THE VOW
Debbie Howells
Copyright
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020
Copyright © Debbie Howells 2020
Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020
Cover photograph © plainpicture/Richard Nixon
Debbie Howells 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.
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Source ISBN: 9780008400163
Ebook Edition © October 2020 ISBN: 9780008400170
Version: 2020-09-10
Dedication
For Clare
Epigraph
You didn’t know about the alchemist’s curse.
About the significance that lay, not just in essence but in intent.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Part One
1996
Amy: Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Jess
Amy: Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
1996
Amy: Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
1996
Jess
Amy: Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Jess
Amy: Chapter Fourteen
1996
Amy: Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Part Two
Fiona: Chapter Seventeen
1996
Fiona: Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Amy: Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
1996
Jess
Amy: Chapter Twenty-Five
1996
Fiona: Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Jess
1996
Amy: Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jess
Amy: Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
1996
Fiona: Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jess
Amy: Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jess
2019
Jess
Acknowledgements
About the Author
About the Publisher
PART ONE
1996
A summer of cornflower skies and bleached stubble fields; of friendship forged amongst wild strawberries and banks of thyme, whispered secrets known only to you, as you sat in the shade of the woods.
It was a summer that seemed brighter, hotter, the weeks somehow stretched endlessly ahead. A summer of giddy heights; of first love, as you pulled apart the delicate pink dog roses that grew on arching stems amongst the hedgerows, one gossamer petal after another until you found what you wanted.
He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me.
You glanced towards him, as you fed your obsession; punishing yourself, as you took in his hand holding hers, his eyes unable to look away from her, wanting them for your own, unable to hide what was in your heart.
And as the petals wilted, you tried so hard to hide what was in your eyes: not just the hunger or the jealousy that devoured you, but the bittersweet pain of unrequited love.
Amy
Chapter One
Two weeks before our wedding, after Matt leaves for work, I find a piece of paper in the kitchen. As soon as I start reading, I put it down. When we decided to write our own wedding vows, we agreed that we wouldn’t share them until our wedding day. I imagine him printing them off, wanting to commit them to memory; the piece of paper left out unintentionally. I know I should put it away, out of sight, but unable to resist, I pick it up.
I promise to hold your hand, to steer you through life’s sorrow and darkness, on a path towards justice and hope. I will endeavour to know what’s best for you, to protect you from your past, help you build the future you deserve. Then when I can no longer be with you, a part of me will always be there, watching over you. In the shadows of your heart, on the soft curves of your skin, in the long-forgotten corners of your mind.
Frowning, I read it again. While my own vows overflow with love and romance, this isn’t quite what I was expecting, until I remind myself it’s what Matt’s always done. He looks out for me. After so many years alone, I’m lucky.
But as I drive to Brighton, a feeling of foreboding hangs over me. The days before a wedding should be the happiest of times. In the distance, the shimmering sea looks ice-blue. Then the city comes into view, cast in soft light as the sun rises. It’s a familiar sight, one I love, and yet a shadow follows me while I deliver my herbal remedies to two of my regular clients, before walking through the Lanes back to my car. Lost in my thoughts, at first, I don’t notice the footsteps behind me.
‘Excuse me …’
The voice is unfamiliar. I hesitate, unsure if it’s directed at me, then as the footsteps come closer, I turn around to find myself staring at a stranger.
‘I need to talk to you.’ As the woman speaks, I feel myself freeze. She looks older than her voice sounds, her grey hair wispy, her face strangely unlined. But it’s the colour of her eyes, a transparent ice-blue, that is hypnotic. For a moment, I’m mesmerised, then as a van speeds past, her hand grips my arm, pulling me away from the road. ‘I have to talk to you.’ There’s an unmistakable urgency in her voice. ‘Someone’s watching you. They know where you go, everything you do.’
As she speaks, my blood runs cold. ‘Who are you?’
Without telling me, she goes on. ‘You think you’re meant to be together.’ Each word both softly spoken and crystal clear, her eyes fixed on mine so that I can’t look away. ‘You think he’s the love of your life.’ She pauses for a moment. ‘He isn’t who you think he is.’ Then a strange look crosses her face. ‘You’re in danger.’
For a few moments, it’s as though I’m in a trance. Then I pull my eyes away from hers, confused, then suddenly angry. Matt and I are getting married, every detail of our wedding thoughtfully planned, from the country house venue down to the smallest flower. We’re happily settled in our house in Steyning,
