent?” she joked. “You look miles away; you haven’t got a man tucked away in here all to yourself have you?”   Gwen had been Megan’s neighbour for the last five years.  They hit it off straight away, sharing secrets about their husbands and the life they used to have before getting married.   There was a ten year age gap between them. Gwen was close to fifty, although she acted as if she was in her twenties when they were out together.  Gwen liked to wear designer clothing whereas Megan was happy to scruff around in a pair of supermarket jeans and a shirt.  And even though the pair looked quite unconventional, over the years, they had got quite close and shared many secrets—mostly Gwen’s.

Megan smiled as she held the teacup in her hands. “I wish…” She said with a smile. “Sorry Gwen, I was miles away.”

Gwen looked down at the flyer. “Oh, you’ve seen it.  I can’t believe it. I haven’t been to a carnival like it in donkey’s years.”  She walked over to the kettle and switched it on. “Do you want a refill?”

“No, I’m okay” said Megan, “this one’s still hot.”

“Are you on your own?” asked Gwen.

Megan was still thinking about the flyer.  She looked over at Gwen. “I used to know him, the person who owns the carnival now.”

Gwen poured her tea and sat down in front of Megan, smiling inquisitively. “Oh, Mr. Gorgeous. He caught my eye as well.  So, how
well
did you know him?”
 
“Oh, you won’t be interested in the story. It’s something I haven’t thought about in years.” She stood up and turned from the table. “Shall I get us something stronger?”

“Oh dear God. For you to break out the hard stuff, and it’s not even midday, there
is
something to tell.” She raised an eyebrow and made herself comfortable on the kitchen stool. “Come on, what did you and Mr. Gorgeous get up to when you knew him?”

Megan sighed. She’d buried the story so far back in her heart, it made her nervous to bring it all back up in case it reduced her to the same wreck she had been back then.  She sat back on the stool and sighed deeply. Then looking at her friend, she began to tell the story.

“I remember it all so clearly.  I got engaged to John in February that year and we planned to get married in September. The carnival arrived in the village mid-August. I was nineteen when I met Dave—Mr. Gorgeous,” she smiled and winked at Gwen, “and he was twenty-three.  He had seen places and done things I could only dream about and around that time the carnival was one of the most exciting things to happen in the village in an awful long time.  Well, fun things like that just don’t come to small places like here—they rarely came to ours, anyway.”  She took a sip of tea and continued. “The posters went up weeks before they arrived. It was all people could talk about and when they drove through the village it was like a big colourful parade. They had trailers with animals, there was a lady on one of those trapeze type swings in one of the other trailers and clowns ran up and down the street squirting water at the kids—and at some adults. It was funny. Everyone came out to look.  I remember my friends and me racing over to the fields like children, to see where they would set up.” She sighed deeply remembering the colours and the smells so alien to her; remembering the sweet smell of the candyfloss turning and the bright lights that lit up the sky at night.  “And oh my God,” she took a deep breath, “I remember the first time I set eyes on Dave.  He was busy pounding metal stakes into the ground for the beer tents.  He had dark, wavy, shoulder-length hair, faded blue jeans and an open white shirt. It was a warm day and the shirt stuck to him, showing every muscle, every—” She paused again and took another sip of tea.  “Well, you get the picture.”

Gwen giggled. “Shagging gorgeous?”

Megan nodded in agreement.
“Imagine the muscle-bound men they stick on the front of those romantic books your sister likes; the ones who look like the bad boy gypsy or stable boy?”

“Not only can I imagine” agreed Gwen, “but I make sure I take those same images to bed with me some nights.” She winked.

“Well there you go.  Of course my parents put their feet down when I told them I was going when it opened.  Apparently, once you’re engaged you just don’t do that sort of thing.  I told them not to be silly; that all my friends were going, so I would be safe enough. But to be honest, all I was interested in was taking one more look at Dave.  When we got there, my friends Rhian and Beth dragged me around all the rides and played the games to win prizes, but I looked around to see where he was. I wanted one more glimpse.”

CHAPTER TWO

1982

Cowbridge Playing Fields

  Megan, Rhian and Beth arrived at the fairground just after seven in the evening. It was still very warm for that time of day. Megan’s face felt the heat as she watched her friends throwing hoops into a booth full of pegs that clearly would never going to hook on.  She tutted as her friends laughed and shouted at how close they got to winning. All she could think about was the man she’d seen earlier.   And then, there he was at the end of one of the rides, handsome and dangerous and already with three young women hanging on to his every word, giggling and twirling their hair with their fingers.

“Well we go to the other towns in the area and we thought we’d change a few routes, so here we are…”  He looked at one of the women, a very attractive blonde in a short skirt and a low-cut frilly blouse and smiled. “You can’t imagine how pleased I am to be here.”  He placed his arm around the blonde’s waist. “You know, I’ll need someone to show me around.” And off they went.

“Did you see that?” Megan asked her two friends.

Rhian turned in time to see him make off with the blonde. “Always was easy, that one.”

“She may as well not have bothered getting dressed for what she was wearing,” said Beth.

Megan huffed, “Well he didn’t waste much time did he? He hasn’t been in the village five minutes.”  She felt jealous and she hadn’t even spoken to him!

“That’s what these carnival people are like, Meg. All this lot want is a quick shag. They’re not as dependable as your John.”

“Boring, you mean” said Rhian.

“No” snapped Beth, “dependable. Which reminds me, when exactly will he be back? Is he going to do anything to help with this wedding or not? ‘Cause if I have to hear your mother complain one more time about this and that I’m going to scream.”

“Dependable?” smirked Rhian, “you were saying?

  “Oh shut up,” snapped Beth. “You’re just jealous.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I am. Jealous,” replied Rhian quickly. “Why should I be jealous? I’m getting out of this village soon.  You two will still be here in twenty year’s time wondering what exotic place I’m traveling to next.”

“Oh pardon me, Your Ladyship,” said Beth making a mock curtsy. “Bet you don’t even make it out of the country.”

“Oh come on,” Megan said, breaking up the pair, “let’s go and see if there’s anything left we haven’t ridden or lost our money on.”

The shooting range had a huge selection of gifts.  Guns weren’t really Megan’s choice. John tried to teach her how to handle one—mainly for her own protection.  The company he worked for offered him a new position but it would mean that at some point he’d have to be away for weeks at a time. He wanted to know she would be safe and could defend herself if there was ever an intruder in the house after they were married.  Megan often reminded him that they lived in the sticks and burglars would most likely target the posh houses down the road rather than rob any on their street.  Megan took the rifle and pointed at the row of ducks making their way across the target and fired, but the jolt of the shot caught her off balance and sent her flying two steps back and right into her mysterious stranger’s arms.

“You need to gently squeeze the trigger,” he said softly.  He placed his arms around her, wrapping his fingers around hers and took aim. “Ready?” he asked, then took the shot.  Not the best delivery into the target, but better than her effort.

“Thanks, I think I can handle it now,” Megan said, pulling out of his arms. She took aim again but could feel him behind her, his breath so close that she felt it on her neck. Before she took the shot, she turned back to him. “Here,” she said, handing him the rifle. “You take the last shot for me.”

He took the rifle and aimed.

“Good luck,” Megan told him, smiling.

And while he concentrated on hitting the target, Megan slipped away into the crowd and out of the carnival.

He hit the target!  Grinning, he turned to Megan. “There you go, that’s how to take the shot,” he said. She was gone!   He turned back to the stall holder. “Where did she go?”

The stall holder laughed. “Dunno Dave. You probably scared her off!”

“Nah,” said Dave, “I don’t think so.” He looked into the crowds. “Not to worry. I’m sure I’ll catch up with her again.

CHAPTER THREE

The following day, Dave stopped outside the village post office and looked at his reflection in the window.  He smoothed out his blue shirt and took a breath. Pushing the door to the post office open, he stepped inside and stood in the queue.

Megan wasn’t looking when it came to his turn to be served. 

“You know, it’s not polite to leave someone who wants to help you,” he said from behind the protective glass.

Megan looked up and saw Dave’s face smiling back at her. “Well I didn’t need your help.”

“You wanted to win, didn’t you?”

“Wouldn’t winning cut into your profits?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Perhaps” he said smiling. He leaned closer into the counter, “but then, I don’t own the carnival.”

“Is there something I can help you with?” asked Megan.

“Definitely,” he said smirking, “but for now I just wanted to come in and say hello.”

Megan looked behind him and noticed a queue was starting to form. “Well, you’ve said it. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, there are people behind you waiting to be served.”

He smiled at Megan then turned to see an elderly lady standing behind him. He bowed as though portraying a brave knight who was leaving his lady and gave her a cheeky wink as he made his way out of the post office.

  Two hours later, Megan finished her shift and made her way out of the post office shouting goodbye to the postmistress, Mrs. Evans.   As she turned the corner, Dave was standing there waiting.

“Do you work here most mornings?” he asked.

“Why are you still here?”

“I thought I’d let you buy me a coffee,” he replied

  “Really?” said Megan. “I’m busy. I don’t think so.”  She side-stepped by him to get past.

“Oh c’mon,” he said again, stepping in front of her and blocking her path, “let me buy you one.  I don’t bite. Honestly. You were going to the café anyway, weren’t you?  What harm can it do for me to sit with you?”

“How did you know I was going there?” asked Megan placing both hands on her hips.  “You have a nerve…”

“Well I saw you there yesterday, see. I was going to say hello then… but I lost my nerve.”

“So you just thought you’d stalk me instead, eh?” asked Megan.

“No,” he replied defensively, “I saw you go in there yesterday. The girl behind the counter brought you a drink without you having to ask, so I figured you’re a regular.”

“And how did you happen to be walking by at the same time?”

“I was going to the bank with the takings and I saw you go in.  I came out a bit earlier today so we could grab a coffee and chat.”

“Couldn’t you just ask one of the girls who hang around you all the time?” asked Megan. The cheek of him.

“And now who is spying on who?” he asked, grinning.

Megan sighed. “Oh come on then, but you’re buying.”

He smiled as they walked towards the cafe. “Sounds good to me.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Present Day

  Megan made herself another cup of tea and looked out of the kitchen window into her garden. She wore a faraway, dreamy look.

“Don’t stop there,” said Gwen.   “Did it lead to more than just a coffee.

Megan sighed and sat back on the stool. 
“It was amazing how well we got on. We liked the same things, we laughed at the same jokes. 
Dave and I saw each other every day from then on—not in public you understand, because whatever was going on, that still wouldn’t have been right.  But I still can’t believe how we got away with it.   It was almost three weeks to my wedding and I was seeing another man!   And with all the preparations being done around me, no one cared that I wasn’t there or that I showed little interest; they just put it down to wedding day nerves. I mean the dress was finished and fitted, the bridesmaids sorted, John had his suit and the mothers had taken charge, so really all that was left for me to do—and John for that matter—was turn up on time at the church.    Mind you, it didn’t help that around that time John’s job demanded he work three days before the event. It was laughable. I can’t imagine any young bride nowadays putting up with something like that.  But it made my meetings with Dave more bearable, because John wasn’t around, you see. I felt no guilt. It was strange, but I couldn’t have cared less…” She stopped, then said, “So why didn’t I leave when I had the chance?”  She whispered it as if trying to convince herself. Eighteen years of regret began to show on her face; her eyes semi-glazed. Would her life here been so different if she’d just—?   She looked at Gwen and smiled, “There are dozens of places to go on the outskirts of this village you know; places where you can be alone. Dave and I found a place.  There’s a small wooded area just to the west of the village. We were walking through it one day when Dave spotted some rocks right in the centre of it all. Walking around them, we noticed a cavern, just big enough for two people, and when we brought over bushes and branches, we could hide in it and no one could see us. It was our place.   Dave even carved our names into the rock.” She smiled shyly. “I know it’s still there; I go and visit it on occasions, when I’m at my lowest and when I want to go back in time.  I remember the last days of the carnival. It was mid-week and they had to be in Chester by Saturday, ready to go for Monday. My wedding was that Saturday. John’s company finally agreed to let him come home a week before the wedding rather than just three days before, but I’d hardly seen him. I wasn’t the only one who noticed that either. While changing for my
jaunt in the woods,
my mother came into my room, and started to chat…”