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| About the Book |
When You Were Mine
One mistake could change their lives forever...
My life is a mess. My marriage is falling apart, and I’d hoped the arrival of our baby girl would bring us closer together. Yet, as she grows, I see less of a resemblance to my husband, stirring unsettling questions.
I was hoping a visit from my friend, Victoria would bring some stability. With her seemingly perfect life in Spain, she embodies hope for a brighter future.
But our reunion has taken an unexpected turn. And when a shock diagnosis shakes our family further, Victoria doesn’t know it yet, but she might just hold the key to saving our family.
But if I want her to help, a big secret has to come out. Revealing the truth risks everything – my marriage, our friendship, our families. Can we weather this storm, or will it shatter us beyond repair?
An emotional and powerful novel of motherhood, friendship and what family means to us all. Perfect for fans of Jodi Picoult and Susan Lewis.
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Author Bio
Born in Scotland, Emma-Claire travelled the world as the child of military parents. After almost 20 years in Spain, she returned to the UK with her husband, two daughters, and rescue dog, Pip. Emma-Claire worked as a journalist for English language magazines and newspapers in Spain and in 2015 launched The Glass House Online Magazine. When not writing emotional fiction, you can find her dreaming up new book ideas or wrapped in a blanket with a book in her hand. This is Emma's second novel. You can find her at @ECWilsonWriter on Twitter.
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| Read An Excerpt |
This extract is taken from when Nicole finds out that she’s pregnant.
Life isn’t exactly easy right now. Nicole had an affair, and as much as she is trying to work things out with her husband Andy, such a huge betrayal is not easy to overcome. With the news of a surprise baby, this could pull them together, or push them apart. They had always wanted another, but the timing never felt right, could now, when they are desperate to fix the cracks in their relationship, be the perfect time to introduce a saviour to their family?
FOUR
Nicole
Dundee – June 2019
Two blue lines. ‘Fuck!’
I stared at the inky stains and prayed my ageing eyes were deceiving me.
‘Fuck!’ No one could hear me, so I said it again.
Only that time I stared into the hollowed-out eyes that reflected back at me from the bathroom mirror, spots of toothpaste speckling the glass, creating ghost-like
freckles on the cheeks of the terrified woman staring back at me.
‘Fuck fuck fuck.’
I returned my attention to the piece of plastic shaking between my thumb and forefinger, my wedding ring glinting behind the plastic, but those two stubborn blue
lines still stared belligerently back at me.
I looked out of the bathroom window. The sun was setting in the distance and I watched as my husband leaned up against the gate post, waiting for the taxi to
arrive. The ‘almost’ summer sun had left a nice glow across his face, a pinkish tint to his cheeks. He always did suit a bit of a tan and with the summer holidays
creeping closer, I was looking forward to taking a break abroad maybe. Away from all the stress. Only, I hadn’t quite banked on any little complications.
I took one last quick glance at myself in the mirror.
The crow’s feet around my eyes always looked deeper and darker last thing at night, like they had given up the fight with gravity and finally revealed the true state of my face. As if I needed a reminder at the end of each day that my youth was slipping away from me.
The fine lines and wrinkles I can blame on age.
They’re genetic, I’m sure. The bags under my eyes, they were a different story – not sure I could blame them on age. They were down to the sleepless nights I caused
myself. No amount of cream would wipe away that visual reminder of guilt.
‘Fuck,’ I whispered, as I made my way down the corridor.
My body moved around our home as if pre-programmed.
I had all but finished loading the dishwasher before I even realised I had started, the daily grind and predictable routine so well ingrained.
It was Saturday, which normally meant ordering a takeaway, but money was tight, so I’d cooked stir-fry. We had money in the bank, but when Andy decided to
give up shifts on the rig, we agreed to live by a stricter budget so we didn’t burn through our savings.
It wasn’t an easy choice to make. I only hope he doesn’t grow to resent me for it. As well as everything else. He loved his job, but when your wife has an affair
while you’re locked on an oil rig in the middle of the North Sea, it’s hard to find the enthusiasm to leave her alone again.
I never meant for it to happen. I never intended to hurt him. The last few years had just been a blur, and with Andy spending more and more time on the rigs, I
fell into such an easy friendship with Max and things went too far. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Andy. I was just so goddamn lonely.
What started out as a drink or two after work slipped into dinner and drinks. Laughs. Giggles.
Companionship. Max had not long split with his wife and he just needed a friend. I was lonely, stressed, and bringing up a rambunctious young boy, mostly on my
own, while his father worked away. All I wanted at the end of a stressful day in the salon was to come home and offload to someone. But that someone was never
there. I would call him on the rig, but he was always around the lads. My mundane life and ‘nagging’ about stuff that needed to be fixed at home brought him down.
Looking back, I can understand why he was always so eager to hang up. I just wished he had understood how lonely it was to do life without him.
‘I just wish you hadn’t done it, Nic. Wish to God you hadn’t done it. I just don’t understand,’ he had said to me. With everyone else, he could pretend to be the big
bad alpha male, but I knew where his true heart lived. He couldn’t hide it from me. Even when he was angry and feeling betrayed, his huge loving heart stepped
forward before any other part of himself. It’s one of the many reasons I loved him, one of the many reasons why I still do.
‘For God’s sake Nicole,’ Kerri-Ann’s voice boomed through the speakers of my phone, perched on the windowsill of my kitchen as I fussed around. I could
hear her loading the dishwasher on the other side. Her fury at my complaining was being taken out on the glasses by the sounds of it.
‘Just book a holiday and bonk his brains out for a few days. You guys can fix this. If anyone can get through it, it’s you two.’
I loved Kerri-Ann. I’d always admired her honesty.
She had no filter, and no need for one. If ever I needed advice, it was never my brothers I lifted the phone to, it was always my cousin.
I reached into the fridge and retrieved a bottle of Chardonnay. It wasn’t until I had put the glass to my lips and my stomach lurched at the smell of the liquid that I remembered. Going ‘off wine’ was the hint I was pregnant with Ben the first time around, so it’s no surprise it was the same this time.
I tipped the wine down the sink and flicked on the kettle before trying to remember what it was Kerri-Ann was getting irate at me for.
‘Nic, did you hear me?’ Kerri-Ann was asking me, but I was staring at the withered teabag wobbling on myteaspoon. My hands shaking.
‘Sorry, yeah. Sorry. I’m here. It’s just . . .’ I stared at the calendar on the fridge. Dates marked in red for Ben’s football matches, doctor’s appointments in green and the tell-tale red dot where my period should have started. I’m distracted, trying to count back the days, flicking the paper back to last month and checking the scrawls that indicate Mark’s last trip offshore. The purple mark a week before his return that indicated the night of the local business awards. The night I messed
up.
It can’t be. We used protection. Andy and I hadn’t used anything a week later when he got home, so surely it was his. And the test said three to four weeks; my
night with Max was almost seven weeks ago.
I wasn’t planning on telling anyone, at least not until I’d been to the doctor’s. I wanted it confirmed, properly, and dated – before I told anyone. I couldn’t risk the
dates being wrong, and just how reliable are the box tests anyway. Until a doctor confirms it, I’m not sure I’ll believe it’s real.
‘Kez, I think I might be pregnant.’ I don’t know where the words came from. They just slipped out, like the devil pulling them from my brain before I gave
permission.
(note: Helen has not yet read the book herself)
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Website: https://helenhollick.net/
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