The Map of Us: The most uplifting and unmissable feel good romance of 2018!

gloves (#litres_trial_promo)

resilient (#litres_trial_promo)

always (#litres_trial_promo)

5 things that changed (#litres_trial_promo)

tie (#litres_trial_promo)

the Matilda Eastleigh Compatibility Index (#litres_trial_promo)

maybe ten (#litres_trial_promo)

merit (#litres_trial_promo)

dark road (#litres_trial_promo)

nice (#litres_trial_promo)

imagine (#litres_trial_promo)

jazz (#litres_trial_promo)

waiting (#litres_trial_promo)

tap water (#litres_trial_promo)

extra (#litres_trial_promo)

next? (#litres_trial_promo)

lawnmower (#litres_trial_promo)

opening (#litres_trial_promo)

fault (#litres_trial_promo)

errands (#litres_trial_promo)

undone (#litres_trial_promo)

wanted (#litres_trial_promo)

the Matilda Eastleigh Compatibility Index (#litres_trial_promo)

folly (#litres_trial_promo)

ice cream (#litres_trial_promo)

couldn’t (#litres_trial_promo)

sketches (#litres_trial_promo)

wheelbarrow (#litres_trial_promo)

‘Rooks Wood to Coldbank Ruins’ (#litres_trial_promo)

3 miles (#litres_trial_promo)

full circle (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Numbers are a poor measure of love.

Millicent Fenwick

Mathematician 1970-

the beginning (#u5a2f7a50-ad2a-5d59-a683-960231241e58)

Violet North could not walk far. She had a pleasing enough disposition and an inquiring mind, but she had lost the use of her legs as a child. Polio was the cause. She was now twenty-six years of age and not expected to marry. She had other complications from her childhood illness that meant she seldom left her home without the help of company. As she was not often seen outside, there were precious few who she could call upon for such assistance.

Her family had lately abandoned her in a house with several staircases and a large garden in the hope that she would fall and die as quickly and conveniently as possible. They had told her as much when they left. She had been a burden to them for long enough. Violet could not walk far, but she was twenty-six and had her own house with a large garden and decided to be as inconvenient as possible. She did a grand job.

Violet North had many interests beyond the confines of the front parlour in the summer and the study in the winter. She sent off for maps and globes of the world and invited those she knew to send her postcards from the places they had been. It did not matter where. Places that she would never see fascinated her. She read travelogues and the biographies of great explorers. For her, climbing the stairs to the third floor was an exhausting expedition, fraught with unknown dangers.

A photograph of the nearest railway station, no more than three miles away, was a particular delight to her. She knew she would never see it in person. Even if she could somehow surmount all the difficulties of getting there alone, how could she buy a ticket? She had no destination. Violet knew no one she could visit by train.

To occupy her inquiring mind and her passion for places that would forever be a mystery to her, she invented an explorer and a place for them to explore and wrote about their adventures on a Royal Quiet Deluxe typewriter that she borrowed from a neighbour. It was turquoise blue, and the ‘e’ often stuck.

The place that she invented looked very much like love.

I have seen it.

Violet North was my grandmother. And yes, that is where the journey to this started. Right there.

2 years ago (#u5a2f7a50-ad2a-5d59-a683-960231241e58)

‘Where do you think we went wrong?’ Matt said.

‘10.37am, April 22nd,’ I said.