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  Praise for Rachael Johns

  ‘If you like your chick-lit with a dash of intelligent social commentary, Just One Wish is the perfect summer read. Rachael Johns’s latest novel is sparklingly funny, quirky and totally of this moment.’ —Herald Sun

  ‘Johns knows how to weave the experiences of different generations of women together, with nuance and sensitivity, understanding how competing contexts shape women’s choices … Johns has a unmistakable talent for storytelling, while throwing a compelling romance in to hook us even further. Exploring themes like motherhood, the roles of women, and lost love, Just One Wish will make you look at the women in your own life and wonder what stories they haven’t told.’ —Mamamia

  ‘Johns draws readers in with her richly complex characters.’ —The Daily Telegraph on Just One Wish

  ‘Polished writing, and great dialogue drive this story forward. The perfectly structured plot holds plenty of surprises, but it’s the beautifully crafted characters that are the glue in this wonderful novel. I adored all three women, but especially Alice. There are also a whole cast of colourful, glorious minor characters, and an unusual family structure that is a delight to read … Utterly delightful … and predictably great.’ —Better Reading on Just One Wish

  ‘Just One Wish is a passionate and powerful family saga. It is a book that is going to have its readers talking about it … Whether you are a fan of Rachael’s or a debut reader of hers then you are going to enjoy this book.’—Book in One Hand Coffee in Another

  ‘Rachael Johns once again provides her readers with a fabulous contemporary family drama through the life experiences and choices of three generations of women … Just One Wish is most certainly a realistic portrayal of the complexity of modern day families that is sure to resonate with many readers.’ —Great Reads and Tea Leaves

  ‘Just One Wish is a fabulous novel of family love, sorrow, secrets, betrayal and heartbreak.’ —Beauty and Lace

  ‘The themes of infertility and pregnancy loss are movingly interwoven into a multifaceted story … [Rachael Johns] writes wisely and naively, hopefully and cynically, and there’s a character for everyone to identify with in Lost Without You. A gorgeously moving read.’ —Mamamia

  ‘Heart-warming and compassionate … Any book lover interested in life’s emotional complexities and in the events that define and alter us, will be engrossed in Lost Without You.’ —Better Reading

  ‘A delightful glimpse into the life of families and friends who come together in the most unexpected ways.’ —Starts at 60 on Lost Without You

  ‘Full of heartache and joy with a twist that keeps the pages turning … The Greatest Gift will appeal to fans of Jojo Moyes and Monica McInerney.’ —Australian Books + Publishing

  ‘I really have no idea where to start because this book was an amazing gift … Once again Johns has written a story that will appeal to different types of readers and it is clear that her talent is becoming more finely honed with every release.’ —Beauty and Lace on The Greatest Gift

  ‘Heartbreaking and heartwarming in equal parts, Rachael Johns’ The Greatest Gift takes readers on a rollercoaster ride of emotions. My advice? Make sure you have tissues handy!’ —Lisa Ireland, author of The Shape of Us

  ‘Rachael Johns has done it again, writing a book that you want to devour in one sitting, and then turn back to the first page to savour it all over again. I loved the characters of Harper and Jasper; their stories made me laugh and cry, and ache and cheer and ultimately reflect on all the many facets of that extraordinary journey called motherhood.’ —Natasha Lester, author of A Kiss From Mr Fitzgerald, on The Greatest Gift

  ‘A beautiful story of love and loss, heartbreak and hope—this is Rachael Johns at her very finest. With achingly endearing characters and a storyline that packs a punch, The Greatest Gift will make your heart swell as you reach for the tissues and leave you smiling when you turn the final pages. Told with warmth, empathy and wisdom, it’s a book that will appeal to everyone who has laid plans for their life and discovered that life is something that can’t be controlled and that even if you think you have it all worked out, you never know what’s around the corner. My favourite Rachael Johns by a country mile.’ —Tess Woods, author of Love at First Flight

  ‘The bond between Flick, Neve, and Emma blossomed as their sons grew up, but even best friends keep secrets from one another … Fans of emotional, issue driven women’s fiction will welcome Johns’ US women’s fiction debut.’ —Booklist on The Art of Keeping Secrets

  ‘… a compelling and poignant story of dark secrets and turbulent relationships … I fell completely in love with the well-drawn characters of Flick, Emma and Neve. They were funny and flawed and filled with the kind of raw vulnerability that makes your heart ache for them.’ —Nicola Moriarty, bestselling author of The Fifth Letter, on The Art of Keeping Secrets

  ‘Written with compassion and real insight, The Art of Keeping Secrets peeks inside the lives of three ordinary women and the surprising secrets they live with. Utterly absorbing and wonderfully written, Johns explores what secrets can do to a relationship, and pulls apart the notion that some secrets are best kept. It is that gripping novel that, once started, will not allow you to do anything else until the final secret has been revealed.’ —Sally Hepworth, bestselling author of The Secrets of Midwives

  ‘A fascinating and deeply moving tale of friendship, family and of course—secrets. These characters will latch onto your heart and refuse to let it go.’ —USA Today bestselling author Kelly Rimmer on The Art of Keeping Secrets

  ‘Rachael Johns writes with warmth and heart, her easy, fluent style revealing an emotional intelligence and firm embrace of the things in life that matter, like female friendship.’ —The Age on Lost Without You

  RACHAEL JOHNS is an English teacher by trade, a mum 24/7, a Diet Coke addict, a cat lover and chronic arachnophobe. She is also the bestselling, ABIA-winning author of The Patterson Girls and a number of other romance and women’s fiction books including The Art of Keeping Secrets, The Greatest Gift, Lost Without You, Just One Wish and the recent bestseller Something to Talk About. Rachael rarely sleeps, never irons and loves nothing more than sitting in bed with her laptop and imagining her own stories. She is currently Australia’s leading writer of contemporary relationship stories around women’s issues, a genre she has coined ‘life-lit’.

  Rachael lives in the Swan Valley with her hyperactive husband, three mostly gorgeous heroes-in-training, two ravenous cats, a cantankerous bird and a very badly behaved dog.

  Rachael loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her website rachaeljohns.com. She is also on Facebook and Instagram.

  Also by Rachael Johns:

  The Patterson Girls

  The Art of Keeping Secrets

  The Greatest Gift

  Lost Without You

  Just One Wish

  The Rose Hill novels

  Talk of the Town

  Something to Talk About

  The Bunyip Bay novels

  Outback Dreams

  Outback Blaze

  Outback Ghost

  Outback Sisters

  The Hope Junction novels

  Jilted

  The Road to Hope

  Man Drought

  The Kissing Season (e-novella)

  The Next Season (e-novella)

  Secret Confessions Down and Dusty: Casey (e-novella)

  www.harlequinbooks.com.au

  This one’s for the boy who broke my heart at seventeen, which led

  me to start writing. It’s probably about time I thanked you!

  I married beneath me. All women do.

  —Nancy Astor

  Contents

  Praise

  Also by
Rachael Johns

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  1

  Perth

  It was seven o’clock in the morning and I was cutting oranges for Payton’s soccer game when Adrian casually asked if I’d heard of nest parenting.

  I paused and searched my memory. It sounded vaguely familiar—like I’d read about the concept online or heard it discussed in one of the many podcasts I listened to. Although I’m almost forty, I pride myself on my memory and, sure enough, I recalled there was a mum who had a kid in the year below at Saxon’s school who was nest parenting with her husband. Or rather ex-husband!

  ‘Yeah, what about it?’ I said, as I bent to get a large container from our Tupperware drawer.

  Adrian took a sip of his coffee, then, ‘I was thinking we should give it a try.’

  And that is the exact moment the bottom fell out of my world!

  2

  I had to have heard wrong or at least misunderstood. Or maybe Adrian had.

  How did he even know what nest parenting was? It wasn’t like he usually concerned himself with the day-to-day minutiae of our kids’ world, never mind other people’s. Adrian’s world revolved around his podiatry clinic and (currently) cycling.

  So, perhaps he thought nest parenting was something else—possibly something like leaving Saxon at home to look after Payton while we had a dirty weekend away down south. It had been a while since we’d had much ‘alone’ time, and while I didn’t really miss frequent sex, my husband was as red-blooded a male as they came. When we’d first got together, we’d had sex every day—sometimes two or three times—but that was over twenty years ago when we were young and childfree, before life and responsibility got in our way. And, from the way my other mum friends talked, our ritual bonk on Saturday night was quite normal.

  But before I had the chance to ask him what exactly he was talking about, Payton skipped into the kitchen, proudly wearing her soccer uniform, her socks pulled up to her knees, her long, golden brown hair pulled back in a high ponytail and her usual bright smile lighting her face.

  ‘You guys ready to go?’ she asked, thankfully oblivious to the dark cloud that had descended upon the room. ‘I don’t want to miss pre-game training. I know summer soccer is only supposed to be for fun, but coach says if we work on our team communication and win this game, we have a real chance of getting in the finals this year.’

  ‘Course we are, kiddo.’ Adrian dumped his mug in the sink and reached out to ruffle her hair. She ducked just in time so as not to spoil her look. She may only be ten and what some of my friends called a tomboy, but she cared immensely about her appearance. Almost as much as she cared about her juggle record.

  ‘Mum?’ Payton whined. ‘What are you doing?’

  I blinked, realising that I was frozen, still semi-bent over the Tupperware drawer, my hand tightly gripping the container. Straightening fast, I said, ‘Just organising the oranges,’ but my voice didn’t sound like mine.

  My daughter rolled her eyes and gave me a look that only teenage girls should give their mothers. Payton was definitely ten going on nineteen.

  As she and Adrian started out of the kitchen towards the front door, my hands shook and my eyes prickled as I placed the oranges into the container and shut the lid. What if my husband did know what he was talking about? Was this his less-than-subtle way of telling me he wanted a divorce?

  Impossible. I forced the thought out of my head as I grabbed the container off the kitchen counter and followed after them, pausing briefly in the hallway to check on Saxon. I opened his bedroom door as quietly as possible.

  ‘Mum?’ came his sleep-soaked voice from the bed where our dog Charlie was slumbering beside him. I had an urge to curl up with them and slide my fingers through the dog’s comforting black fur.

  ‘Hey honey, we’re off to Payton’s game. There’s some pancakes in the microwave—’ pancakes I’d made before Adrian’s bombshell, ‘—for breakfast.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he mumbled as he pulled his doona back over his head. ‘Love you.’

  ‘I love you too.’

  Despite the quake in my heart, I smiled as a rush of love for my son filled my whole being. Sax had only started sleeping in over the last couple of months. Before that he was an early riser like Adrian and Payton, but he’d also shot up recently so obviously needed his sleep. Although at almost fifteen he was smack bang in the middle of his teens, we hadn’t had the drama that many of my friends had with their adolescent boys. Sure, he had the occasional morning grump and sometimes talked back, but he worked hard at school and I never had to nag him about practising his guitar.

  The horn beeping in our driveway jolted me from my thoughts and snapped me back to reality. With a deep sigh, I retreated from the safety of my son’s room and headed out to the car.

  ‘What took you so long?’ Payton asked from the back seat where she was doing some kind of skill work with her bright pink soccer ball. I didn’t have the energy to tell her not to. Adrian was driving; if he found it distracting, he could reprimand her. Why did I always have to be the bad cop?

  ‘I was just saying goodbye to Saxon.’ I snapped my seatbelt in place and sank back into the passenger seat.

  ‘Is he going to music practice this arvo?’ Adrian asked as he reversed my wagon out of our driveway. His second-hand sports car wasn’t practical when we travelled as a family.

  ‘I don’t know.’ My tone was terse. Saxon and his band usually hung out every Sunday afternoon—I didn’t see why today would be any different—but I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

  Adrian nodded and turned his attention to the road, while Payton talked about who knows what. Probably something to do with the imminent game or soccer in general. Usually her incessant chatter drove me mad, but today I was grateful for it. It meant Adrian didn’t try to make any further conversation and I didn’t blurt out the question that was on repeat in my head while our daughter was in our presence.

  Do you want to leave me?

  I racked my mind for signs that should have alerted me to something like this, but nothing seemed to have changed between us in the last few months. Sure, life had been hectic—with the kids and the clinic—but that wasn’t exactly new, and I couldn’t pinpoint anything specific. Finally, we arrived at the oval and I couldn’t escape the car fast enough.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ Adrian asked, nodding towards the coffee van parked nearby. Our daughter had alr
eady shot off towards the pitch where her teammates were gathering, their parents setting up folding chairs and no doubt making small talk about their postgame plans.

  ‘No, thank you.’ I couldn’t bring myself to accept anything from him right now. ‘You can tell me what the hell is going on instead. What exactly do you mean when you say we should give nest parenting a try? Do you even know what it is? Is this some kind of joke?’

  ‘Ash,’ Adrian said in the tone he used whenever he thought I was being unreasonable. ‘This probably isn’t the place to have this conversation.’

  I glared at him. ‘You were the one who dropped it on me in the kitchen five minutes before we were due to go out. Just tell me one thing, what do you think nest parenting is?’

  I saw his Adam’s apple slowly slide up and down before he said, ‘It’s when a couple separates and instead of moving the kids back and forth between their new places, they stay in the family home and the parents take turns living there with them.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ My hand rushed to my chest and my legs wobbled. It was a lovely summer morning, but ice flooded through me. ‘You want us to separate?’

  Before he could reply, the parents of one of Payton’s teammates chorused, ‘Morning Adrian, morning Ashling.’

  Adrian turned and smiled. ‘Hey Tonia, hey Manish.’ But I was frozen.

  ‘Lovely morning for it, isn’t it?’ Manish replied as they both came up beside us.

  Somehow, I managed to paste a smile on my face and blink back my tears. ‘Just peachy,’ I said, before giving Tonia a hug.

  The four of us walked to join the other parents on the sidelines and Adrian set up our chairs, as if everything was normal. Payton and her team did vigorous warm-up exercises, the other parents’ conversation buzzed around me, and then the ref blew the whistle to start the game as if this was just another Sunday morning soccer game.

  But nothing was normal anymore. Everything had changed.

  Adrian wanted us to separate, which was one tiny step from divorce.

  My chest tingled, my heart palpitating so fast I thought I was in danger of cardiac arrest. It was like I’d woken up from my worst nightmare only to discover it was real. There was not enough oxygen in the fresh morning air to fill my lungs.