‘We did it, Luke. You, me and Ann. We did it together.’
‘And even though my sisters have a caravan for the convoy, I still want to ride in Nomad with you.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that. You have to be up there at the front with me and Ann.’
‘Luke. Are you right, come on!’ Dad shouts in.
‘I better go before your old fella loses it. I’ll call you later, okay?’ He leans in and kisses me and I wrap my arms up around his neck, leaning in close.
I walk with him to the front door and even though Dad is watching, I don’t stop holding his hand. I love him. We’ve not said that to each other, but we will one day soon. Because I know he feels the same way too.
Mam said yesterday that she worries that we are both too young to be so serious about each other. But she’s wrong and I told her so.
Love knows no age. Love just is.
I wish Pops were here to see the record-breaking attempt with me. But I feel his presence all the time. Little things that happen, that we all call Wi-Fi now, that make us remember his words, his letters, his love.
OLLY
I pretend to scowl at Evie and Luke as they kiss goodbye. It’s in my job description to be the over-protective dad. But in truth, I don’t mind in the least. I like the kid. Luke is a good guy and has proved himself over and over this past year or so. Not least of which in his enthusiasm to help Evie and Ann organise the record-breaking attempt.
I’m so proud of Evie. It’s been a work in progress, teaching her to be confident, to walk with her head held high. We had to be careful not to make her too reliant on us. In the end she went back to her own school and looked Martina and Deirdre in the eye, telling them that she forgave them. And I think that killed them both more than anything else. They wanted a row, they wanted the drama, but they didn’t get it. Evie just got on with her life and eliminated the toxic parts of it.
That’s what we’ve all done, really. There’s days when Mae and I barely see each other because of work. But every night, no matter what has gone on that day, we go to bed together. When I’m in Romania, we Skype every day and I can honestly say that I never leave anything unsaid.
I don’t think even my wise Pops could have predicted how life-changing his surprise adventure would be for us all. Our lives are unrecognisable, yet exactly as they were and how they should be now. None of us want to take this for granted. We don’t want to forget. So between us all, we came up with our Guinness Family House Rules, which we’ve had printed, framed and hung in our hallway. These rules are mostly based on the wisdom Pops imparted to us. But we came up with a few of our own lessons too.
The Guinness Family found their way back home.
Acknowledgements
Dear Reader
My first thanks go to you all! Whether you’ve been with me since the beginning or this is your first Mrs H read, I’m so very grateful that you chose The Things I Should Have Told You. I love our chats on Facebook and Twitter. One of the nicest parts of this writing malarkey is the wonderful fun I have with you all, talking books! Know that every message of support, every review, every shout-out is cherished.
I hope you enjoyed the Guinness Family and their story about how they made their way home to each other. Over the years, like them, I’ve also boldly gone and travelled the world. I’ve backpacked around the Greek Islands, whale-watched in Fremantle Harbour in the Australian sunshine, flown around South Africa in a two-seater Cessna, survived an earthquake in the Philippines and snorkelled in the Caribbean seas whilst holding hands with my husband. I’ve wept in the Garden of Remembrance in Berlin and joyfully watched my children do the hot-dog dance with Mickey Mouse in Disney World. These travels have given me some of the best adventures of my life. And there’s no doubt that these experiences have helped to shape me into the woman I am today.
Like the Guinnesses, I want to teach my children that the world is both a big and a small place. That abject poverty can sit side by side with lavish wealth and kindness can be found in the most remote and unusual of places.
As a child, I was a book nerd, just like Evie. And like her, I was bullied too. So to all the Evies out there, young or old, remember that being different is kinda cool. Don’t let the bullies win, don’t change, you are perfect just as you are.
Thank you to Tracy Brennan, my fabulous agent, for all your hard work on my behalf and for your friendship. I’d also like to thank the amazing team at HarperCollins Ireland – Tony Purdue, Mary Byrne and Ann-Marie Dolan for welcoming me into your little family and taking such good care of me. We’ve had a lot of fun over this past year and I can’t wait to see what the next twelve months bring.
Thank you to everyone at HarperCollins UK who played a part to help bring The Things I Should Have Told You to life – Kimberley Young, Jaime Frost, Cait Davies, Elizabeth Dawson, Lucy Vanderbilt, Charlie Redmayne and so many more. Thank you to Heike Schüssler for the amazing cover art. Special thanks to Charlotte Ledger, friend and warrior queen, the first to see something in my writing, who made my dream a reality. And to Emily Ruston, my editor, for her wonderful suggestions that helped make the Guinness family sparkle, I will be forever grateful. You pushed me hard, but the story is so much better for it.
The life of an author could be solitary, but for me, I’m lucky to have a huge gang of writerly friends, who find ways to hold me up when I’m under pressure and who also make life a whole lot more fun. In no particular order, thank you to Claudia Carroll, my two mosquitos - Hazel Gaynor & Fionnuala Kearney, Alex Brown, Margaret Madden, Louise Hall, Ciara Murphy, Caroline Busher, Catherine Evans, Damian Byrne, Valerie Whitford, Biddymay Quigley, Sharon Thompson, Maria Nolan, Lynn Marie Hulsman, Cat Hogan, Cathy Keane, all at Wexford Literary Festival, the IWI’ers and the amazing supportive book blogger community, too many to mention. Thank you also to Elaine Crowley of TV3’s Midday show for letting me be part of your fantastic show, it’s always great fun.
Special thanks to Sophie Hedley, of ‘Reviewed the Book’, who has, for each of my books, done a Twitter daily countdown to publication day and to Melissa Puli, commissioning editor of ChickLit Club, all- round legend who came up with the genius Guinness surname for my family! I hope that you like that I named Luke’s sisters after you both.
My supportive family and friends, I love and thank you. Mam and Dad – Tina and Michael O’Grady; my siblings and their other halves – Fiona and Michael Gainfort, John and Fiona O’Grady, Michelle and Anthony Mernagh; my in-laws – Mrs Evelyn Harrington, Adrienne Harrington and George Whyte, Evelyn and Seamus Moher and Leah Harrington; nieces and nephews – Sheryl, Amy, Louis, Paddy and Matilda; aunt and uncle – Ann and Nigel Payne; and my person, Ann Murphy. Evie’s best friend is pretty special so I couldn’t think of a better name for her than yours, my best friend.
I’m going to reach out to my own ‘Wi-Fi’ now and thank my grandparents. (This will only make sense if you’ve read the book!) While they are not here any more, they kind of are, because they are part of the wonderful and wise Pops. Margaret and John O’Grady, John Farrelly and Corinne Syms taught me so much about family, love and life. I miss them and wish that they were still here with us all.
I’m lucky to have lots of friends who help keep me sane! The dinners, drinks, chats and laughs but also the support you give me with the children when I’m under pressure with a deadline are incredible. Catherine and Graham, Sarah and John, Rosaleen and Chris, Davnet and Kevin, Fiona and Philip (keep moving those books around P!), my childhood pals Maria, Siobhan and Elizabeth.
I know that if this were the Oscars, the music has started and it’s time for me to exit stage left. Nearly done, I promise! Huge thanks to Crossabeg Childcare Centre. Nate will join Amelia in school this September (sob!!!) and the H’s say goodbye to all at the centre. Every single member of staff there, past and present, took such good care of my children. Knowing that they were safe and loved made it easy for me to switch off and write. That has been a gift.
Th
e last words must go to my H’s. As Pops said, all that matters is family. We know that’s true, right? Roger, Amelia, Nate and Eva, you are the loves of my life. As I always say, I couldn’t do this without you all, wouldn’t want to.
Thank you all for reading,
Carmel
Read on for an exclusive look at Carmel’s stunning Christmas novel, based on the timeless movie It’s a Wonderful Life.
Every Time a Bell Rings
‘Beautiful and uplifting … Written with such heart it warms the soul’ – Claudia Carroll
‘Embraces the spirit and the message of the movie … A must read’ – Karolyn Grimes, actress, ‘ZuZu’ in It’s a Wonderful Life
Prologue
Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.
Hamilton Wright Mabie
Christmas Eve, 2005
‘Happiness is …’ I exhale a long, deep, satisfied sigh, and the cold breath of winter floats out of my mouth up into the air.
‘This is the best Christmas street lighting yet.’
I know I say the same thing every year, in this very same spot, at this very same time. I’ll probably say it again next year too.
In this moment, I’ve never seen anything more perfect. The Victorian-inspired decorations are from a bygone era that shine with goodwill to all men. I know, I know, that sounds all cheese on toast, but when it comes to Christmas, that’s allowed. With extra parmesan on top, as far as I’m concerned.
My city, my beloved Dublin, is sparkling in a festive glow. And its inhabitants are collectively holding their breaths, because Christmas is almost here.
And this year, I’ve been delivered an early Christmas present. The fact that it’s the same one I received when I was eight years old isn’t lost on me. Coincidence, fate, magic, I don’t know what forces are at play to make this happen, but I’m grateful.
Just two weeks ago, I was single, happily so too, living my best life, teaching kids in St Colmcille’s. I honest to goodness didn’t wake up each day lamenting the lack of love in my life. Because I had a good life, boyfriends coming and going. I figured that one day I would meet Mr Right. But now that he is here, I cannot believe that I ever got through each day without him by my side.
Here I am, at the foot of Grafton Street with Jim Looney of all people. If you would have suggested such a thing to me a mere few weeks ago, the words ‘look up’ and ‘flying pigs’ would have been uttered.
Jim Looney.
I sigh again as I take him in, standing beside the statue of Molly Malone, laughing at the tinsel that someone has draped over her cleavage.
An image of Jim strutting down a runway pops into my head and I giggle at the thought. He could give any male model a run for their money, but I think he’d rather pull his nails out one by one than do that.
I grab my phone and take a photo of him. I’ve already taken at least a dozen this evening. He could be modelling a new line in men’s winter clothing, he looks so good. I mean, not many could get away with that multi-coloured Dr Who-inspired scarf wrapped around his neck over and over. But on him it looks quirky and cool.
And, this is the bit that I still can’t quite believe.
He’s my boyfriend. All mine.
Don’t go getting too used to this, Belle. It never lasts.
I quickly banish the little voice inside my head. Go away nasty mean voice.
I know full well that I’m punching above my weight. I mean, for goodness sake, he’s even got a chiselled jawline. Seriously, I’m telling you, he’s fecking gorgeous. I can’t find ways to describe him to you without sounding like a big sap. But trust me when I say this. He’s, as we are want to say in Dublin about a good-looking man, a ‘ride’.
When I look into his big blue eyes, I’m done for. I keep forgetting what I’m about to say when he directs those baby blues at me.
And don’t get me started on his hair. That’s always been my Achilles heel. It makes me feel all protective and full of love. You see, it has this habit of just flopping over his right eye. I’m sure most would say it’s red or ginger, maybe even auburn. But I like to call it foxy.
Jim McFoxy Looney.
When it does that flopping thing, it’s as if my hands have a mind of their own and they involuntarily reach up to brush it back off his forehead. But there again, I’m not complaining about that, because I don’t need any excuse to touch Jim. And I’ve realised that when I do touch him, it seems to have a delicious knock-on effect. One minute I’m lightly touching his forearm, then the next we’re kissing.
A shiver ripples through me as I remember what happened only this morning when I brushed past him on my way into the bathroom.
Twice.
Who would have thought that Jim Looney had that in him? I’m telling you, it’s ridiculous how sexy he is.
He is, no other word for it, but a fecking ride.
You’ll notice that I’ll find any excuse to say that.
Jim Looney, the big ride, my boyfriend.
I feel a bit giddy with it all, to be honest. It’s like it’s five o’clock all the time and I’m half drunk. The mad thing is, I’ve not had much to drink in weeks. Jim’s not a big drinker and that in itself is charming, because all the guys I’ve dated recently seem to be more in love with a pint of lager than me. Kind of refreshing to be with a guy who gets that there are more things to do in life than prop up a bar.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Jim asks, with a raised eyebrow.
‘Ah, that would be telling,’ I say with a grin.
Thank goodness he can’t read thoughts. If I tell him what I’ve just been thinking, we’ll be in a taxi and on our way back to my apartment before the words are out of my mouth. And as tempting as that thought is, it will have to wait.
Because it’s Christmas Eve and we’re on Grafton Street, where its festive delights await us.
‘So, tell me about this tradition of yours, the one you do every Christmas Eve?’ Jim asks.
‘This is my tenth year. Started because of Joyce O’Connor,’ I say.
‘Why do I get the feeling there’s a story there?’ Jim remarks.
‘Oh yes, there’s a story alright. She asked me to go into the city with her one Christmas Eve, when I was fifteen,’ I say.
I wonder what Joyce is up to now. We lost touch a long time ago. But she’s wrapped up in this particular tradition and standing here usually sparks a memory of her.
She wasn’t even a close friend. In fact, if I’m calling a spade a spade, she was a bit of a bitch. I don’t know why I said yes in the first place when she asked me to go with her. I mean, she’d been one of those passive aggressive wagons for years. The queen of making snide comments behind my back, giving inverted compliments that everyone knows is really an insult.
I spent half my childhood trying to dodge Joyce and her cronies in the hallways at school. Anything to avoid one of her ‘chats’.
‘I remember her. At least I think I’m remembering the right one. Blonde, small girl? Touch of the mean girls about her? She was one of the gang who used to give you a hard time,’ Jim says.
I laugh, yep, he’s got her number. ‘Good memory. She had her moments, for sure. And the only reason she asked me to go with her on that day was because she had no other options. Her usual cronies were busy and she needed a decoy. Her parents would never have let her go off to meet a boy on her own. But a nice innocent trip into town with a friend, well, that was different.’
‘Oh, I get it. You got to be a big, fat, green, hairy gooseberry,’ Jim says.
I nod. ‘I’d nothing better to do, so thought, why not? And it made Tess happy when I told her I was off gallivanting. She was always worrying about me being such a loner.’
‘Did you have fun in the end?’ Jim says. ‘Maybe she wasn’t as bad as you thought?’
‘No, we didn’t bond over hot chocolate or anything. She was true to form and remained a wagon. But despite that, I did have fun,’ I say.
The 16B bus had been jammers with lots of people with the same idea, to head into the city to soak up the festive atmosphere.
‘Joyce didn’t even bother keeping up a pretence that we were together for more than a few minutes. Once we jumped on board the bus she ran upstairs to the upper deck and within seconds was doing a round of tonsil hockey with a pimply, horny boy called Billy Doyle. I swear her arse hadn’t even hit the seat he’d saved for her before his tongue was down her throat,’ I say.
‘You can’t buy class.’ Jim says shaking his head.
‘A right dirt bird.’ I say and he laughs with me. ‘You know, they hadn’t even bothered to save a seat for me. As the upper deck was so full, I had no choice but to retreat back downstairs, tail between my legs and stand. Joyce didn’t give me a backwards glance, the cheeky mare,’ I say.
I marvel that I ever allowed myself to be treated like that.
‘Once we arrived at O’Connell Street, the two love birds headed to McDonalds to share a strawberry shake. It was clear I wasn’t included in their romantic date, so I left them to it. I suppose I should have been annoyed with her, but I didn’t mind in the slightest.’
Jim throws a sympathetic glance my way, but I’m quick to reassure him, ‘I was used to my own company back then, preferred it a lot of the time.’
It baffled me as to why they wanted to sit on plastic seats in a noisy fast-food restaurant, when they could be out, soaking up the Christmassy atmosphere in the city.
‘It was their loss. I got to explore Dublin, on my own. It was almost dusk and the city changes in that light. Everything seemed so magical.’
I pause, feeling embarrassed, ‘This probably sounds silly but, to me, it felt like I was looking at my city with new eyes.’
‘Not silly at all.’ Jim replies. ‘You know what I thought when we got to O’Connell Street? There’s a touch of Bedford Falls about it all now. You know, the town in It’s a Wonderful Life.’
I smile and nod in agreement. I’ve always thought the same. ‘I love that movie.’
The Things I Should Have Told You Page 32