The paramedic straightened up and shook his head. ‘Nah, don’t fret,’ he grinned. ‘Like you, knocked out.’
‘What happened?’ I croaked.
The paramedic scratched his head. ‘Well, from what the store manager told us, it was somethin’ to do with tripping over tin cans and—’
‘I remember now,’ I interrupted. ‘Aisle three. The overhead sign fell down.’
‘That’s not what the store manager said.’
I shook my head, and instantly felt a bit sick from the movement of doing so. My thoughts were muzzy, but something was nudging at the corners of my mind. A halfway place. A man. The former somewhere between Tesco and Heaven. The latter… a Bradley Cooper lookalike called… what was his name? Josh! His arms had been around me. I wanted to feel their reassurance again, and hear his voice telling me all was well… that I’d see him again. Concentrate, Hattie, concentrate. And then everything flooded back, including Josh’s words… what he’d first said when I’d found myself in such a strange and surreal place. ‘You might have thought that aisle three’s sign fell from the ceiling, but it didn’t. It was an illusion created to interrupt your life.’
‘I’m confused,’ I said to the paramedic. My mouth was dry, and my voice felt rusty. ‘So what did the store manager tell you?’
‘He said that some’ow some shelves of baked beans ’ad collapsed causin’ two people ter trip over the rollin’ tins an’ fall flat on their faces. Or ’eads, in this case. The pair of yer were knocked out cold. This one ’ere ain’t opened their eyes yet,’ said the paramedic, jerking his head at the stretcher-bed next to mine. ‘But don’t worry, they ain’t dead,’ he reassured me, seeing the horrified look on my face.
‘Will they be all right?’ I asked, trying to get a better look at the motionless lump.
‘Ah’m sure, don’t stress yerself, love. Nah, don’t sit up. Yer concussed – so that’s not a good idea.’
But I wasn’t listening. The paramedic had shifted slightly out of the way, enough for me to get a better look at the mound beside me. It was a man. And I’d seen him before… when I’d trundled past Tesco’s display of Valentine cards. My exit from the hateful aisle had been blocked by a lone figure trolleying towards me. My brain instantly replayed the scene of our brief encounter:
‘Excuse me,’ I said politely, trying to wheel my way around him. For a moment we trolley danced, going in the same direction and therefore unable to pass. We both laughed at the same time. The man took this as his cue to speak.
‘Trying to escape the Valentine aisle, eh?’ he grinned and tutted, and I saw his eyes quickly check out my ringless left hand.
‘Yes,’ I smiled, adopting a rueful expression. ‘As far as I’m concerned, this section of the supermarket is akin to hell on Earth.’
‘Ah, a woman who has been burned.’
‘Maybe,’ I replied. I was still smiling, but the smile had gone brittle around the edges.
‘Er, look,’ said the man hesitantly, a sudden shyness entering his tone. ‘I know I don’t know you or anything… and you might think I’m being outrageously forward, but… do you fancy having a coffee?’ He nodded his head at Tesco’s Costa corner, which, admittedly, was emitting delicious smells of ground coffee beans.
I stared at him in surprise. He was handsome. Very handsome. If my mother had been with me, she’d have physically dragged the pair of us over to the Costa corner and then whipped out her diary and asked when we both had a mutually convenient date to pop into Sidcup Registry office on the way home. But the last thing I needed was a gorgeous-looking stranger issuing an invitation for coffee. It might not lead to Sidcup Registry Office, but it could potentially lead to my heart being broken. And that was a no-no. I took a deep breath.
‘Thanks, but no thanks. I just—’ I shrugged helplessly. Hopelessly. ‘I can’t.’
And before the man could say another word, I’d put my head down, tucked my elbows in, and pushed my way out of the hateful aisle full of red roses and romance.
And now, here he was again. In this ambulance with me. But this time… this time we’d had the coffee together… and lots of other beverages too. Oh my God. It was him! My mind was clearing at the speed of light remembering rainbow drinks and tall glasses wafting steamy vapour that tasted of clouds. The incident in Tesco had been the universe’s final attempt to get my path to cross with true love. But I’d rejected it, and subsequently been whisked off to the Halfway Lounge. Ignoring my pounding head, I was instead responding to the pounding of my heart.
‘I don’t believe it!’ I cried.
‘Wha’?’ said the paramedic, looking alarmed at my shocked expression.
‘It’s Josh!’
‘Josh? Do yer know ’im?’
‘No.’
‘But yer just said ’is name.’
‘I recognise him.’
‘From where?’
‘The Halfway Lounge.’
‘Whass that then? A pub?’
‘No, it’s somewhere between here and Heaven.’
‘Heaven? Is that the new bar in Bexley’eath?’
But I wasn’t listening. The man was stirring.
‘My head,’ he groaned.
‘Yer okay, matey. Don’t move.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘Yer bin in a bit of an accident, but nothin’ ter fret about.’
A pair of very familiar hands were pulling an oxygen mask from his face. I gasped aloud as two piercing blue eyes met mine. Josh stared back at me, taking in my slack-jawed astonishment. I definitely hadn’t been dreaming. The Halfway Lounge was as real as this ambulance we were both riding in.
‘Do I know you?’ he asked, looking puzzled. ‘You seem awfully familiar.’
‘It’s Hattie,’ I whispered.
‘Hattie,’ he murmured, ‘what a lovely name.’
I gazed at him, trying to work out what was going on here. He didn’t recognise me, but had said I seemed familiar and questioned whether he knew me. My brain was whirring, trying to recall exactly what Josh had said in the Halfway Lounge.
‘I’ll see you again.’
‘When?’
‘When the time is right.’
I’d presumed Josh had meant we’d be reunited in death.
Suddenly the inside of the ambulance was filled with dazzling light. I screwed up my eyes for a moment and, as the brightness slightly subsided, saw the Josh I knew from the Halfway Lounge. He was standing there, drop-dead gorgeous in his familiar glowing jeans and shirt. My heart flipped with joy. He gave me his familiar blowtorch smile and blew a kiss, before moving over to stand behind the concussed physical extension of himself. A second later, and in a shimmer of light, he’d blended into the man beside me. I shook my head slightly, stunned by the strange series of events.
‘What’s up?’ Josh asked. ‘You look like you just saw a ghost!’
‘No,’ I said with a smile, silently adding, Just the rest of my life…
If The Man You Meet in Heaven had you cheering for Hattie and Josh, you will adore What Holly’s Husband Did – a laugh-out-loud romantic comedy with an absolutely incredible twist!
* * *
Get it here!
What Holly’s Husband Did
A feel-good romantic comedy with a twist that will make you gasp!
* * *
Holly Hart has been married for fifteen blissful years to hubby Alex. Well… if you don't count last Christmas, when she accidentally found a load of sexy texts on Alex's phone. But every marriage has its ups and downs and Alex had a perfectly reasonable explanation… so why can't Holly forget what she saw?
* * *
With the help of best friends Jeanie and Caro, as well as their handsome neighbour Jack, Holly resolves to settle her mind once and for all with a bit of sneaky detective work. So what if her husband isn't exactly Brad Pitt? He's hers, and if someone else is trying to steal him she wants to know who... But the truth is way more shocking than Holly ever anticipated.
Can Holly, let alone her marriage, ever recover from what she discovers?
* * *
A gorgeous romantic comedy from the bestselling author of Stockings and Cellulite. Perfect for fans of Tracy Bloom, Sophie Kinsella and Marian Keyes.
* * *
Note: Contains themes of sex and infidelity.
Debbie’s Email Sign Up
Want to keep up to date with Debbie’s latest releases? Sign up here!
* * *
We promise to never share your email with anyone else, and we’ll only contact you when there’s a new book out.
Also by Debbie Viggiano
The Man You Meet in Heaven
What Holly’s Husband Did
* * *
Stockings and Cellulite
Lipstick and Lies
Flings and Arrows
The Perfect Marriage
Secrets
The Corner Shop of Whispers
The Woman Who Knew Everything
Mixed Emotions ~ short stories
The Ex Factor (family drama)
Lily’s Pink Cloud ~ a child’s fairytale
100 ~ the Author’s experience of Chronic Myeloid Leukaemia
A letter from Debbie
I want to say a huge thank you for reading The Man You Meet in Heaven. If you enjoyed it, and want to keep up to date with all my latest releases, just sign up at the following link. Your email address will never be shared, and you can unsubscribe at any time.
* * *
Sign up here!
* * *
I find everything to do with the afterlife fascinating and have devoured many a book on the subject – from the good old Bible, ordinary folk claiming to have near-death experiences, the possibilities of reincarnation, to scientists talking about quantum physics and doctors giving medical explanations as to why some people find themselves purchasing a ticket for a return journey through the Tunnel of Light.
I have dedicated this book to my beloved Nanna, long since gone from this world, but who was a major light in my own life. She used to tell me fascinating tales of how she went ‘flying’ at night. My father used to roll his eyes and joke she’d had one gin too many. But whether her astral tales were true or not, I couldn’t get enough of them!
‘Where do you go at night, Nanna?’ I would ask, eyes round with wonder.
‘To see Mum,’ she’d reply, her tone matter-of-fact.
‘My great-grandmother?’
‘Yes,’ she’d nod. ‘It’s always good to catch up with her.’
‘Debs,’ my father would mutter under his breath, ‘take no notice.’
‘It’s beautiful over there,’ my Nanna would say, ignoring my father. ‘There are such incredible sights. Take the flowers, for example. Far more detailed and beautiful than those that grow here, with colours so vibrant I couldn’t even begin to describe them.’
I always took my Nanna’s stories with a pinch of salt. Until, as a young woman living with my first husband who was… how shall I put this?… a bit of a Lothario… my Nanna rang me up one Sunday morning.
‘Why were you on your own last night and crying?’ she’d asked.
For a moment I’d been too stunned to speak. I hadn’t told my family anything.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I’d blustered.
‘Yes you do, Debs,’ she’d insisted. ‘I visited you on the astral because I had a nagging worry that all wasn’t well. And I was right. You were in your bedroom, alone, sobbing your eyes out.’
At the time I’d been living in London digs which my Nanna had never visited. I asked her to describe my bedroom. Which she did. In perfect detail. Right down to the faded patchwork print on my Woolworths’ duvet cover. Coincidence? Who knows, but my Nanna was a very canny lady.
I don’t doubt that those memories of my Nanna’s tall tales have spent years whirling in my subconscious. The idea for The Man You Meet in Heaven came to me whilst in a deep sleep. The concept was enough to wake me up and have my arm making a cartoon-stretch in the dark as my fingers tiptoed towards my iPhone. With eyes screwed up against screen glare, I tapped out the story outline before emailing it off to myself to revisit in the morning. Writing a supernatural romance had seemed like such a good idea when the moon was hanging in the sky. In broad daylight, it didn’t present as quite so straightforward. It’s not easy to explain the unexplainable. In the end I didn’t try. This is a romance about two people who meet in a ‘somewhere place’ and ultimately get together. So whatever your beliefs, whether deeply religious, or completely agnostic, everything within these pages is pure fiction and not based on private beliefs, or any religion or any scientific theories. It’s purely the author’s imagination at work to weave a tale that suits the characters’ individual dramas.
The Man You Meet in Heaven is set in a Kent village – my own stomping ground – and features real places, including Vigo Village where the fog really does hang like a thick blanket throughout the winter months. Hattie’s dog, Buddy, is a male version of my own rescue pooch and has the same endearing charm and halitosis.
I hope you loved The Man You Meet in Heaven and, if so, would be very grateful if you would write a review. I’d be thrilled to hear what you think, and it makes such a difference helping new readers discover one of my books for the first time.
I always like hearing from my readers, so do look me up on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads or my blog or website.
* * *
With love,
Debbie
Acknowledgements
This is my tenth novel, and the second with the incredible Bookouture. I am deeply grateful to the whole team, but particularly the lovely Kathryn Taussig, Associate Publisher at Bookouture, for her endless support, encouragement and reassurance, not to mention hand-holding me through the edits (‘You want me to chop the entirety of that scene? Really? Argh!’). I do the writing, but Kathryn is the one who does the polishing to make every word shine. Likewise, I would like to thank Noelle Holten, Alexandra Holmes, Lauren Finger, Maisie Lawrence, and all the Bookouture authors for their assistance, friendship and amazing humour. We come together most days in a virtual place to laugh – and sometimes weep – but above all, support. A big thank you must also go to Yeti Lambregts for the wonderfully fun cover design, and Kim Nash, Bookouture’s Publicity and Social Media Manager, who somehow gets eight days into a week and surely must never sleep. Finally, I want to thank you, my reader. Without you, there is no book. I very much hope you enjoy this one.
Debbie xx
Published by Bookouture in 2018
* * *
An imprint of StoryFire Ltd.
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
* * *
www.bookouture.com
* * *
Copyright © Debbie Viggiano, 2018
* * *
eBook ISBN: 978-1-78681-585-9
* * *
Debbie Viggiano has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
* * *
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
; -moz-filter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share
The Man You Meet in Heaven: An absolutely feel-good romantic comedy Page 27