Note to Self

Anna Bell

• Publisher: HQ
• Year: 2022
• eBook ISBN:
  9780008467647
• Topic: Literature
• Index: Literature

From the author of We Just Clicked and The Man I Didn't Marry comes a brand-new romantic and moving love story daring to find a second chance in life and love.

'The perfect combination of poignancy and charm. A warm hug in book form, and a gorgeous summer read' Holly Miller, The Sight of You

'I absolutely adored Note to Self. A brilliant, fun concept, characters that will steal your heart and a love story to make you swoon. It should be on everyone's summer reading list!' Emily Stone, Always in December

'A triumph of humour and heart! I'm such a sucker for nostalgia and romance combined, and Note to Self took me on the most perfect rollercoaster of emotion' Laura Jane Williams, Our Stop

'Warm, emotional and thought-provoking' Fabulous

––

It's never too late to follow your heart.

One summer's day seventeen years ago Edie and Joel meet.
Their connection is instant and a friendship is born, although Edie can't help but wish for more. But just as she builds up the courage to lay her heart on the line, one night changes everything…

Edie's moved on from the heartbreak of years ago. So the last thing she expects to receive on her thirty-fifth birthday is an email… from her eighteen-year-old self. As more emails arrive, she starts to remember what – or rather who – she left behind.

Following her own advice, Edie heads back to the place where it all began, and finds her path unexpectedly crossing with Joel's once more. Could this finally be their chance at love? Or are some things better left in the past?

––

'Absolutely adored Note to Self – such a brilliant concept, and the sizzling chemistry between Edie and Joel had me rooting for them right from the first! Definitely one to add to your beach reading list this year' Beth Reekles, bestselling author of The Kissing Booth

'Warm, charming and totally relatable, I was so engrossed in this gorgeous story that I almost missed my tube stop! Loved it' Lorraine Brown, The Paris Connection

Chapter 1

I sometimes think that I am the only person in the world who doesn’t enjoy their birthday. There’s that assumption that the day has to be special and better than any other day of the year: the most fun had, the best meal ever eaten, the most love felt. There’s always so much pressure that it inevitably feels like you’re setting yourself up for a fall when it doesn’t live up to expectations. And this year, on my thirty-fifth birthday, for some inexplicable reason I’m feeling it even more.

I’ve never been that bothered about getting older. I didn’t have a midlife crisis when I hit thirty and I don’t dread the thought of turning forty or fifty, so I can’t put my finger on why all week I’ve been freaking out about turning thirty-five. It’s not even a special birthday.

I might not have the husband or children I once expected to have at my age, but I have so many other things to be grateful for. A flat all of my own. A boyfriend who’s sweet and funny, who isn’t in a hurry to fast-track our relationship. I’m co-director of a successful business. Yet, despite all this, I can’t shake the feeling that turning thirty-five is significant somehow.

I quicken my step towards the café where I’m meeting Dad and Layla, hoping they’ll distract me from my thoughts. A breeze whips around me and I pull my cardigan across my chest. It might be June and almost a midsummer’s day, but there’s nothing midsummer about today’s weather at all.

I immediately locate my dad in the corner of the café when I walk in.

‘There’s the birthday girl,’ he shouts, loud enough for the rest of the customers to hear. He folds his newspaper and places it on the table, before standing up to give me a big hug. ‘Happy birthday, love. Thirty-five, eh?’

‘Thanks for reminding me.’ I peer around the table, trying to spot any discreetly placed birthday decorations. Dad knows I hate any kind of fuss on my birthday. ‘I’m glad to see you finally listened to my no-decorations rule.’

I catch the slight twinkle in his eye as he tries to suppress a smile.

‘What have you done? The whole reason I agreed to meet you here, and not the office, is to keep this low-key.’

My dad and I are co-directors of an office supply company and in years gone by he’s decorated my desk with balloons, banners and streamers, and there’s always a speech. I hate speeches.

The bell above the door of the café jangles, and in breezes Layla, one of our work colleagues, who over the years has become my best friend too. A waitress walks out from behind the counter with a tray of hot drinks and Layla nearly takes her out with the two pink foil helium number balloons that pop out from behind her.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she says, trying to wrestle the three and five under control. ‘Happy birthday, Edie.’

‘Did you forget to send Layla the no-fuss memo?’ Dad laughs, oblivious to my eye roll.

I grit my teeth, standing up to give her a hug, and she tucks the offending balloons around my chair.

‘No one is letting me forget how old I am today, are they?’

‘By the time you get to my age you need all the reminders you can get,’ says Dad, standing up. I can’t help but crack a smile, as, deep down, I know they’re only making a fuss because they care. ‘I’ll go order us some coffees; two flat whites?’

‘Perfect,’ Layla says, and I nod.

As Dad goes to queue for the drinks, Layla pulls out an expensive-looking box of chocolates and slides them over to me.

‘Thank you, you know you didn’t need to.’ She’d already given me her present when she took me on a fancy spa day at the weekend.

‘Couldn’t resist. Besides, I couldn’t show up empty-handed – I had to give you something on your actual birthday. Speaking of gifts, I’m dying to know what Miles got you!’

‘Oh, I don’t know yet, I’m not seeing him until tonight.’

‘Didn’t he sleep at yours last night?’

‘No, because I’m seeing him tonight.’

‘You two’ – she shakes her head – ‘there’s nothing to stop you seeing each other two nights in a row, you know.’

‘I know, but just because we’re having fun dating, doesn’t mean to say that we have to live in each other’s pockets. We both like having our own space, and seeing each other a couple of times a week suits us fine. Besides, a birthday is just another day.’

‘I feel like you should come round and do a TED talk about that in our house. Try convincing the twins that their eighth birthday is like any other day.’

‘Isn’t their birthday in October? That’s months away.’

‘I know, but that hasn’t stopped them from lobbying for every bit of the not-even-released-yet Liverpool football kit, an Xbox, a zillion games for the aforementioned Xbox, an iPad.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘Anyway, this is not about them, this is about you. Where’s Miles taking you to dinner? Somewhere fancy, I hope?’

‘The Chambers.’

‘Ooh, that is proper swanky.’ She lowers her voice and leans across the table. ‘You know that’s a proposal restaurant, don’t you? I think I read in the local paper that they get on average two proposals a week.’

My whole body stiffens.

‘We’re definitely not at that stage.’

She gives me a knowing smile. ‘Maybe tonight will prove otherwise.’

My stomach’s started to churn even though I know she must be wrong. We’ve only been together five months.

The coffee machine starts to whirr away in the background and Dad comes back over and takes his seat.

‘What have I missed?’ he asks.

‘Edie is going to The Chambers tonight for dinner with Miles.’

‘Oh, you’ll have to let us know what you think. I was thinking that perhaps we could book it for our Christmas do this year.’

‘Blimey, business must be good,’ says Layla. ‘That’s a step up from last year’s trip to the pub across the road.’

‘I think winning a place on the council tender should be reason to celebrate,’ says Dad.

‘Just because we’re a preferred supplier doesn’t guarantee that anyone will order from us,’ I say. ‘It might be best to play it safe this year and go all out next year when we know if it’s made a difference.’

‘Come on, Edie, I’ve got that dress from Whistles that’s just itching to be worn again. It would be the perfect occasion,’ says Layla, pleading with her eyes.

‘You and that Whistles dress.’

‘Well, if someone would get married already I’d have somewhere else to wear it.’ She gives me a pointed look.

The waitress comes over with a tray and I’m relieved of the interruption until I notice with horror that she’s got an almond croissant with a lit candle in it. She breaks out into a loud rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ and Dad and Layla don’t miss a beat joining in. The rest of the patrons of the café sing along and my cheeks burn. I try and sink down in my chair, but between Dad singing at the top of his lungs and the pink helium balloons advertising my age, there’s no escaping it.

The waitress places it down in front of me and I mutter a thanks before I blow out the candle. Dad pats me on the back and Layla claps her hands.

‘Thank you for that complete embarrassment.’

‘Come on, it’s your birthday; we just wanted to make it special. You know it’s only a fraction of what your mum would have done,’ says Dad. ‘Jan always loved birthdays.’

My heart burns at the mention of Mum. He’s right though; she would have done something completely over the top. She would have filled the whole café with balloons and there would have been a cake the size of a table, and it certainly wouldn’t have had one solitary candle on top.

I can’t help but feel sad. My birthdays have never been the same since she died seventeen years ago. Each one serves as a painful reminder that she’s no longer here. I’ve almost reached the point now where I’ve celebrated more without her than I did with her.

Dad senses the shift in mood, and he puts his hand over mine. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to; his being here knowing how I’m feeling is good enough.

‘So how long have you got before you need to go?’ I say, trying not to slip down a melancholy rabbit hole.

Layla’s a governor at the school that her twin boys attend, and she’s roped Dad into doing a careers talk there this morning.

‘In about twenty minutes. You should come,’ says Layla.

‘Um, that’s OK. I thought I might just potter round and go to the shops.’

In truth, I hadn’t really thought about what I was going to do after I left them. It was a last-minute decision to take the day off, mainly motivated by the weird feeling I’ve had surrounding this birthday.

‘Why don’t you come with us?’ says Dad. ‘I feel like I haven’t seen you properly for ages. It would be nice to spend the morning together at least.’

‘Dad, we work together every day. We see plenty of each other.’

‘Yeah, but it’s different when we’re in the office. I just feel like we haven’t caught up a lot lately.’

I don’t want to point out that it’s his fault, so instead I take a bite of my croissant. He’s always busy with Julie, the woman he’s started dating.

‘You know I don’t really like those kinds of events, I’m never very good at answering questions on the spot.’

‘It’s not like you’ll have to say anything, just come and watch my talk.’

‘The boys would love to see you to wish you happy birthday,’ says Layla.

The two of them are ganging up on me, but it’s not like I have anything better to do and perhaps it’ll distract me from thinking about my birthday.

‘OK, why not.’

‘Good,’ says Dad, a triumphant look on his face. ‘Now, that almond croissant looks really good. I might just get one for myself.’

‘Dad! You know you’re supposed to be cutting down.’

‘Don’t worry, I didn’t have any breakfast at home.’

That’s not really the point and he knows it.

‘Plus, it’s not every day your baby turns thirty-five.’

‘Tell me about it,’ I say, wishing that everyone would stop reminding me.

Chapter 2

We arrive at the school in plenty of time for Dad’s presentation and are greeted by Claudia, the twins’ teacher. She wastes no time getting straight to the logistics of how the talk’s going to work.

‘First, we’ll introduce you to the kids,’ says Claudia, ‘then we’ve got the perfect story lined up for you to read, if that’s OK? It’s about a boy deciding what he wants to be when he grows up, and then we’ll finish off with a Q&A. It’ll be nice and informal, so hopefully the kids will all get to join in.’

My dad is grinning like a Cheshire cat. He’s the complete opposite of me in that he loves public speaking. Dad’s the face and the spokesperson of our company and I’m the behind-the-scenes-making-sure-everything-happens person; it’s why we make such a goo...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Praise
• Booklist
• About the Author
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Note to Readers
• Dedication
• 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
• Acknowledgements
• Extract
• About the Publisher