by Maria Realf
‘Here, here!’
‘Cheers!’
‘To family!’
It had been, hands down, the best day of Lizzie and Alex’s life. But their marital bliss didn’t stop there: over the next few months it grew and spread, at an even more accelerated rate than the cancer, squeezing every last bit of joy from the precious time they had left. They camped out at three different festivals, saw Alex’s favourite band live at Wembley, and spent five glorious days shored up in a Devon bolthole on an unofficial ‘mini-moon’. On their last evening, they’d even rocked up to the local open mic night, where Alex surprised her by playing an incredible acoustic version of Train’s Drops of Jupiter. ‘Well, I’ve seen you sing, remember?’ he said. ‘I think it’s about time I returned the favour.’
At moments like these, when he was so full of life, she came close to forgetting that he was staring death in the face. From time to time, she let herself imagine that a miracle might come their way: that the doctors would declare it had all been a mistake, or that they had discovered a pioneering new treatment that would turn out to be the cure they’d been waiting for.
But Alex’s miracle must have made its way to someone else, because he died two months ago after going into a sudden decline, his organs shutting down in rapid succession. If Lizzie thought he had broken her heart once before, it was nothing compared to the pain when he left her permanently, his family all by his side. She was so shattered she couldn’t even cry. It was as if his death had closed off even her most basic functions, and she could barely remember how to breathe, let alone weep. Everyone warned her not to make any big decisions while she was still grieving, but two weeks later she followed in Naomi’s footsteps and finally quit her job. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do next, but she knew that Alex believed she could do something special, and that was enough for now.
Start that book you always wanted to write, he sometimes said to her in her sleep. Just put some words on pages.
So here she was now, with a notebook in her hand, scribbling down ideas for her first novel. Some of them were dreadful, a couple had potential, but she knew that she would eventually find The One. In that sense, she thought, books were a little like love: you had to trust your instinct and go with your heart, even if you made mistakes along the way.
She wondered for a minute what Josh was up to now; whether some day he might speak to her again. She hadn’t seen him since the wedding-that-wasn’t: he’d made himself scarce when she went to fetch her belongings from the flat, and only left her a short note saying she owed him £900 for the final month’s rent and bills. She had sent a letter with her cheque to say how much she regretted hurting him, but he didn’t reply. Not that I can blame him. Still, she hoped he might change his mind someday and finally forgive her. She’d heard on the grapevine that he’d moved in with his new girlfriend, a sports reporter for the local paper. Wherever he was, and whatever he was up to, she just wanted him to be happy.
All of a sudden her phone beeped, piercing her thoughts. She sat up. It was a text from her mum: Hi love, how are you today?
Both her parents had been nervous about her travelling so far, especially in her fragile state, but they accepted that she wanted to meet the friends Alex had left behind. Breaking the news to his mates had been deeply upsetting: some hadn’t even realised that he was ill, while others had known but – like her – found it impossible to believe that he was gone. But she was glad she had been able to tell them in person, and they in turn had gone out of their way to be welcoming and show her Alex’s favourite hangouts. That was both comforting and hard: sometimes she felt so close to him she almost expected him to walk through the door.
I’m OK, just chilling by the beach, she typed back. It was more than her life was worth not to respond within the hour; once she had forgotten to reply for a whole day and her mum was on the verge of buying a plane ticket to come out and find her.
Any idea when you’ll be home? pinged the reply. Her mum made no secret of the fact that she was desperate for her daughter to return. ‘Why do you have to go out there all alone?’ she had asked more than once. ‘Because, it’s something I think I need to do by myself,’ Lizzie tried to explain. ‘And besides, it’ll do me good to get away for a while.’
Not just yet, she typed. I’m going to stay a couple more weeks. But I’ll be back soon, I promise. Love you. xx
We love you too, replied her mum, abandoning her attempts at nagging for another day. Take care. xx
Lizzie sighed with relief. She knew her mother meant well, as did everyone else, but what she really needed at the moment was space: space to think, space to grieve, space to get her head straight. Now more than ever, she understood why Alex had fled halfway around the world after Connor’s death, and she wished that he was here so she was able to tell him so. ‘I get it now,’ she whispered, the words drifting from her lips and off over the Andaman Sea.
She sent a quick text to Megan while she had her phone out, just to check in and say hi. When she had announced that she was going to Thailand, Megan had immediately offered to take a sabbatical from her job and go with her. ‘No, I can’t expect you to drop everything,’ said Lizzie. ‘I’m OK to go by myself, really.’
‘Work will understand,’ said Megan. ‘And if they don’t – well, screw it, I’ll quit and come anyway.’
‘What about Lloyd?’ Lizzie asked. ‘I thought things were getting serious between you two?’
Much to everyone’s surprise, Megan had been dating Lloyd since they ran into one another at a glamorous hair awards bash and he confessed he’d just split up from his partner. ‘Oh, what was his name?’ Megan had asked.
‘Nicole.’
‘Oh, I … I …’
‘Let me guess, you thought I was gay?’ he’d said, bemused. ‘You can be a straight hairdresser, you know.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know why I assumed …’ Suddenly her hand flew up to her mouth. ‘Oh! And I was running around half-naked in front of you at Lizzie’s wedding. Well, non-wedding. I’m officially embarrassed.’
‘Don’t be,’ he’d said, grinning. ‘With that figure, you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.’ Three more champagnes and a cab ride later, he was back at her flat getting an action replay.
‘Yeah, things are going great,’ said Megan. ‘But Lloyd knows what you’ve been through, Lizzie. He’d be supportive. And it’s not like we’d be moving to Thailand …’ she hesitated. ‘Is it?’
‘No! It’s like an extended holiday.’
‘Well, then, that’s fine. He can manage without me for a month or so.’
‘That’s kind of you, Megan. Really it is. But it’s not fair for you to put your whole life on hold, not for this. And besides …’ she paused, ‘I think I just need to get used to being by myself for a while.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
There was a hush on the other end of the line. ‘OK,’ she said eventually. ‘But I want lots of texts and emails and postcards. Don’t think you’re going to get away from me that easily.’
‘I won’t.’
Sticking to her word, Lizzie sent a quick text. Hi Megan, hope all’s good with you. It’s beautiful here, and sunny too! Say hi to Lloyd for me. Miss you xxx
Thirty seconds later, she received one back: Hi gorgeous girl, glad you’re OK. The weather here’s crap. At least Lloyd’s hot. Can’t wait to catch up. xxx
Smiling, Lizzie put her phone away and turned her attention back to her notebook. But before she could write anything, a petite Thai waitress approached with an empty tray. ‘Hello, Mrs Jackson,’ she said, in perfect English. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘Yes, thanks,’ said Lizzie. ‘Just some bottled water please.’
‘No problem,’ nodded the waitress. ‘How do you like the bar?’
‘I love it.’
Lizzie surveyed the beachside venue just behind her, with its charming outdoor terrace, whitewashed walls and spacio
us, though currently empty, dance floor. She had stopped by there the previous night, when the place was packed with both locals and tourists, but it looked different during the day: calmer and cuter. She read the sign outside for the 17th time, just to check it said what she thought it said.
Lizzie’s Bar.
Yes, it definitely still said that.
In the short but precious time that they had been married, Alex had never once let on about this place; she wasn’t sure why, but she guessed he must have liked the idea of one more surprise. It was only when his will was produced by his solicitor that Lizzie even discovered its existence – a shock that was soon doubled when she learned he had left his share of it to her, along with the small profit he had made in the six years since he’d opened it. The first time she set foot in there, she could feel his presence everywhere, from the laid-back vibe to the photo of Connor hung lovingly on the wall behind a row of spirits. It was Alex to a T, and she drank it in, revelling in the dream he had realised without her even knowing. But it was the name on the door that meant the most: the knowledge that, even when they’d been 6,000 miles apart, his heart had still belonged with her.
Lizzie had never worked in a bar before, let alone owned one, and she had no idea what on earth it entailed. Fortunately Alex’s friend and business partner, who had done a great job overseeing the place in his absence, was only too keen to continue on a permanent basis. Lizzie would take on a more advisory role, keeping in touch via Skype to make sure that everything was running smoothly. With the modest income from the bar, and the money Alex had left her, she would have financial freedom to pursue her dream of being a writer.
I’ll make you proud of me, she thought. The way I’m so proud of you.
Just then, the waitress returned with her drink, and Lizzie took a long swig of the cool, refreshing water.
Ooof.
She felt the fleeting kick deep inside her belly. ‘Oh, you like that, huh?’ she whispered to her bump, stroking it over her sundress. ‘Someone’s feeling thirsty.’
As she reclined on her lounger, Lizzie looked back out to the ocean, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her legs. Soon she would barely be able to see her toes, but she loved watching her body change, shifting to accommodate the tiny life inside her.
In a way it was Alex’s final surprise, she thought with a smile, though she wished he could have lived long enough to share the good news, and to see their little one grow up. He’d have loved their child to the heavens and back, and now it was up to her to tell them all about their daddy.
Inspired, she picked up her pen and began to write.
Acknowledgements
A grateful thanks must go to the following:
My amazing agent Judith Murray, rights director Kate Rizzo and the rest of the team at Greene & Heaton for your faith and invaluable guidance.
The wonderful folk at HarperImpulse who have worked so hard on the UK edition, especially Charlotte Ledger and Kimberley Young.
Everyone I met through the Curtis Brown Creative novel-writing course, who made me believe this might just be possible – including Anna Davis, Paul Golden, James Hall, Michael Hines, Dan MacDonald, Fiona Perrin, Christina Pishiris, Sara-Mae Tuson, Christopher Wakling and Lisa Williamson.
Bella Pearson for your thoughtful insight.
Paddy Wex, Jean MacPherson, Dan Hogan and all the teachers who encouraged my passion for writing.
British Red Cross and others who assisted in my research.
My mum and dad for your love, patience, lifts, generosity and good advice. You are the best parents a girl could wish for.
My brother Stephen, the bravest person I ever met. You are missed every day, but that smile will live on forever.
My sister Kathryn, for your positive vibes from the other side of the planet.
Geoff, Gerry, Amy and Tristan, who give in-laws a good name, and my nephew Harrison, who would much rather be reading about superheroes.
My colleagues past and present for your kind support, particularly Sue Peart and the talented team at YOU Magazine. A special shout out to Cath Sheargold and co (Emerson, Kirsty, Leo, Pippa, Alice and James) for appreciating the importance of both grammar and cake.
My best friends Jenny, Louise, Helen, Joy, Gem and Nick, for just being yourselves over the years (and not being too embarrassed to hang out with me).
And finally my husband Rob, The One for me, and our son Zac, The One who melts my heart. This one is for you.
About the Author
Since graduating with a degree in multi-media journalism, Maria Realf has worked on a staff or freelance basis for many of the UK’s best-known magazines, including The Mail on Sunday’s YOU Magazine, Cosmopolitan, Cosmopolitan Bride, Fabulous, Marie Claire, Now and You & Your Wedding. In her spare time, Maria is also an all-round movie obsessive, theatre lover and karaoke enthusiast.
@MariaRealf
www.facebook.com/mariarealf
www.mariarealf.com
About HarperImpulse
HarperImpulse is an innovative, award-winning digital imprint. In the four years since launch, we have continually hit digital bestseller lists, hosted the UK’s first online romance festival, published into over ten countries and grown an exciting stable of commercial women’s fiction authors.
Readers, come and say hi to the team and your next read…
www.facebook.com/HarperImpulse
@HarperImpulse
www.instagram.com/harperimpulse
www.harperimpulseromance.com
Writers, our vision is to publish the very best in digital-first commercial women’s fiction and we are simply looking for good stories! So, what are you waiting for? To submit, e-mail us at [email protected].
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
India
HarperCollins India
A 75, Sector 57
Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201 301, India
http://www.harpercollins.co.in
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London,SE1 9GF
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com