The Story After Us: A heartwarming tale of life and love for modern women everywhere

by Fiona Perrin

  ‘God, I’ve missed you,’ Ben whispered and my stomach turned its jive into rock and roll.

  The MC took to the stage again and addressed us in Italian and then melodious English. Eventually the furious torrent of networking dribbled to a small babble and then silence. A waiter placed new glasses of champagne in front of everyone at the table. Ben turned to Marti and Liv raised her eyebrows in wonder at me. I tried to communicate using facial expressions that it was confusing, but good confusing.

  Numerous gongs were presented and, each time, there was a hushed moment of suspense as the nominees waited for the results. There were shrieks in many European tongues from tables of winners; cameras popped again and again as the recipients of Luxes gushed their gratitude to their colleagues in speeches that seemed to last forever.

  All the time I was aware, with every sense, that Ben sat a few inches away.

  Marti and several of the guests were looking slightly worse for wear by now. Liv was hiccupping and, as she did so, her boobs rose and fell in the silver dress. Haydon was clearly enjoying the sight. Then the MC said that there was going to be a break in the proceedings before the second half: the really important awards.

  It was then that I felt Ben’s big hand on mine and heard the whisper in my ear. ‘Let’s go outside and talk,’ he said. ‘That’s if you want to.’

  41

  I stumbled as Ben took my arm and steered me towards a purple sofa in the plush bar outside. Crowds started to gather around us, closing us off in a private corner.

  The sheer pointlessness of the conversation we were about to have hit me. ‘I don’t know what there is to say,’ I said. ‘Apart from it’s nice to see you.’ The intense happiness of seeing him would soon turn into the horrible feeling of missing him all over again.

  ‘You’ve got to let me do the talking.’ His voice was direct and quick.

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘I do?’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ he said, sitting down and holding both my hands. He was very warm.

  There was a silence, then he said, ‘I think I might seriously like you, Ami. I’m not very good without you.’

  I looked at him and tears welled in my eyes. We were still divided by the needs of two sets of children. ‘It’ll never work with you in one country and me in another one and…’ The best we would ever have was stolen weekends and midnight conversations on Skype.

  ‘But it will. We can give it a go – that’s what I need to tell you. Sshhhhh. Just for a bit. Really. You’ve got to let me talk.’

  ‘You stalked me again – this time to Rome.’ I smiled a big grin that was sad and happy at the same time.

  ‘I got bored with not stalking you,’ he said.

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘I just haven’t been able to think since I left you that night. Maybe I should have begged you not to go back to your husband. And then there you were… back with him. Going on holiday with him.’ He spat this last sentence out.

  ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘Bridget told me.’

  ‘You tortured Bridget until she told you where I was?’

  ‘She was singing like a canary the moment I asked. But that’s not it—’

  ‘What I don’t understand is why you told me to go back to him if you didn’t mean it?’ I interrupted him.

  ‘You weren’t quite over your marriage. I met you and you were…’

  ‘Deranged?’

  ‘You were a bit, actually. But that didn’t stop me just adoring you. I couldn’t even get drunk near you because I would have…’

  ‘Jumped me?’

  ‘You know, you forget about sophisticated phrases like that when you—’

  ‘Hang out with stuck-up Italian birds?’

  ‘Exactly. Anyway, so I kept on grilling Bridget and she kept on saying you were back with your husband until one day a couple of months back. She said you’d come back from holiday and were spending all day talking to a divorce lawyer rather than working.’

  ‘That’s her promotion down the drain, then,’ I said. ‘So?’

  ‘But mostly there were the kids. I do need to be near them, Ami.’ There it was. We could be together, but it was always going to be an every-other-weekend relationship and that would be when I could afford it.

  ‘Of course you do,’ I said very quietly.

  ‘But then two amazing things happened. And it was somehow as if they were… well, just a little bit meant to be – look, I know I sound like Liv—’

  ‘Just get on with it.’

  ‘Firstly, I got this new job – European-wide remit, could base myself anywhere that suited me; got to be in the UK quite a lot anyway.’

  ‘Well done again, by the way,’ I said.

  ‘But that wasn’t enough. My children were still in Milan, so I wasn’t going to move anywhere. But then…’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Patrizia’s husband got posted to London for a three-year sabbatical at UCL. The kids are moving to London with them and I’m coming back as well.’

  ‘What?’ Was Ben coming to London to live? His kids were moving here, so he could too? ‘Did you really say you’re going to live in London for quite a while?’

  ‘Whether you want me to or not,’ he said.

  I leant forward for a soft kiss of souls coming together; of potential, of resolution, and it went on and on.

  ‘Oh, God, I can’t believe this. I’ve missed you so much. When did this happen?’ I whispered eventually.

  ‘Last week. But then I had to go to New York and I wanted to phone you and say that I was sorry I couldn’t be at the awards, but I thought by then you’d have forgotten all about me. Even though it was going to be possible to be together I didn’t think you would want to… but I’ve been a bloody wreck since I left you.’

  ‘Really a wreck?’ My grin stretched right across my face.

  ‘A shipwreck. Covered in barnacles at the bottom of the ocean.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘And then, then it seemed as if everything was falling into place. The New York deal finished early and then, then, all I could think about was whether I could get back and see you at the Luxes and… find out if…’

  ‘You know how I feel,’ I whispered. And we kissed and kissed again.

  *

  ‘Our award now,’ said Ben into the darkness as we finally slid back into our seats. He smiled at me.

  The award seemed completely irrelevant. Was it really possible that I was going to be able to hang out with this ridiculous, handsome, laughing man and even, maybe, sleep with him? All I could think about was getting out of this castle on a hill and getting on with it.

  Liv was shooting questioning glances across the table at me. All the City people and board members seemed to wake up as the Master of Ceremonies read out the nominations for ‘Best Print Campaign for a European Brand’.

  ‘What the hell is that actually?’ Liv could be heard asking Haydon under her breath.

  ‘No idea, no idea at all.’ He was red in the face from strong whisky with only outrageous desire as a mixer.

  Versions of the various advertising campaigns appeared on the large screens on both sides of the stage as the nominations were announced, first in Italian and then in English.

  ‘Wooo, hooo, hooo,’ shouted Liv and Bridget when it came to ‘Brand New for the Campury, “Who Needs a Man?” campaign’.

  I slunk back in my chair. It was bound to have been won by Jimmy Choo.

  The winner was read out in Italian first. ‘E il vincitore è Brand New per la campagna di Campury ‘chi ha bisogno di un uomo?’ said the Master of Ceremonies. Ben was on his feet, stamping and clapping.

  ‘Does that mean we’ve won?’ Marti said.

  ‘We’ve won. We’ve bloody won,’ Ben cried. He grabbed me and hugged the air out of me but I still didn’t quite know what was happening.

  The compère repeated, ‘And the winner is Brand New for their campaign for Campury “Who Needs a Man?”’

>   Liv jumped up and rushed towards me. ‘This is your fifteen minutes,’ she hissed. We’d actually won. All those late nights panicking until we got the right idea. So many hours since we’d got the account, falling asleep over analysing the results. And now we’d actually won.

  The crowd clapped and cheered, and all the City people got to their feet and came round to thump Marti on the back. He hugged me hard.

  I gave Bridget a huge kiss. ‘This is our award. Ours and Jake and Luis’.’ She was crying with pride.

  ‘Come on.’ Ben pushed everyone out of the way. ‘You’ve got to make a speech.’ He edged me gently towards the stage. ‘God, I’m so proud of you.’

  I snaked through the tables towards the stage in a daze, the cheers continuing as loud pulsating music beat in time to my steps. Then I climbed the few steps onto the stage. The glamorous crowd seemed to shrink as if I were in a plane that was climbing higher and higher. I blinked in the brightness but found I couldn’t fall. I was dimly aware that I could still hear Liv’s cheering even as the rest of the crowd subdued and I could make out Ben standing on his chair and clapping hard. I airkissed the Master of Ceremonies, accepted the glass bowl inscribed in flourishing Italian and took my place behind the podium.

  The audience went silent. From the stage they were a jumble of expectant faces, waiting for me to speak.

  I knew what I wanted to say, although I hadn’t prepared a speech. ‘Campury handbags had always been bought by men for women.’ My voice began uncertainly but then became stronger. ‘But of course, today, women buy their own bags, make their own futures, decide on the shape of their own families. In putting this campaign together, all we did was reflect that: women with or without a man who are choosing their own futures.’ The female elements of the crowd cheered first but then the men joined in, so it was extra loud. I remembered to thank the team at Goldwyn, especially Bridget, and Campury for being ‘the client who gave my agency and our ideas a chance’. Then to more frenzied clapping, I climbed down.

  At the bottom of the steps, Ben was waiting. He pulled me in for a huge hug.

  ‘I’m so proud of you,’ he said again into my ear as the MC started to announce the next award. I smiled up at him as he grinned. ‘I know you don’t bloody need me, Ami Fitch, but is there any chance you might want me anyway?’

  We hope you enjoyed this book.

  Fiona Perrin’s next book is coming in summer 2019

  More addictive fiction from Aria:

  Find out more

  Find out more

  Find out more

  Acknowledgements

  About Fiona Perrin

  Become an Aria Addict

  Sign up to our newsletter

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to everyone who has read this book. I love all of you.

  Special thanks to lovely Diana Beaumont, a fantastic cheerleader of an agent. And to Lucy Gilmour, editor at Aria, who made me jump around the room when she described The Story After Us as a ‘feminist text’. And everyone who is a feminist, actually, just for being one.

  And the rest of the team at Aria for all your help bringing my baby to life.

  A few years back I was lucky enough to be able to attend the Curtis Brown Creative Writing course – thanks to Chris Wakling and Anna Davis for fantastic, inspiring teaching. But more than that, I met the people who formed our spin-off writing group and turned up every other Monday for years. Maria Realf, Lisa Williamson, James Hall, Christina Pishiris, Sara-Mae Tuson and Paul Golden; I loved every heated debate about commas and why there isn’t more sex in chapter six.

  Also, my old reading group at the Bull pub run by my great friend Louisa Notley. I’m going to give it a miss when you debate mine, but please be kind – And save me some food. And Lou, thanks for reading it too and saving up jokes for the next one and to Mandie for all your amazing help.

  Thank you to Fanny Johnstone, who has read it several times and joined in the despair and hope of trying to become a writer: poor country girls, we take our time but get there in the end.

  Natalie Emanuel, thank you for believing in me, listening to me and encouraging me – as well as being made to read drafts. The champagne really helped you know – it was medicinal.

  Rachel Lichtenstein, for all your encouragement, reading, love and wisdom.

  To Diane Johnstone, the kindest and earliest reader, who spurred me to keep going. Also, to Famke Vanluffelen who read an early version because my Mum was excited about it – your feedback was invaluable.

  Mum herself, (Jan Hallam) who faithfully read it about a hundred times (always within 24 hours) and gave me feedback and support. She raises loads of money for the local food bank every week through her book stall in Porthleven, Cornwall; I apologise in advance if she bullied you into buying this when you stopped by to browse.

  Everyone called Perrin, or married to a Perrin, or associated in some way with a Perrin, offspring of a Perrin etc – thank you for being my family. And in memory of Dad, Robert Perrin, who knew this book was on its way.

  And thanks to David Emanuel, who turned out to be a pretty good ex-husband and a very good friend (but no, it’s not about you). And all my other friends – you are all spectacular.

  Then the kids: Elyse and Sienna, my greatest supporters and the Original Fam. Tom and Laura, lovely step-children. And the pets – Soppy Wagster and Ducky von Fluffy – cheers for sitting everywhere I wanted to type and seeing me as a feeding machine. You’ve all made the last few years while writing this quite mad but also so much fun. Love to you all and thank you.

  And Alan, for being the person I want to sit on a bench with when I’m old, holding hands and laughing at a silly joke. You’ve cheered me all the way. Thank you.

  About Fiona Perrin

  FIONA PERRIN was a journalist and copywriter before building a career as a sales and marketing director in industry. Having always written, she completed the Curtis Brown Creative Writing course before writing The Story After Us. Fiona grew up in Cornwall, hung out for a long time in London and then Hertfordshire, and now writes as often as possible from her study overlooking the sea at the end of The Lizard peninsula.

  Find me on Twitter

  Visit my website

  Become an Aria Addict

  Aria is the new digital-first fiction imprint from Head of Zeus.

  It’s Aria’s ambition to discover and publish tomorrow’s superstars, targeting fiction addicts and readers keen to discover new and exciting authors.

  Aria will publish a variety of genres under the commercial fiction umbrella such as women’s fiction, crime, thrillers, historical fiction, saga and erotica.

  So, whether you’re a budding writer looking for a publisher or an avid reader looking for something to escape with – Aria will have something for you.

  Get in touch: aria@headofzeus.com

  Become an Aria Addict

  Find us on Twitter

  Find us on Facebook

  Find us on BookGrail

  Addictive Fiction

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2018 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd

  Copyright © Fiona Perrin, 2018

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

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  9 7 5 3 1 2 4 6 8

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

  ISBN (E) 9781788547338

  Aria

  an imprint of Head of Zeus<
br />
  First Floor East

  5–8 Hardwick Street

  London EC1R 4RG

  Visit Aria now

  Visit Head of Zeus now