My Map of You (38 page)

‘You must have really loved my Auntie Sandra,' Holly realised. ‘You knew she'd never want this house to leave the family.'

‘That's probably true,' he agreed. ‘But my motivations were all linked directly to you, I'm afraid. I'm not quite as heroic as you might have thought.'

‘Hang on.' Holly snapped her head round to look at him. ‘Was it you who put mud in my washing machine?'

Aidan said nothing, but his face had turned an interesting shade of maroon.

‘It bloody was, wasn't it? You sneaked in and sabotaged the place!'

‘In my defence,' he laughed, blocking the blows Holly
was now raining down on him, ‘I thought it would be harder to sell if everything was falling apart.'

‘I had a lump on my head for a bloody week from that cupboard door!' she scolded.

‘Shit – I'm sorry.' He was still laughing. ‘Your poor little head. I didn't mean to hurt you. You shouldn't go slamming doors, though, really.'

‘The funny thing is,' Holly told him now, a sweet warmth spreading through her chest, ‘this house actually belongs to Dennis. After the truth came out and my mum left with me, he told Sandra that she could have it. He felt so guilty about what he'd done to her that he handed it over without asking for a single penny.'

‘Steady now!' Aidan laughed. ‘That dad of yours will be stealing my good-guy crown in a minute.'

For a few minutes, they were both laughing too much to speak, more with pure relief than because anything was particularly funny. It felt good to let go of some of the tension that had been crackling between them ever since Aidan knocked on the door.

‘Don't go home,' he said now, suddenly serious. ‘Stay here. I'll give you a job. You can be my receptionist or something.'

‘There you go again, trying to rescue me,' Holly scolded him gently, with a light slap to the back of his hand. ‘That man who hired me to make stuff for his show, he wants me to do lots more, and I can work from wherever in the world that I want. And I still have my stall back in London. I'm going to be sending clothes back there as well. So, I've got a perfectly good job, thanks very much – and it's one I happen to love.'

‘Sorry.' He looked downcast and wrapped his fingers around her wrists. ‘I just thought …'

‘What? That you could look after me? That I would move here and work in your little clinic and we'd live happily ever after?'

‘Is that such a bad thing?'

‘If you must know,' she told him, removing her hands carefully from his, ‘I have decided to stay. I've made all the arrangements already.'

‘You're kidding?' Aidan looked like he was about to leap out of his seat and punch the air. ‘That's … Well, that's great news. The best!'

‘You just told me not to go home,' she explained. ‘But the thing is, I already
am
home. This is the only place that's ever felt remotely like a home. I can be myself here.'

‘You know, my mam said the exact same thing to me in Kefalonia,' Aidan said, his eyes bright with reluctant tears. ‘And now I can't imagine living anywhere else in the world but here, on this stupidly gorgeous island with all these stupidly brilliant people.'

‘I think me being here would make my mum happy,' Holly told him, putting her empty glass down on the table. The two of them had settled next to one another on the sofa now, both looking up at the map rather than at each other. ‘She asked Sandra to forgive her so many times, over so many years. I think she always wanted to come back here.'

‘So many people have made so many mistakes,' Aidan said, shifting slightly. ‘And I include myself in that.'

Holly turned to face him and put a timid hand on his shoulder. ‘I don't want to talk about the past any more. I
want to focus on the future. I'm sick of carrying so many ghosts around with me all the time.'

‘Does that mean you forgive me?' he whispered, letting his head fall to the side so that his hair brushed the back of her hand. Holly felt a stirring deep inside herself and moved her hand quickly back into her lap.

‘I think so,' she told him honestly. ‘I'm no angel myself, you know. What I did to poor Rupert was inexcusable. You told me that I just wanted to be looked after, that I reeled people in then pushed them away – and you were right.'

‘I shouldn't have said that.'

‘But you did. And it hurt, it really did, but I needed to hear it. I told myself that I wasn't in my right mind when I slept with you – I even moved in with Rupert when I got back to London, for God's sake.'

Aidan flinched.

‘But I never forgave myself. I always felt like he deserved better, and it was true. I never loved him, not really, it just took me a while to pluck up enough courage to admit it. I hadn't really had any stability in my life since my mum died, then I met Rupert and he was so … I don't know. So capable. I think I was so tired of looking after myself at that point that I relished the chance to let someone else take over for a while. Admitting that I was wrong about that and choosing to be alone again has been a very big step for me.'

‘I was so jealous,' Aidan told her. ‘I was a complete arse to you, but I didn't appreciate how tough it must have been, him turning up like that.'

‘It wasn't the best timing,' Holly agreed, laughing now at the ridiculousness of it all.

Aidan looked sheepish. ‘I followed you down to Laganas that night,' he confessed, earning himself a stare of disbelief. ‘What? I did! I sat in my bloody jeep all the time you were dancing in that bar, then I watched you and that posh boy walk up the road together arm in arm, like some scorned hero in a slushy romance film.'

‘Well, that's just embarrassing,' Holly laughed. She couldn't believe she was hearing all this.

‘It is. I'm pathetic,' he sighed dramatically, pulling what Holly could only presume was his best scorned-hero-in-a-slushy-romance-film face.

For a few minutes, as she looked into his eyes and traced the haphazard freckles down to his big, smiling mouth, Holly could picture herself falling into his arms. She imagined what it would feel like to have him kiss her again, remembering how her body had responded to him before with such an urgent need that it left her breathless. It would be so easy to give in to what he wanted.

Aidan, as if reading her mind, leaned towards her and slipped one big hand gently into her hair. His lips were only centimetres from her own when she abruptly pulled away.

‘What's the matter?' He looked more confused than hurt.

Holly took a deep breath, forcing her spinning insides to slow down a few gears. ‘It's not you …' she began, stopping before she finished it with ‘it's me'. Aidan was looking at her with a mixture of lust and bemusement.

‘I don't want to be with you,' she managed at last.

The smile vanished from his face and he stared at her, bewildered.

‘Right now, I mean. I do have feelings for you,' she assured him. ‘It's just that I need some time on my own. I need to have a relationship with myself for a while – does that even make sense?'

He nodded, trying to smile.

‘Before you met me, I'd hated myself for a very long time. I don't think I'd given myself a break since I was a teenager – certainly not since my mum died. I did my best to pretend that I was a confident person, that I knew what I wanted, but really I was a mess. When I got the letter from Sandra and came over here, I was terrified. I'd grown so used to hating myself and my mum and everything about my past, I was afraid that I'd be made to face up to all that if I came here – and I was right.'

‘But … ?' he asked, letting his hand rest casually against her leg.

‘But the longer I spent here, the more I realised that I needed to forgive my mum – and forgive myself too. I blamed myself for what happened to her, and even now I still feel partly responsible. If I'd never been born, she would probably have stayed here with Sandra and everything would have worked out.'

‘You can't think like that,' he said.

‘I know. Dennis made me realise that today.' She smiled at the memory of her trip out on the fishing boat that afternoon. ‘I think meeting me has helped him forgive himself too.'

‘That makes sense.' Aidan was smiling at her again with what looked like real affection. ‘You're quite something, you know. Of course your old man's proud of you.'

‘But it's taking some getting used to, this whole liking
myself thing,' she continued. ‘I just think that if I start something with you then I might never know what it feels like to just be with myself for a while – the version of me that I actually like, that is. I need to be comfortable in my own skin before I let you get underneath it.'

She thought he would come back at her with an argument, or plead with her to change her mind, but instead Aidan just leaned forward and pulled her into a hug, pressing her cheek against his chest and resting his stubbly chin on the top of her head. The feel of him, so firm and warm beneath his T-shirt, almost caused Holly's resolve to crumble like a broken biscuit, but she forced herself not to lift her head. If her mouth happened to find itself anywhere near his in that moment, she was pretty sure that there would be little if anything she would be able to do to stop it taking charge of the situation.

Aidan said something, but it was muffled by her hair. Holly pulled back and looked up at him questioningly.

‘Under your skin?' he grinned. ‘You make me sound like I'm Hannibal Lecter or something, woman.' Then, suddenly more serious, ‘Do you think there will ever be a me and you?'

Holly looked at his tatty clothes, at the dark smear of grease on his shin and the scab on his knee. There were patches of peeling sunburnt skin in the crooks of his arms and an angry-looking pimple had started to emerge from the soft area around his nose. He looked so beautiful to her that she thought she might cry, so she made herself look away, up at the map he'd made for her – his map of her – and let her eyes find the little red heart he'd scribbled in biro.

‘Oh, you know, maybe one day,' she said at last, grinning sideways at him and reaching for her empty glass. ‘But for the time being, why don't we start with a glass of this very excellent wine?'

Holly and Aidan sat together in the little house on the hill in Zakynthos, oblivious to the late September sun slipping down behind the mountains and the moon rising up to take its place. The white-stone walls around them turned indigo as night fell and the stars took it in turns to twinkle, each one competing to shine the brightest.

If they'd stepped outside and looked up at the sparkling tapestry laid out above them, they would have been able to trace a map between the burning points, running their fingers north, east, south and west, discovering new ways to navigate from one star to the next. But there was no need. After a lifetime of searching, they had each found their way home.

The
little girl fanned her dress out behind her carefully before sitting down on the sand. She'd picked a spot far enough back not to be in range of the waves, but she still let out an excited scream as a particularly big one stopped just short of her bare toes.

She'd usually be out on Granddad's boat at this time on a Sunday. They all went to his restaurant for a big lunch and then afterwards he would take her out on a little trip. Last week he'd taken her right round into the Blue Caves, where the water glowed from underneath the surface as if a secret fairyland existed just out of sight below the rocks. She hadn't told anyone about the fairies, of course. If you talk about fairies they stop being real, everyone knows that.

She picked up a stick that had been washed on shore and wrote her name in the damp sand. The sun chose that moment to pop out from where he'd been hiding behind a cloud and the light streaked through the lace overlay of her dress, dropping yellow speckles across her legs and arms. Mummy had made this dress for her. She made most of her clothes, in fact, but this dress was extra special. Granddad had given Mummy some lace that had belonged to his own mother to make it, so it must be very special indeed.

Looking out across the water, her eyes settled as they always did on her favourite place: Turtle Island. Sometimes she pretended she was the queen of that island; that it belonged to her and she got to pick who was allowed to visit. Mummy and Daddy, of course, would have to be first on her list, but she also wanted Maria to come as well, and Granny and Granddad and Auntie Clara. Auntie Aliana was also on the list, but she would have to leave behind whatever horrible man she'd brought with her. The last one who came with her had bad breath and snored even louder than Phelan. She'd probably let Kostas come, if he could get a day off from the shop, and Annie could come too – but only if she brought Lexi so that Phelan had someone to play with. Then all her friends from school, not to mention Nikos and that funny man Alix – it would end up being quite crowded, but she didn't want to leave anyone behind.

She could hear her mum calling her from the front steps of the taverna and reluctantly dragged her eyes away from her turtle-shaped kingdom. It would still be here tomorrow, after all, and it wasn't every day that she got to be a bridesmaid.

As she ran up the beach with the skirt of her dress flapping and her dark curls lifting in the light summer breeze, a wave made it right up to the tiny dent she'd left in the sand and washed over the words she'd left there. It only took a few seconds for ‘Jennifer Savannah Flynn' to vanish, but, like so many before her who had left their mark on the island, a little piece of her would always be there.

Oh
my gawd – I wrote a book and it got published and everything! Thank you so much for reading it, dearest reader. I really hope you enjoyed it. Please do come and chat to me about it on Twitter
@Isabelle_Broom
– I would love that.

I must start by saying an absolutely huge thank you to the brilliant and beautiful Hannah Ferguson, who has been making all my dreams come true from the moment she became my agent. She and the team at Hardman & Swainson and the Marsh Agency have been so professional, supportive and legendary since Day One, and I have nothing but love and admiration for all of them.

To Kimberley Atkins, my extraordinarily talented and utterly brilliant editor at Penguin Michael Joseph, if I could get the entire cast of Disneyland to stand in a line and sing you a huge thank you, then I would. This is a poor second, but I hope you know how much I love and respect you. Thank you for taking this book and turning it into something I can be truly proud of – you are a marvel. To the great Maxine Hitchcock, the awe-inspiring Francesca Russell, the fabulous Sarah Bance, the dazzling Emma Brown and the entire team over at Penguin Michael Joseph, you are all superstars. Thank you so
much. And a big fist-pump to Jess Hart, who designed the eye-wateringly beautiful cover of this book – you are a genius of unparalleled brilliance.

My journey into the publishing world really began to gather steam over two years ago, when I won a competition with a short story entitled ‘The Wedding Speech'. During that time I was lucky enough to get some amazing advice from Clare Hey, Sara-Jane Virtue, Lizzy Kremer and Milly Johnson, who are all so talented and so lovely. Your kind words helped me take the leap into proper novel writing, and this book would not be here without you.

It's no myth that writing folk are the very best of people, and I'd like to send out very special love and thanks to Hannah Beckerman, Lucy Robinson, Giovanna Fletcher, Paige Toon, Ali Harris, Stella Newman, Katie Marsh, Lindsey Kelk, Cecelia Ahern, Jane Fallon, Jo Thomas, Kirsty Greenwood, Cesca Major, Harriet Evans, Cressida McLaughlin, Nikki Owen, Eleanor Moran, Adele Parks, Tasmina Perry, David Whitehouse, Jo Carnegie, Jennifer Barclay, Lisa Dickenson, Peter James, Ben Willis, Sam Eades, Nina Pottell, Georgina Moore, Fran Gough, Lizzie Masters, Elaine Egan, Sophie Ransom and Tess Henderson. Thank you for all the laughs, advice and support, you gorgeous bunch.

To the team at
heat
magazine – you guys have always had my back and I love you all very much. Thanks for making me laugh every single day without fail.

I'm very lucky to be friends with some of the most awesome people on the planet. Massive thanks to Sadie Davies, Ian Lawton, Ewan Bishop, Tom Harding, Corrie Heale, Jamie Green, Alex Holbrook, Becky Bachelor, Dominic Morgan, Vicky Zimmerman, Rosie Walsh, Tamsin Carroll, Ranjit Dhillon, Gemma Courage, Sarah Beddingfield, Chad Higgins, Colette Berry, Jim Morris, Sue Pigott, Kostas Kapsaskis and Molly Haynes for all your words of wisdom, continuing love and eagerness to drink booze with me. Thanks to John Richardson for your support and encouragement when I was writing this book, and mega-thanks to my Running Club buddies Mark Tamsett and Lindsay Perkins – you keep me sane through the madness. Hard to believe, but true. And to my Zakynthos family – you are all nutters, but I love you. I hope you agree that I've done our little rock proud.

To my family, you are all nutters too – especially the dog contingent – but I wouldn't have you any other way. Thank you for all the love and support, and for catching me every time I fall. Mum, I could list all the very best words in the world here, but they'd never be enough to tell you how amazing you are. Thank you for everything – I love you. Always.