The only blip on the horizon was that she’d be leaving soon, heading to London to begin her course. She’d opted to study full-time, not wanting to waste any more time in getting to where she’d decided she wanted to be. There were weekends though; he would come to her, she would come to him. They’d work it out, baby steps built on trust, day by day.
They were meeting up with Delwyn and Nico at the Rum Den later for a birthday drink and she’d heard Brenda mention something about a cake. She had the night off because it wasn’t every day one’s new boyfriend turned thirty!
The audience rose and began to edge their way out through the doors to the waiting sunshine. Isabel stepped down from the podium and felt Alice nudge her as Rhodri angled his way toward the stage. She took his outstretched hand, and she directed him toward the door at the back of the stage. She pushed it open, and they stepped outside to the gravelly car parking area. It was deserted, the audience still milling about discussing the performance at the front of the church.
Isabel felt the late morning rays of sunlight warming her face as Rhodri, making the most of them being alone, turned her toward him. He placed his hands on her hips and drew her close. She raised her face, and as his lips settled on hers, she knew she was home.
͠
Sometime in the not too distance future...
There was a blast of cool air from the street outside as the door to The Natural Way jangled open. Isabel’s coursework lay scattered across the counter. It was a bank holiday weekend, and she was home from London making the most of the three-day break. Delwyn had asked her to mind the shop for a couple of hours while she went to an exhibition with Nico. She didn’t mind manning the fort at The Natural Way; it was good experience, and besides Rhodri would be busy in the gallery for the best part of the day. He’d suggested going out for a drink later, and it would have been nice to pop in on Brenda and her son, Russel who’d moved back to Wight to help out his ‘old mum’ as he called her. Isabel didn’t want to go out tonight though, maybe tomorrow. Tonight she wanted Rhodri all to herself. She’d told him she wanted to do nothing more than devour his home cooking and snuggle up on the couch with him. ‘Nothing more?’ he’d asked with a gleam in his eye.
Now, she swept the papers into a tidy pile before looking up and smiling. ‘Good morning.’ She received a greeting by return from the tall, rangy customer who looked to be in his sixties; he was a George Clooney type or would be if George Clooney had sandy, reddish hair. Either way, he was one of those men who would continue to improve as the lines moved in, she mused idly, like her Rhodri. She watched as he scanned the shelves.
‘Is there anything, in particular, you’re after sir?’
‘I need something to help with jet lag.’
‘Oh, you’re Canadian. Is that where you’ve flown from?’
‘Yes, sure is and well done. Most people I’ve met so far assume I’m American.’ He smiled broadly. ‘I arrived in London a couple of days ago and pretty much headed straight here. I woke up this morning feeling like I’d been hit by a bus.’
Isabel walked over to the relevant shelf. ‘Yes, it can take a few days to catch up on you. Valerian is good for helping you sleep while your body adjusts to the different time zone and we have a homeopathic option with wild chamomile, which will be helpful.’
He took the suggestions she was holding out from her.
‘Are you enjoying your holiday so far apart from the jet lag?’
‘I’ve only been on Wight since yesterday, but from what I’ve seen so far it’s a beautiful place. I’m not here on a holiday though, it’s more a pilgrimage of sorts.’
‘Oh?’ Isabel was intrigued.
‘My uncle died here in World War Two. I promised my grandmother before she died that I’d come here and see for myself where he spent his final days. Let him know we never stopped thinking about him.’
The hairs on Isabel’s arms stood up. ‘What was your uncle’s name, if you don’t mind my asking?’
He looked bemused, ‘Henry, Henry Johnson. Why?’
Isabel’s mouth dropped open.
‘Are you alright?’
‘I think so. It’s a bit of a shock that’s all. You see you’re not going to believe this but—’
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Julie for planting the seeds that sprouted into a novel. My agent, Vicki Marsdon of High Spot Literary Agency for her faith in my abilities and for helping me craft this book. Tammy Robinson, my talented author friend, thank you for your support. The herbal remedies peppered at the start of Parts 1, 2 & 3 were courtesy of a chance meeting with Natasha Willoughby, thank you. My old neighbours Norma and Alan, thanks for the loan of the Isle of Wight photographic book. It helped hugely! Thanks too to Father Luke of Quarr Abbey. Michelle, Linda and all you lovely readers, you are the ones who keep me writing. Our cat Blue, thanks for keeping me company on those lonely writing days. I have a wonderful big family, thanks for always being interested and of course, I can’t say goodbye without thanking my three gorgeous boys Paul, Joshua, and Daniel, Thanks for understanding that I am working when I write, love you to the stars and back x
From the Author
Michelle Vernal loves a happy ending. She lives with her husband and their two boys in the beautiful city of Christchurch, New Zealand. She’s partial to a glass of wine, loves a cheese scone and has recently taken up yoga—a sight to behold indeed. She has written six books to date all of which are written with humour and warmth and she hopes you enjoy reading them. If you enjoyed The Promise then taking the time to say so by leaving a review would be wonderful. A book review is the best present you can give an author. If you’d like to hear about new releases and other book news you can sign up to receive her VIP Newsletter here https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/m4i0s6 As a thank you, you’ll receive a FREE e-book!
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Warm Witty & Captivating
Sweet Home Summer
What’s a Matchmaker? I’m thinking a really, really old Irish version of Tinder…
Isla Brookes was terrified of leading a little life in the small New Zealand town where she was born and where her gran and mum were also born and bred. To escape their fate, she breaks it off with her teenage sweetheart and runs away to London. She’s spent the last ten years climbing the interior design career ladder and meeting the wrong kind of man until one day she wakes up and wonders what it’s all been for. Leaving her latest unsuitable man and job for dust Isla winds up sitting on a beanbag in therapy at a Californian retreat, where she realises it’s time to go home.
They breed em tough on New Zealand’s West Coast. A fact Isla’s grandmother, Bridget prides herself on. Her heart was broken once, and she won’t let it happen again, but now ever since her husband passed away, someone’s been sending her Valentine’s Day cards.
When the dance hall, the scene for this heartbreak, falls into decline, Bridget decides the link to her first love must be restored even if the events of long ago can’t be put right. She’s never heard of dating apps, so in a nod to her Irish ancestry, she decides to hold a fundraising Matchmaker Festival.
Then Rohan Sullivan blows into town on a strange wind offering his services as a bona fide matchmaker; suddenly it’s time for both women to remedy the mistakes of their past.
Great book with relatable characters, absolutely love this book – M Astrin
The perfect story if you enjoy small town romance fiction with a unique setting and original plot – Jolliffe
What a delightful read, it’s been quite a while since I read such a charming and heartwarming read – Christie for Devilishly Delicious Book Reviews
Available on all e-book platforms
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