‘And what’s your excuse this time, Dan?’
‘As usual, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘But you do. The Khan file? Mason, was it? And one other, it’ll come to me in a minute. Something Italian. You’re in deep shit again, Dan, aren’t you? That’s why you were hidden away in that office the whole time we were at Harriet’s. You were trying to keep control of things. But you couldn’t, could you, even though you tried to get Laxmi to do your dirty work. Did she do what you wanted? Are those files still in your briefcase where your boss can’t find them? I bet he’ll be worried they’re lost. Maybe I should give him a ring.’
That made Dan sit up. ‘Don’t threaten me, Sophie. This is my career and you know nothing about it.’
‘Then don’t think you can play me for a fool. You’ve missed the whole point. Don’t you get it? I don’t need your forgiveness for standing up for myself. And I don’t want you controlling me any more.’
‘Even though you need it.’
She laughed. ‘I’ll be deciding what I need from now on. Right now I need you to leave. Goodbye, Dan.’
‘Have it your way. You’ll come round. Do you know why? Because you can’t do it yourself.’
‘Goodbye, Dan.’
She watched him through the front window, stomping towards the Tube station. He didn’t look back.
Sophie rang one of the other mothers to ask her to pick up the children. Then she drove herself to A&E, coughing most of the way, to check that she wasn’t having a heart attack.
They brought her straight into a treatment room and hooked her up to an ECG monitor. She did have to wait for the results, though. Eventually, the doctor invited her into a little office.
‘Your ECG is normal,’ the doctor said.
‘Even though it’s skipping?’
‘We caught one of the beats, and it’s the regular ectopic that we saw last time. It can be uncomfortable but it’s not dangerous. And looking at your notes, your blood pressure is better. It’s nearly normal now. Did you go on the medication?’
‘No, I wanted to see if I could get it down naturally.’
The doctor flashed Sophie a smile. ‘Well, whatever you’ve been doing, keep doing it. It’s working.’
‘I will,’ said Sophie. ‘Thank you.’
The following Sunday, Harriet sat in Bea’s tea shop sipping another strong coffee. She would need it for later. Her calves ached from exertion, much more than if she’d done her normal weekend Zumba at the village church. She wasn’t used to walking on the rambling paths, but she hadn’t disliked it. In fact, she wasn’t sure why she’d chosen to do Zumba for the past three years when she could have been outside doing, well, whatever she liked. There was something to be said for sometimes living life unscripted. Within the bounds of common sense. She didn’t see herself ever turning up to a train station without checking the timetable first or not bringing an umbrella when there was rain in the forecast.
Maybe she’d risk it now for a fifty-fifty chance, though.
‘Finished?’ Bea didn’t wait for an answer before slapping down Harriet’s bill. Charm personified, as always.
‘Yes, thanks.’ She didn’t reach for her purse.
‘Closing soon.’
‘How soon?’
‘Soon.’
It was time to go home anyway and face the music.
The cottage was completely silent, as she knew it would be. She tried to ignore her thudding heart but it was no use. She had to face the facts. James and Persephone’s plans were in motion.
She stood with her key in the lock.
Stop being dramatic, she chided herself, or you’ll be up for James’s drama queen crown. Nobody had died, for goodness’ sake. People managed these situations all the time. It might not even be all bad. One never knew.
As she reached the darkened living room – the curtains had all been pulled – the floor lamp in the corner flicked on.
Surprise!!!
And she honestly was, because the room was absolutely heaving. Her work colleagues were all there, her London friends, and Billie and James and Persephone, of course.
Plus, it seemed, the entire village. She’d have expected them to turn up for James’s birthday, but not for hers. Yet the smiles reflected back at her weren’t obviously fake.
It was possible they didn’t dislike her quite as much as she’d thought. Or at least, they were making the effort for James. They were such a close-knit community and, she supposed, that had its advantages.
Perhaps she’d been applying the wrong assumptions to the problem all along, and the results she’d observed weren’t down to the villagers. If the outcomes were the same no matter which neighbour was in the equation, then common sense said to look at the other variable.
Harriet needed to update the inputs on her side. Maybe a little more effort from her (and fewer direct questions). She found she looked forward to testing her hypothesis.
James waited for her beside Bea, who was shaking her head. ‘Someone wouldn’t leave my shop in good time. Had to run all the way ’ere to get ahead of you!’
Perfect. Her first test. ‘I’m sorry you had to run,’ she told Bea, ‘but I’m glad you’re here.’
At first, Bea hesitated. ‘So am I,’ she said. Her smile looked genuine.
It was too small a sample to be conclusive, but Harriet was encouraged by the result.
Strings of red and white balloons floated overhead from the dark beams and a huge Happy 45th Birthday banner hung over the windows. She cringed seeing it written out in all its huge curly-font glory. So much for slipping quietly into middle age.
Persephone was among the first to reach her. It felt good to hug her now that she knew she wasn’t getting off with James.
How wrong could she have been about that? It just went to show what happened when logic got chucked aside. And she knew all about confirmation bias, too. It took only one tiny suspicion to spark things off, and then every interaction after that was coloured by it.
‘Were you surprised?’ Persephone asked.
‘Totally. I would never have guessed this was what you had planned.’ She reached for the red and lacy alternating serviettes fanned out on the long table, which was laden with food. ‘I love these. They’re exactly right. Everything’s perfect.’
She caught James’s eye. Nobody but her would have seen the tiny wink he gave. After all the trouble everyone had gone to, they’d never tell a soul that she’d found out beforehand. Not even their nearest and dearest.
‘Well, it’s done now, so we can all go back to normal.’ Persephone handed her a glass of champagne. ‘Pub next week? Just us. Let’s leave James at home.’
They almost always went out as a threesome. ‘I’d like that,’ Harriet said. She pulled out her phone. ‘When? Which day?’ Then she paused. ‘You know what? Let’s decide next week. You can text me.’ She put her phone away again.
Persephone raised her eyebrows. Then she nodded towards the cluster of people waiting. ‘Everyone wants to wish you happy birthday.’
That sent Harriet’s anxiety skyrocketing. As they filed past to offer their congratulations, Harriet realised that she didn’t even know all their names. Jim Simmons, the Scout leader, of course she remembered, but only because he’d so formally shaken her hand when he’d introduced himself. She was glad to see that he wasn’t wearing his badges tonight.
When Mrs Miller introduced herself, shaking her hand as formally as Jim had, Harriet tried not to stare at her hair, since keen observational skills didn’t seem to be the best route to friendship. Still, she doubted that a hurricane could blow a strand of that hairdo out of place.
She was only able to calm down when everyone had filed past her. People stood or sat in groups all around the crowded room. Her colleagues huddled together, naturally, since they didn’t know anyone else. The same went for her friends from London. But it was the villagers who were the most interesting. Seeing them chatting easily with each
other, Harriet realised that she wouldn’t mind being included. Occasionally, just a few people at a time.
‘Happy Birthday again,’ James said as his lips met hers. ‘It’s as bad as you feared, isn’t it?’
‘I’ll forgive you eventually. I do appreciate the effort. Just promise you’ll never try anything like this again.’
James smiled. ‘I promise. Never. Those were the most stressful months of my life.’ His warm lips met hers again. ‘For you too. I’m sorry.’
Calls for a speech sparked up around the room. ‘Don’t make me,’ she murmured.
Even though he hated talking in front of people, James stepped up. He was doing more stepping up now, and she was trying not to control everything. They were both works in progress.
James made that noise in his throat. ‘Ahh, thank you for coming tonight to celebrate Harriet’s birthday, and for keeping it quiet while we planned it. It’s hugely appreciated. Some of you will know that Harriet wouldn’t let anyone make a fuss over her fortieth. Or any birthday since I’ve known her, actually.’ He raised his thick eyebrows. ‘But so many people love you and wish you well, that we wanted you to know that. So I guess I’d just like to raise a glass to Harriet.’
Then he began to talk just to her. ‘You drive me mad, but I know not as mad as I drive you, so I’m grateful every day that you still love me as much as I love you. I love you, Harriet. I admire you, I respect you and, frankly, after two decades I’m still in awe of you. I’m sure nobody would look at us and think “made for each other”, but we’ve rubbed along pretty well, haven’t we?’ Harriet nodded. ‘I think so, too. So, before everyone gets too bored, the reason we’re here: to Harriet!’
‘To Harriet!’ everyone said, holding their glasses aloft.
‘To the Snarkersons!’ shouted Billie.
‘To the Snarkersons,’ Harriet said, tipping her glass to James. ‘Not everyone’s cup of tea, but for us, for some reason, it works.’
Harriet was swept up in another whirlwind of good wishes.
There was Marion, laughing with the young butcher. Harriet couldn’t be sure, but he seemed impressed that she’d swapped her dungarees for a dress, and mucky boots for little heels. And either the lighting in the room was funny, or Marion was wearing make-up.
Then she spotted Sophie, talking to Molly the masseuse and the Bumblebee Bakery woman. ‘You’re here!’ She threw her arms around her friend. Then she remembered her working hypothesis and smiled warmly at the other women, too. ‘Thank you for coming. The cake looks delicious, and …’ She searched for an equivalent compliment for Molly. ‘I look forward to my next massage.’ Small talk wasn’t so hard after all.
‘Were you surprised?’ Sophie asked.
‘Given how much we’ve talked this week, I’m surprised you kept it a secret,’ she said. Though she hadn’t admitted to knowing about the party to Sophie, either, so that made them even.
Somehow, the women seemed to know to leave them to their discussion.
Sophie suddenly smiled at someone over Harriet’s shoulder as she sipped her champagne.
‘I see you finally got your bubbly,’ the woman behind Harriet said. An old man in a three-piece suit stood next to her. Sophie raised her glass to them both.
Then to Harriet, she quietly explained, ‘That’s the barmaid at the pub. And the man next to her? He’s got a girlfriend. And a wife; can you believe it?’
‘You know more people here than I do,’ Harriet said.
‘You might get to know them better.’
‘I think I will. How are you doing?’
‘Okay, considering.’ Sophie took a deep breath. ‘Dan’s still livid that I’m standing up for myself, though he’s being true to form. He sent another a text apologising. Not that it means anything. I know him. He’s just trying to get his own way. But he’s got bigger problems than me right now. His boss is accusing him of shady stuff again with his clients.’
‘He told you that?’
Sophie nodded. ‘While he was ranting. According to him it’s the world’s biggest stitch-up, of course, but you know it’s probably not. Poor Dan’s not having a very good summer.’ She didn’t look at all unhappy about that. In fact, she looked rather radiant.
‘At least he got a holiday out of it,’ Harriet said.
‘Here’s to holidays.’ They touched glasses. ‘May they always be this illuminating.’
Harriet watched her friend. ‘You seem like a different person now.’
‘I feel a million miles away from that woman in the airport who didn’t even pack her own suitcase, let alone carry it.’
‘Or know where her fake tan came from,’ Harriet reminded her.
Sophie pulled a face. ‘I’ll be buying my own fake tan from now on.’
‘And keeping your spices in date, I hope.’
‘I’m sorry, Harriet, but that will never be a big deal to me.’
Harriet looked at Sophie, then out across the room at Billie, at James, at her friends and colleagues. Everyone in her world. ‘You know what? You’re right. Life’s too short to worry about little things like that.’
Acknowledgements
I owe so much to my agent, Caroline Hardman, for her superb guidance and always-honest feedback. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Many thanks, too, to Sam Eades, who brought me into the Orion family, and to my editor, Katie Ellis-Brown, who has been with me every step of the way on this book. Katie, your insight into the story and character development has been tremendous, and so much appreciated.
Project editor extraordinaire, Rosie Pearce, and Jenny Page, my copy-editor, made sure the manuscript was whipped into shape. The behind-the-scenes heroes of the publishing world, your attention to detail ensures a beautiful reading experience for booklovers, and is so valuable.
Thanks to Krystyna Kujawinska and the rights team, who are championing the book around the world, to Charlotte Abrams-Simpson for designing the fantastic, eye-catching cover for it, and to the publicity and marketing teams for getting it in front of readers.
To all the amazing authors who have taken the time to read early copies, share your thoughts and support the launch, I am deeply indebted. I do believe we have the most supportive community imaginable.
I’d also like to pay tribute to the UK’s wonderous libraries and enthusiastic, overworked and underpaid librarians. Thanks to you, everyone has the chance to read my books for free. I would encourage booklovers to use them as much as they can. Thanks to the UK’s Public Lending Right, we authors get a payment every time you borrow one of our books.
Most of all, thank you to everyone who borrows or buys my books. I wouldn’t be an author without you.
And finally, Andrew. Through the publication of every one of my seventeen books, you’ve given me an ear for bending, a shoulder to lean on and a heart that could not be more perfect.
Credits
Trapeze would like to thank everyone at Orion who worked on the publication of The Staycation.
Agent
Caroline Hardman
Editor
Katie Ellis-Brown
Copy-editor
Jenny Page
Proofreader
Donna Hillyer
Editorial Management
Sam Eades
Rosie Pearce
Charlie Panayiotou
Jane Hughes
Alice Davis
Claire Boyle
Audio
Paul Stark
Amber Bates
Contracts
Anne Goddard
Paul Bulos
Jake Alderson
Design
Loulou Clark
Lucie Stericker
Joanna Ridley
Nick May
Clare Sivell
Helen Ewing
Finance
Jennifer Muchan
Jasdip Nandra
Rabale Mustafa
Elizabeth Beaumont
Sue Baker
Tom
Costello
Marketing
Jen McMenemy
Production
Claire Keep
Fiona McIntosh
Publicity
Alex Layt
Sales
Laura Fletcher
Victoria Laws
Esther Waters
Lucy Brem
Frances Doyle
Ben Goddard
Georgina Cutler
Jack Hallam
Ellie Kyrke-Smith
Inês Figuiera
Barbara Ronan
Andrew Hally
Dominic Smith
Deborah Deyong
Lauren Buck
Maggy Park
Linda McGregor
Sinead White
Jemimah James
Rachel Jones
Jack Dennison
Nigel Andrews
Ian Williamson
Julia Benson
Declan Kyle
Robert Mackenzie
Imogen Clarke
Megan Smith
Charlotte Clay
Rebecca Cobbold
Operations
Jo Jacobs
Sharon Willis
Lisa Pryde
Rights
Susan Howe
Richard King
Krystyna Kujawinska
Jessica Purdue
Louise Henderson
Help us make the next generation of readers
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Did you know that 9 per cent of children don’t have a book of their own in their home, rising to 13 per cent in disadvantaged families*? We’d like to try to change that by asking you to consider the role you could play in helping to build readers of the future.
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*As reported by the National Literacy Trust
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