by Kim Nash
Sunshine and Second Chances
A heart-warming, feel-good summer read about friendship, love and second chances
Kim Nash
Books by Kim Nash
Amazing Grace
Escape to Giddywell Grange
Sunshine and Second Chances
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Books by Kim Nash
A Letter from Kim
Amazing Grace
Escape to Giddywell Grange
Acknowledgements
Prologue
‘Super, thanks so much. Can’t wait!’
Olivia ended the call, threw down the phone on the sofa behind her and took a deep breath. There was no turning back now.
She’d been dreaming about this moment for so long; never sure if it would happen. But now it really was. It wouldn’t be long before they were all back together.
Apprehensive, but excited, she knew she’d have some time to herself and some space to work out what the future held for her. Only four weeks to wait till the big day.
One
‘Will you get a bloody move on. For God’s sake!’
‘Coming, Mum!’ Seb ambled down the stairs, not a rush in him.
‘Sebastian! Hurry up! It’s your football training that we’re going to, not mine. Do you think for once in your life, you can get ready without all this last-minute dashing around? Have you got your water bottle?’ She knew he hadn’t because she’d seen it on his bedside table when she went in to wake him up and he didn’t have it in his hand.
‘Where are my football boots, Mum?’ He scratched his head and frowned.
‘I don’t know, Seb, they’re your boots not mine.’
Spectacularly rolling his eyes, Sebastian huffed as he turned back towards his room at a snail’s pace. Olivia was getting more stressed by the minute. Once again they were going to be late through no fault of her own. Everything seemed such a rush these days, and she wanted some calm in her life. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask for.
She’d spent the last fifteen minutes, on and off, yelling up the stairs to her younger son, telling him he had to get his kit on, which she’d already laid out on his bed to make life easier for him. He kept saying he was, but then when she went to give him a final call and tell him they were going to be late – she had to go up because he wasn’t answering her – he was still sitting in his pants playing on his Xbox because he was ‘just finishing his game’. She loved him with all her heart, but he was so infuriating at times.
Talking of infuriating, while she was waiting downstairs, her elder son, James, wandered in from the kitchen, his dressing gown half on and half off, still half asleep, eating a piece of toast and dropping crumbs all over the hall floor. Olivia sighed. Why couldn’t he just get a plate? These boys would be the death of her, they really would.
She closed her eyes and counted to three and smiled. ‘We’ll be back after football, so we’ll only be gone a few hours, darling.’
‘Take a chill pill, Mum. I’ll be fine. I’m fourteen, I’m practically an adult.’
Only when it suits you, Olivia thought to herself. Most of the time he acted very much like a child still.
‘Wait for me, darling!’ came a yell from the kitchen, followed by her husband, George, clattering into the hall dragging his golf clubs behind him. ‘You can drop me off at the club on the way. Then I can have a few beers with the boys when I’ve finished, and I’ll call you when I’m ready to be picked up.’
No would you mind? No please. It was just expected of her. Plus diverting to the golf club was going to make them even later.
‘Oh and by the way, the dog has done a really runny poo on the kitchen floor. Not sure what you’ve been feeding him. That’ll need clearing up, darling.’
Olivia could have cried. Another job that had been left to her. If she stopped to do it now there would be no point going out because they’d miss the game, so right now she needed to get them out of the house. She’d have to clear up the mess when she got back. She slammed the front door behind her and stomped the fifteen or so paces to the car – as much as a gravel drive allowed you to stomp when you were wearing heels.
The engine of the week-old Jaguar four-wheel drive roared into life and she revved it a few times, trying to attract the attention of the various members of her family. But much to her annoyance, and after yet another couple of minutes, Seb sauntered out in his socks with his football boots in his hands. As he jumped in the back of the car she turned around to make sure he was belted in. His beautiful blue eyes and angelic ten-year-old face smiled at her, a smile that lit up his face, and the corners of her lips twitched.
George then ambled out, the phone to his ear, barking instructions to who she presumed was his secretary, Cynthia. Poor woman, she had Olivia’s every sympathy having to pander to George’s whims every day. That was why Olivia bought her a relaxing spa day for her Christmas present every year. No one deserved it more. George threw her new Mulberry handbag, which had been sitting on the passenger seat, onto the floor and she used her counting-to-three tactic for the umpteenth time that morning, before she put the car into gear and drove out through the remote-control gates towards the main road.
She glanced back in the wing mirrors, at their gorgeous barn conversion, and thought that she should probably be more grateful, and feel lucky for what she had. But she had never felt more exhausted and worn down in her life.
Once she’d dropped George at the golf club and Seb at football training, while she knew she should probably be dashing round Waitrose with a shopping trolley, she instead went to the nearest coffee shop and sank into a big squishy armchair with a huge caramel latte and a lemon muffin and gave a sigh of relief. She couldn’t wait for the break in Portugal with the girls. She loved her family dearly, but they were so demanding and needy, and she really was reaching the end of her tether.
Motherhood was the best job in the world at times, giving the most amazing rewards, and the love she felt for her family was sometimes overwhelming. But oh boy, did it drive her bonkers too. For once in their lives they were going to have to man up and cope without her.
Two
Samantha was doing her best to keep busy since he’d gone, but she was struggling with it all, to be honest. She’d never felt as alone as she did right now. There was a void that she didn’t think she’d ever be able to fill. She knew it was still early days and that she had a huge adjustment to make in her life, and that she’d get through it, but it was definitely going to take some getting used to.
It was the quietness she couldn’t bear. Their house used to be full of life, with a steady flow of friends coming and going, and she was always busy keeping them supplied with food and drink. It was a total contrast to the complete silence of now and that made her feel so sad. And so lonesome.
Minutes seemed like hours and there were times when she could go
for days without seeing anyone. Over the years, her friends had dwindled away, she’d never really needed anyone else apart from her small but perfectly formed family, who she loved and wanted to spend her time making happy. But now everything had changed. She had a huge gaping hole in her heart and she had no idea how to fill it.
She flicked on the iron in the spare room. She had to do something to keep herself busy before she drove herself insane, so she decided she may as well iron the few clothes that were sitting in the laundry basket.
Coming across a top of Peter’s, she pulled it close to her nose, inhaling his scent, which was still evident even though the shirt had been washed. Opening the door of his bedroom, the smell of teenage boy hit her, a mix of musky deodorant, food and stinky old trainers, and she flung open the window. It didn’t matter how long he’d been gone, it still smelt the same. How did boys manage to do that?
While she wanted to freshen up the room, she never wanted to forget that smell. Her darling boy.
She popped the T-shirt in the top drawer of the tallboy in the corner and, as she turned, caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror. Lank-looking hair with roots that desperately needed some attention, tied back in a bobble, a face free of make-up – because what was the point if she never saw anyone? – and a tatty old T-shirt and leggings. Her shoulders slumped. She looked and felt grey and miserable. She had never felt more down in the mouth.
She knew that she had needed a kick up the backside to kick-start her life for a long while, and even though some of her was dreading it, perhaps a holiday in the sun, with the love of her friends and some laughter therapy, was just what she needed. A bit of a tan on her body, some warmth on her skin, and she might be able to recharge her very depleted batteries. Perhaps then she’d feel a little more like the Samantha of the past. That Samantha had been full of fun and ambition and hope for the future, before the devastating events of her life had worn her down. Perhaps it was time that the Samantha of old made a reappearance.
Remembering that she’d put some holiday clothes away a couple of years ago, she opened the loft hatch on the landing and pulled down the ladder. She tentatively climbed up – it was the first time she’d ever done it without someone holding the bottom – and feeling both brave and vulnerable, she felt around for the light switch to the right of the hatch. Ah, there it was.
Treading carefully on the joists, she spied the purple flowery case she was looking for hidden behind a chest. She opened it up and smiled when she saw clothes she’d not seen in years, each item holding different memories. Some really needed to go to the charity shop, but there were others that would be perfect for a few days away in the sun.
Thinking about the holiday made her feel anxious. It had been years since she’d seen the girls properly. They’d kept in touch for a long while, seen each other a few times, but had drifted off as their lives took different directions and they’d moved to various parts of the country.
While they didn’t live a million miles from each other, they were far enough away that a real effort had to be made to meet up. It wasn’t like they could nip out for a coffee every now and again, as they might have done had they have lived closer.
Trust Olivia to remember that stupid bloody pact they’d made on that holiday when they were celebrating their twenty-first birthday year: that they would get together when they had all either hit, or were about to hit, the big FIVE ZERO!
How the hell had she become fifty? Life had flown by and it was weird being this age because you were kind of over halfway through your life. What a depressing thought. Especially now that she was entirely on her own. Just lately, she’d been feeling like her life was over already. This was not the way her younger self would have imagined her being at this age.
Her phone pinged and her heart leapt as she checked her messages, but it was only the local butcher letting her know what offers were on that week. Her heart sank deeper than before. It had been an hour since she’d sent the text but there had been no response. This wasn’t unusual but it was annoying. It was Saturday so he should be around. She’d managed to get herself worked up into a real state before she sent the text, trying to be chatty and casual, not too needy, but she did need answers to settle her mind. She’d read and rewritten it three times before she was happy with what she’d sent, but still nothing had come back. It would probably be hours before there was a response. Even days. That had happened before too.
She really needed to get a life and stop dwelling on things and vowed to make the most of the week in Portugal. This holiday could be a huge turning point in her life, but only if she let it be.
Three
Well, when there are two egg custards in the pack, and you live alone, surely they expect you to eat them both, thought Debs to herself as she crammed the last bit of the second one in her mouth.
Feeling way too full, and undoing the button on her jeans, she wished now that she’d put on her joggers. Who even invented joggers, anyway? Ironically, those who jogged didn’t bloody need elasticated-waisted trousers.
She felt so guilty for what she’d done, and what she seemed to be doing a lot lately, but it was almost as if food had become an obsession with her. She knew that she was overweight, and really wanted to do something about it, yet didn’t seem able, even though her doctor had warned her that she was in a health danger zone. It was almost as if because she was bigger now than she’d ever been and because she believed she’d never be able to put it right, she just ate what she wanted and thought, what the hell to the consequences. Sometimes, even when she felt so full after she’d eaten something, determined not to leave a morsel, it was almost as if she was testing her body to see just how far she could go before something drastic happened.
She’d felt so bad about herself since Dave left. He’d said that she’d let herself go and had put on a ton of weight, and wasn’t the same woman that he had married fifteen years ago. In fairness, he hadn’t been bald with a cauliflower ear, smelly feet and a beer belly when she’d met him, so it wasn’t only she who was guilty of changing. But one evening he’d sat her down and told her that he didn’t love her any more, and that he had been spending time with someone else and fallen in love. Debs’ jaw had dropped to the floor when he’d revealed that it was Penny from three doors down. The fact that he now lived there had devastated her. She’d known Penny since she’d moved into their close a couple of years earlier and had always thought she was really nice. They’d even been in each other’s houses for coffee during that time. She’d thought they were friends. Some friend she turned out to be.
Debs was really hit hard when she’d bumped into them last week in Tesco. It was typical that her trolley was full of cakes, bread and chocolate, and theirs was full of salad, fruit and vegetables. Dave just looked in her trolley and tutted at her, and Penny – who the girls on a Skype call one night had nicknamed Perfect Fucking Penny or PFP for short – smiled sweetly and swung her perfect blonde-highlighted ponytail in the opposite direction and sashayed off down the aisle.
Debs had stared at her peachy, tiny backside in tight multi-coloured leggings and couldn’t help but admire her flat stomach and six pack which were clearly visible in the vest top she was wearing as she reached on tiptoe to grab something from the top shelf. Debs realised that her own figure hadn’t looked like that since she’d been about twelve.
She’d wrapped her baggy grey cardigan further around her body and her cheeks had burned, and she’d wished she’d made more of an effort that morning instead of grabbing the nearest pair of jeans and a tatty T-shirt, completing the outfit with a big comfy cardigan that you should really only ever wear when you are stopping in on your own. She found it hard to look her soon-to-be ex-husband in the eye.
‘We’ve just come from the gym,’ Dave had explained.
No shit, Sherlock, she’d thought as she’d looked at his outfit of shorts, T-shirt and bright white trainers. Debs had wondered how PFP didn’t seem to have a bead of sweat on her, y
et Dave looked like he’d been working in the garden all day, sweaty and red faced. How did he ever pull her? He was definitely punching way above his weight, although he looked as if he’d shifted a few pounds recently, even though his belly was still hanging over the top of his shorts.
‘Come on, David darling, time to go,’ PFP had trilled from the egg aisle. ‘We’ve got to have an energy snack for lunch before we go to Zumba later. Bye, Deborah. Good to see you.’
Dave had muttered goodbye under his breath as he’d panted off down the aisle after her. Cheeky bitch, how dare she even speak to her.
Debs had gone over to the bakery section after that, eyeing up the cream cakes on display in the fridge – ninety-nine pence each or three for two pounds. It was a no brainer, she thought as she threw three into her basket. They’d do for pudding later. If she couldn’t eat them all, she could have one for breakfast tomorrow.
As she’d walked along the clothing aisle, she’d picked up a pretty blue-and-yellow maxi dress that had caught her eye. She knew that most of her current clothes weren’t going to fit her for the upcoming trip to Portugal and that it was probably better to go a size up, again, than spoil the holiday by being pissed off with herself because she couldn’t fit into anything. It wasn’t the normal sort of thing that she would wear but it was really pretty. She held it up against her body and looked in the mirror.