Seven Days of Us(91)
Her phone buzzed, on silent. Thinking it might be Caspar, she checked it surreptitiously under the table. But it was a text from George: Happy New Year, Phoebles. Miss you. An in-breath of cacao powder nearly choked her. Fuck you, she typed immediately, then stopped and deleted. She didn’t feel angry like that—it was all too distant. One day, she knew, she and George would have to meet for a stilted drink on neutral ground. But it wouldn’t make any difference—that whole chapter already felt like memory. Just as she was switching her phone to silent, Olivia came in. And without even thinking about it, Phoebe jumped up and hugged her—not one of their stiff, A-shaped hugs, but a real, boob-meshing hug.
Olivia
THE KITCHEN, 34 GLOUCESTER TERRACE, CAMDEN, 11:54 P.M.
? ? ?
Olivia sat back from the table, holding the token inch of champagne Andrew had poured her. Her whole body still hurt, like she’d been smashed into. But Phoebe had been right to urge her to come down. She’d always thought it was better to cry in private, but now she wondered if she was wrong. Seeing how nervous they all looked, she told them to see in the New Year as usual with the bongs on the radio. She actually wanted some normalness around her—anything to cushion the feeling of freefall.
With a spark and splintering sound, the room went black. The voice on the radio stopped. “Power cut!” said Phoebe.
Her father flicked on the torch in his Swiss army knife, opened the fuse box in the corner, and fiddled with the switches. Nothing happened. “Must be the whole street,” he said, looking out the window. He took matches and candlesticks from the side, lit a candle, and put it in front of Olivia. He held up the match to watch the flame dwindle. “Still reminds me of Afghanistan,” he said, and then looked at her as if he shouldn’t have said anything. She took a tiny sip of champagne.
“How come? You never tell us the whole story,” she said. It was the first time she’d spoken since coming down. The candle flared, and she saw Emma, Phoebe, and Jesse looking at her in surprise, and then at Andrew. And as he began to tell the story, she thought, It’s going to be hard. But I won’t be alone.
Epilogue
Seamus Andrew Coughlan Birch,
born August 17, 2017, 1:03 a.m.
Acknowledgments
A huge thank-you to my agent, Olivia Guest at Jonathan Clowes, for encouraging me to write something longer than an article and for believing in this idea. Without you, I would have put fiction off for years. Thank you also to Cara Lee Simpson for being so brilliant during Olivia’s leave, and to Ann Clowes for your time, advice, and expertise.
Second, thank you to everyone at Little, Brown for making me feel so welcome—above all, Emma Beswetherick. You are the most enthusiastic, astute, and understanding editor anyone could ask for—a fairy godmother of editors—and it has been such a pleasure to work together. I’m also enormously indebted to Andy Hine, Kate Hibbert, Helena Doree, Sarah Birdsey, and Joe Dowley at Little, Brown Rights for your tireless work. I’m thrilled to be published in so many other countries. Special thank-yous, too, to Dominic Wakeford and Ella Bowman for your advice and excitement about the book, and to Ursula Mackenzie, Charlie King, and Tim Whiting.
Third, thank you to everyone at Berkley in New York—I’m delighted to be part of the Penguin US family. A particular thank-you to Claire Zion, Jeanne-Marie Hudson, Craig Burke, Diana Franco, Lauren Burnstein, Danielle Dill, Jennifer Monroe, and most of all my editor, Amanda Bergeron. Your positivity, suggestions, and eye for rogue Britishisms were invaluable.
Next, I must thank my mother, Laura, my husband, Luke, and my dear friend Laura Cox-Watson. I’m so very lucky to have such clever plot consultants and early readers close by. I also owe a great deal to my parents and parents-in-law for all the hours you looked after Finlay and Max, which allowed me to keep writing up until my due date, and soon afterward. I’m deeply grateful to you all.
Finally, thank you to my oldest friends Felicity FitzGerald and Charity Garnett, both for sparking this story through your heroic work in Sierra Leone, and for your help with getting it down accurately. Your courage, kindness, and knowledge are awe-inspiring.
And another thank-you to Luke, for everything.