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First published in Great Britain by Harper 2015
Copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers 2015
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Cressida McLaughlin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
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.
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Ebook Edition © September 2015 ISBN: 9780008135225
Version: 2015-08-25
Contents
Keep Reading_ Primrose Terrace
Cat Palmer was about to go on her first date in a very long time, and her nerves were making her indecisive. She rearranged her chestnut, elfin-cut hair. She ruffled it, smoothed it and ruffled it again, turning her head in the mirror.
It was partly the long gap – she’d been single since her relationship with teacher Daniel had come to an end nearly two years before – and she’d settled a bit too well into single life. They’d been happy together, at the beginning, but Cat had never been able to summon up the adoration for Daniel that he undoubtedly felt for her. Cat sometimes wondered whether she was looking for something that didn’t exist, whether she should have stayed with Daniel and waited for her affection to grow into love, but the dominant, more romantic part of her brain told her that there was more out there for her, someone she could truly fall for. Was tonight the start of that?
There was no denying that her nerves were mostly to do with the man she was meeting. Mark. Scriptwriter and dog owner, effortlessly good-looking, as charming as he was quick-witted. Cat shuddered just thinking about him. Tonight was the culmination of months of fancying and sidestepping, flirting and innuendo, one kiss on the front steps in early summer.
She had chosen her best dress for the occasion; deep red with a cinched-in waist, full skirt and scooped neckline. Her sandals were pale gold with a low heel, her toenails as red as her dress. Fairview was under the spell of a shimmering August sun, and it had been the kind of day when winter seemed impossible, something that never visited the south coast. Cat couldn’t imagine a setting, or a scenario more perfect – and yet, along with the anticipation, she was apprehensive.
Cat had never met anyone as good at flirting as Mark was. He had the ability to make her feel like the only woman in the world, and could turn on the charm like a Bunsen burner. And despite his promising her dinner almost as soon as they met, it had taken months to pin him down. Their dinner date had originally been booked for three weeks earlier, but he’d been called away to London, his latest script in the early stages of production. Mark was mysterious and elusive, and Cat had had enough of that. She wanted to get to know him.
‘Cat,’ Joe called from the bottom of the stairs. ‘It’s seven fifteen. Isn’t he coming at half past? Are you still in the shower?’
Cat grinned. ‘I’m nearly done!’ she shouted. ‘Thanks, though!’
Joe, housemate, brother of her best friend Polly and – Cat hoped by now – good friend in his own right, wasn’t mysterious. He was dependable, honest (sometimes a bit too honest), and straightforward, qualities Cat was beginning to find as attractive as the man himself. He was blond, but with skin that tanned easily – Cat had been treated to more of his well-honed body this summer than was strictly necessary – and his blue eyes could beat her in a staring contest hands down. After a rocky start, they were slipping into an easy friendship, which apparently now included timekeeping duties.
She spritzed perfume behind her ears, checked the contents of her red evening bag and went downstairs, treating the others to a full twirl.
‘Wow.’ Polly looked up from her revision notes, her chewed pen-lid falling onto the table. She had her final exams over the next few weeks, an anxious wait until the end of September and then – Cat was confident – would be a fully qualified veterinary nurse. At the end of the month Cat would have her best friend back, and she couldn’t wait.
‘Cat Palmer,’ Polly said, ‘you look amazing.’
Cat gave a nervous smile. ‘Thanks. Thought I’d make an effort.’
‘You’ll knock his socks off,’ Polly assured her.
‘He probably doesn’t wear socks in the summer,’ Joe said. ‘He’s probably the kind of guy who wears brogues without socks. I bet he’s that guy.’
‘Joey.’ Polly hit her brother’s arm and Shed, Joe’s large ginger cat, looked up with one open eye from where he was lying splayed out along his owner’s lap. Cat and Shed hadn’t made friends when she’d