A Year and a Day

by Isabelle Broom

  Ollie’s eyes widened behind his glasses, so wise and full of hope. Megan had missed those eyes so much; she had missed his eyes and his hands and his lips and his smell and his ability to make her feel like the most treasured person on the planet. And more than that, she had missed who she was when she was with him.

  ‘That’s why the padlock on the invitation is open,’ she said. ‘Because so is my heart.’

  Ollie didn’t need to hear any more; he was already running his hands from her chin around the back of her neck, his mouth inches from her own. When he kissed her, Megan felt every part of her begin to sing, and she pulled him against her. There was nothing in her gut now but warmth, nothing in her heart but love. This was where she was meant to be, where she would flourish – she knew it with an instinct that almost overwhelmed her with its sweet simplicity. The future was no longer a dark passage but an open meadow of possibility, one filled with happiness, laughter, companionship and maybe, just maybe, some children of their own one day. She and Ollie belonged to each other, they always had.

  There was a polite cough, and Megan pulled away from Ollie, blushing as she turned to find three figures standing a few feet away. Hope’s hand was clasped firmly in Charlie’s, who was gazing at them both with unbridled satisfaction, while Sophie was smiling next to them, a hand pressed against her own heart as if she could sense how close Megan’s was to bursting.

  ‘Glad to see you two are getting along,’ teased Hope, her eyes shining.

  ‘I could say the same to you,’ Megan replied, catching the older woman’s eye and grinning.

  Hope let go of Charlie and came closer, beckoning to Sophie as she did so. With a superhuman effort, Megan relinquished Ollie’s hand and let herself be drawn into a corner with the two women.

  ‘Can you believe they came?’ Hope whispered, delight making her cheeks glow bright pink.

  ‘I knew Ollie would,’ said Sophie, glancing over her shoulder at a large framed photo of the man in question examining a sculpture in Kampa Park. ‘He couldn’t really have missed seeing this, could he?’

  ‘I suppose not.’ Megan laughed in relief, before turning to Hope. ‘What’s happening with you and Charlie?’

  Hope blushed an even darker shade of puce. ‘I never thought he’d actually turn up,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t think I ever really explained to him what was going on in my head, and then I let him walk away from me in Prague. I didn’t handle the situation well at all.’

  ‘He’s here, though, isn’t he?’ Sophie pointed out happily.

  Hope beamed, looking across with affection to where Charlie and Ollie were now standing by the bar with a bottle of beer each. ‘I just had to learn how to take my own advice,’ she continued. ‘Do you remember me telling you, Megan, that you had to do what made you happy and put yourself first?’

  Megan nodded in agreement.

  ‘Well, I finally realised that what I needed to do in order to be happy was to find out who I really was. All I ever knew how to do was be a mum and a wife, but I wanted more than that – I wanted my own life. Taking over the B&B has been such an eye-opener, I can tell you. I’ve never worked harder in my life, but I’m actually really good at it.’

  ‘Well done you!’ Megan was thrilled.

  ‘But even with my work and having a grandchild on the way, there was still something missing,’ Hope said. ‘I almost didn’t dare hope that Charlie would agree to see me again – let alone that he still loved me.’

  ‘And does he?’ Sophie asked, even though they all knew the answer.

  ‘He does,’ Hope smiled, her eyes bright. ‘He really does. And I love him, too.’

  It was such a lovely moment that even Megan didn’t baulk when Hope pulled them into a group hug, kissing each of their cheeks and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  ‘What did you think of Adam?’ Megan asked Sophie as they broke apart, careful to keep her tone light.

  ‘He’s nice.’ Sophie hesitated. ‘He gave me his number, actually, just because I’ve been to India before and he’s going there. I probably won’t use it, but …’ She trailed off.

  ‘It’s okay.’ Megan gave her shoulders a squeeze. ‘All in good time.’

  The three women looked at each other in turn, each one celebrating an individual victory in their shared moment of friendship. Then Hope peered up at the ceiling.

  ‘They’ve started turning the lights off,’ she said. ‘Do you think that’s our cue to leave?’

  ‘So they have.’ Megan glanced around at the rapidly dimming room. ‘I didn’t even notice.’

  They made their way back across the studio to join the others, and Megan’s insides turned to liquid yet again as Ollie slid his arm around her shoulder.

  ‘I still can’t believe you came,’ Hope said, leaning happily against Charlie. ‘I honestly thought I’d lost you for good.’

  ‘He still needed me to hold his hand, though,’ Ollie put in, and Hope cackled.

  ‘Oh really?’ she said. ‘And here was me thinking that it was you who was too chicken to come on your own.’

  Ollie opened his mouth, but Charlie spoke across him.

  ‘This beautiful lady here has offered to take me on a date,’ he told them. ‘But only if we let you lot come along, too. We thought it would be nice to grab a bit of dinner along the river.’ His cheeks flushed as he added, ‘That’s if you two don’t have other plans?’

  Megan blushed as she pictured the plans she and Ollie would almost certainly have in a few hours’ time. For now, though, she was content to simply bask in the glow of their shared feelings – and what better way to do that than with friends?

  ‘I’m in!’ She turned to Ollie.

  ‘Me too,’ he said, smiling at the group and then down at her, leaning over to kiss her again until Hope started clapping her hands.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, stepping forward and linking arms with Megan. ‘I think we’ve kept these boys waiting for us long enough, don’t you?’

  The sun was just beginning to dip as they set off along the bank of the Thames, each remarking in turn how beautiful London looked when it was bathed in such flattering light. Waterloo Bridge lay ahead of them, its cream arches turned grey with the promise of approaching darkness. Beyond the bridge, Big Ben stood tall and proud above the Houses of Parliament, its round clock face so reminiscent of the city where they had all come together.

  The London Eye was lit up in an array of pinks and blues, and Megan knew that if she were to lift up her camera, she would be able to capture the excitement and awe on the faces pressed up against the glass, as people of every age and nationality garnered their own mental snapshot of London, unaware that they were each adding their moment to a tapestry of history that was already so rich.

  But she didn’t feel that need tonight, and for once it didn’t worry her. All she had needed to inspire her was love – it had just taken her a while to figure it out.

  Back along the river, behind the locked doors of the studio, a single spotlight flickered into life. From its position high above the cityscape of photos, it was almost like a moon – a neat yellow pebble, so clear and true in the darkness. A passing couple paused to peer through the glass, their eyes following the beam of light right down to the image at its end – the image of a gold cross set in stone, a star on each of its five arms.

  As they stared, each one transfixed by an unknown allure they could feel deep within their chests, the spotlight flickered again and went out. There was no light in the room now, but they could still see the cross. It glowed golden and bright, as if lit from within, just as it always had.

  Acknowledgements

  I only went and wrote another novel! My first thanks must go to you, dearest reader, for picking up the book and coming on this journey with me. I really hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to come and chat to me about it on Twitter @Isabelle_Broom. I would dearly love to hear from you.

  Hannah Ferguson – aka agent extraordinaire – what woul
d I do without you? Your continued support, advice, enthusiasm, brilliance and hard work astonish me on a daily basis, and it’s no exaggeration to say that I hold you responsible for making all my dreams come true, and then some. The team at Hardman & Swainson and the Marsh Agency are nothing short of legendary – Camilla and Fay, we got there in the end! Huge thanks and love to every single one of you.

  Oh, Miss Kimberley Atkins of Penguin Michael Joseph, where do I even start? I know where, by telling you that you are the undisputed empress of all editors EVER. Thank you for your boundless energy, inexhaustible encouragement, truly masterful editing skills and total professionalism at all times. I don’t think you’ll ever know just how much I love and admire you. I honestly couldn’t do any of this without you, so thank you. To Maxine Hitchcock, Claire Bush, Jenny Platt, Sarah Bance, Emma Brown and everyone at Penguin who worked towards getting this book baby out into the world – you are all amazing! Jess Hart, you’ve done it again with this cover, lady. I’m in absolute awe of your talents.

  Being an author is without a doubt the best of all jobs, not least because it all takes place in a world populated by all the very best people. I’d like to thank my author chums Katie Marsh, Stella Newman, Paige Toon, Ali Harris, Giovanna Fletcher, Rosie Walsh, Kirsty Greenwood, Cesca Major, Cressida McLaughlin, Lisa Dickenson, Jo Thomas, Miranda Dickinson, Milly Johnson, Louise Candlish, Penny Parkes, Hannah Beckerman, Dani Atkins, Kate Eberlen, Fanny Blake, Katie Fforde, Adele Parks, Tasmina Perry, Victoria Fox, Jennifer Barclay, Dorothy Koomson, Rosanna Ley, Julie Cohen, Rowan Coleman, Lindsey Kelk and Victoria Walters for all their love, advice and support. You are all wonderful, brilliant and gorgeous. Massive thanks must also go to Claire ‘Frosty’ Frost, Francesca Brown, Francesca Russell, Georgina Moore, Ben Willis, Sophie Ransom, Jenny Stallard, Nina Pottell, Sara-Jade Virtue, Fran Gough, Anne Cater, Sharon Wilden, Vicki Bowles, Linda Hill and Effrosyni Moschoudi, and to all the other bloggers, book fans and readers who take the time to post reviews. It’s thanks to you that novels find their way under the noses of new people, which is what it’s all about.

  Oh, and I mustn’t forget to thank my Book Angel, Annette Hannah, firstly for letting me pinch her name for one of the characters in this book, but even more importantly for making me giggle like a drunken Muttley whenever I see her.

  To my heat family, both past and present, you are all amazing. Thanks so much for all the support you’ve given me and for being generally hilarious on a daily basis. We will always have each other, no matter what.

  I feel extremely lucky to have such epic friends, and if I could list every single one of you here then I would, but paper is apparently really expensive. Tchuh! I do, however, want to thank my beautiful, bold, brilliant and blooming hilarious best friend Sadie Davies, without whom life would lose so much incomparable fun and adventure. Thanks also to Ian Lawton, who has the biggest heart and best laugh of anyone I know, and to Tom Harding, Dominic Morgan, Ewan Bishop, Sarah Holmes, Corrie Heale, Jamie Green, Matt Hurrell, Lisa Howells, Daniel Tang, Alex Holbrook, Charlotte McKeggie, Vicky Zimmerman, Molly Haynes, Mark Tamsett, Lindsey Perkins, Richard Perry, Jonathan Paul Gunson, the KMC Massive – aka Tamsin Carroll and Gemma Courage – and my uni crew, Ranjit Dhillon, Colette Berry, Sarah Beddingfield, Chad Higgins, Jim Morris, Carrie Wallder and Sue Pigott. You are all legends.

  To my family, this is where I run out of words. What is there to say except thank you for always being there and for championing me from the rooftops. Mum, from that big blue notebook you bought me to write stories in aged six, to the present day, when you stay awake all night to read the first drafts of my novels: you’ve always been my rock, my best friend and my inspiration. I do ALL of it for you, every single last word.

  THE BEGINNING

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  PENGUIN BOOKS

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  Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.

  First published 2016

  Copyright © Isabelle Broom, 2016

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Cover photos © Shutterstock

  ISBN: 978–1–405–92584–6