And Now You're Back Read online

  Copyright © 2021 Jill Mansell

  Extract from It Started With A Secret © 2020 Jill Mansell

  The right of Jill Mansell to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published in 2021 by

  HEADLINE REVIEW

  An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  First published as an Ebook in 2021 by

  HEADLINE REVIEW

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN: 978 1 4722 4852 7

  Map illustration by Laura Hall

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Author

  Praise

  Also by Jill Mansell

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Map of Elliscombe

  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

  Epilogue

  Read the opening chapters of IT STARTED WITH A SECRET

  Extract IT STARTED WITH A SECRET

  Ad 2 THIS COULD CHANGE EVERYTHING

  About the Author

  And Now You’re Back is the thirty-second fabulous, feel-good novel from Jill Mansell, whose books have sold over 11 million copies around the world.

  Jill lives with her family in Bristol, and is now a full-time writer, having previously worked in the field of Clinical Neurophysiology.

  Her hobbies include buying stationery, particularly magical new colours of ink for the fountain pen she uses to write all her books. (And if ‘magical’ sounds far-fetched, go on, just take a look at internet images for Emerald of Chivor, Jill’s favourite.)

  Her other hobbies include people-watching and finding new characters to put in her novels. So when you’re out, make sure to always be on your best behaviour. And beware beady-eyed authors carrying notebooks . . .

  Twitter @JillMansell

  Facebook/OfficialJillMansell

  The joy of Jill Mansell

  ‘One of my favourite writers’ Katie Fforde

  ‘Jill Mansell is the queen of witty, heart-warming, feel-good love stories’ Red

  ‘Reading Jill is always such a joy’ Veronica Henry

  ‘Gripping and incredibly comforting’ Marian Keyes

  ‘Like a little blast of sunshine – uplifting, heart-warming and supremely feelgood’ Sophie Kinsella

  ‘A fab, feel-good read’ Prima

  ‘Jill Mansell just gets better and better’ Heat *****

  ‘A compelling, thoughtful, emotionally intelligent book about love, friendship and not giving up’ Daily Mail

  Also by Jill Mansell

  It Started With A Secret

  Maybe This Time

  This Could Change Everything

  Meet Me At Beachcomber Bay

  You And Me, Always

  Three Amazing Things About You

  The Unpredictable Consequences Of Love

  Don’t Want To Miss A Thing

  A Walk In The Park

  To The Moon And Back

  Take A Chance On Me

  Rumour Has It

  An Offer You Can’t Refuse

  Thinking Of You

  Making Your Mind Up

  The One You Really Want

  Falling For You

  Nadia Knows Best

  Staying At Daisy’s

  Millie’s Fling

  Good At Games

  Miranda’s Big Mistake

  Head Over Heels

  Mixed Doubles

  Perfect Timing

  Fast Friends

  Solo

  Kiss

  Sheer Mischief

  Open House

  Two’s Company

  About the Book

  One magical winter’s night in Venice, Didi fell in love. But it ended - and he left without even saying goodbye.

  Now, thirteen years on, Shay Mason is back.

  Of course the old spark is still there, but that’s as far as it goes. Didi won’t let the past unsettle her present: as manager of one of the most stunning hotels in the Cotswolds, she’s happy at last and soon to be married. Anyway, Shay isn’t staying. He’s made a promise to his wayward father, that’s all. He’s going to keep it. And then he’ll be gone.

  But Shay’s return stirs up long-forgotten emotions in idyllic Elliscombe, and the scandal that led him to leave raises its head once again. More than one person isn’t telling the whole truth. The time has come for buried secrets to come to light. And it seems that this was someone’s intention all along . . .

  From the beloved and bestselling author of Maybe This Time and It Started With A Secret comes a fabulous new novel about love, friendship and finding the way to your best life.

  This book is dedicated to my brilliant readers.

  Thank you so much for buying – or borrowing – my books.

  You’re all wonderful! xxx

  Chapter 1

  ‘My God, my ears.’ The person in the corridor outside their hotel room was cracking up. ‘What’s that horrible noise?’

  Didi, wearing only a bath towel, pulled a face at the closed door and shouted back defiantly, ‘It’s called singing.’ Honestly, here they were in Venice, one of the most miraculous cities on the planet, and there always had to be one comedian trying to bring you down.

  ‘You can call it singing,’ her critic observed. ‘Some might call it caterwauling.’

  They heard the sound of his footsteps fade as he clattered up the rickety staircase to the boys’ rooms on the top floor.

  Didi said, ‘Shay Mason thinks he’s so hilarious.’

  ‘You were a bit out of tune,’ Layla told her. ‘To be fair.’

  Layla was always fair; it was really annoying.

  ‘I don’t know why you invited him. He doesn’t even
go to our school.’ Well, she could hazard a guess. As Layla carefully applied a second coat of turquoise mascara, Didi met her friend’s gaze in the age-spotted antique mirror and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Don’t go giving me one of your looks,’ said Layla. ‘He’s been kind to me, that’s all. I told you about the time those other boys were taking the mickey, and he stopped them doing it. I don’t fancy him.’

  ‘Not even a bit?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘OK, I believe you, thousands wouldn’t.’ Didi broke into a playful grin and turned up the radio as her favourite Elton John track began to play. ‘I only asked.’ Grabbing her hairbrush and holding it like a microphone, she sang off-key at the top of her voice, ‘I’M STILL STANDING, YEAH YEAH YEAH.’

  ‘He’ll be able to hear that.’ Layla pointed at the ceiling.

  ‘Oh I’m counting on it,’ said Didi.

  What had just happened? Didi’s eyes snapped open; something had woken her. Turning her head to one side to check the alarm clock, she saw that it was 3.10 in the morning.

  ‘Don’t put the prawns on my feet,’ muttered Layla from the other bed.

  Right, OK. Now she knew what had interrupted her sleep.

  ‘Just get into the washing machine,’ Layla mumbled. ‘You’re all blue.’

  Didi smiled to herself, because listening to Layla talking in her sleep was always fun. But that was it; after an irritable ‘Not the dog biscuits,’ Layla turned to face the opposite wall and began snoring gently once more.

  Wide awake now, Didi saw an eerie greyish light and flickers of movement filtering through the gap in the curtains. Sliding out of bed, she crept across the room and peered out of the window. Incredibly, it was snowing outside, fat flakes falling like feathers from an inky sky. Snow in Venice, during February half-term; who’d have thought it? When they’d come upstairs to bed four hours ago, it had been bitingly cold, but still no one had expected this to happen.

  She pressed her nose against the icy glass and peered left and right, drinking in as much of the view as she could see. But there really wasn’t much of one; Calle Ciati was a winding back street, dark and silent. She’d be able to see so much more from the front of the hotel, which overlooked the canal.

  Venice. In the snow. But what if it all disappeared by morning?

  Layla was completely out for the count; she might no longer be actually snoring, but her lips were making a small pfff noise with each regular exhalation. She loved to sleep and couldn’t bear being woken even a minute before it was time to get up.

  Five minutes later, bundled up and clutching her yellow bobble hat, Didi crept down the ornate staircase, reaching the deserted vestibule and silently letting herself out of the hotel. Oh wow, it was amazing; the snow was already several inches deep, soft and creaking underfoot as she turned left and made her way along the narrow street. A couple of other people had taken the same journey earlier, their footprints already disappearing as the snow fell faster, but there was no one else in sight. Didi was alone but felt entirely safe, although she took care to keep away from the potentially slippery edges when the next pathway led her to one of the back-street canals.

  Then she made the final turn and there it was, the vast expanse of St Mark’s Square stretching out before her. Her heart soared at the sight. It was spectacular enough in daylight, but now, blanketed in white and with the snowflakes tumbling down, it was utterly magical. St Mark’s Basilica, topped with gold and fronted by the ornate sky-high flagpoles, looked like an illuminated wedding cake. Over to her right, a couple were locked in each other’s arms, kissing. To the left, someone else was building a snowman. A few other people, drawn by the snow, were taking photographs and a woman in a full-length white faux-fur coat carried a dachshund in her arms as she made her way diagonally across the square and passed the Campanile before disappearing from view.

  Didi pushed her hands into the pockets of her own rather less glamorous outfit, more of a knee-length padded anorak than a coat, but at least it was warm and waterproof. Having observed the energetic creator of the snowman for a couple of minutes, she found herself moving closer before realising with a jolt who it was.

  Oh great. Instinctively she spun around, facing away and catching her breath whilst working out what to do next. A part of her was furious with Shay Mason for ruining this once-in-a-lifetime experience, because up until five seconds ago she’d been so blissfully wrapped up in the wonder of it, and now she was going to have to head back to the—

  Whoomph! A snowball hit the ground just to the left of her, skidding past before disintegrating like powdered smoke.

  Ha, not as clever as he thought he was. With an air of triumph, Didi turned and said, ‘Missed.’

  Across the ten-metre distance separating them, Shay Mason called back, ‘I meant to miss.’

  ‘Of course you did.’

  ‘Don’t move,’ he ordered, reaching down to scoop up and swiftly pack together another snowball.

  Didi stayed where she was, wondering if it was going to hit her in the chest. Like a fast bowler, Shay took aim and threw the snowball. The first had landed two feet to her left. This one landed two feet to the other side of her. Shay did a small bow, then broke into a grin. ‘If I’d wanted to get you, I could. But I’m a gentleman, so I wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘You’re never going to win a snowball fight.’ Didi found herself reluctantly smiling in return.

  ‘I’m a lover, not a fighter.’ He paused, then shook his head. ‘That’s probably the wrong thing to say. All I really want to do is finish building this snowman. You could give me a hand if you like.’

  ‘Could I?’

  His eyes were bright. ‘You can even sing.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Didi. ‘You had to go there.’

  ‘I was only teasing earlier.’ The grin broadened. ‘You have the voice of an angel.’

  ‘The voice of an angel who sometimes sings off-key. It’s OK, I know it’s not always great. I just love doing it anyway.’

  He tilted his head. ‘So are you going to stay and give me a hand?’

  ‘May as well.’ Snowflakes were landing on his hair and lashes, settling on the shoulders of his navy jacket. ‘Seems like you could do with some help from an expert.’

  It took them a good thirty minutes, but at last their snowman was completed and looking magnificent. Standing five feet high, with twenty-cent coins for eyes, an abandoned stripy scarf wrapped around his neck and Didi’s yellow bobble hat providing the finishing touch, he wore a jaunty smile fashioned from discarded bottle caps.

  A group of Spanish tourists applauded their efforts and offered them a swig from their bottle of Prosecco. Spotting another unopened bottle protruding from the overcoat pocket of one of the men, Shay asked in broken Spanish if he could buy it and offered him a twenty-euro note.

  When the Spaniards had left, they collected two chairs from the dozens laid out in front of the café behind them and planted them next to their magnificent creation. As the snowflakes continued to tumble helter-skelter, Shay removed the wire cage from around the bottle’s cork and passed it to Didi, who used it to give their snowman a nose. He popped the cork and they took it in turns to drink from the bottle before setting it down in the snow between them. Then together they sat back, side by side, to properly take in the beauty of their surroundings.

  ‘So here we are.’ Shay’s bare fingers were loosely clasped as they rested on his chest. ‘I know your name and I know where you live, but not much more than that. Why don’t you tell me something fascinating about you?’

  Didi considered the question. They both lived in Elliscombe and were in their last year at school, but the social circles they moved in were entirely different and seldom overlapped. She and Layla attended Stonebank Hall, several miles north of the town, and their parents were able to afford the fees, plus such luxuries as holidays abroad. By way of contrast, Shay Mason was in his final year at the local comprehensive at the opposite end of town, his mum
had died six years ago and his dad was currently in prison. Again.

  But those facts alone might give a stranger the wrong idea about Shay, who didn’t appear to feel remotely hard done by and who’d always brimmed with confidence. As Didi thought this, it occurred to her that she appeared to know more about him than he did about her, probably because his upbringing had been that much more interesting to observe and other people had loved to gossip about him. Over the years, whilst his father had spent varying periods of time languishing at Her Majesty’s pleasure, Shay had convinced his social workers that he’d be staying with the parents of various school friends before stealthily moving back into the family home and looking after himself whilst working hard at school and simultaneously holding down two or three part-time jobs during the evenings and weekends. He and his clothes were always clean. He had charm, coupled with confidence and the ability to chat easily with anyone at all. He was tall and lean, built like an athlete. And of course it didn’t do any harm that he possessed the kind of glowing good looks that made him irresistible to far more than his fair share of admirers.

  Charisma, that was the indefinable quality. People either had it or they didn’t. It would be easy to feel sorry for anyone else whose upbringing had been so chaotic and unpromising, but you wouldn’t feel sorry for Shay Mason.

  Anyway, he’d asked her a question. ‘I can pick up a pencil with my bare toes,’ said Didi.

  ‘Useful.’

  ‘It is useful.’

  ‘And you can actually write messages with it?’

  ‘Of course, but I’m not going to do it now. Your turn. What’s fascinating about you?’

  Promptly he replied, ‘I can fit a whole crumpet in my mouth in one go.’

  She nodded, impressed. ‘Equally useful.’

  ‘Can I ask you another question? Why did Layla invite me along on this trip?’

  It had been one of Layla’s father’s typically expansive gestures. He’d asked her how she’d like to celebrate her eighteenth birthday, and Layla had said she’d always wanted to visit Venice, thinking that it would be a family holiday. Instead, her dad had told her to pick nine friends so she could celebrate with them in style, creating memories that would last a lifetime. To avoid mayhem, her parents had come along too, in order to pay for everything and keep the party under control.