The Pathbreaker

By Emma Kathryn

To some, Hannah Jones has it all. After all, she acts on the hottest tv show in the country. She gets to rub shoulders with the nation's biggest stars. She seems to lead a life of glamour and riches.
But few know the truth. Hannah, an underpaid casual actress, could lose her job at any moment. Furthermore, she is guarding a shameful se

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emma Kathryn
• Release date: Feb 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9780648232513

Emma Kathryn

Emma Kathryn (Nottinghamshire, UK) is a staff writer at Witch Way Magazine, The House of Twigs blog, Stone, Root, and Bone blog, the Spiral Nature blog, and Gods & Radicals. She hosts Wild Witch Podcast and has spoken at several UK Pagan events, including Magickal Women Conference in London. Visit her online at www.EmmaKathrynWildWitchcraft.com.

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The Pathbreaker

Emma Kathryn

logogiftiny

Landovenna Press

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

Hannah sighed. She could feel her new boyfriend, Ross, handling her. Right now, he was exploring her bottom.

Oh, Ross! She giggled and blushed.

You’re a feisty little madam, aren’t you?

He continued to work at her flesh.

She looked up at him delightedly. They were in the garden of The Glade, the local pub. He was tall, warm and gropable. His russet hair was delightfully shaggy and sun-streaked. His skin was moist olive, his eyes sea-green, his voice husky.

Hannah had hoped for this Saturday. It had been ages before he could see her. It had been a three-week relationship. And she had only seen him twice.

She leaned contentedly against his chest. So, she murmured, you have thought of going to Apollo Bay? I suggested it last week, remember. We could go there next month.

Next month? He laughed.

She snuggled up to him. She wound her thumbs deliciously through his belt loops.

My friend Heidi says we can use her parents’ beach house. Go down to Airey’s Inlet and to Lorne. Visit the fairy park in Anakie. Oh, it would be such fun!

I don’t know, Hannah. He turned away and laughed. It’s just that I’m leaving for an overseas trip. I’ll be gone at least five months.

Time seemed to stand still. Hannah struggled not to react. She leaned against the wall.

Ross talked on happily. Backpacking around the world with my mates. It should be fun, Hannah. Sorry I can’t take you, but this was all arranged before I met you. He looked at her defiantly. Me and my mates will have a great time in the bars of Bangkok and the casinos of Paris.

I see. Hannah felt leaden. She turned away.

He came up behind her. Now, it’s no reason to sook, he said patiently. I will be gone for some time, but we can…

Hannah faced him. Instinct told her to stay calm.

I kind of thought, she said in a slow, measured voice, that when people are in love they want to be together. So, you are so delighted to go on this trip? She sighed. You aren’t very sad about leaving me.

He laughed.

It’s just that I…

Sorry, Ross, we’re not meant for each other. She clenched her hands. She was trembling. It’s just that I… I… She choked. I am the sort of person who, once I take someone into my heart, I do forever. I am intensely absorbed in the lives of my loved ones. I want them near me. I could understand if you’re going away on business. But no. Instead you’re thrilled to have a holiday without me!

Hannah! He gave a rippling laugh. You’re a clingy woman.

Too bad, she said. At least I know what I am. And with that she turned on her heel and walked away.

Hannah gained pace. She ran past her friends in the beer garden. She had come for an enjoyable day out. But instead her brief talk with Ross had ruined everything.

Hannah rushed through the pub. She opened the glass door and slammed it behind her, trying to keep her self-control.

So, there it was. Despair warred with rage.

Hannah had heard of such men. Men who casually told their girlfriends, usually after the first night, that they were going away to surf in Queensland, or climb the mountains of Nepal, or, worse still, backpack around the whole world.

Such men never mentioned bringing their girlfriends with them. Hannah knew why not. A girlfriend’s presence would upset their pursuing of one-night stands.

Hannah had always been very sympathetic to friends who had told her such stories. She had usually said the same thing. Gee! Well I’m sorry that happened to you, but… at least you know he’s not for you now.

Now, Hannah realized she had been bitten. She could not believe her bad luck. Or was it her stupidity? How could she have fallen in love with someone like Ross?

All she knew was that she had. Hannah walked furiously. She just longed to get home, where she could flop on her bed and hide her face.

Hannah stomped down Cherry Street two days later. It was time she had a heart-to-heart with her good friend Clare.

Ross had not called her. She told herself to be glad about that. But she felt hurt, though. Surely, he would have wanted to decently end the relationship?

Hannah let herself into Lazy Days. This was her favourite sedate place to eat in Gladesville, the artsy seaside town Hannah had moved to in the last two years. They catered for people like her, who preferred great big gooey sundaes and shiny, cream-oozing buns to metabolic shakes and measly lettuce rolls.

She saw Clare sitting in the corner. They had met at a local amateur theatre group eighteen months ago, and were still attending it. Clare was thirty-one, making her two years younger than Hannah. She was prettily dressed in a straw hat and white frock. Her crystalline blue eyes were skilfully outlined in indigo, and her blue-black hair flounced to her shoulders.

Clare got up and greeted her. I’m sorry about what happened to you, she said. So, you had a little Tim experience?

Hannah laughed. Clare’s ex-boyfriend, Tim, had done exactly the same thing to her a year ago.

Yes, I did.

They talked about it. Clare cheered her up. They discussed Ross’ shocking, terrible traits. They agreed she should have been glad to dump him. Hannah kept her chin up. She smiled on.

You did the right thing, said Clare. Could you see yourself waiting for him here in Australia, like a dutiful little servant? And then finding out… through new friends he made on Facebook… that he’d banged at least three chicks while he was over there?

No. Hannah laughed wildly, hysterically. No way in the world. But it will take a while for me to heal.

You were in love with him.

Yes. I was. Hannah felt bleak. And there was so much I didn’t know.

As they got up to leave she was still very sad. Clare said she understood. Want to see a movie?

Not yet.

Why don’t you ask Christopher Dane out on a date?

They both roared with laughter.

Christopher Dane was a stalwart from their theatre group. He had made his crush on Hannah very plain a year ago. It had irritated her intensely.

He still likes you, you know.

I would never go out with Christopher Dane!

I’m almost thinking he would be quite a good option.

The shambling, plain nerd was not on Hannah’s menu. She knew what men she preferred. They all had one qualification. She had to be in love with them.

If you never fall in love with Christopher Dane, it might be to your detriment.

Don’t be ridiculous, Clare!

Well, he is still ready and waiting for you.

Hannah bade her goodbye affectionately.

As she left, she thought of Christopher. He was a standing joke between them. Surely Clare couldn’t mean it seriously?

Visions of Christopher came to her. His thick thatch of hair. His big woolly jumper. Him disgustingly wiping his nose. Clustered around the computer with the other nerds.

Hannah tossed her head in disdain. She walked down the steps, and back to Wilcock Street.

The next day Hannah began her preparation for work. Getting up at four in the morning. Ugh.

She washed quietly in the tiny bathroom in her share house, hoping her housemate wouldn’t knock on the door. She put on her dolorous blouse and straight blue skirt. She was annoyed by her appearance. Very ordinary brown hair and eyes.

Clare had told her not to be so down on her looks. You’ve got a lovely oval face. And your eyebrows are so beautifully arched! she had said kindly.

So what, though. Hannah knew no natural beauty shone from her face. Her figure, which she did not even bother looking at, was a bit tubby. Not to mention her hair, which was frizzy and disobedient. But Hannah had long given up on worrying about her looks. She knew guile was more important.

Clutching her shabby leather handbag, Hannah slipped out of the house. She then boarded an early train. Within half an hour she was in Melbourne’s city centre.

Riding a tram, Hannah finally arrived at her destination. It was a large building with plenty of office space. Now, though, there was only one organization there.

She gazed angrily at the women walking past her in their tight skirts, varnished nail polish and expensive shoes.

She had been expected to be one of them. Her family had all thought she should blaze a trail in an office.

But there were some things that just weren’t possible.

Hannah walked demurely down the street. Her skirt had a little tear on the inside. And her blouse had seen better days.

But after all, no-one was likely to notice that on screen!

She finally had a job with some regularity. Three meaty shifts a week, although they had a habit of cancelling at the last minute. Through Those Walls, a soap opera focusing on a fictional software company, was as secure as you could get. A job as a regular extra was gold dust.

She finally walked through the double doors.

The third assistant director, Alison, smiled at her.

You do turn up early.

That was only because she was terrified not to.

Hannah signed in. She then sat down with her friends in the extras’ green room. Hannah could picture what the next ten minutes were going to be like. Making coffee, gossiping, reading magazines and folding arms. Then an assistant director might come. On the contrary they might come two hours later.

At least it was warm in here. Hannah took out a long, soft length of yarn and her crochet hook. Nothing gave her more pleasure than this.

Hannah had had a page on an e-commerce website for two years. She sold her lovely confections- decorations, quilts, clothing- by advertising and making pieces to order. Hannah did not consider herself a great business person. But somehow, she muddled through. She interacted with enthusiastic customers, and then, terrified, would send them their pieces wrapped up in secure post packs.

She