My Mamma Mia Summer

by Annie Robertson

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Romantic Comedy; General Fiction

Synopsis

She has a dream...now she's going to live it!

When her beloved grandmother, Marnie, passes away, Laurel is left with a small inheritance and a note telling her to follow her dreams. As she and Marnie always did in difficult times, Laurel turns to her ABBA albums and her favourite film, Mamma Mia! Without pausing for thought, she grabs her passport, dons her best dungarees, and jets off to Skopelos for her own Meryl-inspired adventure....

Laurel books into the faded but charming Villa Athena and befriends its eccentric owner. As she explores the island's famous sights and finds herself caught between the attentions of a handsome writer and the charms of Athena's grandson Nikos, Laurel is having the time of her life.... But should she return to her life in London, or could this be where she truly belongs?

Release date: June 21, 2018

Publisher: Orion Publishing Group

Print pages: 320

Sample

 

Prologue

2008

‘Wasn’t it brilliant?’ said Laurel, brimming with excitement after leaving the cinema.

Marnie put her arm round her granddaughter as they walked in the cool night air, the summer sky only just beginning to darken, and pulled her close with joy. ‘It was the greatest film I’ve ever seen!’

‘I almost choked on my popcorn when they slid down the banister!’

‘And those dance sequences – I haven’t laughed until I’ve cried in years.’

‘What about Pierce’s singing?’

They paused to look at each other, both wincing in delight and bursting into fits of giggles.

‘I still wouldn’t kick him out of bed!’

‘Marnie!’

‘I’m serious. Would you?’

Laurel thought for a moment. ‘Maybe Pierce but not Colin Firth!’

‘Of course – it’s always the shy, awkward one for you.’

Marnie linked Laurel’s arm and they ambled home, singing ABBA hits and trying out Meryl’s dance movements on the pavement.

At home Marnie put her keys on the sideboard and checked her reflection in the mirror. Her face looked younger to Laurel, glowing with happiness. ‘Your mother would have loved it.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘I know it,’ she said, turning to Laurel with a look of deep love in her eyes. ‘It captured something of her spirit in a way I’m not sure anything else has since she died.’

Laurel wished, as she always did, that she had a memory of her parents, a memory of their spirit, the thing that made Laurel, Laurel. Marnie had tried to share as many memories of Laurel and her parents as she could – her mother dancing round the kitchen to ABBA with Laurel in her arms, her father sitting in their parked car with Laurel pretending to steer – but still Laurel hankered after a memory of her own, not one that she’d been told, but it was something she knew she could never have.

‘Did I ever tell you your parents fell in love on holiday?’ said Marnie, in the kitchen, putting on the kettle.

‘You did.’

Laurel suspected Marnie had shared every scrap of information she had about her parents, and them falling in love was definitely one of Marnie’s favourite moments.

Marnie made the tea, whistling ‘Slipping Through My Fingers’, and handed Laurel her mug. ‘Do you know, I think it’s time I gave something to you.’ She left the kitchen and quickly returned with a shallow box not much bigger than a laptop.

‘What is that?’

‘Let’s call it an early eighteenth birthday present.’

Full of excitement, Laurel opened the lid and unfolded the white tissue paper that concealed what lay inside. Peeling back the paper, she discovered an item in denim fabric. She pulled it up to unfold a pair of dungarees – she knew instinctively that they held a story.

‘They were your mother’s.’

‘Really?’ said Laurel in wonder. She held them against her body.

‘They should be the perfect fit, you’re exactly the same size as she was.’

Laurel immediately took off her skirt and popped them on.

‘They feel amazing,’ she said, going out to the hall mirror.

Marnie joined her. ‘She used to wear them all the time. If you breathe deeply you can still smell the faintest trace of her scent.’

Laurel gazed in the mirror, imagining her mother was reflected there, feeling as close to her as she ever had, the scent of the dungarees bringing her to life.

‘I love them,’ she said, her voice catching.

‘I thought you would. Your mother did too. When I saw Meryl wearing a pair, I knew it was time you had them.’

Laurel turned to hug her grandmother. ‘Thank you, Marnie. I couldn’t have wished for a better present.’

‘You’re welcome,’ she said, brushing the hair from Laurel’s face with her hand, and looking into her eyes as if they were her daughter’s. ‘I’ll miss you when you head off to university.’

‘I’ll miss you too.’

But just then an idea came to Marnie and her face lit up, her violet eyes twinkling. ‘Do you know what we should do?’

‘What?’

‘We should make a promise to visit the island in the film next summer, when you’re back from uni – have a little adventure of our own.’

‘Deal!’ said Laurel, loving the idea, excited about the trip already.

 

1

2018

Dear Ms Dempsey,

 

Please be aware that you have ten days of annual leave outstanding for the year. You have rolled your leave over the maximum number of three times. If leave is not taken in full before the end of June, you will lose the entitlement.

 

Sincerely,

Liz Hemsworth

Human Resources

 

Laurel reread the email, removed an earphone and clicked open her calendar.

‘Huh.’

‘What?’ asked Matt, the team-assistant, who sat next to Laurel in the open-plan office where they worked.

‘I’ve still got ten days’ holiday to take.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ he chuckled. ‘You’re always here.’

Laurel didn’t like to admit it but Matt had a point. Since her grandmother died ten weeks ago, Laurel had thrown herself into work. It had been easier for her to focus on organising corporate events and weddings for the hotel she worked at than to dwell on the heartbreak of losing the woman she loved most in the world.

‘So, are you going to take it?’

Laurel shrugged. ‘I’m not sure.’

Matt didn’t seem to hear her. ‘Where will you go? God, just think of the choice! If I could go anywhere I’d go to Yosemite National Park and climb El Capitan.’

‘Right,’ replied Laurel, looking at the events planned for the next couple of months. She realised that if she were going to take leave it would have to be soon – next week soon – the big events booked in for July and August would require her to be there. Doubting that her boss Jacqui would agree to her taking time off, Laurel almost put the thought out of her mind. It was only when ‘Dancing Queen’ began playing through her headphones that she was reminded immediately of her favourite montage in her favourite movie, Mamma Mia!, and a flash of inspiration came to her.

‘Matt?’

‘Yup?’ he answered, not looking away from his screen.

‘Let me know when Jacqui’s finished in her meeting, will you?’

‘Sure.’

Happy that the coast was clear, Laurel did a sneaky Google search of Skopelos, the Greek island where Mamma Mia! was set. There was something irresistible to Laurel about the inimitable joy of the movie, the lavish dance routines and OTT performances. Regardless of whatever cloud darkened her day, there was always Mamma Mia! to make her smile.

Within seconds of her search thousands of images of crystal blue bays, rugged cliffs and white-washed homes with orange pan-tiled roofs flashed up in front of her.

Laurel was instantly transported to the night when she and Marnie had seen Mamma Mia! at the cinema, and the promise they’d made that the following summer they’d visit the island together. But one summer followed another, and before Laurel knew it she was laying her grandmother to rest. Laurel didn’t have many regrets in life but not taking that trip was one of them.

With that thought in mind she pulled up TripAdvisor. Dozens of Skopelos hotels and guest houses appeared, all with perfect swimming pools, blue skies and large parasols. But for all their immaculate facades and crisp white bed linen it was something less perfect that caught Laurel’s eye. Villa Athena, perched high on a cliff, overlooking a turquoise sea, looked a little tired – the bed linen had a definite whiff of the eighties and the décor was decidedly un-chic – but Laurel was drawn to its faded charm and its higgledy-piggledy feel. There was something about it that reminded her of Donna’s guest house in the film.

Laurel skim-read the reviews.

‘Quirky house but stunning location.’

‘A bit like an episode of Fawlty Towers.’

‘Owner is as mad as a box of frogs!’

And when she searched for Villa Athena on Google, the only result she found was via TripAdvisor – no website, Facebook or Twitter. It was as if the place didn’t exist, and yet Laurel was charmed and intrigued. She was about to check availability, when she felt a presence over her shoulder and heard the noisy clearing of someone’s throat.

‘How’s the Dental Award Ceremony coming along?’ asked Jacqui, who had appeared at Laurel’s side like a ninja.

‘Fine,’ said Laurel, quickly closing the window and removing her headphones, hoping Jacqui hadn’t spotted what she was looking at.

‘Good, because I need the full itinerary on my desk by end of day. Understood?’

‘Absolutely!’ Laurel shot Matt a look that said, ‘I thought you were meant to be my lookout, you git’, and returned to her work, even though all she could think of was a trip to Skopelos.

 

‘Only me,’ called Laurel, entering her apartment.

Tom, her grandmother’s ageing grey cat, slunk round the doorframe, his tail in the air, and meowed.

‘Have you had a good day?’ she asked, hanging her jacket on the back of the door.

He turned his back on Laurel and moseyed into the kitchen.

‘Mine was pretty average too,’ she said, removing her shoes and following him. ‘In case you wanted to know.’

Tom stood next to his food bowl, his green eyes staring at Laurel.

‘Hungry? What do you fancy?’ Laurel asked from the fridge, weighing up the cat-food options. ‘Two-day-old tuna or something pertaining to rabbit liver?’

Tom meowed.

‘Right,’ said Laurel, scraping the last of the tuna into his bowl. ‘I don’t fancy my options much either.’

With a ‘healthy eating’ prawn curry heating in the microwave, Laurel went to her bedroom which, if she opened the Velux windows and stood on tiptoes, afforded her a view of Clapham Common. She took off her work clothes and pulled on her mother’s dungarees, which always made her feel closer to her mum, and a bit like Donna, the character that Meryl played in the film, too.

The ping of the microwave took her back to the kitchen where she ate at her small table, Mamma Mia! on in the background, while browsing through a selection of brochures for the flats she planned to view at the weekend.

‘I don’t really like any of these flats,’ she said to Tom, when he’d finished eating and had sat down on the floor beside her, no doubt hoping for a prawn to come his way. ‘Plus they’re all ludicrously expensive. How could I fritter away all of Marnie’s money on just two hundred and fifty square feet?’

Although Laurel liked her job and loved her friends in London, she’d never quite felt she belonged there, and the more she looked at buying a flat in the city, the more she had a desire to go somewhere else. When her grandmother was alive, Harrogate had felt like home, but, having been through all the options of what to do with Marnie’s home: live in it; sell it; rent it out; Laurel had even toyed with turning it into her own little boutique hotel, she decided to put it on the market. There were too many memories and without Marnie, it didn’t feel like the home she’d loved.

Thinking of the trip to Skopelos, she pushed her supper aside and went to the framed picture of Marnie in her men’s jeans and a pink and purple Liberty shirt, which she kept on the shelving unit beside the one of her parents in their high-waisted jeans and polo necks.

‘Fancy a glass of wine?’ she asked her grandmother, taking down the picture and pouring herself a glass. She sat down on the sofa, Tom jumping up beside her, and stared at Marnie’s photo. She studied her violet eyes and every wrinkle around them, which her grandmother had spent hours trying to keep at bay with her beloved bottle of Olay, a scent Laurel would forever associate with her. If Marnie were here right now, Laurel knew she’d ask her three questions: Would buying a flat bring you happiness? Is that your dream? And, most importantly, what would Meryl do?

Stroking Tom from top to tail, it didn’t take long for Laurel to come up with the answers: the flat wouldn’t bring her happiness; her dream was to have her own boutique hotel, just like Donna’s; and Donna would be impulsive, spontaneous, and throw caution to the wind.

Taking a deep breath and feeling a thrill of nervous excitement, Laurel chucked the brochures in the bin and placed the photo of Marnie back on the shelf, before reaching for her phone and typing in ‘Villa Athena, Skopelos’. The image of the higgledy-piggledy guest house came up and Laurel found herself smiling. Without thinking, she clicked on TripAdvisor and navigated her way to the availability checker. When she discovered they had rooms free for the following two weeks, she booked it then and there. The rush of happiness she felt almost matched Meryl’s elation in the scene where she cavorted to ‘Dancing Queen’ with a feather boa round her neck. Laurel jumped up and, in her excitement, danced along to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!’, which was playing on the telly, shimmying her hips with her hands in the air.

Desperate to share her news with someone other than Tom, Laurel dialled her best friend.

‘Hi, hon,’ said Janey, her Yorkshire accent as strong as ever despite her years in London. ‘What’s going on?’

‘How do you feel about looking after Tom for a couple of weeks?’ Laurel asked, grinning from ear to ear and making silly faces at Tom.

‘I’d love to. Why?’

‘Because I’m off to Skopelos!’ said Laurel with a squeal, which made Tom bolt for the cat flap.

‘You’re kidding?!’

‘Nope. For once in my life I’m being spontaneous. Marnie and I always planned to go, so I’m going for her.’

‘I’m proud of you,’ said Janey, always supportive, but sounding excited too. ‘Not only would it have pleased Marnie, it’s exactly what Donna would have done!’

‘And whatever Donna does—’ said Laurel.

‘Laurel does too!’ They laughed in unison.

‘It’s exactly what you need – you might even meet your own Colin Firth!’

‘That I doubt, but I can forget about work, visit all the locations, find an ABBA-themed bar, and swim in the sea. It’s going to be great!’

Later, after she hung up the phone, Laurel poured herself another glass of wine, and hugged herself in anticipation. Whatever the next couple of weeks would bring, she was more than ready for an adventure.

 

2

 

‘Jacqui?’ Laurel knocked gently on her boss’s open door the next morning.

‘What is it, Laurel?’ Jacqui looked up from a hefty document on her desk.

Laurel wished she’d been a little less spontaneous last night, seeing Jacqui face to face she wondered why she’d booked a holiday without clearing it first. ‘HR told me I have to take my annual leave by the end of June or I’ll lose it.’

‘Uh-huh,’ she said, removing her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘They copied me in. I assume you’ve come to tell me you’re not taking it?’

Laurel laughed lightly at what she hoped was her boss’s very dry sense of humour. ‘Actually I’ve booked two weeks in Skopelos. I leave on Saturday,’ she said, nervously.

‘Lucky for some.’ Jacqui gestured for Laurel to sit.

Laurel sat with her hands neatly placed on her lap. ‘I’ve looked at the diary and I can have everything in order by the end of the week. I’ll make sure Matt has copies of everything.’

‘I’m sure you will. If anyone deserves a break it’s you.’

‘Thank you,’ said Laurel, touched by her boss’s kind comment. Jacqui was a bit of a peculiar character. She was exacting in her standards, had a quick temper, and her humour was as dry as the Sahara. But it hadn’t taken Laurel too long to figure her out and she rubbed along with her better than most in the department. Jacqui had always been fair to Laurel, and when Marnie had fallen ill she’d given Laurel her full support.

‘I had a holiday on a Greek island myself when I was about your age. I’m not so old as to have forgotten the fun one has in the sun,’ she said, with a twinkle.

‘I’m sure . . .’ Laurel wondered where Jacqui was going with this.

‘If you’re as lucky as me you might even find someone to enjoy it with! I once met this gorgeous guy, muscles like you wouldn’t believe—’

‘Well,’ said Laurel, her cheeks reddening, her boss lost in her memories. ‘Thanks, Jacqui, I should get on!’

Laurel beat a hasty retreat and, back at her desk, started tying up every loose end she could think of before she left.

‘It’s as if you’re planning on never coming back,’ observed Matt.

‘In my dreams!’ For all Laurel dreamed of owning her own hotel, she couldn’t quite imagine working anywhere other than The Higham, the place she’d worked since leaving university. Despite her flaws, Jacqui had been good to Laurel, promoting her regularly over the last six years.

‘You never know – all that sun, sea and sex might just go to your head.’

‘Hardly.’ Laurel couldn’t remember the last time she’d got laid, though the thought of a holiday romance with someone, after so many nights alone, was quite a nice one. She hadn’t had a relationship since she broke up with Phil three years ago, after he decided he’d prefer to spend his life photographing spiders in South America than sharing a one-bed with Laurel in London. There had been an uncharacteristic one-night stand sometime last year, which Laurel had tried desperately to erase from her memory without success.

With things at work in order, Laurel hit late-night shopping. The only swimming costume she owned was the black Speedo she’d had at school for swimming lengths of the punishingly cold pool. It was now threadbare and the Lycra had given up any sense of support years ago. More in need of support than ever, Laurel decided a new costume was in order.

‘Do you want a one piece or two?’ the department store assistant asked after Laurel had stared at costumes for the best part of ten minutes and come to no decision.

‘One,’ she said.

‘Oh,’ said the assistant, in a way that suggested that was the wrong answer.

‘Why?’

‘You’ve got a great bod,’ she said, in a drawling sort of voice.

‘You think?’

‘Sure. You should definitely go with a two piece.’

‘Oh, right, okay,’ said Laurel, wondering why she was agreeing given that she’d never worn a bikini in her entire life.

‘Something like this would be good.’ The assistant held up a bright pink bandeau bra and tiny briefs.

‘No. I need straps and bigger pants.’

The assistant rifled through the rail. ‘This would complement your skin tone,’ she said, holding up a padded bra in olive green with high-waisted ruched bottoms.

Deciding it was the best of a bad lot, Laurel went to the changing room where she stripped down to her underwear, trying the bikini over the top.

‘How’s it looking?’ the assistant called.

‘Fine. Good!’ Laurel called back, checking the lock on the door to ensure she couldn’t burst in and find Laurel with her M&S essentials poking out.

‘Great! Throw it over and I’ll wrap it for you,’ said the assistant, before Laurel had really made up her mind. She wasn’t sure how you were meant to tell if a bikini suited you from standing underneath a downlight in front of a three-way mir. . .