Life After You

Sian O'Gorman

Description

'Life After You really is the book with everything. A real 5 star read.' bestselling author, Claudia Carroll

What if the person you've lost, is the one you need to find?
Milly Bryne’s world came crashing down when she lost her beloved Dad and boyfriend in a matter of weeks.

Losing her Dad broke her family. Losing her soulmate made her give up on life and love.

After swerving from stability to chaos to despair, Milly finally believes she has her life back on track when the unexpected return of a familiar face to Dublin throws her life into a spin.

Milly is forced to decide if her new life is the one for her, or if there is another path that will bring even greater riches of joy, excitement and fun.

Life just isn’t worth living if your heart isn’t in it?

Meaningful and moving, a beautiful story with life-affirming qualities. Perfect for fans of Cecelia Ahern and Cathy Kelly.

What readers are saying about Life After You:

'Life After You really is the book with everything. Love, loss, heartbreak, heart mending, friendship, family and so much more. All told with Sian O’Gorman’s characteristic warmth and with a rich vein of honour running throughout. I can’t tell you the glorious hours I passed in lockdown, completely gripped by this book. A real 5 star read.' Claudia Carrol

Sujets

• Vie de famille
• Parentalité et Éducation des Enfants
• Soutien psychologique et conseils familiaux
• Mashups
• Bereavement
• Women
• Motherhood
• Coming of Age
• Friendship
• Contemporary history
• Romantic Comedy
• Family history
• General officer
• Ireland
• Parenting
• Woman
• The Women
• City Life
• Stephen Ireland
• General
• Holiday
• Grief
• Contemporary
• Family Life
• Romance
• Death
• Fiction
• Europe

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 15 septembre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781800483644
• Langue: English

Extrait

Life After You


Siân O’Gorman
For my brilliant friend, Kaz
If the sun refused to shine…
I would still be loving you
Mountains crumble to the sea

There would still be you and me
Led Zeppelin
Contents



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

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Epilogue


Acknowledgments

More from Siân O’Gorman

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
1

A low hum of chatter, the odd bray from the over-inebriated, the tinkling of Cole Porter from the grand piano in the corner, the soft lighting, the waft of the kind of perfume that hadn’t been bought as an after-thought in Duty Free, the pop of the champagne bottles. Siobhán held up her glass of fizz. ‘I could get used to this,’ she said, putting on a posh voice. ‘I may insist on always socialising in the Shelbourne.’
It was early April and there was a touch of spring in the air and we were both a little over-excited. It was a Tuesday which was enough to celebrate on its own, but we were at the launch of a new development for my boyfriend’s property company and although Ryan and I had been going out for three months, he and Siobhán were yet to meet.
She’d already peered across the room at him as he shook hands with and chatted to some of the other guests. ‘He’s handsome,’ she said, approvingly. ‘The kind of cheekbones that make him look like he’s sucking on a lemon or an eighties popstar.’
Siobhán and I had been best friends since our third year of high school when we both realised we shared a hatred of hockey and a love of talking to each other. We’d lived with each other many times over the years, her moving in with me when my then boyfriend, Darragh, left me five years earlier. Her partner, George, was often to be found on our sofa – normally asleep, wrecked from his early starts in a bakery.
Siobhán’s arm darted out to nab a handful of canapés as a tray bobbed past our heads. She handed one to me. ‘Being a corporate lawyer, you probably eat like this all the time,’ she said, mouth full, ‘expense-account lunches…’
‘I’m lucky if I get ten minutes to buy a sandwich. Normally, it’s just me and Catriona working through.' Catriona was my boss, one of the partners at my law firm McCoyMcAvoy. I’d worked there since getting onto the graduate scheme, and had slowly made my way up to being junior to the firm’s only female partner. As corporate lawyers, we bent the rules to nearly breaking point, discovering legal loopholes and building cases so rock-solid that we always ensured our clients got their way.
‘Lunch is the most important meal of the day,’ Siobhán reminded me.
‘I thought it was breakfast.’
She held up a canapé. ‘No, I forgot. Nibbles and snacks are the best meal of the day.’ She grinned at me. ‘Can’t live without snacks.’
‘I’d die .’
‘We’d die together for the want of a good snack… talking of which, these are very nice, very nice indeed!’
Siobhán was small, with long, waterfall-wavy red hair, and always wore bright red lipstick. I was tall, with shoulder length light brown hair which I tied back for work, with minimal make-up. She wore long skirts and chunky cardigans and dangly earrings, whereas I couldn’t remember the last time I wore anything that wasn’t sensible. I couldn’t remember the last time I had done something that wasn’t sensible. But, then again, I was the one who’d signed up to be a lawyer and being sensible was part of the deal. Except, I wouldn’t mind some fun. It was exactly why I insisted on Siobhan coming tonight. It was at least something .
Siobhán, on the other hand, had a far more interesting job editing a feminist magazine, The Monthly . But it was stressful and challenging, considering that publishing costs kept increasing and readers diminishing. Her dream was to go to New York, one day. She’d been talking about it ever since I first met her, but her boyfriend, George, wouldn’t ever move and therefore Siobhán was stuck in Dublin. Meanwhile, I spent my days fantasising about being sacked and having to get a job with a florist or a newsagent. Any place where I wouldn’t have to meet some smooth, overly confident property developer in a suit, like most of my clients.
Ironic really, because Ryan, my boyfriend, was exactly that.
Siobhán looked thoughtful. ’What did you say Catriona’s star sign was again?’
‘Capricorn.’ I’d worked it out when Catriona went to Paris for a long weekend with her husband, Noel, and she admitted that, much as she hated going away, he’d made her because it was her fortieth.
Siobhán nodded sagely. ‘Yes, that makes a lot of sense, she exhibits a lot of Capricorn tendencies…’
What exactly are Capricorn tendencies?’ Horoscopes were one of Siobhán’s latest passions and in the last few months she’d made me fill out several charts, plotting exactly what my constellation was and she was delighted – ‘I knew it!’ – to find that we were a perfect match. Siobhán oscillated between several horoscope apps on her phone and her interest had ramped up recently, these days relying on them to guide her through life. I wished I could find something to believe in so wholeheartedly.
‘Oh, you know…’ she said airily this evening, with the wisdom of a woman who has been around. ‘Workaholics, generally. But I’m worried about you,’ she went on. ‘Being a Libra with multiple moons in Taurus.’ She shook her head. ‘You need to take advantage of Mercury going retrograde in the next few weeks. Things have been known to go crazy.’
‘Oh God…’ I had to pretend to take this seriously, that’s what friends did, right? Siobhán, after all, had been the very best of friends to me.
‘Just be careful.’ She smiled at me, and drained her glass of champagne.
‘I’ll try.’
Siobhán looked around at our fellow guests, most of them corporate bankers, international investment types, all cloned, manicured, preened and primped within an inch of their indeterminate life, faces smoother than a baby’s bottom. ‘It’s like being at a convention for people who are half toddler, half pensioner,’ she said. ‘It’s unsettling.’ She drank more of her champagne. ‘So, what’s this evening all about then? Why are we being plied with free fizz and nibbles?’
‘Dublin Investments, Ryan and his mother Carole’s company,’ I explained, ‘is entertaining potential new clients for their new development.’
‘You mean apartments?’ Siobhán rolled her eyes. ‘Like Dublin needs more overpriced shoeboxes. I mean, our flat is an overpriced shoebox, but I’ve seen smaller, and more expensive.’
‘No, this is different,’ I said. ‘They are looking for old properties, heritage sites, that they can buy for next to nothing and then do up. It’s all luxury living, with a concierge service and a gym in the basement.’
Siobhán tried and failed to arrange her face into a polite expression. ‘I’m sure it will all be very nice,’ she said. ‘Anyway…’ She swiped two glasses of champagne from another passing tray, ‘… it’s just nice to be out of the house. George is probably already asleep on his sofa in front of EastEnders , his curried chips cooling on the plate resting on his stomach.’
I laughed. ‘But you love him really ,’ I teased.
‘Course I do!’ she said. ‘Who wouldn’t love George! Anyway, all I meant was, it’s good to be out, having fun …’
Fun? I couldn’t remember what fun was. Since Dad died, I had worked as hard as I could, spending long hours in the office, going in for weekends. Which was good for my career and meant that Catriona hand-picked me to become her junior, but it meant little time for a social life. It was the beginning of April now, but on New Year’s Eve, I’d made a resolution to not work weekends and try and find a boyfriend. And the following week, at a property developer luncheon, a horrible thing where speeches were overlong and everyone overfed and overwatered… I met Ryan.
It was his mother, Carole, who first introduced herself to Catriona and me and insisted we met her son. And the next day, Ryan rang up to ask me out. And I forced myself to say yes. And I quite liked having a boyfriend after all this time. We were taking things very slowly, keeping to ourselves during the week, but normally spending Friday evenings together and then I would stay over at his coach house, which was in the grounds of his parents’ (Carole and his stepfather Roger) rather grand house.
‘Carole looks absolutely terrifying,’ said Siobhán, looking across to where Ryan’s mother stood talking to someone.
‘Carole’s lovely,’ I lied, smiling.
‘You’re not smizing ,’ said Siobhán.
‘Smizing?’
‘Smiling with your eyes. A smile is only a smile if the eyes are involved.’
I tried again. ‘Is that better?’
‘Not really.’
‘How about this?’ I attempted to get my eyes in on the act.
‘A little improvement,’ she said. ‘It’s something I have been working on in my quest to be more charming. Not that you need any help in that department.’ She winked at me. ‘You always look good. It’s that smile of yours.’
But I secretly agreed with Siobhán as I too had detected something monstrous about the five foot nothing Carole. In her tight, glossy suits and stiletto heels, with her beady, unsettling eyes, Carole was like a shark sniffing out blood. Just the previous week, she’d presented me with a carrier bag. ‘Just a