In Case You Missed It: Hilarious, uplifting and heart warming - 2020’s funniest new romantic comedy from the Sunday Times bestselling author

by Lindsey Kelk

  ‘Smashed it,’ Sumi declared, clinking her glass against mine. ‘Ten out of ten.’

  ‘I think I’m getting better at public speaking,’ I said, my smile growing as I made eye contact with John and he winked.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Everyone was laughing and talking and eating and hugging, the way it should be at a wedding. John was serving up drinks behind the bar, Sumi and Jemima were on the dance floor and Adrian and Eva were sitting beside my sleeping nan, completely oblivious to everything around them and gazing into each other’s eyes, while Nan snored away, head right back, propped up against the wall.

  Before anyone could miss me, I slipped downstairs and out the back door of the bar, skirting around the alleyway to watch a busy Saturday afternoon in Borough Market. The sun had gone back in, leaving us with a pale grey sky and, thankfully, tolerable temperatures.

  ‘Now or never,’ I said to myself, taking out my phone and hitting the call button. ‘Stiffen the sinews and summon the blood.’

  She answered immediately.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Veronica?’ I asked with shaking hands.

  ‘Ros.’

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘What do you want?’ a cigarette-fried voice barked down the line.

  Hardly able to believe what I was about to say, I launched into my pitch. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said,’ I told her. ‘And you’re right.’

  ‘I’m always right,’ Veronica agreed. ‘What specifically was I right about this time?’

  ‘About having a podcast of your own,’ I replied, pulling the phone away from my ear at the sound of commotion down the line. ‘Veronica?’

  ‘Get off the phone, you little arse,’ the agent shrieked, the sound of a teenage boy wheedling in the background. ‘Yes it’s Ros and no, she doesn’t want to talk to you. Let go of my fucking arm.’

  I winced as Veronica and Max bickered back and forth, ducking underneath an archway as I felt the first drop of rain fall from the sky.

  ‘Max wants to know if you’re free to go to the cinema tomorrow and do you want to go ice skating first?’ Veronica asked, a wheeze in her voice. Clearly she had only won the fight on a conditional basis.

  ‘Tomorrow isn’t great,’ I said slowly. ‘And I’m not much of a skater.’

  ‘She can’t do tomorrow,’ I heard her yell away from the phone. ‘Great, now he’s crying. What were you saying? A podcast?’

  I nodded furiously. ‘Yes, you should have a podcast. Wait, what do you mean he’s crying? Is he all right?’

  ‘He’s right as a fucking bobbin,’ Veronica replied. ‘Came home from that shitshow yesterday, bounced up and down on his trampoline for three hours then booked the entire family a holiday to Florida. We’re going to Harry Potter world on Tuesday. He wanted to invite you to that too but I said he might be coming on a bit strong.’

  ‘I like Harry Potter,’ I began before immediately correcting myself. ‘But no, you’re right, bit much. Anyway, sorry, podcast. You should have a podcast. You have a fascinating story and helpful advice and I’ve never met anyone like you. You should have a podcast.’

  She considered my suggestion for a moment.

  ‘At PodPad?’

  ‘Hmm, no,’ I said. ‘I don’t work at PodPad any more. After yesterday, we decided to part ways.’

  I held the phone away from my ear as she cackled loudly down the other end.

  ‘Good, everyone there was a complete twat,’ she replied, clearing her throat and hacking up what sounded like at least half of one lung. ‘But if you’re not there, how are you going to get me a podcast?’

  ‘I’m going to launch my own network,’ I announced. ‘For women and non-binary creators, only interesting stories and a strictly zero-arsehole policy. I’m calling it BroadCast and I want you to be my business partner.’

  Veronica coughed again before taking a long, thoughtful drag.

  ‘You mean you want me to invest in it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Honesty was, after all, the best policy. ‘I mean, I’m going to do it either way but I’d love to have your expertise on board. And your cash.’

  ‘Convenient that I’ve got loads of my own cash and a fourteen-year-old investor who’s completely in love with you,’ Veronica said, her creaky voice warming up with what sounded like a smile.

  ‘Would it be ethical?’ I asked, holding out my hand and feeling another raindrop fall. ‘I mean, to have Max invest in it?’

  ‘Probably not but since I’m in charge of his finances, I’m not terribly worried,’ she replied. ‘The only problem we have is if you shit the bed and lose all his money. Here’s how I see it, you’re an intelligent woman, Ros. An intelligent woman who is passionate about what she does. For fuck’s sake, you very nearly got a half-decent podcast out of a grumpy teenage game player who likes to wear animal masks. How impressive is that?’

  ‘Quite impressive?’

  ‘And if that’s not enough, I’m an even more intelligent woman with a lot of business savvy behind me,’ she continued, selling herself on the idea as she went. ‘I know how to make things work. And you’re right, there are a lot of stories out there and someone should be telling them. Stories by women, stories for women, fuck it, even stories by men who aren’t shit-scared of women. Not that I’ve ever met many of those. Someone should be doing it.’

  ‘And that someone is me and you,’ I told her, a thrill running through me, all thoughts of PodPad and Washington and the past fading away. Failures were only failures if you didn’t learn from them and I had learned so much. See? I had learned something useful from Starting Over. ‘You don’t have to decide right now,’ I said. ‘But—’

  ‘Fuck it, let’s do it.’

  A loud cheer was followed by a heavy cough and the flick of a cigarette lighter.

  ‘Seriously?’ I hopped up and down on the spot, registering a few strange looks from people passing by. Nothing like an adult bridesmaid doing a jig in the middle of Borough Market outside in the rain to attract attention.

  ‘Get your arse to the Snazzlechuff compound at nine a.m. Monday and we’ll start our plan of attack before I have to drag my arse around Hogwarts for a week,’ she confirmed. ‘Now, are you sure you’re out for Florida?’

  ‘I’m sure,’ I replied, looking sadly up at the grey sky.

  ‘All right then,’ she replied. ‘Fuck off and enjoy your Saturday, I’ll see you Monday morning.’

  And the call ended with a beep.

  I dashed back towards Good Luck Bar right as the rain began to fall again in earnest.

  ‘Be still my beating heart, Rosalind Reynolds, you look spectacular.’

  Right as Patrick appeared.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked, swiping a damp strand of hair off my face and taking him in: the hopeful smile, his beautiful grey suit, his light pink shirt and big black umbrella.

  ‘I got the email with the change of venue,’ he explained. There was something oddly hesitant about his demeanour, something I wasn’t used to.

  ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it. What are you doing here?’

  Underneath his umbrella, Patrick’s face fell. ‘I came to see you,’ he said quietly. ‘I was really hoping you might be pleased to see me.’

  My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. ‘Are you being serious? After everything we said yesterday?’

  ‘It was just a fight,’ he said, coming closer. I backed away, towards the door of the bar, listening to the happy sounds mixing with music just a few steps away. ‘Couples fight, don’t they? I know we never did before but they do, you know. And I’m sorry, I’m truly very sorry.’

  And I thought I was lost for words before.

  ‘We never fought before because I didn’t let us,’ I told him as the rain fell with more enthusiasm. ‘I always agreed with you so you wouldn’t be upset, that’s why we never argued.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be like that this time,’ Patrick said, his light blue eyes
clouded over like the sky. ‘It can be the way we said it would be, total honesty. After you left, I tried to sit down and write and I couldn’t. You know how easy it is for me to turn everything off and focus on the work? But I couldn’t do it, there was something blocking me. I thought I was angry with you but eventually I realized, I was angry with myself.’

  It was a lot to take in all at once. I’d fantasized about being with Patrick for so long but it turned out hearing him apologize was more erotic than anything else I could have even dreamed of.

  ‘I haven’t been fair. I wasn’t fair last time either and I’m sorry. And I won’t lie, I liked seeing you all fired up like that,’ he said with a hint of a wolfish smile. ‘Let’s give it a real try this time, all in, double or nothing.’

  He reached an arm out from underneath his umbrella to hand over a small package, carefully wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. He held the umbrella over my head as I took it in my hands, and the rain fell on him instead of me, his light grey suit shifting shades, drop by drop by drop.

  ‘This is for you.’

  ‘Patrick,’ I gasped as my cold fingers worked their way through the packaging. It was one of his copies of Jane Eyre. His only first edition. I looked up and saw his blond hair plastered to his forehead, half a smile on his face.

  ‘I can’t take this.’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ he insisted. ‘They’re like us, don’t you see? I had to get a good kick in the ego before I could understand what was at stake. Now we can be together properly.’

  I frowned at the book and then at Patrick. ‘You’re comparing us to a couple who could only get together after the hero was ruined by his first wife, who he locked in the attic, and ended up blind after she set the house on fire, and the heroine ran out on their wedding, turned down another proposal and became rich enough in her own right to feel socially equal to the man she loves?’

  Patrick nodded eagerly. ‘See? Just like us.’

  If I hadn’t been certain before, I was certain then.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘But I can’t take it because I don’t want to give it another try. There’s no point, it won’t work, and I know you’re going to laugh but seriously, it’s really not you, it’s me.’

  Patrick’s strong arm faltered slightly, straining equally under the weight of holding the umbrella outstretched and the blow to his pride. ‘Why are you being like this?’ he asked, bluster creeping back into his voice and sweeping away the raw edges I had just heard. ‘Isn’t this what you wanted me to say? I’m sorry, I’ll try harder, you were right?’

  ‘It’s exactly what I wanted to hear.’ I stopped and sighed. ‘But it turns out I was wrong about a lot of things. Most things, in fact. You’re asking me to go backwards and I realize now, I can’t, no one can. You can only go forwards, you have to keep going forwards or you’ll die. I don’t want that.’

  ‘That’s sharks, Ros, not people,’ Patrick replied, his arm slowly retracting, the umbrella covering his head again and not mine. ‘You’re thinking of sharks.’

  He smiled down at me with an expression I knew all too well. Condescending but humouring. Pleading eyes, lips curving upwards just a touch, brow lightly furrowed as though he wasn’t quite sure what he’d done wrong in the first place. But there was impatience as well, he wanted me to hurry up and accept his apology, and then life to go on according to his plan.

  ‘It’s sharks and people,’ I told him, the heat gone out of my end of the argument. I didn’t want to fight when there was nothing to fight for. ‘Don’t you think it’s weird that I never told you I loved you because I was worried it would scare you off? That’s mad. If you’re afraid someone will walk away from you if you tell them you love them, why on earth would you want to be with them in the first place?’

  ‘It’s a word that gets thrown around a lot,’ he muttered as he suddenly became very interested in his own feet. ‘I don’t like to rush it.’

  ‘It’s OK, I know you don’t love me,’ I said, pressing the book back into his hands. ‘You never did. You loved how much I loved you and that’s very much not the same thing.’

  It was strange, to be standing there, looking at Patrick Parker, all sad-eyed in the rain. Too many of my fantasies had started this way. But this was definitely an ending, not a beginning.

  ‘I wish you would give us a chance,’ he said, even though he was already tucking the book away inside his jacket. ‘I know you, Ros, you’ll regret this.’

  ‘That’s the thing, isn’t it? You don’t know me at all.’ I moved in towards him and rested my hands against his lapels, looking up into his light blue eyes. ‘I was never really me when I was with you. That was a sort of edited version of me and I don’t think I’d be happy if I had to be her all the time.’

  ‘Do you remember the first time we met? Do you remember how it was in the beginning?’ he murmured as he tilted his chin down towards me, playing his last hand. ‘Give me another chance. Whatever it is you want, you can have it.’

  I shook my head. He wasn’t listening. As usual.

  ‘I think I already have everything I need.’

  With a tiny tug on his lapels, I kissed him on the cheek and took a step backwards into the pouring rain, leaving Patrick Parker in the past.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  I went back into the wedding, swiping at myself with half a dozen napkins and skipping around the edges of the party to avoid my friends. I needed a moment, just a moment, to myself.

  The chain that had been wrapped around the door to the roof terrace was gone, I realized, as I made my way to the other end of the room. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I pushed on the bar that opened the door and felt it give, slipping outside by myself. The rain couldn’t make its mind up, slowing down to a light drizzle with a bright blue sky above. I searched for a rainbow but couldn’t find one.

  The view from the terrace was a beauty. All of London, new and old, sparkling fresh, straight out of the shower and shining just for me. Along the riverbank, different-coloured umbrellas danced around each other, streaming past the Golden Hinde, the Globe, all the way down to the Tate Modern. Across the Thames, St Paul’s was almost glowing in the sun, thankful for its long-awaited bath. On my right, I saw the Tower of London battling for attention with The Shard. Centuries-old stone, competing with a decade’s worth of glass and steel, past versus progress, separated by a river and somehow managing to co-exist.

  ‘Oh, it’s you.’

  I heard the door open behind me and turned to see John stepping out onto the terrace. I smiled and turned back to my city.

  ‘I was on my way to give someone a bollocking but, since it’s you, I’ll let you off. I haven’t got the permits to open this up yet, I don’t want anyone falling to their death,’ he said, leaning against the low railing beside me. ‘Ros, you’re wet through. Here.’

  He shrugged off his warm jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders like a blanket.

  ‘I don’t want to ruin it,’ I protested, even as I pulled it around myself. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until someone offered me a chance to get warm.

  John waved away my concern and moved to stand beside me, resting his forearms on the railing to gaze out over London.

  ‘I just met your mum,’ he said. ‘She’s really lovely.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I nodded, smiling warmly. ‘She is. I’m lucky.’

  ‘She reminded me a lot of my mum …’ he added before letting the thought trail away. ‘What are you doing out here? I thought I saw you leaving.’

  ‘I went out to make a call, got wet, came back,’ I explained. ‘I came out here to think.’

  ‘About?’

  I inhaled, wondering how much to share. It had been easy to talk to him before, when he was the married, slightly annoying bartender. But now he was someone completely different and I wasn’t sure how but the rules had changed.

  ‘I was thinking how annoyed the Tower of London must be,’ I said, pointing down at the old fortress. �
�You know, you’re just there, minding your own business for a thousand years, doing everything that’s asked of you, and then someone comes and builds a giant bloody skyscraper right across the road. I’d be furious.’

  ‘I hate The Shard,’ John said, turning his nose up at the glass colossus to our right. ‘It’s just there, isn’t it? Everything around here has a reason to exist, the market, the theatre, the bridges, the tower. And then that’s just there to be there. They could so they did. I hate it.’

  ‘Bold take,’ I said, smiling. I nestled into his jacket and breathed in. It smelled like him.

  ‘So, what was the phone call you had to think about?’ he asked. ‘Because I should have mentioned we have a strict no-stripper policy at this bar.’

  ‘It was about a job,’ I laughed. ‘I’m starting my own podcast network.’

  ‘Ros, that’s terrific,’ John exclaimed, grabbing hold of my hand and squeezing. ‘What a brilliant idea. That’s perfect, now you can do whatever you want.’

  ‘And then Patrick showed up and we had a chat,’ I added. John loosened his grip on my hand but he didn’t let go. ‘He wanted to give things another try.’

  His fingers tightened around mine again.

  ‘Did he now?’

  ‘And I told him I didn’t want to.’

  John considered this news, nodding as he stared straight ahead. A light breeze blew his hair in front of his face, dark wavy locks dancing over his forehead.

  ‘None of my business but I think that might be for the best,’ he said finally.

  ‘I agree,’ I replied. This time I was the one who gave his hand a squeeze. ‘I need to work out who I am and what I want without the thought of him looming over me. I need to stop thinking about what might have been and get on with what is.’

  ‘Seems to me that you’ve got a lot of things to be excited about,’ John said, raking his hair away from his face.

  ‘The present doesn’t look too shabby,’ I agreed. ‘Trying not to get hung up on the future.’