one secret that changes everything.
Erin and Laura are cousins and best friends who share a love of languages and travel.
Erin, a French teacher in Dublin, reaches crisis point and drops everything to move to Australia. In Sydney, not only does she land the perfect job, but she meets the perfect man. Finally, her life is falling into place. Except Sydney isn't home, and never can be.
Back in Ireland, Laura is struggling. Her husband appears distant, her work life is spinning out of control and her daughter's strange new nanny is undermining her at every turn. She longs to travel in Erin's footsteps, to drop everything and run far away. But these are dangerous thoughts for a mother and wife.
Erin and Laura desperately try to find their place in the world, a shocking family secret comes to light, and nothing will ever be the same again.
Chapter 1
Dublin, February 2010
Erin gazed at the narrow, jagged lines streaked across the window panes. The rain had ice in it. All day it had been coming in short, bitter bursts, whipping sideways against the glass. It felt reassuring to be inside, and to imagine, rather than experience, how cold and sharp it would feel against her bare head. The room was artificially warm and bright, the oil heaters lending a slight stuffiness to the air, the electric lights overcompensating for the gloominess outside. It would be dark by the time she left school at four o’clock and, if the weather forecast was to be believed, it would be freezing by early evening.
‘Tristan Keary, stop that right now!’
‘Sorry, Miss.’
‘It’s Mademoiselle, not Miss.’
‘Sorry, Mademoiselle Donovan.’
‘Sorry? I thought we were in a French class here.’
Tristan looked blank, an expression he had practised and perfected since the day he’d started secondary school, in fact maybe since the moment he’d been born. Erin emitted a long-suffering, very teacher-like sigh.
‘Emily, please tell Tristan how to apologise en français.’
‘Pardonnez-moi.’
‘Merci, Emily. Tristan?’
‘Pardonnez-moi, Miss – I mean, Mademoiselle.’
‘Lucky for you, Tristan, that an apology somehow sounds far more genuine when it’s said in French! Now, everyone, continue with your work, please.’
Erin stared at her students until one by one they succumbed, heads swooping towards exercise books, pens twirling in thought, and silence – beautiful, rare silence – crept across the classroom and into the recesses of her head. Not pure silence, of course. Sighs, sniffs, shuffles and position-changing in chairs, rulers clattering against desks, the rain thrashing against the glass, thwarted in its attempts to get in, the sound of paper being torn – coming from Tristan’s direction? – all removed the possibility of complete quiet. Nevertheless, it was as close to silence as Erin would get in the remaining twenty minutes of this forty-minute class and it was to be enjoyed.
In these rare moments of quiet, she often paused to consider how fond she was of them, her students, and this class of third years in particular. Each of them, in their own unique way, had a special place in her heart: Emily, bright, earnest, a question always hovering on the tip of her tongue waiting to be asked – its answer, when provided, promptly analysed and catalogued for future use; Tom, awkward, self-conscious, far too serious; sweet little Aoife, always so eager to please; Darragh, accident-prone, writing clumsily with his left hand, his right in plaster after tripping over in the school yard last week, his second broken bone since Erin had known him; Aaron, looking achingly more adult than his classmates, downy hair on his upper lip, his long legs folded under the desk, towering over Erin and most of the other teachers in the school; Lisha, originally from Nigeria, who had arrived in Ireland and into this class two years ago but who remained on the outer and unsure of her place amongst these teenagers who were the same age as her but with so little else in common. Even Tristan, with all his bravado and clowning around, was special. Erin hadn’t told them yet that she was leaving, that this was her second-last week at St Patrick’s Community School. She would tell them next week. She smiled to herself as she imagined the outcry at her news.
‘But, Miss, I mean Mademoiselle, it’s the middle of the school year!’
‘And this is our Junior Cert year. The most important year of our lives!’
‘Why are you going? Is it something we did? Is it Tristan?’
‘Of course it’s not me, knuckle-head!’
‘Who will we get now? Don’t say Grouchy Gallas! Not her, please. Anyone but her!’
Erin would miss them – more than she could ever tell them. She felt guilty for leaving like this, in the middle of the academic year, the Junior Cert exams looming on the horizon. She wished that she had it in her to stay, that she could hold it together for another few months and guide them through the mock exams and then the real thing.
‘Is it your health, Mademoiselle? Is it because of your heart?’
She imagined that Aoife, trying harder than the others, would hit closest to home. Yes, it was her health, and in many ways it was her heart, too. Despite the guilt, the worry that they might do badly in their exams because of her untimely departure, the suspicion that Madame Gallas would be too stern with them and ruin their enjoyment of the language, Erin felt sheer and utter relief that she only had the bones of one more week to get through. She was hanging on by a thread, the thinnest thread imaginable. Part of her, the part that felt a week was interminably long, wanted to stand up right now and walk without explanation from the classroom, through the grid of corridors that led to the main door, outside into the stinging rain, breaking into a run halfway down the drive, no longer able to disguise or control how desperately she needed to get away. In light of thoughts like this, and the disruption they’d already suffered in term one due to her ‘heart’ trouble (which had in fact been a severe – not to say, excruciatingly embarrassing – panic attack), it was much better that her students had someone more steady to guide them over the coming months.
The sounds of fidgeting increased in volume, a sign that some of the students had finished their assignment. Erin’s attention was required, to control those students who were finished and allow the slower ones to complete their work in some degree of peace and quiet.
‘Tom, avez-vous terminé?’
‘Oui, Mademoiselle.’
‘Apportez-le ici.’
Tom gathered his book and pencil and, looking as though the weight of the world were on his shoulders, loped towards her desk. Erin quickly marked his work, keeping one eye on the classroom, particularly Darragh and Tristan, who looked as if they were up to no good.
~~I received this in exchange for an honest review~~
This was a book about learning what makes you the most happy in life, and finding out if you want what you are familiar with. This is the first book that I have read by Ber, and it isn't going to be the last. It is a nice change of pace to read something that has nothing to do about sex. This book is more the journey to happiness and making sure that you know who you are and where you come from. Now, this book does have a twist to it, one that I didn't see coming at all. Ber describes the scenery very well, so well, that I saw where Erin was at, and what it looked like.
I am glad that I read this book, and I can't wait until I read more of Ber's work!
This was a book about learning what makes you the most happy in life, and finding out if you want what you are familiar with. This is the first book that I have read by Ber, and it isn't going to be the last. It is a nice change of pace to read something that has nothing to do about sex. This book is more the journey to happiness and making sure that you know who you are and where you come from. Now, this book does have a twist to it, one that I didn't see coming at all. Ber describes the scenery very well, so well, that I saw where Erin was at, and what it looked like.
I am glad that I read this book, and I can't wait until I read more of Ber's work!
Ber Carroll was born in Blarney, County Cork, and moved to Australia in 1995. Her first novel, Executive Affair, was inspired by her initial impressions of Sydney, and her exciting, dynamic work environment at the time. Ber now lives in Sydney’s northern beaches with her husband and two children. Worlds Apart is her sixth novel. Incidentally, Ber is short for Bernadette, but please don’t call her Bernadette: this is what her mother calls her when she is in trouble for something.
Ber’s novels have been published in five countries, including Ireland. If you would like to know more about Ber and her novels, you can visit her website at www.bercarroll.com, or you can subscribe to her newsletter (Book Chat) with fellow authors Dianne Blacklock and Liane Moriarty (see Ber’s website for a link to the newsletter and to find Ber on Facebook).
Worlds Apart is available in hard copy or e-book. It can be purchased on Amazon, Book Depository,Booktopia, Apple iTunes, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and many other online sites.
- 'Ber Carroll has given us a cast of warm, engaging characters in a sparkling story that crosses the globe between Ireland and Australia. I enjoyed every page of this touching, authentic novel.' - Liane Moriarty.
- 'This novel is a wonderful full-bodied read. Ber Carroll has a clever eye for characterisation and story.' - Cathy Kelly
- 'With all the humour and empathy of Binchy ... Carroll captures the conflicts and compromises women make.' - Daily Telegraph
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