It's Now Or Never

‘For Jen Faraday - Not to be opened, in any circumstances, until April 2016’

When smooth-talking Alex Fellows tells Jen Faraday he can predict her future – and leaves a note with the bartender for her to collect in one year’s time – she thinks it’s just a line. After all, how can a man she’s known for only one night see what her future holds? Or maybe it’s not too hard. Recently her life has been a series of things she hasn’t done. She didn’t go to college – family trouble. She didn’t get married – dumped. And she hasn’t yet handed in her notice at work – too scared! If she had to predict her own future, would it be ‘More of the same’?

Or maybe not. After all, she’s just had a passionate one-night stand with a man who is rich and ridiculously good-looking and totally not her type. That was unexpected. And she is going to resign from her job… Things are already changing. Whatever that prediction says – and how Jen wishes she knew – perhaps this year is the year she takes control of her destiny!

Also by Jill Steeples

Desperately Seeking Heaven

Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off

Hopelessly Devoted to You

Praise for JILL STEEPLES

‘Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off by Jill Steeples is a well written and easy to like book. If you are looking for a chick lit with a twist then give this one a read.’ Harlequin Junkie

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‘So gripping, vivid, enjoyable and fascinating!!!’ Sky’s Book Corner on Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off

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‘It was a thoroughly enjoyable read that kept you wanting more.’ A Book and Tea on Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off

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‘Jill is a great writer, she knows how to tell a story. I can’t wait to read more of Jill Steeples.’ Dreaming with Open Eyes

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‘A cute and easy read’ This Chick Reads on Desperately Seeking Heaven

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It’s Now or Never

Jill Steeples

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015

Copyright © Jill Steeples 2015

Jill Steeples asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for 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, downloaded, 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.

E-book Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9781474035545

Version date: 2018-07-23

JILL STEEPLES lives in a small market town in Bedfordshire with her husband and two children.

From an early age she fell in love with the fabulously funny romances of Jilly Cooper, and vowed, one day, she would have a go at writing one of her own.

Jill loves writing short stories, particularly those with a twist in the tail, and her work has appeared in popular women’s magazines around the world and in a number of charity anthologies.

It’s Now or Never is her fourth novel.

To all my lovely readers and friends who have read and enjoyed my books, a very big thank you! Your support is appreciated much more than you can ever know.

A special thank you to my brilliant editor, Victoria Oundjian, for her infinite patience and guidance, and to the rest of the fabulous HQ Digital team for all their hard work and dedication.

Finally, and always, a big thank you to my lovely family for their continued understanding, love and support in the face of extreme hardship - no socks, no food and no attention - love you all! xx

For my mum

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Praise

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Acknowledgement

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Endpages

About the Publisher

Prologue

I suppose I was curious about that damned letter. Who wouldn’t be? It was addressed to me, after all, and it was meant to hold all the secrets to my dazzling future. In that situation I’d defy anyone not to want to know what was held within that envelope. Part of me saw it as an elaborate joke and I wondered if that was what the funny gorgeous stranger had intended, but there was also a small part of me that couldn’t help thinking that he might know something I didn’t. Wouldn’t that be cool? To think my whole life was known to someone else but not to me?

The thing was, I’d managed to catch a few tantalising snippets which had only stirred my interest more, but as I’d craned my head to read further, the ‘all-knowing one’ had pulled an arm around the sheet of paper as he wrote, blocking my view to what he was furiously scribbling down.

You think that’s mad?

pretty momentous

mind-blowing to say the least.

secrets … hidden

Forever.

… not only me involved

stalkerish

at my side

tomorrow …

Stalkerish? What the hell! And tomorrow? Well today was tomorrow, if you get my drift, and that letter had my name written all over it – so where was the problem?

In the late morning chill of an April morning, the wine bar looked far less salubrious than it had the previous evening. There was an air of neglect and disappointment about the place as though it was carefully nurturing its own hangover, a bit like me, but I wasn’t worried about that. There was only one thing on my mind and that was getting my hands on that letter.

Through the tinted windows, my hands held up to the glass, I saw a young woman in black trousers, black top and white apron behind the bar, wiping down tops and polishing glasses. I took the opportunity, pushing through the door with my shoulder.

‘Sorry, we’re not actually open yet.’ The woman turned, glancing at her watch. ‘If you could come back in half an hour we should be ready for you.’

She probably thought I had a drink problem, it was only ten-thirty in the morning.

‘Oh no, I don’t want a drink. It’s just that I was in here last night and I left something behind.’

‘Ah okay. What was it? I’ll take a look for you.’

‘It was an envelope with my name on it. Jen Faraday. The guy I was with left it behind the bar for me.’

Her eyebrows flickered at me doubtfully before she wandered off, straight to the till, where she retrieved the envelope from the small gap down the side and waved it in the air.

‘This is it, isn’t it,’ she said, still holding it aloft.

‘Yes, thank you.’

I held out my hand to take it off her, but she snatched it away, a triumphant smile on her face.

‘I’m really sorry, but I can’t give it to you. It says quite clearly on here, “not to be opened until April 2016”. That’s a year away. Sorry,’ she said, far too delightedly for her own good.

‘Yes, but it is actually my envelope, for me,’ I said, getting irritated now by her unwavering presence between me and the letter. ‘Could I just have it please?’

‘No.’

‘Right.’ I leant over and snatched it out of her hands – quick as a ninja warrior, she snatched it right back again. For a moment there I thought about tackling her, grappling her to the floor, and reclaiming what was rightfully mine, but I was worried about being arrested and ending up in a prison cell for common assault. Besides, weighing up the situation, she seemed so much more agile and fitter than me and I had a suspicion I would be the one to come off worse in any wrestling competition.

‘Right,’ I said again, with authority this time. ‘Just to let you know, I will be speaking to your manager about this.’

‘I am the manager.’

‘Right. Well that’s fine. Absolutely fine.’

I turned on my tail and marched out that wine bar, determined never to set foot in there again. Well not for another year at least. That’s if I hadn’t forgotten all about that wretched letter by then.

Chapter One

‘You’re what?’

‘I know! It’s all a bit mad. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind actually. Everything’s happened so quickly, but I wanted you to be the first to know.’

Woah! Hang on a minute here. This couldn’t be so. Some things in life are taken as a given and right at the top of the list of given things was, numero uno:

I, Jen Faraday, would be the first to marry out of me and my best friend Angie, because I am the marrying type. And Angie is not. And I’d been in a nine-year relationship with my long-term boyfriend, who was the reliable steady type, and with whom I’d visited bridal fairs and drawn up invitation lists and decided on a colour scheme. Coral and mint, in case you’re interested. Angie wasn’t even in a relationship because she’d ditched her on-off totally unreliable scumbag of a boyfriend because of his wayward tendencies.

Admittedly, there had been a slight hitch to my plans when my reliable steady boyfriend had shown a bit of uncharacteristic get-up-and-go and had… got up and gone, deciding that he didn’t want to get married after all. Well not to me at least. He convinced me it was a mutual decision, but on reflection I think it was more mutual on his part than on my own. Within three months he’d met someone new, married her and now they were expecting their first baby together. Who doesn’t love a happy ending?

‘It’s Tom actually. We’re back together.’ Angie did have the good grace to look sheepish as she imparted this bit of earth-shattering news. ‘We’re going to make a go of it.’

‘Tom? Scumbag, grotbag Tom? But you said…’

‘I know what I said, but he’s changed, honestly he has. And please don’t call him that, Jen. Not any more. The break up was the best thing that could ever have happened to us. It’s made us realise how we feel about each other. We want to spend the rest of our lives together.’

‘Blimey.’

A tiny part of me died inside. No, scrub that. A huge part of me died. Angie was my partner in crime, my soul sister on the singles dating scene. How would I ever cope in those murky waters without her?

‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ I protested. ‘I’d hate to think you were making a mistake. You were doing so well, Angie, getting over Tom. Why go back? Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? That I need to look forward and not dwell on the past?’

‘That’s the whole point, Jen. I’m not going backwards. I’m moving forwards with Tom. A new promise, a new life together. Besides, this is different. We’re very much in love.’

Eugh! I resisted the urge to throw up over the carpet. The only thing stopping me was the fact that it was my carpet and I’d be the one to have to clean up the mess.

Love? Ha! I thought I knew what love was until Paul had pulled the rug from beneath my feet. And if I could get it quite so wrong after nine years, how would I ever be able to know how to get it right again? Against all the odds Angie had managed it and now, without so much as a backwards glance, she was leaving me behind, floundering all alone in a lonely single wilderness. Every part of my life had hit the buffers. I’d come to a shuddering halt with a neon ‘No Way Out’ sign flashing in front of me, while everyone around me was moving forward with their lives, going off in exciting new directions.

Panic constricted my throat.

‘Wait for me,’ I wanted to shout. The life train was about to leave the station and I hadn’t even bought my ticket yet.

I consumed a sigh. To be honest, it wasn’t only Angie’s unexpected imminent departure over to the other side that was depressing me. For months now I’d been fighting the feeling that I’d stepped into a gooey patch of quagmire on the way to my full and exciting life and somehow I’d got stuck, knee-high in a puddle that I had little hope of pulling my feet out of.

My love life was non-existent, I’d been stuck in the same job for years and I’d suddenly realised that all those things I was going to do when I was a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old straight out of school just hadn’t happened. I hadn’t gone to university, I hadn’t travelled the world, I hadn’t had a mad and passionate affair with a gorgeous older man and I hadn’t even been sky-diving or skinny-dipping in an azure-blue sea. The list of things I hadn’t done yet was endless.

It didn’t help that Gramps was acting like a lovestruck teenager. When your elderly granddad was seeing more action than you were then something was definitely wrong. Honestly, it was ridiculous. Only the other day I’d popped round to see him and found him up in the spare bedroom, surrounded by cardboard boxes and black bags.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I only came up here to find my best shirt. The one with the double cuffs. I’m off to a tea dance this afternoon with the lovely Marcia.’ He adopted a dancing hold and gave a twirl around the spare bedroom, a bloom to his cheeks. ‘But then I got distracted by all this mess. I think this room is well overdue a clear out, don’t you? Maybe I’ll give it a fresh lick of paint too.’

I grunted my reply. Marcia was bossy and brash, wore over-bright orange lipstick and heels I suspected were far too high for a woman of her age. I didn’t know what Gramps saw in her.

I cast a gaze over the room with its daisy sprig wallpaper and soft yellow curtains. I’d slept in this room hundreds of times over the years, as a child and then as a teenager, and even now occasionally at Christmas and Easter – the room’s cosy familiarity was always fondly reassuring. Why mess with things now?

‘Aren’t those Nan’s old knitting magazines?’ I said, noticing the pile by the doorway.

‘Yes, they’re no good here just gathering dust, are they? And unless you have any plans to take up knitting in the near future I can’t see any reason to keep them.’

‘Oh…’ I looked at Gramps, his shirt hanging expectantly on the door frame with its promise of tango nights full of love and passion, and I felt a pang of sadness for my nan. What would she have to say? She wouldn’t be happy about those magazines. Or Marcia. To be sure.

‘It’s up to you,’ I said, forcing a smile. ‘Throw them away if you want to.’

‘What I did find though,’ he said, looking at me with a pensive smile on his lips, ‘was this.’ He picked up a book of poetry from the bookcase in the corner and pulled out a piece of paper. ‘It’s a copy of that letter from your mum. You know, the one she left for you in with her personal bits and pieces.’

‘Really? I didn’t realise you had a copy too. Mine’s at home. In a shoebox on the top of the wardrobe.’

I’d read it once on the day of her funeral, over eight years ago now, and then consigned it to its current resting place. Funny, I found it hard to recall what was in that letter now.

‘I think she wanted me to have a copy just in case you lost yours or decided to throw it away. Do you want it?’ he asked, holding the folded up piece of paper towards me. I took it from his hands and opened it up, the vivid reminder of my mum’s distinctive handwriting pulling at my heartstrings.

I plopped down on the single bed and paused for a moment or two, turning the letter over in my hands. I took a deep breath and began to read.

My dearest darling Jennifer

This is undoubtedly the hardest letter I will ever have to write, but I wanted to leave you with something, just a brief note, that hopefully will bring you some comfort in the coming months and years. Hopefully when you come to read it you will hear my voice as if I’m standing in the same room as you because I honestly believe I will never be that far away. Funny really because now I’ve picked up the pen I’m not sure what it is I want to say, only that you mustn’t feel sad or scared because now I’ve come to terms with what is happening, what is my fate, I’m feeling neither of those things.

What I must say is that you are the most amazing, beautiful and special daughter and I feel so lucky and privileged to have had you in my life. You are very much loved by me and, of course, Nan and Gramps, and you can never know how much joy and pleasure you’ve brought and will continue to bring to our family.

I’m sad, of course, that I won’t be around to see you blossom into the amazing young woman you are destined to be. I mean, you already are that woman, but I know there’s so much more to come from you and you have a dazzling future ahead of you.

What possible advice can I have to give you? Only to be brave and to live your life to the full and take all the opportunities you are given. It’s true, life is short, so we need to make the most of every minute we have here. I know I’ve passed my ‘worry’ gene on to you and I apologise for that! Possibly that’s one of my only regrets, spending too much time worrying about things that never happened. I wish I’d been braver, bolder, taken more chances, laughed more, loved more, got drunk more, eaten that extra slice of pizza and had the big wedge of chocolate brownie for pudding instead of being ‘good’ and I so wish I hadn’t worried so much about what other people thought about me. It really doesn’t matter! If you can, lovely Jen, send that pesky ‘worry’ gene packing and grab hold of your life by the scruff of its neck.

You still have the time Jen, to do all those things you want to do. Basically all I would say is get out there and enjoy yourself. Don’t sweat the small stuff, and the big stuff, well, I have a sneaky suspicion that looks after itself anyway.

I have a feeling that in ten years from now you’ll be in a great place. I can only imagine what terrific things the future holds for you: a fulfilling career, a home by the sea or perhaps a city apartment, a gorgeous husband (or not – I couldn’t really recommend marriage, but I know lots of people speak very highly of the institution), six beautiful children (I can definitely recommend having children – I only wish I’d had more so you’d have some siblings to share your future with), a golden labrador (ah, that could be my other regret, never getting the dog). Anyway, who knows? It might be none of those things; you might want to take a vow of silence and commit your life to God. Whatever it is, I don’t care, darling. I just want you to be happy in whatever it is you choose to do. If you can promise me one thing, it would be that!

I love you very much sweetheart, today, tomorrow and always, and you’ll always be here in my heart.

Keep an eye out for your Nan and Gramps, as they will you, I know.

Love Mum xxx

PS. Chuck out those scales! Now, do it now! Don’t waste another moment worrying about how much you weigh. Another half a stone or two isn’t going to kill you. You’re beautiful as you are. Remember that. Chin up, head held high and embrace your inner gorgeousness. Lord knows, you’ve got plenty to call on. Lots of love, darling. Mum xxx

I tipped my head back to look at the ceiling, the memories rushing back. Mum was right. I could hear her voice clearly, as if she’d just made an unscheduled visit from high up above and had wafted down into the spare bedroom. I could see her big wide smile, the way her bright blue eyes lit up her face and could feel her warm breath against my cheek, the warm, caressive tones to her voice echoing around the little room.

What would I say to her if she was here now?

‘Oh hi, Mum! That letter you wrote to me, the one about being brave and bold, and living life to the full. Yep, really good advice, only I haven’t actually done anything about it yet. I was just going to get round to it soon.’

Would she still think I was an amazing young woman or would she feel disappointed that I hadn’t taken my chances? I blinked away a rogue tear that threatened to fall and folded up the letter again in my lap.

‘You all right, love?’

‘Yep, I’m absolutely fine!’ I looked up at Gramps and smiled, my gaze travelling around the little room. I batted away the pang of nostalgia stirring in my stomach. Like me, this room was stuck in a time warp. We were both in desperate need of an overhaul.

A sense of urgency consumed me. I wanted to be that woman Mum was so certain I was destined to be. What the hell was I waiting for?

‘Come on Jen,’ I could hear Mum whispering in my ear, ‘It’s now or never!’

Chapter Two

‘Can I have a minute please, Matt?’

‘Yeah sure, go through to the office. I’ll grab us a coffee.’

In fairness, I had actually tried to hand in my notice to Matt on three separate occasions already this year. My resignation letter had been growing worn and tatty in my pocket for some time now, but each time I tried to do the deed my attempts were thwarted by one thing or another.

So it shouldn’t have been any surprise to me that it was a full twenty minutes later before Matt backed his way through the door, juggling two mugs of coffee in his hands. Matt was a very hands-on boss. If there was a problem then he would be there sorting it out. He much preferred to be outside, more often than not zooming up and down the yard on a fork-lift truck, but he was just as happy to be on the shop floor lending a hand at the tills chatting away cheerily to the customers.