id="u7700dabd-567a-572a-b774-3fdc1af709a3">
JEMMA FORTE grew up wanting to write for Cosmopolitan magazine, be a famous actress or work in a shoe shop (she loved the foot-measuring device in Clarks). Her parents didn’t want her to go to stage school because, according to them, she was ‘precocious enough already’. However, they actively encouraged her obsession with reading and writing and she wrote her first book, ‘Mizzy the Germ’, when she was eight. She sent it to a publisher (unwittingly backing up the whole precocious theory) and was dismayed when for some reason they didn’t want it.
Years later, due to The Kids from Fame (and she blames them entirely), her desire to perform hadn’t abated. Hundreds of letters, show-reels and auditions later she finally became a Disney Channel presenter in 1998. After Disney, Jemma went on to present shows for ITV, BBC1, BBC2 and C4 and, when not busy writing, can still be found talking rubbish on telly to this day. If You’re Not the One is Jemma’s third novel. She lives in London with her children, Lily and Freddie.
If You’re Not the One
Jemma Forte
For my nephew. Welcome to the world.
Writing a book is a solitary activity. Getting it on the shelves, however, is a hugely collaborative effort, so I have a lot of people to thank. Enormous thanks must go to my publishers, MIRA. I am so happy to be with you and your enthusiasm and passion is refreshing and wonderful. In particular, many thanks must go to my brilliant editor, Sally Williamson, and fantastic agent, Madeleine Milburn. Like David Seaman, you are both a pair of ‘safe hands’. Unlike David Seaman, you’re pretty and don’t have big moustaches. Thanks must also go to Claudia Webb.
Writing this book has coincided with a pretty turbulent period in my life. Thanks to my family for seeing me through it. There are times when that ‘blood is thicker than water’ business really rings true and times when frankly your family are the only people who will put up with you. Of course, they don’t have much choice. You’re related, you’re not going anywhere and there’s no getting out of seeing you over Christmas. So thank you for steering me through to the other side and not drowning me along the way. I don’t know what I would have done without you all and will never forget your kindness, patience and support. Dad, Sally, Mum, Mauro, Jessica, Isabel, Paddy, Jim, Harry and Imogen, you are the best bunch of freaks known to man and I love you all to bits. As ever, thank you also to those of you who read an early draft, gave me notes and encouraged me to carry on.
Ooh, after that rather earnest bit I find myself suddenly overcome by a strong desire to dilute it by writing ‘big shout-out’, like I’m on the radio—I might go with it…Big shout-out to Lily and Freddie, the two best kids in the world. You’re both spectacular little monkeys and I look forward to embarrassing you for many more years to come. I know only too well how lucky I am to have children who people actually like inviting round for tea. Thank you for being so gorgeous and for being kind. Kind is good.
My friends. What a bunch! You’re all fabulous. I’d like to mention the usual suspects of course, my life-long friends Becky Rolfe, Alessia Small and Stroma Inglis. And very special thanks must also go to Fiona Wright, Nigel Mitchell, Charlotte Woodward, Laura Slader and Carmel Allen for various reasons, which mainly involve them being incredible, caring and/or helpful friends in one way or another.
As for Sarah Jane Wright, I don’t even know where to start, so we’re just going to have to go out for cocktails and take it from there. I love you loads and don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.
Now, last, but definitely not least, to Ross. Not a day goes by when I don’t think, ‘God, you’re tall.’ Then, after that, I ponder on how lucky I am to have you in my life and to have your friendship. You’re amazing, a one-off, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your input on this book (you were right about the ending, of course you were) and everything else you do for me, including making me laugh, a lot. I could go on, but know how much you hate compliments and how unbelievably bad you are at taking them, so instead I’ll just say, ‘Sofa’ and hope that that says it all.
Table of Contents