How We Met (46 page)

The thought, the desire, was so overwhelming that he sat bolt upright and decided that was absolutely what he must do. Then he realized that might scare her to death, so decided to call her instead. But there was no answer and, for a second, panic consumed him. Where was she? Where could she have gone at quarter to two in the morning? Maybe something was terribly wrong? Or maybe she was just ignoring him.

He went to the window on autopilot and pulled the curtains open. That’s when he saw her. She was down below, sitting by the water’s edge, her feet dangling over the side of the canal wall.

She was wearing one of the hotel’s big fluffy robes over her coat for extra warmth, and Fraser smiled to himself. She looked as if she was on day release.

He gazed at her for a second – at her profile, the back of her neck, so elegant with her hair tied up – and felt a swell in his chest so big, he had to catch his breath. Then, without thinking about it too much, he grabbed his keys and left the room, taking the stairs two at a time.

He took the little alleyway at the side of the hotel, then crunched across the pebbles to join her, calling her name so he wouldn’t scare her.

She turned around.

‘Can I join you?’ he said. ‘I should have brought my fluffy robe, too. His and hers.’

She smiled at him.

‘Wow, what a night, eh?’ said Fraser, sitting down beside her, putting his hand on her leg. ‘It’s a quarter to two in the morning, what are you doing out here?’

‘Just thinking’ she said, ‘about how we met, how so much has happened since then …’

Fraser sighed.

‘Yep, and who’d have known what was in front of us, hey? When you jumped on me, hypnotised, on that fated day.’

Mia pressed her lips together and turned to him

‘Fraser, I wasn’t hypnotised …’

‘You weren’t?’

‘Nope.’

‘So why …?’

‘You work it out.’

Fraser frowned at her and smiled, nervously.

They didn’t say anything for a while, they just sat there, staring into the black water, their feet occasionally touching as they swung them.

‘You’re not tired yet then?’ said Fraser eventually. ‘I thought you’d be straight to bed.’

‘Oh, you know,’ said Mia. ‘Didn’t want to risk death by iron wheel. As a group of friends, we don’t seem to have much luck.’

Fraser laughed.

‘Yep, I think it’s fair to say, we’re not invincible. That you just don’t know when it could all be over.’

Fraser turned to her.

‘But it’s not all over, is it?’ he said.

She smiled at him. ‘No, Fraser, it’s not all over.’

‘Do you ever feel like it is, though?’

They were looking straight at one another now, their faces centimetres apart.

‘Yes, sometimes. But then I remind myself of the whole point of it.’

‘To just enjoy it,’ he said. It was a statement rather than a question, Mia noticed.

‘Yeah, that’s right, to just enjoy it.’

‘And do the things that matter to us while we can.’

He could feel her breath on his face, her lips were almost touching his.

‘And what matters?’ said Mia, although Fraser suspected she knew the answer. ‘What really matters to you?’

He leaned over and took her face in his hands.

‘This,’ he said, kissing her. ‘
You
.’

It is the beginning of August and just getting light. Too early even for dog-walkers, or horse-riders, but time for the sun to be slowly rising, gold and shiny as a brand-new penny.

The beach is ours, the only sound the car engine. I switch it off. Silence. If I listen hard, the faint roar of the sea.

We all get out, Billy between the two of us, and walk towards the water, which rolls gently towards us now, a silver carpet, dappled with light.

Over the shingle we crunch, then, taking our shoes off, barefoot over the mud flats. They’re cracked and bone-dry after a long, hot summer, except for the tiny purple flowers, pushing up towards the sun.

We reach the sand; it’s firm and wet and stretches for miles, curving around us like a huge, sweeping cloak.

I stop and drink it in. I fill my lungs with salty air. This is no picture postcard, I think, but it is paradise to me: wild and barren and raw and real.

And now we are ready, our clothes are at our feet and we stand, the three of us, half blinded before the sun, like
in Genesis, like the first-ever specimens of humankind.

I close my eyes and squeeze Billy’s hand. I can hear the rush of the waves, the blood in my ears, and if I put my hand to my chest, the b-dum, dum of my heart. And now we are walking quickly towards the sea, the imprints of the waves in the sand, massaging our soles and propelling us forward.

Faster, faster, we go, walking, running. I squeeze my eyes shut, cry out and then …!
The water is
freezing
, so cold it takes my breath away, and I pull Billy up by one arm, then the other, skimming him over the waves, Fraser swimming out in front of us, out towards the light.

And now I’m laughing and gasping, my feet flail on the shingle sea bed, my knees collapse and I have to push us up, towards the dappled surface. But it’s beautiful, so beautiful, the sun rising higher by the second, turning the sky gold and pink.

I clutch Billy to my chest. I can feel the warmth of his feet on my belly, his head on my shoulder and the pull of the current beneath, running cool and fast between my legs.

It’s getting deeper now, I can’t touch the ground, and I have to kick my legs hard to keep us afloat. Fraser holds out his hand and I take it, then he pulls us towards him and into his arms. We wrap our bodies around one another for warmth, skin to skin, in the middle of the sea, and I can’t feel where I end and the two of them start, where our skin meets the water, or the sea meets the sky.

I tilt my head back. When I lift it up again, Fraser is looking at me. Then suddenly, he pushes back, he is swimming backwards, out towards the horizon; a real-life infinity-pool, spilling over the edge of the earth. Kick,
push, he goes. I watch a smile spread across his face and,
behind him, the sun sailing higher. Another brand-new day.

It’s finally here! The book about friendship I’ve been trying to write for years. I would definitely still be trying without the following people: my agent, the very talented Lizzy Kremer and everyone at David Higham Associates; Laura West, Harriet Moore; my brilliant editor Sarah Ritherdon.

Sarah, (and all the team at HarperCollins – Louise Swannell, marketing, sales and anyone else I’ve left out) I truly could not have asked for more passion and enthusiasm behind this book and I am so grateful. Also I want to thank the art team for doing such a beautiful job on the cover.

I am also grateful to my family and parents for their continued support (particularly all the looking after Fergus whilst I tapped away all year! I couldn’t have done it without you, Mum and Dad.) My lovely Fergus, for inspiring some of the special mother–son moments in this book and Louis – without your time and support I could definitely not do this job.

I also want to thank: Jenny Matthews, Jean Fish, Roger Snow and Renata Simoes for specifics.

Lastly, all my brilliant friends – I’m so lucky to have the lot of you. Our shared times have inspired lots of this book (in fact, thanks for any anecdotes supplied, or just unearthed by me…). I really wrote this for us.

Katy Regan worked for various women’s magazines for two years before joining Marie Claire in 2002 as Features Writer going on to become Commissioning Editor. In 2004, at the height of her career as the office roving reporter singleton, she fell accidentally pregnant by her best mate (who just remained a friend). Seeing the creative possibilities in this unconventional situation, her editor commissioned her to write a column
And then there were three … sort of.

Which proved so successful it ran for two years and inspired many a reader to write in to Katy with their life story. She has now taken her loyal following to her
blog on the Marie Claire website www.marieclaire.
co.uk. When she is not writing fiction she writes features for the likes of Stella Magazine, The Times and Marie Claire. She lives in Hertfordshire with her son.

One Thing Led To Another

The One Before The One

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Harper

An imprint of HarperCollins
Publishers

77–85 Fulham Palace Road,

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

This ebook first published in Great Britain by HarperCollins
Publishers
Ltd 2012

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2013

Illustration © Steven Bonner

Katy Regan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Source ISBN: 9780007237449

EPub Edition © December 2012 ISBN: 9780007431885

Version 1

FIRST EDITION

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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