Wilde Women
Page 22
I make eye contact with her and see so much love and sincerity that I don’t know how to react.
‘It’s OK,’ Lacey says, sensing the tidal wave of emotion threatening to knock me off my feet.
‘I’m fine. If he wants to sort things, he knows where I am. I’m not going to go chasing a guy. I’m absolutely fine, honestly,’ I protest.
‘What complete and utter tosh!’ Finola erupts. ‘Haven’t you been listening in these Women Winning meetings? You young fillies saying you’re “fine” all the time when you’re not. You’ve got to stop doing this. Sorry, we’ve got to stop doing this! We’ve got to speak up and say what’s what, so we don’t find ourselves in a pickle, all depressive and miserable!’
Finola is so passionate, I’m taken aback. She’s not out of steam yet, either.
‘None of this “you’re a girl and he’s a guy rubbish”. Robin Wilde, you are a woman. It’s the modern day, and no man is going to ride in on a white steed and rescue you.’
‘Except maybe Edgar, because you actually do have a white steed in your stable, don’t you?’ Gillian adds meekly, and a ripple of laughter goes round the room.
‘Well, yes, dear, but our Edward chap certainly doesn’t, and you’d better take the reins on this, Robin, because he’s not going to. We all know you love him, we all know he loves you. You just got a bit busy, lost yourself in everything after your terrible, terrible loss last year …’ She continues talking, but I feel a sharp stab in my heart when I realise how right she is. ‘… And lost sight of what was right in front of you. I don’t like to see you sad, and I don’t want to make you feel set upon, but my dear, you need to go and get that man back!’ Finola stops, taking a breath and looking around her.
We all look at each other, nobody really knowing quite what’s just happened. Finola’s spoken such sense, being so vocal, bringing up the loss of our baby.
‘I, um …’ I begin.
‘I’ll pick Lyla up from Val’s tomorrow and have her for a night,’ Gillian offers, stepping forward.
‘And I’ll have her the next night,’ Lacey says, looking at Karl for confirmation he’ll be there and getting a smile and nod in reply.
‘And then I’ll have her for a night after that!’ Kath adds in.
‘She can play with her cousins!’ Eleanor smiles.
‘So, you want me to go home, book a flight, find Edward and tell him I love him?’ I say, laughing at how ridiculous this all is.
‘Well, do you love him?’ Gloria asks boldly, as only Americans can.
I think back to my thirtieth birthday party, held here less than a year ago, where Edward surprised me, tipped me backward and kissed me in front of everyone. I think back to telling him about the baby, and how he said he’d be there through it all and how he really was, even when ‘all’ wasn’t what we thought it would be. I think about all the times he’s let Lyla jump on him, pelt him with pillows and call him names, taking it with such grace and humour. I think about his kind, chocolate-brown eyes and his smooth, strong arms. I think about how happy I was when I knew I was driving home to him and how full he made my heart feel.
‘More than anything,’ I say, with eyes full of tears.
‘Then get outta here!’ she yells as the rest of the room erupts in a cheer and I shout, ‘Yes! Yesss!! I’m going to New York! I’m Robin Wilde, and I’m going to get him back!’
THIRTY-SIX
AS THE PLANE TOUCHES down on the tarmac, I check my bag one last time for all my things, make a note to grab my cabin case from the overhead locker and march straight through customs (well, as much as you can at JFK) and jump into a cab.
This time, I don’t marvel at the little multicoloured wood-clad houses, the giant sweeping cemeteries, the famous New York skyline or the bridges over the Hudson and the East River. Instead, I am totally and utterly focused on what I’m about to do next.
Booking my ticket last night, thanks to my bonus from Natalie, I felt a sense of elation so strong I was utterly inspired to be this brave more often. I caught the first flight out, and with the time difference, it’s now only Saturday lunchtime. How can you go from Friday night in a florist’s being yelled at by your friends to reach for the stars, to Saturday afternoon, pelting down the streets of New York in a yellow taxi, about to do one of the riskiest things of your life?
I haven’t phoned ahead to tell Edward I’m coming. Ironically, I didn’t have the nerve. I just knew I had to make the leap, hope for the best and have a little bit of faith. Also, the three G&Ts I had during the flight have helped, too.
I push the buzzer to his apartment, hoping he’s in.
‘Hullo?’ he answers quizzically.
‘Um, yes, hello, hi,’ I begin, suddenly faltering.
‘Robin?’ comes Edward’s voice, crackling through the machine.
‘Look, I know this is weird, it’s a lot, I’m a lot.’ I take a deep breath. I’m going to do this, I am going to do this, I say in my head, shifting my feet about. ‘Edward, I love you. You’re the only man for me. You’re everything to me, in fact. And I—’
The door opens wide, with Edward, my gorgeous Edward, standing right in front of me, head tilted to the side, smiling his gentle smile, and I’m lost. My mouth’s gone dry, my eyes are teary, my heart is thudding.
‘But I thought we were over,’ he says, and I swear I see tears in his eyes. ‘I thought your life was too full to fit me in.’
‘I know it’s felt like that at times, for both of us. But you need to know the truth. And if you don’t, well, I’ve flown all this way because I just wanted to ask …’ My voice has softened to a whisper.
‘You just wanted to ask …?’ he nudges, reaching out to hold my hands, his skin warm and familiar.
The touch of his hand is all I need to find my voice again. And finally, the words are there. Loud and clear.
I smile. ‘If you’d marry me?’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Here we are again, the Oscar speech moment for any author, one filled with absolute pride in thanking the people who have made this dream possible and absolute fear that you’ll miss someone vital off the list and cause eternal offence.
As my most wonderful manager Maddie once said, ‘I’d like to thank all the key people’.
There. Nailed it.
Heh heh, I jest, let’s do this for reals. Queue dramatic stage lighting and pass me my golden statue to weep over. I’m going in.
This book would never have been a book in your hands (or screens) without the hard work of many people. I would like to first give special thanks to Abigail, Dom, Maddie, Meghan and Hannah, my amazing team at Gleam Futures who always have my back, who always believe in me and also, who shift my calendar about so deftly on days when I’m having a little cry because I don’t think I have enough time to write. You are like magicians to me and I love you all dearly.
OK, imagine now there’s a confetti cannon going off and golden ticker tape tumbling down from the ceiling – thank you so much Bonnier Books UK! You. Are. Good. People! The publishing team have held my hand (not physically, that’s not in the book deal) for the past three years and I’ve never known people cheer so loud for Robin.
Particular thanks go to my editors, Eleanor Dryden and Sarah Bauer. I don’t think Robin would be the Robin she is without you. Eli you have championed me writing about the harder topics since our very first one-on-one in my old house, and Sarah you have worked tirelessly on Wilde Women and have invested in the characters so much that (and I hope you don’t mind me exposing you here haha) you have a little crush on Edward! You are both brilliant women and I’m beyond thankful to have had you in my life, both professionally and personally.
The whole team at Bonnier have been pretty epic, actually, and not just because they always decant Maltesers into bowls for our meetings. I’d like to thank Katie Lumsden, Kate Parkin and Perminder Mann. I’d also like to thank Clare Kelly for covering the publicity and for saying, ‘We don’t body shame here, you order a
side,’ when I went a bit gaga on the Wagamama’s order after our Manchester book signing. I’d like to thank Alexandra Allden and Sophie McDonnell for the beautiful cover and illustrations. You have captured our Wilde women so perfectly.
Thanks go to Jamie Taylor and Alex May, who make the actual book and the 1000s of pages they send to me to sign.
Stephen Dumughn, Sahina Bibi, Felice McKeown, Nico Poilblanc, Stuart Finglass, James Horobin, Andrea Tome, Victoria Hart, Angie Willocks, Carrie-Ann Pitt, Amanda Percival, Vincent Kelleher and Sophie Hamilton, thank you so much for your sales and marketing wizardry!
And lastly in the Bonnier section, I’d like to give big squishy thanks to Laura Makela, Ruth Logan, Ilaria Tarasconi, Saidah Graham, Genevieve Pegg, Jenny Page, Natalie Braine and Jon Appleton.
Bonnier, you’re the best. Here’s to many more!!
Another round of thankful praise must go to my long-suffering family. For Liam, who took on far more than his share of the parenting duties whilst I was in the midst of writing, for Darcy who loves that Mummy writes so much she’s set up her own class book club, and for Pearl, who can’t yet read anything but does enjoy pointing to the dog in the farm book. If I didn’t have my homey peoples, I’d be a wreck of a woman and would never really be able to do anything. I love you a lot famalam, thank you for always supporting me.
And so we come to the end of the Oscar-style speech, the lights have swivelled into an even more dramatic set up and I should probably let a couple of dainty tears fall gracefully down my face (though we know I’d never manage this and it’d be panda eyes and foundation streaks). I’d like to thank you, the dear reader, for taking the time to allow Robin into your life, to love her, to sometimes feel angry with her, to keep her going as you read through her books. I thank you for coming on her journey and for supporting her each and every step of the way. You are everything to these books and whilst I’m sad we’ve reached the end, I’m glad to know they keep going with every person who picks up a copy and begins their wild(e) journey.
Thank you.
Oh hi!
How on earth have we got here? The final thank you letter of the Wilde series. I fear I may shed a little tear. Except I probably won’t because I’m writing this in the hairdressers and I already look a bit weird having my laptop out whilst I have a blow dry so I think crying would only add to that.
Much like Robin, my own life has been a bit of a #JuggleStruggle this year (hello, I’m writing this at the salon) and so often I have found myself using that toxic little F word – fine. ‘I’m fine!’, ‘fine thank you!’, ‘yes, that’s fine!’. Why do we do it to ourselves?
Despite the challenges of fitting in a lorra lorra work commitments, a growing family and vaguely trying to stay sane, I have loved writing Robin this year. Watching her grow over the past three books has been a joy to me and I hope also to you. She’s pulled herself from The Emptiness to happiness with a few hurdles along the way but, with the support of her friends and family, she’s done it. I don’t think anyone could say they haven’t been there in some way or another. Robin’s definitely one of us.
I’d like to thank you for being there with Robin through her ups and downs. For cheering her on and crying with her when things got tough. I meet so many of you at my book signings, out and about or just via online messages, and hearing your thoughts on the Wilde books always fills my heart. I have put so much of my own heart into these that to know you have enjoyed reading them – well, it’s a lot. Thank you.
There won’t be another novel out next summer (although I will be keeping myself busy, so keep your eyes peeled for something else a bit new – squee!) but I do find myself pondering what becomes of our Wilde women. Perhaps one day in the far-off future we’ll revisit them, but for now, they live in these pages and in our hearts and I am grateful to you for keeping them alive as you read these books.
If ever you are feeling a bit flat or like the world has lost its fizz, please remember that your friend Robin has been there too and that there are always sunnier days to come.
Wishing you great big loves and thank yous,
You’re flipping good eggs,
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Catch up on Robin Wilde’s journey
First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Zaffre
This ebook edition published in 2019 by
ZAFFRE
80–81 Wimpole St, London, W1G 9RE
Copyright © Louise Pentland, 2019
Cover design by Alexandra Allden
Jacket illustration by Sophie McDonnell
Author photograph © Nicky Johnston
The moral right of Louise Pentland to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978–1–78576–932–0
Hardback ISBN: 978–1–78576–930–6
Trade ISBN: 978–1–78576–931–3
This ebook was produced by Palimpsest Book Production Ltd, Falkirk, Stirlingshire
Zaffre is an imprint of Bonnier Books UK
www.bonnierbooks.co.uk