This is a Love Story (51 page)

‘Thank you,’ I replied, so choked with emotion I could barely say it.

I hung up.

Nick

Road signs seemed to blur into one. Hedges and glittering streetlights were bleeding into each other. I was walking faster and

faster now, but it wasn’t getting me there soon enough. I started to run. My feet pounded against the pavement, making great

slapping noises as I struck the water under my shoes. The streets were deserted and cars were few and far between. Nothing could

get in my way. One more corner . . .

I stood at the entrance to her block of flats and stopped suddenly, my heart beating so fast I feared it could explode. I bent over,

my hands on my knees, desperate to catch my breath. This is the right thing to do, Nick, I told myself as I slowly pulled my body up

again. Lights were glowing from some of the windows, but hers was dark. What if she’d decided to go out? No, surely not . . . Fear

suddenly kicked in. Trepidation. The unknown.

I pushed the door to get inside; the locking system hadn’t worked for years. The stairs seemed to go on forever, but eventually,

after climbing what felt like the emergency steps in Canary Wharf, I was finally at the top, my gasping lungs echoing in the hallway.

I stared at her front door and paused. I must be mad. I should turn back. Yes, I should go home. It was too soon. What was I

thinking? I stood there for a moment, listening to the sound of my own heart beating.

Sienna

I’m going to go round there. But I need to look good. All this crying has given my skin a ghostly hue and I haven’t given my

hair any real attention in weeks. This was no way to woo the man of your dreams. No way at all.

I rushed into my room and tipped out the contents of my make-up box, frantically rifling through dozens of pencils and pots for

some much-needed foundation. That would help. Then maybe he wouldn’t think Halloween had arrived early and throw sweets

through the letterbox in a desperate bid to get rid of me. Colour. That was what I required. I squeezed a big blob of foundation onto

my fingers and started to rub it into my skin. I was shaking so much this proved very difficult. Eventually it seemed even enough.

Then I dipped a big brush into a tin of bronzing powder; I was so clumsy I managed to knock a load of it onto my sheets. Oh

well. Who cares. I’ll buy new sheets. I pushed the soft bristles against my face, swirling it over my cheeks and forehead. I was

starting to look a little less like I’d been locked in a slimy dungeon for the summer and more like I’d spent a season in Ibiza. That

was more like it. Mascara – now this was the toughest bit. I was trembling so much I managed to miss my eyelashes completely and

jab the wand into my eye socket, covering my skin in sooty blackness, which seemed to multiply every time I blinked. Bollocks. I

quickly wiped it away and started again. Come on, Sienna, pull yourself together.

Eventually a pair of thick, black lashes sprung out from my eyelids. I was starting to look human again. I pulled the band from my

head, my hair flowing over my shoulders as it was released from its ponytail. I ran a brush through it, backcombing it a little so it had

a bit more body.

Another wave of nerves swept over me. I felt sick. Doubts were creeping into my head. What if he didn’t feel that way any more?

What if I wasn’t enough for him? And then I remembered the dress, hanging in the wardrobe. OK, it hadn’t helped me much at the

Christmas party, but maybe that was missing the point. Maybe, if I could just put it on, it would make me feel better. That was what

the strange ex-ballerina had said, wasn’t it? That whenever I felt scared or downtrodden I should imagine I was wearing the dress . .

.

I walked over to my wardrobe, pulled the doors open and there it was. My eyes were greeted with an electric flash of the most

beautiful green ripples of fabric. Just like water. Yes, I was going to put the dress on. I wouldn’t wear it to his house, because that

would be weird. But I could wear it for a few minutes and then get changed again. Hmm, I’d probably had a bit too much to drink,

but I was going to do it anyway.

I rushed out of my clothes, abandoning them in a messy pile at my feet and stepped into the dress. The soft material slid over my

legs as I pulled it up around my neck. It was perfect apart from a tinge of cigarette smoke still clinging to the fabric.

I love this dress, I thought. All of a sudden all the memories of the Christmas party, and Ben leaving me the way he did, vanished

to make way for new ones.

Soon I was standing in front of the full-length mirror, looking at a version of myself I hadn’t realised existed. She was right. And

all I wished was that my father could see me now . . . This really was the dress that would change my life. OK, I wouldn’t be

wearing it when I told Nick I loved him, but I would in my mind. I rose to my tiptoes and did a twirl, the green silk splaying all

around me like the petals of a flower. I took a deep breath and felt all the tension rushing from my lungs. That will do, I thought,

staring at myself in the mirror. I’d better get changed now. No time for fancy dress . . . My vanity was interrupted by a knock at the

door.

Nick

I did it. My body was telling me no, but somehow my heart took the reins and I knocked at the door. The brand-new door I’d

fitted to replace the one I’d had to bash down, nearly breaking my arm in the process.

I felt sick. Terrified. Water was dripping from my clothes, my hair, and creating a small pool at my feet. I looked a state.

Eventually the door slowly opened, and there was Sienna. She was wearing the dress. You know, that dress. The way she looked in

it literally took my breath away. I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. Hard.

Looking at her now, she was what all the romantic writers of the past hundred years had been trying to immortalise.

She seemed shocked. Embarrassed, even. She blushed suddenly as she stood there with her mouth open. It wasn’t, initially, a look

of happiness. My legs felt like jelly and my breathing was so laboured now my chest was visibly rising up and down. Sod it. I was

going to tell her anyway. It was too late to pretend I needed to borrow some sugar.

‘I love you, Sienna. I’m sorry but I bloody love you,’ I said, between gulps of much-needed air.

Our eyes were locked. She said nothing for a moment. Silence. I hoped the girl I knew so well would not be a stranger to me

now.

Slowly a smile spread across her face. The biggest one I had ever seen. She reached her hands out towards me, great waves of

fabric swishing forward as she did so.

‘I love you too, Nick. So, so much you wouldn’t believe it,’ she replied, tears filling her eyes.

Oh my God. Pete was right. I didn’t know what to say so I rushed forwards through the door. I held her face, dripping water all

over her and the dress. She pulled me close to her, digging her fingers into my wet back. I wanted to kiss her, right then and there,

but I couldn’t just yet. I had to savour the moment. I was breathing hard onto her nose and her cheeks as I pressed my mouth to her

face, holding her hair in my hands.

‘Nick, is this a dream?’ she asked, pulling away and looking into my eyes, tears spilling over her skin.

I didn’t say a word, I just picked her up slowly and held her against the wall, looking deep into her eyes. I could feel her softness

beneath the green silk that trailed down and tickled the floor.

The door was wide open. We didn’t care. A thief could come in and take everything, slide past us with the TV in his arms and

gold jewellery hanging out of his backpack and we wouldn’t have stopped him. Because the truth is, this is love, and it doesn’t

matter if you lose everything. Your job. Your home. Your car. Not as long as you have that person by your side.

I buried my face in her neck as she wrapped her legs around me, her back pressed against the blue wallpaper. We stared at each

other for a few moments, before I softly kissed her lips.

‘Please don’t go anywhere. I need you, Nick. I love you, I love you, I love you,’ she said breathlessly.

And I just knew this would be the happiest moment of my life.

What an exciting time writing this book has been. I have so many people to thank for taking a chance on me, supporting me and

inspiring me along the way.

I would like to thank Mark Booth from Coronet at Hodder & Stoughton for opening his local paper and providing a window of

opportunity that I was able to seize. I have so much gratitude to him for passing my work to Sheila Crowley at the Curtis Brown

agency. Sheila and her colleagues have been a constant support throughout the whole journey, and I cannot thank them enough.

Huge thanks to Charlotte Hardman, my editor at Coronet, who has been patient, understanding and inspiring with her advice and

guidance. I have been hugely blessed with the team around me.

My family have been incredible and I would like to say thank you to my father Graham and mother Bea for putting up with my

regular phone calls and general fretting, and for having immovable confidence in me. To my sisters Angela and Helen, and my

brothers Greg and Richard for being great examples and inspirations to me as I grew up. If I have adopted just some of the best traits

of all of you, I will be a very lucky girl. Huge love to my nieces and nephews and the rest of my family, especially my aunt and

uncle who have always encouraged me to follow my dreams.

I have a network of wonderful girlfriends for whom every day I am thankful to know. They have no idea how much their support

has meant – in whatever form, from drinks and dinner to messy cooking nights indoors (sorry about the mess Lou!). So massive

thanks to Louise, Jenny, Jess, Danielle, Mia, Natalie, the two Lucys, Claire, Becky, Emma, Hannah, the two Jos, Shelley, Marika,

Alice, Debbie, Vanda and Shona. There are so many more names to mention, and you all know who you are even if you are not

here in print. Thank you.

Huge thanks to the north London gang who have made me laugh during wonderfully long and lazy Sunday lunches, particular

thanks to Rob, Jon, Emma, Ozz, Ali, Phil and of course Enrico the cat. I hope there will be many more great weekends to come.

A huge thank you to Tim, who has never stopped believing in me. The feeling is mutual. Also thanks to Dee, who inspired me to

create a character with narcolepsy, I hope George brings about some more knowledge and awareness of the illness.

Thanks to Shona at Sevenoaks Ladies Joggers who helped me discover running, which in turn helped me to discover

perseverance and self-belief.

And finally, thanks to Nick, Sienna, and all the fictional characters in this book, who came to life as I wrote and formed their own

beautiful and intriguing personalities.