Page 130 of The Next Chapter

‘What about if you did me? My memoirs, I mean,’ he quickly tacks on. ‘Do you think that would make you some money? We could just skip over, you know…’ He waves a hand towards me.

Seb has stopped walking.

‘You want us to write your memoirs?’ he asks.

‘I don’t see why not. I’m not Lola, but there are things I want to say. Stuff I was told to keep quiet, you know.’

I do not see it coming, but suddenly Seb has his hands on either side of Ashton’s head. He leans down and kisses him with one big, exaggerated kiss on the mouth.

‘Yes!’ he says, while Ashton looks at him wide-eyed. ‘Finally, some good news for me. My therapist is going to love this.’

Everyone laughs.

‘I just need to check on Elton, then I’ll get the picnic things ready,’ I tell them all, walking a little faster to get ahead.

By some miracle, Elton is still alive. He actually lives with Mr Cains now, and holidays, occasionally, with me. Everyone seemed happier with that arrangement, especially Elton.

I guess, sometimes it’s important to know when to let go.

But Mr Cains is visiting his brother, and I didn’t want to leave him for the whole summer, so I’d seriously upgraded his travel basket and then given him some cat Valium for the journey. He’s formed an unlikely friendship with the blind chicken. It’s all very peculiar.

‘Is anyone else bringing food?’ Harper asks loudly.

‘I have some stuff,’ Seb answers.

‘Thank fuck for that.’ Harper high fives him. ‘There’s only so much grass we can eat.’

‘It’s salad!’ Lola and I call after her.

I make my way back to the cottage, the gardens now much neater since Lola hired a gardener, Noah following behind me. We’re sharing a cottage this summer; Seb is in the other one for a couple of weeks.

‘You good?’ Noah asks into the back of my neck as I work the door to the cottage.

I hum, liking the feel of his proximity. ‘I’m great,’ I tell him as he plants a kiss on my shoulder.

Things with Noah are much more certain than they were last year. It had taken some figuring out, and one giant wall calendar which I don’t hate at all, but we have a system now. Noah took the job with the Guardian, and while he still gets to travel, it’s for shorter periods. The month we spent apart while he was in Italy was enough for us to know we don’t want to be apart a huge amount. Sometimes, I even go with him, and – probably unsurprisingly for everyone but me – I always have a good time. I even discovered it’s a bit of a skill: Noah says that no one can nail down a three-day travel itinerary as efficiently as me.

‘Ready?’ I ask, gathering all the tubs of salad in my arms.

Noah tucks a bit of wayward hair behind my ear. ‘Ready,’ he answers, smiling. ‘It’s nice, having this little bit of peace before the madness starts tomorrow.’

‘Agreed.’ I go to follow him.

The race that Noah had wanted to reinstate is happening tomorrow. It turns out that opening a race involves a lot of paperwork and an insane amount of health and safety. It’s been heaven. I lost a whole day amidst the hotel archives. There’s a display now in the lobby, showing off its history, an addition to the three-pronged plan.

In fact, Lola’s pretty much followed the plan to the letter and the hotel is busy again. Except for this week. This week it’s just us.

‘Come on, then, let’s go feed our family.’

Because that’s what they are. Seb, Harper, Lola, Noah. They’re friends who have become a part of my family.

For some people, the things that they want in life come easily, dropped into their lap like a gift from some higher power. That hasn’t been the case for me and Noah, or my parents, or Lola, for that matter. We’ve all had to fight for the things we want and for the people we love. It hasn’t always been easy, and it won’t always be smooth. But maybe, just maybe, the very best things never are.