Five Years From Now

  My heart is in shreds.

  ‘You have to be really careful with the road,’ we hear Luke warning Libby as we climb out of the car. He pulls the gate closed after her, even though we’re only a few paces behind. I’m going to drive Van and Libby up to the village to the holiday home they’re renting, but it’s not ready yet so we’ve got time to kill.

  The front door opens and Danny tears out, crashing into Luke, who laughs and promptly scoops him up into a bear hug.

  Beside me, Van’s breath catches.

  Danny spies me over his big brother’s shoulder, his huge brown eyes widening further and his arms stretching in my direction. Luke passes him over and, as his small body aligns with mine, the tatters currently blowing wild against the walls of my chest slowly begin to lace back together again.

  ‘This is Van,’ I say to my son, swivelling so they’re facing each other. ‘And this is Daniel.’

  ‘Hello, buddy,’ Van replies in a sweet voice. ‘Nice to meet you in person at last.’

  If he’s been feeling as anxious as I have, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. But then he tenses, staring past my shoulder, and I turn to see Ed emerging from the cottage with our sleepy almost-three-year-old in his arms.

  Ivy Ruth Allister.

  I asked Van for his blessing before we christened our daughter with his mother’s middle name. Daniel has my father’s: Geoffrey.

  ‘Hey!’ Ed calls as Ivy makes predictable noises of dissent. She gets so jealous of Danny, but her brother, at four and a half, would give her the world if he could. Right now, he’s content simply to give her me, so he wriggles to get down so I can take her. Ed and Van greet each other warmly and then Van returns to say a proper hello to the little girl he has, until now, only met on FaceTime.

  ‘Hello, cutie,’ he says, as Ivy clutches my shoulders with her tiny hands, clinging on to me like a baby koala.

  ‘Can you say hello to Van?’ I prompt, pressing a kiss to her squashy cheek.

  ‘Hello,’ she obeys with a toothy grin.

  ‘She looks like you,’ he comments, straightening up and meeting my eyes.

  ‘That’s what they say,’ I reply nervily, pushing Ivy’s fine blonde hair away from her face. Danny has Ed’s colouring.

  Voices come from inside the annexe – Luke is giving Libby a tour, from the sounds of it.

  Van walks over and runs his hand along the top of the wire fence – it reaches his waist. ‘This makes life easier, I bet.’

  ‘Yeah, even if it does spoil the view a bit,’ Ed replies with a grin, succumbing to his young son’s request to pick him up. ‘We still manage a fair bit of hill rolling, though, don’t we, Danny?’

  Danny nods eagerly.

  I hold Ivy close as we go inside. She’s like a shield, protecting my fragile heart.

  ‘Mind if I use the bathroom?’ Van asks.

  ‘Go for it. You know where it is,’ Ed calls over his shoulder.

  Ed turns to me once we’re in the kitchen, his expression full of compassion as he opens his arm wide. I step into his embrace. Danny is still in his other arm and I, in turn, have Ivy balanced on my hip. He kisses my forehead and tears prick my eyes as I bury my face against his warm neck and breathe him in. Our two children start giggling and I lift my head to see them sticking their tongues out at each other.

  My heart expands with love and the same emotion is reflected in my husband’s eyes as we smile at each other.

  All of those moments… Our children’s first laughs, their first steps, birthdays, Christmases, anniversaries… So many happy moments that we’ve shared.

  I stand on my tiptoes and kiss Ed’s lips, the storm inside me settling to a beautiful calm as he tenderly returns the gesture.

  How can I regret this?

  I can’t.

  I don’t.

  When Van went home eight years ago after his last visit to Cornwall, I was a mess. Ed didn’t seem to know what to do with me. In later years, he confessed how much it had hurt, seeing me so broken, but even if I had known the pain I was causing, I would have been useless to stop it.

  At first, I resisted all of Van’s efforts to end things between us. I thought we could go on like that forever if we had to and I tried to convince him of the same. After a few months, he appeared to be willing to indulge me. I didn’t know that he had resolved to let me go gently.

  Meanwhile, Ed’s divorce came through and, as predicted, Tasha put the house on the market and moved back to London without delay, leaving estate agents to deal with the sale. A few days before Christmas, almost a year to the day that I’d found Ed in the stockroom in pieces, he admitted that he was also thinking about selling up and moving away.

  I was floored.

  After Van left, I’d distanced myself from Ed, not wanting Van to have any more ammunition to end things between us. But somehow, along the way, I’d also lost Ed as a friend. He had stopped confiding in me.

  I convinced him to go for a drink with me after work to talk about it. I still remember walking through the streets of Falmouth, beneath Christmas lights sparkling prettily in the dark night, to find a cosy pub with a crackling fire burning in the hearth. But I felt so cold – chilled to my bones at the thought of him leaving.

  ‘I thought you loved it here in Cornwall,’ I said.

  ‘I did,’ he replied. ‘But it’s been tough lately. I think I might need a fresh start.’

  ‘Wasn’t this your fresh start?’

  ‘It was supposed to be.’ He sighed.

  We were feet away from each other, but he felt distant. We’d lost the easy companionship that we’d had only months before. At work, it wasn’t as noticeable – we were professional.

  ‘I know everything fell apart with you and Tasha, but you seemed to be coping okay with the split.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Ed, please talk to me,’ I urged, and an old familiar instinct kicked in, making me reach across to cover his hand with mine. He withdrew it like I’d given him an electric shock.

  I stared at him, but he seemed agitated, dragging his fingers through his hair and making it stick up every which way. He wouldn’t look at me as he drank from his pint glass, but I remained patient and eventually he met my eyes again.

  An edgy feeling started up in my stomach as we looked at each other and the thought that came to me was, maybe there is room in my heart for someone else…

  ‘I don’t want you to leave.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  I shook my head, trying to put up temporary shutters around Van so I could focus. ‘Not because I want to keep my job.’

  His mouth curved into a small, lovely smile, and I had an urge to lean in and kiss it.

  ‘I care about you,’ I said. ‘A lot.’

  He nodded and reached for his pint.

  ‘And not just as a friend.’

  The glass froze in the air, inches from his lips. He placed it back down on the table and turned to look at me properly. ‘What are you saying?’ he asked, his eyebrows pulling together.

  ‘I care about you. I have for a long time. But Van…’

  My voice trailed off and he reached for his pint again, taking several gulps.

  ‘Van wanted to break up with me in the summer,’ I revealed, finishing my sentence.

  Stunned, he restored his glass firmly to the sticky tabletop.

  ‘I never told you,’ I continued. ‘I was devastated, but I’m coming around to accepting his decision now. The last five years have been hard. He doesn’t think we can do eight more.’

  My vision clouded at that point, blissfully obscuring the look of pity in his eyes. I shook my head and swiped at my tears, knowing I had to make him understand. ‘But that’s not why he wanted to end it.’ I swallowed, steeling myself. ‘He suspected that there was something going on between you and me. Not physically,’ I added quickly at his look of horror. ‘Emotionally. And he was right,’ I added. ‘At least on my part. Do you care about me, Ed? As more than a friend?’
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  He stared at me for a moment before giving me a single nod. ‘But I never thought you’d be able to see past Van,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Neither did I,’ I said. ‘But I think I might’ve been wrong.’ I reached over and pressed his hand. This time he didn’t pull away. ‘I need to speak to him. Will you give me some time? Can we talk again when you get back after Christmas?’

  He was going to visit his family in London, shutting up the shop for the week between Christmas and New Year.

  He nodded.

  We hugged each other goodbye, but he made a move to withdraw after a brief embrace. I held on, and after a moment he gathered me even closer, allowing us to reconnect on a different level.

  And I felt it, my heart unfolding and unfurling towards him, opening itself up to a new love, a new beginning.

  I called Van that night.

  ‘What you said to me in the summer, the day before you left, about you wanting me to find room in my heart for someone else. Do you still mean it?’

  A strange sort of acceptance seemed to come over him. ‘Ed?’ he asked.

  I nodded, tears streaming down my cheeks like a tidal river going out to sea.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied gently. ‘I still mean it.’

  Ed breaks apart from me at the sound of the bathroom door unlocking. It’s been eight years since Van and I were last together, and Ed and I have been married for five and a half of them, but he will always be respectful of the history Van and I share.

  ‘Where are Libby and Luke?’ Van asks, walking into the kitchen.

  ‘Still in the annexe, getting better acquainted,’ I reply casually.

  He shoots me a sharp look and I laugh. ‘Don’t worry, Dad, Luke is a good boy.’

  ‘He might be good, but he’s still a boy,’ he replies drily, stalking out of the kitchen.

  Ed flashes me a grin as I trail after Van.

  ‘You know, you’re not going to be around to keep an eye on them for long,’ I whisper as Van comes to a halt, staring with alarm at the now-closed door of the annexe.

  He walks over to the window and peers inside, jerking away and cursing under his breath in his hurry to get to the door. I glance through the glass to see Luke leaning with his back against the wall and Libby sitting cross-legged further down his bed, Luke’s bare foot resting in her lap. They both shoot their heads towards the door as it flies open.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Van asks.

  ‘I’m checking out Luke’s war wounds,’ Libby replies insouciantly as I follow him inside. ‘That must’ve hurt,’ she continues addressing Luke. ‘How long were you out of the water?’

  ‘A few months, but it took a year to heal properly.’

  ‘His broken ankle,’ I say to Van, trying to hide my amusement at the stumped look on his face.

  ‘I dislocated my shoulder once,’ Libby says nonchalantly. ‘At Blacks – Blackfellows – in Elliston.’

  ‘I think I’ve heard of it,’ Luke says with surprise.

  ‘Yeah, it’s kinda famous. I surf there a lot. The reef is full of holes and once I wiped out and got swept into a cave. Man, I was seeing stars, and then my arm got stuck between a couple of rocks and I couldn’t break free. I thought I was a goner, but I managed to get out.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ I exclaim. ‘You could’ve drowned!’

  Libby shrugs and laughs. ‘You gotta pay to play.’

  I catch sight of Luke’s expression and am glad Van is preoccupied. I haven’t seen that look on my son’s face since he fell head over heels in love with Angela Rakesmith, his first serious girlfriend. He and Angie got together soon after he broke his ankle. She was a great diversion once the baby came along. Two children under the age of two kept me busy, to say the least. I’d been eight months pregnant with Ivy when Luke was in hospital. I still remember how grateful I was when Ed arranged that cot bed. He had to stay at home to look after Danny.

  I walk over to Van, who’s staring at the paintings on the wall.

  ‘I can’t believe they haven’t been replaced with posters of cars and girls by now,’ he murmurs with amazement.

  ‘All your old pebbles are on Ivy and Danny’s windowsill, now, too.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Luke is sidetracked by our conversation.

  ‘Van is surprised that you’ve still got his original Fudge and Smudge illustrations up,’ I reveal.

  ‘Oh. Yeah.’ He shrugs, self-consciously.

  ‘That’s so cool,’ Libby says, hopping down from the bed and coming over to take a closer look. ‘Why haven’t I got any of these?’ she asks her father.

  ‘I didn’t think you wanted them,’ he replies.

  ‘Yeah, I want them,’ she says irately, frowning at the wall. ‘They’re awesome.’

  ‘Libby, I specifically asked you about five years ago if you’d like me to frame any of these for your room at my house, and you said no,’ Van states pedantically.

  ‘I was thirteen, Dad,’ Libby replies pointedly. ‘I was a little bitch at that age.’

  I can’t help laughing.

  ‘Have you got any more?’ she asks.

  ‘Your dad has plenty,’ I answer on her father’s behalf. He’s too consumed with rolling his eyes and tutting to speak. ‘In fact, there are some already framed on the walls at the bookshop. You can take them on Saturday, if you like, and I’ll sort out some more for the shop.’

  ‘Awesome!’ Libby replies, gratified. ‘I’ll stick ’em up on my wall at uni.’

  We’re doing our first signing in eight years at Dragonheart. It’s kicking off a whole tour, although we’re focusing primarily on Cornwall and its neighbouring counties where the series has been most popular – I didn’t want to be far from Ivy and Danny at their age.

  Our cheeky little piskies are going from strength to strength: we now have twelve books and we won’t stop there. We’re still not exactly raking it in, but we adore doing what we do, creating something we believe in and working together. Van and I may not be lovers any more, but we will always be the best of friends. Our books are our babies, the only children we will ever have together.

  Van is here in the UK to help Libby get herself set up and to do the tour, but soon he’ll be going home again. Home to his job as a tug captain, home to his elderly father, home to his girlfriend (probably), just… home… He loves living in Australia and Libby doesn’t want him cramping her style, anyway.

  The irony is bittersweet.

  Through the window, I notice Ed putting a tray down on the bench table.

  ‘Afternoon tea’s ready,’ I say.

  ‘Aw, man,’ Libby groans, her eyes wide at the sight of a cake stand piled high with scones. I baked them yesterday, and Ed has bought in plenty of clotted cream and strawberry jam from the village shop.

  We all crowd around the table, Libby chattering excitedly, Ivy clambering onto her daddy’s lap, Luke spinning a squealing Danny round in a circle on the patio, and me, standing and pouring the tea, enjoying the ambience.

  I once asked Van, in a moment of weakness, before Ed and I got married, ‘Do you regret setting me on the path that led me to him?’

  It was Van, after all, who had suggested I go for the job at Dragonheart.

  He shook his head, emotion lurking in the depths of his night-sky eyes.

  ‘I’ll never regret seeing you happy, Nell. It’s all I ever wanted.’

  As I settle beside him at the table, I think back on another memory, to when he and I had finally called it quits. I’d called Ellie in bits and she was trying to console me.

  ‘What’s that saying?’ she asked. ‘If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they’re yours. If they don’t, they never were.’

  I don’t need hindsight or five years to look back on this moment and know that I am exactly where I’m meant to be. I smile at my husband across the table, glad that he knows he can trust me, even as Van and I set off alone on this tour together. Ed knows I will never hurt him the way that his ex-wife did. He k
nows that I love him and that I love our children and that there is no way I will ever do anything to jeopardise the life that we have together. I am happy. So very happy.

  But Ellie was wrong.

  I was always Van’s. I’ll always be Van’s – at least, a part of me will.

  Under the table, he hooks my little finger with his.

  And he knows it.

  Acknowledgements

  I don’t think I will ever start an acknowledgements page without first thanking you, my readers. I truly believe I have some of the loveliest, most passionate readers in the world and I can’t wait to hear what you think of this story. Now for the other thanks, of which there are many…

  Thank you to my wonderful editor, Suzanne Baboneau, and the entire team at Simon & Schuster for the fantastic job that they do, not least Bec Farrell, Jess Barratt, Pip Watkins, Sara-Jade Virtue, Dawn Burnett, Laura Hough, Gill Richardson, Richard Vlietstra, Joe Roche, Dominic Brendon, Poppy Jennings, Emma Capron and Jo Dickinson. Big thanks also to my copy-editor, Anne O’Brien, and Maisie Lawrence, for everything she did for me whilst at S&S. I’d also like to thank Lizzy Kremer for her words of wisdom.

  About a year and a half ago, I received a letter from my cousin, Dave Beaty, in South Australia, updating me on news about his twenty-something sons, Tom and Morgan. Dave’s descriptions of Tom and Morgan’s fishing jobs – which included Tom hand-feeding killer whales – sent shivers down my spine. I had to have a character that did these things! It has been a huge pleasure to get to know my cousins better (or ‘cousins, once removed’, if we’re being technical about it) and I can’t thank Tom and Morgan enough for sharing the stories that inspired so much of this book. I have dedicated Five Years From Now to their mother, Pascale, who very sadly passed away in 2015.

  My family holidays are often dictated by where my next book will be set, and in this case it was Cornwall in the summer of 2017. We stayed in a cottage on the Helford River and the setting was so perfect that I’ve hardly changed a thing about it. Thank you to Linda Dandy for making our stay at Rock Cottage so pleasant (rockcottagecornwall.com if you’d like to check it out yourself).