Sheila Turner Johnston [Johnston - Maker of Footprints

Sheila Turner Johnston was born in west Cork, Ireland, and spent her childhood in different counties the length and breadth of the country, as the family moved wherever her fathers job took him. She attended Queens University, Belfast, and apart from managing to graduate against all her expectations, one of her best experiences was reading her poetry to an audience that included Seamus Heaney.

Sheila has won prizes for both fiction and non-fiction, and has written many articles for both local and national publications. She and her husband Norman founded the publishing stable Colourpoint Creative Ltd, which is now owned and managed by their two sons.

Maker of Footprints is her first published novel.

Sheila can be contacted at .

Also by Sheila Turner Johnston:

The Harper of the Only God Selected poems of Alice Milligan (as editor) Alice, a biography of Alice Milligan. Colourpoint, 1994

The Middle Ages (with Kathleen Gormley) Colourpoint, 1997

History In Close-Up: The Twentieth Century Colourpoint Educational, 2010

History In Close-Up: The Medieval World (with Norman Johnston) Colourpoint Educational, 2011

maker of footprints

maker of footprints

SHEILA TURNER JOHNSTON

Published 2019 by Colourpoint Books

an imprint of Colourpoint Creative Ltd

Colourpoint House, Jubilee Business Park

21 Jubilee Road, Newtownards, BT23 4YH

Tel: 028 9182 6339

Fax: 028 9182 1900

E-mail:

Web: www.colourpoint.co.uk

Second Edition

First Impression

Text Sheila Turner Johnston, 2008, 2019

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, scanning, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owners and publisher of this book.

This novel is a work of fiction and all characters and incidents are based entirely on the authors imagination. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The author has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Designed by April Sky Design, Newtownards

Tel: 028 9182 7195

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Produced by Colourpoint Books

EPUB ISBN 978-1-78073-211-4

MOBI ISBN 978-1-78073-210-7

For the three men in my life, in order of appearance: Norman, Wesley, Malcolm

Meeting him was easy. It was knowing him that burned bone.

There are twists in fate; chances and turns; long straights in the flat lands and winding roads in mountains. In later years, Jenna Warwick traced the beginning of the rest of her life back to this conversation. Here, now, in her own house, in her own living room. If she had known and could have changed her direction, turned this way instead of that way, would she?

No. A hundred times No.

A DAM STRETCHED LAZILY and pushed himself out of her comfortable chair to give her a quick hug. So youre going to meet my famous photographer brother at last. Ill pick you up about five tomorrow.

She lifted his coat from the sofa and handed it to him. OK. That should give me time to finish my assignment. She chuckled. Cant wait to meet his wife. Ive never met a real London society gal before.

He wriggled his shoulders into the coat. I cant imagine why she married him. And she certainly didnt guess that Paul would drag her back to Belfast to live after only a few months of marriage. He pulled up the zip and went into the hall. But then predictable isnt Pauls middle name.

I cant stand unpredictable people. Theyre dangerous. She yawned and pushed a chestnut wave from his forehead. Now be a good boy and go home.

Adam kissed her. A boyfriends kiss. Not a lovers kiss. He put a hand on her shoulder. Ill have to stop being a good boy soon.

Not till I stop being a good girl!

She watched him walk down the dark row of terraced houses to his car, pulled half onto the pavement of the narrow city street. Solid, dependable Adam, sales rep for a printing company, the young man with the secure future, a man to bring home to meet your parents without a moments worry that they wouldnt like him. A man who satisfied the exacting standards of a clergyman who was fiercely protective of his student daughter.

She brushed her teeth, slipped into her warm pyjamas, sat up in her narrow bed and read a chapter of a novel, lay down and listened to the midnight news. Then she went to sleep.

She remembered everything she had done that ordinary night; the night she had gone to bed untroubled, like a good girl.

There should have been thunder.

Paul Shepherd took his foot off the edge of the sofa and propped his guitar against the wall. He turned back to the window.

Here they are, he called.

Dianne came up beside him and put her hand round his waist. They watched Adam and Jenna getting out of the car pulled up behind Pauls in the short driveway, looking up at the house, looking round at the overgrown patch of garden. They saw Adam button his jacket and reach for Jennas hand. Jenna smoothed her hair and they came towards the front door.

Not as handsome as me, is he?

Diannes lip gloss sparkled. Id better be careful how I answer that!

Paul put his fingers playfully round the back of her neck. Very careful!

Adam and Jenna had nearly reached the door. Dianne creased her lower lip with one varnished pink nail.

God, what awful hair! she said.

You have exacting standards.

You wouldnt have to be exacting to improve on that. Shes just let it grow and done nothing with it.

Paul was quiet for a moment as Adam reached for the doorbell. Dianne went to answer it. Paul looked again at Jenna. She was only a short distance from him, on the other side of the window, but her attention was on the door. If you were being nice, you could describe her as fresh. If you werent, Paul thought, you could describe her as He watched her adjust the strap of her low slung canvas bag in a nervous gesture. She looked up as the door opened and Paul heard Diannes words. Adam, how lovely to see you again! And how lovely to meet you, Jenna. You look wonderful!

He came into the hall and saw Jennas smile as his willowy, sophisticated wife bent to kiss the air above her ear. He stopped. Plain, he decided.

Diannes accent was cut as fine as crystal ringing beneath the tap of a spoon. When Jenna could see past the swaying blond hair that temporarily blocked her view, a man was standing in the hall behind her.

She had an impression of subtlety and power, of wariness and curiosity. He was dressed casually in a red sweatshirt and blue jeans, but his manner was anything but casual. His fingers were thrust stiffly into his pockets and, unlike his wifes greeting, Jenna merely received a brief nod before he turned his attention to his brother.

Youre late, little brother. I suppose you accidentally drove into the car park at Shaws Bridge. Sat there with your girl and couldnt think of a thing to do, so you decided to get on the road again.

Jenna felt herself blushing. She was twenty-three. Time to stop the red face syndrome. Adams arm tightened round her shoulders.

England hasnt civilised you, I see, he said.

Dianne showed them into the sitting room. Come and sit down. Dinner wont be long.

It smells wonderful, Jenna said.

Sorry the rooms so small, Dianne lifted Pauls guitar and looked around. Paul, couldnt you put this thing somewhere else? There isnt room to turn round in here! She tossed her hair and smiled brightly at Jenna. Well get a proper house soon, once weve looked round. Not that well be staying, of course. She laughed. Pauls much too much in demand in London.