“Maybe I’ll just have a quick shower to warm up and de-curry? Then I’ll be right with you. Hold this thought!”
The hot water scorched her skin and she watched her belly go pink under the stream. The heat was heavenly. Quinn knocked on the bathroom door. Minnie turned, nervously clutching her hands around her body. Was he coming in? Would he be that bold?
“Oh I, er, I just wanted to check you didn’t actually call the police,” Quinn called out.
“Oh, no,” she called back. “I didn’t. That’s just what I shout when I think a burglar is chasing me down the street.”
“OK, good, just checking. Sorry to disturb.” His voice sounded nervous. Minnie smiled to herself.
What was going to happen now? Was she going to go out there, kiss him again, and pick up from where they’d left off the last time he’d been in her flat? She closed her eyes under the water. She wanted that, of course, but she also felt nervous—could anything live up to the expectation?
She dried herself in the shower and crept through to the bedroom. She wanted to get changed rather than talk to him with nothing but a towel between them. She threw on her warmest clothes: a green polo neck and yesterday’s jeans, then she went through to the living room. Quinn was sitting on the sofa with Lucky on his lap.
She sat down next to him, suddenly acutely aware of the empty Malteser packets, and the looming face of Margaret Thatcher on her TV screen where she’d paused The Iron Lady.
“Minnie, I am so glad you called tonight. These last few months without seeing you . . .” He trailed off and put a hand up to her face, pulling her gaze to meet his.
“I promise you, I’m never going to stop you from having that Mustang moment when you need it. And I’m sorry I hurt you, I was scared to feel like this—to not be in control.” He took a breath. “It took me all these months to realize I wasn’t scared of you needing me, I was scared by how much I needed you.”
“I’m scared too,” she said quietly. “It’s overwhelming.”
They looked into each other’s eyes and in the stillness of the moment, beyond the owls communing with each other, a new dialogue opened up between them. They held hands in the semi-darkness. Suddenly, Minnie knew what she wanted to do.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Nearly half eleven,” said Quinn.
“Let’s go out. Let’s take a picnic to Primrose Hill and watch the fireworks. I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“Go out? What about the jinx?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
“What jinx? I make my own luck these days.” Minnie cocked her head at him. “I just want to do one New Year right, one New Year where I’m not stuck in a toilet or an airport or the ER or hiding at home watching TV. I just want one proper midnight, to start this year right.”
She said it tentatively, not sure if he’d understand. Quinn smiled; something behind the liquid of his eyes flashed in comprehension. Minnie’s owls were not happy about what she was saying; the owls wanted her to get naked with Quinn as fast as possible, but she overruled them—the owls were short-termist creatures.
“Let’s go find ourselves a midnight,” he said, standing up and reaching for Minnie’s hand.
Minnie rummaged around her kitchen cabinets and pulled out a picnic blanket. She threw a few picnic supplies into a canvas bag and then they were out the door and into an Uber.
* * *
—
Primrose Hill was packed. They wouldn’t be able to push their way up through the crowd to get the best view from the top. It was four minutes to midnight—they’d made it just in time. Minnie laid the rug out on the only piece of grass that was free. It was near the bins at the bottom of the hill, next to a group of teenagers drinking beers and playing the guitar. Quinn opened up the bag of picnic supplies she had brought.
“Milk?” he said, laughing, as he pulled out a carton.
“I didn’t have anything else to drink in my fridge,” she said with a laugh.
“Weetabix cereal and a banana,” he said, pulling out the remaining contents of the bag.
“They go with the milk.” She laughed again. “Look, a picnic’s a picnic.” She elbowed him gently. “We don’t keep champagne and canapés on tap in Willesden.”
Quinn took a bite of dry Weetabix and a swig of milk from the carton, then made an overblown “hmmm, delicious” face. They both grinned. All around them, people started yelling out the countdown.
“Ten, nine, eight . . .”
In the sky there were a few early explosions, light streaming across the sky in bursts of color. They could just see the top of the BT tower, shining brightly on the horizon.
“Three, two, one, HAPPY NEW YEAR!” cried voices all around them.
“Happy birthday, wonderful, beautiful Minnie,” whispered Quinn, leaning in to kiss her.
“Happy birthday to you too.”
The teenager on the guitar started playing “Auld Lang Syne” and people began to sing along. As Quinn and Minnie kissed, the sky erupted in fireworks from all around the city. Light blazing and bursting high into the air, floating down again in a twinkling canopy of burnished rain.
Then Minnie’s phone began to ring. She pulled back from Quinn, took it from her bag, and looked at the screen.
“Unknown number,” she said, making a puzzled face. “Hello?”
“Hi, Minnie, it’s Tara. Is Quinn with you?”
“It’s your mum,” Minnie mouthed to Quinn.
“Yes, he’s here,” she told Tara. “I’ll put you on . . .”
Quinn closed his eyes and held out his hand to take the phone.
“No, no, I don’t need to speak to him,” Tara said. “I just wanted to check that he’d found you. He called me looking for your number earlier, and I just managed to get your details from your mother. I’m so glad you were able to find each other.”
Quinn was still holding out his hand for the phone, his brow furrowed in confusion as to why Minnie was still talking to his mother.
“We’re on Primrose Hill,” said Minnie, standing up and waving at the blue house across the road. “I’m waving now, I doubt you can see me. We could come and say hello in a bit?”
“No, don’t. Go and enjoy yourselves,” said Tara. “Oh, and, Minnie?”
“Yes.”
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
Minnie said good-bye and hung up the phone.
“What was that about?” asked Quinn.
“You called her earlier looking for my number, she just wanted to check you’d found me.”
Quinn nodded and rolled his eyes to the sky. “I called her from a friend’s phone when my mobile died. I hoped she might have your number.”
“Well, she says happy birthday,” said Minnie.
Minnie leaned back against Quinn’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck, setting off a whole new wave of fireworks. Streams of light crackled on the horizon and Minnie let out a contented sigh. As they gently swayed to the music of the guitar, Minnie’s head resting on Quinn’s shoulder, he said, “In the morning, shall we go to the heath and watch the sunrise from our hill?”
“Our hill? I like the sound of that.” Then, after a pause, Minnie said, “Quinn, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, anything.”
“It’s a silly question Leila always asks on New Year’s Eve. It’s kind of a tradition—where do you want to be this time next year?”
“Where do I want to be?” Quinn paused for a moment. “I want to be right here, with you, on Primrose Hill, having a Weetabix picnic.”
She smiled, the kind of smile where you feel your muscles might soon tire from smiling so much. She turned her head to kiss his mouth. Kissing for Minnie usually came with a degree of self-consciousness. Beneath the physical connection there was always an awareness of
what the other person might be thinking, of where it might lead, or that you might need to leave soon to get the bus. It was like reading subtitles while watching a film—your focus wasn’t always entirely in the right place. With this kiss, there were no subtitles. Her thinking mind surrendered to the pleasure of the moment.
“What about you?” he said eventually, his breath hot on her cheek. “Where do you want to be?”
“I don’t mind where I am,” she said softly. “As long as it’s you I’m kissing at lemming o’clock.”
She saw his eyes grow wide and he said in a strange voice, “Lemming o’clock? You? . . . I knew it was you . . .”
And in the time it took her to realize what he meant, she leaned in to kiss him again and the whole world folded into this small patch of grass on Primrose Hill.
Acknowledgments
They say it takes a village to raise a child. Well, I think it takes a small town to publish a book. There are so many people I need to thank for their role in bringing this book into your hands. Firstly, to my wonderful, talented agent, Clare Wallace at Darley Anderson, for helping me to become the writer I always wanted to be. I couldn’t ask for a better, more supportive co-pilot on my writing journey. Secondly, to my editors Sonny Marr at Arrow and Margo Lipschultz at Putnam, whose insight and input have elevated this book from a shop-bought ham sandwich to a slow-roasted ham hock with all the trimmings. It has been a joy to work with such brilliant people, who care as much about my characters as I do.
I would also like to thank the whole team at Penguin Random House, especially the Rights team and the Press and Marketing team. They have done a fantastic job putting this book out into the world. Without them, you would not be reading this.
Closer to home, my husband, Tim, who, even though he said this book was “not really his thing,” still read it (twice) and held the fort with the domestic load while I scurried upstairs to write another thousand words. It’s no easy task to write a book on top of having a job and two small children—life around the edges gets squeezed, so for supporting me as tirelessly as you do, I will always be grateful. To ArtHouse Jersey, for allowing me time off when I had an edit due. (If you are an artist, look them up, they do wonderful things.) To Strawberry Laces, for fueling the majority of this book. To my first readers—Rids, Nat, Sarah, and Traci—your input on various drafts was hugely appreciated. Rids—you will always be my first reader. To all my female friends—who inspired the character of Leila—this book is as much a love story about friendship as it is a romance. AHAS, JANSS—you complete me. To my parents, who built my foundation—allowing me to believe I might do anything I put my mind to in life.
Finally, and most important, to you, for reading this book to the end! I really hope you enjoyed it. If you did, I would love you to leave a review online—it helps other readers discover me. And please do get in touch on social media:
@sophie_cousens on Instagram
@SophieCous on Twitter
#ThisTimeNextYear
P.S. This book was written in a pre-COVID world. The 2020 of Minnie and Quinn’s world now exists only in some parallel universe. Whatever the year ahead might bring for us all, let’s keep reading. Books free us from isolation. Stories unite us. We’ve all had to play in one-player mode for a while—but we’re all still in this game together.
This Time Next Year
SOPHIE COUSENS
Discussion Guide
Recipes
This Time Next Year Discussion Guide
1. The novel begins on New Year’s Eve, and also follows Minnie and Quinn throughout the years on that particular day. What implications does New Year’s have for the two of them? On what occasions have their paths almost crossed, and what did you make of their first meeting in the present of the story?
2. Though they are born on the same day within minutes of each other, Minnie’s and Quinn’s lives take very different courses. Discuss the ways the moments before and after they were born go on to dictate their lives.
3. What role do Minnie’s and Quinn’s parents play in both the past and present of the story? How do past grudges become reconciled?
4. Aside from meeting Quinn, Minnie’s life undergoes a lot of change in the romance, career, and friendship departments. What are the main conflicts in each of these aspects of her life? How do they help Minnie redefine herself and ultimately bring her life back to order?
5. Discuss how Minnie’s relationship with Quinn differs from her relationship with Greg? Similarly, how did Quinn’s previous relationships foster his commitment issues, and how does Minnie help him work through them?
6. How do the meetings at Hampstead Heath help cultivate Minnie and Quinn’s love? How do they become turning points in their relationship? Discuss the meaning of this place for them both, and the power of place in general in bringing people together.
7. What can Minnie and Quinn’s coming together tell us about fate and destiny when it comes to love? To what extent do we have to also shape that future ourselves?
8. What do you think is in the future for Minnie and Quinn? How do you suspect their outlook on New Year’s changes when they get together?
9. Where do you want to be this time next year?
Baking Recipes
Steak Gyllenhaal Pie
(STEAK AND ALE)
Serves 4 to 6
FOR THE FILLING
1 lb, 4oz boneless beef shank or beef chuck, cut into large chunks
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons sunflower oil
6 slices bacon, cut into ¾-inch pieces
2 onions, peeled and quartered
1¼ cups (300ml) Guinness or similar dark ale
¾ cup (200ml) beef stock
4 thyme sprigs
2 bay leaves
2 carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
2 celery stalks, roughly chopped
6 ounces Portobello mushrooms
½ teaspoon packed light brown sugar
1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
FOR THE PASTRY (OR YOU CAN CHEAT AND USE SHOP-BOUGHT, READY-TO-ROLL PASTRY! I WON’T TELL ANYONE.)
3⅓ cups all-purpose flour
1 stick (8 tablespoons) cold unsalted butter, diced
½ cup lard (or substitute with more butter)
Large pinch of salt
2 to 3 tablespoons ice water
A little beaten egg to use for glazing (alternatively, you can use milk)
YOU WILL NEED
Time. This is not a quick meal to make. Alternatively, you can make a big batch of filling then freeze and defrost it in portions when you want to make your pies.
A large casserole dish
4 to 6 individual pie dishes or 1 large (1½-quart) pie dish
A pie funnel, if you have one. (You can also use an ovenproof upturned egg cup, to stop the pastry from falling into the pie. You will only need this if making a large pie rather than individual portions.)
A great soundtrack to sing along to as you cook!
Preheat the oven to 300F (150C).
Make the filling: Put the chunks of steak in a resealable plastic bag with the flour and toss until well coated. Heat a splash of the oil in a large frying pan over a high heat and sear the flour-coated beef in batches, turning to brown all sides, 3 to 4 minutes. Spoon the seared beef into an ovenproof casserole dish.
Add a splash more oil to the empty pan, and return to a high heat. Fry the bacon until it begins to brown. Next, cook the onions in the same pan until soft and opaque, 5 to 6 minutes. Drain off any excess bacon fat and add the onion/bacon mixture to the casserole dish.
Pour about a third of the ale into the pan and bring to a simmer for 2 minutes to deglaze the pan, then
pour the whole lot into the casserole dish with the meat. Place the dish on the stove and add the remaining ale, then the stock, herbs, carrots, celery, mushrooms, sugar, and vinegar. If the liquid doesn’t cover the ingredients, add a little more ale or stock. Bring to a boil on the stove, so that the mixture is piping-hot when it goes in the oven.
Cover with foil, or put the lid on the casserole dish, and put in the oven for 2½ hours. Remove from the oven to stir, taste the sauce, and season with salt and pepper. Return the dish to the oven, uncovered, and cook, stirring occasionally, for another hour, until the meat is tender. Cool to room temperature.
Meanwhile, make the pastry: Sift the flour into a large bowl, add the diced butter and lard and rub in with your fingertips until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs, with pea-sized lumps of fat. Alternatively you can use a food processor and pulse the ingredients until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.
Stir in a pinch of salt, then gradually add the ice water, 1 tablespoon at a time, just enough for the dough to come together. Your pastry should still be somewhat crumbly when ready. Don’t add too much water, or it will make the crust tough.
Knead the dough briefly and gently on a floured surface and pat into discs. Wrap the discs in plastic wrap and chill for 20 minutes.
Assemble the pie: Preheat the oven to 350F (180C) and position a rack in the middle of the oven. Spoon the filling into a dish. Roll out the pastry on a floured surface to slightly less than ½ inch thick. Place over the pie, pushing down around the edges to seal, then use a knife to cut an inch-long slit in the middle to allow steam out. If you have one, place a pie funnel on the center of the dough to keep the pastry crispy. Use any extra pastry to decorate the top—I like to add a small M to mine! Brush the surface with the beaten egg. Bake for 30 minutes or until golden.
Share the pie with someone you love. Or why not make four small ones—keep two and deliver two as gifts to someone who might like a home-cooked meal!
This Time Next Year Page 33
