by C. J. Duggan
‘R-really?’
Nana shrugged. ‘I did. Made me think that it was time to wipe the dust away and give my belongings to someone who not only admires, but respects fashion and the memories and culture attached to it. I mean, Lord knows your mother would have them in an auction house if she could; no, they belong to you, Kate. I couldn’t think of a more worthy owner.’
I shook my head, still struggling to register what I had just heard. ‘I think that might just be the compliment of my life.’
Nana scoffed. ‘Well, Jack, you better lift your game; if you’re going to date my granddaughter, you’re going to have to pull out a few more stops.’
I thought back to last night, Jack kissing me and dancing with me under the Baccarat chandelier at the Corinthia, how we had drunk champagne on the roof terrace and made love until the morning sun lit the murky waters of the Thames. Jack was off to a fine start.
‘So I have your blessing then, Joy? To date your granddaughter?’
Jack’s words snapped me out of my daydream, bringing my attention to Nana, who assessed him with a cold, hard stare.
‘Can you lift heavy things?’
Jack laughed. ‘Yes.’
‘Good, help Kate set up her room with whatever she wants,’ she said, making her way slowly back down the stairs.
‘Wait, what, Nana …’ I called out, going after her until we re-entered the hallway and stood face to face. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Deathly serious, otherwise I wouldn’t have nearly broken poor Vera’s back clearing out the room for you.’
I could feel hot tears brim in my eyes.
Nana fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with my emotion. ‘It’s a blank slate now, choose what you want, set it up how you want just … keep the noise down,’ she said, breaking away before I had a chance to reach out and hug the life out of her.
‘Nana,’ I called out after her, causing her to stop at the top of the stairs.
‘I’m sorry that I said I was nothing like you; I am like you, more than I ever realised. And I’m very proud to be.’
Nana smiled mockingly. ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Katherine, you and I both know that there’s only room in this life for one of me,’ she said, before returning to her slow descent down the stairs.
I watched her go, feeling Jack come to stand beside me.
‘She’s one of a kind, your nan, that’s for sure.’
I shook my head. ‘She most certainly is.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
I wasn’t sure what Nana was whingeing about, I thoroughly enjoyed Richard and Judy’s selection. But after meeting Cybil, Jean, Rose, Margaret and Carol – the lovely ladies of the book club – and while being wary of ruining the deep-thinking, literary sensibility of the club, I couldn’t help but feel they needed some spice in their lives. Sitting in a loose circle in Nana Joy’s parlour, I decided to take a chance, producing a copy of Shipwrecked Hearts from my bag. Seeing their eyes light up, I could see my instincts were right on the money.
‘Now, I have read this and unfortunately it is out of print, but I’m sure I could hunt down some copies on eBay, maybe, or I—’
‘Yes!’ said Jean cutting me off. ‘I think that would be a fine idea.’
Carol took it from my hand, adjusting her glasses and looking rather scandalised at the cover. ‘Oh yes, I think a change is certainly worth a try – what do you think, Joy?’
Nana, whose lips were pursed, looked around the room with condescension. ‘Oh, honestly, who would bother with such smut?’
I looked pointedly at her, knowing damn well that she knew where I had found the copy.
Nana deliberately turned away from me. ‘But if that’s what you ladies want to read, who am I to say no?’
Rose clapped excitedly. ‘Pass it over here, Carol.’
‘In a minute, I’m just reading the blurb.’
‘Ha! Like you care about the plot,’ teased Margaret. ‘Hurry up, don’t be a hog.’
Yep, I would have find more copies before all hell broke loose.
By the end of the afternoon’s excitement, Nana excused herself from the riff-raff.
‘I think I might lie down, Vera, you ladies always manage to exhaust me,’ she said, grabbing her stick and moving slowly to the hall.
‘You okay, Nana? Do you need some help?’
She placed her hand up, cutting me off. ‘I’m all right,’ she snapped. ‘Just see the ladies out, would you?’
‘Okay.’ I smiled, relieved that she was back to her old rotten self.
I couldn’t really blame Nana this time around. I wasn’t making excuses for her, but even I was exhausted by an afternoon with these ladies and I was all too happy to show them the door.
‘Do you think you could get me two copies, Kate?’ asked Rose, as I helped her with her things out the door.
‘Leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do.’
Ushering the last of the ladies out the door, I crashed into the back of Rose as they all stopped suddenly on the porch.
‘Ladies, what’s the hold-up?’ I followed their eyeline, confused and slightly annoyed, until my attention locked onto a six-foot-four man standing at my gate.
‘Oh, my word,’ said Cybil. They slowly descended the stairs, whispering and giggling like a group of schoolgirls. Jack stood aside to let them through.
‘Ladies,’ he said, flashing them a winning smile.
More giggles erupted and I couldn’t help but shake my head as Jack moved up the front steps to the door.
‘What can I say? I have a way with the ladies.’
‘Well, I’d be careful if I was you, they’re about to read the book I was reading.’
Horror wrote itself across Jack’s face as he turned to watch the old ducks shuffle down the street. ‘Jesus.’
‘Yep, there goes the neighbourhood,’ I said, folding my arms and leaning against the door.
‘Speaking of neighbourhoods, do you want to escape this one for a while?’
I glanced behind me, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind me.
‘Well, Nana’s having a nap, so I could probably break away for a bit.’
‘You don’t have to ask permission anymore – you know that, right?’
‘Old habits die hard.’
‘Well, clearly, seeing as you climbed over my balcony last night when you could have just used my front door.’
‘Ah, yes, but where’s the fun in that?’
‘Well, if you want to keep things spicy, come with me right now.’
‘Jack, if you’re taking me to a curry house, you should know I’m no good with chilli.’
Jack laughed. ‘You are something else, Kate Brown.’
‘I’m serious, I don’t want—’
‘I’m not taking you to a bloody curry house.’
‘Oh, well, what then?’
Jack stepped forward until my back hit the door.
‘I’m going to take you to so many places, and show you so many things, every single chance I get, starting from now.’
My mouth twitched. ‘Oh yeah, and where are you taking me now?’
Jack grinned, taking me by the hand and pulling me into motion.
‘You’ll see.’
I could honestly say that, aside from the view from a luxury penthouse suite, a river cruise was the second-best way to see London, though for someone who had barely been out their front door, the recommendation may not mean a whole lot. The Thames River spanned over three hundred kilometres straight through the heart of the city, dividing the north and the south sides of London, and the dinner cruise that Jack had booked took us through the very best parts.
I kept my hair pulled back at the nape of my neck. Long blonde strands still whipped around my face wildly, but I didn’t care, for that afternoon I was unashamedly a tourist, standing and pointing, smiling and basking in the glorious sunshine that the London clouds kindly let through for our voyage. Jack didn’t say much, he didn’t need to, content to watch
in quiet amusement at my excitement. Being here with Jack, gliding past the London Eye pier, down from Big Ben, the Tower of London and my favourite, the iconic Tower Bridge, I thought my heart would burst. Along the way down Bankside we passed the historic Shakespeare’s Globe, a replica of the old one that burnt down in the seventeenth century, or so the PA system informed us. Feeling the wind against my skin and the sun burning brightly above, it was anyone’s guess if I was more likely to suffer from an acute dose of windburn or sunburn, the latter not something I would have ever thought would be an issue in England. Spying on the banks lined with eateries, bars and theatres, I could completely imagine my life here; I finally felt a sense of belonging that was hard to explain. Maybe it was due to my heritage, or my deep, unabiding love for full English breakfasts, but this was definitely home.
I stretched my legs out and folded my arms, momentarily distracted from the awe of my environment by a niggling thought that popped into my head. ‘I can’t believe you haven’t asked me,’ I said, turning expectantly toward him.
‘Asked you what?’
‘About my interview with Charlotte.’
‘Oh, that, well, hey.’ He held his hands up. ‘Nothing to do with me.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Don’t you want to know? I mean, you probably do, or you’ll no doubt find out, but I mean you don’t have to be like that, I just thought that—’
‘Kate.’ Jack laughed. ‘What happened?’
I didn’t know if it was the choppy surface of the river, or just my nerves that were making my insides twist, but I bit my lip and watched Jack’s face expectantly. ‘Charlotte offered me a position to write content for her website, a home for “Kate on the Thames”. I could talk all things fashion and do interviews and write a column if I wanted, it would be great exposure, a dream job really.’
Jack’s face was unchanged as he looked at me.
‘I said no to her offer.’ I winced, and started to twist my hands. ‘It’s not that I’m ungrateful, it’s just that I kind of want to see where this goes now that there are no secrets and I have all this inspiring content at my fingertips, and a space where I can be creative and not trapped in an office or answer to anyone but myself. I know that it’s an amazing chance I’m passing up but I just think I have to go with my gut on this one … I’m sorry.’
‘Kate, what have I told you?’
I remained silent, trying to recall what he had told me about my career, but then Jack broke into a slow, brilliant smile.
‘My door is always open.’
‘To London Bound?’
‘To everything that is mine.’
I blinked back tears, turning my gaze to the skyline of the city, seeing it from angles those on land would not be privy to. I felt blessed, more so when I felt Jack’s hand slide over mine, linking our fingers and lifting my hand to kiss it.
‘Are you afraid Joy might change her mind?’
I laughed. ‘No, Vera and I won’t let her.’
‘I believe that.’
I turned to him. ‘So, Jack Baker, looks like we’re going to be neighbours for the foreseeable future.’
‘Well, it’s a good thing I really, really, really like you then.’
I smiled, leaning into him, resting my head against the crook of his neck, shielding myself from the river breeze.
‘You haven’t worked it out yet, have you?’
I shook my head. ‘Worked out what?’
‘Why I took you on this particular cruise.’ Jack laughed, leaning into me and whispering into my temple. ‘Now you’re quite literally Kate on the Thames.’
I straightened and looked around, my smile cheesy and bright as I turned back to Jack, giggling.
‘And so I am!’
Acknowledgements
To my loving husband Michael, for taking me around the world in the winter of 2015. For comforting me in moments of horrific turbulence and bouts of food poisoning, and for all the shopping centres I managed to drag you through without complaint. I am a nightmare and you are a saint to travel with, but more importantly, if we hadn’t gone on this adventure together then this series would never have been born. It might be my imagination that creates these worlds, but it is always your support that makes what I do possible.
To my wonderful publisher Hachette Australia for their passion, support and encouragement: working with you all (Fiona, Laura, Essie, Haylee) is a sheer joy.
To my wingwoman Kate Stevens for working so tirelessly to guide me through every story with your vision, compassion and professionalism. I want to grow old writing books with you.
To Anita, Keary, Jess and Lilliana, for always pushing me and helping me to the finish line even when it seems impossible. Your friendship, patience and smarts are what help govern my success; I cherish each and every one of you.
To my amazing family and friends for putting up with my lockdowns and never-ending deadlines, for constantly reminding me of things I tend to forget; you remind me to live and be balanced. Your love is the best anchor I could wish for.
To all the readers, bloggers, reviewers of my stories, for taking something away from my words and for loving and embracing the characters; for wanting to read Australian voices, no matter what city they may stand in.
And lastly, to London, who stole my heart and inspired me on one singular bus trip where I first had the idea for the ‘Heart of the City’ series. Everyone has a place away from home where they belong – London, you were that place for me.
READ ALL THREE
STANDALONE TITLES
IN C.J. DUGGAN’S
HEART OF THE CITY SERIES:
READ ON FOR A PREVIEW
Chapter One
I genuinely believe that aside from your place of birth there is somewhere else you belong: a place you’re guided to by your heart. Some people might spend their entire lives in search of such a place, but all my life, throughout my travels, I knew which place was waiting for me.
Paris.
I had fed my love of Paris by having the Eiffel Tower plastered on my bedspreads and cushion covers, by buying kitchen accessories and placemats with Rue Du Temple scrawled across them, and hanging a cute Bon Appetit sign in my kitchen. I’d tried to explain to my boyfriend, Liam, that it wasn’t really an obsession, I had just adopted a French Provincial style of decorating for our home. He seemed unconvinced.
Everyone wants to go to Paris. To fall in love, eat smelly French cheese and drink good local wine while toasting to the Eiffel Tower. It was more than just our home’s décor and my Chanel lipstick collection that strengthened my bond. Paris is the art capital of the world, with tourists flocking from near and far to catch a quick glimpse of Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa and wander the vast halls of the Louvre. But, while many people believed the Louvre to be the pinnacle of the Parisian art museum scene, there were so many other museums to see. With much excitement, I had rattled off the list of must-see locations to Liam as we’d planned this long-awaited weekend in Paris.
‘We could head to the Centre Pompidou, Paris’s bastion of modern art. We’ll need a good couple of hours to wander through all the amazing rooms with world-famous works of – oh my God, we’ll be able to see Picasso, Klimt, Miro and Kandinsky!’
Liam’s face had twisted in horror, and he’d said, ‘Claire, I would sooner claw my own face off than spend an entire weekend in art museums.’
I had laughed it off, but my heart sank knowing that he wouldn’t budge on this. I would have to settle for compromising on the art so we could both enjoy the trip.
Liam had insisted we save the Eiffel Tower until our last day in Paris. He’d said we shouldn’t conform to the typical tourist itinerary, that we should discover other parts of the city first. He was so smart, so romantic.
We battled the crowds at the Louvre for a date with Mona Lisa, strolled hand-in-hand through the Jardin de Tuileries, dodged pigeons and love-lock sellers near Notre Dame, and, of course, no trip to Paris would be complete without a visit to the famed M
oulin Rouge.
And this morning, stepping from the bus, our heads had craned upward, my mouth ajar as Liam clicked away on his expensive Canon camera, snapping the iron beast before us. Except it wasn’t a beast. The Eiffel Tower was a lady – strong, imposing, beautiful – but I couldn’t have said so to Liam. He would have just rolled his eyes.
We’d lingered around the edge of the crowds, taking it all in. It was incredible how something that stood still could evoke as much excitement as a themed rollercoaster at Disneyland. Hordes of tourists surrounded us in a blur of excitement and delight. Despite the wonders around me, though, my attention remained on Liam. I only had eyes for him.
I tilted my head, admiring my gorgeous boyfriend: his dark, unruly hair, his five o’clock shadow, his charcoal-grey jumper and dark jeans that made him look like he belonged here; a true Parisian. Liam had been acting strange for days. Twitchy, antsy, a bit snappy. As he stood beside me, rubbing his unshaven jaw, I could see the cogs turning in his head, no doubt wondering what to say, how to do it. He is such a stickler for details; it’s one of the things I love about him.
My chest expanded as I breathed deeply. I tried to hide the knowing smile that twisted the corner of my mouth. This is it; this is really going to happen. It was all clear to me now: the impromptu visit to Paris; saving the tower till last.
This is my moment.
Wait until everyone back home finds out about this.
I stood in the heart of the square and waited for Liam to speak. Waited for him to ask the big question, to go down on one knee in front of all these people, and ask me to be Mrs Liam Jackson.
My chest tightened as he turned to me. His focus was on me and me alone. In this moment, under the massive iron structure, the world around us didn’t matter. It was as if we were the only ones on the planet and that the tower had been built for us alone. I could feel my skin prickle despite the warm air that swept over us.
‘Claire.’ Liam swallowed nervously. I could feel my eyes watering as he reached out and grabbed my hand, a hand that had been nervously tapping my thigh.