Page 120 of From Now On

At thirteen and a half, Duke is a world away from that shy and unsure eleven-year-old he’d been when Charlie first got to know him properly.

‘You’ve so many friends now,’ Charlie had said when he had collected Duke at the end of term. It had taken ages for Duke to say his goodbyes.

‘Yeah, Evie will always be my best friend though. It’s good that people like me, but you know… I like myself nowadays and that’s the key isn’t it, to happiness? Liking who you are.’

‘You’re so very wise.’

‘Mum always said I was an old soul.’

You can see this now. Strands of ‘Unforgettable’ drift from his sax. Duke has his eyes closed; he doesn’t just play the music, he feels it.

‘I can’t believe it’s the first day of our holiday and he wants to work,’ Nina says.

‘Playing music isn’t exactly work,’ says Charlie.

‘And this isn’t exactly a holiday.’ Pippa stretches out her arm and tilts her hand so the diamonds in the platinum band on her ring finger sparkle in the sun. Bringing Nina and Duke on their honeymoon isn’t conventional but then they aren’t a conventional sort of family. Besides, time is precious. Nina will be heading off to uni in September to explore psychology even though she’s still not completely sure what she wants to do yet. There’s a creative side to her that also needs fulfilling.

Every moment is one to treasure.

Duke finishes the song and takes a bow, thanking everyone for listening.

‘I can’t believe it’s been two hours,’ he says as he crouches down to put his instrument back in its case. ‘What’s the plan now?’

‘Shall we drop the sax back at the hotel and then head for the beach?’ Charlie asks.

They stroll, Billie stopping to sniff everything.

It is down one of the side streets that Nina freezes. ‘Oh. My. God.’ She clasps one hand over her mouth and, with the other, she points.

Charlie’s eyes follow her finger and when he sees what’s in her field of vision he takes a step backwards, in shock.

‘Charlie!’ Duke exclaims.

‘It’s brilliant!’ Pippa claps her hands and rushes over to the bookshop. There, in the centre of the window, is a huge display of books. Charlie’s book.

‘It’s still so… I can’t quite…’ Charlie rakes his hands through his hair. He’s been published a week now and he still isn’t over his astonishment and surprise whenever he sees his novel. He hopes this feeling never wears off. As a literary agent he was used to sharing his authors’ happiness, but he never imagined it could feel…

‘It’s bloody epic,’ Duke says, rushing inside.

There’s a table by the door, piled high with hardback copies. Charlie traces the gold embossed title with his fingers –All The Things You Are.It could never have been called anything else.

He opens the cover, reads the dedication that brought a lump to his throat when he wrote it, still brings a lump to his throat when he reads it.

For Mum, who made us all the things we are. We miss you every day.

‘No dogs in here.’ A stern-looking woman with round metal glasses hurries over to them.

Nina picks up a book and points to the back cover with a grin before pointing to Charlie. The woman’s eyes flicker between his author photo, and his face.

‘You’re… you’re Charlie…’

‘Johnson.’ He uses the same surname as his siblings now.

‘So, the dog in the book, is she based on…?’ She crouches and fusses Billie behind her ears.

Charlie smiles. He doesn’t tell her that the dog isn’t based on Billie. It is Billie. He doesn’t tell her that the book, a supposed work of fiction, isn’t really. It’s him. Them. Their lives.

‘I love the family in your book. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there was an old-fashioned family like that who played music rather than watched TV? Who actually liked spending time together and put each other first?’

---