Stalkbook - The Prequel: Stalkbook, #2

By Pamela Turton

Meet Gilly, Dylan, Ro, Em, Freya and Milly. Six young people from different families, places and backgrounds at a turning point in their lives; about to start a new life as university students in the city of Mancaster.

Intriguing glimpses into their characters, passions and secrets give clues to their motives, the people and pasts which have shaped them. As they look forward to their new life, they do not know what to expect. Nor could they predict the shocking event which will shatter and change everything in it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pamela Turton
• Release date: May 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386672180

Pamela Turton

I was born into a large, loving family in North-West England. Following a convent school education, I entered a teaching career which spanned more than twenty years. During that time I developed an holistic, 'hands-on' approach to teaching, designed to complement a child's natural sense of curiosity and creativity; which helped earn me a place on the prestigious Science grasp programme in the USA. Around the same time I completed my Master's degree in Language, the Arts and Education. With a passion for writing, and my interest in Human Development expanding to incorporate NLP and EFT training, I've recently published a handbook of 'applied positive psychology', two collections of poetry and three novels, in addition to developing educational resources and writing blogs and articles. Enjoying travel, my streak of wanderlust has led me to live in the United States and Turkey. Now, I'm settled in the Peak National Park district,still close to my beloved birthplace of Manchester, with two lovely sons and a lively Lapp Hund.

Book preview

Summer 2014

Gilly

The morning after Magaluf. Christ, I don't know what I expected to see in the mirror but nothing as bad as that. At least the golden, post-holiday glow and toned body from all the activity to stave off the boredom, has been compensation for the more tedious aspects of going on my previous holidays with my parents. On my first jolly abroad with my mates, the closest I got to the sea or the pool was the nearest sun lounger I could throw my wrecked arse on, to catch up on the sleep I’d missed the night before. I couldn't even look at the water properly with shades on, let alone swim in it. Maybe I don’t look as rough as all that. I have caught the sun as they say. The problem is I look as if I've contracted jaundice as well, or something worse. Sack that. Don't go there Gilly boy. Think of something else. Take your mind off stuff. Taking my mind off stuff is probably something I've done too much of lately, with chemical assistance, which I can't do here early in the afternoon. Unlike Magaluf, which was part of the fun. And most of the problem, it has to be said.

At least Mum seems to have swallowed my story of having bad food poisoning on the last two days of the holiday. Man, that was a messy fortnight. I wonder if Mum and Dad would be up for a last-minute week away in Portugal, somewhere I can really chill out to restore my vital good looks and strength. I can always nip out for some nightlife and a pep-up, even though it might be moderate by Magaluf standards, which would probably do me no harm. I'll put it to them that I would really like to spend some quality time with them before I leave home. I can say that even though I'm not going to be too far away, I'll most likely be very busy with student life. I'll suggest Portugal too, for the golf courses, which will appeal to both of them. Mum has got massively into golf since Dad’s ship came in, as she likes to describe it. I’ll remind Dad that it won't cost all that much money to splash out either. Not that that should be an issue but it always is, in the first stage of all his transactions.

Actually, even putting aside the food poisoning, which was a massive bummer, going away with the guys wasn't all it was cracked up to be, I tell my parents before I begin to sell them my latest travel plans. It's not exactly the truth, but honest enough regarding the aftermath.

Alexander, please don’t use words like bummer, Mum says in what I call her Cheshire housewife voice. I want to laugh and tell her that that’s pretty genteel language by my standards. Best not.

I need some space from the guys after the holiday. I have to say I saw another side to all of them, and we had a few fall-outs. As far as I am concerned, the problem was a sense of humour failure on their part. To be honest, I can't really remember how any of the arguments started. Most of my memories of the party nights in Magaluf are surreal and slimy; neon colours, sweaty bare flesh, foam, paint and vomit. Carlos said I was the most despicable and disgusting idiot he had ever met, after I threw up on the kitchen floor while he was cooking some rice dish. Dean acted strangely with me from the start of the holiday, when he was delayed at Passport Control which I found hilarious. I told him it was because he looked like a twelve