Time After Time Read online

  HANNAH MCKINNON

  Time After Time

  A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  Published by Maze

  An imprint of HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd

  The News Building

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2016

  Copyright © Hannah McKinnon 2016

  Hannah McKinnon asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue copy 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.

  Ebook Edition © June 2016 ISBN: 9780008191849

  Version 2016-04-11

  To Robert, Leo, Matt & Lex – with love, always

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: A Blast From The Past

  Chapter 2: Going Nowhere

  Chapter 3: Let’s Play Pretend

  Chapter 4: Any Second Now

  Chapter 5: 1988 It Was Genius

  Chapter 6: A Different Life

  Chapter 7: 1988 Here Goes Nothing

  Chapter 8: Smoke And Mirrors

  Chapter 9: 1990 Got to Keep Control

  Chapter 10: Long Way Home

  Chapter 11: 1990 My Girl

  Chapter 12: Some Things Never Change

  Chapter 13: 1993 a New Chapter

  Chapter 14: Anywhere But … Where?

  Chapter 15: 1993 New York, New York

  Chapter 16: Mind Games

  Chapter 17: 1993 Smooth Operator

  Chapter 18: Living The Dream

  Chapter 19: 1993 Sweet Little Lies

  Chapter 20: How The Other Half Live

  Chapter 21: 1995 Moving on Up

  Chapter 22: Nothing But The Truth

  Chapter 23: 1995 All That Glitters

  Chapter 24: A Perfect Lie

  Chapter 25: 1996 Definitely Not, Baby

  Chapter 26: Freefalling

  Chapter 27: 1996 Everything I Do

  Chapter 28: I Wonder …

  Chapter 29: 1997 Same Old, Same Old

  Chapter 30: Hold Me (Back)

  Chapter 31: 1997 It’s So Easy

  Chapter 32: Round Two

  Chapter 33: 1998 Single White Female

  Chapter 34: The One Who Got Away

  Chapter 35: 1998 Sláinte

  Chapter 36: Happy Families

  Chapter 37: 1998 It’s Their Party …

  Chapter 38: The Wake-Up Call

  Chapter 39: 1998 Fly Away

  Chapter 40: Daddy’s Girl

  Chapter 41: I Want to Go Home

  Chapter 42: 1998 – 2000 Kid in America

  Chapter 43: 2000 Head Over Heels

  Chapter 44: One Way Ticket

  Chapter 45: 2000 Hung Up on You

  Chapter 46: Crisis Central

  Chapter 47: 2000 The Glory Days

  Chapter 48: Mirror, Mirror

  Chapter 49: 2003 The Slippery Slope

  Chapter 50: No Going Back

  Chapter 51: Begin Again

  Chapter 52: Dragon’s Den

  Chapter 53: Finding Chris

  Chapter 54: Finding Ian

  Chapter 55: Finding Matthew

  Chapter 56: Finding Sean

  Chapter 57: Finding Home

  Author q&a

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER 1

  A Blast From The Past

  It was the odd silence that woke her.

  Where are the kids?

  Hayley tried to burrow back into Sleepland. Fat chance. She’d become too much aware of her tongue that was stuck to the roof of her mouth. It felt like she’d been chewing on a ball of fuzzy felt rolled in a slice of Gouda.

  ‘Ugh,’ Hayley groaned, her eyes still tightly shut.

  She remembered getting a taxi back from Ellen’s but her throbbing head didn’t make sense. They hadn’t had that much wine, surely? Hayley briefly wondered if her best friend felt equally queasy. Then her stomach rumbled, a sure indication of how late it might be.

  Breakfast is going to be fun. Serves me right for getting back so late.

  Hayley squinted, barely able to make anything out in the dimly lit room. She looked at her old-fashioned Mickey Mouse alarm clock that ticked loudly. Her parents had bought it for her fifteenth birthday as a joke because nothing short of a sledgehammer ever seemed to wake her. She’d used it ever since.

  Mickey’s glow-in-the dark gloves showed five minutes to nine.

  Where are the kids?

  She couldn’t believe they weren’t up yet. It was total bliss that she’d got an extra hour and a half of much-needed sleep. As she rubbed her head again she heard Rick’s gentle breathing next to her. Her husband had always been a quiet sleeper. She was the snorer – he’d even recorded it once on his phone and played a frighteningly realistic warthog impression back to her with a grin on his face.

  It’s not like him to be in bed this late on a Saturday morning.

  He usually went out for a run and did push-ups at the park while she got the kids up and made breakfast. He reckoned it was the reason he could still eat Fish and Chips and not turn into a lard-arse.

  Hayley thought about Rick’s firm legs and trim waist. She briefly considered slipping her hand down his boxer shorts – they hadn’t had morning sex in months, probably years, even – but that pint of water she’d downed just before she left Ellen’s had turned her bladder into a bouncy castle. She was busting for a pee and wanted to move her legs but they felt like lead-filled sausages. Slowly she started to drift off to sleep again.

  ‘Yougonnagedup? Gedsumbrukfast?’

  God, he sounds rough. I bet he’s coming down with a cold. Oh joy. Man-flu alert.

  ‘In a minute,’ she mumbled, then remembered their row from the night before. At least an eight and a half on the Richter scale of arguments. Maybe even a nine. Bad enough for her to walk out, fleeing to Ellen’s for wine and moral support. It wasn’t the first time she’d speculated if Rick had found someone else. Wondered if he wanted to leave, then wondered if she wanted him to.

  She sighed and decided she should take a few steps towards reconciliation. Besides, she had a brief to finish. Washing to do. Costumes to pick up. Parents to see. And with all of that on her list, it was hardly a practical day to put a bullet in her marriage.

  Hayley crawled out of bed, eyes barely open, headed for the door and walked straight into a chest of drawers.

  ‘Ouch.’ She rubbed her leg.

  ‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’ Rick’s voice really was rough.

  Hayley opened her eyes properly to take in her surroundings.

  Hang on a second.

  The bedroom seemed smaller than usual. The window was in the wrong place, surely, and she felt carpet under her feet,
not hardwood floor. Instead of the door being straight ahead she could make it out to her left. Pictures hung above the chest of drawers. She squinted at them, but couldn’t see them properly in the dark room.

  It all had a certain familiarity about it that she couldn’t quite place.

  God, we must have got completely trolleyed. But why can’t I remember?

  Hayley grabbed hold of the chest of drawers to steady herself and knocked over a vase.

  ‘I’m trying to sleep, keep it down.’

  An alarm bell went off in Hayley’s throbbing head. She spun round faster than she intended, lost her balance and landed on the floor on her bum.

  ‘Ow. Fuck it,’ she said loudly.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Hayley popped her head up, quickly brushed her brown hair away from her face, and gasped. The person she’d thought was Rick now sat up in bed, staring down at her. She shook her head and quickly rubbed her eyes. Despite the dim light there was no mistaking him.

  No … No way … It can’t be.

  ‘What are you playing at?’ he said. ‘I didn’t get to sleep until four.’

  With wide blue eyes and her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ of surprise, Hayley stared at the man for so long, she could practically feel the seasons change.

  ‘Chris?’

  Hayley blinked three times thinking that she’d never, ever, cheat on Rick. Never.

  And she hadn’t seen Chris – her first boyfriend, her very first love – in over twenty years.

  So when … no, how had she ended up in bed with him?

  CHAPTER 2

  Going Nowhere

  The day before Hayley woke up in bed with her ex-boyfriend had been a complete and utter disaster. In fact, things had been sliding downhill before she’d even woken up. Her alarm clock didn’t go off, so she was already thirty minutes behind her impossibly tight schedule when she opened her eyes. While she crept around the house in the dark trying not to wake Rick and the kids, she’d knocked over Pickles’ bowl and squished the cold, jelly-like, not-so-delightful tuna cat treats right up between her toes. And just now at the office, the new intern, Jim, had bumped into her and spilled half a cup of lukewarm tea straight down her white shirt.

  ‘I-I’m so sorry, Hayley.’ Jim’s eyes almost popped out of his skull.

  Hayley watched a blush creep over his chiselled cheekbones. ‘It’s fine,’ she said.

  And you’re lucky you’re so flipping cute.

  Waving a hand she added, ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  She pulled on her shirt, trying to stop the fabric from sticking to her body. Jim apologised again, then made a swift exit, muttering something about papers he needed to file.

  Hayley was about to make a dash for the loo to salvage her top when Charles stepped out of his office.

  ‘Never mind, Hayley,’ he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, and with a smile that looked about as real as market-stall Rolex. ‘Good job that shirt’s polyester.’

  ‘It’s silk, you pathetic prat,’ she said under her breath.

  ‘What was that, Hayley?’ Charles gave her a cool stare.

  She held his gaze. ‘Not hot, thank goodness for that.’ She made sure her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Instead she balled her fists, clenched her teeth and imagined tackling the bastard to the floor, then grinding his balls into the carpet with her high-heels. One at a time. Slowly. Ignoring his falsetto pleas for mercy. She wasn’t a violent person but for Charles Simpson she’d gladly make an exception. He’d always been a pain but he’d become the biggest dickhead in London since his father Ronald had died the previous year.

  Hayley sighed. It wasn’t even nine-thirty, but at least it was Friday.

  I should’ve stayed in bed. But I don’t need a duvet day. I need a flaming duvet decade.

  ‘My office, Hayley,’ Charles said sharply. ‘There have been developments.’

  ‘Developments?’ Her chest tightened. ‘What developments?’ She followed Charles to his office and closed the door behind them.

  He sat down at his desk, crossed his legs and raised his chin. ‘I spoke with Thorsten Berger yesterday evening.’ Tap, tap, tap went his fingers on his mahogany desk. Tap, tap, tap. He sniffed. ‘They’ve decided to go with another law firm.’

  Hayley’s eyes widened. ‘What? But the offer I put together it –’

  ‘Wasn’t good enough.’

  ‘I’ll call him, I –’

  Charles held up a hand. ‘Don’t. He made himself crystal clear. I’ll talk to him again at some point. Maybe I can salvage some future business.’

  ‘If I speak to him, then maybe –’

  ‘Leave it, Hayley. You’re not to contact him. That’s an order.’ His icy stare met her eyes. ‘What’s that, the fourth potential client you’ve lost?’ He picked up the phone and gave her a dismissive wave. Head down, she turned and walked out.

  ‘I already heard the news,’ Tony said in a low voice as he caught up to her and they walked back to her office. ‘Got lectured about how we should have done more.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Told him we’d do better next time, that there are other clients in the pipe.’

  ‘You should have heard how he spoke to me. The look he gave me.’ She exhaled deeply. ‘We worked on that Berger offer for weeks.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Sodding Charles. You know he dumped it on me along with four other cases he was supposed to look after?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I missed Millie’s ballet recital and Danny’s first day in his new class. All for nothing. Nothing. And don’t say I know again.’ She flashed Tony a look.

  He nodded. ‘I won’t. But don’t let him get to you.’

  ‘How? And how are you so calm? He pushes all of my buttons and then some. He’s such a backstabbing, sanctimonious shit.’

  Tony chuckled, holding her office door open for her. ‘Amen to that.’

  ‘And he absolutely hates me’ She pulled out her chair and flopped. ‘Always has.’

  ‘You can blame Ronald for that. May the good man rest in peace.’ Tony smiled. ‘No one likes a teachers pet.’

  ‘You like me.’ She crossed her arms and frowned at him.

  ‘I do now, but it took years.’ Tony grinned and put his hands in his pockets. ‘Don’t ever ask Angela what I said about you the first day we met.’

  ‘What do you mean? What did you say?’

  ‘That a right stuck up wannabe solicitor had joined the firm and I never wanted to work with her.’

  ‘Hey!’ She threw a handful of paperclips at him. ‘Your wife adores me.’

  He laughed. ‘She does. I won’t deny it. Look, Charles always hated that you got along with Ronald better than he did. So ignore him.’ He shrugged. ‘Works for me.’

  She smiled. ‘Thanks Tony, I’ll try.’

  But ignoring their boss had become impossible, so after Tony left Hayley sat at her immaculate desk and fantasised about pushing Charles in front of a dozen runaway photocopiers, squashing him as flat as her enthusiasm. That wasn’t the only thing she daydreamed about these days. Not by a long shot. What if …? It was a game she caught herself playing more often than she’d ever admit. She shook her head.

  Stop fantasising and take action, Hayley!

  She pulled out her mobile phone and punched in Isamu Lewis’ number.

  ‘Isamu Lewis.’

  Hayley smiled. The pint-sized head-hunter from Ashford DeVille had the voice of an angel and the killer instinct of a Siberian Tiger. If there was a law job up for grabs in London, Isamu knew about it. She’d sent along a number opportunities over the past few months, none that Hayley had seriously wanted to consider. Not until now. But the excuse of better the devil you know was wearing as thin as Miley Cyrus’ underwear. Particularly as the devil was Charles bloody Simpson.

  ‘Isamu, hi,’ Hayley said, getting up to close the door to her office.

  ‘Hayley, how are you?’


  ‘I’ve been getting more excited about the job with Williamson, and I think I –’

  ‘Yeah, look –’

  ‘Have you heard back from them yet? I know I said the commute’s longer but I’ll just have to cope. I’ll dance on the bloody desks at lunchtime for all I care. Just tell me there’s a –’

  ‘Hayley,’ Isamu said sweetly. ‘Will you shut up for a second?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It fell through.’

  ‘What?’ Hayley’s voice went up a few notches.

  Isamu sighed. ‘Just found out the buggers filled the position internally. I was about to call you.’

  Hayley drew a sharp breath. ‘Shit! But they … they said …’

  Don’t whine. Don’t you dare.

  She cleared her throat, let out a small laugh. ‘So, you’re saying I have to continue dancing on the desks here?’

  ‘Sorry, hon,’ Isamu said. ‘I’ve tried everything but we have to let this one go.’

  Hayley swallowed. ‘Got anything else up your sleeve?’

  ‘Klingel’s are looking.’

  ‘Forget it,’ Hayley said quickly. ‘They overcharge and under deliver. I’d rather be broke than –’

  ‘I was joking.’

  Hayley puffed out her cheeks. ‘Oh. Phew. Seriously then, what else do you have?’

  ‘Nothing at the moment,’ Isamu said. ‘But I’ll call you when I do. Let me see what I can find next month, but then everything will slow down over Christmas, probably until at least mid-January. Okay?’