Thank you to Victoria Parrin, Rachel Kittow and Kelly Clarke from Anglia Ruskin University. I wish I could go back in time and study English Lit with you – I’d join your Literary Society in a flash. Thank you also to Dr Colette Paul for putting me in touch with these three fantastic students. (NB: when Alice went to Anglia Ruskin, it was still called APU, but I’ve used Anglia Ruskin to avoid confusion.)
Thank you to the very kind Geoff Morley for showing me around Bridget’s and Nightingale Halls and for his brilliant recollections of student life there. I wish there had been room in the book for maintenance man Clive and his legendary spooky stories!
And immense gratitude to He Who Shall Not Be Named for his assistance with Lukas’s research. You risked the mirth of your colleagues (I still giggle every time I remember you saying you’d ‘never live it down’), but you helped me more than you know and I sincerely appreciate it.
Huge thanks to Katherine Reid for the proofreading – I will be roping you in for years to come, whether you like it or not.
Cheers to Sarah Bailey and Tim Snelle (from Cambridge Chauffeur Punts) for their punting advice, and thank you to their son ‘Baby Jack’ for entertaining Idha when my deadline was looming. Thank you also to the punters at Scudamores, and to Mille Rytter and Annabel Diggle.
Thank you to my sister-in-law Gretta Ford for her teaching guidance, to Karl Molden for his physics feedback (and Matthew Ford for putting me in touch with him!), to Heat’s film editor, Charles Gant, for the agent-related advice, to fellow S&S author Ali Harris for her support, friendship and the many, many cups of tea, to Vickie Robertson for introducing me to kingmaker all those years ago, to Chenoa Powell for the idea about ‘the brother’, and also to Wendy, Becky and Sarah for keeping me topped up with tea while I’ve been beavering away at ‘my’ table in the corner.
Thanks also to my friend Lucy Branch and her son Finn for inspiring the ‘China’ punting story. (Oh, and you’re quite right, Lucy, I do think the bronze in the Guildhall could do with a bit of a polish. . .!)
On a more sombre note, the character of Lizzy was originally called Katy, but I renamed her in memory of my friend Helen’s sister Elizabeth ‘Lizzy’ Angell, who passed away tragically and unexpectedly at the end of 2011. My Lizzy bears no resemblance to Lizzy Angell – she was one in seven billion and I would never attempt to recreate her in print – but she liked my books and we think she would have appreciated the sentiment.
Thank you, always, to my parents, Vern and Jenny Schuppan, and my parents-in-law Ian and Helga Toon. It’s been a full-on year, and I couldn’t have met the earlier deadline for this book without your help, especially Mum’s.
And, of course, thank you to my husband, Greg, my son, Indy and my daughter, Idha. I love you all to bits.
Please read on for a taster of Paige Toon’s wonderful summer read
‘Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday, dear Barney,
Happy birthday to you.’
I’m singing this very quietly so as not to wake him. He’s had a busy day with his nanny, grandad and me, and now he’s crashed out in his cot. He’s going to grow out of it soon. I can’t believe my baby has just turned one. It’s frightening how time flies.
Bit of a bummer that his daddy wasn’t here today. I say that flippantly, but inside I’m not happy. Not happy at all. Then, suddenly, I’m fine again. It’s the guilt. It balances out the anger. I can’t stay cross with Christian for long. That word: ‘Daddy’. It’s a lie. I’m a liar. And I hate myself for it.
I can hear my parents clattering away in the bathroom next door. They’ll be in bed soon, and then I’ll have the living room to myself. I’m getting the urge again. My head is prickling with the thought of it. It will be the first time I’ve done it in six months. The last time was when Christian and I had a big fight. That was before I knew. Before I knew for sure. But I’d suspected it for a long time.
Oh, Christian . . . What have I done?
One year and nine months ago, I had sex with my boyfriend’s best friend. It sounds horrendous when you say it like that. Don’t get me wrong, it is horrendous. But there was a history there. I was in love with Johnny. I was in love with him first.
I look back once more to my sleeping baby, who is no longer a baby. I lean over his cot and kiss him softly on his forehead as tears fill my eyes.
I’m so sorry, my darling. I don’t know what to do.
If I told Christian now and he threw us out, as of course he would, how would my son be affected? Would he remember the person who was his father for the first year of his life? Christian is away such a lot at the moment that we’re almost getting used to life without him. Maybe it wouldn’t be such an upheaval. Maybe it would be okay. Oh, who am I kidding?
I think my parents have finally retired to bed. I get up and quietly walk out of my bedroom into the living room. My laptop screen is dark, the screensaver having switched itself off hours ago. I take a seat on the sofa and pull the computer onto my lap. My head is prickling again. I shouldn’t be doing this.
‘I thought you were in bed?’
I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of my mum’s voice.
‘You frightened me!’
‘Sorry, I wanted a glass of water.’
I quickly push down the laptop lid and put the computer back on the side-table, the urge momentarily quashed. ‘I was just checking my emails,’ I lie as I get up and join my mum in the kitchen.
‘Can’t you do that in the morning?’ she asks, pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge. ‘You’ve had a busy day,’ she adds.
‘I know, I know,’ I brush her off, not enjoying being told what to do, especially now that I’m a responsible parent myself. Allegedly.
‘Have you spoken to Christian?’ she asks as she decants water into a tumbler.
‘No, I haven’t called him back yet,’ I admit.
‘Don’t you think you should? I’m sure he’d like to know about Barney’s birthday.’
I bite my tongue and take the bottle from her, pouring a drink for myself. ‘I will,’ I reply shortly.
‘Good,’ she says annoyingly.
I follow her out of the kitchen and switch off all the lights, taking one last look at my laptop sitting silently on the side-table in the living room.
You’ll keep . . .
I follow my mum down the corridor to the bedrooms. She and Dad are sleeping in Barney’s room to the left of the bathroom, while he and his cot have been temporarily relocated into my bedroom on the right.
‘Night, night.’ Mum turns back to give me a peck on the cheek.
‘Night,’ I reply, and go into my bedroom.
I shut the door and take a deep breath before exhaling as quietly as I can. My iPhone is charging on my bedside table. I see that there’s another message from Christian:
Boarding now. Will ring when I land
I feel bad. I should have called him earlier. I’m surprised to discover I’m looking forward to seeing him.
Why am I surprised? He’s my boyfriend. I love him.
I know why: it’s the guilt. It’s poisonous. And deep down I know that it’s going to be the death of our little family.
Table of Contents
When I Was Eighteen
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
Six Months Later
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
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Seventeen Months Later
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Three and a Half Years Later
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Epilogue
Paige Toon, One Perfect Summer
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