The Getaway: A holiday romance for 2021 - perfect summer escapism!

by Isabelle Broom

  Isabelle Broom was born in Cambridge nine days before the

  1980s began and studied Media Arts in London before a

  12-year stint at Heat magazine. Always happiest when she is off

  on an adventure, Isabelle now travels all over the world seeking

  out settings for her escapist novels, as well as making the annual

  pilgrimage to her second home – the Greek island of Zakynthos.

  Currently based in Suffolk, where she shares a cottage with her

  two dogs and approximately 467 spiders, Isabelle fits her writing

  around a busy freelance career and tries her best not to be

  crushed to oblivion under her ever-growing pile of to-be-read

  books.

  To find out more about Izzy and her books, read excerpts,

  view location galleries and gain access to exclusive giveaways,

  you can sign up to her monthly newsletter via her website,

  isabellebroom.com.

  Also by Isabelle Broom

  Hello, Again

  My Map of You

  A Year and a Day

  Then. Now. Always.

  The Place We Met

  One Thousand Stars and You

  One Winter Morning

  The Getaway

  Isabelle Broom

  www.hodder.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain in 2021 by Hodder & Stoughton

  An Hachette UK company

  Copyright © Isabelle Broom 2021

  The right of Isabelle Broom to be identified as the Author of

  the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with

  the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Cover photographs © Getty Images

  Cover design by Becky Glibbery © Hodder & Stoughton

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

  stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any

  means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be

  otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that

  in which it is published and without a similar condition being

  imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance

  to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  eBook ISBN 978 1 529 32513 3

  Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.hodder.co.uk

  For my friend, Katie Marsh.

  Contents

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Dear Josh,

  Part Two

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Dear Josh,

  Part Three

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Like most people, Kate Nimble was aware that your life was supposed to flash before your eyes in the moments before you died. But she did not know that the opposite was also true. That when you were perhaps more alive than you ever had been before, everything slowed down to a painful crawl.

  Every note of the song you had chosen especially.

  Every expression on the upturned faces of your friends and family.

  And every second that the man you had just asked to marry you did not reply with a ‘yes’.

  Kate forced herself to focus on James. His mouth was open, unhinged no doubt by a mixture of shock and embarrassment. Like her, he seemed to have lost the ability to speak. If only this particular affliction had come to her earlier – before she had pulled at that chair, clambered onto it and called the room to attention.

  ‘I, er . . .’ James gestured around helplessly; his raised arm as flaccid as a sodden flag.

  Kate knew that she should move, that she should say something – anything; that she should get down from this pedestal of mortification. But she couldn’t. Her limbs were leaden, her feet stuck fast.

  ‘I think that . . . What I mean is . . .’ James went on. He sounded helpless.

  Kate was beginning to shake. The familiar corners of the pub’s dingy function room felt as if they were closing in. A number of people had their phones raised; the ramifications of this were too awful to contemplate.

  ‘Excuse me, move aside, coming through.’

  Another voice, stern yet soothing. Kate’s best friend Robyn had pushed her way past the semicircle of assembled guests and was approaching at speed.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Let’s get you down.’

  A sob had wedged itself into Kate’s throat and she forced it free with a laugh.

  ‘Sorry everyone,’ she called out, catching the heel of her shoes on the hem of her skirt as Robyn half-lifted, half-dragged her off the chair. ‘I was only joking.’

  She braved a glance at James, but her boyfriend was staring at the floor.

  ‘It was just a joke,’ she repeated, her voice cracking as Robyn led her out to the hallway.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ her friend pleaded.

  ‘I’m not,’ said Kate, but she could feel the tears building.

  ‘James must not have heard you properly,’ Robyn went on, in the robust tone of a woman doing her best not only to convince the person she was talking to, but also herself. ‘You just took him by surprise, that’s all. He obviously wasn’t expecting it. Maybe he had a plan of how he wanted to propose to you, so was overwhelmed with a sudden, speechless regret that he hadn’t got there first?’

  Kate shivered.

  ‘The good news,’ her friend said meaningfully, ‘is that he didn’t actually say no, did he?’ She was twisting a strand of her dark hair around on her finger as she spoke, her pale face pinched with concern. ‘Maybe he wanted the moment to be a private one. I mean, he has never been one to draw attention to himself, has he? That must be it – he is simply embarrassed.’

  Kate pursed her lips to dam her tears. Horror, l
ike molten lava, was mounting inside her chest.

  James had not said no. But he hadn’t said yes either.

  ‘Shall I go and get him?’ Robyn asked. Then, when Kate did not respond. ‘You’ll both be laughing about this in a mo, you’ll see.’

  A leap of faith. That’s what Kate had called her plan. She’d allowed herself to believe she would get what she wanted from James if she could only pluck up enough courage to ask him for it. But she hadn’t done it right; she should have proposed on the final day of February, during a leap year. Not in the middle of a random April. Those were the rules. She hadn’t even been able to get that simple thing right.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  The door into the corridor opened and James emerged, a rather pained expression on his face.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Kate said, folding her arms. ‘You don’t need to look at me like that.’

  ‘Like what?’ He took a hesitant step closer.

  ‘Like I’m an unexploded bomb that might go off at any second.’

  ‘I just thought that yo––’ he began, to which Kate scoffed.

  ‘I told you, I’m fine. OK, so I just stood on a chair in front of practically everyone we know, on my thirtieth birthday, no less, and asked you if you’d like to marry me. To which you said nothing. Not one single coherent word. So, yeah, I’m just peachy, James; I have never been better.’

  ‘Please don’t get upset,’ he said, as Kate was again forced to fight a treacherous trembling in her upper lip. ‘I just wish you’d told me that you were planning this; then I could have—’

  ‘The whole point of a surprise proposal is that it’s supposed to come as a surprise,’ she countered. ‘I wanted it to be romantic.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ James seemed unable to look at her; his eyes were darting from the ground, to the radiator on the wall, to his own fingers twisting together in agitation. ‘I didn’t want to do this now,’ he muttered. ‘But maybe I should. I don’t know.’

  Kate couldn’t tell if he was addressing her or talking to himself, so she remained silent, studying him as he fought to make sense of whatever internal battle was raging inside him.

  ‘Maybe it’s a good thing this has happened,’ he said eventually.

  ‘It is?’

  Hope bobbed up like a balloon in the space between them.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied carefully. ‘Because it’s made me realise that I need to be honest with you about what’s been going on. You know, about how things are with us.’

  ‘What about us?’ Kate’s stomach churned unpleasantly.

  ‘Well . . .’ James paused to inhale deeply. ‘Things haven’t been right for a while now. Not since we found out abo–– Well, the thing is, we’ve been growing apart since before then.’ He was looking not at Kate as he spoke, but at his shoes – those whiter-than-white trainers that he cleaned after every wear, more often than not raiding the bathroom cabinet for her face wipes in order to do so.

  ‘Growing apart?’ Kate pulled a face. ‘No, we haven’t.’

  ‘Come on, Kate – you know we have.’

  ‘And so this is, what?’ she countered. ‘Your way of saying we need to work on a few things? Of course we do, James – all couples have issues from time to time, and after everything we’ve been through recently, it’s understandable that you might be feeling, I don’t know, disconnected from me. Is that it? Because we can fix that.’

  James did not say anything; he merely winced.

  ‘Oh my god.’ Kate raised a hand to her mouth. ‘You’re not? This isn’t? You’re not dumping me?’

  A grimace.

  ‘Don’t say it like that. You make it sound as if I’m taking you out with the bins.’

  ‘You may as well be.’

  Kate’s tone was becoming increasingly shrill, but she could no longer control it – no longer wanted to control it. She felt strangely as though she had left her body and was now perched up on the radiator beside them instead, watching but not partaking in this charade. Because that is what it must be. James could not actually be saying these things.

  ‘I’m concerned that neither of us will get the things we want if we stay together,’ he said, glancing up when she did not immediately reply. ‘You know that as well as I do.’

  ‘I do not. I know no such thing.’

  Her disgruntlement might well be as tough as tarmac, but now the anxiety was bulldozing through. Kate found herself abruptly overcome by an unsteadying wave of nausea.

  ‘We don’t have to get married,’ she hastened, making a grab for his hand. ‘We’re fine as we are – I just got carried away, what with freaking out about turning thirty and losing another bloody job. I only decided to propose to you about half an hour ago. It didn’t even occur to me before then. And I’m honestly happy as we are,’ she insisted, cutting across him as he began to interrupt. ‘We can work on all the things you think are broken. We can’t just give up, James,’ she said firmly, squeezing his fingers between her own. ‘We’ve come this far, haven’t we? Eight years must count for something.’

  ‘It’s not giving up,’ he said, removing one of his hands from hers to fuss unconsciously at the rapidly thinning hair on his crown. His ‘Prince William patch’, Kate called it. It was the only part of her boyfriend that hinted at vulnerability and she loved it – loved him.

  ‘All I’m saying is that I think it’s time we accept the facts,’ he continued. ‘I know you’ve been trying – we both have; we’ve both tried really hard for a really long time now. But that’s the thing: we shouldn’t have to try. It shouldn’t be this hard.’

  He was speaking so quietly that Kate had to lean forward in order to hear him. The party had continued apparently, despite all the drama she had caused.

  ‘It’s not as if either of us has done anything to hurt the other,’ James said, sounding as much as if he was trying to persuade himself as he was Kate. ‘There’s no reason why we can’t stay friends.’

  He eased his other hand out from her grasp, leaving Kate’s cold and clammy.

  Who was this man standing here in front of her, saying these things, striking these blows? He looked and sounded and even smelled like James, but how could it be the same person?

  ‘But you are hurting me; you’re hurting me right now,’ she whispered, thinking in miserable desolation of the plans they had made and of the home they shared, with its collection of framed movie posters, harmonious scatter cushions and colourful spread of kitchen tiles. She pictured the photo on their living-room wall; saw the smiling couple inside the frame – him tall, lean and serious; her round-edged, wild haired and smiling. That captured moment was already becoming less substantial than a memory, their shared love relegated to a past tense.

  ‘But it’s my birthday,’ she said in a small voice. ‘You can’t break up with me on my birthday.’

  James was looking sheepish. ‘I didn’t exactly plan this, you know. I was going to wait a few weeks before I said anything.’

  Kate watched in silence as he chewed over the next few words.

  ‘But then you got up in there and . . . you know. I definitely didn’t see that coming. I mean, how could I? I thought if a woman proposes, she’s supposed to do it in a leap year.’

  Kate pushed her bottom lip upwards morosely.

  ‘Whatever, anyway,’ he went on. ‘The point is, I knew as soon as you said the words that I couldn’t lie to you anymore. Things just suddenly became very clear.’

  ‘Things?’ she prompted faintly, staring with unseeing eyes at a patch of peeling wallpaper.

  ‘All our friends’ lives are moving forward and I feel as if we’re being left behind,’ James said. He seemed to be choosing his words now with delicate care and kept pausing to clear his throat.

  Kate was struck by an absurd compulsion to shout at him for not covering his mouth, but knew that if she started yelling, she might never stop.

  ‘I’m not blaming you.’

/>   But he was. Because it was her fault. Of the two of them, it was she who was the failure.

  Kate had begun to shake; she could no longer stand still and began to pace up and down the narrow corridor in agitation. There was a window at the far end, the sky beyond the glass as black as ash.

  ‘I think I should stay with my folks tonight,’ James said, moving slowly away from her.

  Kate swallowed another sob. ‘Please don’t. Let’s at least sleep on it. This isn’t the time or place for this conversation – our parents are in the next room, for god’s sake. All our friends are here.’

  James paused at the door to the function room. The fact that the party was still ongoing felt to Kate like a betrayal. The wider world should have stopped spinning, just as her own had.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he began, but Kate shook her head, dismissing his words. Moistening the tip of her index finger, she began rubbing furiously at a sticky splatter on the windowsill, thinking that if she stayed here in this spot, cleaning this stain, she would not have to watch him leave; would not see him tell their guests what had happened, or know when he headed down the stairs and out into the night without her.

  Only when she heard the click of the door closing did Kate stop; only when the muffled sound of voices followed did she crumple, and only when she felt Robyn’s arms wrap around her did she finally give in to the tears.

  Chapter 2

  Like an errant boulder careering down the side of a mountain, life somehow continued on as it always did. But while the rest of the world’s inhabitants went about their daily business of showering, dressing and commuting to their respective places of work, Kate remained where she had fled to the night of her party, back at her parents’ house with a duvet pulled up over her face.

  A short time ago, when she’d still had a boyfriend, a future, a purpose, Kate had been able to laugh about the fact that she had been made redundant. Again. Now it did not seem funny in the slightest – nothing did. She had done her best to laugh both hard and often for her entire life, believing it to be the simplest cure to most of the things that ailed her, and had always been able to poke fun at herself. But ever since James had walked away from her, abandoning their relationship with what felt like barely a backward glance, Kate could not bear to smile, let alone muster the amount of energy required for a laugh. She missed it; missed laughter.