The Reading Group
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Synopsis
Meet the Reading Group: Grace, Anne-Marie, Kate, Jojo and Serena. No topic is off-limits: books, family, love and loss… and don't forget the glass of red! Each month they meet in Serena's beautiful cliff-top cottage to discuss a good book and their lives, which are sometimes stranger than fiction! Between new loves and old flames, cheating husbands and wayward children, there's always a surprise around the corner...
Release date: November 2, 2017
Publisher: Quercus Publishing
Print pages: 528
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The Reading Group
Della Parker
Dedication
For Gran, who taught me to read
Contents
Prologue
January
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
February
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
March
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
April
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
Summer
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Prologue
Books had saved her life when she was a child. Was that too dramatic? No, she didn’t think it was. Reading had taken her away from the pain of being born into a family that didn’t understand her. A family into which she had never truly fitted.
That’s why she had started the Reading Group. She had wondered for a while if the other women felt the same way. Maybe not, although she did know that all of them – Jojo, Grace, Kate and even little Anne Marie – loved the monthly escape to her house on the cliffs. It was a time out of time. Somewhere they could leave the stresses of their daily lives behind and just be themselves for a couple of hours.
When she was a child reading had transported her into worlds where anything was possible. Worlds where the baddies always got their comeuppance. Worlds where there were always happy endings . . . even if they did sometimes take a while.
Serena stood in her orangery and looked out at the sunset that was beginning to pink the sky. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, she thought, if real life were a little bit more like fiction?
She pressed her fingers to her forehead and smiled at her foolishness.
One could always hope, she thought.
One could always dream.
Chapter 1
Anne Marie was sweeping the bathroom floor of Flat 10, The Moorings when a text came through on her phone, which was in the pocket of her overalls. She didn’t bother checking it because the only messages she’d had lately had been from her service provider updating her on their latest offers or telling her that she could now check her bill online (so good of you to think of me so often, O2. Thank you very much!).
For a moment she allowed herself to fantasize that the text was from a mysterious stranger asking her out to dinner. He wouldn’t actually be asking her out – obviously: he wouldn’t know who she was at that stage. It would be a misdial. But by the time they had chatted for a while and had realized they were actually soulmates, well, by then they really would be going out for dinner.
Where would they go? Calypso’s, probably. It was the classiest restaurant that Little Sanderton had to offer. Although occasionally she went to Ocean Views with one of the girls from the Reading Group. That might even be better. What could be more romantic than the ocean stretching out behind you while you tucked into a pint of prawns?
No, maybe not prawns: they had their tails on and could get messy. A prawn leg stuck in your teeth was not a good look either.
She blinked a few times. Where on earth had all that come from? She wasn’t even interested in dating. She was way too busy. A man would mess everything up. She needed a man like . . . she frowned, hunting for a suitable analogy . . . like she needed unreliable cleaners.
Sophie Smith, her youngest and prettiest member of staff, was supposed to be cleaning this flat, but she’d phoned in sick this morning so Anne Marie had been obliged to do it herself. Not that she’d had far to come. She lived in the same building. Four floors above, to be precise. She had the penthouse, thanks to Daddy. The Moorings had been his previous project.
To be honest, she could have got someone else to clean number ten, but she’d been curious. It was interesting seeing what other people did to what was basically the same footprint of rooms. This flat was a lot smaller, of course, than hers: only two bedrooms, and much lower spec – it had laminate for a start instead of proper wood floors, but it was still very interesting.
And it wasn’t such a bad thing to keep your hand in. Even if you were the boss. Never let it be said that she wasn’t prepared to pitch in and get her hands dirty – she could do humility with the best of them.
Her phone pinged with another text and Anne Marie paused. Not the phone company, then. They only ever sent one text at a time. It might actually be someone who wanted to speak to her. Hopefully not someone else phoning in sick.
It pinged again.
She hooked it out of her pocket and discovered that all three texts were from the same person: her long-time friend and confidante Manda Crippins.
The first was long and began: You are invited to the wedding of Jack Taylor and Manda Crippins on 28 January 2017, to be held at St Augustine’s Church, Stamford Green, Ashmore at 3.00 p.m.
Then it said ***incomplete text***
Flaming phone.
The rest of the invitation came through separately with a PS at the bottom: Sorry for text invite. Proper invite to follow. Cock-up at printer’s. Please reserve date.
Anne Marie raised her eyebrows. No wonder they’d texted: 28 January was only three weeks away. And it was the first she’d heard of any wedding – it was clearly last-minute.
The last text was a personal one to her, also from Manda: Darling, please come, it’s your fault we’re getting married. I’ll phone you later. Mwah, mwah.
Anne Marie smiled. Manda was right: it was all down to her. She’d introduced them, hadn’t she? So they’d met, fallen in love and were getting married inside six months. And she was responsible. She felt a little glow of pride.
Clearly she should be in the matchmaking game. Maybe she should organize a speed-dating event at Little Sanderton. That might be fun. A lot more fun than organizing a troupe of cleaners anyway. Daddy was always saying what a good organizer she was.
Less charitable people might call it meddling. People like her first – and, as it turned out, only – boss, but as Manda had pointed out when Anne Marie had been sacked, the woman was probably just jealous because Anne Marie was blonder, prettier and thinner than she was.
She wished she was thinner now. Not that she was actually fat, but the festive season had landed her with an extra half-stone she could have done without. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror that took up one wall of the luxury bathroom. The sunshine-yellow overalls didn’t help. They would have made anyone bigger than a size eight look enormous, especially when worn over jeans and a chunky jumper. Well, so what? It was cold today!
As for the huge logo, Clean Living, emblazoned across her breasts in shocking pink, it had probably been a bit OTT, even for her. She should have gone for a more stylish uniform when she’d set up the company, but there hadn’t been a lot of choice in the Corporate Clothing catalogue. And she’d liked the colours. Yellow was cheery, friendly and outgoing, just like her.
Anne Marie stopped looking at her reflection and thought about the man who owned this flat: Dominic Peterson, his name was. She’d met him only once, when he’d first contracted her company. He was a sales rep. For Jaguar, she thought. She’d spotted a whole pile of brochures on the bureau in his lounge when he’d been fetching his bank details to pay her. It was handy to know what your clients did for a living. Made it easier to strike up a conversation and, of course, check that they were solvent.
Yes, a speed-dating event in Little Sanderton would be just the thing. She could even invite Dominic! He was single. He deserved someone nice. His current – soon to be ex – girlfriend was a two-timing minx. Anne Marie knew this because just after she’d got there today she’d heard a message come through on the answerphone. It was the type of machine that plays the message aloud as it’s being recorded.
She’d been in the kitchen when the phone had rung, but she’d dashed through to the lounge in case it was important. She’d been just in time to hear a woman’s voice: ‘Dominic, I’m sorry, it’s over. I’ve met someone else. Bye.’
That had been it. Just like that. Anne Marie had been outraged on Dominic’s behalf. Dumping someone by answerphone message was seriously crappy. Worse than dumping them by text.
Never mind. She’d invite him to her speed-dating event where he could meet someone lovely.
She should probably finish cleaning his flat first.
Oh, it would be so nice to see Manda again. She hoped that Jack wasn’t going to drag her too far away from Little Sanderton once they were married. Not everyone wanted to live in a sleepy little coastal village . . . Just the floor-mopping to do now. She put some dance music on her iPod and turned up the volume. Getting fit and losing the half-stone she’d put on over the festive period were two of her New Year resolutions.
Another of her resolutions was to read some classic novels, which she hadn’t bothered with before because they were so tedious (apart from Far From the Madding Crowd, which they’d had to do for GCSE at school). But, thanks to a decision they’d made at Reading Group a couple of months ago, that resolution was already in hand too.
*
It was Reading Group tonight. They met on the first Thursday of the month. Anne Marie hummed as she got ready. She hoped January’s novel would be exciting. Preferably something that was on television, in case she was too busy to read it. This speed-dating event was going to take a bit of organizing, that was for sure.
It was Kate’s turn to pick this month’s novel. Kate was clever and sassy. Maybe she’d choose something amusing.
Anne Marie grabbed the keys to her Mazda as she dashed out of the door. Reading Group was great. Not because of the reading bit – she wasn’t a big reader – but because of the friendship, the female solidarity. They were a really solid gathering of women. It was like having a whole bunch of extra sisters. She only had one older sister, whom she hardly ever saw, and no brothers. Mum had died when she was tiny and Dad had never remarried.
Bless his cotton socks. She ought to go round and see him soon. He had a house on the cliffs. A great dark Gothic monster with about nine bedrooms and four bathrooms. Well, actually they were classrooms, not bedrooms – the place had once been a primary school. He’d bought it as an investment a few years ago and was living in it until he got planning permission to knock it down and build a block of flats.
It was one of the very few projects that wasn’t going well. He was a savvy property developer-cum-landlord. He owned quite a few places in Little Sanderton. It was down to him that she’d set up Clean Living. He bought the flats and let them. Her company cleaned them. In fact, it had been his idea that she start the company. He’d helped her set it up through Companies House and register it as a limited company and all the other boring stuff like that.
*
Anne Marie was the last to arrive at Reading Group. Everyone else was already in the snug, enjoying the warmth of the log-burner and a glass of red. Kate, who was closest to the door, handed her a glass. ‘Hello, lovely. We’re on mulled wine as it’s still kind of the festive season. How are you?’
Anne Marie breathed in the scents of spice and cinnamon. She felt the warmth of the room and the camaraderie of her friends, and she beamed. ‘All the better for seeing you guys. And I’m definitely up for extending the festive season. Do you think we can get away with it till the end of January?’
‘Well, at least until the end of tonight, angel.’ That was Jojo. She held out a plate of mince pies.
Anne Marie took two. They were only tiny, after all, with little pastry stars on them, and was that edible glitter? Yum. Besides, if they were extending the festive season then technically the New Year hadn’t started yet. So the diet could begin tomorrow.
There was a lot to catch up on.
Grace told them that Harry, her little boy who had been sick with cancer, was doing really well. ‘No more scares. He’s still in remission,’ she said.
‘And on a somewhat more mundane note, Anton’s finally agreed we can get a new kitchen,’ Kate said. ‘We’re going to look at units in the January sales. We might even get a breakfast bar.’
‘And I’m going to start a new business,’ Anne Marie announced to the group. ‘I’m going into matchmaking, starting with speed-dating events in Little Sanderton.’
Her news did not bring quite the roars of approval she was hoping for. In fact, she thought she saw Serena and Grace exchange a quick look of horror. ‘There are plenty of singles in Little Sanderton,’ she added.
‘Yes, but most of them are over eighty,’ Jojo said, with a frown.
‘Over-eighties deserve a love life too,’ Anne Marie said, waving a hand. ‘Maybe I’ll do a knitting speed-dating evening for them.’
Serena seemed to be choking on her mince pie. Anne Marie paused while Grace patted Serena on the back and refilled her glass. Then she went on, ‘I know I did get it wrong with that couple down the road, but you have to admit, they did seem a perfect match . . . apart from the age difference, I mean. It was a shame it ended so badly.’
‘And there was the woman on the checkout at Waitrose,’ Serena pointed out. She seemed to have recovered from her coughing fit. ‘The one you tried to set up with a customer – remember?’
‘Well, yes, but how was I to know the guy was a shoplifter? That wasn’t really my fault. I have had a major success, though,’ she went on blithely, and told them about Manda and Jack’s wedding.
‘Well, I think it’s . . . um . . . a lovely idea,’ Grace said diplomatically. ‘Anyway, a commercial enterprise is different from ad-hoc matchmaking, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so,’ Serena said, taking another sip of wine. ‘Now, moving swiftly on to the main business of the evening: our classic novel. Over to you, Kate. What are we reading this month?’
Kate had gone a little pink, Anne Marie noticed. Maybe they were reading something saucy? She clapped her hands in expectation.
Kate was shuffling around in her bag. ‘I can’t seem to – er – find it,’ she said. ‘How odd.’
Jojo bent down and hooked out a book that had been accidentally kicked half under the chesterfield. ‘Looks like you’d dropped it, angel. Here we are.’ She handed it back to Kate with a smile.
‘Ah, thank you.’ Kate didn’t look too happy, but she held it up to the group. ‘We’re going to read Jane Austen’s Emma,’ she said. ‘I hope you like it. Now, I must just nip to the loo.’
‘That’s one of her later ones, isn’t it?’ Jojo said. ‘What’s it about?’ Kate had already fled, so Jojo held up the book and read out the blurb on the back. ‘Emma Woodhouse is the character Austen was sure no one would like. She delights in meddling in the romantic lives of others . . .’ She tailed off.
Anne Marie frowned. Why was everyone looking so uncomfortable? She shook her head. It sounded like a really fun book to her.
Chapter 2
When Anne Marie rang her father’s doorbell the next day there was no answer. She let herself in through the front door, and was greeted by the smell of dogs – and then by an actual dog. Digby, Dad’s wet springer spaniel, had clearly been swimming.
He wagged ecstatically as she bent to stroke him, flicking water everywhere.
‘Where is he, then?’ Anne Marie asked Digby, though she knew exactly where he’d be – in his office at the back of the house. She was pretty sure he slept in there sometimes, workaholic that he was.
‘Dad!’ she called, as she walked along the corridors of parquet flooring. On either side, doors opened into classrooms, still full of the old desks and school chairs, all gathering dust.
She’d offered to get a team in to clean the place, but her father wouldn’t hear of it. ‘What’s the point when most of the rooms are shut up?’ he’d said, and she’d been unable to argue with that.
Knowing Dad, letting the place fall down around his ears was probably also a tactic – he was working on the assumption that the planning department would decide they’d rather have a block of nice new flats than a derelict eyesore on the outskirts of town.
She tapped on the glass upper pane of the office door. It still had the old sign in situ. Headmaster. She smiled. She had a feeling Dad rather liked the idea of being Headmaster, even if he did only have her to boss around.
‘Hello, Princess.’ He turned from where he had been hunched over a computer screen, tapping away into a spreadsheet. ‘What’s happening? I wasn’t expecting to see you today.’
She bent and kissed his bristly cheek. ‘What are you doing? Counting your money?’
‘Something like that. Is it coffee time?’ He got up stiffly and rubbed his arm. ‘I’ve got tennis elbow.’
‘You don’t play tennis.’
‘From using the mouse.’
‘It’s probably RSI. Shall I book you an appointment with Thomas?’
‘I’m ahead of you. He’s due any minute.’ He peered at the clock on the wall, which had stopped. ‘Well, I think he is. What time actually is it?’
‘Ten to ten.’ She sighed. ‘I’d better leave you in peace, then.’
‘Nonsense, you can make us a coffee. Thomas will be pleased to see you. He always asks after you.’
‘Are you matchmaking, Daddy?’ She smiled at him.
‘Hardly!’
‘Actually, it’s matchmaking I want to talk to you about, as it happens. Have you got five minutes?’
‘Darling, I’ve got all the time in the world to talk to you. Especially if it involves your love life.’
Anne Marie winced. Oops, she’d probably given him the wrong impression.
‘I don’t have a love life and I don’t want one, as you very well know,’ she said, as she carried a cafetiere of coffee and a plate of ginger nuts into the assembly hall, which was what currently passed for a lounge.
‘So you keep saying. It’s not normal, you know – a gorgeous young thing like you. I was out playing the field when I was your age.’
‘You were a boy,’ she pointed out.
‘Your sister was too.’ He slurped his coffee. ‘Playing the field, I mean. Not a boy.’ He winked.
‘Yes, and look where it got her. Four children and she’s only just turned thirty.’
‘It’s nice having children when you’re young.’ Having a conversation with her father was like playing table tennis. He batted each sentence back before she’d had a chance to formulate the next.
‘Thomas Hanson is a world authority on blood-spatter, he told me, last time I saw him,’ her dad remarked.
That was a bit random, even for him. ‘I’m sorry? What?’ Anne Marie raised her eyebrows.
‘He’s versatile, is what I’m saying. He’s clever. Educated. Solvent. Tall too. You could do a lot worse.’
‘You forgot “know-it-all”,’ she said, suddenly remembering she was supposed to be on a diet and feeding the remaining half ginger nut to an enthusiastic Digby. ‘The trouble with Thomas Hanson is that he’s got an opinion on absolutely everything. No wonder you get on so well.’
She’d said that rather too loudly in view of the fact that approximately ten seconds later Thomas appeared at the door. ‘Good morning. Sorry to barge in, but the bell doesn’t seem to work. I did try.’
He was smiling equably. Had he heard what she’d said?
She offered him a ginger nut.
He refused it. ‘No can do. New Year resolution. Cut down on sugar.’ He patted his perfectly flat stomach and added, ‘How’s the toilet cleaning going?’
Ouch. She decided not to rise. ‘Actually, I’m branching out,’ she said. ‘That’s what I was saying earlier, Daddy. I’m going into the matchmaking arena, running speed-dating events in the village.’
Her father nodded.
Thomas narrowed his eyes.
She ignored him. ‘I shall hire the village hall, advertise in the local press, charge people to come along.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘What do you think? We’ve never had anything like that in Little Sanderton before, and I do have a track record.’
‘You do?’ Thomas said, with irritating scepticism.
‘I do. Yes.’ She popped another ginger nut into her mouth, enjoying its melting sweetness on her tongue, and told them about Manda and Jack. ‘They met at my twenty-first birthday party. On the boat – do you remember, Daddy?’
‘How could I forget? Manda fell overboard, didn’t she, and Jack jumped in to rescue her?’
‘Well, he threw her the life buoy, anyway.’
Her father shuddered. ‘Good job it was summer. So now they’re getting married, are they? Well, I guess that’s a happy ending. Well done, Princess.’
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘as you said, Daddy, all’s well that ends well. I’ve been invited to their wedding. I can take a plus one. Maybe you could come along. It’s at the end of January.’
‘Thank you, Princess, but I think it’d be better if you went with someone your own age. You busy, Thomas?’
‘My diary’s usually pretty full,’ Thomas said quickly. ‘Speaking of which, we’d better have a look at that elbow of yours, hadn’t we?’
Honestly, Anne Marie thought, as she caught up on her invoicing later that evening. Why did no one believe her when she said she wasn’t interested in having a relationship? Manda was just as bad. When they’d chatted on the phone earlier Manda had asked her if she’d fancied being bridesmaid, then spent ages telling her about the best man.
‘His name’s Todd and he works with Jack on the trains,’ she said. ‘It’s really well paid, that job. He’s just in the process of buying his own house in Poundbury – you know, the estate in Dorchester that Prince Charles built.’
‘Lovely,’ said Anne Marie. ‘But I’m not on the market for a train driver called Todd.’
There was a pause. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve met someone else!’
‘No,’ Anne Marie said. ‘I haven’t. But I’d love to be your bridesmaid. Do you mind if I bring my dad?’
‘Of course I don’t. Your dad’s pretty cool.’
She certainly wouldn’t be bringing Thomas Hanson – that was for sure. They had absolutely nothing in common. Every time she saw him he insulted her. The only reason she let him get away with it was because she’d known him for ever. He’d been a friend of the family for as long as he’d been an osteopath. He was superb, apparently. Thankfully she had never needed his services.
The thought of him touching her with those long-fingered hands was – oh . . . She shivered. No, definitely not.
*
The door buzzer sounded as Anne Marie was packing up for the day. It was Sophie, she saw on the entry-phone screen. She must have recovered from her sore stomach. Well, that was good. She let her into the block.
‘Hello, honey-bunny, you feeling better?’ She ushered her through to the kitchen.
Sophie nodded. ‘I’m fine now, thanks.’
‘You’re not coming to tell me you’ve had enough of cleaning for a living, are you?’
‘I’m not, no.’ Sophie blinked rapidly several times. ‘But you might decide you’ve had enough of me when you hear what I’ve done.’
‘I doubt that.’ Anne Marie looked at her properly. Her eyes were glittery and her face really quite pale. ‘You’re my best cleaner.’
‘I’ve broken my Henry,’ Sophie said, and burst into tears.
Anne Marie hugged her. She had no idea what she was talking about, but the poor girl was clearly distraught. For a few moments she let her sob and wished she knew what to say to make her feel better. ‘Who’s Henry?’ she ventured, when Sophie had finally stopped crying. ‘Is he your boyfriend?’
‘He’s my vacuum,’ Sophie said. ‘My really expensive vacuum you told me not to break. On pain of death.’
Gosh, she hadn’t really said that, had she? How tactless.
‘I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know how it happened. I think I must have sucked up something too big.’
‘Oh,’ Anne Marie said. ‘Is that all? I thought you were upset about something serious.’
‘That is serious, isn’t it?’ Sophie looked at her, wide-eyed. ‘They’re really expensive, you said.’
‘Yes, but it’s only money, isn’t it?’ Anne Marie felt very maternal and wise. ‘It’s replaceable. I can probably claim on my insurance. I thought someone had died or you’d split up with your boyfriend or something.’
‘What? You mean Gary?’ Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘No, I haven’t split up with him. He proposed the other day. He did it on my birthday. Got down on one knee and everything in McDonald’s.’
‘McDonald’s?’ Annie Marie gasped. ‘That’s not very romantic.’
‘No, I know, but we like McDonald’s. It’s where we met. He was on the griddle and I was waitressing. Before I got the job with you, I mean. Gary’s still there – he’s Head Chef so he gets us a discount.’ Sophie had brightened considerably now she knew she wasn’t in trouble.
‘Did you say yes?’ Anne Marie had a horrible feeling she already knew what was coming.
Sophie studied her blue-and-pink fingernails. ‘I said I’d let him know in a week. I don’t want him to think I’m a complete pushover.’
‘Good girl,’ Annie Marie said. ‘You’re far too young to go rushing into marriage. It’s a massive step.’
Sophie nodded uncertainly. ‘I was going to say yes, though,’ she said, screwing up her forehead. ‘Do you think I shouldn’t, then?’
Anne Marie settled her at the breakfast bar and opened a pack of extra special Belgian-chocolate cupcakes with edible glitter that she had left over from Christmas. Desperate times called for desperate measures. ‘Have I ever told you about my sister Julia?’
Sophie shook her head.
‘Julia got married when she was just a few months older than you are now. She was supposed to be going to Cambridge. She was offered a place and she turned it down. Can you believe that?’
Sophie’s eyes popped. ‘She turned it down because she wanted to get married?’
‘She turned it down because she was pregnant. How someone that brainy doesn’t have the sense to take proper precautions, I’ll never know.’
‘I’m on the pill,’ Sophie said promptly.
‘You’re clearly more intelligent than my sister.’ Anne Marie drummed her fingers on the breakfast bar. ‘Guess what happened next.’
‘She lost the baby?’ Sophie ventured.
‘No. She did not. She got married to this oik,’ that was a bit harsh – her brother-in-law was a doctor and quite a laugh – but she wanted to make her point, ‘and now they have four children and Julia’s only just turned thirty.’
‘I see.’ Sophie started on her second cupcake. ‘Is that bad?’
‘It’s not bad, exactly.’ She was going to have her work cut out here. ‘The point I’m trying to make is that you’re a bright girl. You’re doing a college course, aren’t you? The last thing you want is to throw it all away on a burger-tosser – I mean fryer.’
‘I see.’
‘Unless you really love him. Do you love him?’
‘I like him a lot.’ Sophie batted her eyelashes thoughtfully. ‘And we do get on well. He makes me laugh.’
‘Yes, but does he make your heart go into overdrive?’ Anne Marie asked. She couldn’t remember ever feeling that way about a man – but that was a standard indicator of love, wasn’t it? ‘Look, Sophie, if you’re not sure I think you should say no.’
‘Really?’ Sophie looked alarmed. She was a pretty little thing, blonde with brilliant-blue eyes – that were, at this moment, sparkly with tears. She was petite too, with a delicacy about her that put Anne Marie in mind of an elf. Sophie didn’t look at all chunky in the yellow Clean Living overalls. And now she was on her third cupcake. How did she do it?
‘You should definitely say no.’ She took hold of Sophie’s shoulders and gave her a gentle little shake. She’d just had a brainwave. Dominic Peterson – who lived in this very block! – was a far better proposition than some griddle chef, whose main asset was being able to get a discount on burgers! Dominic had a very nice home. And a well-paid job. Also, Anne Marie was sure she’d seen a Jag in the car park this morning – it was probably his. Although it might have been a company car, of course. Still, a temporary Jaguar was better than no Jaguar.
‘What sort of car has he got – this Gary?’
‘He hasn’t got one at all yet. He’s learning to drive in his dad’s Fiesta.’
That clinched it. ‘Tell him to sling his hook,’ Anne Marie said firmly. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’
Chapter 3
Matchmaking was harder than it sounded, Anne Marie thought the next day. It had seemed easy. All she had to do was arrange for Sophie to bump into Dominic Peterson and let Fate take its natural course.
There were two fatal flaws to this plan.
Number one was that Dominic was never in when he had his cleaning done. That was the whole point – he liked to be out of the way when it was taking place. Most of her clients were like that, although she did have the odd controlling one who liked
For Gran, who taught me to read
Contents
Prologue
January
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
February
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
March
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
April
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
Summer
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Prologue
Books had saved her life when she was a child. Was that too dramatic? No, she didn’t think it was. Reading had taken her away from the pain of being born into a family that didn’t understand her. A family into which she had never truly fitted.
That’s why she had started the Reading Group. She had wondered for a while if the other women felt the same way. Maybe not, although she did know that all of them – Jojo, Grace, Kate and even little Anne Marie – loved the monthly escape to her house on the cliffs. It was a time out of time. Somewhere they could leave the stresses of their daily lives behind and just be themselves for a couple of hours.
When she was a child reading had transported her into worlds where anything was possible. Worlds where the baddies always got their comeuppance. Worlds where there were always happy endings . . . even if they did sometimes take a while.
Serena stood in her orangery and looked out at the sunset that was beginning to pink the sky. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, she thought, if real life were a little bit more like fiction?
She pressed her fingers to her forehead and smiled at her foolishness.
One could always hope, she thought.
One could always dream.
Chapter 1
Anne Marie was sweeping the bathroom floor of Flat 10, The Moorings when a text came through on her phone, which was in the pocket of her overalls. She didn’t bother checking it because the only messages she’d had lately had been from her service provider updating her on their latest offers or telling her that she could now check her bill online (so good of you to think of me so often, O2. Thank you very much!).
For a moment she allowed herself to fantasize that the text was from a mysterious stranger asking her out to dinner. He wouldn’t actually be asking her out – obviously: he wouldn’t know who she was at that stage. It would be a misdial. But by the time they had chatted for a while and had realized they were actually soulmates, well, by then they really would be going out for dinner.
Where would they go? Calypso’s, probably. It was the classiest restaurant that Little Sanderton had to offer. Although occasionally she went to Ocean Views with one of the girls from the Reading Group. That might even be better. What could be more romantic than the ocean stretching out behind you while you tucked into a pint of prawns?
No, maybe not prawns: they had their tails on and could get messy. A prawn leg stuck in your teeth was not a good look either.
She blinked a few times. Where on earth had all that come from? She wasn’t even interested in dating. She was way too busy. A man would mess everything up. She needed a man like . . . she frowned, hunting for a suitable analogy . . . like she needed unreliable cleaners.
Sophie Smith, her youngest and prettiest member of staff, was supposed to be cleaning this flat, but she’d phoned in sick this morning so Anne Marie had been obliged to do it herself. Not that she’d had far to come. She lived in the same building. Four floors above, to be precise. She had the penthouse, thanks to Daddy. The Moorings had been his previous project.
To be honest, she could have got someone else to clean number ten, but she’d been curious. It was interesting seeing what other people did to what was basically the same footprint of rooms. This flat was a lot smaller, of course, than hers: only two bedrooms, and much lower spec – it had laminate for a start instead of proper wood floors, but it was still very interesting.
And it wasn’t such a bad thing to keep your hand in. Even if you were the boss. Never let it be said that she wasn’t prepared to pitch in and get her hands dirty – she could do humility with the best of them.
Her phone pinged with another text and Anne Marie paused. Not the phone company, then. They only ever sent one text at a time. It might actually be someone who wanted to speak to her. Hopefully not someone else phoning in sick.
It pinged again.
She hooked it out of her pocket and discovered that all three texts were from the same person: her long-time friend and confidante Manda Crippins.
The first was long and began: You are invited to the wedding of Jack Taylor and Manda Crippins on 28 January 2017, to be held at St Augustine’s Church, Stamford Green, Ashmore at 3.00 p.m.
Then it said ***incomplete text***
Flaming phone.
The rest of the invitation came through separately with a PS at the bottom: Sorry for text invite. Proper invite to follow. Cock-up at printer’s. Please reserve date.
Anne Marie raised her eyebrows. No wonder they’d texted: 28 January was only three weeks away. And it was the first she’d heard of any wedding – it was clearly last-minute.
The last text was a personal one to her, also from Manda: Darling, please come, it’s your fault we’re getting married. I’ll phone you later. Mwah, mwah.
Anne Marie smiled. Manda was right: it was all down to her. She’d introduced them, hadn’t she? So they’d met, fallen in love and were getting married inside six months. And she was responsible. She felt a little glow of pride.
Clearly she should be in the matchmaking game. Maybe she should organize a speed-dating event at Little Sanderton. That might be fun. A lot more fun than organizing a troupe of cleaners anyway. Daddy was always saying what a good organizer she was.
Less charitable people might call it meddling. People like her first – and, as it turned out, only – boss, but as Manda had pointed out when Anne Marie had been sacked, the woman was probably just jealous because Anne Marie was blonder, prettier and thinner than she was.
She wished she was thinner now. Not that she was actually fat, but the festive season had landed her with an extra half-stone she could have done without. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror that took up one wall of the luxury bathroom. The sunshine-yellow overalls didn’t help. They would have made anyone bigger than a size eight look enormous, especially when worn over jeans and a chunky jumper. Well, so what? It was cold today!
As for the huge logo, Clean Living, emblazoned across her breasts in shocking pink, it had probably been a bit OTT, even for her. She should have gone for a more stylish uniform when she’d set up the company, but there hadn’t been a lot of choice in the Corporate Clothing catalogue. And she’d liked the colours. Yellow was cheery, friendly and outgoing, just like her.
Anne Marie stopped looking at her reflection and thought about the man who owned this flat: Dominic Peterson, his name was. She’d met him only once, when he’d first contracted her company. He was a sales rep. For Jaguar, she thought. She’d spotted a whole pile of brochures on the bureau in his lounge when he’d been fetching his bank details to pay her. It was handy to know what your clients did for a living. Made it easier to strike up a conversation and, of course, check that they were solvent.
Yes, a speed-dating event in Little Sanderton would be just the thing. She could even invite Dominic! He was single. He deserved someone nice. His current – soon to be ex – girlfriend was a two-timing minx. Anne Marie knew this because just after she’d got there today she’d heard a message come through on the answerphone. It was the type of machine that plays the message aloud as it’s being recorded.
She’d been in the kitchen when the phone had rung, but she’d dashed through to the lounge in case it was important. She’d been just in time to hear a woman’s voice: ‘Dominic, I’m sorry, it’s over. I’ve met someone else. Bye.’
That had been it. Just like that. Anne Marie had been outraged on Dominic’s behalf. Dumping someone by answerphone message was seriously crappy. Worse than dumping them by text.
Never mind. She’d invite him to her speed-dating event where he could meet someone lovely.
She should probably finish cleaning his flat first.
Oh, it would be so nice to see Manda again. She hoped that Jack wasn’t going to drag her too far away from Little Sanderton once they were married. Not everyone wanted to live in a sleepy little coastal village . . . Just the floor-mopping to do now. She put some dance music on her iPod and turned up the volume. Getting fit and losing the half-stone she’d put on over the festive period were two of her New Year resolutions.
Another of her resolutions was to read some classic novels, which she hadn’t bothered with before because they were so tedious (apart from Far From the Madding Crowd, which they’d had to do for GCSE at school). But, thanks to a decision they’d made at Reading Group a couple of months ago, that resolution was already in hand too.
*
It was Reading Group tonight. They met on the first Thursday of the month. Anne Marie hummed as she got ready. She hoped January’s novel would be exciting. Preferably something that was on television, in case she was too busy to read it. This speed-dating event was going to take a bit of organizing, that was for sure.
It was Kate’s turn to pick this month’s novel. Kate was clever and sassy. Maybe she’d choose something amusing.
Anne Marie grabbed the keys to her Mazda as she dashed out of the door. Reading Group was great. Not because of the reading bit – she wasn’t a big reader – but because of the friendship, the female solidarity. They were a really solid gathering of women. It was like having a whole bunch of extra sisters. She only had one older sister, whom she hardly ever saw, and no brothers. Mum had died when she was tiny and Dad had never remarried.
Bless his cotton socks. She ought to go round and see him soon. He had a house on the cliffs. A great dark Gothic monster with about nine bedrooms and four bathrooms. Well, actually they were classrooms, not bedrooms – the place had once been a primary school. He’d bought it as an investment a few years ago and was living in it until he got planning permission to knock it down and build a block of flats.
It was one of the very few projects that wasn’t going well. He was a savvy property developer-cum-landlord. He owned quite a few places in Little Sanderton. It was down to him that she’d set up Clean Living. He bought the flats and let them. Her company cleaned them. In fact, it had been his idea that she start the company. He’d helped her set it up through Companies House and register it as a limited company and all the other boring stuff like that.
*
Anne Marie was the last to arrive at Reading Group. Everyone else was already in the snug, enjoying the warmth of the log-burner and a glass of red. Kate, who was closest to the door, handed her a glass. ‘Hello, lovely. We’re on mulled wine as it’s still kind of the festive season. How are you?’
Anne Marie breathed in the scents of spice and cinnamon. She felt the warmth of the room and the camaraderie of her friends, and she beamed. ‘All the better for seeing you guys. And I’m definitely up for extending the festive season. Do you think we can get away with it till the end of January?’
‘Well, at least until the end of tonight, angel.’ That was Jojo. She held out a plate of mince pies.
Anne Marie took two. They were only tiny, after all, with little pastry stars on them, and was that edible glitter? Yum. Besides, if they were extending the festive season then technically the New Year hadn’t started yet. So the diet could begin tomorrow.
There was a lot to catch up on.
Grace told them that Harry, her little boy who had been sick with cancer, was doing really well. ‘No more scares. He’s still in remission,’ she said.
‘And on a somewhat more mundane note, Anton’s finally agreed we can get a new kitchen,’ Kate said. ‘We’re going to look at units in the January sales. We might even get a breakfast bar.’
‘And I’m going to start a new business,’ Anne Marie announced to the group. ‘I’m going into matchmaking, starting with speed-dating events in Little Sanderton.’
Her news did not bring quite the roars of approval she was hoping for. In fact, she thought she saw Serena and Grace exchange a quick look of horror. ‘There are plenty of singles in Little Sanderton,’ she added.
‘Yes, but most of them are over eighty,’ Jojo said, with a frown.
‘Over-eighties deserve a love life too,’ Anne Marie said, waving a hand. ‘Maybe I’ll do a knitting speed-dating evening for them.’
Serena seemed to be choking on her mince pie. Anne Marie paused while Grace patted Serena on the back and refilled her glass. Then she went on, ‘I know I did get it wrong with that couple down the road, but you have to admit, they did seem a perfect match . . . apart from the age difference, I mean. It was a shame it ended so badly.’
‘And there was the woman on the checkout at Waitrose,’ Serena pointed out. She seemed to have recovered from her coughing fit. ‘The one you tried to set up with a customer – remember?’
‘Well, yes, but how was I to know the guy was a shoplifter? That wasn’t really my fault. I have had a major success, though,’ she went on blithely, and told them about Manda and Jack’s wedding.
‘Well, I think it’s . . . um . . . a lovely idea,’ Grace said diplomatically. ‘Anyway, a commercial enterprise is different from ad-hoc matchmaking, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so,’ Serena said, taking another sip of wine. ‘Now, moving swiftly on to the main business of the evening: our classic novel. Over to you, Kate. What are we reading this month?’
Kate had gone a little pink, Anne Marie noticed. Maybe they were reading something saucy? She clapped her hands in expectation.
Kate was shuffling around in her bag. ‘I can’t seem to – er – find it,’ she said. ‘How odd.’
Jojo bent down and hooked out a book that had been accidentally kicked half under the chesterfield. ‘Looks like you’d dropped it, angel. Here we are.’ She handed it back to Kate with a smile.
‘Ah, thank you.’ Kate didn’t look too happy, but she held it up to the group. ‘We’re going to read Jane Austen’s Emma,’ she said. ‘I hope you like it. Now, I must just nip to the loo.’
‘That’s one of her later ones, isn’t it?’ Jojo said. ‘What’s it about?’ Kate had already fled, so Jojo held up the book and read out the blurb on the back. ‘Emma Woodhouse is the character Austen was sure no one would like. She delights in meddling in the romantic lives of others . . .’ She tailed off.
Anne Marie frowned. Why was everyone looking so uncomfortable? She shook her head. It sounded like a really fun book to her.
Chapter 2
When Anne Marie rang her father’s doorbell the next day there was no answer. She let herself in through the front door, and was greeted by the smell of dogs – and then by an actual dog. Digby, Dad’s wet springer spaniel, had clearly been swimming.
He wagged ecstatically as she bent to stroke him, flicking water everywhere.
‘Where is he, then?’ Anne Marie asked Digby, though she knew exactly where he’d be – in his office at the back of the house. She was pretty sure he slept in there sometimes, workaholic that he was.
‘Dad!’ she called, as she walked along the corridors of parquet flooring. On either side, doors opened into classrooms, still full of the old desks and school chairs, all gathering dust.
She’d offered to get a team in to clean the place, but her father wouldn’t hear of it. ‘What’s the point when most of the rooms are shut up?’ he’d said, and she’d been unable to argue with that.
Knowing Dad, letting the place fall down around his ears was probably also a tactic – he was working on the assumption that the planning department would decide they’d rather have a block of nice new flats than a derelict eyesore on the outskirts of town.
She tapped on the glass upper pane of the office door. It still had the old sign in situ. Headmaster. She smiled. She had a feeling Dad rather liked the idea of being Headmaster, even if he did only have her to boss around.
‘Hello, Princess.’ He turned from where he had been hunched over a computer screen, tapping away into a spreadsheet. ‘What’s happening? I wasn’t expecting to see you today.’
She bent and kissed his bristly cheek. ‘What are you doing? Counting your money?’
‘Something like that. Is it coffee time?’ He got up stiffly and rubbed his arm. ‘I’ve got tennis elbow.’
‘You don’t play tennis.’
‘From using the mouse.’
‘It’s probably RSI. Shall I book you an appointment with Thomas?’
‘I’m ahead of you. He’s due any minute.’ He peered at the clock on the wall, which had stopped. ‘Well, I think he is. What time actually is it?’
‘Ten to ten.’ She sighed. ‘I’d better leave you in peace, then.’
‘Nonsense, you can make us a coffee. Thomas will be pleased to see you. He always asks after you.’
‘Are you matchmaking, Daddy?’ She smiled at him.
‘Hardly!’
‘Actually, it’s matchmaking I want to talk to you about, as it happens. Have you got five minutes?’
‘Darling, I’ve got all the time in the world to talk to you. Especially if it involves your love life.’
Anne Marie winced. Oops, she’d probably given him the wrong impression.
‘I don’t have a love life and I don’t want one, as you very well know,’ she said, as she carried a cafetiere of coffee and a plate of ginger nuts into the assembly hall, which was what currently passed for a lounge.
‘So you keep saying. It’s not normal, you know – a gorgeous young thing like you. I was out playing the field when I was your age.’
‘You were a boy,’ she pointed out.
‘Your sister was too.’ He slurped his coffee. ‘Playing the field, I mean. Not a boy.’ He winked.
‘Yes, and look where it got her. Four children and she’s only just turned thirty.’
‘It’s nice having children when you’re young.’ Having a conversation with her father was like playing table tennis. He batted each sentence back before she’d had a chance to formulate the next.
‘Thomas Hanson is a world authority on blood-spatter, he told me, last time I saw him,’ her dad remarked.
That was a bit random, even for him. ‘I’m sorry? What?’ Anne Marie raised her eyebrows.
‘He’s versatile, is what I’m saying. He’s clever. Educated. Solvent. Tall too. You could do a lot worse.’
‘You forgot “know-it-all”,’ she said, suddenly remembering she was supposed to be on a diet and feeding the remaining half ginger nut to an enthusiastic Digby. ‘The trouble with Thomas Hanson is that he’s got an opinion on absolutely everything. No wonder you get on so well.’
She’d said that rather too loudly in view of the fact that approximately ten seconds later Thomas appeared at the door. ‘Good morning. Sorry to barge in, but the bell doesn’t seem to work. I did try.’
He was smiling equably. Had he heard what she’d said?
She offered him a ginger nut.
He refused it. ‘No can do. New Year resolution. Cut down on sugar.’ He patted his perfectly flat stomach and added, ‘How’s the toilet cleaning going?’
Ouch. She decided not to rise. ‘Actually, I’m branching out,’ she said. ‘That’s what I was saying earlier, Daddy. I’m going into the matchmaking arena, running speed-dating events in the village.’
Her father nodded.
Thomas narrowed his eyes.
She ignored him. ‘I shall hire the village hall, advertise in the local press, charge people to come along.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘What do you think? We’ve never had anything like that in Little Sanderton before, and I do have a track record.’
‘You do?’ Thomas said, with irritating scepticism.
‘I do. Yes.’ She popped another ginger nut into her mouth, enjoying its melting sweetness on her tongue, and told them about Manda and Jack. ‘They met at my twenty-first birthday party. On the boat – do you remember, Daddy?’
‘How could I forget? Manda fell overboard, didn’t she, and Jack jumped in to rescue her?’
‘Well, he threw her the life buoy, anyway.’
Her father shuddered. ‘Good job it was summer. So now they’re getting married, are they? Well, I guess that’s a happy ending. Well done, Princess.’
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘as you said, Daddy, all’s well that ends well. I’ve been invited to their wedding. I can take a plus one. Maybe you could come along. It’s at the end of January.’
‘Thank you, Princess, but I think it’d be better if you went with someone your own age. You busy, Thomas?’
‘My diary’s usually pretty full,’ Thomas said quickly. ‘Speaking of which, we’d better have a look at that elbow of yours, hadn’t we?’
Honestly, Anne Marie thought, as she caught up on her invoicing later that evening. Why did no one believe her when she said she wasn’t interested in having a relationship? Manda was just as bad. When they’d chatted on the phone earlier Manda had asked her if she’d fancied being bridesmaid, then spent ages telling her about the best man.
‘His name’s Todd and he works with Jack on the trains,’ she said. ‘It’s really well paid, that job. He’s just in the process of buying his own house in Poundbury – you know, the estate in Dorchester that Prince Charles built.’
‘Lovely,’ said Anne Marie. ‘But I’m not on the market for a train driver called Todd.’
There was a pause. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve met someone else!’
‘No,’ Anne Marie said. ‘I haven’t. But I’d love to be your bridesmaid. Do you mind if I bring my dad?’
‘Of course I don’t. Your dad’s pretty cool.’
She certainly wouldn’t be bringing Thomas Hanson – that was for sure. They had absolutely nothing in common. Every time she saw him he insulted her. The only reason she let him get away with it was because she’d known him for ever. He’d been a friend of the family for as long as he’d been an osteopath. He was superb, apparently. Thankfully she had never needed his services.
The thought of him touching her with those long-fingered hands was – oh . . . She shivered. No, definitely not.
*
The door buzzer sounded as Anne Marie was packing up for the day. It was Sophie, she saw on the entry-phone screen. She must have recovered from her sore stomach. Well, that was good. She let her into the block.
‘Hello, honey-bunny, you feeling better?’ She ushered her through to the kitchen.
Sophie nodded. ‘I’m fine now, thanks.’
‘You’re not coming to tell me you’ve had enough of cleaning for a living, are you?’
‘I’m not, no.’ Sophie blinked rapidly several times. ‘But you might decide you’ve had enough of me when you hear what I’ve done.’
‘I doubt that.’ Anne Marie looked at her properly. Her eyes were glittery and her face really quite pale. ‘You’re my best cleaner.’
‘I’ve broken my Henry,’ Sophie said, and burst into tears.
Anne Marie hugged her. She had no idea what she was talking about, but the poor girl was clearly distraught. For a few moments she let her sob and wished she knew what to say to make her feel better. ‘Who’s Henry?’ she ventured, when Sophie had finally stopped crying. ‘Is he your boyfriend?’
‘He’s my vacuum,’ Sophie said. ‘My really expensive vacuum you told me not to break. On pain of death.’
Gosh, she hadn’t really said that, had she? How tactless.
‘I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know how it happened. I think I must have sucked up something too big.’
‘Oh,’ Anne Marie said. ‘Is that all? I thought you were upset about something serious.’
‘That is serious, isn’t it?’ Sophie looked at her, wide-eyed. ‘They’re really expensive, you said.’
‘Yes, but it’s only money, isn’t it?’ Anne Marie felt very maternal and wise. ‘It’s replaceable. I can probably claim on my insurance. I thought someone had died or you’d split up with your boyfriend or something.’
‘What? You mean Gary?’ Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘No, I haven’t split up with him. He proposed the other day. He did it on my birthday. Got down on one knee and everything in McDonald’s.’
‘McDonald’s?’ Annie Marie gasped. ‘That’s not very romantic.’
‘No, I know, but we like McDonald’s. It’s where we met. He was on the griddle and I was waitressing. Before I got the job with you, I mean. Gary’s still there – he’s Head Chef so he gets us a discount.’ Sophie had brightened considerably now she knew she wasn’t in trouble.
‘Did you say yes?’ Anne Marie had a horrible feeling she already knew what was coming.
Sophie studied her blue-and-pink fingernails. ‘I said I’d let him know in a week. I don’t want him to think I’m a complete pushover.’
‘Good girl,’ Annie Marie said. ‘You’re far too young to go rushing into marriage. It’s a massive step.’
Sophie nodded uncertainly. ‘I was going to say yes, though,’ she said, screwing up her forehead. ‘Do you think I shouldn’t, then?’
Anne Marie settled her at the breakfast bar and opened a pack of extra special Belgian-chocolate cupcakes with edible glitter that she had left over from Christmas. Desperate times called for desperate measures. ‘Have I ever told you about my sister Julia?’
Sophie shook her head.
‘Julia got married when she was just a few months older than you are now. She was supposed to be going to Cambridge. She was offered a place and she turned it down. Can you believe that?’
Sophie’s eyes popped. ‘She turned it down because she wanted to get married?’
‘She turned it down because she was pregnant. How someone that brainy doesn’t have the sense to take proper precautions, I’ll never know.’
‘I’m on the pill,’ Sophie said promptly.
‘You’re clearly more intelligent than my sister.’ Anne Marie drummed her fingers on the breakfast bar. ‘Guess what happened next.’
‘She lost the baby?’ Sophie ventured.
‘No. She did not. She got married to this oik,’ that was a bit harsh – her brother-in-law was a doctor and quite a laugh – but she wanted to make her point, ‘and now they have four children and Julia’s only just turned thirty.’
‘I see.’ Sophie started on her second cupcake. ‘Is that bad?’
‘It’s not bad, exactly.’ She was going to have her work cut out here. ‘The point I’m trying to make is that you’re a bright girl. You’re doing a college course, aren’t you? The last thing you want is to throw it all away on a burger-tosser – I mean fryer.’
‘I see.’
‘Unless you really love him. Do you love him?’
‘I like him a lot.’ Sophie batted her eyelashes thoughtfully. ‘And we do get on well. He makes me laugh.’
‘Yes, but does he make your heart go into overdrive?’ Anne Marie asked. She couldn’t remember ever feeling that way about a man – but that was a standard indicator of love, wasn’t it? ‘Look, Sophie, if you’re not sure I think you should say no.’
‘Really?’ Sophie looked alarmed. She was a pretty little thing, blonde with brilliant-blue eyes – that were, at this moment, sparkly with tears. She was petite too, with a delicacy about her that put Anne Marie in mind of an elf. Sophie didn’t look at all chunky in the yellow Clean Living overalls. And now she was on her third cupcake. How did she do it?
‘You should definitely say no.’ She took hold of Sophie’s shoulders and gave her a gentle little shake. She’d just had a brainwave. Dominic Peterson – who lived in this very block! – was a far better proposition than some griddle chef, whose main asset was being able to get a discount on burgers! Dominic had a very nice home. And a well-paid job. Also, Anne Marie was sure she’d seen a Jag in the car park this morning – it was probably his. Although it might have been a company car, of course. Still, a temporary Jaguar was better than no Jaguar.
‘What sort of car has he got – this Gary?’
‘He hasn’t got one at all yet. He’s learning to drive in his dad’s Fiesta.’
That clinched it. ‘Tell him to sling his hook,’ Anne Marie said firmly. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’
Chapter 3
Matchmaking was harder than it sounded, Anne Marie thought the next day. It had seemed easy. All she had to do was arrange for Sophie to bump into Dominic Peterson and let Fate take its natural course.
There were two fatal flaws to this plan.
Number one was that Dominic was never in when he had his cleaning done. That was the whole point – he liked to be out of the way when it was taking place. Most of her clients were like that, although she did have the odd controlling one who liked
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