I have told stories all my life as an actor, theatre director, writer, mum and now as a gran. Having lived in the U.S., England, France and the Middle East, I write about men, women and children in different countries, and how they deal with life’s unexpected situations.
This story tells how, as an artist and a man, Luke’s life has hit the bottom of the well. Going to France to decorate his friends’ house, they pass the Somme – Little Vimy – and there, Luke finds an outsider, like himself.
The bottle opener on his knife was badly worn, Luke noticed as he finally prised off the cap on the litre of 33 Export beer. He’d controlled himself all morning, but now the liquid flowed quickly easing his thirst, his mind. The beer and the racing movement of the car gave him a lift, triggering again his interest in the scenery outside. A road sign whizzed past, the name of the town vanishing behind him. Oh God, he’d forgotten he was supposed to watch out for the turn-off to Vimy Ridge, and now it was gone. It was his fault.
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