Chapter 1
8th. September 1990
Within hours Phillip Fairfax well ordered life would crumble like the walls of Jericho.
Six o' clock in the morning and Isabel Fairfax woke with a smile on her face. As she lay under her warm down filled duvet, her hands explored her swollen belly feeling for the miraculous signs of life within her. Isabel was seven months pregnant with her first child.
It was sunny on that early September morning and the first rays of sunshine crept into the small bedroom. Although it had rained hard during the night, it promised to be a warm and cloudless day. Isabel could not remember when she had ever been so happy.
In this small rural village of Bredwardine in a quiet corner of Herefordshire only a few leaves had shown any inclination to don their autumn plumage. Summer was still clinging on stubbornly in this bucolic part of England which was chiefly known for it's famous red and white cattle and its fragrant hop fields.
This was a vastly different world to the one Isabel had recently left which had been a world of high finance in the frantic bustle of London's commercial banking district. But despite her earlier fears that this life would be less challenging she had begun to settle down amongst the rolling hills of the Welsh border county and had begun to embrace "life in the long grass" as her husband Phillip referred to it.
After a brief shower, Isabel slipped into a cotton print dress that sacrificed any pretence at style for the sake of comfort. As a precaution against mercurial weather she also put on a cashmere cardigan. She smiled as she looked at her unfamiliar reflection in the mirror.
After a nourishing breakfast of poached eggs, fresh fruit and yoghurt, she jotted down items she needed from the Hereford market. As she did this she allowed her mind to wander. She thought of her husband who was "playing soldiers" with his regiment in the bleak landscape of the Brecon Beacons. Looking out of the window at the peacefully grazing sheep, Isabel daydreamed of her future with Phillip as they raised their family together in this rural idyll. These images in her mind evoked feelings of utter contentment and a deeply fulfilling new purpose to her life.
Reluctantly she dragged herself out of her reverie and tried to concentrate on more practical aspects of the day ahead. Grabbing her grocery list and a pink dry-cleaning receipt that was attached to the fridge door by a magnet advertising the virtues of using the Green Apple Sludge Company for septic waste management, Isabel pushed them into her handbag. She smiled again at the recollection of Phillip laughing at the Sludge Company's motto, "We're the Number 1 in a Number 2 business". It had always amused him. She slung her cavernous bag over her shoulder and headed for the door. Collecting her bunch of keys from the hall table, Isabel did a quick mental re-cap to make sure she had everything she needed. Closing the front door behind her she headed for the green Range Rover that was parked in the driveway.
Isabel Fairfax slid into the roomy leather clad interior of her husband Phillip's vehicle. Tossing her bag onto the passenger seat she adjusted the steering wheel to accommodate her expanding girth. She adjusted the mirror and seat and inserting the key gave it a gentle turn. The powerful V8 motor immediately came to life. Checking the mirror once more, she selected first gear and released the parking brake. Gently Isabel eased her foot off the clutch and effortlessly guided the large vehicle along the flat drive and then towards the steep slope to the main road.
The explosion shook the entire village. Every window within a half mile radius was either blown in or cracked. Burning debris shot skywards and landed on the roof of houses either side of Isabel's. Small patches of grass and bushes burned in every direction and pieces of smoking, jagged metal fell like arrows raining down on some ancient battlefield. When the last piece had fallen there was quiet. Total and utter quiet. Every living creature was stunned into a shocked silence. Slowly people emerged from their cottages. Cautiously at first. They looked at the scene before them in stunned disbelief. No-one spoke.
It was said later that the blast was heard over four miles away. By the time the fire crew arrived on the scene, the Range Rover was a smoldering pile of burning rubber and twisted metal. The bonnet of the car had been hurled over fifty yards from the epicentre of the bomb. It stuck, still smoking, into a neighbouring lawn like a large crooked tombstone.
Isabel too was some distance from the main wreckage. She lay quite still and lifeless: bloodied, burnt and blackened by fire and smoke. She was minus both her legs. Her gashed torso showed up with pink and red slashes against her charred body, from which wisps of smoke still emanated . It left nothing to remind anyone of the vibrant young blond who, only minutes before, had been so happy and alive. Isabel and her baby were gone.
