CHRISTINA DEMOSTHENOUS! I will shout that name forever because you’re a brilliant editor and it really is a joy to work with you. I’ve been trying to work out why that is and, essentially, it’s because you’re so damn kind. All of your emails, edits and notes always have a lot of love that shines through them, you care about the work but also the author. Even when you’re telling me to stop swearing, you’re so bloody nice about it, and there was a lot of swearing in this one (over one hundred forms of the f*** word in the first draft – sorry!). Thank you for being the ultimate champion, the most wonderful human and for sharing my love of good trainers and wrap dresses.
At Bookouture, a shout out to everyone behind the scenes who make the magic happen, especially Sarah Hardy, Lauren Finger, Rhian McKay, Becca Allen, Alba Proko and the incomparable Sarah Durham, who, if you’re listening to this on audio, you would have heard embody the spirit and joy of Lucy. Thank you for bringing my words to life with such care and enthusiasm.
Now on to the Oscar-style list of people who’ve randomly helped with this novel along the way. You don’t know these people but you should because they are bloody brilliant. Emma Harris is my all-time favourite school-gate mum. She’s a provider of wine, incomparable chat and counsel and one of the most formidably talented and wonderful people I know. Thank you for showing me that as a mother, the key is balance but also pursuing the things in life that make your soul sing. Thank you for all your stellar knowledge and voice notes about theatre and dance. WINE! SOON!
When I wrote the hypnotherapist scene, I was in random conversation with Will Simpson, who basically created Cosmo for me. He immediately leapt onto that page but, I’ll be honest, the character came alive when I added your voice. That’s because you are calming, kind and the best sort of people. One day, I hope to be able to gift you a dreamcatcher pendant, you won’t have to wear it. Now shake my hand.
Before I was a writer, I studied psychology at university and it was good to be able to dig into the annals of my acquired knowledge to talk about Lucy’s condition. Learning about people and their behaviour is a massive part of being able to write characters and move them around a page so a thank you to the infinite number of teachers, lecturers, study mates and tutors who instilled my love of the subject.
Since joining Bookouture, I can’t dispute that there have been a number of book bloggers and reviewers who’ve championed the Callaghan sisters at every turn and have done a stellar job in promoting my books, coming on book tours and being such wonderful channels of support and friendship. Javier @ Diagnosis Bookaholic (bestie and Spanish translator oracle), Lucy Moore @ The Book Club Bitches, Emma @ Star Crossed Reviews, Gemma @ Between the Pages Book Club, Fireflies & Free Kicks, Janice @ Jan’s Book Buzz, Sharon @ Stardust Book Reviews, Els @ B for Bookreview, Vik @ Little Miss Book Lover 87, Honolulu Belle @ Books & Bindings, Jen @ Nothing Like A Good Book, Jo @ Tea & Cake for the Soul, and the wonderfully kind and lovely Gavin Dimmock. Love and thanks for being there from the beginning but, that said, there have been dozens of others who have read and reviewed my books, and offered myself and so many other authors brilliant levels of support. I am in awe of all of you and the work you do for the book community.
And here is a list of random people who I adore so very much. You either read my books, share all my book spam, give me writing suggestions, inspire characters, are wonderfully supportive, or are always on the end of a phone or messaging app. You make this writing lark a lot less lonesome: Sara Hafeez, Graham Price, Mike aka Gurney Harlech, Barbara and John Bailey, Elizabeth Neep, Luke Travis, Eva Verde, Jo Lovett-Turner, Drew Davies, Leigh Gill, Pip Sumner, Sophie Ranald and Shirley Golden.
You don’t write about sisters unless you’ve had sisters and so I thank Leanne, my one and only bestest sister. When I wrote this book, I had some building work done and I moved my whole family in with hers. Literally eleven people under one roof, testing her Wi-Fi to the max and literally life imitating art, or maybe it’s the other way round? Those three months inspired a lot of this story. We got through a lot of cereal, laundry and toilet paper but we also brought back all our old dance routines and performed them nightly to our very confused children. We weren’t even drunk. Shout out to the best night where we (sort of) won all that money on Pointless by knowing all the very obscure films of Emily Blunt. Thank you for being the better sister. You know it’s true.
I should also thank my brother too or he’ll get the hump but the truth is you’ve always been our third musketeer and I am sorry we dressed you in that yellow Snoopy swimming costume when you were younger and took photos. Thank you, Jon-Jon, my unofficial twin and the most wonderful little brother that everyone loves (except me, I think you’re occasionally a smart-arse and I will always live to beat you at Scrabble). And to the other man in my life, my wonderful father, Barry, who always asks me how my writing is going and who gifted all my books to his cleaner without knowing what they were about.
As said, I’m not Lucy. Oh, I’m a complex combination of all the sisters but my Lucy moments I learnt from my mum, who’s always been pretty bad-ass. I have a resounding memory once in a multi-storey car park when a man took her car park space and she followed him to the lift, had a go and then turned to his wife and questioned her judgement to be married to such a twat. I think I was ten when that happened. My mum calls people out. If she hears her grandchildren have been spoken to badly at school, she calls me up and questions why I haven’t been waiting outside the school to take matters into my own hands (obviously, I’ve never done this…). But with fire comes love and someone who cares deeply for her clan. Thank you for helping me find my fire when mine is lacking. To note, she still does buy me underwear every Christmas even though at the time of writing I am forty-one years of age.
Nick Bailey. If I wasn’t a Lucy then my husband certainly was and it’s a wonder he made it out of school to become a reasonably well-adjusted adult. His stories could fill novels and, as I was a goody-two-shoes at school, I thank him for giving me a list of all the times he misbehaved at school. He did make a French teacher cry. He can’t remember why. Besides being my favourite wrong ’un, thank you for all that you do for me. Those words will never quite be enough. Thank you for screaming at me to back up my work, for loving me in such quiet yet reassuring ways, for your patience when I spend half an hour choosing what to watch on the Netflix.
Bambinos. I have four of them and the joy, the laughs and the pride they give me is unparalleled. It can’t be easy having a mum who writes and is scatty AF but you never hold it against me. In fact, you sometimes show up with tea and biscuits, which shows me I’ve done something right. However, being your mother isn’t always easy and this is where I’m going to get a bit emotional. My editor always applauds the authenticity in my hospital scenes. I’d like to say it’s because of my tip-top research but it’s mainly because I’ve spent a bit of time in hospitals with my little people. My youngest son was once rushed into hospital with a severe blood infection and septic hip, and my youngest daughter has a chronic heart condition. Being strong for my kids in those moments were the most challenging times in my life but I’m under no illusion that the reason they’re both still here is because of the NHS. I rarely get political but the last couple of years and my own experiences have shown me how very lucky we are to have this establishment in our country and to have such wonderful people work within it, helping others with such care, empathy and dedication. Look after it, protect it, hold it in the esteem it deserves. A special thank you to Dr Elliott, a paediatric orthopaedic surgeon in Southampton General Hospital. We were on her service for five years and I thank her every day for saving my boy.
As this was Lucy’s book, my next paragraph was going to be aimed at the people in my life who perhaps have tried to stop me from getting this far – a disparagement list if you will. However, both my editor and copy-editor suggested it may not be the best idea, which is both a shame for me and you, as it was quite a funny end to this novel, and filled you in on a few of my crapbag exes and lordy, I have some STORIES. Anyway, without naming names because you know, lawsuits, I channel my best Lucy at this very moment and stick up my middle fingers at all those people. I don’t hold grudges (much) but if you’re ever wondering if I’m writing about you then the answer is probably yes. But it’s usually because I have to create a completely unlikeable character and need the inspiration. None of what you tried to do worked. I’m exactly where I need to be.
And there we are, the Callaghans have come to the end of their story. Thank you, Meg, Emma, Beth, Grace and Lucy. You’re all parts of me, my favourite imaginary friends and, for the last three years, you and your families have been like some sort of invisible lifeline, you’ve kept this writer company and it’s been a joy to bring your stories to the page. The rest of your lives are unwritten for now but, in my head, you’ll always be dancing to TLC, throwing cakes at each other and telling Lucy to get off the table before she breaks it. You will always be my best bitches.