‘It is your coin, Laura.’ Then she pauses, closing her eyes. ‘But don’t hold on to these things too tightly. Objects only hold the meanings we give them.’
There is a pained look on Sue’s face – regret, remorse? I move our hands gently up and down together, an acknowledgment that I know what she is trying to say.
At the airport, Ted parks the cab and walks me into Departures. He’s not taking the boat back for a few more days.
‘So, I’ll see you in London then,’ he says, pulling me into a tight hug.
‘I hope so,’ I say, taking a last inhale, savouring the smell and feel of his neck.
Pulling back to look at each other, we both grin. I don’t want to leave yet, to walk into the cold – anywhere without the warmth of his gaze.
‘I didn’t pay you,’ I say with a gasp, remembering the fare we agreed last week.
Ted laughs.
‘I think I can let it slide.’
‘No, I want to pay you,’ I say, feeling it as a point of principle.
‘You can buy me dinner in London,’ he says, reaching out to take my fingers in his.
‘What about your tip?’ I watch his face and try to memorise every inch of it. ‘I always tip my cab drivers.’
He raises his eyebrows, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Then, I remember my grandmother’s words – don’t hold on too tight – and before I can over-think it, I take the coin from around my neck, unclip half from the pendant, and give one piece of the shiny ha’penny to Ted. He takes it, but looks at me with eyes that say, ‘I can’t, it’s too much.’
I close his hand around it.
‘You can give it back to me when I see you, just hold on to it for now, keep it safe.’ Before he can object, I kiss him on the cheek, then turn and head towards security.
‘Laura!’ he calls after me, and I swing back around. ‘Don’t go picking up another man’s luggage anytime soon, will you?’
‘I’ll try not to,’ I say, with a wink, and then, swinging my hair as though I’m in a shampoo commercial, I stride off towards the departure gate. Reaching a hand up to my pendant, I feel the empty space; where once there was a whole, there is now only a crescent of coin. I am leaving the island lighter than I came, in so many ways.
LAURA LE QUESNE’S GUIDE TO JERSEY BEACHES AND BAYS
Best Bay to kick off your shoes – Bouley
Best Bay to hunt for sea glass – Rozel
Best Beach to dance beneath the stars – Plémont
Best Beach to spot Henry Cavill naked – Grève de Lecq
Best Beach to drink too much sangria or eat lobster by the shore – L’Étacq
Best Bay to see the beautiful bioluminescence – La Rocque Harbour
Best Beach to have a paddle-boarding date – St Brelade’s
Best Beach you’ll only know about if you’re local – Beauport
Best Beach for pizza and PDAs on the sand – Portelet
Best Beach for gazing at the horizon and resetting your soul – St Ouen’s
Epilogue
Fifteen months later
‘Thank you so much for agreeing to do this, Laura,’ says Suki. ‘It only seemed fitting that it would be you who interviews us. You were always best at these things.’
She squeezes Jasper’s arm and looks up at him like a wide-eyed schoolgirl.
‘Well, what’s one more for old times’ sake?’ I say with a smile. ‘It’s good to see you both. How is your family, Jasper?’
‘They’re so excited about the wedding. We’re having the reception at my mother’s house,’ says Jasper. ‘My sisters are all terrified of Suki, which is just the way I like it. None of them dare boss me about when she’s around, ha ha.’
He leans down to kiss her, and she sinks into his arms – I still can’t get my head around the change in Suki this last year; it’s as though Jasper’s adoration has smoothed away some of her hard edges. I have to avert my gaze as the kiss carries on an awkward amount of time.
‘And how’s Ted?’ Jasper asks, finally freeing his lips to talk. ‘Suki said you were moving to Jersey full-time? Do you need a new kitchen in that old house you’re going to live in?’
‘I think we’re good for kitchens. But yes, Ted finally got a job at the Jersey hospital and since I can work anywhere, we’ll be living there permanently now.’
‘Are you still writing?’ Suki asks. ‘I haven’t had a pitch from you in a while. You’d better not be offering your ideas elsewhere before coming to me first?’ I hear the familiar edge in her voice.
‘Well, I’m writing less and less these days,’ I explain, ‘the jewellery design is taking up so much of my time.’
‘We looked at your website! I’m so impressed, Laura,’ says Jasper.
‘I saw that Bee Bee Graceful wore one of your quaint necklaces to the book launch where she revealed her true identity. I’m sure that didn’t do you any harm PR-wise,’ Suki says, her eyes challenging me for a reaction. ‘Not that your designs aren’t charming, but I’m sure it helps to have a global influencer on your side.’
‘Well, yes, that certainly helped raise my profile.’ Suki still hasn’t forgiven me for leaving. She pretends to play nice, especially since she credits me for introducing her to Jasper, but a little backhanded insult can usually be found in there somewhere. ‘Right, shall we get this on tape then?’
Jasper and Suki take seats on the red studio sofa. Avril, the camerawoman, has the lighting and the sound all set up. I perch on a stool out of shot and notice how strange it feels to be doing one of these interviews again, with these two, of all people.
‘So,’ I say in my best presenter voice, ‘Suki and Jasper, tell our Love Life subscribers, how did you meet?’
‘Well, it all began when one of my best journalists, who shall remain nameless, ha ha, went to Jersey to research a story, and she picked up the wrong suitcase at the airport …’ Suki begins.
The interview goes well. Suki does ninety per cent of the talking, but it is clear how besotted Jasper is, he can’t take his eyes off her.
When he is finally allowed a chance to speak, he says, ‘The funny thing is, Suki is not my usual type at all. I usually go for blondes, and she’s got black hair; she’s city, I’m country; she hates boats, I live on them; I’m a foodie, and she doesn’t seem to eat anything. She can’t abide the kind of music I like, but well, something about it just works – all I want to do is make her happy. Love works in mysterious ways sometimes, doesn’t it?’
‘It does. Congratulations on your engagement,’ I say. ‘Can you tell us about the proposal?’
‘Well, Jasper sent me a text, asking if I could get him a drink from the fridge in the Emmeline kitchen – which you can see if you swipe up from this interview. It’s one of his best-sellers; anyway, I trot along and open the door, and Jasper has taken all the shelves out and is sitting in there with a ring.’
I can’t help laughing at this. They hadn’t told me that detail when they asked me to do this interview.
‘Of course, I fainted clean away. It was so terrifying finding a body in the fridge, so he only got to propose properly once the paramedics arrived and I was sufficiently conscious.’
‘It was a bit of a botched job, I’ll admit,’ says Jasper, ‘though it does go to show how exceptionally spacious Furlong Fridges are – I put them in all the Contessa Kitchens. Luckily, despite scaring her half to death, Suki still said yes. We’ll have to split our time between London and Jersey, but we’ll make it work.’ Jasper leans over to kiss Suki’s head, then rolls up his sleeve to reveal a small ‘Suki’ tattoo written in italic on his forearm. ‘I never thought I’d be the type of person to get a tattoo.’
‘I’ve got one, too,’ says Suki, ‘but I won’t show you where.’
And then they start tickling each other, giggling and whispering in a way that makes Avril and me feel we’d both like freakishly large fridges to climb into.
Once we’ve wrapped filming, I have to run; I’m meeting Ted for dinner a
fter his shift at the hospital.
‘Laura, are you sure I can’t persuade you and Ted to do an interview for us?’ Suki asks. ‘Your story is almost as good as ours, and it’s always good to have friends of the Love Life family doing their bit to support the brand.’
‘No, I don’t think so, Suki. We’re—’ I try to think of a tactful way to say that we don’t want to share our story with anyone else. ‘We’re trying to keep things low-key.’
‘Fine,’ Suki sighs. ‘Well, I’ll give you the nod at our wedding to make sure you catch the bouquet. Oh, and Henry Cavill is coming, too, so if you want an upgrade on Ted, let me know and I’ll sort out the seating plan.’
We say our goodbyes, and I run to the train to take me down to Chelsea and Westminster.
The Fulham Road is damp from an earlier rain shower, the pavement busy – people queue for buses, pull their coats around them and hurry off to wherever they are going. The streetlights have just come on in the early evening light, and there is an amber glow in the air. After waiting outside the front of the hospital for five minutes, I see Ted come out through the doors, looking left and right a few times before he clocks me. I don’t call out to him. Sometimes, I love just watching the way he is in the world; I savour this stolen moment to take him in before he sees me. He’s grown his beard back, at my request, but it’s short now, well groomed, and I love it, my Beardy McCastaway.
He sees me and tilts his head, shrugging as though to ask why I didn’t call out his name.
‘Alright, Lady Muck?’ he says.
‘How was it? Your last day.’
But he doesn’t answer, he just picks me up off the ground, folds me in his arms, and kisses me as though it were the first time. It’s his I-don’t-care-who’s-watching-kiss, and it floors me every time.
‘What was I saying?’ I ask, light-headed, when he finally puts me down.
‘You asked about my day,’ he smiles. ‘It was fine, emotional, but I’ll stay in touch with everyone, I hope. How did the interview go, with Suki and Jasper?’
‘Bizarre,’ I say. ‘I still can’t get my head around those two together. Nothing about them as a couple makes any sense, but then you see the way they look at each other and—’
‘Kablammo?’
‘Well, yes. Vanya says Suki’s completely changed; she even lets people work remotely now, mainly because she’s in Jersey half the time herself. Oh, before I forget – Dee rang. She, Neil, and baby Isaac are all going to come and stay next weekend, Vanya too, so they’ll all be there for the exhibition launch. We might put Vanya in the house and the others in the cottage – apparently Isaac’s a terrible sleeper and is up half the night with colic.’
‘If we ever have a baby, Laura, you do know we won’t be able to relegate it to sleeping in the cottage?’
‘Yes, I know, but we’ll cross that sleep-deprived bridge when we come to it, shall we? Dee won’t mind, she loves it there; it’s cosy.’
Ted pauses, unzipping his backpack to retrieve his copper bracelet from an inner pocket, then he fastens it back onto his wrist. He’s not allowed to wear jewellery on shift, but otherwise, he wears it all the time. I made it for him; it’s a plain copper band with his half of the coin embedded in the front.
‘I’ve got so much to organise before the jewellery exhibition next weekend. It might have been ambitious to think we could move everything out of my flat, get all our things over on the ferry, and plan the launch of my first official collection, all in the same week,’ I say, hugging his arm tight into mine as we walk along the damp pavement.
‘Well, Ilídio’s made all the display cabinets already, and Sandy’s invited half the island to the opening. It will be fine, don’t worry,’ says Ted.
‘Do you think Gerry will be able to make it?’ I ask, turning to see Ted’s face in the streetlight. He pulls my hand up to his lips and kisses it.
‘He’ll be there, Laura. We’ll all be there for you.’
And I know, as I have for a while now, that this man will be there for me, as long as I want him to be, as I will be there for him.
I have no illusions about happily ever afters – I know life will bring its challenges and nothing is forever – but I hope we might be happy today, and for as many todays as we are lucky enough to have.
Acknowledgements
Do you read the acknowledgements at the end of a book? You do? Yeah, me too. I know some people like to get a little glimpse of what goes on beneath the bonnet of a book, so here is a little peek into the people and places who helped get Laura’s story on the road.
Firstly, the person who always points me in the right direction, my steering wheel, my agent and friend, Clare Wallace. Thank you for your sound advice and your patient ear.
The wheels of the book, without whom this story wouldn’t have gone anywhere – the fabulous teams at Arrow and Putnam. Sonny Marr, Kate Dresser and Tricja Okuniewska, who edited and helped in crafting various drafts of this story. The phenomenal PRH rights, publicity and marketing teams. I have included a list of publishing credits at the end of the book, to thank every single member of UK Team Just Haven’t Met You Yet.
My husband, Tim: I’m going to say you’re the heated seat in this car analogy, supporting me all the way. Thank you for always filling our car with petrol, literally and metaphorically, and for leaving me strawberry laces in the glove box. You are a hero.
Traci O’Dea, my friend and fellow writer: I think you were my GPS system on this one. I always value your perceptive and intelligent criticism. If you are interested in poetry – look Traci up, she’s enormously talented.
The body of the car – the story itself, was born from so many things, but, for his part, I must thank Andrew Garton who talked to me about his experience of living with Parkinson’s. Gerry is not Andrew, but I would never have written a character like Gerry if I had not met Andrew – I’m not sure I would have believed such sanguine wisdom existed. Andrew is a cabinet maker, and I wrote this element into the story after being lucky enough to see inside his workshop. Andrew, I hope I have managed to convey a little of your life philosophy in these pages.
Also making up the body of the car; the island of Jersey. I moved here seven years ago and have fallen in love with the history, the beaches and the people who I now call my friends. Thank you to my favourite coffee shops who kept me caffeine-fuelled while I wrote this, the Potato Shack Café at Woodlands Farm, Cargo and Dandy’s. It feels such a responsibility to set a book in the place where you live, to do a place justice, which of course my words cannot, but I hope Islanders will see the Jersey they know in these pages.
My friends and family, my in-car entertainment – keeping me sane and singing as I drive along. I miss seeing you all more often. My invaluable support network of writer friends, Debut20 and The Savvy’s. All the women’s fiction writers who have been so supportive, bringing me into the fold – what a lovely bunch you are.
Finally, and most importantly, you, my readers, my passengers in the car. I hope you enjoyed going on this journey. Writing this, I often worried who on earth was going to appreciate my weird sense of humour, who would want to read a book about flying tampons, Phil Collins and coat alcoves, all washed down with the serious themes of memory and loss. Hopefully, if you’ve read this far, you might be that person. If you did enjoy reading this, please consider leaving a review online. It makes such a big difference to authors and helps others to discover my books, which in turn helps me write more books! I also love hearing from readers on social media, so do get in touch:
Instagram: @sophie_cousens
Twitter: @SophieCous
Facebook: @sophiecousensauthor
#JustHaventMetYouYet
If you would like to stay up-to-date with my latest news, find out what I’m reading, access bonus content and see photos of some of the real locations featured in this book, you can check out my website and subscribe to my newsletter at www.sophiecousens.com.
I will sign off hoping that you,
dear reader, have a spirit level for your soul – be it a person, a place or simply a cup of tea and a good book.
There are so many people working behind the scenes to put a book like this into your hands, so I wanted to say a huge thank you to the whole Arrow team for all their support. I am hugely grateful.
PUBLISHER
Emily Griffin
DESIGN
Emma Grey-Gelder
UK SALES
Mat Watterson
Claire Simmonds
PUBLICITY
Rachel Kennedy
EDITORIAL
Sonny Marr
Joanna Taylor
Sophie Whitehead
Sania Riaz
AUDIO
Ashleigh James
PRODUCTION
Helen Wynn-Smith
INTERNATIONAL SALES
Cara Conquest
Barbora Sabolova
MARKETING
Natalia Cacciatore
RIGHTS
Amelia Evans
Monique Corless
THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
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Published by Penguin Books in 2021
Copyright © Sophie Cousens, 2021
Just Haven't Met You Yet Page 30
