My smile has all the strength of milky tea.
‘Look …’ She tucks a loose lock of hair behind my ear. ‘Love is always a risk; it’s giving another person the power to destroy you and hoping they choose not to, but when it goes right …’ I don’t even think she’s aware that as she says this, her gaze drifts towards Christopher. ‘When it goes right, it’s like falling through stars.’
For a while, the party moves around me, and I sit on the edge, drinking it all in. Then I pick up a copy of One Small Mistake and slip into the children’s section around the corner, settling down on a huge floor cushion. I just need a minute to myself.
I’m still haunted by nightmares of what happened. But like the bruises, they’ve faded. People want me to hate Jack. It makes them uncomfortable to think I don’t. But he was not just a murderer. Not just my captor. It is not just black and white. It is grey because Jack was not a cartoon villain. He was a person with a past that moulded him. This is not an excuse, it is fact. So I cannot hate him. Just as I cannot undo what happened.
I still dream of him … we are children racing down the hill towards the small beach and plunging into the sea, shrieking against the slap of cold water. We are teenagers joyriding in a vintage Cadillac, his strong fingers, like tree roots in earth, lacing through mine. He is twenty-something, sketching all the places we are going to live together when we leave Crosshaven. There were always two sides to him, light and dark, and I think, over time, I can forgive them both.
I imagine him here with me now. The him I knew before the abduction, before he killed Noah, when he was confidence and challenge and that last square of dark chocolate melting on your tongue. I see him sitting crossed-legged on the cushion opposite mine, all golden curls and cheekbones, the leather and sandalwood scent of him all around.
‘We pulled it off,’ he tells me.
I hold One Small Mistake in my hands, feel the weight of it, the importance; it is the paper and binding and validation I wanted for so long. Even though I am proud of what Ada and I created together, there is a sombre current – the reality that Jack is not here to see it and never will be.
‘Life’s too long to be unhappy,’ he says.
‘Sometimes it’s too short.’
He shrugs.
‘I’m not unhappy,’ I tell him. ‘I just miss you. Miss the way we were. It’s hard. After everything, getting through each day is still hard.’
‘You’re talented, and ambitious and brave.’
I feel the sting of tears.
He smiles. ‘See you in a better world, Fray.’
‘Goodbye, Jack.’
I close my eyes, listening to the rise and fall of chatter in the next room, allowing myself only one more moment of Jack Westwood before I join them.
He promised me once, the morning after I let Margot believe I had a book deal, that I would get published, even if it killed him, even if it killed us both. We didn’t know then how right he was, and he was right about so much.
Except for one thing.
I didn’t need a love that burns. That consumes. That blisters and melts the skin from my bones. I needed this. The love I have with my family. My friends. My living, laughing, breathing sister. And maybe someday, the love I’ll have with another man. What I need now and what I’ll need always, is a love that washes over me like river water. That soothes. A love I can bathe in.
Acknowledgements
Infinite thanks to Thérèse Coen of Hardman and Swainson, agent, therapist and friend, for all the time and love and effort you’ve poured into me. I couldn’t have done this without you.
To my kind and marvellous editor, Hannah Smith, who I adored instantly. I’ll be forever grateful that you scooped up me and my story, so I didn’t have to go to the same desperate measures as Elodie. Thank you to the talented Jen Porter and everyone at Embla Books for believing in Elodie and Ada’s tale and taking it out into the wild.
Thanks to Jennifer Crichton of The Flock for showing me that the hardest stories to tell are the most powerful and freeing to write.
Gratitude to Binny, Claire F, Claire L, Dawn, Hannah O-F, John T, Rachel, Rupert, Sarah, Sophie and all the fantastic staff at KES who have supported my dream. And to Andrew for all the car chats.
Thank you to Mrs Fernie, my Year 2 teacher, who first saw in me a talent for writing and encouraged me to pursue it. Without you, I don’t know if I’d have started down this path.
To Lucy and Mel who’ve been reading my stories since we were fifteen years old. Thank you for believing in me when I couldn’t believe in myself. For sharing in all the tears and frustrations, in the doubts and the eventual undiluted bliss this writing journey has brought. I wouldn’t have survived if it wasn’t for you both. And to Hazel, Jo W and Tiff who have cheered me on.
Many thanks to Jo Nadin and Rachel Delahaye, both wonderful women and authors, who devoured this manuscript, offered smart advice and heartfelt critique – I’m a better writer for it.
To my sister, Charlotte, who shares my features if not my love of reading. I’m lucky to have a sibling who celebrates my achievements. You told me that one day you’d hold a copy of my book in your hands. You were right. Big sisters always know best.
Love to my beautiful niece, Millie, whose imagination rivals my own.
Thanks to my parents who have only ever wanted me to follow whichever path in life I felt was best. I’m so grateful that, unlike Elodie’s parents, neither of you told me I was making a mistake when I put my publishing career on hold to write. To my dad, who is a man of few words but read every one I wrote as a little girl. Sitting with you, writing stories about magic spider webs, are some of the happiest memories of my childhood. And to my mum, who is a woman of many words, all of them full of praise, love and wit, thank you for reading everything I’ve ever written and for teaching me to fight for my dreams.
And finally, an extra special thank you to Josh, my fiancé, for all your brilliance, belief and optimism. Of all the stories in all the world, you’ve made ours the best one to live. I love you. Always.
A Note from the Author
Thank you for taking the time to read One Small Mistake. I hope there was something in this book you could relate to. Just like Elodie, I put my career on hold to focus on my writing. Fortunately, my parents were supportive, but there were people in my life who weren’t, who insisted I was naive to think I’d ever be a published author. That I’d made one huge mistake. It was that feeling of crushing inadequacy and desperation that inspired Elodie’s story. Although I’d never advise going to the extreme lengths she did, if there’s one thing I’ve taken away from this wild, terrifying, exhilarating writing journey, it’s to never give up on your ambitions. Those, alongside the people who believe in you, are the shafts of sunlight that break through a drizzly sky. Bathe in them.