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Under an Amber Sky: A Gripping Emotional Page Turner You Won’t Be Able to Put Down
Rose Alexander
‘Under an Amber Sky is simply Sublime. I was cast under a spell and was completely enthralled. Definitely a feast of different emotions. I loved it!’ - Dash Fan, BloggerFrom the bestselling author of GARDEN OF STARS comes a heartwarming and emotional story of hope and second chances.When Sophie Taylor’s life falls apart, there is only one thing to do: escape and find a new one.Dragged to Montenegro by her best friend Anna, Sophie begins to see the light at the end of a very dark tunnel. But when she stumbles into an old, run-down house on the Bay of Kotor, she surprises even herself when she buys it.Surrounded by old furniture, left behind by the former inhabitants, Sophie becomes obsessed by a young Balkan couple when she discovers a bundle of letters from the 1940s in a broken roll-top desk. Letters that speak of great love, hope and a mystery Sophie can’t help but get drawn into.Days in Montenegro are nothing like she expected and as Sophie’s home begins to fill with a motley crew of lodgers, the house by the bay begins to breathe again. And for Sophie, life seems to be restarting. But letting go of the past is easier said than done…Praise for Under an Amber Sky:‘Sometimes a book just really resonates with you from the very first chapter and hits you where it matters the most and this was definitely the case with this second book from Rose Alexander.’ – Shaz’s Book Blog‘This is a heartwarming story, beautifully told and I have no hesitation recommending it.’ – Jill’s Book Cafe‘I adored Under an Amber Sky’ – Claire Reeder, NetGalley Reviewer‘5/5 stars – wow!’ – Megan Wood, NetGalley Reviewer‘Wonderful writing…a remarkably hopeful book’ – Kathleen Gray, NetGalley Reviewer‘What a really lovely book about love, grief, friendships and new beginnings. A must read.’ – Susan Anne Burton, NetGalley Reviewer‘Roller coaster of emotions. A great story.’ – AnneMarie Brear, Blogger‘Under an Amber Sky is beautifully written. Five stars. Poignant and heartfelt read. Perfect read for lovers of women's literature, and who love adventure and emotional reads.’ – Dash Fan, Blogger
When Sophie Taylor’s life falls apart, there is only one thing to do: escape and find a new one.
Dragged to Montenegro by her best friend Anna, Sophie begins to see the light at the end of a very dark tunnel. But when she stumbles into an old, run-down house on the Bay of Kotor she surprises even herself when she buys it.
Surrounded by old furniture, left behind by the former inhabitants, Sophie becomes obsessed by a young Balkan couple when she discovers a bundle of letters from the 1940s in a broken roll-top desk. Letters that speak of great love, hope and a mystery Sophie can’t help but get drawn into.
Days in Montenegro are nothing like she expected and as Sophie’s home begins to fill with a motley crew of lodgers the house by the bay begins to breathe again. And for Sophie, life seems to be restarting. But letting go of the past is easier said than done…
Also by Rose Alexander:
Garden of Stars
Under an Amber Sky
Rose Alexander
ROSE ALEXANDER
has had more careers than is probably strictly necessary, including TV producer/director making programmes for all the major broadcasters, freelance feature writer for publications including The Guardian and secondary school English teacher, not forgetting cocktail waitress, melon picker and interior designer.
Writing a novel is, however predictable the line seems, the realization of Rose’s childhood dream and the result of finally finding ‘a voice’. The triumph is that the voice was heard above the racket created by her three children plus rescue cat (tabby white, since you ask).
Follow her on twitter at @RoseA_writer
Contents
Cover (#u210fa89c-5f2b-5818-b30c-df00aa42851e)
Blurb (#ue1a03a54-1b11-565c-9c6f-a2e911ee76f6)
Book List (#u16f14be2-ebcc-5430-a1a7-c6926316e157)
Title Page (#ucffafcc9-82cc-5a49-b956-8397d47b6680)
Author Bio (#ubc5c5f56-e797-5a21-a7a1-117844a5bcb7)
Notes (#ub6cec7d9-99f0-51ef-9443-068f62b48ed4)
Prologue (#ulink_8ef68630-34e9-5557-838c-9c9db4a0c93c)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_260d919b-1f8e-5b80-94be-6029b42822ad)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_850ae0ce-ef2a-5a2b-b6ec-2c23073333af)
Chapter 3 (#ulink_d18aa2e2-f730-5668-9c9e-de647d152d9c)
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Excerpt (#u0e7eb96a-0571-5693-8572-c1f9ee691efc)
Note (#u2afe2763-76d2-5370-98db-868fe5325c7d)
Acknowledgements
Copyright
Alongside the Serbian calendar, the central coastal region of Montenegro has its own names for the months of the year. They are both beautiful and poetic which seems to encapsulate the spirit of the country – one that is small in size but big in heart.
January / sječani – cutting wood
February / veljača – big winter
March / ozujak – wind blows
April / travanj – mowing
May / svibanj – dawning
June / lipanj – flowers
July / srpanj – harvest
August / kolovoz – back from holiday
September / rujan – everything is red like wine
October / listopad – leaves fall
November / studeni – cold
December / prosinac – gathering
The Montenegrin love of liberty and fair play and the Montenegrin sense of honour have made me feel more at home in this far corner of Europe than in any other foreign land.
Edith Durham, British traveller and writer, Through the Lands of the Serb, 1904
NOTE ON THE LANGUAGE
What to call the common tongue spoken in Montenegro, Serbia, Croatia, and Bosnia-Hercegovina is a matter of some controversy. Many readers will remember past times when it was referred to as Serbo-Croat, but this is outdated now. In Montenegro there seem to be two main schools of thought. One is that the language is Serbian and should be named as such. Advocates of this approach maintain that citizens of the USA have no problem saying they speak English and have not attempted to rename it ‘American’. On the other hand, proponents of calling the language Montenegrin claim that there are enough differences, subtle though they may be, for it to be a separate language and that as a source of national pride, it should bear the name of the country.
Equally confusing – to an English speaker – is the interchangeable use of two alphabets: the Latin and the Cyrillic (again with a few small differences from the Russian/Serbian versions). A professor of the Montenegrin language turned estate agent whom I asked about this said that in schools, the time spent using each alphabet is equally divided. Most people seem to fiercely protect this system. Recently, it was proposed that school certificates would be issued in the Latin alphabet only, and parents would have to pay if they wanted them in Cyrillic, which sparked nationwide outrage.
I have settled on using the term Montenegrin for this book, though you will note that Sophie’s language learning book is called Total Serbian. You will not find language primers in any shop that I know of that promote the learning of a tongue called Montenegrin, which is probably unsurprising when the population, at less than 650,000, is so tiny.
Prologue (#ulink_da99939a-e6c9-5956-8147-7bb82999d4ea)
Pushing her bicycle over the crooked slabs of the path and into the front garden where it lived chained to a metal rack under the hedge, Sophie breathed a deep sigh of relief. Friday at last and nearly the holidays, too. Six weeks off work over the summer was definitely the best thing about being a teacher, almost making up for the long hours, stress, and exhaustion of the rest of the year.
As she fumbled for her house keys, she ran through her and Matt’s plans for the weekend. Relaxing at home tonight, dinner out with a gang of people on Saturday, and a walk on Hampstead Heath with their good friends, Sam and Suzie, on Sunday. She also hoped to fit in a trip to John Lewis to choose a new stair carpet.
Alongside all of this ran the frisson of excitement that thrilled through her every time she thought about the fact that she and Matt had, only a couple of weeks before, started trying for a baby. Of course it was far too soon to expect to be pregnant, but the prospect of motherhood in the not too distant future floated tantalizingly before her, eclipsing all other hopes and dreams.
Her phone rang and, fishing it out of the detritus that always seemed to accumulate at the bottom of her bike basket, she noticed that it was an unknown number. She pressed accept and then immediately found herself inwardly cursing; it was bound to be someone she didn’t want or need to talk to, someone selling something or one of those irritating automated PPI calls.
‘Hello,’ she said warily, hovering half on and half off the doorstep, wanting the phone call over before she entered the sanctuary of the flat. There was a pause during which she almost hung up, and then someone said her name, hesitantly, as if testing that it were really her.
‘Sophie?’
She didn’t recognize the voice, though there was something familiar about it.
‘Speaking. Who is it, please?’
‘Sophie!’ The voice had a forced jollity about it that quickly faded. ‘Sophie, it’s Alex here, Matt’s work colleague.’ Alex faltered, then resumed. ‘We’ve met a couple of times, remember?’
Sophie nodded, vague recollections of Alex filtering through her mind. He was a typical city lawyer type, bold and brash, full of himself. He didn’t sound like that now, though. His words were tentative whilst at the same time carrying an undercurrent of urgency. It made her feel uneasy.
‘Nice to talk to –’ Sophie began, but Alex cut in.
‘Sophie, it’s Matt. He’s – well, he’s been taken ill. He’s on his way to hospital.’
‘What do you mean?’ Sophie’s head spun and she reached out her hand to hold on to the door surround, needing to steady herself.
‘The ambulance only took a few minutes to arrive; lucky we’re so near.’
‘Ambulance?’ The juddering realization that Matt must be really sick if it was bad enough to have called an ambulance seared through Sophie and she broke out into a cold sweat.
‘You need to get to the hospital as soon as you can.’ Matt named which one it was but Sophie hardly registered.
‘What’s happened, Alex? Is he OK? Is Matt OK?’ She was shrieking, frightening herself with the noise she was making. It echoed between the houses, rending apart the tranquillity.
‘He’s fine.’ There was a brief, telling pause. She could hear Alex whispering something to someone, but could not make out what he said.
‘I mean, I’m sure he’ll be fine.’ Alex was talking to her again, sounding suddenly much too loud. ‘Look, a cab will be with you in three minutes – it’s already been ordered.’
Sophie was crying, tears pouring down her cheeks and dripping onto the flimsy gauze scarf that kept the wind off her neck when she was cycling. ‘What’s going on?’ she sobbed. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
