by Lucy Diamond
‘Too right,’ Izzy said. ‘And good luck with the IVF. How exciting.’
‘It all sounds a bit medical and undignified,’ Emma said ruefully. ‘I’m not looking forward to that side of things, but …’ She shrugged. ‘Fingers crossed anyway. We’ve had some tests, and the doctor said there’s nothing actually physically wrong with us, so it’s worth a go.’
‘It’s definitely worth a go,’ Alicia echoed. ‘Medical science is amazing. You’ve got every chance.’
‘Thanks,’ Emma said. ‘We’re both feeling hopeful. It’s going to happen, I’m sure of it.’
Alicia was glad for her. Hopeful was good. But, whatever the outcome, Emma and David seemed so much happier these days, full stop: settled in their new home, with David working again. She and the family had gone over to stay with them for the weekend, and they’d all had a great time together at the Science Museum and zoo.
She finished her drink and gazed over at the cricket match where Lucas appeared to have just whacked the cricket ball straight into his father’s nuts, to raucous cheers from David and Charlie. She burst out laughing as Hugh collapsed theatrically, demanding to be brought alcoholic sustenance immediately.
Yes, she thought to herself happily. Sports injuries aside, things had worked out pretty well for the Joneses.
Epilogue
Two months later Alicia was waving goodbye to Hugh and the children at St Pancras station and wheeling her case through to the Eurostar terminus. Hugh – unromantic, unimaginative house-brick Hugh – had surprised her the week before by presenting her with a return ticket to Paris. ‘I’ve booked you into a really nice hotel,’ he said, hardly able to contain his glee at her astonishment, ‘and here are some euros for you to spend. Oh, and Emma sent me the guidebook she and David used when they were there the other month. She’s marked up all the nicest bars and restaurants they found.’
Alicia could not believe it. Even now, sitting on the train as it began accelerating out of the station, she still could hardly believe it. Here she was, Alicia Jones, forty and five months, speeding through outer London with a packed itinerary ahead of her. Next stop: Paris!
The city was bustling with life when she alighted at the Gare du Nord, the station full of holidaymakers lugging along suitcases, tour groups consulting maps, and coffee stands that smelled heavenly. Clutching her bags close to her (pickpockets were rife here, according to Emma’s guidebook), Alicia followed signs for the taxi rank and waited her turn. It was so exciting, simply being in a queue surrounded by real French people. She had no idea what they were saying to each other, but it sounded beautiful. She was finally here. She was in Paris!
The hotel was in the third arrondissement, on a quiet road just a short walk from the Musée Carnavalet. Once she’d checked in, rather haltingly, and found her room, she sat for a few moments on the edge of her double bed and laughed to herself. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered, on the verge of hysteria. ‘I actually made it.’ She flopped backwards, gazing up at the ceiling and grinning like a halfwit. ‘I’m here, in Paris, for the whole weekend. It’s happening!’
After texting Hugh that she’d arrived and all was well (she resisted the urge to phone and talk to him and all the children at great length), she washed her face, combed her hair and put on some lipstick. Right! So … what next? First, she’d like to take a stroll around the area to soak up the atmosphere. And maybe after that she’d sit and have a coffee, one of those short, strong Parisian coffees that blew your head off, according to Emma. Maybe even a cheeky glass of wine too. And why ever not?
Oh, she thought, smiling happily at herself in the mirror, this was going to be fun.
Over the next two and a half days Alicia must have walked miles. She saw the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, Notre-Dame and Sacré-Coeur. She ogled gorgeous shoes in Pring, sampled bonbons in Jacques Genin and ate buttery pastries in the grassy square at the Place des Vosges. The architecture was stunning, the food divine, the city brimmed with history and vitality, and the Parisians looked every bit as chic and sexy and cool as she’d hoped. She felt sated.
She must come back here with Hugh, she vowed, as she regretfully packed up her belongings on her last morning and said a sad goodbye to the hotel room. Wonderful and exciting as it was to explore the city alone, there had been moments when she’d wanted to share the beauty with somebody else, to point out an incredible view, to giggle over a haughty madame almost tripping over a runaway poodle, to clink wine glasses with at the end of the day.
Ah well. Bof! as the French said. They would just have to come back together another year. Izzy had already offered to look after the children any time, or maybe even Emma and David would want to practise their parenting skills and step into the breach.
She lingered in the doorway of her room for a moment, then pulled the door shut behind her and wheeled her suitcase slowly to the lift. Goodbye, hotel, goodbye. Thank you for looking after me and being so utterly splendid. Thank you for one of the greatest weekends of my life. It’s been amazing.
Down she went, smiling as she thought of seeing everyone again later that evening and telling them all about her trip. But as she emerged from the lift to the ground floor, she stopped dead in shock. For there, signing in at the reception desk, was none other than Hugh. What the … ?
She blinked, wondering if it was a mirage at first, some kind of delusion. Maybe, because she’d just been thinking about him, she was projecting, turning complete strangers into husband-lookalikes. She rubbed her eyes and stared. No. It really was him – her husband, in Paris.
‘Ah, there you are,’ he said amiably, waving as she approached. ‘Thought I’d surprise you. You’re actually staying here for one more night – with me, this time. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Mind?’ she said faintly, her mind still registering his words. Then her mouth fell open and she laughed out loud – a rich, happy laugh of delight. He had actually done this, come all the way here to surprise her. She abandoned her luggage and ran across to him, throwing her arms around him with joy. ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ she cried happily. ‘I was just thinking how much you’d love it here. Oh, Hugh, I can’t believe this! So who’s looking after the children?’
‘Sandra,’ he said. He looked incredibly proud of himself. ‘We hatched a plot together. Thank you,’ he said, as the receptionist handed over a key. He held it up and winked. ‘Well, Mrs Jones,’ he said. ‘Ma chérie. Shall we go and unpack?’
Lucy Diamond’s
Breakfast Recipes
For me, one of the best things about staying at a bed and breakfast is the actual breakfast. The thread count of the sheets? I’m not interested. The monsoon shower? Whatever. The thing that gets my seal of approval is a proper delicious breakfast to start the day. I’d be very happy to tuck into any of the recipes below, especially if served with a cup of tea, a newspaper and preferably an amazing sea view
Eggs Benedict
Here’s a confession: I am not very good at poaching eggs, despite repeated attempts. Mine always resemble misshapen white ghosts in the pan rather than perfect rounded beauties. Hopefully you are more competent than me though, and can impress your friends and family with this breakfast classic.
Purists have their Eggs Benedict with bacon or ham, but my favourite variation is with smoked salmon. For a vegetarian alternative (Eggs Florentine), you can use 250g of spinach wilted in a little olive oil over a high heat instead.
Serves 2
4 large eggs
3 tbsp white wine vinegar
2 toasting muffins
4 slices smoked salmon (or ham, or bacon)
Hollandaise Sauce
2 large egg yolks
1 dessertspoon lemon juice
1 dessertspoon white wine vinegar
115g butter
1. Start by making the hollandaise sauce. Blend the egg yolks in a food processor or blender for about a minute.
2. Heat the lemon juice and white wine vinegar in a pan
until it begins to bubble.
3. Add this mixture to the egg yolks in a slow stream, while the blender is running.
4. Melt the butter over a gentle heat. Once it starts foaming, pour it slowly into the egg mixture, again while the blender is switched on. Slow, steady pouring is the key here!
5. Leave the sauce to one side now while you poach the eggs. Fill a deep saucepan with water and add the vinegar. When boiling, swirl the water to create a vortex (trying not to scald yourself in the process).
6. Break an egg and tip it in, holding the shell as close to the surface as possible.
7. Cook for about 2 minutes and remove with a slotted spoon. (Or, of course, buy yourself an egg poacher and use that, which is what I really should do here.)
8. Repeat with the other eggs, one at a time. Meanwhile, split and toast the muffins, then butter them and add a slice of salmon to each.
9. Top each muffin-half with an egg and then pour over the warm hollandaise to taste.
Blueberry Pancakes
Who can resist a fat fluffy pancake in the morning? Even better, these ones have blueberries in them, making them officially healthy. Well, that’s my excuse anyway.
Serves 4
80g butter
250g plain flour
½ tsp salt
3 tsp baking powder
4 tsp caster sugar
2 large eggs
300ml whole milk
A few handfuls of blueberries, plus some extra to serve
Greek yoghurt
Runny honey or maple syrup to serve
1. Melt the butter over a low heat.
2. Sift the flour, salt and baking powder into a bowl, add the sugar, then form a well in the centre.
3. Beat the eggs, mix with the milk and 2 tablespoons of the melted butter then gradually pour this mixture into the flour, stirring to form a thick batter.
4. Grease a non-stick frying pan with a little of the melted butter and put it on a moderate heat.
5. Fold the blueberries into the batter then spoon 4 separate tablespoons of batter into the pan, leaving space between them.
6. Cook for a minute or so until bubbles begin to appear on the surface, then flip over and cook the other side for another minute.
7. Stack on a plate until all the batter is used up, re-greasing the pan with melted butter between each batch.
8. Serve each pancake with a dollop of yoghurt and fresh blueberries, and drizzle over the honey or syrup to taste.
By the same author
Any Way You Want Me
Over You
Hens Reunited
Sweet Temptation
The Beach Café
Summer with My Sister
Acknowledgements
Enormous thanks to my family, who put up with me while I was writing this book: my husband Martin, and my children Hannah, Tom and Holly. You are all brilliant and lovely people, and I am lucky to have you.
Thanks to the fabulous Lizzy Kremer, my agent, for pep talks, ‘compliment sandwiches’ and all your help. I’m so glad to have you on my side. And thank you, gorgeous Rowan Coleman for introducing us in the first place! The rest of the team at David Higham are wonderful too – thank you, Laura, Ania, Tine and Harriet for all your work on my behalf. I appreciate every single bit of it.
Thank you to my fantastic publishers, Pan Macmillan, in particular Jenny Geras for your wise and perceptive editorial input (and lovely lunches). I’d also like to thank Natasha, Ali, Chloe, Isolde, Jeremy, Geoff and Matt – what a brilliant team. It’s an absolute pleasure to work with you all.
Thanks to everyone at the Bay Hotel in Lyme Regis, which is where I finished writing the last chapters and finally discovered how the story was going to end (thank goodness! It was touch and go at times). Your eggs Benedict breakfast is amazing – every author should start the day with one.
Thanks to the genius children (who wish to remain unnamed) for letting me pinch their carefully crafted Scooby-Doo lyrics, which weren’t at all annoying when sung repeatedly on long car journeys at top volume. I’m certain you all have glittering song-writing careers ahead of you. Or perhaps as foghorns?
Thanks to everyone who has emailed or tweeted me to say they’ve enjoyed my books, or has come to a book signing and told me in person. Your support makes all the hard slog worthwhile. Thank you so much.
Last but definitely not least, a million thanks to Mum, Dad, Phil, Ellie, Fiona, Saba and Ian. You all rock.
First published 2013 by Macmillan
This electronic edition published 2013 by Pan Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-4472-3769-3
Copyright © Lucy Diamond 2013
The right of Lucy Diamond to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The Macmillan Group has no responsibility for the information provided by any author websites whose address you obtain from this book (‘author websites’). The inclusion of author website addresses in this book does not constitute an endorsement by or association with us of such sites or the content, products, advertising or other materials presented on such sites.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Visit www.panmacmillan.com to read more about all our books and to buy them. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters so that you’re always first to hear about our new releases.
