‘But what about the drunk driving charge?’
‘They dropped that too. There’s no proof. The empty bottle they found could have been there for a while. They were going to charge you with leaving the scene of an accident, but I convinced them to let you go home, that you’ve been put through enough.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Of course, there’s the issue of the false identity but that’s something that the St Lucia authorities will need to decide upon.’
‘So… so I’m going home?’
‘Yes, you can get back to your life.’ She leaned forward and touched his hand. ‘Bet you can’t wait to get back to the sunshine!’
Ronnie looked at her. He still wasn’t sure he had heard right. That this was really happening. But for the first time he decided to have faith that his life was really turning for the better. That he could finally put that horrible accident behind him.
Epilogue
Three months later
The sun was so bright that it hurt Bea’s eyes. She put her oversized sunglasses on and gazed at the endless blue sky, the aquamarine water rippling in the light breeze. The birds chirped in the trees surrounding her, a melodic sound that helped her relax.
Not that she needed much assistance. The last few months had been among the most content of her life. She often found herself humming merrily, a smile plastered on her face. She barely even needed to use make-up – happiness made her complexion glow, her eyes sparkle. Even her hair was shining healthily.
Her phone pinged. Bea squinted at the screen, her lips curling upwards when she saw Helen’s name pop up. She opened the message and rolled her eyes but her smile didn’t fade.
Sos! Baby pink or orchid pink flowers for the tables?
Attached were two photos of quasi-identical floral arrangements. Perhaps it was the sunshine playing tricks on her eyes or she was still tipsy from the rum cocktails she’d had the night before, but Bea couldn’t see the difference.
They both look lovely. I’d probably go with the baby pink. What did Sandra say? She’s got a better eye than me.
Bea had got used to these texts. Helen was always asking her and Sandra to help with decisions on minute details for her upcoming wedding. It had started with a cake tasting, a gluttonous experience that Bea had thoroughly enjoyed. Then Helen had asked them to go to one of her wedding dress fittings. Soon, it seemed that she was sending them texts and emails before every decision she needed to make. And there were a lot of them!
She felt a pair of arms around her waist and a strong body resting against her back. ‘You’re up early,’ he said. ‘I missed you.’
‘It’s just so beautiful here.’ She leaned back and allowed him to nuzzle her neck, relishing the closeness. ‘I wanted to take it all in.’ She turned to face him.
His hair was tousled, as it always was when he woke up. His cheek was lined with creases from sleeping. She traced the lines with her fingers, enjoying the feeling of his stubble. John smiled and kissed her gently on the lips.
Turning back, she continued staring at the water. In the distance she could see a boat sailing by. A tear sprang to her eye. A year ago all this was only a dream, something that she didn’t even know she wanted.
It was really a chance encounter that started it all. Two days after parting ways in front of the police station, she popped into Christopher’s. She needed some time to herself, a drink before she went back to her empty flat. ‘Is this seat taken?’ came a voice from behind her.
Even before she turned round she recognised him. ‘John! Fancy meeting you here!’
He sat down, crossing his long legs. ‘I had a meeting close by. Popped into the pub across the street but it was jammed. Decided to come here instead. Guess today’s my lucky day.’
For a couple of hours they sat at the bar, talking. About the past, the years they lived together. Their lives since then. Bea found herself telling him all about her boring day at work. It was as if time sped by and before she realised it was late.
‘I had a great time,’ he said as he opened the door of a taxi for her. ‘I’m leaving for a short work trip tomorrow, but how about meeting up next week? Same time same place.’
Bea nodded enthusiastically. ‘That’d be great. See you then.’
The next days seemed endless, until finally they met again. And again. And again. Until it was obvious that they were not simply old friends. They were much more.
‘Do you think he’s here today?’ she asked him, turning and shielding her eyes from the bright St Lucia sun.
John shrugged. ‘I imagine. At least that’s what the other bartender said yesterday.’ With gentle fingers he tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. ‘Are you sure you want to see him?’
Bea closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, allowing the air to fill her lungs. It was a question she had asked herself a million times on the flight over. Ever since they’d decided to go on this trip. Their first trip together.
‘You’re going to track him down!’ Sandra had put down her mug when Bea had told her. She often came to meet Bea for coffee. Sometimes Helen would join. They’d talk about their days. Sandra would tell Bea about the children, Louis, her charity work. And Bea would talk about her job, her family. And John. ‘I’m glad to see you so happy,’ Sandra had said when Bea had told her about their budding relationship. ‘You deserve this.’
Leaning against John’s chest, Bea sighed. ‘Yes, I want to see him. I want to know who he is, beyond the photos in newspapers. I want to look him in the eye and tell him who I am.’
There was more that she wanted to tell Ronnie Moss but that she knew she never would. She wanted to tell him about Sebastian, about the person whose life he took. But she also wanted to thank him for the life she had now. Because she knew, if Ronnie Moss hadn’t been caught, she wouldn’t be this happy.
We hope you enjoyed this book.
Cynthia Clark’s next book is coming in 2019
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Acknowledgements
The idea for We All Fall Down struck as I was walking through London's St James Park on a beautiful day in July 2016. Ella Wren and Raina Neave were only three months old and sleeping soundly, giving me a few precious minutes to start wrapping my mind around the thoughts that must have been brewing during that sleepless period. So, thank you E&R for that particular nap that allowed inspiration to strike and flourish.
Of course, this book would not have come to fruition without my agent, Laetitia Rutherford, who, the following day, helped me develop my still jumbled up thoughts into a synopsis that led to a two-book deal with Aria. I am also deeply grateful to Sarah Ritherdon, my editor, who helped me turn the first draft of We All Fall down into the story you're reading today. Her guidance has been indispensable, as have her unfaltering support and enthusiasm.
The reason I write is because my parents helped cultivate my imagination and fuelled my creativity. They taught me, at a young age, to love books, to always make it a point to find time to read. It is the same passion for the written word that I'm hoping to instil in my daughters.
I am grateful to the readers of my first book, If You Only Knew, who gave me the push I needed to persevere in writing and excitement to tell this story.
We All Fall Down was written at a time of change, after my family bid farewell to London and moved back to the United States. My in-laws, Jack and Louise, helped immensely, taking care of the children to give me time to write.
And finally, there is no other person who I need to thank more than my husband, Justin. He was the one who stood behind and encouraged my decision to take a career break to fulfil my dream of writing a book. His enthusiasm was unwavering and it is only bec
ause of him that this book is in your hands. Thank you for being my biggest supporter.
About Cynthia Clark
CYNTHIA CLARK was born and brought up in Malta, where she graduated in Communications and went to work for a daily newspaper. She has since lived in the US, where she worked as a writer in online business journals. She and her husband now live in London with their twin daughters.
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Addictive Fiction
First published in the United Kingdom in 2018 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Cynthia Clark, 2018
The moral right of Cynthia Clark to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
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, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (E) 9781786699664
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