Always Something There To Remind Me
It’s never too late to live your dreams!Divorcee Lydia is clearing out her attic when she finds an old, dust-strewn notebook, containing a list of her teenage hopes and dreams:-Overcome fear of flying-Learn to ice skate like Jayne Torvill-Sing in front of an audience-Get a date with a rockstar!Still petrified of planes and with no celebrity notch on her bedpost in sight, there’s no denying that her younger self would be disappointed. So Lydia elects to tackle her teenage bucket list: one dream at a time!From falling flat on her bum on an ice rink to a hilarious encounter with a hypnotist, Lydia’s journey throws up more chaos than she ever imagined. Thank goodness her gorgeous friend Des is there to literally hold her hand every step of the way!But Lydia soon realises that there’s something missing from her list: love. And it could just be that the man who’s helping her achieve the dreams of the past will do much, much more…and unlock the key to her future!
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Itâs never too late to live your dreamsâ¦
Divorcee Lydia is clearing out her attic when she finds an old, dust-strewn notebook, containing a list of her teenage hopes and dreams:
- Overcome fear of flying
- Learn to ice skate like Jayne Torvill
- Sing in front of an audience
- Get a date with a rockstar!
Still petrified of planes and with no celebrity notch on her bedpost in sight, thereâs no denying that her younger self would be disappointed. So Lydia elects to tackle her teenage bucket list: one dream at a time!
From falling flat on her bum on an ice rink to a hilarious encounter with a hypnotist, Lydiaâs journey throws up more chaos than she ever imagined. Thank goodness her gorgeous friend Des is there to literally hold her hand every step of the way!
But Lydia soon realises that thereâs something missing from her list: love. And it could just be that the man whoâs helping her achieve the dreams of the past will do much, much moreâ¦and unlock the key to her future!
Always Something There to Remind Me
Lilian Kendrick
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014
Copyright © Lilian Kendrick 2014
Lilian Kendrick asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for 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 authorâs 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, downloaded, 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.
E-book Edition © June 2014 ISBN: 9781474009102
Version date: 2018-07-23
LILIAN KENDRICK
A semi-retired teacher, Lilian started writing as soon as she realised that the pointed end of the pencil made marks appear on the paper.
She writes poetry and short stories of all kinds, but is most at home with comic verse and flash fiction.
An avid reader of horror and crime stories, Lilian was surprised to find that her preferred genre for novel writing is womenâs fiction for readers of âa certain ageâ, with the emphasis on romance.
Her first novel âSister, Daughter, Mother Wifeâ was published in 2009. She has also published a collection of flash fiction, âA Flash in the Panâ and a poetry collection âPoems, Prayers and Parodiesâ.
Some of her poetry was included in an international collaborative anthology, âPoeticising Chat â Rambling Poets at Café Cyberâ in 2011.
Contents
I would like to express my gratitude to those who read and reviewed the early drafts of my work, especially my dear friend Trudi Morrissey and my niece, Ronnie Deery.
I should particularly like to mention authors Diane Dickson, Kirk Haggerty and Tonia Marlowe whose critiques helped me to improve the story.
To my beta readers who never fail me.
We called them rough books or jotters, those thick, grey-covered exercise books we were given for taking notes in at school. The ones we used for âreal workâ were coloured according to the subject: blue for Maths, yellow for English, green for Geography and so on. Anyway, none of that really matters. What was important was that Iâd found a rough book after all those years ⦠well, to be precise Iâd found my rough book from year 10. Iâd been fifteen and full of it! The battered grey cover was smothered in graffiti: âI luv J.G.â, âLuvsik Kitten Rules!â and other similar sentiments declaring my undying love for the band of the moment. Almost thirty years on, I smiled at the memories brought back by my teenage scribblings.
Clearing out the attic had been Trudiâs idea. She thought it was high time I got over the whole divorce thing and put Bob out of my mind for ever. Not that I was thinking about him much by then. The hurt was healing at last. Hearts donât really break, do they? They just get squeezed out of shape by life, and I was better off without him anyway â everyone said so. Anyway, it was a wet Friday evening in October and, having nothing better to do, Iâd decided to tackle the boxes that Iâd dragged around unopened for most of my adult life. It was kind of fun â until I opened the rough book and flicked through it. That was when I discovered the list. If I hadnât found the bloody thing Iâd have been fine. âMy Plans for Lifeâ â written when I was fifteen â my hopes and dreams summed up in a few bullet points, and here I was, well past my sell-by date, and Iâd achieved hardly any of them. Where did I go wrong? How did those dreams escape so easily? Unable to come up with the answers, I did what any woman would do in the circumstances: I sat on the floor and cried my heart out.
