I Heart Hawaii: Escape with the funniest and most fabulous romcom of summer 2019 (I Heart Series, Book 8)

by Lindsey Kelk

  ‘Perhaps this group want you to join because they think you’d be a good fit,’ he suggested. ‘They clearly think a lot of you or they wouldn’t have asked you to join, now would they?’

  I’d been intimidated by Perry Dickson and her immaculately groomed lackeys from the moment she’d opened her front door but I hadn’t once asked myself why.

  ‘I think it’s because she’s got a crush on my husband,’ I said, wincing as I said the words. ‘And yes, I’m very aware of how stupid that sounds when I say it out loud.’

  ‘Not for me to say.’ Al held up his hand and dipped his head. ‘I’ve seen it all around here but it does seem to me that most people wouldn’t bother to do big favours for you or invite you to join their exclusive club if they’d got their eye on your chap. Have you stopped to consider the possibility they might simply believe you’d be a valuable addition?’

  ‘No,’ I said in a small voice. ‘I don’t think I have.’

  ‘There aren’t many advantages to getting to my age but I know a thing or two about a thing or two,’ he smiled. ‘The problem is, no one believes you until they’ve been through it all themselves.’

  ‘I will take any and all advice,’ I assured him. ‘Ever since I had my daughter, I’m realizing I know absolutely bugger all about anything. I worry so much more than I used to, about work, about what other people think, about everything. I really haven’t felt like myself since I had Alice.’

  ‘Maybe you don’t feel like yourself because you’re not yourself.’

  I looked back at him, not quite sure what to say.

  ‘Not the same person you were before, I mean,’ he said. ‘Things change when you have a child. Not that I’m one to offer parenting tips but I can help out with some of the tried and true classics. Trust your gut, ask for help when you need it and always believe the people who love you. And what was it Janey always used to say? Oh yes, go for the thing that keeps you awake at night.’

  ‘At the moment that’s my baby,’ I said, starting to smile again.

  Even though we both laughed, I knew exactly what he meant. When Alex was working on new music, he would sit locked in his tiny studio until daybreak, playing the same song over and over and over for hours, not stopping until it was perfect. Before Alice, I’d have done the same thing with my writing but I felt like caring too much about my work made me a bad mum.

  ‘You want to write a book, don’t you?’ Al asked.

  ‘I do,’ I confirmed.

  ‘Then you must.’

  ‘It all sounds very simple when you put it like that,’ I told him, looking down at the grass and seeing a shiny pair of Oxfords underneath the tree with a pair of black socks neatly tucked away inside. Al was barefoot.

  ‘At the risk of showing my age again, I think your generation has things a lot harder than mine did,’ he said, scratching his neck underneath his neat, white collar. ‘Yes, you’ve a lot more opportunities these days but there’s a damn sight more expectation. I work with a lot of women and they’re so bloody hard on themselves. Much more so than the men. There’s a girl called Amy who works for me. When she had her baby, she was back at work before we’d even had a chance to notice she was gone.’

  ‘It’s not easy,’ I agreed. ‘But I can’t imagine it any other way.’

  Because if I could change it, would I? Alice was my heart and soul. I could sit and stare at her face for hours and never get bored. I knew every freckle, every eyelash, every hair on her head, and I loved every single one of them, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t love my job as well. Even if I was exhausted and my hair looked shit and I accidentally wore two completely different shoes to the supermarket that one time, I wanted Alice and my writing in my life. And, god forbid, maybe even Perry Dickson and her friends? Well, perhaps this wasn’t the time to be making dramatic decisions.

  ‘I think this might be my last visit here,’ Al said, thumbs hooked in his jacket pockets and a smile blooming under his beard. ‘It’s been so nice to share it with friends for the last few weeks. Lovely to have Camilla over one last time. Kekipi can stay to close things up and then I think we’re done.’

  ‘Ah, I forgot you were friends with Camilla,’ I said, watching as his eyes glazed over, glassy with memories. I wondered what he was thinking about.

  ‘Oh, she’s an old friend of Janey’s,’ he explained, eyes still misty. ‘Millie used to be an assistant for Mary Quant, you know. The three of them could get quite rowdy when they wanted to.’

  ‘I believe you,’ I said, pinching my toes together in the cool grass, feeling like I was intruding once again. ‘I wish I could have been there.’

  Al continued to stare at something I couldn’t ever hope to see with a smile on his face that made me think he was happy, wherever he was.

  ‘I should get back to my villa,’ I said, picking up my laptop. It was time to leave him alone. ‘I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes in peace.’

  ‘On an island full of beautiful things, this garden is perhaps the most magical thing of all,’ Al said, weaving in and out of his memories before focusing back on me. ‘Do you have a photo of your Al? I should like to see my almost-namesake.’

  I patted myself down for my phone before I remembered.

  ‘You know, I don’t,’ I confessed. ‘They’re all on my phone and my phone broke. Well, I dropped my phone and then a horse broke it. I’d say it’s a long story but that’s more or less it.’

  Al considered me for a moment with a pleasantly confused look on his face.

  ‘Do you know Tess Brookes and Amy Smith? Because if you don’t, I really must introduce you.’

  ‘Thank you for all your advice,’ I said as he stood to his feet. I reached out to shake his hand goodbye but, instead, he beckoned me in for a hug and I wondered whether or not he was in the market for a part-time goddaughter. Surely Delia and Cici would share? Well, maybe not Cici. ‘And thank you again for letting us stay here. I can’t imagine a more beautiful place in all the world.’

  ‘I don’t think there is one,’ he replied, looking around the garden and smiling. ‘Very pleased to have met you, Angela Clark.’

  ‘Likewise,’ I said as I left him and his memories in the garden. ‘I hope I’ll see you again.’

  And I very much meant it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ‘I want to thank you all for joining us on such a beautiful journey.’ Camilla Rose raised a glass of champagne at the end of dinner on our final night, and, all along the table, everyone followed suit. ‘I’m so glad to have shared it with so many new friends.’

  James leaned in from my left with a huge fake smile on his face.

  ‘Why do I feel compelled to tell her the mascara is a bag of shite?’ he asked under his breath.

  ‘Because you’re no longer bound by your fears?’ I suggested. ‘Or you’re drunk. One or the other.’

  ‘Both,’ he said, tapping his champagne coupe against mine. ‘I think it’s both.’

  I dug my toes into the sand underneath the table. For our last supper, Jenny had outdone herself. The dining table from the main house had been moved down to the beach, close enough to the ocean so we could hear the waves washing in and out but far enough away for our feet to stay dry. As well as the most delicious food, the table was covered in a rainbow of Hawaiian flowers, just like the ones in Jane Bennett’s garden. Even though I missed Alice so much, I knew I would be so sad to say goodbye to this place, especially if Bertie Bennett was seriously considering selling up. It was almost cruel to bring someone to a place so perfect and then break it to them that they could literally never return. I hadn’t felt so betrayed since Cadbury discontinued Spira bars. Bloody loved a Spira.

  We sat down just as the blue sky started to turn pink, laughing and joking and, most importantly, eating, until the sun was completely swallowed up by the ocean. What seemed like a hundred candles of tiki torches glowed in the sand and the moon rose above the water, keen to show us she wasn’t afraid of a little flashy compe
tition. It was a perfect night.

  At one end of the table, Jenny was holding court, managing everyone beautifully. Not a trace of her worries appeared on her face. I hated to be so helpless when she was in need but, short of convincing James to sort her out with some slightly more active sperm, I didn’t know what else to do – and after everything he had drunk during the trip, I wasn’t sure that was a terribly workable idea anyway. God only knew what he was packing down there.

  ‘Angela, Angela, Angela,’ Louisa sang, resting her head on my shoulder, flowers in her hair and a smile on her face. ‘I love you so much.’

  ‘I love you too,’ I said, smoothing a stray strand of blonde hair away from my drunk friend’s face. She’d been tipsy for a straight twenty-four hours and was not going to enjoy the plane ride home. Flying hungover was the absolute worst. ‘Are you excited to go home and see Gracie?’

  She frowned and pulled a face. ‘Perhaps you could pop her on a plane and send her to me instead?’

  ‘What about Tim?’ I asked, trying not to smile.

  ‘No, he should probably stay in London,’ she said, eyes fixed on one of the shirtless waiters I assumed Jenny had hired. ‘Take care of the dog.’

  I laughed but at the same time I really hoped she was joking. Tim and Louisa had been through their fair share of marital strife but I always hoped in my heart of hearts that they were happy.

  ‘No, I can’t stay here, the food’s too good and I have no self-control. I’m getting fat,’ Lou poked herself in her not even slightly fat stomach. ‘But it’s been nice to have some time off. I can’t tell you how much better I feel for not watching Frozen in five straight days.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve turned on the TV the entire time we’ve been here,’ I breathed. ‘This place really is magic.’

  Louisa sipped her champagne and looked out to sea. ‘I might have watched a couple of episodes of Elena of Avalor in the bath earlier. I suppose I do miss her a bit.’

  ‘You know what you said earlier,’ I said, filling up her glass. This was a delicate conversation that would doubtlessly go better if well lubricated. Like so many things in life. ‘In the garden.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘You said your life was boring,’ I filled up my glass too, just to be on the safe side. ‘You don’t really think that, do you?’

  She made a thinking noise and rapped her fingernails against the stem of her glass. Louisa’s nails were bright red, just like Jenny’s, but short and neat rather than long and lethal. Someone out there would make a killing if they could make a video on how to change nappies with acrylics but it was not going to be me or Lou.

  ‘Sometimes I do,’ she admitted. ‘But only when I compare myself to other people. We all have our off days, don’t we? I bet even Meghan Markle gets pissed off sometimes. There’s all these people out there going, “Oh, I wish I was a princess”, but how many times in the last few years has that woman woke up, looked at the papers and thought, “Fuck all this, I just want to get in the car and go to yoga”, but she can’t, can she?’

  She was right. To a million people, I had the perfect life but how many times had I lain awake, feeling like I wasn’t enough?

  ‘Seems like Lily is the only one of us who has achieved total transcendence,’ I said, nodding across the table where the UK’s leading beauty blogger was pouting into her phone screen, attempting to get the perfect selfie without any of us plebs messing up the background.

  ‘No, she’s just a dickhead,’ Louisa replied. ‘And I promised I’d meet up with her in London when we get back. Remind me to delete all my social media before we leave.’

  ‘She doesn’t deserve you,’ I told her, picking a bit of frosting off one of the pink velvet cupcakes that had been our dessert. ‘You, Louisa, are the closest thing this world has to a perfect human. You’re a good mum, a brilliant wife, an awesome friend and you’ve always got one of those little blue blocks in the toilet.’

  ‘Don’t set me off crying,’ she laughed, delighted. ‘We both know this mascara won’t hold up. Angela Clark, I will never forgive New York for stealing you away. Life would be so much easier if you were back at home. Every time either of us was starting to feel a flicker of FOMO, I’d come round with a bottle of wine and we’d slag off everyone on Love Island until we felt better.’

  ‘Maybe I can convince Alex we need to spend a summer at home,’ I said with a grin. ‘Because that does sound nice.’

  ‘What sounds nice?’ Paige asked, hopping into James’s empty seat on my left. I looked up to see him charging up and down the beach with Eva on his shoulders, apparently no longer concerned about using humour to push people away.

  ‘Bottle of wine, slagging people off, Love Island,’ I repeated.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ Paige looked stricken. ‘I hadn’t even thought about that. Do they even show it in America?’

  I shook my head and emptied the bottle of champagne into Paige’s glass as she choked back a sob.

  ‘It’s not too late for you to change your mind,’ I told her. ‘There isn’t a single soul who wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Except Cici,’ she replied.

  ‘There isn’t a single person who has a soul who wouldn’t understand,’ I corrected.

  She breathed in deeply before taking a drink. ‘I have heard some horror stories about her but she’s only been nice to me. I was just as worried about meeting you, to be honest.’

  ‘Me?’ I asked with surprise. ‘Why would you be worried about meeting me?’

  ‘You’ve already run your own magazine,’ she said, lifting her perfectly groomed brows. ‘I wasn’t sure how happy you’d be about someone coming in above you.’

  Which was entirely fair because I hadn’t been that happy about it at all.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to speak to you about something you mentioned the other night,’ she said, putting down her glass. ‘It’s been bothering me and I think we should get it out the way before we start working together properly.’

  Oh god, oh god, oh god. What did I say, I wondered, desperately trying to work out what she was referring to.

  ‘Only you said something about me doing the job better than you could’ve and that threw me a little. It’s better that we’re honest with each other. Did you apply for the job?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m honestly very happy you got the job. I think you’ll be amazing at it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, still staring directly at me. Her ability to stay calm under pressure only made me flap more. There was nothing like someone who kept their powder dry to send my verbal diarrhoea into overdrive.

  ‘It was actually Cici who mentioned something to me about someone in HR suggesting I would be good for the job but I certainly didn’t apply for it because I’ve got more than enough on, haven’t I? Launching Recherché and a new baby and now this book proposal as well – that’s more than enough for one person.’

  Paige licked her lips and took a sip of her drink.

  ‘Besides, I really wouldn’t want to do that kind of overseeing management job again,’ I insisted. ‘I really want to be more hands-on creative, writing, editing, telling stories, more that kind of thing.’

  Still she said nothing.

  ‘So I’m incredibly glad you’re here, grateful in fact, because I know Cici doesn’t care about the day-to-day editorial direction of Besson and I think you’ll do a bloody good job of it and we British girls have got to stick together and I’m a Libra and I hate confrontation and everything’s all right, isn’t it?’

  Paige nodded and picked up her glass.

  ‘A-OK, AC,’ she said, pushing back her chair and walking away with a wink.

  ‘What was that all about?’ Louisa asked.

  ‘Why do you allow me to drink?’ I groaned, head in my hands. ‘Or talk? Or breathe?’

  ‘There, there,’ she said as she rubbed small reassuring circles on my back. ‘It’ll all come out in the wash.’

  When Cici said she saw a lot of
herself in Paige, I’d thought she was referring to the fact they were both hot blondes with hot bods who liked a nice frock but maybe Cici had seen something I’d missed. What if they had more in common that I realized?

  ‘Hey, everyone,’ Jenny clambered up on her chair, a champagne coupe full of sparkling water held aloft. ‘We have one last surprise, courtesy of our host, Bertie Bennett, so if you’d all like to take out your phones, Instagram at the ready, and look over thatta way, we’ll be starting any second.’

  A rally of whoops and cheers came next and the entire table grabbed for their phones and cameras and, in a couple of instances, both.

  ‘I should have asked, you don’t think anyone is going to be sensitive to fireworks, do you?’ Jenny asked, dropping herself directly into my lap and kicking her legs across Louisa’s knees. ‘I heard someone sued the city last year because the explosions gave their dogs PTSD.’

  Louisa and I looked at each other.

  ‘Lily?’ she asked.

  ‘Lily,’ I agreed.

  ‘Fuck Lily,’ Jenny said after less than a second’s consideration, leaning forward to take the tiniest sip from my champagne glass. ‘I freaking love fireworks.’

  ‘Me too,’ Louisa said, holding up her phone in preparation. ‘It always seems like such a shame that we only get them in winter at home.’

  ‘And we only get them in summer,’ I replied. ‘And I mostly avoid the Fourth of July, don’t I, Jenny?’

  Lou gave her a questioning look.

  ‘Jesus, it only happened one time,’ she sighed dramatically. ‘This guy I was dating asked Angela why she was celebrating America’s independence from the UK and it got kind of heated.’

  ‘He did not ask why I was celebrating, he screamed, “Why are you here, red coat?’ over and over in my face,’ I replied, not enjoying the memory at all. ‘And then he sang “God Save the Queen” with some interesting new lyrics and showed me his arse.’

  ‘He was a fun guy,’ Jenny said, twirling a curl around her fingers as she gazed off into the distance with a small smile on her face. ‘Billy, right? His name was Billy. I wonder what happened to him.’