Erin Kaye - THE PROMISE OF HAPPINESS

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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THE PROMISE OF HAPPINESS. Copyright © Erin Kaye 2011. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook 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 ebooks

Patricia Gibb asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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Source ISBN: 9781847562012

Ebook Edition © JUNE 2011 ISBN: 9780007340415

Version: 2018-06-26

To Mary Clare, my eldest sister

Title Page Erin Kaye The Promise of Happiness

Copyright

Chapter One

‘Nearly there, Oli!’ said Louise McNeill brightly to her three-year-old…

Chapter Two

With Joanne’s help it didn’t take Louise long to organise…

Chapter Three

Sian stood on the step at the back of Joanne’s…

Chapter Four

A week later and Louise surveyed the table in front…

Chapter Five

It was early, but the day was already hot and…

Chapter Six

Louise was looking forward to the night out with Joanne,…

Chapter Seven

Sian, who had been awake since dawn, stood looking out…

Chapter Eight

‘Bye, Oli. Mummy’s going to work now,’ said Louise, standing…

Chapter Nine

‘If you don’t hurry up, Holly, I’m going to be…

Chapter Ten

‘So how are things with you, Gemma?’ said Joanne. She…

Chapter Eleven

Andy lay sprawled lifelessly on the sofa, in a T-shirt…

Chapter Twelve

‘She says she doesn’t want to go out,’ said Sian’s…

Chapter Thirteen

Sian stood in the doorway to Louise’s small kitchen wearing…

Chapter Fourteen

On Sunday morning Joanne struggled into the kitchen with the…

Chapter Fifteen

The taxi dropped the girls off and Joanne ran out…

Chapter Sixteen

Sian stared out the shop window decorated with paper snowflakes…

Chapter Seventeen

‘The nurse tells me you’ll get out tomorrow,’ said Andy…

Chapter Eighteen

Sian stood barefoot on the beach at Ballygally, the cool…

Read on for an exclusive reading guide to Promise of Happiness

Reading Group Questions

Read on for an interview with Erin Kaye

In Conversation with Erin Kaye

About the Author

Other Books by Erin Kaye

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‘Nearly there, Oli!’ said Louise McNeill brightly to her three-year-old son, Oliver James.

Somewhere in the bowels of the ferry the engine growled and a shudder ran through the ship. Louise put her hand on her belly and her stomach lurched – though not with nausea. She’d spent her youth sailing on these waters – in the sheltered safety of Ballyfergus Lough or, sometimes, venturing out into the choppy waters of the Irish Sea – and not once had she been seasick. And she wasn’t pregnant. No, her nausea was caused by nerves. Louise took a deep breath, glanced at Oli and wondered – panicked suddenly – if she was doing the right thing by coming home.

Oli, restless, banged the fleshy pads of his palms against the sloping window, leaving smudges on it. ‘Now, now,’ said Louise, fretting that he might pick up germs from the glass. Instinctively, she reached out and caught one of his hands in her own. Oli’s olive skin tone came from his father’s side – it certainly hadn’t been inherited from the pale, Celtic-skinned and fair-haired McNeills. She touched a dimple on the back of his hand with her thumb – he was losing his baby fat rapidly, moving on to another stage of development.

Oli was a constant source of fascination to Louise – every new word was an achievement, every task accomplished a source of wonder. Each step along the long, slow road to independence seemed like a miracle. And it was a miracle – rather he was a miracle. Her baby. Hers alone. The child she had thought she would never have. Love and pride swelled in equal measure, threatening to choke her.

‘Are we nearly there yet?’ said Oli, in the high-pitched monotone common among children of his age. Louise found listening to other people’s children grating, but never Oli. He let out a long sigh, having long ago lost interest in the view of the calm, glittering sea, pale blue sky and swooping gulls. Louise put her arm around his waist where he stood on the blue leatherette bench beside her. She pressed her face into the small of his back and inhaled, knowing that if they were ever separated she could recognise him by smell alone.

The boat swung slowly round on its axis and hot July sunshine flooded through the glass. She squinted as the land mass of East Antrim, and the town of Ballyfergus, came slowly into view.

The town was just as Louise had remembered it. The shoreline was dominated by the big working port with its hulking cranes and drab, pre-fabricated buildings. A docked P&O ferry discharged its cargo, an endless stream of lollipop-coloured container lorries, onto the shimmering black asphalt of the quay. Further inland, arcs of slate-roofed white houses, none more than two storeys high, inched up the hills like cake mixture on the side of a bowl. And beyond that the gentle rounded green hills.

‘Look,’ she said and pointed through the window. ‘That’s Ballyfergus. Where Nana and Papa live. That’s where we’re going to live too.’ The idea of this, of bringing Oli home to his grandparents, to be amongst his own, filled her with pleasure. And the feeling of doing something right by her child momentarily displaced the gnawing doubt that she had failed him.

‘Where? Where are we going to live?’ persisted the child. His dark brows came together in a frown and he glared mistrustfully at the lush green hills overlooking Ballyfergus Lough, oblivious, it seemed, to the breathtaking beauty surrounding them.

‘There,’ said Louise pointing at the town, which had served as a port and gateway to the rest of the province for over one thousand years. She remembered that Oli had last visited when he was two and would not recall the trip. ‘See those houses there. Not up on the hill. Down there.’ She pointed at the sprawling cluster of grey and brown buildings on the flat plain. ‘They look really tiny, don’t they?’