Just Haven't Met You Yet(101)
“What was I saying?” I ask, light-headed, when he finally puts me down.
“You asked about my day.” He smiles. “It was fine, emotional, but I’ll stay in touch with everyone, I hope. How did the interview go with Suki and Jasper?”
“Bizarre,” I say. “I still can’t get my head around those two together. Nothing about them as a couple makes any sense, but then you see the way they look at each other and—”
“Kablammo?”
“Well, yes. Vanya says Suki’s completely changed; she even lets people work remotely now, mainly because she’s in Jersey half the time herself. Oh, before I forget—Dee rang. She, Neil, and baby Isaac are all going to come and stay next weekend, Vanya too, so they’ll all be there for the exhibition launch. We might put Vanya in the house and the others in the cottage—apparently Isaac’s a terrible sleeper and is up half the night with colic.”
“If we ever have a baby, Laura, you do know we won’t be able to relegate it to sleeping in the cottage?”
“Yes, I know, but we’ll cross that sleep-deprived bridge when we come to it, shall we? Dee won’t mind, she loves it there; it’s cozy.”
Jasper pauses, unzipping his backpack to retrieve his copper bracelet from an inner pocket, then he fastens it back onto his wrist. He’s not allowed to wear jewelry on shift, but otherwise, he wears it all the time. I made it for him; it’s a plain copper band with his half of the coin embedded in the front.
“I’ve got so much to organize before the jewelry exhibition next weekend. It might have been ambitious to think we could move everything out of my flat, get all our things over on the ferry, and plan the launch of my first official collection, all in the same week,” I say, hugging his arm tight into mine as we walk along the damp pavement.
“Well, Ilídio’s made all the display cabinets already, and Sandy’s invited half the island to the opening. It will be fine, don’t worry,” says Ted.
“Do you think Gerry will be able to make it?” I ask, turning to see Ted’s face in the streetlight. He pulls my hand up to his lips and kisses it.
“He’ll be there, Laura. We’ll all be there for you.”
And I know, as I have for a while now, that this man will be there for me, as long as I want him to be, as I will be there for him.
I have no illusions about happily ever afters—I know life will bring its challenges and nothing is forever—but I hope we might be happy today, and for as many todays as we are lucky enough to have.
Acknowledgments
Do you read the acknowledgments at the end of a book? You do? Yay, me too. I know, some people like to get a little glimpse of what goes on beneath the bonnet of a book, so here is a little peek into the people and places who helped get Laura’s story on the road.
Firstly, the person who always points me in the right direction, my steering wheel, my agent and friend, Clare Wallace. Thank you for your sound advice and your patient ear. Secondly, the wheels of the book, without whom this story wouldn’t have gone anywhere—the fabulous teams at Arrow and Putnam—Sonny Marr, Kate Dresser, and Tricja Okuniewska, who all helped craft various drafts of this story. Amelia Evans, who took the rights to the US. I have included a list of publishing credits over the page so I can thank every single member of US Team Just Haven’t Met You Yet.
My husband, Tim, I’m going to say you’re the heated seat in this car analogy, supporting me all the way. Thank you for always filling our car with petrol, literally and metaphorically— you are a hero. Traci O’Dea, my friend and fellow writer, I think you were my GPS system on this one. I always value your perceptive and intelligent criticism. If you are interested in poetry, look Traci up, she’s enormously talented.
The body of the car—the story itself—was born from so many things, but for his part, I must thank Andrew Garton, who talked to me about his experience of living with Parkinson’s. Gerry is not Andrew, but I would never have written a character like Gerry if I had not met Andrew—I’m not sure I would have believed such sanguine wisdom existed. Andrew is a cabinet maker, and I wrote this element into the story after being lucky enough to see inside his workshop. Andrew, I hope I have managed to convey a little of your life philosophy in these pages.
Also making up the body of the car; the island of Jersey. I moved here seven years ago and have fallen in love with the history, the beaches, and the people who I now call my friends. It feels such a responsibility to set a book in the place where you live, to do a place justice, which of course, my words cannot, but I hope Islanders will see the Jersey they know in these pages. If you didn’t know much about the Channel Islands before, I hope this story might inspire you to learn more or even come and visit.
My friends and family, my in-car entertainment—keeping me sane and singing as I drive along. I miss seeing you all more often. My invaluable support network of writer friends, Debut20, 2020Debuts, and The Savvy’s.
Finally, and most important, you, my readers, my passengers in the car. I hope you enjoyed going on this journey. Writing this, I often worried who on earth was going to appreciate my weird sense of humor, who would want to read a book about flying tampons, Phil Collins, and coat alcoves, all washed down with the serious themes of memory and loss. Hopefully, if you’ve read this far, you might be that person. If you did enjoy this, please do consider leaving a review online. It makes such a huge difference to authors and helps others to discover my books, which in turn helps me write more books! A special shout out to my biggest US fan, Doris Biddix, who I think recommended This Time Next Year to everyone in North Carolina. Thanks for the support, Doris!