The Woman Who Wanted More

by Vicky Zimmerman

  I’ve always had a voracious appetite – for words, for food, for more. Now I have read and eaten everything I ever wanted to and I am ready for death, but recently I’ve come to believe that I will probably miss this life. It’s been a wonder and a glory.

  I can’t believe it’s over so quickly.

  Cecily

  What a debt of gratitude Kate owes this woman. Cecily gave Kate the courage to let go of the things that didn’t serve her, and the inspiration to pick up a pen and paper so she could start serving herself. All Kate can do to repay her is ensure that this book is the best she is capable of writing.

  Kate slips the note back into the envelope and rests it on her lap, then turns her gaze back to the bookshelves – so many books, so many stories. Ben’s offered to help pack and store them in his garage until Kate moves to her own place. She’ll do that once her own book is finally handed in, and one of the first things she’ll do after she’s settled in a new flat is head back to the pet care centre round the corner and find a kitten in need of a home.

  Male or female, that cat will be named Cecily because all cats are like Cecily – contrary, exquisitely stand-offish, fussy about food – and sometimes they pretend they don’t need you or love you even though they do.

  EPILOGUE

  It will never rain roses; when we want to have more roses, we must plant more roses.

  George Eliot

  Dinner For An Absent Friend

  Aim: to celebrate a wonderful friendship in absentia

  Scandinavian fish pâté served on lightly toasted challah, served with a cold white Montrachet

  Slow-roast shoulder of lamb with cumin, and rosemary for remembrance – served with a Rioja Reserva

  Toffee tart with milk chocolate ganache – served with Passito di Pantelleria dessert wine

  THE TABLE IS LAID WITH Kate’s new old china. The stylist on the book cover shoot had found some fantastic 1950s dinnerware, and while he claimed the plates had cost a small fortune he’d eventually sold them to Kate for a price that was affordable. They’re not perfect – there are a couple of small chips, and five plates are cobalt blue, the other three teal – but Kate feels a small thrill every time she sees their beauty. There are seven places laid, though there’ll only be six sitting down to eat – Kate, Bailey and Adam, Rita and Patrick, and Ben.

  Cecily had once told Kate about the ritual of the traditional Jewish Passover supper, where a place is laid and a glass filled for the prophet Elijah in case he comes to call. Kate had asked if it was the equivalent of leaving mince pies for Santa’s reindeer, and had received a withering look in response.

  Kate’s not sure whether Cecily would approve but she’s laid a place for her anyway, and filled her glass, half-full, with vintage champagne. (That’s one of the many bonuses of having Ben in her life – excellent wine, all the time.) This is a dinner to celebrate the book being published – how could Kate not pour a glass for Cecily?

  It has been nine months since Cecily’s death, and not a day goes by that Kate doesn’t remember her. Kate cannot imagine what her life would be like if she’d never met Cecily – or rather, she doesn’t want to imagine. She’d still be at Fletchers; chances are she’d be giving Nick his fifth chance by now, still making excuses for him, still allowing him to disappoint her.

  Kate sits and takes a sip of champagne then gently taps her glass against Cecily’s. Her stomach emits a low rumble. The lamb has been slow-cooking in the oven for hours and has filled the flat with the aroma of comfort, of spices and of home.

  She jumps as she feels feline Cecily curl himself around her ankles. She reaches down and scoops him onto her lap. Cecily the kitten is now five months old. When Kate rescued him he was a tiny, blue-eyed ball of black fluff; now he’s a slightly bigger, adorable, food-obsessed companion who hasn’t objected to having a girl’s name and who is far friendlier than his namesake. She tickles the kitten’s ear, then carries him through to his play area in the bedroom.

  She checks her watch – it’s nearly eight o’clock, her guests are due any minute. She heads to the kitchen and takes the fresh bread from its bag and cuts six generous slices. She takes a lemon from the fruit bowl. The guy at her new local farmers’ market claimed these Amalfi lemons are the greatest in the world. He probably bought them from Asda, but he was so charming Kate bought half a dozen anyway. She grates a final sprinkling of zest – a burst of freshness to sprinkle over the lamb. In the fridge the chocolate ganache is still setting over the toffee cream. Kate has to stop herself dipping her fingertip in, it looks so perfectly delicious.

  Kate sits back down at the table and takes another sip of champagne. Her life has definitely not turned out according to plan, but then again, whose ever does? She is forty-one, she rents a tiny flat below another flat that has wooden floors and a flat-footed wannabe opera singer as a tenant. Kate’s plates don’t match, and she doesn’t care. She has unshakeable friendships and her life has meaning. She has everything she needs for today.

  She checks the place settings one last time and straightens Cecily’s glass. There are sounds of life from outside the front door and a moment later the bell rings. Kate heads to the hallway to welcome in her guests.

  There’s a time to be sad and a time to be thankful – but right now it’s time to eat.

  A Note from the Author

  The character of Cecily Finn was inspired by a real woman named Cecily Finn, who in the 1950s wrote the cookery book Thought for Food, with her good friend Joan O’Connor. Certain extracts from Thought for Food appear in their original format, others have been edited, some I have made up entirely.

  Much like Cecily I have taken huge artistic licence in the telling of my tale – freely mixing truth and fiction. However, the following are facts:

  Cecily Finn was born in 1904, in the East End of London, to Joseph and Eva Finn, who ran an ice cream and sweet shop in Forest Gate. The youngest of three, she was bright – winning a scholarship to West Ham High, then one to Saffron Walden teacher training college. Her father gave her a hard time about being an ‘old maid’ in her twenties, and it was Joseph who introduced her to a recently arrived young Polish émigré, Solomon, who became her husband (an engagement secured after a mere six weeks.)

  Solomon, known to friends as Zimmy, was the seventh child of Leon and Shindel who were from Galicia, Poland. After Cecily and Zimmy married, they spent most of the 1930s travelling in Europe. They were parted during the Second World War for three years, during which time Cecily lived with her parents in Bournemouth, and Zimmy, based in Stockholm, worked for Allied Intelligence. She eventually joined him in Sweden, flying out on a bomber plane in order to do so. The majority of Zimmy’s family refused to leave Poland in the late 1930s, despite his best attempts to convince them they weren’t safe. During the war his parents, three of his siblings and all their children were transported by the Nazis to Auschwitz, where they were killed.

  Cecily’s father died during the war, and shortly after Cecily and Zimmy returned to England, so did her mother. Along with Thought for Food, Cecily authored a children’s book, Tell Me Again (also published in Sweden) and various radio plays and two films, The Man Who Liked Funerals and The Crowning Touch. She was also a travel, fashion and food journalist, and in later life was heavily involved in charity work, and did indeed have tea with Ingrid Bergman.

  But this is where fact and fiction diverge, because Cecily and Zimmy did have a child, a son, Jeremy, who is my father. Cecily and Zimmy remained happily married for 53 years. My grandpa died in 1987; Grandma survived him by nearly two decades. She died peacefully in her sleep, at home, at the age of 100, shortly after welcoming her first great-granddaughter into the world (and receiving a birthday card from the Queen).

  Unlike the eponymous Cecily, in real life Cecily was good-natured, though she did complain of boredom, a lot. She adored art, food and books, and always encouraged me to write. This is not the first time she has featured in a work of fiction. Prior to The Woma
n Who Wanted More, I published four novels under the pseudonym Stella Newman. In my first, the bestseller Pear Shaped, the heroine’s grandmother is based on Cecily. I suspect she’d have been pleased about that, and even more pleased to be taking centre stage now.

  I was privileged to have her as a grandmother.

  Acknowledgements

  This book would not exist without the support of so many.

  Thank you first to Felicia Richardson, Joan O’Connor’s daughter, for letting me use Joan and Cecily’s words so liberally. It was such fun working with their text; I wish they were here to read the end result.

  When I was writing the Stella Newman novels, my sister would accuse me of pretending to ‘research’ when all I was doing was eating. (Those four books are full of food.) Actually I do research – a bit – so thank you Elizabeth Watkins, Anita Morgan, and all the incredible staff and residents at the Mary Feilding Guild – spending time with you was a privilege. Thank you to Phil McCreery and Keoni Kailimai for advice on all things Hawaiian.

  Thank you to my amazing agent Victoria Hobbs, for your immeasurable patience and hard work, and to Jo Thompson for your insightful feedback.

  The fabulous team at Bonnier have been fundamental in making this book happen. To Eli Dryden, Sarah Bauer, Margaret Stead, Katie Lumsden, Ruth Logan, Alexandra Allden, Clare Kelly, Ellen Turner, Sahina Bibi, Stephen Dumughn, Felice McKeown, Nico Poilblanc, James Horobin, Vincent Kelleher, Victoria Hart, Angie Willocks, Carrie-Ann Pitt, Jamie Turner, Isabella Hannah and Kate Parkin – I am exceptionally grateful for all your hard work, talents and enthusiasm.

  I’m indebted to Write Club, a superb group of published and soon-to-be-published writers, for constructive feedback and constructive wine: Irena Brignull, Kathryn Arbour, Courtney Clelland, Tash Bell, Jess Kimmel and Camilla Hill.

  To Mum and Dad, H, Giles, Cookie – thank you, sorry, I love you. To Tabby and Frannie – you are magnificent young women. You fill my heart with delight.

  Above all this book is about the power of friendship. I’m incredibly fortunate to have had so many exceptional people to hold my hand during the last few suboptimal years. Thanks in particular to the following – your love is a gift:

  Alexia Da Silva – your grace and courage are exemplary.

  Ali Bailey – the woman I want to be when I grow up.

  Andrew Hart – thirty years of loyal friendship, surely you’re due a sabbatical?

  Ann Farragher – my sunshine.

  Anna Potts – for cat therapy.

  Dalia Bloom – for forgivenesss.

  Debbi Adler – for curry and understanding, and understanding curry.

  Ed McDonnell – dear, beautiful man.

  Felicity Spector – for so many fabulous nights out.

  Graeme Dunn – for maxillofacial A&E rescue and that extraordinary walk in the park.

  Hannah Gladstone-Bacon – for the Sainsbury’s late-night top comedy moment of all time, for being a magical, glittery friend and a daily, sometimes hourly, inspiration.

  Heather Ingram – noodle twin, for unparalleled generosity and thoughtfulness.

  Isabelle Broom – for so much, not least finding awesome nicknames for un-awesome individuals.

  Jenny Knight – super talented writer, you are the best.

  Jill Halfpenny – your fortitude and gentleness astound me.

  Kathryn Finlay – the best mother-in-law I never had.

  Madeleine Muir – life-saver, for so much support.

  Michelle Gross – gelato partner extraordinaire, I’m so proud of you.

  Philip Thompson – for dancing like no one was watching, even though everyone was.

  Rachael Lloyd – for making me laugh all the time, particularly when it’s wildly inappropriate.

  Samantha Matern – Guru – for helping me choose better stories.

  Sarah Birkett – my hilarious spirit animal, for reminding me, repeatedly, not to sell myself short – sorry it took a while to sink in.

  Steve Beale – quality mate.

  Toby Finlay – for keeping me company in Cali, and your endearing attempts to turn me into a better writer.

  *

  This book starts with a dedication to Matt Janes, and it will end with one too. Matt was my dear friend for more than twenty years. He was creative, wise, generous, courageous, and the most fun you could have at any party. He encouraged me to be braver and kinder, to live life better. He introduced me to so many joys in this world. The debt I owe him is immense.

  Matt died very suddenly, at the age of forty-three, in his local gym. If they’d had a defibrillator he might have survived. If you belong to a gym with no defibrillator, please ask if they’ll consider getting one.

  I miss Matt every day. He has left a giant hole in many people’s lives. How lucky I was to have shared such a long, rich and meaningful friendship with him.

  His memory is a blessing.

  About the Author

  Vicky Zimmerman lives in London. She worked in advertising and as a food tester at a major UK supermarket before leaving to write full-time. She has written four novels under the name Stella Newman, as well as writing for publications including the Guardian and the Observer. She’s a passionate foodie, and when not writing enjoys talking about food, cooking it and eating it.

  Also by Vicky Zimmerman writing as Stella Newman

  Pear Shaped

  The Happiness Recipe

  The Foodies Guide to Falling in Love

  Seven Steps To Happiness

  Turn over for photographs from the author of the amazing woman who inspired this novel

  Cecily Finn as a young girl in East London, c. 1908

  Cecily and Zimmy on their wedding day

  Cecily in the prime of her life

  Cecily with her husband, son, daughter-in law and grandchildren, as well as the author’s other much-loved grandmother, Esther Shavin, 1978. Author – the short one to the right of Cecily

  Cecily on her 100th birthday, holding her first great-granddaughter, Tabby, who is two weeks old. Cecily died a few weeks later, peacefully, in her bed

  First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Zaffre

  This ebook edition published in 2019 by

  ZAFFRE

  80–81 Wimpole St, London, W1G 9RE

  Copyright © Vicky Zimmerman, 2019

  Cover design by Alexandra Allden.

  Biscuit by Biscuiteers Ltd. Cover photography by Johnny Ring.

  The moral right of Vicky Zimmerman to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events 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.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN: 978–1–78576–533–9

  Paperback ISBN: 978–1–78576–532–2

  This ebook was produced by IDSUK (Data Connection) Ltd

  Zaffre is an imprint of Bonnier Books UK

  www.bonnierbooks.co.uk