OMG
This first chapter is centred around Alex Price/Drakes life, because I'm trying to do a Galexy story that will also be more about the whole ashes situation.
Alex Price sat at the window of her bedroom watching the rain fall like tears down the glass. She had decided on her ninth birthday that she wanted people to call her 'Alex' from now on, although Evan still insisted on 'Scrap'. Her reasoning was simple, from then on, no one would ever again call her 'Lex', and that would forever remain her parents name for her. After all, she thought, since she had been robbed of any further time with them, she was due a way of keeping them special to her.
Evan White had lost track of time, and before he knew it, Alex had grown up. Ten years ago, he had had no idea what he was letting himself in for, but now that the screaming rows, late night curfews and groundings were over, the horrific guilt of all those years seemed to have ebbed away, to be replaced with only the pride he felt towards the young woman waving from the back of the taxi that was whisking her away to University. And although he'd tried his best to shield her over the years from any further pain, he felt now a great sense of dread fall over him as she set off into the world, no longer with him to protect her from what might lie ahead.
Alex woke with a start. Unlike back home, the noise to bring her back to the world was not the gentle strains of the radio, or the stirrings of her darling daughter, but instead the shrill ring of the telephone. Propping herself up and supporting her hangover-enveloped head, she picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Oi Drakey, did I wake you?" Inwardly she cursed the static and inadequacy of eighties phones as his voice seemed to bite through her head. She didn't even have time to think up a reply. "Too bloody bad. Get your lazy, privately educated buttocks over to CID pronto, dear Raymond's landed us in a spot of bother."
"Is this how you treat all the girls mister Hunt?" she said, her voice dripping with acidic sweetness to try and rile him.
"No, I save only my most charming and devastatingly attractive persona for layabout old nags of coppers like your very good self. Who I will be needing around my station sharpish." There was a pause as he drew in breath, and when he next spoke, it was in hushed tones. "Get your genius head where it should be, Bolls. This one is going to be a tough one, and I need you by my side." As the dial tone sounded, she wondered why his last sentence had left her with butterflies in her stomach.
A short taster, worth carrying on? Reject ...