Chapter Twenty: Return of the Antagonist
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Wrong Turning
Chapter Twenty-Three: Conflict
Chapter Twenty-Four: Consequences
Chapter Twenty-Five: Departures and Reunions
Chapter Twenty-Six: Reliving the Dream
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Viewpoints
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Equanimity
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Regrouping
Chapter Thirty: The Lonely Hearts Literary Society
Chapter Thirty-One: External Conflict
Chapter Thirty-Three: The Dream Realised
Chapter Thirty-Four: The Dark Night of the Soul
Chapter Thirty-Six: Resurrection
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Settings
Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Destination
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Ideas for an Epilogue
How I thought my story ended …
After months on the road in her camper van, she was coming to her journey’s end, to the place where it had begun. In the distance the city sparkled. Marco drove through the outskirts of north London and the leafy suburban streets, into Highgate Village with its Victorian and Georgian houses, and down Highgate West Hill where he bumped up the kerb and parked up next to a red-bricked mansion block with a green wooden gate flanked by dark hedges. The engine cooled and ticked.
‘This is it.’ Marco took the key out of the ignition and kissed her, his mouth warm on hers. ‘We’re home, Lauren,’ he said softly, watching her, his eyes dark with love.
The word took her breath away. She looked up at the building with its warm, lighted windows.
She thought back to the moment everything had changed. The moment he’d asked her to go back with him.
‘I hoped you might be ready to come home now,’ he’d said, squeezing her hand. ‘Come home with me.’
‘Home?’ For a moment she’d felt as if she was stepping on quicksand; that off-balance terror and the thrill of excitement.
‘Lauren, I love your independence. You’re the most self-contained woman I’ve ever met. You and me, we’re two of a kind, don’t you think? You can have all the freedom you need and I’ll be away some of the time anyway. It will be like it is now except I won’t have to rely on a tracker to find you.’
‘That’s crazy!’ she’d said. Put together all the time they’d known each other and it amounted to a few weeks at the most.
‘I know,’ he’d said cheerfully, taking it as a compliment.
And now, for the first time, they weren’t parting with promises to keep in touch, promises that faded as time passed. Home was togetherness and warmth and permanence and, after nine months of travelling, the word was like a forgotten dream and she was filled with sudden happiness.
Their adventure wasn’t over.
It was just about to begin.
