Her Greatest Mistake
Page 32
Steely doors sling open. A gaggle of festival-attired youths cackle by, laden with overflowing carrier bags of mostly food and alcohol. I smile to myself, bursting to tell them to hang onto autonomy, exuberance. An immaculate elderly couple tread carefully past, hand in hand, wrapped up for winter despite the rising temperatures; she wears a woven hat. Laughter lines etched around prudent eyes, oozing warmth. A deep sense of mutual understanding seals the small space between them.
On the floor in front of me, I spot a penny. I stoop down to pick it up.
‘So, you still believe in all that stuff, then, Eve,’ she says.
Gently, I right myself. ‘I have to,’ I say.
Six months ago, I had so much pent-up hate for this person before me. The betrayal ran like hot lava, as blood, through my veins. We’ve since travelled over these grounds: how she was sucked into his charms, without the strength to escape. Entangled, further and further by lies. Until she could bear to face me no longer. You threatened to tell me, either way, and by this time her entire life was consumed by you. Her job, her home, and her unborn child – I now know to be Iris. In time, my hate morphed to hurt, then to a level of appreciative understanding. Now, I only see someone who was taken in by you. In the same way each and every one of us was.
‘My luck has to change some time. Doesn’t it?’ My eyes plug with tears, mimicking the ones rolling down her cheeks, as I reach out to pull her into my arms.
She hugs me tight. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispers.
Eventually, I pull back, holding her at arm’s length. ‘Sam, we agreed, didn’t we? No, more “sorry̛” s, no more looking back. It’s the only way.’
She sniffs loudly, whilst pulling a tissue from her bag, as I discreetly wipe my own tears. ‘We did. I just can’t believe… I’m here, with you. Together. It’s so bloody brilliant.’
I link my arm through hers as we begin to walk. ‘Lunch is most definitely on you,’ I say. ‘You do realise, you still owe me for the Chinese takeaway.’
A couple of hours fly by, as we plunge back to a fraction of who we once were before you. Giggling about all the antics and scenarios we’ve shared. I talk to her about Billy, who’s also now moved on to pastures new. Returning to his old love, sailing, and living on his new boat in Dartmouth harbour. But, mostly, I talk about my Jack. Then I learn about Iris. I look up from my glass of Merlot towards 39b Lemon Street, and notice Ruan ambling towards it. I nod in his direction. ‘Over there,’ I say. ‘Look. It’s Ruan.’
‘That’s Ruan!’ she says. ‘Just as you described. Couldn’t look more like a surfer, could he?’
‘He’ll be opening up for me,’ I say, still watching him.
‘But I thought you said you’d closed the clinic down, couldn’t cope with it?’
‘I did, I couldn’t. But it’s been six months, Sam. Time to move on, don’t you think?’
She takes my hand, squeezing tightly. ‘This is the most wonderful news!’
A couple of weeks ago, I opened my eyes. Sharp sun rays piercing the windows. The cotton wool a little more transparent. Jack exhausting his vocals to some latest song. I wouldn’t allow you to do this. To take any more of me, us, than you already had. I hotfooted myself to the beach to find Ruan. To ask for his help, to re-establish my business, our life. He was thrilled. The next day, Ruan, Jack and I arrived at 39b Lemon Street. We scrubbed off the old, splashed on the new. Only stopping for sustenance and sleep.
It occurred to me from somewhere, in the early hours of that morning.
You may always be there, skulking in the depths, amongst the swirling lies. But ultimately, it came down to a truth to finally unlock my door…
…evil can live on, even when it’s dead, but only if I allow it to.
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Acknowledgments
Writing the book was almost the easy stage, what came next was probably the most daunting of all. Hoping for hope and wondering how on earth I was to go about seeing my work published. I was completely and utterly, walking in the dark, my hands tied behind my back and with no idea of the environment I was treading. Until I was united with the best literary agent I could ever wish for. Who is my rock in the world of books and story-telling. With her natural empathic, wise and supportive words and precious guidance. Broo Doherty, I can never thank you enough for taking the leap of faith to believe in me. I really wouldn’t be here today without you. I am so very thankful to know you are by my side on this journey. I have complete trust in you. And, thank you to all the lovely people at DHH Literary Agency, I owe you all so much. What an all-embracing and dedicated team you make.
For my wonderfully, talented editor, Lucy Gilmour. I am eternally indebted for your reassuring enthusiasm and belief in my story. For helping me to take my story to another level but most of all for helping me to believe in my work. To the lovely, Melanie Price who has been on the receipt of so many questions and queries and for all her jovial, generous responses. And for all the wonderful team and authors at Aria Fiction for including me in your family – thank you. Also, a special thank you for the brilliance of the fine-combing copy and proof editors for the clever polishing and incredible attention to detail, Sue Smith, David Boxell and Sue Lamprell.
To all the authors out there, until now I never did appreciate just how dedicated you have needed to be and continue to be. I salute you all. Your commitment to see something you love through, in early, late and extended hours, often juggling other obligations, with no promises of anything at the end. The whole community of writers has gifted me a wealth of understandings and invaluable support. I have nothing but admiration for those who embark on and ride the waves of the writing passage. My special thanks to Sam Carrington for her frequent, support and encouragement.
Thank you to the devoted handful of friends and family who have read my work, sometimes over and over in its earlier stages of development. For all of your thoughtful and cheering words and for never allowing me to give up. Katie, Anth, Mom, Sam, Sheila, thank you.
About Sarah Simpson
Sarah Simpson has a first-class honours degree in Psychology and has worked in a neuro-psychology department at a Brain Rehabilitation Hospital. When she first graduated she formed a mental health consultancy and worked as a psychologist within the family court system of Warwickshire and Oxfordshire. Three years ago she moved to Cornwall with her husband and three children, and runs her own practice at the Duchy Hospital in Truro.
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Addictive Fiction
First published in the United Kingdom in 2018 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Sarah Simpson, 2018
The moral right of Sarah Simpson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
> All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (E) 9781788544825
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