MIRANDA DICKINSON
Welcome to My World
Copyright
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
AVON
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
Copyright © Miranda Dickinson 2010
Miranda Dickinson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780007236183
Ebook Edition © October 2012 ISBN: 9780007352517
Version 2018-07-04
For Phil Henley – who travelled round the world to find his heart.
Contents
Copyright
Chapter One - How It All Began . . .
Chapter Two - Best Friends
Chapter Three - All About Alex
Chapter Four - Recycle Your Man
Chapter Five - The Point of No Return
Chapter Six - Hide-and-Seek
Chapter Seven - A Question of Priorities . . .
Chapter Eight - You’ve Got Mail . . .
Chapter Nine - The Big ‘F’
Chapter Ten - I Never Normally Do This, but . . .
Chapter Eleven - If Only You Knew . . .
Chapter Twelve - Come Away With Me . . .
Chapter Thirteen - So Many Girls, So Little Time . . .
Chapter Fourteen - Business as Usual . . .
Chapter Fifteen - The Date From Hell . . .
Chapter Sixteen - Anyone but Her . . .
Chapter Seventeen - All I Want for Christmas . . .
Chapter Eighteen - Questions and Answers . . .
Chapter Nineteen - Truth and Dare
Chapter Twenty - Island Life . . .
Chapter Twenty-One - Raise Your Glasses, Please . . .
Chapter Twenty-Two - Stepping Out
Miranda’s next novel - coming in 2010
Chapter One - The Most Wonderful Time of the Year?
Welcome to My World - About the Author
Thanksgiving from Author
By The Same Author
Chapter One
How It All Began . . .
Right at the start, there are two things you should know about Harri: one, she doesn’t usually make a habit of locking herself in toilet cubicles during parties; and two, she is normally one of the most sane, placid individuals you could ever meet.
But tonight is an exception.
Because this evening – at exactly 11.37 p.m. – the world Harri knew ended in one catastrophic event. In the space of three and a half minutes, everyone she loved collided in an Armageddon of words, leaving mass carnage in its wake – sobbing women, shouting men and squashed vol-au-vents as far as the eye could see. Powerless to stop the devastation, she resorted to the only sensible option left available – seeking refuge in the greying vinyl haven that is the middle cubicle in the ladies’ loo at Stone Yardley Village Hall.
So here she is. Sitting on the wobbly toilet, black plastic lid down, head in hands, life Officially Over. And she has no idea what to do next.
It was all Viv’s idea. Harri should have said no straight away but, being Harri, she decided to give her first Sunday school teacher the benefit of the doubt.
‘You know how useless Alex is at finding suitable girlfriends,’ Viv said, lifting a steaming apple pie from the Aga and in advertently resembling a serene tableau from Country Life as she did so. ‘He’s hopeless! I mean, twelve girlfriends in the last year and not two brain cells between them. Danielle, Renée, Georgia, Saffron, two Marys, three Kirstys, an India, for heaven’s sake – and the last two I can’t even remember . . .’
Harri smiled into her mug of tea. ‘Lucy the weathergirl and Sadie the boomerang.’
Viv looked up from her flour-dusted Good Housekeeping recipe book. ‘The boomerang?’
‘Yeah, you know, the one who keeps coming back when you chuck her,’ Harri grinned.
‘Harriet Langton, you can be awfully sharp for someone so generally charitable.’
Harri gave a bow. ‘Thank you, Viv.’
‘So, anyway, about Alex . . .’ Viv smiled – and then presented her Big Idea. So subtle in its introduction, it seemed so innocuous that nobody could have predicted the devastation it was about to cause.
It began with a nib feature in Juste Moi, Viv’s favourite women’s glossy magazine. Between articles on the latest fashions that Hollywood starlets were scrapping over, and scarily titled features such as ‘Over 50s and the Big-O’, was a small column entitled ‘Free to a Good Home’.
‘People write in,’ Viv explained, ‘and nominate a man they know, to be recycled.’
‘Recycled?’ Harri repeated incredulously. ‘Into what? That sounds horrific.’
‘It’s not like going to the bottle bank, Harri. It’s presenting a man who’s been unlucky in love – you know, divorced, recently separated or just plain rubbish at finding the right girl – to a whole new audience.’
‘I can’t believe that works,’ Harri giggled. ‘I mean, who writes