by Lucy Knott
About the Author
LUCY KNOTT is a former professional wrestler with a passion for storytelling. Now, instead of telling her stories in the ring, she’s putting pen to paper, fulfilling another lifelong dream in becoming an author.
Lucy is a self-professed hopeless romantic, her husband being the reason behind her desire to write.
Inspired by her Italian grandparents, when she is not writing you will most likely find her cooking, baking and devouring Italian food, in addition to learning Italian and daydreaming of trips to Italy.
Along with her twin sister, Kelly, Lucy runs TheBlossomTwins.com, where she enthusiastically shares her love for books, baking and Italy, with daily posts, reviews and recipes.
You can find Lucy on Twitter @TheBlossomTwins or @LucyCKnott
How to Bake a New Beginning
LUCY KNOTT
Copyright
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018
Copyright © Lucy Knott 2018
Lucy Knott asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © September 2018 ISBN: 9780008282158
Version: 2018-07-17
Table of Contents
Cover
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Acknowledgements
Dear Reader
Dear Reader
Keep Reading …
About the Publisher
For Chris.
Chapter 1
Beans on Toast
Ingredients:
Bread
Butter
Heinz baked beans (Always stock up when you go to Target)
What to do:
Toast bread and heat up beans in a saucepan or microwave. (Never tell Amanda you use the microwave.)
Butter toast and drizzle beans over the top. (Doesn’t taste quite like home, but it will do, I suppose. Don’t get sad, you’re living your dream and don’t be ungrateful, the boys are awesome, and you’ve worked so hard to get to this point. Mmm beans, I wonder what Levi is up to? Why does England have to be six hours ahead when you’re spending another night alone and could do with a sister chat? Just eat your beans.)
Sabrina realized that she had been mindlessly shuffling paper for the past fifteen minutes. It was gone five in the afternoon and she needed to go home and pack. Yet, she was sitting at her desk, eyes wide, staring at the mini chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The crystals bounced light off the walls and led to the dreamy state Sabrina found herself in as she daydreamed about the day that Levi first burst into her office.
Why did she always do this to herself? Every Christmas for the past two years she couldn’t get him out of her head. Was she really that lonely? Couldn’t she fantasize about men who weren’t off limits? Better yet, couldn’t she stop fantasizing altogether and venture into the real world and meet a non-rock-star man who wasn’t way out of her league? She huffed to herself as her phone rang, startling her. Seeing that it was her baby sister, Louisa, she put on an enthusiastic smile and answered with the cheeriest hello she could muster.
‘Are you all packed? Do you have everything ready for tomorrow?’ her not-quite-as-cheerful-sounding sister asked abruptly.
Sabrina blinked away the dancing crystals of the chandelier that were starting to give her a headache and went back to shuffling papers as she answered her sister’s questions. ‘Yes, yes, of course, Lou. I have everything organized – you know me, what am I if not organized?’ She felt a twinge of guilt for her white lie, but she didn’t want her sister to worry. Normally, she was the queen of packing, but with the band’s new release approaching and her brain often getting distracted by a certain drummer, she hadn’t quite been herself lately.
‘OK, so you will be on that flight tomorrow?’ Louisa asked, her voice a little imperious.
All Sabrina’s attempts at bubbliness evaporated. She snatched the band’s schedule from the desk and made her way to the door to head to the photocopier room. She was too tired to deal with Louisa’s sceptical, patronizing tone.
‘Lou, please. It’s Grandpa’s ninety-sixth birthday; of course I will be on that flight tomorrow. I am going to be there,’ she said with force. Her heels echoed along the deserted corridor. The cool office interior, bland cream walls and stark white furniture personified elegance and a modern flair in Lydia’s eyes, but at this time in the evening when most of the staff had gone home, it screamed cold to Sabrina. It lacked vibrancy in her mind and could do with some fresh flowers and a pop of colour.
‘Well, I’m just checking. It’s not going to be some glam, flashy party,’ Louisa added, a hardness to her voice that stung Sabrina and caused anger to bubble in her stomach.
‘I know it’s not going to be a bloody glamorous affair and I don’t bloody care. You know how much Nanna and Grandpa mean to me. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I miss them, and I miss you all and I will be on that plane tomorrow, so please, give it a rest.’ She practically punched the copier to life and let out a frustrated sigh. She was growing tired of her sister’s guilt trips over missing family affairs, especially when Louisa knew how hard she worked, and especially as Louisa knew she was busting her butt for their big sister Amanda’s best friend and not just some random pop act.
Sabrina made a mental note to start adding pictures of the piles of paperwork and late-night sessions to her Instagram, to break up the once in a blue moon flashy press events – maybe this would appease Louisa.
‘We all miss you too and can’t wait to see you,’ Louisa whispered after a minute or two.
Sabrina collected the photocopies and decided to call it a day. She picked up her pace, wanting to get back to her office and get home to pack. It had been months since she had been home and though she felt nervous about leaving her boys, she could do with the break.
‘Look, I’m sorry for getting snappy with you but I’ll be there, and it would be nice if you believed me, for once,’ she said, softer now. As she walked past Lydia’s office she noticed the light was on. It hadn’t been on earlier. She had thought Lydia had gone home for the day. Squinting her eyes and sending a quizzical loo
k through the glass, she noticed Lydia was not alone and her breath caught.
‘Is everything OK, Brina? I’m going to head to bed now – it’s pretty late here,’ Louisa said.
Sabrina tiptoed into her office as quickly and quietly as she could and gently closed the door behind her. She steadied her breath to answer Louisa: ‘Erm, sorry, yes, Lou. I’m fine and gosh, yes, please get some sleep. It’s already morning there. I love you and I’ll text you tomorrow.’
‘OK, love you, Brina,’ Louisa said before putting the phone down.
Sabrina placed her phone in her bag and shook her head. She needed to pull herself together; she was being ridiculous. Tears pricked her eyes as she gathered her belongings and dashed out of her office. Without glancing back at Lydia’s window, she took the lift to the ground floor. When the doors opened she marched to the huge glass doors and swung them open with force, letting the cool LA breeze graze her warm cheeks.
She felt ashamed for her dramatic performance and scolded herself for allowing Lydia to get to her so much, but this had been the final straw. Lydia could boss her around, criticize every move she made and talk down to her all she wanted – it was business; it was work – but to mess with her heart in this way was beyond ruthless.
How could she work for such a horrible woman? It was Lydia who had warned Sabrina to stay clear of dating clients. The company didn’t tolerate it and Sabrina was asked to promise that she would not date any member of San Francisco Beat. This rule, however, had only come into play after Lydia had heard that Levi and Sabrina had got rather close at the band’s album launch party two years ago. Sabrina had never heard of it prior to the event. And Sabrina hadn’t intended to be unprofessional, but it just sort of happened.
Naturally, she had pulled away from Levi, worried about being taken seriously, scared that she would get in trouble, that she was breaking rules. How silly had she been to throw away what she and Levi had – and for what? There hadn’t been any rules then, but now Lydia had gone and created and enforced those stupid rules. And she’d made it abundantly clear that when one of the boys dated it should be with a fellow star – a model, an actress, someone who could raise their profile, someone who was definitely not Sabrina.
She dragged her feet along the sidewalk towards her apartment. How could she have been so naive? Of course, Lydia had only been jealous – she had wanted Levi for herself. Sabrina realized this, but it was too late. The image from moments ago now burned in her brain: Lydia with her arms wrapped around Levi’s neck, falling with him onto the couch in her office.
Sabrina shuddered. She didn’t know what hurt more: the fact that this woman hated her so much or that she had thought Levi had felt the same way she had that night they kissed. Who was she kidding? What guy waited two years for someone? She didn’t live in a fairy tale; this was real life and in real life she had chosen work. She had stomped on the book of love without turning another page, and in doing so had well and truly placed Levi in the friend zone.
She didn’t have a right to be sad. It had worked out well for everyone. The band were doing fantastic and she had progressed tenfold with her job in spite of Lydia. Yet here she was, with another Christmas upon her, daydreaming of Levi. Whether she had the right to or not, she did indeed feel sad. She needed her grandpa’s pizza and she needed it now.
Chapter 2
Grandpa’s Pizza
Ingredients (I’m sure this makes a lot of mini pizzas; need to check on pizza for one?):
10oz yeast
1lb flour
Olive oil
1oz butter
Mug of water
Cheese and sauce
What to do:
Once yeast dough is formed (thank you, Grandpa), roll it out to fit the trays/baking sheets.
Place trays in clear bags (not Tesco bags like Grandpa did once; they will melt) and leave in warm oven until risen.
Once the base has risen, take the trays out of the bags.
Turn the oven on and when ready, cook one side of the base until golden brown.
Flip over and add sauce and cheese like Grandpa does.
Place back in the oven and allow cheese to melt and edges to turn golden.
With a tear in his eye Grandpa reached out and touched Amanda’s arm. He pulled her towards him and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
‘Thank you,’ he said with so much sincerity that Amanda couldn’t stop her eyes from welling up too. She paused for a moment to take in his features. His bright blue eyes glistened, the wrinkles on his round face crinkled up and a small smile developed at the corners of his mouth as he looked at her. If hearts could leap from one’s chest, smile and do happy dances, Amanda was certain that’s what hers would be doing right now. Her chest felt fit to burst, she loved this man so much.
‘Grandpa, grazie. I’m so excited. I think I finally have it all up here now,’ she said, knocking her knuckles against her forehead. She then wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. ‘Come on, let’s go and sit in the living room and have a break.’
Before they could leave the kitchen, Grandpa did his usual check. Deep down, Amanda knew he didn’t doubt her knowledge in the kitchen, but at the same time she was aware that Grandpa liked being thorough. He loved teaching her and repeating the steps to every recipe numerous times and she loved learning from him and could listen to those steps every time he repeated them.
‘It will take about …’ Grandpa started.
‘… an hour,’ Amanda finished. Both were looking at the oven door.
‘Ah, you know.’ Grandpa’s face lit up as he said this. He nodded and walked in the direction of the front room to join the others. He had his arms outstretched, touching the walls as he walked. They were his guide now; he didn’t quite trust his failing eyesight. His shoulders were hunched from years bent over the kitchen counters and his legs wobbled delicately with each step he took.
Amanda puffed out her chest. She loved the feeling of making her grandpa proud. Then she subtly walked behind him, his shaking legs making her anxious that he would fall. They had been in the kitchen for the better part of an hour, making pizza dough. At ninety-five years old that was no mean feat. You still couldn’t get him out of the kitchen when he had his heart set on cooking. These days, however, he knew when to stop and rest, when his legs couldn’t take his weight much longer and no amount of his determination and strong will could hold off the aches and pains.
Grandpa went to sit down beside his youngest granddaughter – Amanda’s baby sister, Louisa – on the soft grey couch. Louisa placed a hand on the small of Grandpa’s back, guiding him down, aiding him with his balance as his old knees did their best to bend. Then she scooted up to give him some space and make sure he was comfy.
Amanda made for the little blue chair in front of the fireplace. This had been the girls’ favourite spot to perch when they were kids. In the cold months, they would run in from school, drop their schoolbags at the foot of the stairs and race to the living room, ready to fight for the chair. With their arms outstretched over the flames they would try to capture the heat, as Grandpa shouted, ‘Careful not to roast,’ with a chuckle. They would tell their nonni about their day and what they had been up to while taking it in turns to sit on the chair, indulging in soft, buttery Bauli cakes as crumbs sprinkled the carpet.
Things hadn’t changed much, except these days Amanda had to position herself more carefully in the chair. When she looked up she caught sight of Louisa who was grinning, her brown eyes looking from the chair to Amanda. They weren’t kids any more. The precise movement – a twist of the hips and a gentle shuffle to avoid getting stuck between the armrests – was certainly a sight to behold. She couldn’t help but reciprocate Louisa’s grin. She would not get stuck today; she’d mastered this by now.
‘Grandpa, would you like a biscuit?’ Louisa asked, picking up the tin and offering it to him.
‘Just one?’ he questioned, making both girls laugh. Amanda watched him tuck
into his chocolate biscotti. Tears threatened her eyes again as she replayed his ‘thank you’ in her mind. Though Grandpa could be impatient at the best of times, his passion for cooking knew no bounds and it was getting harder for Nanna to help him in the kitchen.
The girls’ mum would often tell him that he couldn’t start whipping up things left and right and then leaving it for Nanna to finish and clean up. Mum would have to explain to him that Nanna was getting old too. This frustrated Grandpa. He would get bossy and occasionally snap when the girls tried to help him.
Today, hearing him say ‘thank you’ after Amanda had helped him mix up the pizza dough and prep it to rise in the oven had melted her heart. Not only because in that moment he seemed to acknowledge his sometimes-bad moods and apologize for them, but also because she couldn’t imagine not being able to cook whenever she wanted. She understood his need to be in the kitchen; after all, he had passed on that same passion to her. She knew how important cooking was to him. His ‘thank you’ had been filled with gratitude – all because of the simple act of being there for him, allowing him to do what he loved.
‘One for Amanda too,’ Nanna said to Louisa, pointing at the gold tin of biscuits on the coffee table. Tins of biscuits were a permanent fixture in the living room. ‘Mangia, mangia,’ Nanna continued, as she turned to look at Amanda.
‘I am, Nanna, I am, look,’ Amanda replied, her nanna’s voice snapping her out of her thoughts. She stood up out of the chair, with a ninja-like swivel of her hips, so they wouldn’t get caught under the tiny armrests, and took a biscuit from the tin. She smiled at her nanna and stuffed the whole thing in her mouth.
‘You’re a cheeky girl,’ Nanna said, with a tut and a shake of her head.