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One More Chapter
a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2021
Copyright © Julie Caplin 2021
Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2021
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Julie Caplin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008431235
Ebook Edition © January 2021 ISBN: 9780008431228
Version: 2020-11-09
Contents
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Part II
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
Part III
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Acknowledgments
Recipe: Basler Kirschenbrottorte
Thank you for reading…
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About the Author
Also by Julie Caplin
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About the Publisher
For my sister, Lynda, the chalk to my cheese, funny, kind and amazingly resilient, who deserves to be nothing but happy.
Chapter One
This was going to be a night to remember, Mina decided as she perched rather precariously on a chair and draped the little piñata fairy lights over the top of the archway from the kitchen into the dining area. They were the perfect finishing touch.
‘Looking good,’ said her sister, Hannah, appearing in the doorway clutching a bulging carrier bag.
‘You’re back.’ Mina jumped down from the chair with a thump, belatedly remembering the neighbours below, and clapped her hands together, excitement getting the better of her. ‘Did you get a bottle? I can’t believe I forgot that. I mean, seriously, a Mexican evening without tequila! Actually, maybe I should have asked you to get two.’
‘One bottle will be fine. Everyone will bring booze and you’ve got a crate of Corona. I don’t think anyone’s going to be thirsty.’
‘You’re a star. What would I do without you?’ She hugged her sister.
‘I think you’d probably manage,’ said Hannah, extricating herself. ‘There’s enough food for everyone to take home and live off for the whole weekend.’
Mina gave her a cheerful grin. ‘It’s going to be great.’ She couldn’t wait to see everyone surrounding the table, the places set with her vintage china collected over the years from charity shops, her guests replete with food and alcohol, chatting in the candlelight. She’d been cooking all day and for most of the previous evening but it was going to be worth it. An anniversary celebration. One whole year with Simon. Quite a record for her, and she had to admit she was enjoying the calm and stability he brought into her life. He was the yin to her yang, or whatever the saying was. Actually it was probably the other way round, not that she had a clue about Chinese philosophy. What she did know was that she’d invited eight friends, including Hannah, for dinner tonight. It would be a tight squeeze but everyone was used to that when they came here. In the last year she’d held a Parisienne party (extremely chic), a Danish hygge gathering (very cosy), a gin cocktail speakeasy night (brilliant 1920s costumes, including Simon’s fabulous Trilby that cost a bomb), and a Thai banquet (spicy, fresh, and utterly delicious).
Tonight’s table with its brightly-striped Mexican serape-style tablecloth was laid with jewel-coloured raffia mats, plastic sombrero napkin rings, and a row of candles in rustic metal votives running down the centre. She’d even bought some cactus-shaped plastic ice cubes for the water jug.
‘Your parties are always great, but you don’t half give yourself a lot of work. I’d have just bought a couple of Old El Paso sauces and some salsa and guacamole from M&S.’
‘That’s not proper Mexican food!’ Mina’s eyes widened in mock outrage. ‘I’m doing authentic street food. Come.’ Mina darted into the kitchen beckoning furiously. ‘You’ve got to try this.’ She was already holding the spoon out.
‘What is it?’ asked Hannah, her eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion.
‘Try it…’
Her sister took a tentative mouthful. ‘Oh wow.’ She blinked rapidly. ‘That’s got a kick. But,’ Hannah went back for a second lick, ‘yum.’
‘Chocolate sauce made with chilli from Ecuador. It’s to have with the churros for dessert. Isn’t it just divine?’ Mina dipped her finger and took a quick taste, her eyes closing in sheer bliss. It was lovely. It had taken her a while to track this particular artisan-made brand down, and it was worth every last penny of the extortionate price she’d paid. Although she’d been equally tempted by the caramel salted dark chocolate from Madagascar and the rum flavour from Trinidad and Tobago. There were just so many gorgeous chocolates to choose from these days.
‘Different. I wish I could cook like you.’
Mina laughed.
‘Then you wouldn’t have your big fancy job and a gorgeous apartment to live in,’ said Mina, looking around at her small cramped kitchen – not that she envied her sister at all, but one day she would like a decent-sized kitchen with an open-plan diner where she could entertain without having to leave her guests every five minutes. She’d even planned the layout in her head.
When she and Simon moved in together they could combine forces and buy a better place, perhaps even a house. Despite their different personalities, both of them loved food and entertaining – it was one of the reasons they worked so well as a couple. ‘What do you want me to do?’ asked Hannah, looking around.
‘If you could grate cheese for me, for the nachos, and make sure it’s the cheddar and not my special Alpine cheese.’
‘What’s that for? Or shouldn’t I ask? Is it a Mexican speciality that no one knows about?’
Mina laughed. ‘No, we’ve been talking about developing a fondue recipe at work, so I thought I’d get some sneaky practice in at home. It really needs the right cheese. Amelie has been emailing me traditional Swiss recipes.’
‘Ah, that’s nice. How is she?’
Amelie was Mina’s godmother, who had been at school with their mother, in a boarding school in France. Poor Hannah had missed out as their parents had not got around to christening her, although Amelie had, in her typically generous fashion, adopted her as an honorary goddaughter and always sent her birthday and Christmas presents.
‘Good. You know she moved out of Basel and bought that little ski lodge place, which does sound gorgeous. She keeps inviting me to go and visit, and I feel a bit bad that I haven’t – but it’s not like hopping on a plane to the city. Where she is now is in the middle of nowhere. It’s a three-hour train journey from Zurich or Geneva.’
‘Not exactly a quick weekend break, then. Now what do you want me to do?’
‘When you’ve grated the cheese, you could help me do the margarita glasses.’
‘What are you doing with them?’
‘I’m going to dip the rims in lime juice and then in salt, to get a proper crust around the edges.’ She waved her hand towards the shaped cocktail glasses that she’d been thrilled to find in TK Maxx. ‘And look: I’m going to sprinkle a little edible golden glitter in the salt to give them a bit of pizazz.’ She was rather pleased with this idea, and even more pleased by Hannah’s enthusiastic reaction.
‘What a brilliant idea. And that’s why you’re the food technologist.’
‘Huh, I don’t think creating a new twist on pasta sauce is that exciting.’ Mina tried not to sound too ungrateful. Working in the test kitchens of a major supermarket brand was a good job, a great job… it just didn’t inspire her as much as it used to these days. Catering to the common denominator, like putting a more flavoursome béchamel sauce on top of a lasagne, could be a bit dull when she was wild to try new flavours.
‘Now, if you’re going to be my kitchen assistant, I need you to get cracking.’
Mina hummed away as she sliced and diced onions, seasoned chicken, and chopped a small mountain of chilies, like a mini whirling dervish. This was going to be a special evening and the food just one small part of it. She wanted to show Simon just how much he meant to her. He’d become an integral part of her community of friends over the last year, and she wanted to share her happiness with them as well. Good friends were everything. She glanced over at the small tissue-paper-decorated pinãta striped in pink and blue. Earlier, she’d stuffed the small pouch inside it and now she felt a little thrill of anticipation at what Simon would say when it was released.
By the time six o’clock arrived, and they’d both treated themselves to a taster of the freshly mixed margarita, virtually everything was done.
‘Just time to get our glad rags on.’ Mina surveyed the kitchen and the neat rows of everything lined up ready. She called it Blue-Peter-style cooking, with the emphasis on ‘here’s some I prepared earlier’, so that when her guests arrived she spent as little time as possible in the kitchen – which was a challenge when you were serving really fresh, zesty street food. Somehow she couldn’t help herself, and she did a little more prep as she waited for Hannah to finish in the bathroom before she finally dashed in at twenty-to-seven. Taking the quickest of quick showers, she dragged a comb through her blonde bob, swiped a quick slick of pink lipstick over her lips, and brushed on a lightning layer of black mascara to darken her ridiculously long, pale lashes, which could have rivalled a llama. Done. She blew a kiss at her reflection in the mirror, fluttered her llama lashes, and darted back into her bedroom to pull on her new, bright fuschia-pink dress and nipped into the kitchen to put on an apron. She’d been caught out by food splatters before and this dress deserved to shine.
When the doorbell rang at seven, she was in full hostess mode. As the room filled, she was in her element, dishing out bottles of Corona stuffed with the obligatory slice of lime, or glasses of the sort of margaritas that provided a mule-like kick.
‘Blimey, Mina,’ said George, one of her old university friends. ‘That’s going to put hairs on my chest. And I’m not sure about the glitter, I’ll be twinkling at work on Monday. But killer of an idea.’
‘Don’t be a boring old stick,’ said his partner, who was also inconveniently called George, and in the six months they’d been together had become G. ‘I love the glitter and that is a seriously good cocktail.’ He blinked his eyes rapidly as the alcohol hit his throat. ‘Fire water.’
‘Oh, is it too strong?’ Mina paused in the act of handing over a glass to her best friend Belinda, who’d just arrived, flashing a smile at Simon just behind her.
‘It’ll be fine,’ said Belinda, a kissing her on both cheeks and taking the glass for a sensible sip. ‘Yum. And the glitter is…’ She studied her glass. ‘Is it OK to eat, or rather, drink?’
‘Yes. It’s edible. As if I’d use something that wasn’t.’ Mina stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Belinda had been her friend since school days and her sensible nature had often put a break on Mina’s more reckless ideas in the past, but she was a grown-up now for goodness’ sake. Didn’t tonight prove this?
‘Of course not,’ said Belinda dryly, but Mina was already swinging towards Simon.
‘Hi, darling.’ She wished her hands weren’t full and she could give him a proper hug. ‘You’ve made good time.’
‘Yes, I finished work… a bit earlier. I gave Belinda a lift.’
‘That was kind.’ Her eyes sparkled at him. Belinda lived the other side of town and didn’t drive. He was such a kind man. Safe and steady too. Just what she needed. ‘Want a margarita? Or would you prefer a beer?’
‘Just water. I’m driving later.’
‘Oh, babe, aren’t you going to stay?’ She kissed him again on the cheek, with a mischievous grin, hoping to remind him of what he might miss. ‘These margaritas are to die for.’
‘I bet they are, but not with football practice in the morning. You don’t want me disturbing you after a heavy night.’ He surveyed the table. ‘Looks like you’ve gone the usual mile. This looks amazing. You’re so talented in the kitchen.’
She raised her eyebrows in mock reproof as if to remind him that wasn’t the only place.
‘Well, it is a special night,’ she murmured.
His brows drew together and she shook her head. ‘Simon. What are you like? You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?’ she accused him jokingly. ‘Honestly. Hopeless. Men.’ She included Belinda in her teasing exasperation. ‘It’s our anniversary.’
Simon looked mildly horrified, but then he would. He didn’t like getting things wrong. That driving perfectionism was one of the things she’d fallen for. She might live her life at ninety miles an hour all the time, trying to cram as much in as she could, but she still liked everything to be just so. Hence the themed evening, which had come together perfectly. Hannah was handing around plates of nachos, made with good stringy cheese and home-made spicy salsa, and from the satisfied munching they were going down well.
Leaving the room buzzing with conversation she went back into the kitchen and began to ferry out the food. Once the plates were all arranged on the table, in a haphazard jigsaw to make everything fit, she invited everyone to come and shoehorn themselves into the seats around the fully extended table, which spanned the whole width of the room.
‘This looks amazing, Mina,’ cried Patsy, a friend she’d made on a fish-filleting course a couple of months back, who worked in a local delicatessen. ‘I have to get the recipes from you.’
‘Don’t you guys ever get fed up with being around food all the time?’ asked Patsy’s boyfriend, James, who was a firefighter. ‘Not that I’m complaining.’ He slung an arm around Patsy, who nudged him in the ribs with a laugh.
As she unloaded the plates, making sure everyone had something within reach, Mina basked in the exclamations of delight and interest while she explained what everything was, and invited them to tuck in. The fairy lights, the glow of the candles, and the main lights dimmed along with the low-level chatter created a wonderful, and to Mina, a deeply satisfying atmosphere in the room.
The drink flowed, the conversation rose and fell, punctuated by shouts of laughter, and Mina relaxed into her chair next to Simon, soothed by the happy, smiling faces around her. This was what life was about. Friends, lovers, and good company.
Once everyone had demolished the churros and the tablecloth was spattered with tiny drops of chocolate, she brought out the piñata and the wooden stick that had been provided with it. Everyone roared with laughter at its dainty size.
‘I know, I know, but its only for one person. One very special person.’ She looked at Simon and handed him the stick. ‘Today is our first anniversary.’
‘And they said it wouldn’t last,’ quipped George from the other side of the table. She laughed back at him.
‘Good job I didn’t listen to you,’ she said. When she’d first started seeing Simon, in secret because they were work colleagues, George had been the only person she’d confided in. He’d tried to talk her out of it, saying that it wasn’t a good idea to mix business with pleasure, especially with her track record. Her relationships tended to implode at around the three-month mark, which was how she knew that Simon was the right man for her. He was calm, steady, and just what she needed, unlike her previous boyfriends, who tended to be here today, gone tomorrow. Admittedly, while they’d been a lot of fun, commitment, financial stability, or the ability to be faithful had been in short supply. Simon offered all of those things, although he could be a little stodgy and stuck in his ways sometimes. Her spontaneity and get-up-and-go was a good balance for him. They complemented each other perfectly.
With the help of G and James, she tied the piñata to the curtain pole.
‘Just don’t break the window,’ she said, her heart starting to thump with excitement.
To a chorus of ‘give it some welly,’ and ‘go on,’ Simon took a few tentative swipes at the tissue and papier-mâché donkey. A couple of people held up their phones to film the scene as Simon rather ineptly swiped at the piñata. At one point Mina despaired of him ever breaking open the darned thing and itched to take over his half-hearted attempt. Then with one final crack, it was torn clean in two and a giftwrapped box dropped to the floor.
With a triumphant yell, Simon snatched it up, and Mina, her pulse now roaring like an express train around her body, steered him back to the table and sat on his lap.
‘I didn’t know I was getting presents,’ he said, fighting his way through the paper. Of course, Mina hadn’t made it too easy for him, because inside the box was another box, and then another box. At last he came to the final one and she held her breath as he opened it to find a blue suedette pouch.
He wrinkled his eyebrows and gave her a puzzled look, a broad smile on his face. She smiled tremulously back at him, realising her hands were shaking a little. Everyone around the table craned forward with interest.
Simon opened the pouch and pulled out the gold wedding band, holding it up between thumb and finger. With a dazzling smile, she looked up into his face.
‘Will you marry me? It is a leap year after all.’
Around the table there were a few gasps and a couple of ‘ahs’.
She felt Simon’s body stiffen and as she watched his face, she saw his eyes slide across the table, widening as they connected with someone else’s shocked gaze. Her own gaze followed, and in a single second her world crumbled. Belinda?
In the next second, Simon stood up with horrified speed, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her, and she slipped off his lap onto the floor.
He dropped the ring on the table as if it were hot lava and stared horrorstruck at her.
‘Are you crazy?’ he asked in a hoarse whisper. ‘What are you doing?’
Mortified, Mina’s throat closed up and her skin crawled as she realised everyone was watching, with avid fascination, as the car crash unfolded. What had she been thinking? It had seemed such a brilliant idea at the time. Only last month they’d been talking about moving in together and about the future. They’d even talked about how many children they’d have one day. How had she got this so wrong? She’d been so sure of him. They’d made plans. Admittedly, Simon had been distracted for the last month, but she’d assumed it was the long hours he was working and the pressure he was under in his department, which had seen several redundancies. Now it was painfully obvious that something else – or rather, someone else – had been on his mind.
‘But…’ She looked from Simon to Belinda, whose face was now stained with a fierce red blush and contorted by an odd, constipated sort of expression. Simon’s face mirrored Belinda’s. They looked remarkably similar: two compatriots, two people in sync – a couple.
As the trainwreck finally slowed to a comprehensive halt, she remembered all her earlier hopes. This was one night she wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.
Chapter Two
Mina hurried out of the front door and down the steps clutching her laptop bag, huddling into her scarf, trying to hide from the biting January wind. Despite the icy conditions predicted by the weather forecast, she wore high, kick-ass, black patent leather boots under slim-fitting black trousers with a matching jacket over a scarlet silk blouse. If there was ever a down-but-not-defeated outfit then this was it. This morning she had to face all her work colleagues after Saturday night’s disastrous proposal, including Simon himself.
While the rest of the guests had hastily beaten a path to her door, she and Simon had retreated to her bedroom for a hideous, no-coming-back-from, stand-up row.
‘What did you think you were doing?’ hissed Simon, shaking his head in rare fury.
‘I thought I was proposing to someone who said, less than a month ago, that he loved me. Someone who had agreed to find an estate agent to have our flats valued, and had selected the name Victor for our first male child – which, I’d just like to say now, I thought was an awful name, and I fully intended talking you out of it – and I seem to recall you even suggested getting married in St Mary’s near your mum’s. So forgive for me being a little confused. I thought I was doing what we’d already agreed we would do?’
‘Typical. So it’s my fault, is it? I might have known. Not that you had to jump the gun or anything, like you always do. You’re in such a hurry all the time.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t have done if I’d realised you were shagging – I’m assuming you are, by the colour of her face – one of my oldest friends.’ Belinda had been excommunicated – she no longer deserved the title ‘best’ friend.
At that point Simon’s mouth firmed to a mutinous line rather reminiscent of a toothless turtle.
‘How long has that been going on?’ Mina thrust her chin up into his face.
‘She’s much calmer. You want to do everything at breakneck speed. You’re too much. Even your ridiculous wedding proposal is so true to character. Belinda’s much… more balanced. I feel on an even keel with her.’
‘So, you spineless git, you’re saying this is my fault, because of my personality?’ Her eyes bored into him with fury.
‘We’re not right for each other.’ Simon’s words were stiff as he refused to look at her.
‘Funny it took you until tonight to say anything. You never questioned things before. You sucked it all up… must have been terrible for you. Having to go on with all those awful things I organised for us – a weekend in Cornwall, dinner at Le Manoir, ski lessons at the indoor ski slope. My memory is terrible but I could have sworn that after I booked the indoor sky diving, you said that being with me was always so much fun.’