You Me Everything

by Catherine Isaac

Genres: Family Life; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

You and me, we have history.

We have a child together.

We have kept secrets from each other for far too long.

This summer, in the beautiful hills of the Dordogne, it is time for everything to change.

You Me Everything is a heartfelt and unforgettable story about the lengths we are prepared to go to for those we love. Guaranteed to make you laugh and cry, this is a novel you will never forget.

Release date: May 1, 2018

Publisher: Penguin Books

Print pages: 384

Sample

***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof*** Copyright © 2018 Catherine Isaac

Chapter 5

Stone steps lead us up to the heavy set of doors and into a cool reception hall tiled in weathered stone.

We approach a long, ancient-looking desk upon which sits a glass bowl of billowing, heavily scented white blooms and a snowy blotting pad. The chair behind it is empty, which William takes as his cue to ping the silver bell several times.

We’re greeted by a young woman wearing a short black skirt, semisheer white blouse and ballet pumps. She has plump, dewy skin, gleaming teeth and long blond hair scraped back like the tail on a dressage pony.

“Can I help you?” She’s English, with a high, confident voice that suggests privilege and breeding. I’d put her in her midtwenties. She’s not skinny by any means, but not a bit of her wobbles, except the bits that are meant to. They wobble quite a bit.

“We’re booked into one of the cottages. The name’s Pendleton. Jessica.”

Her face breaks into the sort of smile you’d expect on hearing the news that there are no calories in chocolate Easter eggs. “Jess! I’m Simone.”

She puts down her pen, marches round the desk and throws her arms round me. This strikes me as quite an approach to customer service, particularly given that I’m getting this holiday for free.

“And you must be William!”

William shuffles in his spot. “Yes.”

She keeps grinning. “You really look like your dad.”

He looks pleased. “Oh.”

“Honestly, you’re the spitting image. Just gorgeous.” William’s cheeks are now crimson. “Well, I’m over the moon to meet you both. And William, I’m sure I’ll get to know you better, because I’ve managed to persuade Adam that we should start some children’s activities this summer, and I’ll be organizing them.”

William grins again. In fact, you could put a pencil in the dimples in his cheeks and it’d stay put. “If you like soccer, you’re in the right place. Would you like me to sign you up?”

William is the only child in his class, and probably in the entire eighty-nine-year history of his school, who is not even vaguely interested in the game. The closest he’s ever come to a sporting achievement is joining the school debate team.

“Um. . . yes,” he replies. I do a double take.

“What team do you support?”

He swallows. “Manchester.”

“City or United?” she asks.

“Um. . . both.”

She giggles, and so does he. She returns to the desk and clicks on her computer. “Right, let’s get you checked into your cottage.” As luxurious as the château is, I’m glad not to be staying there, where I know Adam has his office. It feels too close for comfort.

“There’s a third person booked in with you too, is that right?”

“That’s my friend Natasha, but she’s not joining us for another week or so.”

“Ah, of course. Well, the rooms are all ready. I can take you over there now.”

She disappears into an office to grab a key, then tells us to follow her outside, back into incandescent sunshine. There, she leaps into a golf cart as William and I slip into my car to follow her.

“Well, she was friendly, wasn’t she?” I say.

“Yes, and she smelled lovely,” William replies enthusiastically, to which I can’t think of an appropriate answer.

The road snakes around the château to a beautiful pool, dotted with sunflower yellow loungers and matching umbrellas. There are a handful of young families there, toddlers in Breton stripe surf suits and kids who look William’s age, splashing in the deep end.

It is overlooked by a terraced bar area, with a handful of tables and chairs, shaded by a canopy of climbing honeysuckle in full, scented bloom. On the far side, I can see a tennis court, a sports pitch and a Crayola-colored play area, all flanked by well-kept gardens and romantic beds of rambling roses and daisies.

I spot a signpost to “Les Écuries”—The Stables—as I follow Simone’s cart towards a wooded area. The temperature drops in the shade of the trees, and after a short drive we reach a small car park next to a clutch of stone buildings with pale blue shutters and individual patios full of white geraniums arranged around an attractive courtyard.

“It’s gorgeous,” I tell Simone as we cross the dusty courtyard to the door right at the end. “How many cottages are there?”

“Twenty-one. Some of them are two bedroom, others three. They’re not all in the stable block though—the old servants’ quarters on the other side of the grounds have been renovated too.” She leans in and whispers: “These are the nicest though. And they’re only a few minutes’ walk to the château if you take the path through the woods.”

She slides a cast iron key into a heavy wooden door and pushes it open. Inside, the cottage is simple and rustic, with a pale tiled floor throughout and an open-plan living room and kitchen. The dominant feature is a big, old-fashioned fireplace in front of which two small blue sofas are arranged. There’s a big dining table and a functional but sweet-looking kitchen, with a deep ceramic sink, cast iron pots hanging on the wall and worktops made of thick slabs of oak. The bedrooms are whitewashed and beamed, with pretty patterned bedspreads and enamel vases.

“It’s lovely. Thank you,” I say as William lays claim to his bedroom.

“Adam will be so glad you like it,” she replies.

“So. . . where is he?”

“Oh! I was meant to say: he had something on this afternoon,” she replies vaguely. “He wanted to be here when you arrived, but it was unavoidable.” I bite the inside of my mouth and nod politely.
Somehow, it always is.