The Year of Starting Over: A feel-good novel about second chances and finding yourself Read online

  The Year of Starting Over

  A feel-good novel about second chances and finding yourself

  Karen King

  Books by Karen King

  Snowy Nights at the Lonely Hearts Hotel

  The Year of Starting Over

  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

  Snowy Nights at the Lonely Hearts Hotel

  Karen’s email sign-up

  Books by Karen King

  A Letter from Karen

  Acknowledgements

  For my amazing mum, Doris Hemming. You’re an inspiration xx

  Chapter One

  February

  Crash!

  Holly groaned as she looked at the illuminated red numbers on the bedside clock: two thirty. Scott was finally home. He’d obviously gone on to a club with his mates and was now drunk. Again. She’d asked him not to be late back as she was on the early shift at Sunshine Lodge tomorrow, but he’d protested that it was Friday night and he’d been working hard all week, adding, ‘I need to chill out, babe. It’s not my fault you have to work tomorrow.’ It was a fair point, which made her feel guilty – as it was meant to do. Scott worked long hours as assistant manager of a games shop and often had to work weekends himself so couldn’t always have a Friday night out.

  But when he had to work weekends, she didn’t come crashing in and wake him up in the early hours of the morning, did she? She swatted down her irritation, reminding herself that was because she didn’t like going clubbing. She preferred to spend her days and evenings off work either making cushions and throws to brighten up their flat or creating designs for the mugs, clocks and phone covers she sold on Dandibug, an online arts and crafts marketplace, hoping that one day she could turn it into a full-time business. Anyway, if she did come in late, she doubted if Scott would notice: he slept like a log and snored like a mechanical saw.

  Holly turned over and tried to go back to sleep. Her friend Susie was always telling her, ‘You’re too much of a pushover, Holly. You should stand up to Scott.’ Susie didn’t understand that Holly hated conflict of any kind. She didn’t want to argue. She wanted to live in a nice, peaceful home like Pops and Nanna had. She missed them so much. Holly’s parents had split up when she was a baby; she’d never known her dad, and her mum was out at work all day, so she spent a lot of time with her grandparents.

  Pops and Nanna had adored Holly, and each other, and their love had shone out like a beacon of happiness. They’d been together since they were fourteen, got married at twenty-one and lived happily ever after. Nanna died two years ago, and Pops had missed her so much that when he too had gone peacefully in his sleep a few weeks ago, the knowledge that he was now with Nanna helped Holly and her mother cope with the grief of losing him. Nanna and Pops had both lived until their early nineties so had a good few innings, as Pops would have said.

  Ever since she was little, Holly had dreamt of being happily married, just like Nanna and Pops, but all the guys she’d dated seemed to want a good time with no long-term commitment. She was hoping Scott was different; she loved him so much and he said he loved her too, but they’d been living together for over a year now and he hadn’t shown any sign of proposing yet.

  Holly groaned as she heard the cooker fan go on and Scott whistling loudly out of tune. He’s having a bloody fry-up! There was no way she could go back to sleep until he’d finished cooking. Knowing Scott, he’d fall asleep on the sofa and forget about the frying pan then the flat would go up in flames and they’d both be burnt alive. She heard about that kind of thing happening all the time, and even though they had a smoke alarm and a fire extinguisher, it didn’t stop Holly worrying. She listened until the fan went off and she heard Scott going into the lounge. Now she could go back to sleep. She closed her eyes then jolted awake again as the sound of screaming filled the flat. It took her a few seconds to realise Scott was watching a horror film.

  Great. Fan-bloody-tastic! She reached out for the other pillow and stuck it over her head. The trouble with this flat was every noise carried. And Scott made a lot of noise. Please don’t let him be disturbing the neighbours, she thought. They’d already had a couple of complaining letters shoved under their door.

  Somehow, Holly managed to drift back off to sleep and was woken by the alarm four hours later to find Scott’s half of the bed unslept in and the TV in the lounge still blaring. Exhausted, she stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. She was going to need a very strong cup of coffee before she went to work today.

  Holly showered, dressed, put on her make-up and walked into the lounge to find Scott still fast asleep on the sofa. She paused to look at him. Even with his mouth open, his top button undone, his clothes askew he looked incredibly sexy. That was the trouble: Scott was so handsome – and he knew it. He only had to gaze at her with those deep blue eyes and smile, and her heart crumbled. She loved him so much.

  But right now she was angry with him too. And she damn well wasn’t going to tiptoe around him. He had all day to sleep while she had to work. She stomped past him and into the kitchen, banging cupboards, doors and utensils about as she made a cup of coffee and bowl of muesli, but Scott didn’t even stir. Holly resisted the urge to pour a glass of water over his head. Instead she just wrote a note – ‘Gone to work. See you tonight.’ – and went out, feeling a bit out of sorts that she hadn’t even got a goodbye kiss off him. If she hadn’t been so angry, she’d have kissed him on the forehead and whispered goodbye. Well, he’d better be sober and guilty enough to cook a slap-up ‘I’m sorry’ meal for her when she came home that evening.

  Chapter Two

  Holly made her way to the car park at the back of the block of flats and pressed the remote button to open the doors of her yellow Mini. Pops had bought the car for her when she finally passed her driving test – it had taken five attempts and a bottle of Rescue Remedy. The boot was already packed with the books and other odds and ends she’d collected yesterday from Pops’s little bungalow. She’d had the day off work so she and her mum had finally plucked up the courage to go and empty the bungalow, ready for it to be sold. There was already a buyer waiting. They’d both been really sad as they’d gone through Pops’s and Nanna’s things – Pops had refused to let any of Nanna’s stuff go when she had died – and they had ended up crying in each other’s arms.

  ‘You’ll probably have your share of the money in two or three months,’ Mum had told Holly as she dried her eyes. ‘We’ll all get just over £30,000. Have you decided what you want to do with it yet?’

  Holly had shaken her head. She was used to being skint and still couldn’t believe that Pops had left her a share of the money from the sale of his bungalow – along with Mum, Uncle Tim and the Royal British Legion. Thirty thousand pounds was an amazing amount of money and she wanted to spend it wisely. ‘Nanna and I want you to use it to make your dreams come true, Holly,’ Pops had written in the letter he’d left her. ‘You’ve looked after me and your Nanna for years. Now it’s time to think of yourself a bit.’ Holly’s eyes had filled with tears when she’d read it. She’d loved spending time with Pops and Nanna; they had always looked after her when she was younger so she thought it was her turn to look after them as they got older. It was her love for them that had urged her to get a job in Sunshine Lodge Care Home when she left art college, so she could earn a living looking after other old folks while continuing with her artwork in her spare time.

  ‘You haven’t told Scott, have you?’ Mum had asked.

  ‘Not yet.’ When Pops’s solicitor had told them about their inheritance, Mum had made Holly promise not to tell Scott about it for at least a couple of weeks. ‘Pops left that money for you, Holly, not for Scott. Take your time and think about what you would like to do with it,’ she’d pleaded.

  Holly had agreed because it was such a massive amount she felt that she needed time to get her head around it, but that didn’t stop her feeling guilty. She didn’t like having secrets from Scott. They were a couple, they were sup
posed to share things. Mum was right though, she needed to think about it and use the money wisely, like Pops would have wanted.

  She yawned. Maybe they could use it to rent a bigger flat, or even put the deposit down on their very own home.

  Or get married. That would be a dream come true.

  She got into the car and set off for the short journey to Sunshine Lodge. She had a treat for the residents today.

  * * *

  ‘I’ve got something you all might like,’ Holly announced as she walked into the lounge, carrying the big cardboard box of Pops’s books. She put the box down on the table by Sid and Bert, two of the residents. ‘Take a look.’

  Sid leant forward and peered into the box. ‘Books,’ he said. He picked up the hardback lying on top and his face lit up. ‘It’s about the aircraft used in the Second World War.’ He flicked the book open. ‘Hey, my father used to fly one of these.’

  ‘Let’s have a butcher’s.’ Bert leant over the side of his wheelchair to look at the book with Sid.

  ‘Look at all these photos.’ Sid flicked excitedly through the book.

  Holly smiled at them. ‘I thought you’d like it. There’s other books about the Second World War too, and the history of Britain, life of Winston Churchill.’ She took a couple of the books out of the box and laid them out on the table. Pops’s dad, Holly’s great-grandfather, had been a pilot in the Second World War and Pops was very proud of him.

  ‘Is there one about the Wrens?’ Joan asked, slowly getting up and making her way over to the table. ‘Women did their bit in the war too, you know. My mum was a Wren.’

  ‘Oh, don’t start her off. Joan was a feminist before it became trendy,’ Sid said with a mock-groan.

  ‘Of course there is!’ Holly held out a book about women in the war.

  Joan took it and sat down on the nearest chair to look through it. ‘This looks good!’

  ‘So does this. My mum used to make this cake.’ Pat was flicking through a wartime cookbook.

  Soon a group of the residents were gathered around the table, poring over the books and reminiscing. As she watched them, tears welled up in Holly’s eyes. Pops had treasured his collection of books and would want them to be read by people who would appreciate them, who had lived through the same time in history as he had. She remembered Pops sitting in his comfy old armchair by the fire, glasses perched on the end of his nose, reading his books and telling her about his teenage years growing up during the war. Nanna, too, had loved reminiscing, and trying out the recipes from her old cookbook, baking Holly cakes and treats that she and her mother had made when Nanna was a child. ‘You can’t beat the old ways,’ Nanna had always said. ‘Nothing was wasted then and we were grateful for simple things like clothes on our backs and food in our bellies. Not like now when everyone is always wanting more.’

  ‘These are smashing, Holly love. Where did you get them from?’ Sid asked.

  ‘They were all my grandad’s.’ Holly kept the tears in check as she replied. ‘Mum and I finally got around to sorting out his room yesterday and I thought you would all like these books.’

  ‘Your grandad’s? Are you sure, love? I know how fond you were of him,’ another care assistant asked.

  ‘Pops would love to know that his books are bringing pleasure to other folk,’ Holly told her.

  ‘Look at this book, Sid. It tells you all about the aircraft operating in the First World War. Oh, my dad had such tales to tell. He was a gunner, you know.’ Agnes had tottered over to look at the box of books too. She turned back to Holly, her face wreathed in a big smile. ‘Thank you, lass. You’re such a kind soul.’

  ‘Heart as big as a dustbin lid, that’s our Holly.’ Sid took out his hankie, wiped his glasses and peered at the book again. ‘I wouldn’t mind reading that after you, Bert.’

  Holly felt someone touch her elbow and turned around.

  ‘This is very kind of you, honey.’ It was Neisha, the supervisor. ‘How are you all coping? How’s your mum?’

  ‘We’re okay. Pops had a good life, you know, and he’ll be happy now with Nanna. He loved her so much.’ She sniffed. ‘But I do miss him. I miss both of them.’ She took a tissue out of her pocket and wiped away a tear.

  Neisha put her arm around Holly’s shoulders. ‘You will, honey. It’s only natural. He’s only been gone a few weeks.’

  ‘I know. I feel like I’ve got a big hole in my life,’ Holly told her. Neisha was one of those people you could say anything to: she was a motherly Jamaican lady with a big smile and an even bigger hug. The residents loved her, and the staff all knew they could confide in her. ‘I miss seeing him every day, having a cup of tea with him and listening to his stories. Company was what he wanted most, especially after Nanna died.’

  ‘Remember that he’s still with you, in your heart.’ Neisha patted her hand comfortingly.

  ‘I know, but I wish he was here in person,’ Holly said sadly. Her life felt so empty without Nanna and Pops in it.

  * * *

  When she checked her phone at lunchtime she was pleased to see a grovelling apology text from Scott, promising to make it up to her that evening. She felt her heart soften. He hadn’t meant any harm; he’d had a bit too much to drink and now he was sorry. She knew he would be. Scott loved her, she was sure he did. Just like she loved him. She’d fallen in love with him as soon as she’d set eyes on him in the nightclub that Susie, her then-flatmate, had persuaded her to go to. When Scott had asked her for a dance Holly had been over the moon. She could hardly believe her luck when Scott had actually phoned the next day, as he’d promised, and asked her to go for a drink with him. With his smooth good looks, designer stubble and carefully coiffed blond hair, Scott could have taken his pick, and she couldn’t believe he’d actually chosen her, mousy little Holly.

  ‘You’re not mousy, you’re gorgeous,’ Susie had told her. ‘Scott’s the lucky one!’

  ‘What if he goes off me?’ Holly had asked. She didn’t have a good track record with the men in her life.

  Susie had considered this thoughtfully. ‘In my experience, guys like Scott do tend to like “feminine” women, so maybe you should change your image a bit? Put on a bit more make-up, let your hair down instead of tying it back, and stop living in jeans and jumpers?’ she had suggested. And who was Holly to argue? It was Susie’s makeover – doing her make-up and loaning her a sexy dress before they had gone out that night – that had first attracted Scott to her, after all. So Holly had continued with her new image whenever Scott had asked her out.

  When Scott’s flatmate had moved out, Scott had asked Holly to move in, pointing out that it made sense as they had been dating for almost a year, she spent most of her time there and they could share the expenses. It was perfect timing as Susie and her boyfriend, Liam, wanted to live together, so Liam moved in when Holly moved out. Holly was ecstatic. Now she and Scott were a proper couple. It was a bit of a strain keeping up the new image, though, and sometimes Holly really longed to slip back into her comfortable jeans and baggy jumpers, or shorts and colourful T-shirts, and to wear no make-up like she used to, but Scott was worth it.

  She loved him and wanted to marry him more than anything in the world. The trouble was Scott showed no sign of wanting to commit any further.