The Women of Primrose Square

by Claudia Carroll

  Francesca and her family, particularly that big, strapping son of hers, Ben, had been fabulous too and had done a lot of the heavy lifting. But the whole project had really been Emily’s redesign and she was bloody delighted with the way it was turning out.

  Turning out so far, she corrected herself, as there was still so much more to do. But so far, they had redone the entire hall, stairs and landing in a clean, crisp artic white, which showed off to perfection the newly varnished staircase. Which was now looking grander than ever, with the tatty old carpet consigned to a skip and with a gentle, elegant cream stair carpet in its place.

  A lot done, a lot to do, but still. Every time Emily turned her key in the hall door, she felt a surge of deep pride. Even Violet herself was delighted with the results.

  ‘It’s getting back to the way it used to be!’ she’d often say. ‘Back when I was a girl – back to when this house was the envy of the whole square.’

  Not that restoring the house was high on Violet’s list of priorities on a day like today, though.

  ‘Now?’ she called back down to Emily, appearing on her walking stick at the top of the stairs and slowly making her way down. ‘Really now?’

  ‘Now.’ Emily nodded, trying hard to keep calm and sound confident. It had taken so much investigative work to make a day like today come about, and she knew that Violet was sick with nerves.

  If she sees me anxious too, she thought, then we’re done for.

  ‘And he’s there? Actually there?’

  ‘Sitting on a bench in Primrose Square, talking to Jayne. Waiting for you, Violet. Just waiting for you. His taxi arrived from the airport about half an hour ago, and he’s come all this way to see you. So come on, you don’t want to be late.’

  ‘How do I look?’ Violet asked, coming down the last few stairs and walking as far as the hall door.

  Emily smiled at her. The truth was that Violet had never looked better. She’d finally filled out a bit and had lost that bony, gaunt, pinched look on her face, so now there was a softness about her features, which took years off her. It was a mild spring day and she was wearing a light lavender raincoat that Emily had bought her with her staff discount from work for Christmas.

  ‘You look great,’ Emily said truthfully. ‘You look like the Queen on her way to open a sausage factory. All you need is a miniature bottle of gin in your handbag and you’re good to go.’

  Violet was about to retort, as she always did with Emily – the two sparred off each other constantly and a sizeable part of Violet actually seemed to enjoy it. But then they were distracted by Jayne, who’d just left the square and was crossing the road over to the house, waving and smiling happily.

  ‘Well, Violet, don’t you look wonderful!’ she said, seeing her old friend framed in the doorway. ‘He’s here and absolutely dying to see you.’

  ‘He’s there?’ Violet repeated nervously. ‘Really there?’

  ‘Really there, sitting on a park bench. And wait till you see him, Vi. He’s the living image of . . .’ But Jayne broke off there, not wanting to shatter the mood.

  ‘The image of his father, I imagine you were about to say,’ Violet finished the sentence for her.

  ‘Yes,’ Jayne said quietly. ‘Yes, that’s exactly it. Andy McKim, God have mercy on him.’

  In their investigations over the past few months, Emily and Violet had discovered that Andy McKim had passed away only about two years previously. In a nursing home in Kent, they’d discovered, having only had minimal contact with his extended family for years.

  ‘Yes, well, never mind about him now,’ Violet said crisply, double-checking her lipstick in the mirror just inside the hall door. ‘What’s past is past.’

  ‘Well said, old woman,’ Emily smiled, giving her an affectionate pat on the back and handing over her good gloves. ‘It’s the future that we all need to focus on.’

  ‘I can’t believe Freddie Junior is fifty years of age,’ Jayne chatted away excitedly. ‘He looks so much younger. All that sunshine and Vitamin D in California, I suppose. And you won’t believe this Vi, but guess what he told me? He plays the piano in his spare time. Isn’t that astonishing? He’s musical, just like you!’

  ‘He’s come halfway around the world to get here,’ Emily said quietly, gripping Violet’s arm as Jayne took the other and gently guided her to the front step. ‘I think he’s finally ready to meet his mum.’

  ‘All right then,’ Violet eventually said, taking a very deep breath and composing herself. ‘In that case, it would be unconscionably rude to keep him waiting much longer. Just help me out of here and let’s do this.’

  With one last grateful look to both women supporting her, Violet steeled herself, stood tall with her shoulders back, and for the first time in decades, stepped past the threshold of her own front door.

  Outside.

  Free.

  Two years later

  ‘And now my next guest on Morning FM is a woman with a truly astonishing tale to tell. Francesca Woods, welcome to the show and thank you for coming in to talk to us today.’

  ‘Delighted to be here,’ Francesca smiled, feeling a little nervous, but determined not to let jitters get the better of her.

  ‘Let me just say this to our listeners out there,’ said the over-caffeinated morning radio presenter, a chirpy, perky twenty-something called Kirk. ‘Obviously none of you can see Francesca but let me give you a visual: she’s radiant – and wow, what a smile!’

  ‘Oh, now, stop it,’ Francesca beamed, swatting away the compliment.

  ‘But let me begin by asking you this,’ Kirk went on. ‘You weren’t always Francesca, were you? In fact, you’ve been on quite a journey, it’s fair to say.’

  ‘I certainly have,’ Francesca said, with a confident toss of her hair. ‘And now I’m here to help others who may find themselves in a similar situation.’

  ‘Will you share your experiences with us today?’ Kirk prompted.

  ‘I’d be delighted to,’ said Francesca, gearing herself up for what she knew would be a lengthy interview. ‘But first of all, can I just say a few very quick hellos?’

  ‘Of course, be my guest.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be here without three very special people,’ Francesca said simply. ‘They were always there for me, just as I am for them.’

  ‘I’m guessing you mean your wife and kids?’ Kirk replied, referring down to the notes in front of him. ‘That’s . . . let’s see . . . Gracie, Ben and Amber?’

  Francesca shook her head. ‘They’re not just my family,’ she said firmly. ‘They’re my sanity, my reason for getting out of bed in the morning. They’re the joy in my life.’

  At that, she turned to the production booth behind her, which was separated from the studio by a thick glass partition. There stood Gracie, waving proudly and giving two very big thumbs up.

  She knows what a big deal this is for me, Francesca thought, so she came with me for support. My best friend. The best friend I ever had.

  ‘My family are my whole world,’ she said, turning back to the interview. ‘Always were, always will be.’

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you, Marianne Gunn O’Connor. Always and for everything.

  Thank you, Pat Lynch.

  Thank you, Vicki Satlow.

  Very special thanks to Sarah Bauer, for her tireless hard work and for being such an all-around joy. Thank you also to Katie Lumsden, who has the most incredible eye for detail – it’s a privilege to work with you both.

  Thank you, Kate Parkin and Perminder Mann.

  Thank you, Eli Dryden.

  Thank you to Francesca Russell, for the amazing work she does in Publicity.

  Thank you, Alexandra Allden, for the most glorious book covers.

  Thank you so much to James Horobin, Stephen Dumughn, Nico Poilblanc, Vincent Kelleher, Imogen Sebba, Ellen Turner, Carla Hutchinson, Sahina Bibi, Angie Willocks, Victoria Hart, Carrie-Ann Pitt, Jamie Taylor, Alex May, Natalie Braine, Lae
titia Grant and Dean Cornish – for everything.

  Special hello to Margaret Stead. I’m so looking forward to meeting you, so I can thank you in person for all your kindness.

  Thanks to Simon Hess, who works so hard and does so much for all of us.

  Thanks to all the team in Dublin: Declan Heeney, Helen McKean, Eamonn Phelan and, of course, the man himself, Gill Hess.

  About the Author

  Claudia was born in Dublin, where she still lives and works as an author and actress. She’s a Sunday Times top ten bestselling author in the UK and a number one bestselling author in Ireland, selling more than half a million copies in paperback alone.

  To date, Claudia has published fourteen novels, five of which have been optioned, two for movies, two for TV and one for a stage play. She’s currently hassling producers for a walk-on role, and is hoping they might even let her keep the costumes for free.

  @carrollclaudia

  @claudiacarrollbooks

  Hi there,

  Huge thanks for picking up The Women of Primrose Square, and I only hope you enjoyed reading it? I had an absolutely ball writing the book – it was magic to be able to revisit the location where The Secrets of Primrose Square is set, and to introduce a whole new set of characters.

  So where did the idea for this book come from? Well, now, there’s a tale!

  At my (scarily advanced) hour of life, I find I’m going to a lot of birthday parties, ‘with a naught at the end of them’, and that’s where the idea for this little book baby came from.

  I had an idea: supposing your family were throwing a surprise fiftieth birthday party for you and pretty much everyone you’d ever met in your entire life had been invited? But because the surprise was so well hidden, you genuinely thought everyone had forgotten about you. Meaning that you strolled home to an empty house completely unsuspecting and looking forward to a peaceful evening alone – only to open the door, click the lights on – and realise you were suddenly front stage and centre, starring in your very own mini-drama.

  And that’s when the character of Frank came in – a shy, unassuming man who’s effectively been living a lie for most of his life. Except of course that he’s outed in the most public way imaginable on the night of his special birthday. Poor Frank! I adored writing this character and then Violet Hardcastle, who lives just down the road, seemed like the perfect foil. Violet just flew off the page – but then, I always think, no one is born nasty and horrible, are they? It’s life that makes people like that, isn’t it? So I was dying to work out why Violet was as – well, just as vile as she was to all around her. What had happened to the poor lady that moulded her that way? Then there’s the character of Emily Dunne, who made a cameo appearance in The Secrets of Primrose Square and who, quite literally, nagged at this author until her story could be told in full. Emily is a recovering alcoholic and her journey on the twelve-step programme was one I was absolutely dying to explore.

  And if you’d like to know a little bit more about the background to The Women of Primrose Square, here’s a little suggestion.

  We all love to read, don’t we? And what’s even better than a great book? The inside scoop on one – the DVD extras, if you like, the bits that only a select few dedicated readers get to read. Which is why the good folk at Bonnier Towers came up with an absolute diamond of an idea: my very own Readers’ Club.

  I’m ridiculously excited to be a part of My Readers’ Club. It’s full of exclusive content you’ll love, and my job is to make sure that if you sign up, you won’t regret it. Anyway, head over to www.bit.ly/ClaudiaCarroll if you’d like to join and it goes without saying all your information is entirely confidential.

  I really do hope you’ll enjoy the little extra treats I’ve included in My Readers’ Club and till then, feel free to review the book on Amazon or Goodreads, or on social media – because it’s always good to talk books, isn’t it?

  Big thanks and warmest wishes,

  Claudia xxxxx

  If you enjoyed

  why not return to the neighbourhood in . . .

  First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Zaffre

  This ebook edition published in 2019 by

  ZAFFRE

  80–81 Wimpole St, London, W1G 9RE

  Copyright © Claudia Carroll, 2019

  Cover design by Alexandra Allden.

  Cover illustration and title type by Sara Mulvanny

  The moral right of Claudia Carroll to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright,

  Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN: 978-1-785-76775-3

  Hardback ISBN: 978-1-785-76778-4

  Trade paperback ISBN: 978-1-785-76777-7

  This ebook was produced by IDSUK (Data Connection) Ltd

  Zaffre is an imprint of Bonnier Books UK

  www.bonnierbooks.co.uk