The Shape of Your Heart: A BRAND NEW completely heartbreaking new novel from Debbie Howells for 2023


 
 
 
 
 THE SHAPE OF YOUR HEART
 
 
 
 DEBBIE HOWELLS
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 For my family
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 When the world says ‘give up’, hope whispers, ‘try it one more time’.
 UNKNOWN
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CONTENTS
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 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
 
 
 
 
 Acknowledgments
 
 
 More from Debbie Howells
 
 
 About the Author
 
 
 About Boldwood Books
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1
 
 
 
 
 
 Life can be all kinds of wonderful. It can also be all kinds of heartbreak – a subject in which my sisters are well versed. There’s Alice, the eldest, who as a cardiologist fixes the physical manifestations of malfunctioning hearts. Then there’s Sasha, a psychologist, an expert in the emotional rise and fall that comes with loving and losing someone. Rita, meanwhile, actually lectures at Bristol uni on the philosophy of love, from the ancient Greeks to the present day.
 That leaves me, the youngest, by far the lowest achieving, though arguably the happiest of the four of us, because for all their expertise and knowledge of the workings of the heart, none of them have been in love – while for the last five years of my life, I’ve lived with Liam – and this weekend, we’re getting married.
 ‘You are sure about this, aren’t you?’ Sasha looked doubtful when I told her. ‘You’re both so young.’
 ‘And un-sorted, is what you’re trying to say.’ I nudged her elbow in a little-sisterly way. ‘But I’m not like you, Sash. And I am so sure about this. We’re happy as we are – and one day, I’ll get around to doing whatever it is I’m supposed to do with my life. Liam and I… you know how it is. It’s like we’re meant to be together.’
 It was how it had felt, almost from the first day we met, a cold, crisp Friday in January, one on which, while my sisters were busy saving lives, I had a day off from the indie bookshop where I worked, up a narrow street in the heart of Truro. As far as I was concerned, it was a perfect day, a bracing wind blowing off the Atlantic, the spray whipped up, the waves rolling in, one after another, uncurling themselves on to the shore.
 I’d always loved Cornwall’s beaches, particularly this one isolated little cove. There was the exhilaration of the walk to get here, the climb down rocks on to velvety sand; the scouring of the high-water mark for shards of sea glass, tiny shells, pale driftwood, mermaids’ purses, fragments of slate carved from the cliffs. Then alone on the pristine sand, I’d create pictures with what I’d found; impermanent pieces of art lasting the few hours until the incoming tide claimed them back.
 But on this particular Friday, as I reached the rock where I usually sat, someone else had got there first. There on the sand was a perfect miniature of a tree, complete with a slate stem, sea glass leaves, strands of seaweed arranged into an elaborate root system.
 I couldn’t stop staring at it. It wasn’t just that I’d never known anyone else to make collages the way I did, let alone in exactly the same place; this was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
 ‘I haven’t quite finished.’
 I turned in the direction of the voice, meeting eyes that were the same blue as the ocean in summer, a face that looked slightly wary. In a thick sweater and jeans, a scarf wound around his neck, he was dressed for the elements.
 ‘It’s very good.’
 ‘I hope it will be.’ Crouching down, he added some more pieces of sea glass.
 ‘You can have these, if you like.’ Opening my cupped hands, I held out the treasures I’d collected.
 Turning to me, his eyes were quizzical.
 ‘I was about to do the same – not a tree, though. Mine tend to be more abstract. The thing is…’ I hesitated. ‘I’ve never met anyone else who makes sea pictures.’
 His smile was warm, reached the corners of his eyes. ‘Because who would spend all this time, when in a few hours from now, every trace of them will be gone for ever.’
 I was nodding. ‘But I kind of like that. Human beings aren’t exactly subtle, are they? I mean, we decimate the natural world at the drop of a hat. But these pictures… It’s like leaving a sign that we were here for a while.’ I shrugged. ‘I’m quite glad we haven’t learned to stop the rising tide – at least, not yet.’ I liked to be reminded that nature was more powerful than any of us.
 We sat on the beach together for hours that first day. Liam, as I found out his name was,