First chapter of book

This is the first chapter of my book 'Circle of Spiders' along with a short synopsis.
I'd be grateful for any feedback on it, good or bad (please be gentle though!).
Thanks
Annie

SYNOPSIS CIRCLE OF SPIDERS
Meet Roxanne White, 14. An only child. Or she was until the brats arrived.
Her mother offers a home to a boy from Romania and a girl who has been abused.
Unexplainably drawn to the mountain range behind their cottage, the boy finds a way to have his new ‘sister’ take them there.
Once among the rocks, they are enveloped in a mist which renders them lost and eventually they have to bed down for the night.
Surprised by an Elf, even more when he claims Roxanne is the chosen one, they follow him into the mountains, home to the Tuatha de Danann, mystical people of Irish legend. The Elf is the Grand Seer, with the power to see the future.
Right now it’s not looking good. Devra, a black witch, is back from the Dimension of Non Existence and has vowed to wreak revenge on all mankind with her skill in chaos.
Roxanne alone can save them.
She just has to find the Secret Herd of Unicorn and circle the sorceress with the corn. If Devra gets to the Alpha Stallion first, she will destroy the entire herd and with it the only chance to rid Earth of the witch for ever.
Roxanne doesn’t see herself as a maiden pure and fair. The Grand Elf Sorel admits that he isn’t in charge of determining how it all works, but the vision clearly showed her as the one.
The adventure is full of hazards as Devra follows them knowing she will be led to the Unicorn herd by the children. Not wishing to make it easy she calls upon the help of Trell, King of Dwarves. The evil pair plot to thwart the children’s progress.
During their search, the children explore their own nightmares, each discovering why they have so much anger inside It is the start of a bond that will secure their success in this adventure.



CHAPTER ONE
Roxanne urged Leo on, leaning into his mane, as he progressed from a canter to a gallop. The wind whistled past her face, the pony’s hooves churned up the sand as they sped faster across the beach, spraying them both with salt and silt in a delightful wild abandon.
On the one hand Roxanne felt tingling excitement. Her parents had announced they were to return to Ireland for another summer. But on the other hand this year the brats would be there too. Just why her mother had taken up on this hair-brained idea she would never know - how her father supported it was a complete mind boggler.
Leo now raced full tilt from the slip at the near end of the beach as far as the cliffs that sloped into the sea, about a mile and a half of shoreline. She tried to concentrate on the ride but her mind slipped again.
The brats. Why had mum gone to that event? It had been held in the Town Hall where they lived. A village in the country, population probably less than 3,000, she knew almost everybody that was for sure.
The vicar had discussed the poor little deprived children of the world and what could be done to help. Mum had fallen for it, persuaded Dad it was their ‘duty’ and they had signed up! Geesh, how could they? Never even thinking about her, how she - their only child - would feel. Did they care? No. Had she even been asked? NO, this had been an ‘adult’ decision, not a family one. Obviously.
Now, as she drew close to the cliffs, she drew Leo in, leaning back into her saddle, pulling gently but firmly on her reins to bring him from a gallop back down to a canter, which in turn eased to a trot.
Turning up a narrow sand track that took her across a small dune between the beach and the road, she finally reduced him to a walk, patting him on his neck and tweaking an ear as a thank you.
Leo, her favourite pony on the yard, was a small black cob. A real likely lad, he played up around the nervous. Bridle in hand, hesitate at the stable door, he would turn his back, ensuring the child would run for help. In actual fact, a slap on his rump would suffice – he would meekly turn and stand obediently whilst being tacked up, suitably subdued.
Once on the roads he showed himself to be the perfectly trained pony he really was, so safe he was known as ‘bombproof’.
Roxanne had been hoping to take Leo to a gymkhana before they left on holiday, but the whole event had been cancelled after a TB scare at a nearby farm whose land the show was held on.
For now, she kept last year’s rosettes above her bed as memories of her achievements. Two second places, a fourth in the pony games, and a first in the handy pony class. The red ‘first’ rosette hung over the cup which she was able to keep for a year. It would be handed back with her name neatly inscribed under that of the previous winners, her success sealed in history.
Her mum had promised her that this year she could ride in Ireland. She had found out that there were stables not far from the house they had rented last year, their first trip across the water to that magical place.
Well, that was until the brats had arrived, no doubt everything would change because of them.
Mum had tried to discuss them again the night before.
“The little girls is Mandy, she’s only. Her mother is a single mother with five other children. I won’t go into how I view that, but enough to say the poor thing lived hand to mouth. Her mum just can’t cope with so many children and no job.
Can you imagine, dear, what its like for the poppet, living in a tiny 15th floor flat, sharing a room half the size of yours with four other girls? How could I turn away from such a sad story when we can offer her more?”
“Mum, it’s not like my room fits two in is it?” Roxanne had retorted “. And where is the dear little boy going to live? We only have two bedrooms ourselves, or had it slipped your mind that we don’t actually live in a mansion?” she added sarcastically.
Her mother had ignored the tone in her daughters voice and continued. “Sandu is 10. His father is dead, his mother has two other children and she can’t feed herself let alone the boys. They live in a part of the country where they say gypsies come down at night and steal anything that has been given to the village through aid donations.
The people are too scared of the gypsies and too overpowered by their numbers to stop them. They even take the eggs from the hens, probably the hens themselves. We’ve agreed to have him for six months with a possible view to adoption.”
Roxanne pulled a face and was about to interrupt but her mother held out her hand.
“So, I do ask you that you try to be civil to them both and welcome them into our home. I know they’re a lot younger than you, dear, but they haven’t had the start in life we all have. Compared to them, we DO live in a mansion, be it a two bed roomed semi. Oh, and Sandu will have dad’s study. It’s being adapted, or hadn’t you noticed?” she added with her own touch of satisfied sarcasm.
“Don’t come crying to me when it all goes wrong, your purse goes missing and they eat the dog after selling the sofa and flogging your favourite CD’s, that’s all I can say” Roxanne had stated coldly, standing to leave the table.
“I haven’t finished with you yet”, her mother had raised her voice and caught her arm as she was about to stalk past. “Now sit down and listen to what I have to say”.
Her mum pulled the wooden chair out and pushed Roxanne on the head to signify her daughter was to sit back down and listen.
Roxanne had sat, looking skywards, thinking about when she could go to her room and enjoy the peace whilst she still had it.
“They arrive tomorrow, we will be leaving for our visit to Bramble Cottage a week Sunday and you will be civil young lady. If not - forget the horses,” she had added sternly.
Uh-oh, when riled her mum could get scary. The prospect of not being able to escape even to the stables was too much.
“Ok mother, you win, I shall welcome them in like they were my long lost brother and sister and we shall get along swimmingly. How about that?” she announced in her Queen voice she put on when mimicking posh people.
“That is better girl, even if you are a sarky little madam,” her mum had stifled a grin. The voice was just too realistic and always made her laugh, though this was not a time for a giggle attack.
End of conversation. Roxanne went to her room, put on her headphones and turned up Kaiser Chiefs until it hurt her ears.
Alice had gone to the sink, run the hot tap, squeezed some washing up liquid into the water and stared absently into the window, her reflection staring back. This WILL work she told herself, the children WILL have a better life. She had cried all the way through that meeting at the Town Hall and had resolved to make a difference in the world. She had felt needed again, now that her own daughter was so independent of her she wasn’t able to make jellies, play scrabble or show affection in public.
Now, as Roxanne walked Leo back to the stables she reflected on that conversation and the resulting changes to her life. There they were, an ordinary family living in the mansion formerly known as a two-bed semi with a small back garden and an even smaller front one.
Her dad was a Planning Officer with the local Council and her mum worked part time in the school nursery. An average family. Now they were taking on the world’s problems. Average to superhero in just two brats.
Mum must be going through the change Roxanne decided. In that case maybe she ought to be nicer, make her a cup of tea when she got back. Why had dad agreed though? To keep mum from chopping him up with the kitchen knife she decided in a fit of giggles that made one passer by stare. ‘The menopause.’ It must have kicked in early. She’d read about this old woman thing in one of her mum’s magazines.
Now it made sense! Her mother was mad and her dad was saving his life. Where did she fit in? The weight of it all on her young shoulders! How would she take the burden? Escaping to the horses as often as possible, that was only way.
She arrived back at the yard in good humour. Not even the blackest of moods could remain after a gallop across the beach on her fave pony. She sponged him down with warm water to take the sweat and the salt off, allowing him a long cool drink before putting him in the stable. The next hour was spent making up all the haynets for the nigh. She whistled cheerfully as she checked all the horses had full water buckets.
Sand, hay and horse hair covered her jodhpurs and fleece by the time she arrived home. Her hair, her shining glory of chestnut curls, was a mess after sweating in her hard hat, and the children had indeed arrived.
She was ushered into the lounge by her mum as if she were about to meet a long lost aunt, protesting all the way that she would just catch up with them later after she’d showered and changed. Her mother took her shoulders and projected her into the room.
Mandy was sitting on the blue sofa, hugging a cushion, her legs swinging to and fro as she watched a cartoon.
Her dark brown hair hung long and straggly, down to her waist, her fringe almost to her nose so that she had to keep brushing it back from her eyes to see the television.
Her face was smattered with freckles. She looked almost impish but for the dark circles about her eyes and the skin almost grey from lack of nutrition and fresh air. As she glanced up from the cartoon, her dark eyes bore a sadness that swept over Roxanne in a wave of unexpected emotion. She noticed how skinny the girl was, her cheeks hollow, her arms and legs like matchsticks, though she was making a good job of the chocolate biscuits that sat on a plate next to her.
Mandy looked towards Roxanne, her eyes not making a direct contact, her face showing no expression. She squeaked hello in a little whisper. She turned back to the television and tried to lift her legs into the cushion, as if she wanted to disappear behind it.
Roxanne shook the feeling of pity from her thoughts, after all, this kid was already taking her mum’s attention. Why should she worry? The girl would live. Her mother would have Mandy fattened up in no time, spoiling her with all the goodies that should have been hers.
On the chair the boy sat as still as a statue. He was very dark, his hair jet black, his eyes black, and his skin deep mahogany.
He looked very intense, almost brooding, if a boy of 10 could indeed brood. He too looked gaunt and in need of food, his clothes worn and mis-matched, the corduroy trousers riding half way up his leg. She stifled a giggle, with that check shirt the image of a lumberjack flashed through her head.
The charity had burnt the stinking, torn remnants he was found in, replacing them with a selection of clothes from various jumble collected at the bring shop.
Sandu looked hard at Roxanne but didn’t speak. He didn’t care for introductions; he had no emotional attachment to anyone now his mother had deserted him. He had no reason to acknowledge this girl. But he wasn’t scared of her, he wasn’t scared of anything, not anymore.
“Hello kids” Roxanne lifted her hand up next to her face as if to wave, giving a fake smile before turning back her mother.
“Ok – I’ve introduced myself, now I have to change and shower mum, I’ll be down in a while to ‘bond’ “.
With that she shot upstairs and stayed in the hot shower as long as she dared.
Sitting back downstairs in the lounge once more clean and warm, she looked at them in sulky silence. One sat like a statue, not even twitching a muscle, whilst the other just tried to shrink into the cushion again.
Her mother came in with a breezy smile, some hot chocolate for the children and two plates of toast with honey, none for Roxanne.
Roxanne glared at her mother, stood up very dramatically and left the room, slamming her bedroom door shut and locking it. When Alice knocked on her door and asked if she had wanted some hot chocky too she turned her music up louder in response.
Sandu had watched how Roxanne looked. He was finding it difficult to understand the language but he had no problems understanding facial expression.
He had seen so much hatred, so much greed, so much death in his short life he was ultra sensitive to moods and expression. This girl looked like she was jealous, though he couldn’t understand why. She had a mother, a father and a nice home. He had no one.
Alice took her daughters pouting with a pinch of salt, she’d get over her tantrum. For now she had two little cherubs to fuss over and care for. She craved that feeling of being needed, something her daughter hadn’t needed for some years now. She had even made the children jelly in the shape of a bunny. The mould she’d hidden rather than throw after Roxanne had told her she never wanted to see it again. Ever.
Roxanne had declared its removal after her 8th birthday when John Davidson had told Roxanne she was a baby to have jelly bunnies.
Roxanne hadn’t wanted to go to school the next day, but since then she had got her revenge on John. She had grown up. Now, at the age of 13, all the guys in the class wanted to be her boyfriend and she made it very clear to John he didn’t stand a hope in hell. In fact she made it very clear he wasn’t even welcome to look at her. With her apple green eyes, and those long chestnut waves she turned heads and she knew it.
She adored clothes and when not at the stables she was in town shopping with friends. Jeans were like a major part of her wardrobe but she loved little tops with lace or ribbon. Dressed up she could get away with looking 16, though most of the time she was happy to be her age.
During the following week in the family ‘mansion’, Roxanne discovered that Mandy could talk to her mother or Sandu, but she clammed up as soon as she came near. The first day Mr White had come home Mandy had wet herself and rushed to hide in another room, It was only his warm smile and the new Barbie doll offered that coaxed her out.
She was also prone to throwing things if she got upset.
That bit really limited Roxanne’s patience, especially when her horse mug flew through the air. She wasn’t allowed to retaliate, much as she wanted to thump the little ragdoll. Roxanne was sharply reminded by her mum that if Mandy had done something wrong her mother would fly into a rage and hit her. Mandy would then take it out on the other children, throwing whatever came to hand at them. To start verbal or physical aggression would only be reverting to what she had been saved from. What she needed was support, patience and explanations. ‘Break the cycle’ was her mum’s mantra.
Patience was something Roxanne was short on. She gritted her teeth and tried to explain to the little brat why she was so displeased that that particular mug was broken.
“I like won it in a gymkhana thank you, now I shall have to bin it. Can’t exactly drink out if it now and remember my win can I”.
Mandy burst out crying and Alice glared scornfully at Roxanne. Roxanne stared back, she wasn’t too happy her mug was in pieces either, thanks for the support and understanding, mum, she quietly seethed. She found refuge once more in her room.
Sandu spoke only if directly spoken to. It didn’t help his English wasn’t very good, but mum had an answer for everything.
A blackboard had appeared as a method of drawing what they wanted to say to each other. It actually made him smile for the first time. It worked unless Mandy wanted to ‘say something, she would get carried away, chalk would break and then she’d panic and hide under a chair.
Sandu was very sweet with her; he stayed calm and tried to communicate back to her. By day four Sandu was using the board to play with Mandy as if to draw her out of her mood, turning a potential tantrum into a quiet acceptance.
Roxanne was finding it all hard to cope with. Her parents were going out of their way to show love to these brats, but were ignoring her. When she wanted to watch a television programme she was told Mandy wanted to watch Disney Channel. When she wanted a sandwich she was told to make the other two a sandwich first. When she wanted breakfast cereal she found the children had eaten it all and she went to school hungry.
Her one refuge used to be her bedroom, but that too was out of bounds between 7 and 8pm when Mandy went to bed. Roxanne’s mum would bathe both children, dry Mandy’s hair, read them stories, tucking them up lovingly and giving them a goodnight kiss.
It was only after 10pm when Roxanne could finally sink back on her pillow, close her eyes and try to forget the nightmare. If it wasn’t for Ireland she’d seriously contemplate running away.
That week before school end passed in a haze of end of term events, speech days, reports and results. After school she joined her mates at the Blue Island Café, the trendiest coffee shop in town, all jostling and talking about holidays. She had to wait for the bus to take her to the village which gave her time to see Max. He was in Year 10 and fit. He seemed to like her and wanted to see more of her in the holidays.
Roxanne liked him a lot, but she was far too excited about Connemara to think about Max. Connemara had the most fantastic mountain ranges. She adored Maamturks with its views to Roundstone Bog, where they rented their house overlooking Dog’s Bay. Now she would be able to bike the three miles to Ballyconneely where the Truska stables were.
Seventeen Connemara ponies to choose from she had read in the information guide. She would ask for a palomino if they had one, or a white one if they didn’t. Did she really even care? Just being able to ride during the stay was a bonus.
And there was Ben. She tingled at the thought. Ben was the real reason that she was prepared to leave with her old fogey parents and the brats.
Ben. When she had first set eyes on him he had a bongo of crab slung over his shoulders, all rippling muscles, galoshers up to his thighs and a yellow plastic apron with no T.Shirt underneath. A red scarf was tied around his neck like a bandana and the boss of the fishing boat was shouting at him to hurry up, there were another six bongos to unload yet.
He would be 15 this year, tall with salt-bleached sandy hair and a weather beaten tan. To Roxanne he was fitter than Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp rolled into one and he was real.
She closed her eyes and pictured the scene when they had first met. She could smell him from where she stood a few feet away behind the pots and other fishermen offloading their catch for the chefs of local restaurants to fight over. Well, actually, all she could smell was fish and it stank, but that wasn’t romantic so she had deleted that bit from her memory
He had looked directly at her and stopped in his tracks, a faint smile entering the right side of his face. He winked and then carried on his work, throwing a couple of expletives behind him aimed at the older man on deck.
Roxanne had stood there until he had finished unloading, taken off his apron and galoshes and covered his bare torso with a white T.Shirt. He had sauntered over to her all smiles.
“You interested in any of this?” he had asked her in a beautifully soft Irish lilt, sweeping his hand over the array of shellfish on offer. Along with the crab were clams, cockles, mussels, shrimps, scallop, lobster and even sea urchins, all still alive and covered in seaweed.
“Only when it’s on my plate” she had replied, trying hard to look as cool and relaxed, when she could in fact feel herself getting hotter.
“Have you just arrived?” he asked her.
“Yes, about five minutes ago”
“And you’re down here already, you must be hungry!” he laughed.
She felt herself turning decidedly pink at the misunderstanding.
“Oh no, I mean, like, we’ve been here for a few days already, I just wanted to take a walk and I’ve been here on the quay about like five minutes”, she spluttered, wishing she didn’t feel like jelly.
“Where are you from? His green eyes now fixed on her so much it threw her, making her stammer slightly.
“Southport, well, just outside the town actually, about 10 minutes away”
“Here for long?”
“Five weeks”
“Five weeks ay, maybe give me time to make your acquaintance a little better”.
Just as he spoke the old man called out again.
“Ben, get your backside here and quit the chat up, ye’ve got work to do and we ain’t finished yet boy”
“Ay dad, be over now” he called over his shoulder, turning back to Roxanne with a wink, putting his hand on her shoulder for an instant. She felt a jolt of electricity run between them.
“Be here at 5.00 this evening if you like”, and he was off, yelling at his father to stop being such a bully and to do something for himself for a change.
Roxanne had walked back to Bramble Cottage in a dream. She had a date with the most dreamy looking boy she had ever seen.
She recalled how they had begun the secret meetings. They met up whenever work or parents allowed and spent hours talking as they held hands, walking around Roundstone Bogs.
Ben taught her much about the area, showed her the flowers that could be found in the peat, the birds that came to the site and about the fish he helped his dad catch at weekends and school holidays.
He was gentle and thoughtful when with her, though when she saw him with a group of lads he pretended not to know her. They had all wolf whistled and called to her as she walked past with her mum on a shopping trip. She could have died and told him so the next time they met. He was full of remorse, but he had a reputation to keep in the village. If they knew he was seeing a 12 year old they would tease him forever. She had punched him in the arm for it which had been like hitting solid wood. He had rolled her onto her back and jumped on her, tickling her and kissing her face over and over in apology until she screamed for mercy. Well, the kissing she kinda liked. A lot.
When she left at the end of the holidays they had both been in tears. She had told him she would write but he asked not, she would move on and meet someone else.
His future was working with his dad on the shores of Connemara. He would retain her in his memory for the dark winter months.
So, when her parents had announced they were once again heading back to the same cottage a year later, Roxanne’s heart had almost exploded with emotion. Her only worry was that he had forgotten her and would be seeing someone else.
Now, in three days, she would find out and no one was going to keep her from going. Not the brats, not her friends and not Max. Max was kind of cute, but he was no match for Ben.