Searching for Steven (Whitsborough Bay Trilogy Book 1)

by Jessica Redland

  Jessica Redland

  Jessica had never considered writing as a career until a former manager kept telling her that her business reports read more like stories and she should write a book. She loved writing but had no plot ideas. Then something happened to her that prompted the premise for her debut novel, Searching for Steven. She put fingers to keyboard and soon realised she had a trilogy and a novella!

  She lives on the stunning North Yorkshire Coast — the inspiration for the settings in her books — with her husband, daughter, cat, Sprocker Spaniel puppy, and an ever-growing collection of collectible teddy bears. Although if the puppy has her way, the collection will be reduced to a pile of stuffing and chewed limbs!

  Jessica tries to balance her time — often unsuccessfully — between being an HR tutor and writing. She’s been a Brown Owl since 2010 although she says that 24 excitable girls can sometimes be a shock to the system after a day of peace and quiet working from home.

  ‘Searching for Steven’ is her debut full-length novel and is part one of the Whitsborough Bay Trilogy. ‘Getting Over Gary’ and ‘Dreaming About Daran’ are also out now and a standalone novella, ‘Raving about Rhys’ is available exclusively on Kindle.

  Visit her website: www.jessicaredland.com

  What if you already know your future…

  but not the path to take you there?

  Jessica Redland

  Published in Great Britain in 2016 by:

  LITTLE BEAR BOOKS

  Scarborough

  North Yorkshire

  www.littlebearbooks.uk

  email: publisher@littlebearbooks.uk

  Copyright © 2016 Jessica Redland

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Mark Heslington

  email: markheslington@btconnect.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

  I searched for Steven and found Mark instead.

  This is for him xx

  Chapter 1

  ONE YEAR BEFORE

  ‘Come on, Jason. Ring.’ I frowned at my iPhone as I paced up and down in the lounge, my stiletto heels echoing on the wooden floorboards. ‘Or text. I don’t care which. Just make contact. Please.’

  My heart leapt as the phone beeped, but the text was from my best friend instead.

  * From Elise

  Happy birthday Sarah! Last year in your 20s so make the most of it. Wish you weren’t so far away so I could give you a b’day hug so sending one by text instead. I’ve hopefully timed your pressie to arrive today. Hope Jason’s got you a fab gift… proposal maybe? Have a great evening xxxxxxx

  I stretched out my arm to admire the sparkly silver bracelet she’d sent. I should probably call her and thank her, but what if Jason called when I was on the phone? A text would have to do.

  * To Elise

  Just got home and your parcel was waiting. Way too generous as usual… but absolutely gorgeous! Thank you so much! Jason hasn’t been in touch with venue for tonight but hopefully somewhere nice this time. I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go! Would be lying if I said a proposal hadn’t crossed my mind. EEEEEEKKKK!!!! You’ll be 1st to know if he does xxx

  My hands shook slightly and I felt a flutter in my stomach as I typed in the words. Could tonight really be the night? Maybe. The timing felt about right and he’d been talking about making plans for the future a lot recently. We’d been together for fifteen months and had lived together for most of that time. Aside from occasional bouts of thoughtlessness on his part and a tendency to drag me to the gym or on a twenty-mile hike way more often than a person should have to endure in a lifetime, we were very happy together and I assumed that a proposal wouldn’t be too far away.

  My iPhone beeped. At last! But it still wasn’t Jason.

  * From Clare

  Sorry not texted earlier. Dim Daz borrowed phone then drove to Essex with it. Bloody muppet. Anyway, better late than never… happy b’day you old fart. Can’t believe you want to spend the evening with your eejit flatmate rather than me. Hope it’s not McDonalds this time! Maybe he’ll really treat you & do Pizza Hut?! LOL. Keep Sat night free if you want your card & gift or I’m keeping them xx

  ‘Your Auntie Clare is being very rude, as usual,’ I said to one of our kittens, Kat, who’d appeared to demand a fuss. ‘Flatmate indeed.’

  * To Clare

  Thanks. Was beginning to think you’d forgotten me! I promise to keep Sat free for you. Dread to know what sort of abuse I’d get if I don’t. Not sure where MY BOYFRIEND is taking me. Still waiting to hear. McDonalds was just a misunderstanding and you know it! Laters xx

  * From Clare

  Misunderstanding my arse! My final guess of the evening… The Griffin ;)

  I shook my head. So our one-year anniversary hadn’t gone quite as planned, but it was my fault really. I should have known that saying, ‘I’d love to go out for a meal to celebrate; how about The Kam Po? I could meet you in The Griffin after work,’ was far too vague for Jason. Yet muggins here had nursed the same glass of Pinot Grigio for ninety minutes before finally accepting he wasn’t coming. I’d trudged home and found him still in his gym kit playing a computer game. ‘You been working late?’ he’d asked. ‘You should’ve texted me. I got you a McDonalds on the way home, but it’ll be cold now and there’s nothing else to eat.’ He returned to his game and I went to bed, hungry.

  I checked my iPhone again. Nothing. It couldn’t happen twice. Could it? No. It had been his idea this time. Some friends from work had suggested a birthday meal, but Jason had insisted he’d take me out himself. I’d gently reminded him a couple of days ago and he assured me it was in hand, but I wasn’t to ask again or I’d spoil the surprise. He said he’d contact me last minute with a location to meet him so I could enjoy the excitement of speculating about where we were going. This was certainly last minute and excitement wasn’t quite the feeling I’d describe.

  I looked at my watch again. It was after half six. Blue watch would have finished at six so he’d had plenty of time to get showered and changed. Sod it! I couldn’t do this any more.

  * To Jason

  This is killing me! Where are you taking me? I’m all ready and awaiting my instructions! Please tell me you haven’t forgotten xx

  I got up and headed for the mantelpiece, hoping that reading my birthday cards again would distract me. It didn’t. A little voice in my head kept telling me he had forgotten and Clare’s joke about McDonalds or my local might not be far from the truth. Perhaps he was frantically phoning round places right now and that’s why he hadn’t been in touch yet. Jason! I took a deep breath and wiggled my shoulders, trying to free the building tension. Ooh, a text! At last! Please don’t say McDonalds…

  * From Jason

  South Kensington Tube Station. 1915hrs. Table booked for 1930hrs xx

  I shook my head slightly at the typical formality of his texts — symptomatic of organising team inspections in his job as a Fire Station Sub Officer — but at least he’d put
some kisses or I’d have had to have words. And he’d finally made contact. And he’d booked somewhere. Yay! I re-read the text and registered where he’d said to meet. My stomach did a massive flip. Oh my God! South Kensington. Could it be…?

  I hastily shoved my iPhone in my bag, pulled on my coat, and left the flat. My legs shook as I strode towards the tube station. It was just a coincidence. There’d be thousands of restaurants in South Kensington. Well, maybe not thousands, but Luigi’s certainly wasn’t the only one. We’d gone there on our first date after I moved to London. It was where we’d witnessed a proposal. It was where he’d told me he imagined proposing one day. But that didn’t mean he’d booked a table there tonight to propose, did it?

  When I reached South Kensington tube station, it took all my willpower to stand still on the escalator when all I wanted to do was to shove past the travellers, run up the steps, and skip across the concourse screaming, ‘Yes, Jason, I will marry you!’

  I spotted him by one of the exits. My breath caught as I saw what he was wearing. Classically tall, dark, and handsome, he looked particularly hot in the three-piece suit he’d bought for his brother’s wedding last summer. After his firefighter uniform, it was my favourite outfit on him. Although, to be perfectly honest, with a toned body like his I preferred no clothes at all!

  ‘Happy birthday, gorgeous.’ He bent down and gave me a soft kiss. I breathed in his musky scent and those butterflies went crazy. ‘Nice dress.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I whipped open my coat like a flasher, to give him a better look of the LBD I’d agonised over whether to wear in case I was over-dressed.

  He wolf whistled and I flushed from head to toe. ‘I approve. Although you may be a little over-dressed for what I have planned later tonight.’ I flushed again and Jason laughed. He offered me his hand. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘Where are we going?’ I tried to sound casual but failed abysmally. Please say Luigi’s. Please.

  ‘It’s a surprise.’

  It could only have been three minutes, but I swear that walk felt like an hour. My sweaty hand kept slipping from his, I stumbled several times, and I even hiccupped causing Jason to ask if I’d been at the wine before leaving the flat.

  The Italian flag and deep green canopy of Luigi’s loomed ahead of us. My breathing quickened. I mentally prepared myself: must not look gutted if we walk past, must look happy wherever he takes me.

  But we didn’t walk past. We stopped. We went in. He gave his name and we were quickly led to a table towards the back where a bucket of champagne on ice was waiting for us. Champagne. Proper Champagne. Jason thinks Tesco’s Own Label Cava is overpriced. Which could only mean… Oh. My. God!

  ‘You really do look gorgeous tonight.’

  I put my glass of champagne down as Jason pushed the candle aside and reached for my hand across the table.

  ‘You don’t scrub up too badly yourself,’ I whispered, barely able to speak for anticipation of what was coming. His dark eyes twinkled as he gazed at me over the table.

  ‘Thank you. I thought I should make a special effort. It’s a special occasion, after all.’ Eeeeeeekkkkk! ‘I haven’t given you your birthday present yet.’

  A shiver of anticipation ran through me. ‘No, you haven’t.’

  ‘If I know you, you’ll have spent all day trying to guess what it is.’

  ‘Me? It never entered my head.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Jason laughed. ‘You love presents and you know it.’

  I smiled. ‘Guilty as charged.’

  ‘I think you’ll like it. I was going to wait until the end of the meal but I’m too excited about it to wait. Is it okay if we do it now?’

  I nodded.

  ‘There are a few things I want to say first,’ he continued.

  ‘Your water, sir.’ A waiter inconveniently appeared and fiddled with Grolsch-style lids on a bottle of still and a bottle of sparkling water. Bottled water? Not tap? Two of them? Crikey! I willed the waiter to be quick. ‘Would you like me to pour, sir?’ he asked. No! I silently pleaded with Jason to say no, before I wet myself with excitement.

  ‘It’s fine. You can just leave it. Thanks.’

  ‘Happy Birthday,’ Jason said when the waiter finally left.

  ‘Thank you.’ We clinked champagne glasses.

  ‘Now, where was I?’

  ‘You wanted to say some things?’

  ‘Oh yes. Do you remember the night we met?’ He reached for my hand again.

  ‘Of course. Best night of my life.’

  ‘We said it was fate that we met, remember?’

  ‘It was meant to be,’ I agreed. Neither of us was supposed to be in Nottingham the night we met. I’d been drafted in last minute to make up numbers on a friend of a friend’s hen do and Jason had spontaneously decided to visit an old friend when his weekend plans had fallen through.

  After a day of never-to-be-repeated because it was terrifying ‘fun and frolics in the great outdoors’, the hen party donned fairy wings and net skirts and embarked on a pub-crawl. Jason told me later that he’d spotted me in the first pub, but hadn’t dared approach me, as I seemed to be ‘constantly surrounded by a million very scary screaming girls’.

  Even though they weren’t dressed for clubbing, he’d finally persuaded his friend to follow us into the eighties club where we ended the night. It was there that I spotted him on the dance floor looking very cute and very out of place in a thick jumper. ‘Aren’t you hot?’ I’d shouted over the music.

  ‘I’m used to the heat,’ he replied. ‘I’m a firefighter.’ Oh behave! I’d always had a bit of an obsession with firemen so that one line told me all I needed to know. Then when I found out he lived in London… Well, I was moving there from Manchester two weeks later. It had to be fate.

  ‘Can you remember what I said attracted me to you that night in Nottingham?’ Jason asked.

  ‘My fluffy wings?’

  He laughed. ‘The outfit certainly helped. But there was something that made me get your phone number at the end of the night.’

  I shrugged.

  ‘It was that you’d spent the day on a gorge walking adventure. Any woman who’d spent the day abseiling, climbing, and walking through waterfalls was worth getting to know better.’

  Oh crap! That was unexpected. Had I failed to mention that it was a one-off for the hen do and I’d never have agreed to make up the numbers if I’d realised what was planned? Oops. Probably wasn’t the moment to confess it now.

  ‘I’ve never had a girlfriend who enjoys being outdoors and keeping fit as much as I do,’ he continued. ‘I can’t believe I’ve found someone who loves to go to the gym…’ Oh! Didn’t he realise I hated going to the gym? Obviously not.

  ‘…who enjoys mountain biking…’ Eek! I’d better not confess that my mountain bike wasn’t actually stolen, but was hiding in Clare’s garage because I’d have a coronary if I ever had to put myself through the extreme torture again that Jason described as a ‘gentle leisurely ride’.

  ‘…and hiking. It’s such a dream come true. I love that you have the same passions as me.’ He looked at me all dewy-eyed across the table and I tried to hold his gaze with confidence while my pulse raced. Oh pants. I’d anticipated a proposal speech to be all about how happy I made him and how much he loved my company. My stomach clenched. Actually, that’s effectively what he’d said, but I so hadn’t seen it coming from that angle. I knew honesty was the foundation of a good relationship, but these were only little white lies, weren’t they? I mean, I did go to the gym, but mainly because he worked shifts so I’d hardly see him if I didn’t. And I did go hiking, but that’s because I love being in the countryside, not because I like to trample twenty miles across it. One day I’d probably have to tell him I didn’t share the same passions as him. But perhaps the time for the confession wasn’t when he was about to propose. It’s
not like that’s all we had in common. We did loads of other things together… didn’t we? The gym and all that stuff was such a small part of what we did… wasn’t it?

  Thankfully Jason’s scary fitness speech had ended. ‘You know you mean the world to me so I wanted to make you really happy on your birthday. I racked my brains trying to think of the perfect gift. I wanted to give you something you really long for so… here it is! The one thing I know you really, really want…’

  He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket. My heart leapt as he produced a small green velvet ring box. He placed it in front of me. ‘Happy birthday, Sarah.’

  ‘Is this—?’

  ‘Open it and you’ll see.’

  With shaking hands, I eased open the lid. My stomach lurched as it opened wider and wider to reveal… What the…?

  There wasn’t an engagement ring inside.

  There wasn’t even a pair of earrings.

  There was a small key.

  I looked at Jason, then at the key, then back at Jason again. Then a thought struck me. He hadn’t got down on one bended knee yet so maybe this was the start of an elaborate game to find the ring. It would be locked in a tin in a suitcase in a safe or something like that and I’d have to follow a trail of rose petals and fairy dust. How incredibly romantic. He handed me an envelope. The first clue maybe?

  I tore the seal open and scanned the contents. Maybe not. My fist tightened, crumpling the edge of the paper.

  Dear Mr Wilkes & Miss Peterson,

  We’re delighted to confirm your six-month premium membership at The Fitness Factor. This is a fantastic investment in your health and wellbeing. Your exclusive membership guarantees a place in our most popular classes — no waiting lists for you — as well as a premium-members-only pool session bi-weekly and the exclusive use of your very own lockers for the duration. We’re pleased to enclose your keys. Thank you for choosing The Fitness Factor. We look forward to welcoming you both as premium members very soon.

  Your Fitness Factor Team