Time Slips Away: A Sequel to Time Will Tell

By Patricia M. Smith

Five students meet on their first day at college although they are all studying different subjects. There is Fliss, a dyslexic, brilliant artist whose academic family have rejected her ; Bridie, an Irish girl far away from her own family, there to study catering in England ; Jules, a handsome, charming homosexual studying design whose family doesn't want to understand him ; Gustave, a German financial wizard in England to improve his English and finally there is Claudia, beautiful, elegant daughter of rich parents who have no time for her. She begins studying design with Jules but changes to journalism.

They pal up first of all by meeting up at lunchtimes and in the evening. At the end of the first year they decide to rent a house together. They all pay a share of the rent and food but Claudia, who has unlimited funds, provides all the luxuries - mainly wine for their ‘orgies’ - Bridie practices some of her recipes and they drink unlimited red wine. They get to know each other thoroughly and tell of their past life realizing that they all need a new family who really cares about them and the ‘gang’ provides that

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Mar 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781984593689

Patricia M. Smith

Born in London 69 years ago, a widow with two grown-up sons, one of whom lives in America and the other in Devon, she divides her time between the UK and her house in USA where she can write peacefully by Lake Whitmore. After working as a language teacher and living in France, she studied creative writing under Sandie Traveller and at Winchester University, writing short stories at first, one of which was broadcast on the radio, then graduating to novels, of which, to date, she has written four. Patricia also enjoys painting and has travelled widely visiting all five continents.

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Copyright © 2020 by Patricia M. Smith.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 02/12/2020

Xlibris

800-056-3182

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Contents

Acknowledgements

Previously

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

To my grandchildren

Jason, Isabel, Zara, and Oliver Smith

Acknowledgements

I should like to express my sincere acknowledgement to my tutor, Sandie Traveller, without whose excellent teaching I could never have written a word. Also, my thanks go to Sheila Ringshaw, Maureen Ager, Shirley Dillimore, Tina D’Eath, Kelly Goode, Jean Challis, Barbara Jennings, Loretta Smith, and Derek Hull for their kind encouragement and critique.

Previously

(In Book One, Time Will Tell)

Was there ever a time when I didn’t know them? I suppose there was, but it feels as if they’ve been a part of me forever. I have difficulty in thinking back to a time when they were not there.

My parents had long given up on me. My clever brother and sister supplied all the gratification they needed. Both siblings were at their separate universities and top dogs at everything. Well, of course, they would be. Hadn’t they always been? Then there was me. My parents just couldn’t make head or tail of me.

‘Why can’t she learn to read? For heaven’s sake, she’s ten years old now. She’ll never learn anything if she can’t read.’

‘But she can draw and paint, Mr and Mrs Burgess. She’s extremely talented in that respect.’

‘What good is that?’ They dismissed it with disdain. ‘What is this dyslexic thing? Can it be cured? Oh well, send her off to art college. Only possible thing we can do for her.’

I felt as though I’d been got rid of—they had washed their hands of me, but as it happened, without their knowledge, it really was the best thing they’d ever done for me.

They looked daunting, the huge wrought-iron gates of that college. On my very first day, I hesitated, but other students were chatting cheerfully and strolling in so I tagged on behind a group of them. Once I was just inside the door of the vast entrance hall, I sat on the nearest chair and waited. The others milled around more or less aimlessly, looked at the various signs, and meandered off in one direction or the other. Signs were not of very much use to, me so I continued to sit, staring absent-mindedly into space.

‘Hallo there. Mind if I sit here?’ A fresh-faced girl with rosy cheeks, a clear complexion, and shiny chestnut hair sat down next to me, and without waiting for my response, ‘Do you know what we’re supposed to do?’

‘I haven’t the vaguest idea,’ I replied. ‘I’m waiting for someone to come and direct me.’

‘Sounds like a good idea. I’ll join you. I’m Bridget Donoghue, by the way. Bridie to my friends.’

‘Hello, Bridie. I’m Fliss.’

‘Jesus, but that’s a strange kind of name.’

‘It’s Felicity really—Felicity Burgess—but I’m Fliss to my friends.’

‘I guess we’re friends then. Pleased to meet you, Fliss. What are you here for?’

‘Art of some kind, and you?’

‘Catering. My parents think the world will always have to eat, so catering is a worthwhile career.’

‘That makes sense. My parents think art is useless and so am I, but it’s the only thing I know how to do.’

‘Oh, Fliss, how wrong can they be? You have to be born with real talent to do art well. You can’t be taught talent—techniques perhaps but talent, no.’

What a boost to my non-existent self-esteem that was. I warmed to Bridie at once.

The bustle continued all around, buzzing like bees around their hive, when a fair-haired young man approached us.

‘Do you two young ladies have any idea where I should go to find the design department?’

‘Join the bewildered-and-lost brigade. We’re thinking of setting up a special department,’ Bridie quipped.

He laughed and sat down. I noticed how very handsome he was. Fair hair, slightly wavy, fell lightly over one eye, and his features would have graced any film screen. My mind’s eye was sizing him up already for a portrait. I couldn’t help it. I did it all the time when I looked at people’s faces. I had him posed as a Greek god, although there was something else about him which I couldn’t quite decipher.

He held out his hand to Bridie, who took it.

‘I’m Julian, Jules to my friends.’

‘Great, Jules. You’ve mastered the entrance password. You’re now a member of the club. I’m Bridget, pronounced Bridie, and this is Felicity, pronounced Fliss.’

He laughed again and shook my hand.

‘Pleased to meet you both. God, but this is a daunting place, isn’t it?’

Just then, a figure entered, carrying a batch of papers, looking flustered, and wearing a black gown flapping all around him. He set the papers down on a nearby table, and they promptly slid to the floor, scattering all around. Jules leapt to his feet and gathered them up as the perplexed figure began clapping his