Sunshine & Tears

By Ruth O'Neill

Could you fight the demons that lie within? Sunshine & Tears is based on a true story.

After Rosie is stood up by ‘Jack the lad’ Jay, she agrees to go on a shopping trip with her sister Jackie. Rosie unexpectedly meets the man of her dreams, Garry. This starts a sequence of events that will change her life forever.

The young couple begin a fairy-tale romance, both looking forward to building an idyllic future together. But when financial and emotional difficulties threaten to tear them apart, shy naïve Rosie suddenly has to find the strength to keep everything together. Fuelled by alcohol, Garry turns into someone Rosie doesn’t recognise anymore.

Can Rosie help Garry and bring him back from the depths of despair and self-destruction? Their love had been deep and unconditional but will love alone be enough to give Garry and Rosie the future they had always longed for?

Romantic and heart breaking - Sunshine & Tears chronicles the destructive power that alcohol can have on people’s lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781326460600

Book preview

Sunshine & Tears

SUNSHINE & TEARS

by

Ruth O’Neill

Copyright

Copyright © Ruth O’Neill 2015

eBook Design by Rossendale Books: www.rossendalebooks.co.uk

eBook ISBN: 978-1-326-46060-0

This is a true story. Some names and identifying details have been

changed to protect the privacy of individuals.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Dedication

For Simon

~   PART ONE   ~   SUNSHINE

Chapter 1

I did not want to wake up. Waking up meant thinking, and I was perfectly happy not to do any of that. Sleep, feigned or not, can be a beautiful escape from reality. I sighed, knowing that at some point I would have to face the inevitable and open my eyes.

Reaching up to my face I rubbed the unfamiliar dampness from my cheeks. I must have been crying in my sleep. The realisation made me open my eyes and I stared at the ceiling of our little room for a few minutes, wondering just what it was about men that gave them such power.

Why did they always have to make you cry?

It just wasn’t fair. I raised my heavy head and turned towards my younger sister Jackie, glad that she was still in a Saturday morning stupor in the bed next to mine. Or so I thought.

What’s the matter with you? Jackie asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes."

Nothing, I snapped.

It was far too early for conversation in my opinion. All I wanted to do was to crawl back under the covers and be alone with my thoughts. Jackie, however, had other ideas.

How did it go last night, then? she asked.

I didn’t need to watch her face as she sat up and stared at me to know that she already knew the answer; I could hear it in her voice. Only eleven months my junior, Jackie and I could almost pass as twins. We had been very lucky, both inheriting our father’s olive skin, dark hair and sparkling green eyes. Jackie was a little shorter than me, but she too had the same slim frame as the rest of our family.

He didn’t show up, I told her, trying not to snivel. I stood for an hour in the cold, waiting.

Try as I might, I couldn’t contain how much that long, cold wait had hurt me. With each passing minute my hope that Jay was simply running late had trickled away, leaving me in its place a sort of hollow pain. Why had I been deemed unworthy of his time? I’d tried so hard to think of a reason, but the truth was there probably wasn’t a good one anyway.

Fresh tears coursed down my cheeks as I thought of his lovely blond hair, cheeky blue eyes and roguish smile. I’d sensed he was a bit of a Jack-the-Lad from the start, but his natural charisma had melted my heart. I’d really been looking forward to seeing him again. He had a reputation, that was sure enough, but I’d never dreamed he would stand me up.

Well, it’s his loss, Jackie said, trying to soothe my tears. You’re too good for him anyway.

Bless her, she always tried to make me feel better, even though it never works. She never gives up, and it’s one of the reasons I love her. This, however, was one of those times when I wished I had my own room – I wanted to cry over my broken heart in peace.

Jackie was having none of it.

It’s no good laying there and feeling sorry for yourself. I’m going to cheer you up and take your mind off him, Jackie declared, jumping out of bed, boisterous as ever. I could already tell she was excited about the plan forming in her head. She could barely sit still, delighted to share her ideas with me. Let’s catch the train to Bristol and go shopping. There’s nothing like a little retail therapy to make you feel better.

I don’t feel like it, I said at once, slumping down in bed. Anyway, my face must look hideous. The dried salt from my tears stung my skin, reminding me of just how much weeping I had done.

I thought back to the time when my mother cried all morning because she had neglected a payment on the home shopping catalogue. She had been convinced that the bailiffs were going to arrive and take everything we owned. Her face looking all red and puffy, as if she’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. I must have inherited this lovely trait, because I looked the same whenever I cried.

Not that my mother isn’t usually gorgeous. She is beautiful, inside and out. She has devoted her life to looking after us kids, making sure she was there when we needed her. I am of the firm opinion that there is no kinder woman in the world than my mother. I like to think I take after her in that way, too.

At eighteen, I’d lived in Bath my whole life, born in my parents’ bed. They named me Rosie, and in their eyes I was a ‘vision of beauty.’ I’ve always known that I wasn’t, however. The eldest of three sisters, sandwiched as we are, between our elder brother Lee and our younger brother Toby, I always felt that my sisters were more beautiful, though I never begrudged them a thing. Jackie and our younger sister Sophie have always been so full of life and of light. How could anyone compete with that?

Oh, come on Rosie, it’ll be fun! Jackie leapt onto my bed, making me bounce. It will be an adventure.

She was right about that, at least. We had never been to Bristol before, nor caught a train anywhere together without our parents; calling it an ‘adventure’ might be stretching it a little, but it could be fun. It would be a great way to take my mind off the two-faced Jay, at any rate.

Okay then, I said, stretching. You’ve talked me into it. Let’s do it!

I caught Jackie staring at me for a moment, astonished that I’d agreed so readily. I ignored her raised eyebrows. She thought I was a stick in the mud at times, and often told me so. What she didn’t know, though, was that it wasn’t fear or tradition holding me back, I just didn’t like to be impetuous.

Behaving like two excited school children, we started to plan our journey. We would catch the eleven thirty train from Bath Spa to Temple Meads and walk the twenty minutes it would take us to get to Broadmead Shopping Centre. The Centre couldn’t be that hard to find, and of course it would be sign-posted. We’d visit Topshop, one of my favourite fashion shops, do a little shopping for a new outfit and then treat ourselves to a pub lunch. Knowing Jackie, she’d probably want a drink to quench her thirst by then.

In our minds, we had planned the day to perfection, feeling more like explorers than a couple of young women out on a shopping trip. We set off, full of anticipation imagining how much more vibrant Bristol would be compared to Bath. I love Bath, the tiny city of my heart – after all, it is beautiful. Almost all the buildings are made of a light, golden sandstone quarried nearby. Some call it the City of Gold, and on a sunny afternoon, with the summer light glinting off the old buildings you can really see why. It’s nestled in a lush green valley in a picturesque corner in the Southwest of England. The quiet, genteel streets are crammed with Roman and Georgian architecture – a place to lose yourself in on a lazy afternoon, but not exciting enough for teenagers like us.

As soon as we arrived at the train station, we bought our bargain ‘Away Day’ tickets and boarded the train. It wasn’t quite as glamorous as we’d expected. I could have done without the rough nylon seats and dirty floors, but its appearance paled in comparison to the significance of the train. It was whisking us off on our adventure – I didn’t much care what it looked like.

We sat side by side, looking excitedly out of the window and willing the train to set off. Finally, the train groaned into life and crawled out of the station, taking us away from the familiar sights and sounds of Bath and quickly gathering speed.

I watched the landmarks I knew slide by the train, giving way to green fields, stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction. My happiness and excitement grew as each mile passed. Jackie had been right to suggest the trip out. I already felt so much better.

We pulled into Bristol just before midday, and the first thing that struck me was how grubby everything was. It was a far cry from the glamorous city we’d had in our heads. I stared at the ugly, grey office buildings opposite the train station, feeling a little underwhelmed. Of course, Bristol has its share of beautiful old buildings, but as first impressions go, the view from the train station that day was not spectacular. Suddenly Bath was looking a lot more exciting, not as boring as I thought it could be.

So, shopping first, then lunch? I asked, hoping Jackie had some idea of which way we should go.

Her first instinct was to turn right, following the steady stream of people leaving the station. We followed the everyday people of the city into a maze of streets and buildings.

Bristol was just as I imagined a busy city would be, with people rushing about their daily business, ignoring everyone they passed. There were men in suits, young mothers pushing children in buggies who were becoming restless, already fed up with the day.

We walked for what seemed like an age, scanning the street signs, road signs, buildings, anything, for any indication of where we were and which way to go. Tired and confused, we hadn’t come across one single sign to point us in the direction of the city centre. There was nothing to reassure us we were in the general vicinity of a shopping precinct, the buildings around us appearing to have more to do with business and industry, and it soon became obvious that we were lost.

Having no sense of direction anymore, we decided to try travelling in a straight line for a while in case it took us somewhere more promising. We no longer had any idea where the train station was. After ten more minutes – though it seemed much longer to us – we found ourselves outside a shabby, run-down pub. I squinted up at the sign: The Black Horse.

Jackie and I shared a look and shrugged. It was better than nothing. The prospect of a chance to freshen up and find someone to ask for directions drew us in through the door.

The pub was even dingier on the inside. We had a horrible moment of indecision on the threshold, not knowing what we might find inside, or whether the regulars would be friendly or hostile. We’d both heard stories about those pubs in remote areas where people gather in cliques and don’t admit outsiders, or pubs in dark parts of cities where a girl might walk in one door and never be seen again.

I bit my lip. Jackie was always telling me how pessimistic I was, so I forced myself to think it was a good idea – at the very least we could ask for directions. It wouldn’t take a minute, and then if the pub was a bit rough we could leave. I didn’t want one of my sister’s lectures right now.

The theme of shabbiness continued inside, with paint flaking from the door and a crack running up one of the windows. The bare floorboards were scuffed with a dense layer of grime, engraved with the footprints of the regulars. It stuck to my shoes slightly whenever I lifted a foot. The wallpaper was torn back on its edges, the curtains – once a pale green – permanently stained with tobacco smoke.

It needed a complete overhaul. I knew I wouldn’t be caught dead in the place if it was in Bath, but beggars can’t be choosers. I eyed up the two people in the gloomy interior: an old man with a lined, craggy face was nestled into a corner, peering into his pint as if searching for some hidden meaning in the pale amber liquid. A middle aged woman was sitting alone a few tables away, staring off into space. Neither inspired much confidence in me.

I turned my head towards a noise coming from the other end of the pub. Two men were playing darts. One of them looked a lot like a biker: his brown hair was cropped short and his leather jacket kind of creaked when he moved his stocky frame. Soft brown eyes looked out from an angular, knowing face.

His friend, though, was gorgeous. I couldn’t help but stare at him. His magnetic blue eyes and fine, light brown hair made him stand out. He wasn’t that tall, well shy of six foot, I guessed, with a pleasant, muscular build. In the grubby, unattractive pub he looked surreal and out of place, like an angel who had lost his way.

He looked over at me, eyes alive with curiosity, and gave me a shy smile. Encouraged, I smiled back and then turned away. The two men continued their game, apparently enjoying having two young women in their territory.

Jackie and I began to flirt a little, giggling. We pretended to be having fun and were delighted to discover that this kept their attention on us. Suddenly the pub began to look a lot more promising. After consuming a couple of drinks, our confidence grew and we began to cheer when the blue eyed angel got a double top, setting him on the way to winning the game.

Our encouragement elicited a radiant smile from our favourite each time we cheered, and I started to get that tingling feeling in my abdomen. Apart from Jay I hadn’t felt it since I was fifteen, when I was head over heels in love with a boy the same age. My friends told me it was nothing but a schoolgirl crush, but to me it felt like true love. Sitting in a dingy watering hole in Bristol, I remembered those butterflies fluttering around frantically in my tummy and smiled.

Time flew by as we watched their game, and we had to decide whether to stay or move on. It was getting late. After some discussion, Jackie and I decided it was for the best if we left, though we made a big show of it just in case, dawdling as we went to collect our coats from the other side of the bar. Both of us were hoping that one of them would notice us preparing to leave and make a move. It worked. The guy I’d been staring at, with those enchanting blue eyes, made his way over.

Oh, surely you’re not leaving yet? he asked. Can we buy you two ladies a drink? He sent me a look that made my heart skip a beat; I felt my cheeks turn pink.

He introduced himself as ‘Garry’, which he told me was the Irish version of Gerald. He seemed very proud of his heritage and the fact he had a strong Irish surname like Fitzpatrick. He introduced his mate as Fred, shortened from Frederick. I grinned when Garry said that because honestly we could have worked that much out for ourselves.

I found my eyes lingering on his face for a moment, and decided that he didn’t really look like a ‘Garry’, more like a ‘Tristan’ or a ‘Stefan’. His smile got bigger as I was watching and I realised I was staring again. Catching myself, I smiled shyly, realising he was still waiting to hear whether we wanted to join him and his friend for a drink. By this time Fred was leaning on the bar next to Jackie, who met my eyes and grinned, making it clear that she, too, wanted to stay.

We have to go, I replied, at last, sounding very reluctant.

I explained our predicament, how we were hopelessly lost in the maze that was the city of Bristol and our need to get back to the railway station before it got too late. I don’t think they saw things quite the same way as I did. Our adventure – or, should I say, Jackie’s adventure – was turning out to be quite an interesting diversion.

Stay for a drink and we’ll make sure you get to the station – that’s a promise, Garry smiled at me.

I tried not to show too much of the delight I felt, but some of it must have shown on my face because Jackie agreed immediately. I found myself nodding happily, pleased that we had found ourselves a couple of guides with such potential.

With nearly identical grins, we took ourselves off to the ladies room, which turned out to be something of a black hole for grime, apparently pulling in all the dirt from the rest of the pub. Even though they clearly hadn’t been cleaned in ages, neither of us cared. We were both too excited by the prospect of spending time with Garry and Fred.

I felt light and warm, like something inside was telling me that, for once, I might actually be in the right place at the right time.

Jackie laughed at my expression.

You know, he couldn’t take his eyes off you, she told me, pleased for me. You could be in there.

Don’t be silly, I said, feeling the blush that had started when Garry had smiled at me begin to deepen. He’s just being nice.

Jackie shook her head, laughing again.

He is not ‘just being nice’, Rosie. Go back out there and get his number – I bet he’d agree to meet up with you again, he really likes you.

I frowned and checked my hair in the dusty mirror above the sink, wondering what Jackie thought Garry saw in me. I couldn’t ask for his number, no matter how cute he was.

Could I?

No. I'd never done anything that forward in my life before and I wasn’t about to start doing it now. I would just have to see how things went. If he liked me as much as Jackie said - and I secretly hoped- he would have to ask me.

We emerged back into the pub to find two drinks lined up on the bar, waiting for us. I could hardly contain my joy they were there, but I wasn’t about to show that to Garry, or his friend. I knew that a girl ought to have some composure in front of the opposite sex.

He was awfully good looking, though, and had one of those voices that pulled you in and made you want to hang off his every word. Every time he spoke I thought my knees would buckle beneath me. I learned from him that he was an electrician and work was sporadic, which was how he came to be in The Black Horse. It wasn’t something he would normally do.

I explained that it wasn’t something we would normally do, either, which naturally led to questions about how we had found ourselves in a dingy, back street pub like this one. I told him what had happened the night before. I wasn’t too proud to say that I had been stood up, though I was beginning to feel quite grateful to Jay for giving me an opportunity to meet a guy like this.

Well, I’m glad he did stand you up, Garry said.

He ran a hand through his fine, light coloured hair, giving me that delicious half-smile that had first caught my attention. His hand on one hip he was unconsciously striking a pose as we spoke. He looked me right in the eye, almost pinning me to the spot with the power of his gaze. When he spoke, he had a habit of licking his lips and my eyes would fall to his mouth every time he did it, making my heart flutter and skip. I had no idea whether he knew he was doing it, but I knew he could tell he was having an effect on me.

Whenever our eyes met, I was the one to break away. I could feel my face steadily flushing with embarrassment and I stared at my shoes, fiddling with my buttons to distract myself from his obvious attention. The way his eyes fell on my face made me feel shivery and warm all at once. I’m sure it was plain as day that I found him attractive.

Time flew by as Garry and I talked, completely oblivious to our surroundings, deep in conversation. The pub and its other occupants seemed to fade from my mind; I only had eyes for him. He told me that he was twenty-five, making him seven years older than me. I felt very young and inexperienced when I spoke, and some of the things I said must have really shown my age.

The nervous, slightly nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach got worse with every word he spoke. I did my best not to cringe and cover up some of the sillier things I said. A couple of times I simply shut my eyes when he glanced away.

I’m making an absolute fool of myself, I thought and sighed to myself.

To get a short break from the unfamiliar intensity of his attention I suggested that we went to find Jackie and Fred. At some point during our conversation, they had moved out of my eye-line and now they were nowhere to be seen. I guessed they must have gone outside and when I made a move towards the door, Garry reached for my hand and clasped it tightly.

My heart, already beating at about a million miles an hour in his presence, skipped and shuddered in delight. I met his