A Life Without You

by Katie Marsh

Genres: Family Life; Women's Fiction

Synopsis

It's Zoe's wedding day. She's about to marry Jamie, the love of her life. Then a phone call comes out of the blue, with the news that her mum Gina has been arrested. Zoe must make an impossible decision: should she leave her own wedding to help?

Release date: June 16, 2016

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 296

Sample

This book has been a very personal and challenging story to write, so thanks must go first to my husband Max for being my counsellor, my supporter and my personal chef when deadlines are looming and I am in danger of only eating food out of cans. All my hugs and love also go to Evie – my own personal Tigger. Long may our storytelling continue. I am constantly indebted to my wonderful parents and to my outrageously inspiring brother Richard, who consistently sets me such a fine example of what it means to be a writer.

I am very grateful to my editor, Emily Kitchin, for her energising and insightful help from first draft to final full stop. Thank you to Emma Knight, Naomi Berwin, Anna Alexander and everyone at Hodder for working with such passion and commitment to bring this book out into the big wide world. I am also endlessly thankful to my brilliant agent Hannah Ferguson for working so hard to make my dreams come true.

Thank you to the wonderful friends who have supported me along the way: Alice Jarvis, Jo Rose, Nijma Khan, Helen Winterton, Diana de Grunwald, Myoung Rhee, Maria Nicholson, Tanya de Grunwald, Kate Holder and the incomparable Rhian Fox. I couldn’t have done it without you all.

I am enormously grateful to the book bloggers who have given me such heartfelt support over the past year – you are a wonderfully warm community and have made a world of difference. Particular thanks go to Anne Cater, John Fish, Victoria Goldman, Sophie Hedley, Linda Hill, Agi Klar, Laura Lovelock, Nina Pottell, Sandra Robinson, Michelle Ryles, Kelly Spillane and Sharon Wilden. I would like to send enthusiastic hugs and promises of wine to my cheerleading wonder writers: Isabelle Broom, Cesca Major, Lisa Dickenson, Cressida McLaughlin, Miranda Dickinson, Amanda Jennings and Kim Curran. You are the best support I could ever hope to have.

Finally, heartfelt thanks to the many people who helped me to research this novel: Mary-Anne Driscoll, Claire Pollard, Louise Forbes, Andrea Marlow, Georgia Best, Tamara Bathgate, Rachel Kingston, Deborah Wolverson, Tom Davie, James Thomas, Rebecca Jarvis, Dr Hugo De Waal, Andrew Goodson, Hannah Mitchell and Dr Sophie Edwards. Thank you all for your honesty and for your time. You have helped to bring this story alive.

That sandwich had definitely been a mistake.

Zoe pressed her hand to her clammy forehead and reached for her toothbrush. The pile of soft white towels by the marble sink mocked her with its fragrant perfection as she applied toothpaste and started to brush.

‘Come on, Zoe.’ Her dad knocked a brisk rhythm on the bathroom door. ‘Chin up.’ His voice was more a threat than an encouragement.

She spat and rinsed before straightening up and staring at herself in the mirror. Bad move. Even the over-zealous make-up artist hadn’t managed to disguise the craters of exhaustion beneath her eyes.

‘I’m coming, Dad.’ She suppressed the latest in her seemingly endless supply of yawns. She and the small hours had become very good friends of late. She felt sweat prickling all over her body and tried to loosen the lace that clung to her neck. The material had other ideas, and after a small tussle, she gave up and ran cold water over her wrists instead. At least the nausea was ebbing away now. Just the pounding headache and the panic to go.

She dried her hands and straightened up, watching as the cream silk folds of her dress swirled elegantly towards the ground. She was dressed like a bride. Her sweeping chignon was certainly ready to be the centre of attention.

Part of her even felt like a bride. Expectant. Lucky.

It was the rest of her that was the problem. The persistent voice that kept asking whether she should even be here at all. Whether she and Jamie could ever really be happy after everything that had happened and everything that had been said.

Her stomach cramped again and she ran across to the toilet and bent over it. This wasn’t quite the glamorous wedding build-up she’d been hoping for. She waited to see if there was anything left in her stomach. Apparently not. Small mercies. She stood up shakily and closed the seat.

More knocking. ‘Zoe. I need to go down now.’

She could hear his impatience. There was no room in the wedding schedule for crises of any kind. Every second of the day was accounted for. No deviations allowed.

She inhaled and walked over to open the bathroom door. She tried a smile. He grinned back, apparently convinced.

‘You’re OK, then. I knew I could rely on you.’ He looked her up and down, tall and imposing in his morning suit. His grey hair was waxed flat and his black shoes gleamed. ‘I always can.’

She nodded. ‘I’m fine. I just wanted to powder my nose.’ Her stomach growled ominously, and she had to fight down another wave of queasiness. As he looked at her she could see the pride in his blue eyes. He always saw the best version of her. That was all she had ever shown him.

‘Here you are, Zo.’ Her sister held out a glass of champagne.

‘Thanks, Lily.’

Maybe alcohol was the answer. Nothing else had worked so far. Not Rennies or deep breathing or listening to calming classical music. Zoe watched the bubbles pop and fizz right up to the rim as she closed her fingers round the stem. She took a cautious sip before putting the glass down on the dark oak coffee table. She exhaled slowly. She could do this.

Her dad smiled, and the pale scar on his chin curved upwards into a lopsided C. Northern Ireland, 1986. He could name the origin of every mark on his face and body from his many years of service. ‘Jamie’s a lucky man. I hope he knows that.’ His voice held a note of warning. Jamie sometimes joked that he would actually have to save Zoe from a burning building or an assassination attempt to ever be deemed worthy of her in her dad’s eyes.

‘Right. Time to go.’ He turned on his heel and marched towards the door. Then he stopped. Came back. Hugged Zoe so hard she could feel his heart beating against her ribs. The hug said he loved her. Said everything he never expressed in words.

He squeezed still closer. ‘Here’s to a wonderful day.’

Well, she hadn’t been sick for at least five minutes, so things were heading in the right direction.

‘Thanks, Dad.’ She nestled under his chin, remembering the way she and Lily had peered out of the windows of a succession of army quarters, waiting to see their dad the hero arriving home. Noses pressed to glass. Voices raised as they competed to spot him first. Then the sweet crush of that homecoming hug.

He let her go, and she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. ‘I’m sure today will be perfect. I can’t wait.’

She ignored her rapid pulse. The darkness whirling through her mind. People had been telling her for ages that you weren’t meant to actually enjoy your wedding day. Maybe every bride felt like this. Overwhelmed. Unsure.

Her dad patted her shoulder. ‘Time to get those ushers in order. I’ll see you downstairs in twenty minutes. Don’t be late.’ He walked to the door and opened it.

Zoe nearly stopped him. Nearly shared the worries gnawing away at her heart. But then she bit the words back. A lifetime of practice stood her in good stead. She was good at this. Good at keeping calm and carrying on.

Besides, she couldn’t exactly do much right now. The flowers, the catering, the venue, the guests – the thought of stopping this marital juggernaut in its tracks made her want to rush to the bathroom again, lock the door and start digging an escape tunnel to Australia.

‘We’ll be right on time, Dad.’

As the door swung shut behind him, both girls raised their hands in a mock salute. They looked at each other and smiled, remembering a childhood of having to be precisely on time for everything, from trips to museums to games of football in the garden.

Zoe moved towards the huge sash window. Her chest was so tight she was struggling to breathe. She needed air. She tried to pull the window open. It didn’t move. She tried again. The catch broke off and fell to the floor.

It really wasn’t her day.

She turned away and started fanning her face with her hand. The grips holding her hair in place were starting to bite. She massaged her temples with her fingers. ‘God, can you imagine what he’d do if we actually were late?’

‘I’d rather not.’ Lily shook her head vigorously, while fastening a silver pendant round her neck.

‘Spoilsport.’

Zoe gulped as she thought of all the people waiting for her in the hotel conservatory downstairs. The guest list had grown and grown – from an original list of forty to the hundred and fifty people who would be milling around now. Her dad’s friends. Their friends. Waiting for action. Waiting for her.

‘Are you OK?’ Lily put a slender arm around her shoulders, and her silver nails gleamed in the sunlight.

Zoe nodded. ‘I’m fine. It’s just that with Dad on full alert, it’s not the most relaxing atmosphere in the world.’ She tried to laugh but it came out as more of a shriek. Her whole body felt wired, tensed for a disaster that only she could see coming. She had jumped out of her skin earlier when Lily had slammed her suitcase shut unexpectedly, and the wedding photographer had long since given her up for a bad job and gone downstairs to take pictures of people who could actually smile.

Lily’s voice was quiet. ‘Are you sure that’s all it is? Dad stressing you out?’

Zoe sat down on the edge of the vast double bed, the purple bedspread crackling beneath her. ‘Yes. One of the ushers texted me earlier to say he’s genuinely terrified. He thinks Dad’s got an old army rifle stashed away in case any of them step out of line. I’m hardly going to be laughing giddily with all that tension going on, am I?’

This time Lily looked more convinced. ‘True.’ She slid a diamanté clip into her cropped blonde hair. ‘I just wanted to check. Because, you know, you and Jamie are so great together. I’d hate it if anything has ruined that. And recently you’ve seemed a bit … jumpy.’

Understatement of the century.

‘I know.’ Zoe’s heart gave a nervous flutter at the mention of her fiancé’s name. They hadn’t been great together over the past few weeks. Quite the opposite.

She kept talking, as much to calm herself as to convince Lily. ‘I think we’ve just found the wedding build-up a bit difficult. Jamie asked me last week whether I’d like to elope somewhere nice and peaceful like the Middle East instead.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘I think he was joking.’

Actually she hadn’t been entirely sure. And part of her had been extremely tempted to say yes. Instead she had panicked and changed the subject and things had spiralled until they were back at that night in May when he had found her in the darkness, staring at the flickering street light outside their living room. Feet tucked beneath her. Heart on the floor.

Things were still so raw. At times it seemed the wedding preparations were the only thing keeping them talking, distracting attention from the silence thickening between them. She frowned, stretching her neck from side to side, trying to ease the tension in her muscles. This kind of thinking was why she never let herself sit still.

Lily collapsed on to a majestic silver and purple armchair. The Carnegie Hotel really had gone all out on the design and furnishing of its honeymoon suite. The default setting was ‘overwhelming’. The chandelier on the ceiling looked like it could be made out of actual diamonds, and the floor was so huge that Zoe could have brought her trainers and got in a good few laps to pass the time.

Lily looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I can’t blame Jamie for freaking out. His family seem so down to earth – this might all be a bit much for them.’ She stood up and walked to the window, opening it with embarrassing ease.

The thrum of traffic came from far below as London got ready for another muggy July Saturday. The sun was shining. Everything and everyone was on track for a perfect day.

Except Zoe.

She looked at the clock. Time was moving on. Her stomach twisted with panic. She tried to push away the doubts and questions that were her constant companions now. ‘You’re right – his family are pretty down to earth. His mum bakes cakes and delivers Meals on Wheels. She won a couple of hundred quid in a raffle a few months ago, and spent it on a new garden shed.’

Lily stared at her lap. Zoe knew the images that would be playing in her head. Snapshots of someone who wouldn’t be here today. A narrow face with mischievous brown eyes. A laughing mouth telling stories or ordering them to hurry up and get into the bath before they both turned ninety. A bright dress over leggings. Frayed flip-flops. Sunglasses tipped up above a thick fringe. Mum.

Lily sighed, and Zoe saw how rigid her pale shoulders were above the neckline of her green bridesmaid’s dress. She stood up and went over to put her arm round Lily’s shoulders. Her sister’s eyes remained downcast. Zoe kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thanks so much for being my bridesmaid today, Lil. I know it’s hard, after what happened with Gary.’ Lily’s eyes filled with tears, and Zoe cursed herself. She should never have mentioned the G word. Gary was an overbearing accountant who considered not farting during dinner to be the height of romance. Lily had dated him for eighteen months.

Self-worth. Not her sister’s strong point.

Zoe reached out and wiped the lipstick smudge off Lily’s lower lip with a practised hand. ‘I’m so happy you’re here.’

Lily rallied. ‘I just want to enjoy myself. Sod Gary.’ She stood up decisively and reached for more champagne.

Zoe was impressed. ‘Wow. You said his name without sobbing. That is progress.’

Her sister’s face trembled again.

Zoe caught her hand. ‘Too soon?’

‘Too soon. It’s only been a month.’

‘Sorry.’ Zoe reached out and hugged her sister. Their dresses creaked in protest and they separated rapidly.

Lily drained her glass. ‘Don’t worry about it. Besides, being your bridesmaid is my wedding present to you. God knows I can’t afford anything else.’

Zoe laughed. ‘You managed to get my dress done up – that’s present enough for me.’

Lily nodded. ‘True.’ A rare mischief coloured her face, lifting her eyes, her smile, her skin. Zoe wished she looked like that more often. ‘It’s all my gym training.’ Lily flexed a pale bicep the size of a comma.

She darted a sideways look at Zoe. ‘So, do you still think it was the right thing? Not to invite Mum? No last-minute regrets?’

Zoe stiffened. She had been dreaming about Mum a lot recently. Not about what had happened between them. Not about the anger that was keeping them apart. No. Sweeter dreams. Deceptive dreams. Zoe standing on a stool at her mum’s side, licking the spoon as they made chocolate cake together. Or her mum leaning over the bed at night, tickling Zoe’s tummy with her long red hair. Sleep tight, baby girl. Sleep tight.

Guilt needled her yet again as she wondered how the rift had grown so wide, and how much of it was her fault. She summoned all her strength and forced the thought away. She had done the right thing. Mum had given her no choice.

‘She wouldn’t have come anyway, Lil. We haven’t spoken for years, and we were never exactly the Gilmore Girls to start with.’ She stared her sister straight in the eye. ‘OK?’

‘OK.’ Lily nodded. ‘It just makes me sad that you two never see each other. Even after all this time. I know she said some pretty terrible things, but …’

‘Yes. She did.’ Zoe nodded, wishing she had simply told Lily the truth at the time. But now years of secrecy imprisoned her. ‘Look, Lil, now isn’t the time to talk about this.’ She got to her feet. ‘Shall we go down soon?’

‘Sure.’ Lily checked the time. ‘Five minutes.’

There was a knock at the door.

‘Shit. That’ll be Dad again. What the hell’s wrong now?’ Zoe’s skin was starting to itch. She just wanted to get down there and brazen it out. Push through the doubts. Ignore the jagged edges and snares of the past few weeks.

She opened the door.

‘Jamie!’ She instinctively slammed it shut again.

‘Ouch.’ She heard a muffled groan on the other side.

She opened it again. ‘Shit. Are you OK?’

‘I think so.’ He prodded his face tentatively. ‘If I’m very lucky, my nose might just about manage to pull through.’

She reached out and touched his cheek, smelling the cinnamon tang of his aftershave. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry. I just …’

‘Panicked?’ He nodded. ‘I know. I’m not meant to see you before we meet downstairs. But as you’re someone who seems to actively despise superstition, I didn’t think you’d mind. By the way, may I just say you look HOT.’

She met his eyes, and as ever, his presence lifted her, turning the world from drab to neon. A little part of her started to hope.

He leant forward and kissed her. ‘Oh my God, I can’t wait to get you back up here later. Look at that bed. It’s so—’

She heard a discreet click as Lily disappeared into the bathroom.

His cheeks turned pink.

‘Awkward. Didn’t see her over there. Which isn’t surprising, seeing as this room is bigger than our entire flat.’ He walked around admiringly.

‘Jamie, I …’ She felt her face flush as words blocked on her tongue. Seeing him here, in the bright light of their wedding day, with his purple waistcoat and excited eyes, she felt the gap between them widen. He was ready for happy-ever-after. She didn’t even know if she deserved it.

She looked down at her engagement ring. The diamond shone as he took her hand. ‘Look, Zo, I’m really sorry to surprise you like this.’ His green eyes met hers and she saw only conviction. ‘Things have been so shit between us recently. And I didn’t want to just … see you. Down there in front of everyone. Without saying sorry.’

‘Sorry for what?’

‘For everything.’ Anxiety clouded his face. ‘Sorry for being such a dick. For trying to make you talk about it all the time when you didn’t want to. I just didn’t know how to feel – I wanted an explanation, you know? A reason.’

She nodded. ‘I know.’

He shifted from foot to foot. ‘So I jabbered on like an idiot, talking about how stressed you were – making it sound like what happened was your fault. It’s no wonder we kept fighting all the time.’ He ran a hand through his spiky blond hair. ‘I didn’t know what I was saying. And I would never blame you. You know that, don’t you?’

‘It’s OK.’ Zoe examined the purple swirls on the thick carpet, running over them with the tip of her satin shoe.

‘No, it’s not.’ He took her hands in his. ‘I saw your face that night, remember? I’ve never seen you look like that before. So defeated.’

She had no words to answer him. Only memories from long ago. Tears. Breaths. Hours spent curled on her side waiting for it to be over.

She swayed, and Jamie put a finger under her chin and gently raised it.

‘Talk to me, Zoe.’

She stared at him and tried to put the words into an order in her head. Words that could make him see how confused she was. How unmoored. How there was so much she hadn’t told him.

She was just opening her mouth when he ran the tip of his finger down her cheek.

The warmth of it stopped her in her tracks.

‘I’m OK, Jamie.’ She kissed him. ‘Nothing to worry about.’ She glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘You have to get downstairs.’

‘But I want to stay here and tell you how beautiful you are. And how proud I am to be with you. And—’

She pulled back. ‘Shouldn’t you be saving all this for your speech?’

‘I’ve got more than enough to say. Don’t you worry.’ He smiled. ‘Like the way you always remember to buy loo roll. That’s my grand finale.’

He stole another kiss.

‘Wow, that’ll have them whooping in the aisles.’ She stepped free and reached for her champagne, downing the entire glass in one quick gulp. She was used to being able to banish doubt. And today she would do so again.

‘Jamie, you need to go.’

‘First let me just do this. Because I’m mad about you.’ He lifted her high in the air and whirled her around, and despite herself, she laughed.

‘Watch out! I’m not sure my dress can take any more surprises.’

He put her down and peered at her approvingly. ‘How the hell do I undo it, anyway?’

She felt her cheeks burn as she ran her fingers around the satin-covered hooks that tapered down her lower back. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

He reached for her again, and panic knifed her as the urge to confess returned. Then Lily came out of the bathroom. ‘Time to go, sis.’

‘OK.’ Zoe nodded, inwardly relieved. In another second she would have told him. And there would be no coming back from that.

‘I love you.’ His eyes still searched her face.

He knew something was wrong. He was too used to seeing her coping. Never thrown. Never put off her stride. Whereas today she was unravelling, right there in the engagement ring that had cost him two months’ wages.

‘Enjoy the ceremony, Jamie.’ Lily leant forward to kiss his cheek. ‘See you on the other side.’

‘If I make it that far.’ Jamie grimaced. ‘I think your dad may do away with me for daring to abandon my post just before the ceremony.’

‘No he won’t.’ Zoe shook her head. ‘It would ruin the table plans.’

Lily grinned. ‘You made a joke! Great. You must be feeling better.’

‘Better?’ Jamie paused again. ‘I knew there was something wrong.’

‘Just go!’ Zoe held the door open for him.

‘I love you.’ His voice was still audible as she shut it behind him.

Zoe took another deep breath. She was doing the right thing. She was. This was Jamie. The man with the slow smile who had captivated her four years ago when he ambled over to mend her work PC. The man who always had time to stand and stare. Who appreciated the little things. Frost on a leaf. Marbled clouds in the sky. The sunlight on her face in the morning.

Those were the things that mattered. Not the last few weeks.

Lily handed Zoe her bouquet.

‘So what’s he given you this time?’ She gently flicked a speck of dust off Zoe’s forearm. ‘Yet more perfect jewellery? More hand-painted pictures of your favourite view or the place you met?’ She sighed. ‘He really does do his best to make all the rest of the men in the world appear to be complete and utter losers.’

‘He just wanted to talk to me.’ Zoe’s jaw was so tense it felt like her teeth might crack. ‘We’ve had a few …’ She stopped. No point going into it now. Not with ‘Here Comes the Bride’ starting in five minutes.

Lily blinked. ‘A few what?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Zoe shook her head.

‘Zoe?’

Lily’s voice seemed very far away. Zoe poured more champagne, hoping it would seal the hole that was opening in her heart. She downed it in one.

Lily looked at her, concerned.

‘Zoe?’ she said again.

Zoe stared at her, poised to speak. At last. But then she swallowed the words down just as she always did, burying them deep, safe where no one could see.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’ Zoe nodded. ‘Look, just humour me. I’m the bride. It’s my day. OK?’

‘OK.’ Lily shrugged. ‘Time to go.’

‘Yes.’ Zoe put her hand on the doorknob. This was her last chance. She could go downstairs, or she could listen to the voice in her head telling her that she wasn’t going to get away with this. That she wasn’t the woman Jamie deserved.

It took them both a second to realise that Lily’s phone was ringing. Lily leant over and looked at the screen. She frowned. ‘It’s just Mags. I’ll leave it. It can’t be important.’

Zoe reached for the phone.

‘Let’s answer.’

‘No, Zo. We have to—’

Too late. Zoe had swiped to accept the call.

Mags. Their mum’s best friend. Zoe could still remember her dark hair blocking out the sun as she bent to dab on calamine when Zoe had fallen off her bike into the nettle patch.

Lily frowned at Zoe as she spoke. ‘Mags? Hello? Now’s not a great time, we’re about to—’

Zoe leant closer to listen to the voice at the other end of the line.

Lily’s voice was low. ‘What?’ A line appeared between her eyebrows and she put the phone on speaker.

Mags’s voice crackled into the padded luxury of the room. A voice from another world. ‘It’s Gina.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘She’s …’

Fear flared in Zoe’s heart. Fear that after all this time, all these years of being apart, she was never going to get a chance to see her mum’s face again.

Mags sounded hurried. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t really explain on the phone. She’s asking for Zoe, but I didn’t have her number, so—’

Zoe’s heart jolted. ‘I’m here, Mags.’

‘Thank God. She wants you to help her.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’ Mags’s voice was definite. Clear. ‘You need to come. Right now. You need to come and get her out of here.’

Married quarters, Queensbury Barracks, Wiltshire

Birthday present: you don’t care about presents, you

just love the wrapping paper

Favourite music: ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’

15th June, 1985

Darling Zo-bear,

So. You made it to one. Thank God for that. There were times when I wondered if you would.

Right from the beginning, nothing’s gone according to plan. The birth wasn’t exactly the cheesecloth-and-tea-light scenario I’d imagined. I thought Alistair would be holding my hand and looking manly and helping me breathe through the INSANE pain, but – of course – he was away on exercise when you decided to arrive, so he had to leg it here in the back of a truck and only arrived the day after I first got to hold you in my arms. I wasn’t even due for another month, and I was about thirty minutes away from giving birth in the loo at work when my poor nervous manager Roger offered to drive me to the hospital in his ancient Ford Fiesta. We made it just as your head was starting to appear, and the first words you heard were ‘Bugger me’ as he fell to the floor in a dead faint.

So, not the most glamorous start. But I didn’t care. Because there you were. You had two eyes and ten toes and red fuzz all over your head, and you were perfect. Just perfect. It was only the two of us for ages, as Alistair was sent away so much. God, I missed him – I hate the endless cycle of sending parcels/writing letters/hoping it’s not me who gets the dreaded visit about the sniper or the injury – but with you here it was so much better. We were happy, the two of us. Well, the four of us if you count my boobs, which were pretty much all you were interested in at the beginning. For the first few weeks it was total chaos. No shipshape and Alistair fashion (your daddy is a fan of rearranging the contents of the fridge into very straight lines. I know. We’ll train him). Instead, it was all muslins and nappies and Wagon Wheels and Heinz ravioli and peas every day for my tea. The beige army paint was peeling off the living room walls, but so what? I didn’t give a flying one about anything except you.

My mum visited occasionally – whenever she could get away from the hectic demands of having her hair done every other bloody day – and told me I wasn’t changing your nappies properly, or that you were too small or too fussy or too red in the face. Sod her. I dutifully clicked the camera shutte. . .