by Gill Paul
‘Are you sure you want to marry them, too?’ said Rachel.
Daniel looked surprised.
‘I’d never thought of it like that before,’ he said. ‘I think I can put up with Claire’s family for her sake.’
‘I’d be honoured to marry into Jamie’s family,’ said Rachel. ‘His mum’s a sweetheart. Not that we’re getting married just yet. We’ve not been together that long.’
‘Well good for you,’ said Daniel. He sounded genuine. Suddenly Rachel had the urge to confide. She’d kept it in all day and the secret was driving her demented.
‘We have something to celebrate tonight, too,’ she said.
‘Which is?’
‘I’m pregnant,’ said Rachel.
‘Wow,’ said Daniel. ‘Congratulations. I can’t wait to become a dad. What does Jamie think?’
‘He doesn’t know,’ said Rachel. ‘I was going to tell him tonight. But …’
‘You got stuck in a lift with me instead.’
Rachel gave a wry smile.
‘Not quite the Valentine’s evening we’d both hoped for is it?’
They lapsed into silence briefly, and then they looked at each other and laughed.
‘If I had to be stuck in a lift,’ said Rachel, ‘I’m glad it was with you.’
‘Me too,’ said Daniel, ‘me too.’
Just then they heard a voice above them.
‘You OK down there? Should have you out in a jiffy.’
Five minutes later there was a clanking and the lift came up to the next floor. A smiling engineer who introduced himself as Ali, forced open the doors for them.
‘Thanks so much,’ said Rachel. ‘It was good of you to come so far on such a horrible evening.’
‘No worries,’ said Ali cheerfully, ‘I was having a Valentine’s meal with my wife downstairs. I overheard them saying they couldn’t get hold of an engineer when I came to pay.’
‘What’s the weather doing now?’ Daniel looked out of the window, where the snow seemed to have stopped.
‘It seems to be clearing up,’ said Rachel.
‘That’s it then,’ said Daniel, ‘I’m going to get to Claire tonight, come hell or high water.’
‘And I shall go round to Jamie’s,’ said Rachel. ‘It’s only 9 p.m. Perhaps we can salvage something of this evening after all.’
Daniel gave her a hug, ‘Thanks, Rachel, for listening,’ he said. ‘And good luck to you too.’
They parted slightly awkwardly, with Rachel wandering to the window of the staff room to watch him race to his car, a man most definitely on a mission. He was sweet, lovely and amazingly good looking. She hoped Claire was worth it. Then she turned her thoughts away from Daniel, to Jamie. She was on a mission too. Time for his Valentine’s surprise …
*
One Year Later
Daniel was pulling out of the main road onto a side road on his way back to London, when he did a double take. Wasn’t this where he’d got stuck a year ago? He consulted his sat nav, and yes, he was right, in a few minutes he’d be coming to that pub he’d got stuck in with that lovely girl – Rachel was it? That seemed like an odd serendipity tonight of all nights. He’d only been in the area to meet a prospective client, he hadn’t realised it was so close to that pub.
Out of curiosity more than for any other reason, he decided to pull over at the Three Keys. Rachel probably wasn’t working there anymore. She must have had her baby by now and be on maternity leave. But it couldn’t hurt to pull in and have a drink. There wasn’t anything to get back for in London tonight …
*
Valentine’s Day. Ha. She would have had to come back to work today of all days. Rachel would have loved to have had more time off, but she couldn’t really afford it. Thank god Mum was so great and accommodating about looking after the baby. It was a great help. And as Mum said, there was no use crying over spilt milk, and Daniel was such a gorgeous baby, it made some things a lot easier.
‘Pint of shandy, please,’ Rachel heard the voice, without clocking first how she knew it. Then she looked up to see Daniel. Lovely Daniel, whom she’d spent last Valentine’s Day with. Lovely Daniel who she’d named her baby after, and had been foolishly obsessing over for a year. Lovely Daniel who must be married by now. Which is why she deliberately hadn’t looked him up on Facebook …
‘You!’ they said together.
*
Valentine’s Day a year ago.
Daniel eventually drove up Claire’s driveway at 10 p.m. Her dad was talking rot, it was completely clear. In fact as soon as he’d got a couple of miles outside Little Halliday the roads had been fine. The house was in darkness. She couldn’t have gone to bed already could she? In his excitement about leaving, Daniel hadn’t thought to text to say he was, after all, on his way. He rang the doorbell, a little nervously. And eventually a light went on upstairs, and through the glass pane on the door, he could see Claire’s shadow come down the stairs.
Without thinking about it, he got down on one knee, held out the ring, and when Claire flung the door open, was about to ask the one question he’d been thinking of all week, to be met by a response of ‘Oh, Oh God.’ Which wasn’t quite the response he’d been hoping for.
Claire looked upset, like she’d been crying, and he got up awkwardly and gave her a hug.
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ he said, ‘I didn’t mean to stuff things up, but you know what I just did, that’s genuine, I love you.’
‘I love you too,’ said Claire, her voice muffled in his shoulder, ‘but …’
‘But?’ Daniel had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
‘You’d better come in,’ she said.
Daniel followed her into the kitchen, where she turned on the light, sat on a swivel stool and stared at him sadly. The feeling in his stomach tightened into a hard knot of anxiety.
‘I’m really sorry,’ said Daniel, ‘Can we start again?’
‘Can we?’ said Claire, looking bleak.
‘Claire, I know I was late,’ said Daniel, ‘but I couldn’t have predicted the weather, and–’
‘Daniel,’ Claire threw her arms up, ‘You’re gorgeous and lovely and I’m lucky to have you as my boyfriend, I know it’s a cliché, but it’s not you it’s me.’
‘What do you mean?’ Daniel didn’t want her to say, it, but somehow he had to make her spell it out.
‘I just can’t do this anymore,’ said Claire miserably. ‘We’re too different.’
‘That sounds like your dad talking,’ said Daniel. ‘Come on, Claire, I’ve just spent the last four hours trying to get to you, so I can give you this. I know I was late, but I love you Claire, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’
He pushed the diamond ring in front of her. She looked embarrassed and looked away.
‘Daniel,’ she said, ‘I do love you. But this is a mistake. We wouldn’t resent each other now, but we might in the future. I’m from a rich middle class family, you’re from a–’
‘Poor black council state community, I know,’ finished Daniel bitterly. ‘Your dad has really got to you hasn’t he?’
‘Please understand,’ said Claire, ‘I think in the long run it would be better for both of us if we found more like minded people.’
Daniel felt as if someone had doused him in ice cold water.
‘I thought I had,’ he said sadly. ‘I thought you were better than that, Claire, but I was clearly wrong.’
‘I am,’ Claire looked at him pleadingly. ‘You’re right, that’s not what I think. It’s what Daddy thinks. But I’m not strong enough to take them on. Not even for you. And you’d come to hate me for it, I know you would.’
‘I already do,’ said Daniel. He pocketed the ring, walked out of the house, got in the car and drove home.
*
‘And that was it?’ said Rachel, ‘All over?’
‘That was it,’ said Daniel. ‘I did get a couple of tearful drunken texts apologising, but it wasn�
��t enough. When the chips were down she wasn’t prepared to fight for me.’
‘I thought she didn’t sound good enough for you,’ Rachel dug him in the ribs.
‘How would you know who would be good enough for me?’ said Daniel. ‘You barely know me.’
‘But I know that you deserve better,’ said Rachel.
‘And what about you?’ said Daniel. ‘I wasn’t really expecting to see you tonight. I thought you’d be at home with Jamie, playing happy families.’
‘Ah, about that,’ said Rachel …
*
Rachel had been so excited when she left the hotel. She’d been determined that she’d surprise Jamie after all. His flat wasn’t too far from the hotel, so it made sense to go there anyway with the weather being what it was. She hugged herself in excitement as she slipped her way down the path to his house. He’d be so surprised to see her. It was lucky he’d given her a spare key.
She let herself in quietly, wanting to surprise him. There were no sounds coming from the lounge. Maybe the lads had gone home. She walked in to see the remains of a takeaway and two glasses of bubbly, half drunk. Two glasses? Hang on.
From the bedroom at the end of the corridor came the unmistakeable sounds of two people up to no good. Maybe it was Jamie’s flatmate, Nathan, Rachel reasoned. Perhaps Jamie had gone to the pub with the lads, and she’d got the wrong end of the stick. But he hadn’t and she hadn’t. The sounds were coming most definitely from his room. In a blind fury, she picked up the remainder of the bottle of champagne, and walked straight in on them.
‘This should dampen your ardour,’ she said, as she poured champagne on his bobbing back.
‘What the–?’ Jamie turned round and looked in horror at her.
‘Who are you?’ said the very naked girl underneath him.
‘His girlfriend,’ said Rachel bitterly. ‘I take it he hasn’t mentioned me.’
‘You said it was a bit of fun,’ said the girl accusingly.
‘Yes and he won’t have told you the best bit,’ said Rachel. ‘He’s got his bit of fun up the duff.’
‘Rache,’ said Jamie looking genuinely contrite, while trying to cover himself up unsuccessfully. She’d have laughed if she hadn’t been so angry. ‘You’re pregnant? Can’t we talk about this?’
‘No, Jamie, I really don’t think we can,’ said Rachel. And she turned and walked away.
*
‘So that was it?’ said Daniel. ‘Did you see him again?’
‘We tried for a bit, for the baby’s sake,’ said Rachel, ‘but it was pretty clear that he wasn’t really bothered, so I called it a day. He sees the baby sometimes, but I don’t expect he’ll stick at it. I learnt a little late that Jamie’s not the sticking kind.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Daniel.
‘Don’t be,’ said Rachel. ‘I have a roof over my head, a job, and my lovely little Daniel. I have everything I could possibly need.’
‘You mean–?’
‘I named him after you,’ said Rachel. ‘One of the kindest men I’ve ever met, and someone I would have been proud to have kids with.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Daniel, ‘but I’m flattered.’
‘Say nothing,’ said Rachel, ‘I’m really pleased you turned up here tonight. Though don’t take it the wrong way, but I don’t really want to get stuck in the lift with you again.’
‘It’s Valentine’s night though,’ said Daniel. ‘I don’t think we should be alone.’
‘Why break the habit of a lifetime?’ said Rachel. ‘Last year was the first year I had ever had the opportunity to spend it with someone.’
‘Well we’ll have to rectify that, then won’t we?’ said Daniel. ‘I have two questions, when do you get off duty and can I buy you a drink?’
*
Valentine’s Day Next Year
‘Do you come here often?’ Daniel opened the door of the Three Keys to let a very pregnant Rachel through.
‘Far too often,’ she said. ‘But never often enough with you.’
‘Ah, Rachel, you say the nicest things,’ said Daniel as he kissed her.
‘And Daniel, you really know how to show a girl a good time.’
‘I know this is where you work,’ Daniel said, as they sat down at the table. ‘But it seemed appropriate.’
‘Appropriate for what?’
‘For this?’ said Daniel. He clicked his fingers and the band started to play. And then kneeling one leg, he held out a beautiful sapphire ring and said, ‘Rachel, will you be my Valentine forever?’
‘Yes, oh yes,’ said Rachel, ‘now get up off the floor you numpty and let’s dance.’
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About the Author
Julia has always made up stories in her head, and until recently she thought everyone else did too. She grew up in London, one of eight children, including a twin sister. She married Dave, a dentist, in 1989, and they have four daughters. After the birth of the second Julia decided to try her hand at writing. Since then she has written 8 hugely popular novels, selling over a quarter of a million copies in the UK alone, and hitting the Sunday Times bestseller list.
CATHERINE FERGUSON
Saving Miranda
The Serendipitous One
Copyright
Avon
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2015
Copyright © Catherine Ferguson 2015
Catherine Ferguson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © February 2015 ISBN: 9780008136086
Version: 2015–01–23
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Saving Miranda
Keep Reading
About the Author
Saving Miranda
I’ve got that daft song lodged in my brain.
Always look on the bright side of life!
De-doo. De-doo-de-doo-de-doo.
It honestly couldn’t be less appropriate. Except if you take into account that when he sang it, Eric Idle was nailed to a cross. And I’m stuck up a tree.
So, same scary distance from solid earth.
I desperately need the loo but I can’t cross my legs because I’m balanced on the spindliest branch that will snap if I move an inch.
I’ve been stranded fifteen feet above the ground for what feels like hours. Every time the wind gets up and my perch starts to sway, I go rigid with shock and think: This is it! I’m going to die! I’m so numb with cold, I keep having visions of the latest Damart thermal-wear catalogue. And to top it all, hailstones the size of golf balls have just begun falling out of the sky and chipping at my head.
I risk a quick glance down and my head swims.
Always look on the bright side of—
Shut up, shut up!
Poppy ran off to get h
elp. But how aware are eight-year-olds of the fragility of life? She could so easily have got distracted by a friend on the swings in the park or—
My heart leaps.
A familiar black car is travelling along the road that skirts the village green. It comes to a stop a hundred yards away, almost exactly level with my tree, and relief floods through me.
Thank God!
He gets out and I prepare to yell, ‘Up here! Up here!’ but a second later, the words freeze in my throat.
What I’m looking at makes my heart lurch with disbelief.
I clutch the branch more tightly as a wave of nausea floods through me.
*
One Week Ago
I’m lying in a blissfully deep bubble bath, eating a banana and sipping from a mug of builder’s strength Tetley’s, when the doorbell goes.
Bugger! Who …?
Perhaps I’ll pretend I’m out and just stay here luxuriating for a little while longer …
‘Miranda? Are you in there?’
Rufus! My heart pings.
Rufus is supposed to be in Berkshire, rescuing a pair of historical oak trees. He must have saved them in double quick time and driven back early.
I pull the plug and lurch from the bath so fast, a mini tidal wave follows me out, sloshing water all over the floor. A swift glance in the mirror reveals a slight case of panda eyes (could it pass as the ‘smoky’ look?) and a blonde ponytail all limp from the steamy bath. I rip out the hair tie, fluff out my locks then pull on my robe and abandon the chaos.
I’m closing the bathroom door firmly behind me just as Rufus walks in.
My heart performs its usual triple flip of pleasure.
Rufus Leybourne.
My boyfriend of five months.
Tall and dark. Gorgeous. Sexy. Dynamic.
Plus he’s absolutely brilliant at saving the planet.
‘Hey, gorgeous.’ He gives me that smile that makes my insides turn to melted chocolate and brushes my lips with his. ‘So what have you been up to dressed like that at two in the afternoon?’
‘Oh, nothing much.’ I slip my hands inside his jacket and snuggle against his favourite waistcoat. It’s made from one hundred per cent recycled worsted wool (whatever that is) and it’s a bit scratchy, but I don’t care because it’s imbued with that lovely Rufus smell: a blend of musk and lemon with a hint of something spicy. ‘I just had a shower – an, erm, very quick shower.’
