‘Hello?’ I said, uncertainly.
‘Hello,’ he said, pausing for breath. He’d obviously been running for some time. His T-shirt clung to him and he was flushed. He swallowed, and looked down at me. ‘Lizzy,’ he said blankly. He was holding his phone. I stood up, determined to be friendly.
‘Hello again.’ I leaned on my suitcase, surprised to discover my legs were shaking. ‘Off anywhere nice?’ I asked politely. ‘Had any interesting post lately?’ I said in my head. ‘Any letters from people telling you they’re still in love with you? Yes?’
David brushed his hair off his forehead. ‘Yes, I’m off on holiday, actually,’ he said, more calmly.
‘Lovely,’ I said. ‘Where?’
‘Corfu.’
My heart sank at the sheer bad luck that bedevilled my every waking move. ‘Oh…that’s nice,’ I said, rooting around nonchalantly in my bag, as I tried to stop my stupid legs from shaking. Then I looked at him properly. ‘Why haven’t you got any bags or anything?’
‘I – I had to leave in a bit of a hurry,’ he said. ‘All my stuff’s at the airport – I’ve just landed. You see—’
‘I’ve got to go,’ I interrupted. ‘Sorry, David. Great to see you. I’m waiting for Georgy’ – why did I still want him to know I wasn’t going on holiday with a love rival? – ‘and I’ve just seen her going into WH Smith’s.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ said David calmly.
‘Yes, I have,’ I said, raising my arm. ‘Over there, in the blue dress.’
David caught my arm. ‘You haven’t. She’s not there. She’s not coming.’
‘She is,’ I said, wrenching my arm away. ‘We’re going on holiday together, as if it’s any business of yours.’
David took my hand and held it, stroking my palm. ‘Georgy’s not coming. She’s in her flat, getting ready to go out – or she was when I spoke to her five minutes ago. I’m coming with you. We’re going to Corfu together, and then I’m moving back to London, and we’re going to live together, and in the future – well, who knows? Well, I know one thing for sure.’
‘What’s that?’ I said, hardly daring to breathe.
David moved closer towards me. ‘I made the mistake of not coming to find you before, Lizzy,’ he said, and I could feel his warm breath on my cheek, ‘and I’m not doing it again. No matter how brave you pretend to be. I want to be with you. I always have. Since the moment I first met you.’
‘What are you talking about?’ I said, feeling as if I’d been winded. People were walking past and staring at us as we stood a few inches apart, eyes locked. I stepped back a little, David still holding my hand. He was here. He was standing in front of me and he was in love with me. I’d spent so long thinking I’d seen him at the pub, at a party, in a post office, and now he was actually here, and I knew without a doubt that the most natural thing in the whole world was for me to be with him.
‘I got your letter last week, Lizzy. But I’d already decided I was going to come and find you. After the wedding – I was being stupid. Proud. I dialled your number a thousand times, but I was too chicken. I thought it was too late. I thought you were over me. Or that it was just too complicated.’
‘Me too,’ I said, moving closer to him. ‘I thought it was just me, and I’d have to get over it.’
‘I rang Tom when I got back to New York. I didn’t know what to do. And he arranged it all.’
‘Tom,’ I said, comprehension dawning. ‘He just rang me.’
‘I couldn’t find you,’ David said. ‘I was running around looking everywhere so he called you to make sure you were still here.’
‘God, I’m going to kill him,’ I said. Then I thought about it. ‘No, I’m not. I’m going to buy him a huge bar of Toblerone in Duty Free.’
David held my hands to his chest. I could feel his heart beating. ‘I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Lizzy,’ he said, as the noise around us faded. ‘Not once since the day I met you. Even after we split up. It was hell. I didn’t know what had happened. I couldn’t understand why you’d suddenly changed your tune, and I was so angry with you for being weak and throwing it away.’
‘But I wasn’t—’ I’d had this conversation in my head countless times and I couldn’t believe it was really taking place. I looked around me, to remind myself of where I was. I was still in the station, with the same noises, bustle, purpose around me, but everything had changed. David put a finger to my lips. ‘I want to say this. I’ve thought about saying it so many times. Oh, Lizzy,’ he said softly, ‘when I think about it, what we went through, how miserable I must have made you, and that – that stupid, stupid brother of mine.’
‘It was other things too. I was stupid. All these different bits and pieces, like Mike, the house and all that, Miles…’ I took a deep breath. ‘Well, Miles being a total wacko. And what my family was on about and stuff – and you most of all. I’ve been blind. But not any more.’
David smiled. ‘Really?’ he said.
‘I’m wise now,’ I said. And I meant it. ‘Even without you. Those things can’t hurt me any more. It’s just…the idea I hurt you so much. I hate that.’
I cupped his chin and kissed him. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said.
David pulled me to him, and said, almost angrily, ‘It’s not you, darling Lizzy. It was never you. I hate what I did to you. The idea of anyone hurting you makes me so angry. So full of – of rage, I don’t know what to do. So when I think about how much I must have upset you, how vicious I was to you…’ He trailed off, then said seriously, in a much quieter voice, ‘And all the time I was furious with you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And you were there, whatever I did. I could hear your voice, the funny things you say, the way you look curled up on my sofa, in my bed, walking through the park. You were everywhere. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Never have been able to.’ He paused. ‘We should be together, Lizzy. We always should have been. It was my fault – it was your fault too, but it was my fault. I shouldn’t have gone to New York.’
‘Yes, you should. I just shouldn’t have been so pathetic about it.’
‘I was scared, you know. I loved you so much but I thought if I go away and we stay together that means it’s marriage and babies and everything – and I didn’t know what you wanted. You were a bit distant. I was on my own so much, I had too much time to think about stuff. I started to think you – perhaps you…Well, that it was me who felt more, and you weren’t missing me…’ He coughed. ‘And I was so angry with you at Christmas when I saw you. I really thought I hated you. For ending it, for not loving me enough. I couldn’t understand it, or why it had gone wrong, so I just assumed it was something you hated about me and never asked you to talk about it properly. It was my fault.’
‘God, no – that was my fault too,’ I said. ‘I was thinking the same thing. I hated you – at least, I thought I did. I never worried about anything till you weren’t there…I should never have believed Miles. I should have trusted you.’
‘Well, I did snog Lisa,’ said David, reasonably. ‘Sort of. She snogged me.’
‘I know…but how about we let that one slide, eh?’ I said, equally reasonably. I put my hands on his chest and he pulled me to him. It felt like coming home. I could feel the warmth and hardness of his body, his fingers digging into my back. He bent his head and kissed me, and I forgot where I was or what had happened over the last year. It was as if we’d never been apart. Tears ran down my cheeks.
‘I love you,’ David said, and kissed me again. ‘Fuck, this is strange.’
‘Don’t swear,’ I said, patting my pockets for a tissue.
‘Here,’ said David, handing me one and taking my suitcase. ‘Now we should go or we’ll be late.’
‘Right, sir,’ I said, and slung my handbag over my shoulder. I grabbed his hand as we walked towards the Heathrow Express. David stopped and kissed me again. ‘God, Lizzy, I can’t believe I’m here with you. If you knew how much I’d missed you—’
‘
Don’t,’ I said, squeezing his hand. ‘I do know, remember?’
‘And there’s no crazy cousins or brothers or friends to get in the way and screw things up. We can do it all by ourselves.’
‘But I don’t think we will,’ I said, and rested my head on his shoulder as we walked towards the train.
Acknowledgements
Thank you so much to the following people for their support and advice and much more besides: Rebecca Folland and Pippa Wright – I don’t know what I would have done without you two, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are beautiful. Thanks also to Clare Betteridge, Jake Poller, Rob Williams, Auriol Bishop, Mary Mount, Liz Iveson and Air Commodore Rowland White. Shout out to Lindsey Jordan for being such a bez for eight years. Charlotte Robertson, thank you for telling me to do it in the first place. Big thanks to my best friend Sophie Linton for her wise ways, her property info and plot rehearsals over wine. And especially to Man Friday Thomas Wilson for being a great friend and computer technician (not in that order). And a special thanks to the gorgeous girls in Puccini’s Caff: Hannah the beautiful bride and the lovely landlady, Caroline, Taissa and Claudia.
To all my lovely friends and colleagues on the Euston Road, in particular Jane Morpeth, Marion Donaldson, Charlotte Mendelson, Clare Foss and Catherine Cobain – thank you.
To the fantastic team at HarperCollins, who have made this such a great experience – thank you so much. In particular to Amanda Ridout, Lee Motley, Damon Greeney, Karen Davies, Kate Elliott, Carl Newbrook, Karen-Maree Griffiths and Shona Martyn with a massive thank you to the great and talented Maxine Hitchcock and the equally great and talented Helen Johnstone – big love to you both, ladies. Thanks also to Hazel Orme.
My biggest thanks go to Mark Lucas and Lynne Drew. I owe all of this to you. Mark, thanks for believing in me right from the start and for your great advice and wisdom (incredible in one so young). You truly are, as Raj said, God’s Creation. Lynne – what can I say? You are the greatest publisher, as well as the greatest friend. I wish you a lifetime’s happy shopping at Anthropologie and much more.
And last of all thanks to my family, my beautiful sister Caroline (big hug) and my parents, Phil and Linda, who are the best parents in the whole world and my inspiration.
Praise
‘A delicious romp through family life, funny and engaging’ Choice
‘A joy from start to finish — sharp, funny and modern as well as warm, cosy and nostalgic’ Fiona Walker
‘Extremely entertaining’ Heat
‘Highly recommended’ Irish Examiner
‘Fabulous… I loved it’ Sophie Kinsella
‘Enchanting’ Jilly Cooper
By the Same Author
Going Home
A Hopeless Romantic
The Love of Her Life
I Remember You
Happily Ever After
Excerpt from Happily Ever After
Read on for an exclusive extract of Harriet’s latest book, Happily Ever After…
‘London eats up pretty girls, you know.’
‘Not me!’ she assured him triumphantly. ‘I’m not afraid!’
Kathleen Winsor, Forever Amber
April 1997
‘SO, ELLE, WHAT are you reading at the moment?’
Her palms were stuck to the leather chair and Elle knew if she moved them they would make a loud, squeaking sound.
‘Me? Oh…’ Elle paused, and tried to gently manoeuvre one hand out of the way, but found she couldn’t. ‘I don’t know. Um…’ She racked her brains for the ‘buzz phrases’ she and Karen had gone over that morning in Karen’s tiny kitchen. Karen had written them on Post-it notes.
Buzz phrase. Buzz phrase. Oh, God.
‘Well, I love reading,’ she said eventually. ‘I’m passionate about it.’
Jenna Taylor tapped her biro on the grey plastic desk. She cast her eyes over to the blue fabric wall dividers, then looked back, forcing a smile to her face. ‘Yes, that’s great, so you’ve said. What are you actually reading at the moment, though?’
Elle already knew this interview could not be going more badly. It was like when she’d begun her second driving test by pulling out and nearly crashing into a grey Mercedes which meant an automatic fail, and she’d still had to take the rest of the twenty-minute test. But her mind was a total blank. She could feel the angry red blush she always got when she was flustered starting to mottle the skin below her collarbone, creeping up her neck. Soon her face would be luminous red. She moved one hand. A high-pitched, farting shriek emanated from the chair. ‘Um — what kind of thing do you mean?’
Jenna’s voice was icy. ‘I mean, can you demonstrate that you’re up to speed with what’s going on in the world of publishing at the moment? If you love books as much as you keep saying you do, it’d be great if you could give some examples of what you’ve read lately.’ She smiled a cold smile.
Elle looked around the tiny open-plan office. It was almost totally silent. She could hear someone typing away at the next office space to Jenna’s, and the whirr of the air conditioner, but apart from that, nothing. No one talking at all. They were all reading, probably. Being intellectual. Making decisions about novels and biographies and poetry and other things. How amazing. How amazing that she was even here, having an interview at Lion Books.
‘Lately…’ Elle knew what the truthful answer was, but she knew there was no way she could actually admit it. She was halfway through Bridget Jones’s Diary and it was the funniest book she thought she’d ever read, plus at least once every other page it made her shout, ‘Oh, my God, me too!’
But she couldn’t say that. She was at an interview for one of the most respected publishers in London. She had to prove she was an intellectual person of merit. Intellectual person, yes. She coughed.
‘Well, the classics, really. I love Henry James. And Emily Brontë. Wuthering Heights is like one of my favourite books ever…. I love reading. I’m passionate about…’ Oh, no.
Jenna crossed her legs and wheeled the chair a little closer. ‘Eleanor, look around my office. If you’d done your research you’d know I publish commercial women’s fiction.’ She slapped some spines on a shelf, dragged out a handful of thick paperbacks. ‘Gold foil. Legs in lacy tights. I need a secretary who wants to work with commercial authors.’ Her face was hard. ‘If you like Henry James so much perhaps you should be applying for a job at Penguin Classics.’
Elle could feel hot tears burning at the backs of her eyes. The red blush was crawling across her cheeks, she knew it. I don’t understand Henry James. I only liked The Buccaneers on TV. I’ve applied for jobs everywhere and no one’s interested. I’ve been sleeping on a friend’s floor for three months and eating Coco Pops twice a day. I’m drinking in the last-chance saloon, Jenna. Please, please give me a break.
‘…If you’d told me you liked Bridget Jones, for example, or you were reading Nick Hornby, or Jilly or even bloody Lace I’d have some indication that, despite your total lack of office experience, you were interested in working in publishing. Hmm?’ Jenna fingered a lock of long Titian hair with her slim fingers.
‘I do like Bridget Jones,’ Elle said softly. ‘I love it.’
‘Really.’ Jenna obviously didn’t believe her. She looked at her watch. ‘OK, is there anything else you’d like to say?’
‘Oh.’ Elle looked down at her sweating thighs, clad in bobbling black tights and a grey and black kilt that, she realised now, was far too short when she was sitting down. ‘Just that… Oh.’
I know I screwed this up, can you give me another chance?
I really need this job otherwise I have to go back to Sussex and I can’t live with Mum any more, I just can’t.
I have read Lace, some bits several times, in fact, it’s just I can’t talk about it without blushing.
My skirt is too short and I will address this issue should you employ me.
No, no, no. ‘I — no. Thank you very much. It was lovely to meet you.
I…fingers crossed!’ And Elle finished by holding her hands up, making a thumbs-up sign with one, and crossing her fingers with the other.
‘Right…’ Jenna said. There was a pause as both of them stared at Elle’s hands, shaking in mid-air. ‘Thanks for coming in, Ellen. Great to meet you.’
‘Eleanor…’ Elle whispered. ‘Yes,’ she said more loudly. ‘Thanks — thank you! For this opportunity.’ That was one of the phrases, she remembered now. ‘I’m a keen enthusiastic self-starter and I’ll work my guts out for you,’ she added, randomly. But Jenna was ushering her out down the narrow maze of passageways, and Elle realised she wasn’t listening, and furthermore she, Eleanor Bee, still had one hand cocked in a thumbs-up sign. ‘Idiot,’ she muttered, as they reached the lifts.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Jenna smoothed down her lilac crêpe dress and fanned her fingers through her glossy hair.
‘Ah. Nothing,’ Elle added. She got into the lift. ‘Thanks again. Sorry. Thanks then — bye.’
The lift doors closed, shutting out Jenna’s bemused face.
I MADE A thumbs-up sign.
Elle weaved her way down the Strand, swinging her handbag and trying to look jaunty. ‘Let’s all go down the Strand,’ she sang under her breath. ‘Have a banana. Oh, what . . .’ Her voice cracked, and she trailed off. She glanced at her reflection in a shop window and shuddered. She looked awful, that stupid short skirt, why had she bought it? And that silly blue top, it was supposed to look like silky wool, but what that actually meant was that she had to hand wash it. Her light brown hair was too long and thick, tucked behind her ears and sticking out in tufts. She stared at the window again, and winced. She was looking into the window of a Dillons bookshop with a banner bearing the legend ‘Our Spring Bestsellers’.
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