As the winner of our First Chapter competition – Queenie Durkin – was announced at the glamorous Baileys Women’s Prize for Fiction awards event at the Clore Ballroom on London’s Southbank, we are excited to publish our two runners up and winning entry, with notes from our guest judge Marian Keyes.
Here’s how Marian Keyes started off the story…
The Host
The doorbell rang and Sarah decided to not answer. Nick had only just left, she’d had enough drama for one evening. But when it rang again Sarah took a sneaky peek through the living room curtains and was shocked to see Nick’s wife, Jess. What the hell!
For a moment she contemplated pretending none of this was happening, but that wasn’t the person she was, so she went down the hall and opened up.
‘Nick doesn’t know I’m here.’ Jess’s face was distorted with fear. ‘But I needed to see…’ She gazed at Sarah’s clearly pregnant stomach and she wept.
Second runner up Elsie Shephard, age 29 from East Sussex continued…
‘You’d better come inside’, Sarah offered and led the way into the living area of her rental flat in Islington. To describe it as cosy would be an understatement, Sarah didn’t mind though, as she never spent longer than six months in any location.
Sarah glanced down to make sure she had positioned the silicone bump correctly amidst the rush to answer the door, once it had registered with her who was on the other side. This confrontation was not meant to take place until the following day, it was supposed to be Sarah arriving unannounced at Jess’s door, false tears in her eyes, feigning desperation to find answers, eager to meet the ‘other woman’. In this line of work things rarely panned out how they were ‘supposed to’. The basics, however, were always the same- emotionally draining confrontation followed by ten thousand pounds lodged into her bank account within forty-eight hours, by the wealthy businessman who did not have the heart to tell his other half that he simply did not love her anymore.
It was obvious that Jess had become suspicious and in turn, followed Nick to Sarah’s flat at some point over the previous two days during which they were finalising the paperwork side of the agreement.
Sarah’s clients longed to end their relationships like real men. They wished they could sneak away quietly, but they were aware that wasn’t an option. They understood their wife or girlfriend would need a concrete reason to hate them, a hidden affair brought to light - anything to make the situation seem like less of a personal rejection and make her less likely to want to stay and work through the issues. An easy getaway for the client. In a small number of cases, the client had recently been diagnosed with a terminal illness, had not shared the news with his other half and didn’t want her to live out the remainder of their days together fulfilling the role of his personal carer. He couldn’t burden her with that, he would feel too guilty even contemplating it and he needed to get out before things got increasingly tough.
Sarah wasn’t particularly proud of her chosen line of work. She created her company ‘The Breakup Host’ a year after Owen walked out on their life together, deciding that she never wanted another woman to go through what she did. Sarah felt her heart racing as she re-lived the rainy evening in September when Owen returned from work to their shared townhouse, slowly hung his satchel on a dining chair, looked at her blankly for a brief moment, before declaring that his feelings for her were gone. An abrupt ending, Sarah never received the explanation she craved. She had loved Owen dearly and would continue to love him until she was given a reason not to.
Jess explained who she was, Sarah already knew her from Nick’s picture. She had a youthful, porcelain face, dominated by striking green eyes. Blonde waves cascaded over her shoulders, in stark contrast to Sarah’s black bob and amber eyes. She finally found the courage to look Jess in the eye. A heartbroken woman sat in front of her. ‘I wasn’t aware Nick was married, he never said. I am as shocked and as hurt as you are, Jess.’ Sarah knew these words by rote, for this was a conversation she had had several times before. She stood up, rubbing her bump as she walked over to boil the kettle. Perhaps some movement in the room would diffuse the tangible tension.
‘Are you going to forgive him? What are you planning to do?’ Jess cried after her. ‘I hope I never lay eyes on the coward again but you have a child to think of!’ Sarah took a few moments to herself while she placed the two filled mugs, alongside a small bottle of milk on a vintage wooden tray and returned to the coffee table. She explained to Jess that she would pack up her things and raise the child at her parents’ cottage in the outskirts of Southampton.
The fact that Sarah seemed to be worse off than her softened the blow for Jess. Her and Nick’s marriage was relatively new, following a three month engagement. In hindsight, Jess had always known something wasn’t right, she’d had feelings of doubt which she continually brushed aside, even as her father walked her down the aisle in her beautiful lace off-the-shoulder custom-made gown. Memories of her dream dress made Jess’s lips curl into a smile, she did her best to hide this.
Later that night, Sarah sat cross-legged, bump-free, on the couch and dissected the events which unfolded that day. Things had gone surprisingly well with Jess. Granted, she had been upset at first but seemed to accept the revelation towards the end of the meeting. Sarah was certain she even witnessed the outbreak of a smile! How peculiar. She pondered the money. It was business after all and she needed to force herself to visualise the benefits, the cold hard cash that made this venture worthwhile. Sarah found she could take on a client every few months and manage to make the money stretch, no mundane office job necessary. She had never been materialistic, she lived out of an aged tan leather suitcase, her life contained within cabin luggage dimensions.
Sarah pondered her next move. Her friend Ruth had recently moved to Marbella with the twins, some sunshine might make her feel better about herself. This particular job had been different and there was a part of her which did not want to leave. Things with Nick had taken an unexpected turn earlier in the evening and brought about feelings of desire for the first time in years. Sarah downed the remains of her glass of rose wine as her phone beeped. It was a message from Nick.
‘Please don’t leave. Can’t stop thinking about our kiss. Jess left. Can I come see you?’
Marian on Elsie’s chapter: ‘This is a great original take on the story I set up and that made it stand out from the rest. I felt like Elsie had really thought about the characters’ journey and she’s got a lovely rhythm and flow to her writing.
First runner up Hannah Thompson, 31 from London wrote…
Sarah’s hands moved instinctively to her stomach. ‘You know you’re not supposed to be here.’ She glanced at the Shepherd’s house across the street and the Bell’s at the end of the road, lights burning behind still curtains. The Haven closed down after 10pm – it was best for the children. The only sound came from the distant hum of traffic a few miles away, beyond the gates.
‘I thought you’d be happy for us. The baby’s for all of us.’ Sarah pleaded. She and Steve had always gotten on well enough with Jess and Nick, who had only moved into The Haven eight months ago. After their three years Sarah had hoped she’d finally feel at home somewhere, but that awkward feeling still hadn’t left; she clung to newcomers like wet hair. Especially Jess - the pretty, bubbly new girl at school. They could be mistaken for sisters Sarah thought; both 5ft nothing with coffee-coloured hair and an overdose of freckles. But Jess wore it well.
‘I want to be happy.’ Jess protested angrily through her tears. ‘It’s just… a surprise that’s all. To find out like this, only now, months after it happened.’ Jess had been away for her uncle’s funeral that weekend. Sarah’s mind flashed back to Nick openly undressing her with his eyes; his clammy hand on her back as he’d led her to room 12 of The Lotus. His stubble grating against her cheek as she silently ran through the alphabet backwards in her head. Jess had left that day and he couldn’t wait. It had been their first time together.
‘I know it’s a surprise. A shock even.’ Sarah jolted back to reality, wishing she didn’t feel so guilty. Knowing she wouldn’t have done it if Jess had been there. ‘But The Haven has another little girl or boy! Just think of all the time you and Nick will get to spend with this one. Isn’t that why we’re here?’
Jess stared straight back at her. ‘I just wanted it to be me and Nick that’s all. After the miscarriage.’ She looked down. ‘I just didn’t think he would go for you.’
Sarah felt like she’d swallowed cement. ‘I know you’re upset. When Steve and Erica had Charlie so quickly I thought my head was going to explode. But look at Charlie now! It’s been so worth it.’ She heard the cracks in her own voice. She glanced down at her watch – Steve had been with Erica, Will and Charlie today. He should have been back before 10pm.
‘Maybe you should book in some extra time with Dr Hazel?’ Sarah suggested, desperate for the conversation to end. Dr Hazel Mayapple was the exuberant host at The Lotus fertility spa and the lifeblood of The Haven. All of the couples and families spent every weekend there with her. She specialised in incompatible fertility issues between couples. Sarah still remembered the exact words in the brochure:
‘The Haven complex is a home for all happily married couples who need a little extra help to create the family they deserve. If you and your partner’s fertility is misaligned, then my Lotus Therapy Method undertaken exclusively at my state-of-the-art spa facility guarantees you will become part of one big happy family. Broaden your horizons for each other and share every birth, first step and first word, co-parenting together in The Haven.’
Dr Hazel had founded The Haven and The Lotus Spa six years ago alongside her late husband. All of the children called her Grandma - there was no denying Dr Hazel’s dedication. But for Sarah and Steve coming here was an expensive final option to make a child and it was pushing them to breaking point.
Jess shook her head angrily. ‘You don’t think I’ve thought of that? Time is running out for me. You’re only 34, I’m 38.’ The tears started again. Sarah stepped tentatively out of the safety of the doorway, hoping to hug the guilt away. She knew that all-consuming longing for a child – a desperate longing that could never be filled. Not even by Charlie, if she was honest. But Jess stepped back. ‘Your time will come.’ Sarah said quietly, standing still. ‘Now go and get some sleep so you’re fresh for The Lotus tomorrow.’
Jess laughed bitterly. ‘I don’t know why I came here.’ She stepped away slowly before stopping and turning. ‘Say hi to Steve for me. I’ll see him at The Lotus tomorrow.’ Her black eyes held Sarah’s gaze for just a second too long. Then she was gone.
Sarah slammed the door and sank to the floor, exhausted. She felt sick. Images of Steve and Jess pulsed in her mind. It was inevitable. But what upset her more was Jess’s hatred; she thought this would bring them together. She rubbed her hands anxiously across her stomach and tried to shake the fear out of her head. It would all be worth it. It was all worth it already to finally have this little bump.
She struggled to her feet and started to make her way to the kitchen, in need of wine but happy to settle for chamomile tea. Then the doorbell went again. It must be Steve!
Sarah paced hopefully back to the door and peered through the spy-hole. A sophisticated older lady, with short grey curls and russet lipstick smiled straight back at her. It was Dr Hazel – it was the host.
Sarah stepped back in surprise – Dr Hazel never made unplanned visits. She couldn’t help feeling flattered but she hadn’t done the washing up; she couldn’t let Dr Hazel see the mess. She contemplated not opening the door, pretending she was asleep. Then she felt the handle pushing down. It wasn’t locked. Her mouth fell open as Dr Hazel’s beaming face appeared. ‘Hello Sarah darling. Don’t worry, I know you’ve had enough unwanted visitors this evening. It’s only me.’
Dr Hazel stepped inside and closed the door behind her, turning the key.
Marian on Hannah’s chapter: ‘I would love to read it if Hannah went full dystopian and I want her to keep on writing. You might have been a bit constrained by the intro, but you’ve created a great atmosphere and I’d love to read more of this story. Please don’t give up!’
Winner Queenie Durkin, 42, from Hampton Hill wrote...
‘There’s so much… Sarah, please let me in.’
Sarah hesitated. It had taken months - years to extricate herself from Jess; that delicate, tear soaked, crumpled doll of vulnerability that stood before her. She knew there was still love between them, somewhere. But it clanged like a death knell for her, giving way to nauseating feelings of anxiety - a sense of claustrophobia that made her want to rush past Jess, into the street and gulp down the chilled night air. But what if Nick had still been outside, watching? Sarah reached for Jess and pulled her inside, past the bike, the handbags, the countless shoes abandoned in the hallway, the detritus of barely keeping up with life, of saying ‘yes’ to too many things, too much time spent away from the nest. Jess took a seat in the kitchen while Sarah busied herself filling the kettle. She didn’t want to look at Jess in the light. She could hardly stand for their eyes to meet.
‘Anything stronger than tea?’ Jess asked.
And then they were facing one another, Sarah’s heart pounding.
Instinctively she reached a hand to her tummy, hoping the negative emotions wouldn’t be playing out in cinematic form to the life unfolding inside her.
‘There will be plenty of time to live through your own messes without sharing in mine” she would say, communicating by osmosis. Or at least hoping to.
It had been so long since she’d seen Jess. The silence between them felt bleak and heavy. The kitchen, which would once have been filled with their laughter and the joys of shared mischief, was now steeped in long suppressed hurts, internal battles, monologues and diatribes struggling to reach the surface, desperate to be both heard and long forgotten.
“Jess, I have gin, no, I don’t have tonic, I have vodka, but crap mixers. I don’t know. What are you doing here?’
It was clumsy, it was garbled, but it was a silence broken at last.
‘You were right Sarah, you were right, I’m leaving him… or I’m trying to, but its so, so… difficult’.
Jess was struggling to say the words, she was looking to Sarah to take the lead, to guide the conversation, ask questions, interrupt, anything, but Sarah was determined to let Jess do the talking, to keep her own counsel, to give nothing away.
‘I think he’s looking for me, has he called you?’
Sarah had been living this meeting in her head ever since her friendship with Jess had come to an abrupt and traumatic end. There had been countless sleepless nights, agonising over words that could never be said, emotions that could not be expressed. Those hurts that had lain dormant, pitted in tight knots in her stomach were rising to the surface to feed on the oxygen of fresh attention. She didn’t want to unnerve Jess by alerting her to Nick’s stormy earlier visit. There was so much she needed to know. She needed time. Just the two of them.
‘5 months’
‘I’m sorry?’ Jess replied.
‘I am 5 months pregnant Jess, well 5 and a half actually, and it’s a little boy. Caspar’.
Jess shook her head in disbelief that she could have paid such scant regard to the monumental changes visibly taking place in Sarah’s life.
‘Wow Sarah, I just, I don’t know what to say, I can hardly believe it...’
She paused, ‘… do you even like babies?’
Something about the crassness of the comment made them both smile. There it was, a glimmer of their shared history. Their joint vows to be party girls till the end. The unstoppable, heel clicking, hair flicking disco girls. Well the wheels had certainly come off that joy ride.
With the faintest hint of light heartedness Sarah replied, ‘ Well I’m planning on liking this one’, and she slumped rather ungracefully into the chair next to Jess. The farmhouse dining table, a much loved piece of furniture, rescued from Sarah’s Grandmothers house was strewn with paperwork, books and magazines; evidence of many evenings working late into the night and countless tight deadlines. Propped against an open laptop was a mood board, depicting the sedate and minimalist interior choices Sarah would be making had she ever found the time. Aspiration, inspiration, whatever it was, it was a long shot.
‘Everything is exactly the same’ said Jess, ‘I love it; your cosy chaos, Nick cant stand chaos’. She trailed off.
It had been two years since they had last been in such close proximity. How could it have come to this? Virtual strangers…
‘Sarah, I’m devastated by what’s happened to us, I just had to come to you, before I face anyone else. Shit, I’m glad you hadn’t moved house.’
‘I think I know why you’ve left Nick’, Jess glanced up at her sideways, ‘It’s because he’s become a bit porky isn’t it? You’ve always been a bit of a ‘fattist’.”
The absurdity made both girls burst out laughing. Tensions were lifting. There was the faintest hope of a rekindling, of more laughter. Still they had no idea how long they would have to wait.
‘He would drop dead if he heard someone call him fat’, laughed Jess.
‘Oh well’, Sarah deadpanned.
Just then Sarah’s phone rang. Nick’s number flashed up.
He was going to make this hellish and they both knew it.
Marian on Queenie’s chapter: ‘This is a great start to a story because it cues it up but still leaves a lot to be said. She’s got a nice command of dialogue and the energy of her chapter convinces me – those moments of incredible intimacy with someone you used to be close to. I could definitely see this spreading out into a whole book.’