Before You Go

Clare Swatman

Description

'A beautifully written tale of enduring love'

When you’re meant to be together forever, you want forever to start today.

Zoe and Ed were made for each other. After meeting at college and having a whirlwind romance, their lives travel on separate, parallel paths, but always destined to meet. When love does finally strike, Zoe and Ed are sure they will be together forever.

Then the unthinkable happens – one morning, on his way to work, Ed is knocked off his bike and dies. Zoe is left facing a lifetime of what-ifs and could-have-beens. How can she let go of all the memories they made, all the missed chances they’d had to be together…

But what if Zoe had the chance to revisit all their important days again, the chance to say all the things she never said? And what if Zoe had the chance to change Ed’s destiny…

Clare Swatman’s heart-breaking novel is an unforgettable tale of sliding doors, a life well lived, and a forever love. Perfect for fans of Jojo Moyes, Sophie Cousens and Isabelle Broom.

Praise for Clare Swatman:

'A beautifully written tale of enduring love' - Rowan Coleman

'Irresistible… A delightfully bittersweet story that will appeal to fans of One Day' - Sunday Mirror

'Wonderful' – Sun

'Before We Grow Old is an unashamedly big, life-affirming, tear-jerking love story. Beautifully told, characters Fran and Will had me from the first page, and crying buckets by the last ! Just gorgeous.' Katy Regan

‘Through her beautiful writing, Clare Swatman delivers a powerful lesson in learning to love with your whole heart and accepting the same, no matter what life throws at you.' Sarah Bennett

'Before We Grow Old took me on an intense emotional journey, and I cried at the end (and I rarely cry when I'm reading!).' Victoria Scott

Sujets

• Fantastique
• Romance fantastique
• Vie de famille
• Parentalité et Éducation des Enfants
• Relations familiales
• Mashups
• New Adult
• Feminist
• Women
• Coming of Age
• Friendship
• Contemporary history
• Romantic Comedy
• General officer
• Woman
• Feminism
• Disaster
• The Women
• General
• 2023
• Contemporary
• 2022
• Family Life
• Romance
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 07 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781804266076
• Langue: English

Extrait

BEFORE YOU GO



CLARE SWATMAN
For Tom, Jack and Harry
CONTENTS



Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue


Acknowledgments

More from Clare Swatman

Also by Clare Swatman

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
PROLOGUE
29 JUNE 2013

It’s a hot day, the bright sunshine in stark contrast to the sombre mood. Zoe’s face is pale, expressionless, as she climbs out of the black car and makes her way unsteadily towards the low brick building in front of her. Her mother Sandra hurries to catch up, and grips her daughter protectively by the elbow.
A huddle of people, their shadows shortened by the midday sun, stand to the right of the doors. Zoe can’t tell who they are, as the bright light has turned them into nothing more than silhouettes, but one or two are smoking, blowing uneven puffs into the warm summer air. They watch as Zoe approaches, and one gives a tight smile in greeting. Zoe doesn’t notice.
Inside, mother and daughter make their way stiffly towards the front row. Zoe’s mother-in-law Susan is already there. Her eyes are red and puffy, despite the carefully applied make-up, and she manages a weak smile as they sit down next to her. Instinctively Zoe reaches out and grabs her hand and clutches it tightly on the seat between them.
Behind them they can hear the shuffles and sniffs and murmurs of the other mourners as they move to take their seats. But it’s what’s in front of them that holds all their attention: Ed’s coffin, sitting proudly on a table at the front of the room. Zoe stares at the innocuous wooden box and finds it impossible to believe that the body of her husband, so strong, so vibrant, so alive, is actually contained in there. It’s totally unreal.
It’s totally unfair.
It had been hot the day he died too. Zoe had been rushing round the flat, as always, throwing things into her bag: laptop, diary, apple, mobile, Diet Coke, book, iPad.
‘Put any more in that and you’re going to need a packhorse to get it to work,’ Ed had mumbled through his toothbrush. A line of toothpaste had dribbled down his chin and plopped onto the floorboards.
She rolled her eyes.
‘For God’s sake, Ed,’ she said, feeling her temper rising. She’d known she was overreacting, that he was only trying to lighten the mood, but she couldn’t help herself. She stomped into the bathroom, unrolled a length of toilet paper and bent down to mop the dribbled toothpaste off the floor. As she rubbed, her nail caught on a floorboard and ripped.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ she muttered, feeling the anger rise in her throat like bile. She stood up and stomped back into the bathroom, yanked the bathroom cabinet open and rummaged around for the nail scissors. She was late, Ed was pissing her off, and she just needed to get out of the flat. Scissors located, she clipped the hanging nail, threw them back in the cabinet and slammed the door.
Marching out of the bathroom, she could see Ed skulking in the living room trying to stay out of her way. She couldn’t blame him. She was always angry these days, an unexplained rage that bubbled beneath the surface, ready to explode at any moment. But knowing it was there didn’t mean she could keep it in; it was the hormones, she knew. Always the bloody hormones.
She yanked the cupboard door open and reached for her sandals. As she stuck her head into the wardrobe she heard Ed’s muffled voice saying something from the other room.
‘What?’ she snapped, tilting her head to hear him better. He appeared at the door, clipping his cycling helmet to his head.
‘I’m going to work. See you later.’
‘Bye.’ Brief, curt. She wasn’t in the mood for a conversation, and Ed knew it. He turned and left. Seconds later the door slammed and she heard rattling as he unlocked his bike then pedalled away. Her heart did a little flip of regret but she ignored it and turned back to the wardrobe.
And that was the last time she’d seen him alive.
It wasn’t until later that she’d heard the news. She’d been in a meeting all morning, and when she came out, her boss Olive was waiting at her desk, her face ashen.
‘Olive? Is everything OK?’ Zoe said.
Olive said nothing for a few seconds, and Zoe started to feel worried. Had she made a mistake with something? Was she in serious trouble?
‘Come with me,’ Olive said. Her voice was gentle and soothing rather than harsh and angry, which made Zoe even more confused. They walked back into the meeting room Zoe had just left and Olive closed the door behind her.
‘Sit down,’ she said, gesturing to the chair next to her, taking one herself. ‘Please.’
Zoe pulled the chair out and perched on the edge of it nervously. Her hands had started to shake.
‘Zoe, I don’t know how to tell you this,’ Olive said, without preamble. ‘There’s been an accident. It’s Ed. He was hit by a bus.’
She stopped and Zoe held her breath, wanting Olive to say the next words quickly, to get them over with; yet not wanting to hear them, not really, not out loud.
A gentle knock on the door broke the terrible silence and Zoe almost jumped out of her seat. Olive rushed to open it. Zoe turned too, and as she did, her world fell apart.
Two police officers stood in the doorway. They were asking for her.
A strangled sob escaped her mouth instead of words. She tried to stand up but her legs wouldn’t support her and she fell back onto the chair. Her hands shook and as the female police officer came into the room Zoe looked up at Olive, her eyes begging her to tell her there had been a terrible, awful mistake. But Olive couldn’t meet her gaze.
Zoe stared at the police officer’s shoes. They were polished to such a shine that the glare from the strip lights overhead was reflected back brightly in their toes. She thought about this woman getting ready for work that morning, standing in her kitchen, buffing her shoes to a shine, thinking about the day ahead. Had she imagined that later that day she’d have to tell someone their husband had died?
She continued to say nothing, gazing at the floor.
‘Zoe?’ a voice said.
She looked up. Three faces were looking at her, waiting for her to say something.
‘I… I…’ The words wouldn’t come out. ‘Where is he?’ she finally croaked.
Relieved finally to have something to say, the male police officer stepped forward a foot. ‘He was taken to the Royal Free,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry, but he… there was nothing the doctors could do.’ He paused. ‘We can take you there if you like?’
Numb, Zoe nodded and stood up. Olive raced towards her, eager to have something useful to do.
‘Let’s go and get your stuff, love,’ she said, taking Zoe by the elbow and steering her to the door.
At her desk Zoe bent to pick her bag off the floor, scooped her cardigan from the back of her chair, and scanned the desk to make sure she’d left nothing behind.
Then she and Olive followed the officers as they led her out of the office and Olive helped her into the waiting police car. The street was oddly quiet. In the back of her mind she knew she had to let people know what was happening, so as the car rumbled quietly towards the hospital she’d tapped in a familiar number. Jane first. Her best friend.
‘Hey,’ she said, picking up after the first ring. Her voice was light and bright, and it sounded so incongruous Zoe gasped.
‘Zo, what’s wrong?’
‘E…’ Her voice cracked and she struggled to get the words out. ‘It’s Ed. He’s… there’s been an accident and…’ She couldn’t finish. She couldn’t say the word. She didn’t need to.
‘Fuck, Zo, where are you? I’m coming.’
‘Royal Free.’ Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
‘I’m on my way.’
As she ended the call they pulled up outside the hospital. No time to ring anyone else. The sun was low behind the brown brick building, giving it a strangely Gothic feel silhouetted against the bright sky. She climbed out of the car. Her legs shook and she stumbled and the female police officer – she wished she could remember her name – took her elbow to steady her. They walked together towards the doors and as they closed behind her Zoe felt as though she was being swallowed into hell.
She was led to a bank of chairs in a small room tucked away in the depths of the hospital. As she waited she stared blindly at the posters on the wall for bereavement counselling and depression, reading the words but not taking them in. The effort of keeping her mind empty was taking all the strength she had. Then she heard a familiar voice and looked up and there was Jane. She ran towards her across the tiny room and then their arms were wrapped tightly round each other and Zoe was sobbing: huge, jerking, body-wracking sobs that felt as though they were going to break her in two.
‘He… he’s dead,’ she gulped through thick, snotty tears.
‘Oh Zoe, Zoe, Zoe,’ Jane said as she held her dearest friend and rubbed her back firmly. They stayed like that until Zoe’s sobs subsided, then they sat, holding hands.
‘I was so horrible to him this morning,’ Zoe said as her breath began to even out. ‘He couldn’t even look at me. He hated me, Jane.’
‘Zoe, Ed would never have hated you. He adored you, and he knew you loved him. Please don’t think like that.’
‘But I was so angry with him and he hadn’t done anything wrong. I didn’t even say goodbye and now he’s gone and I can never tell him how much I love him. It’s too late. What the hell am I going to do?’
Before Jane could answer the doctor was there and they were being led to where Ed was, to identify his body. Zoe listened in a daze as doctors explained Ed had been hit by a bus, that he’d stood no chance, that he’d been dead on arrival at hospital. The words ‘massive brain trauma’ and ‘nothing we could do’ drifted in and out of her head but she couldn’t bear to think