by kendra Smith
Greg was fumbling around on the deck and then with a pop, produced a glass of champagne. She took a sip and enjoyed the fizz of the bubbles bursting down her throat. She linked arms with him and sat back in her seat, the sun on her face, and knew that she would never know a happiness like this again.
Martin was at the helm, grinning away, wearing dark sunglasses. He had tied a ‘Just Married’ sign across the screen.
Maddie turned to Greg as the wind roared in her ears. ‘You know, any way you look at it, I’ve had a bit of a midlife crisis this year,’ she said with a grin. ‘And it all started at the university reunion.’ She looked up at his face, at the scar above his eyebrow, as he leant his head to one side and smiled broadly at her.
‘Maybe you have,’ he said, taking a sip of champagne. ‘But you know what,’ he added, sliding his other hand around her waist, laughter in his eyes. ‘Just take a look at you now, Mrs Baker!’ She was dizzy with joy as she leant her head back on the boat, clutched her veil and started to laugh. She was, she realised, somewhere close to perfect.
‘What’s so funny?’ he said, leaning his head on her shoulder.
‘Last time I was on a speedboat, I fell in!’
‘No falling in this time!’ he said, squeezing her tight.
‘Don’t worry! But if I do – I know you’ll be here to catch me!’ And as she said it, he stopped laughing and turned to her. His face was serious, the sun catching the flecks of amber in his eyes. ‘I’ll always be here to catch you, Maddie. I never want to lose you again. Once was enough.’ And with her veil flapping in the breeze (it was the hummingbird scarf, she’d had it made into a small veil) and a bright orange lifejacket firmly clamped over her wedding dress, they sped across the bay, to a new life as husband and wife.
*
Dear Maddie,
If you’re reading this, my darling, then it means you remarried. And I know that means that you are not with Tim anymore, but I think that’s probably for the best, dear. You were always like a daughter to me, Maddie, and the one good thing that has come of knowing Tim is that I came to know you.
I remember fondly the days you’d come down to the cottage with little Ed and we’d share stories, wine, and you’d buy that dreadful new thing: hummus. And we’d have a picnic and the sun would go down and sometimes you’d stay over if you missed the ferry. We’d walk on the beach, we’d take Ed out with his chubby little legs into the water to look for fish and he’d splash about as if he’d never been in the sea. Magical times.
You have been unfathomably kind to me at Maybank View and my visits with you were always something I looked forward to. I have just been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and I wanted to lock this away securely with my lawyers as I may not be able to do it in a few months’ time. Time after time and day after day I reflect on my life. Don’t have any regrets, Maddie.
I wanted to make sure you got this if you ever got married again, so I told my lawyers to keep hold of it. I’m glad you’ve found new love. I won’t know who it is. I wonder if it’s that chap you used to mention infrequently, the one who would make your heart sing and your eyes light up – was his name Greg? Your eyes used to shine when you talked about him.
Well, whoever it is, I hope you are very happy. I’m glad you’ve lived your life and taken my advice. You didn’t want any regrets, did you?
Fondest,
Olive x
Acknowledgements
What would happen if I just upped and left? We all think it sometimes, don’t we? (Oh yes you do, especially when you spot that yoghurt lid resting silently on top of an overflowing bin…) And this is exactly what I wanted our fair heroine Maddie to do. I felt she’d had a rough time of life and needed a break. She also needed to find love – after she found herself. And so this novel was born.
Thank you to Hannah Smith at Aria, Head of Zeus who saw the first 10,000 words and steered me in the right direction. And to my fabulous editor Rhea Kurien for navigating me through structural edits and to the finishing line, not minding when I was hopelessly late for lunch (thank you, Circle Line) and generally being my cheerleader.
Thanks, of course, to the whole team at Aria, including Vicky Joss and Nikky Ward who work behind the scenes on my books. And to Helena Newton and Dushi Horti for their eagle-eyed copy editing and proofreading.
Thank you to Maria and Graeme Rayner, and to Bridget Turner for being advisors on how to hoist a mainsail – in print, at least! And thanks once again to Lucy Hartopp for casting a medical eye over a few issues. In all cases, there may have been a few detours from real life in the name of fiction, and all errors are entirely mine.
Thank you to my ‘swimming mums’ who, when they see me furiously typing in the fug of chlorine, give me a wide berth, but who are also there to joke and share my frustrations about plot – or in fact, about long hours poolside.
And of course, to the DWLC, to Kerry Fisher, Claire Dyer, Alison Sherlock and Adrienne Dines – for love, laughter, tears, and countless virtual hugs.
Thanks to Rachel Barraud, too, who bid to name a character in my book. This was part of a fundraiser by the Community Committee for a local prep school, Barrow Hills (where my boys had many happy years), to help to refurbish their library, so this seemed extremely fitting! When I came to rename the character from my ‘holding’ name of Penny to Rachel, I used the ‘Find and Change’ function on Word. Later, the proofreader must have thought I was drinking on the job when she queried this sentence: ‘When the Rachel dropped…’
Hitting the original deadline for this manuscript will forever remind me of pants. Yes, as in underpants.
Me: on deadline.
Sons, one, two and three peering round the door at various stages of that half term: ‘Mum, are there any pants?’
Me: ‘No.’
So my children went commando, or went to another mother, who knows. But I made my deadline!
Thanks to everyone in my family for their tolerance as I hid in the kitchen editing my manuscript and burning food simultaneously. I probably missed a few calls and cancelled a few coffee dates. Thanks to my gorgeous three boys (you are my world). And to my husband, for still honouring one of our sacred wedding vows: thou shalt make your wife a cup of tea every morning. Thank you.
And finally, thank you for reading my book… I hope you will read many more – and do tell me what you think! Pop over to Twitter or leave a review. I’d love to hear from you.
About the Author
KENDRA SMITH has been a journalist, wife, mother, aerobics teacher, qualified diver and very bad cake baker. She started her career in Sydney selling advertising space but quickly made the leap to editorial - and went on to work on several women’s magazines in both Sydney and London. With dual Australian-British nationality, she currently lives in Surrey with her husband and three children.
To see more from Kendra, follow her on Twitter @KendraAuthor or find her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/kendrasmithauthor/.
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