She breathes out and there is a sense of release in letting the air go.
She feels something warm being smoothed across her forehead, soft as a feather, brushing across her skin. And then a similar sensation on the back of her hand. She wonders if time has reversed, if she is a little girl again, back in the white wooden bed in the flat above the shop, recovering from scarlet fever, her mother keeping vigil by her side, feeding her sips of sugary drinks, singing her songs, stroking her hair.
She is filled, suddenly, with a sense that there is something she ought to do – something she needs to do – but hard as she tries, she cannot remember what it is. It is somewhere just out of reach, beyond her grasp, and yet she is sure it is there. And just as she is about to give up looking for it, she feels a trickle of air pass slowly through her lips, feels it suck the moisture out of her mouth on its way down her windpipe, feels her chest expand to make room for it, and there is a sense of relief that her body has found the answer.
Emerging out of the darkness, a scene filters into view behind her closed eyes.
It is a meadow, grasses high, variegated flowers in bloom. A cloudless sky, sun shining brightly, bathing the air in a hazy yellow hue. And beneath the blue sky and the burnished sun, in the middle of the meadow, four girls are dancing.
Lily, Jess, Mia, Phoebe. All of them children, all of them dancing, holding hands in a circle, daisy chains in their hair like woodland nymphs, their movements illuminated by an ethereal glow.
They are happy. They are all safe and they are all happy. She can see it in their smiles, in their laughter, in the clutching of their hands and the motion of their limbs.
And there, standing to one side of the meadow, is Zoe. Zoe is watching them dance and she too is smiling. All of her girls are smiling.
She feels something soft against her cheek, something soft and smooth and warm, and there is comfort in it, a comfort that goes beyond words. And the warmth seeps through her cheek and down her neck, across her shoulders, into her chest, weaving itself through her ribs until her whole body is infused with it.
Behind her closed eyes, she turns her head to follow the movement of her dancing girls, but the glare of the sun bathes the scene in a light too bright for her to penetrate. Too light, too bright for her to see her girls any more.
She watches them disappear and whispers a silent goodbye.
Acknowledgements
Second novels are notoriously tricky beasts, and I owe thanks to an army of people who have encouraged and supported me over the past few years.
Thanks to my agent, Sheila Crowley, who always reassured me that she would stick by me until I found the book I was meant to write: we got there in the end! Thanks to all at Curtis Brown, particularly Abbie Greaves and Luke Speed.
Eternal thanks to my editor, Harriet Bourton, for believing in me and this book. You really are the very best of editors and it’s no exaggeration to say that your creative input has been transformative. If this were an Oscar speech, I would say I was sharing the award with you.
To all at Orion who have been such passionate champions, guardians and promoters of this novel: Poppy Stimpson in publicity and Katie Moss in marketing for their tireless creativity and boundless enthusiasm; Bethan Jones for guiding the book (and me) through the process; Susan Howe, Jessica Purdue and Krystyna Kujawinska in the Rights team for a fantastic line-up of foreign deals; Jen Wilson, Rachael Hum and the whole sales team; Maggy Park, Dominic Smith and the fantastic sales reps; Paul Stark and Amber Bates in Audio; Ruth Sharvell in Production; Charlotte Abrams-Simpson for the gorgeous cover; and the Orion big-wigs, Katie Espiner and Sarah Benton, for allowing me to be published by the best team in the business.
So many people in publishing and journalism have become friends over the past few years (and have often provided me with gainful employment). Thanks to Georgina Moore, Alison Barrow, Charlotte Heathcote, Lisa O’Kelly, Nina Pottell and Sara-Jade Virtue: the profession is so much better for having you all in it. Sincere thanks too to Mari Evans for invaluable advice and encouragement when I was very much in need of it.
To the fellow writers whom I now have the privilege of calling friends: thanks to Amanda Jennings, Maggie O’Farrell and Rachel Joyce.
Particular thanks to my wonderful friend and fellow novelist Lucy Atkins for being the person with whom I first discussed this novel and who helped shape it in so many crucial ways, not to mention being my first reader, and such an incisive one at that. Huge thanks too to Emilya Hall for invaluable notes on an early draft.
For both friendship and patience with my endless medical enquiries, thanks to Joanna Cannon and Adam Kay. Suffice it to say, any medical mistakes are mine.
To my brother and sister-in-law, Matthew and Sally Bush, for their early readings and reassurance that this book was ‘much better than your last.’
Thanks to my step-dad, Jerry Bowler: for all the days I have taken over your study, not to mention your unwavering belief that this book will be a success.
To my mum: thank you for your unstinting love, support and encouragement; for your help with childcare when I’ve been on a deadline; for reading this novel so many times and doing such a great proofread; and for always making it clear that you would be proud of me whatever I did.
To my daughter, Aurelia, who pointed out that she can write a book in two days so why does it take Mummy two years? Thank you for your unbridled enthusiasm every time a new author endorsement came in, for your very honest feedback about various book jackets, and for taking so much pleasure in telling your friends that your mummy is a writer. Keep writing, angel, and I look forward to coming to your book launch one day.
And finally, to my husband, Adam. Being married to a writer is not easy, I know. The wild swings from optimism to despair (often on an hourly basis) would test the most patient of individuals. Luckily, you are the most patient of individuals, not to mention the most loving, supportive and kind. You are a partner in the truest sense and I could not be more grateful for you. Thank you, with all my love.