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Like Bees to Honey
Caroline Smailes
In her third novel, acclaimed author of ‘In Search of Adam’ and ‘Black Boxes’ Caroline Smailes draws upon her own family history for a remarkable and unforgettable story of loss and redemption.Nina travels to Malta with her five-year-old son Christopher. She left the island at the age of nineteen to study at Liverpool University but fell pregnant and was disowned by her family. Following a car accident her relationship with her husband breaks down and she feels compelled to return home, taking her young son with her in the hope of reconciliation with her father and siblings.Once in Malta, strange things start to happen. Nina discovers that the island is full of souls in various stages of transition. Malta is the place where the dead all travel to before they pass over and she is visited by seven of them who, in turn, try to help her deal with the issues that have brought her to the island after so many years away.As Nina travels round Malta and learns more from each friendly spirit she begins to understand why she has really come back and is forced to face some startling truths which will haunt the reader long after they put the book down.Caroline Smailes built up a significant cult following with her first two books, with Like Bees to Honey she has written a remarkable story which will break her through to the mainstream audience she so richly deserves.
Like Bees to Honey
~b
an-na
al lejn l-g
asel
Caroline Smailes
Remembering, always, my grandparents George Dixon and Helen Dixon (née Cauchi).
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u9a675aa1-c1a1-5a81-baea-e15307588027)
Title Page (#u124abbb3-b1d6-5f5b-9c47-74b29c4761bf)
Dedication (#u4e655143-eb64-58cf-a2ff-fb2c5ebd0992)
Excerpt (#ueb830f48-6e43-5299-96b4-cc69f9211938)
Xejn (#ue2a4df9c-159a-528c-a80b-1eb9ca843466)
Wie
ed (#u84224282-424f-5fe6-89af-e77eceefda64)
Tnejn (#u2b274cb2-9dc8-52f7-9a80-86690ebd158b)
Tlieta (#u348dbd36-8dc1-5574-90a8-d5e9715adf79)
Erbg
a (#uf2469c62-50c1-56f3-b45f-eb2c3b99839e)
êamsa (#uf30ec863-ed29-5711-a6fe-76f2b7218dfb)
Sitta (#u30d02db2-45f5-5db5-b45d-0f1147a7c583)
Sebg
a (#uce33d830-c981-5110-90e4-46c62e87822b)
Tmienja (#u739fa827-0c80-545e-b287-0b84657f2049)
Disg
a (#u81835abc-0671-56f6-bb22-b24c7128d5d0)
G
axra (#litres_trial_promo)
dax (#litres_trial_promo)
Tnax (#litres_trial_promo)
Elena (#litres_trial_promo)
Tlettax (#litres_trial_promo)
Erbatax (#litres_trial_promo)
mistax (#litres_trial_promo)
Sittax (#litres_trial_promo)
Sbatax (#litres_trial_promo)
Tmintax (#litres_trial_promo)
Tilly (#litres_trial_promo)
Dsatax (#litres_trial_promo)
Tilly (#litres_trial_promo)
G
oxrin (#litres_trial_promo)
Wie
ed u g
oxrin (#litres_trial_promo)
Flavia (#litres_trial_promo)
Tnejn u g
oxrin (#litres_trial_promo)
Tlieta u g
oxrin (#litres_trial_promo)
Tilly (#litres_trial_promo)
Erba’ u g
oxrin (#litres_trial_promo)
amsa u g
oxrin (#litres_trial_promo)
Sitta u g
oxrin (#litres_trial_promo)
Seba’ u g
oxrin (#litres_trial_promo)
Tmienja u g
oxrin (#litres_trial_promo)
Disa’ u g
oxrin (#litres_trial_promo)
Tletin (#litres_trial_promo)
Wie
ed (#litres_trial_promo)
Nixtieq nirringrazzja (#litres_trial_promo)
Preview (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Caroline Smailes (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#ulink_595988b3-ea58-55ec-8b5e-7db470aae3dc)
‘You sent for me sir?’
‘Yes Clarence. A man down on Earth needs our help.’
‘Splendid! Is he sick?’
‘No. Worse. He’s discouraged. At exactly 10.45 p.m., Earth-time, that man will be thinking seriously of throwing away God’s greatest gift.’
~It’s a Wonderful Life, 7 January 1947 (USA)
Xejn (#ulink_b3f324dc-9027-512d-85b9-5c5f9e956601)
~zero
Christopher Robinson, born 20 December 1991.
I remember the exact moment when Christopher first realised.
We were standing together, in my mother’s kitchen, in Malta. He had been unusually quiet.
I asked him, ‘What’s wrong Cic
io?’
He looked up to me and whispered, ‘Can you see the mejtin too, Mama?’
~dead people.
I looked at my five-year-old son, shocked, confused, thrilled.
‘Dead people,’ he translated. ‘Can you see the dead people too, Mama?’
Wie
ed (#ulink_9703ceaa-86eb-5a26-90fe-21d12f1ed890)
~one
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I am focusing on the woman, the one in front of me, her, with the black high high heels. She is wearing tight white jeans. I think they call them skinny jeans. She is wearing white socks and black heels, her. My son, Christopher, is standing next to me. He will not speak. I am focusing on her. I am focusing on her calves and on her black shoes. The heels are caked in mud, dry mud, around the tip of the cone. The mud is speckled up the back of her, of her calves, over her white skinny jeans.
