The Single Mums' Picnic Club

by Jennifer Joyce

  A summer of new beginnings…

  Katie thought she had the perfect family life by the sea – until her husband left her for another woman, abandoning her and their two children! She knows it’s finally time to move on but she’s unsure where to begin…

  Frankie is shocked when gorgeous dog-walker Alex asks her on a date! As a single mum with her own business she struggles to put herself first, but maybe she’s ready to follow her heart?

  George is used to raising her son on her own – but now he’s at nursery, her life feels empty. So when she meets Katie and Frankie at the beach, she realises that her talent for rustling up delicious picnics could be the perfect distraction!

  But of course, life isn’t always a beach and as secrets begin to surface the three women’s lives are about to be turned upside-down…

  A cosy and charming romance set at the English seaside, perfect for fans of Trisha Ashley and Caroline Roberts.

  Also by Jennifer Joyce

  The Wedding that Changed Everything

  The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts

  The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea

  The Wedding Date

  The Mince Pie Mix-Up

  The Single Mums’ Picnic Club

  Jennifer Joyce

  ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

  Copyright

  An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

  Copyright © Jennifer Joyce 2018

  Jennifer Joyce asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue record for 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.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  E-book Edition © June 2018 ISBN: 978-0-00-828143-4

  JENNIFER JOYCE

  is a writer of romantic comedies. She’s been scribbling down bits of stories for as long as she can remember, graduating from a pen to a typewriter and then an electronic typewriter. And she felt like the bee’s knees typing on that. She now writes her books on a laptop (which has a proper delete button and everything). Jennifer lives in Oldham, Greater Manchester, with her husband Chris and their two daughters, Rianne and Isobel, plus their Jack Russell, Luna. When she isn’t writing, Jennifer likes to make things – she’ll use any excuse to get her craft box out! She spends far too much time on Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram.

  You can find out more about Jennifer on her blog at jenniferjoycewrites.co.uk, on Twitter at @writer_jenn and on Facebook at facebook.com/jenniferjoycewrites

  For three amazing ladies in my life: my mum, June and my daughters, Rianne and Isobel.

  Contents

  Cover

  Blurb

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Author Bio

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Excerpt

  Endpages

  About the Publisher

  Chapter One

  Katie

  ‘What do you mean, you don’t like cheese sandwiches?’ Katie blinked at her daughter, unable to comprehend the information she had just been given. ‘Since when?’

  Hadn’t Lizzie polished off the double Gloucester with onion and chive from the cheese board just a few days ago? The double Gloucester with onion and chive that Katie had been looking forward to? She’d deliberately left it until last and the deep disappointment at finding the empty wrapper in the fridge was still there, as was the annoyance, bordering on rage, that her children seemed unable to use the flipping kitchen bin to dispose of empty wrappers. The whole kitchen showed their abuse of the family home, from the puddle of milk seeping towards the edge of the countertop to the dirty breakfast dishes dotted around the room; a bowl plonked on top of the microwave, a plate spilling toast crumbs on the table, a butter-slicked knife smearing grease on the floor. Katie despaired, but she was hardly a domesticated goddess herself right now, as evidenced when she gathered up the dirty plates, bowls and cutlery and yanked opened the dishwasher. It was full. And the contents inside were far from clean.

  Lizzie dumped the offending clingfilm-wrapped cheese sandwich down on the kitchen counter, missing the milk puddle by mere millimetres. ‘Can’t I have Nutella instead?’

  Ha! If only. Katie had discovered the empty jar in the cupboard during the early hours, when she’d been in dire need of a stress-generated snack, and had almost howled with fury. She suspected her oldest child was the culprit of this particular crime, so she’d enacted her revenge by wolfing down three segments of the boy’s squirrelled-away Chocolate Orange. Elliot hadn’t clocked the theft yet so, having calmed down since her hunger-induced haze of rage, Katie was hoping to replace the pieces before he did.

  ‘It’s cheese or nothing, I’m afraid.’ After dumping the dirty dishes in the sink, Katie grabbed the sandwich and dropped it back into Lizzie’s open Tupperware box. ‘You’re lucky we had any bread in for sandwiches at all.’

  It was January now – the first day back to school after the festive break – but Katie was still submerged in the fog of Christmas, where routine things like grocery shopping flew out of the window and more relaxed eating habits became the norm; five-a-day now related to different versions of chocolate treats, and grazing replaced structured mealtimes. The bunch of blackened bananas lounging in the fruit bowl hadn’t enticed anybody while there was an unhealthy supply of festive indulgences on offer.

  ‘Mu-um!’

  Lizzie’s protests about the cheese sandwich situation were swallowed by the holler of her fifteen-year-old brother from the top of the stairs. Katie winced. Had he disc
overed his depleted Chocolate Orange already? She’d planned to dash to the supermarket after her morning’s appointment (she desperately needed to stock the kitchen with foodstuff that contained vitamins after two weeks of eating crap anyway) and replace the nabbed segments before Elliot noticed, but it looked like she’d been rumbled. She should have nipped the chocolate-for-breakfast in the bud as soon as Boxing Day was over, but she’d rather enjoyed indulging too, to be honest.

  ‘Where’s my tie?’

  Katie released a giant sigh of relief. She was still safe.

  For now.

  ‘Didn’t you put it away safe in your underwear drawer at the end of term? Like I told you to?’

  Lizzie sniggered as she clicked the top of her Tupperware lid into place. ‘Elliot doesn’t even have an underwear drawer anymore, Mum. Most of his clothes are on the floor and any that have made it into drawers are in shoved in at random. When was the last time you saw his room?’

  She was in it only a matter of hours ago, actually, creeping around using the torch on her phone to guide her, but she’d been so delirious with hunger, so set on her mission, she hadn’t stopped to survey the state of her teenage son’s bedroom.

  She didn’t tell Lizzie this.

  Life didn’t used to be like this for Katie. She didn’t used to sneak around the house, hunting sugar fixes in the dead of night because she was stressed and unable to sleep. She hadn’t felt like a harassed madwoman back then, one who always seemed to be on the verge of tears or an empty Nutella jar away from throwing back her head and howling. Eighteen months ago, her life was pretty perfect. She’d enjoyed her job as a bookkeeper at the haulage firm she’d worked at for most of her adult life, she’d had a fantastic husband who was an amazing father to their son and daughter, and they had a gorgeous Georgian property on the seafront of Clifton-on-Sea, a small seaside town in the North West of England. Life was idyllic, with the promenade across the road and the beach beyond, the cliffs just a few minutes’ walk away with their stunning views, the harbour with its restaurants and fresh fish and chips at the other end of town. And the house was everything she’d ever dreamed of when she’d imagined starting married life with Rob; large, airy rooms with high ceilings and original fireplaces, a homely kitchen with a sofa at one end and high-gloss cabinets and worktops at the other, and a master bedroom overlooking the sea. Yes, life had turned out perfectly for Katie. Okay, so her boss – who also happened to be her father-in-law – thought it was appropriate to refer to the female members of staff as ‘birds’, and she’d barely caught sight of Rob since he’d started an introduction to French course at the community centre, but she was happy. She’d thought Rob was happy too, until she learned it wasn’t just French he’d been introduced to at the community centre, but the stunning, stretchmark-free and legs-up-to-here tutor. French, it transpired, really was the language of love, and Katie had been dropped like a hot pomme de terre.

  Bastards, the pair of them.

  ‘It isn’t there!’ Elliot was back at the top of the stairs, yelling down an update on the tie situation.

  Katie dropped the milk-soaked kitchen roll into the bin after making sure she’d mopped up every last drop and headed out into the hallway to peer up the stairs. ‘It must be in your room somewhere. Have a good look.’

  Elliot sighed, long and hard. ‘I have looked. It isn’t there.’

  ‘It must be. Look again. Properly. But please hurry. We have to leave in…’ Katie craned her neck to look at the kitchen clock. With a yelp, she dashed back into the kitchen to rifle through the basket of clean washing that had yet to be sorted into piles, locating a ruffled blouse that she could get away with wearing without having to iron it. Katie – and the kids – had to be out of the house in less than five minutes and she wasn’t even dressed yet. Wasn’t parenting supposed to get easier once the kids gained a bit of independence? She couldn’t remember feeling this frazzled when Elliot and Lizzie were babies, but then she’d had youth on her side back then. And a husband to share the load. Rob and his infidelity were the gift that kept on giving.

  ‘Mu-um!’ Elliot was back at the top of the stairs before Katie had even stepped foot out of the kitchen with the blouse in hand. ‘It isn’t up here.’

  ‘It must be.’ Unless Elliot’s tie had grown legs and scuttled away (many objects in the May household had a tendency to sprout limbs and hide themselves away, mostly remote controls, the pens Katie kept in her handbag, and every single teaspoon they owned).

  ‘I’ve looked everywhere. It isn’t in my room.’

  ‘Where else would it be?’ Katie didn’t hang around for an answer. She needed to throw herself into some smart-ish clothes and get the hell out of the house before they were all late. She was in the middle of wrestling on a pair of black trousers (they’d fit before Christmas, she was sure. She really needed to cut out the sweet stuff) when Lizzie poked her head around her bedroom door, dangling a bottle-green tie with the school’s crest embroidered on the front between her fingers.

  ‘Where did you find it?’ Lizzie and Elliot attended the same school and wore the same uniform, but Katie knew the tie belonged to her son as it was still knotted for ease (or laziness, to be more accurate).

  ‘On top of the fridge.’

  Katie opened her mouth to question why Elliot’s tie would be on top of the fridge, but it was a useless enquiry. She wasn’t sure why half the things happened in this house any more.

  ‘Great. Thanks. Can you give it to Elliot and get your stuff ready? We need to leave. Now.’ Katie yanked the trousers over her hips, ignoring the sound of ripping threads, and prayed she’d be able to zip them up.

  By some miracle, Katie managed to coax the zip to fasten on her trousers and throw on her blouse while only overrunning by a couple of minutes. Lizzie was already waiting in the car as she ran from the house, yanking a hairbrush through her shoulder-length hair, with Elliot – now wearing his tie and with a slice of toast clamped between his teeth – throwing himself into the front passenger seat as Katie started the engine.

  ‘I’d rather get the train.’ Elliot tugged at the triangle of toast and chomped on it as though the bread had offended him somehow.

  ‘You can get the train home later, and I won’t be offering chauffer service every day. It’s only because I need to go into town anyway.’ Katie wound down her window despite the freezing temperature outside. She’d grown up in the small seaside town, but she never took her surroundings for granted, and the smell of the salty air still filled her with joy. She’d fallen in love with the house that would become her family home because of its large kitchen, its en suite master bedroom and the beautiful period fireplace in the living room, but mostly she’d fallen for its seafront location. She would never grow tired of throwing open the curtains in the morning to be greeted by the golden sand and the rippling sea beyond. It was a breathtaking sight, even on a gloomy January morning.

  ‘Why are you going into town so early anyway?’ Lizzie asked from the back seat. ‘Have you got another interview? Or are you signing on? Are we skint?’

  ‘We’re not skint. We’re fine.’ Coping, at any rate. Rob was still covering his half of the mortgage and providing for his kids (he hadn’t abandoned them completely, no matter what Katie thought of him) and they’d had a bit of extra income from their holiday let over the festive period. Katie had stuck it out at her father-in-law’s haulage firm for a couple of months after Rob left her, but eventually she’d felt she had no choice but to leave as she felt herself turning into a paranoid wreck. Who’d known about the affair? Her father-in-law, probably, but what about Lesley in payroll? Or Nancy down on reception? She’d handed in her notice, sure she’d be able to find a new job quickly with her qualifications and experience.

  She was still job-hunting, more than a year later.

  ‘I have an appointment, that’s all.’ Katie didn’t mention the appointment was with her solicitor as she didn’t want Lizzie worrying about divorce proceedings. ‘Ja
ck! Hello!’ She waved out of the window as her neighbour staggered out of his house with a child pulling on his hand as he tried to manoeuvre a buggy onto the path with the other. An older child was already flinging open the gate, even as his father instructed him not to. Katie flashed him a look of solidarity.

  ‘How’s the boiler getting on?’ Jack had stooped over to chat through the car’s open window, but he straightened almost immediately as his eldest child took the opportunity to bolt. ‘Leo! Wait there! Don’t go round the corner!’ Jack stooped again once his son slowed down. Leo came to a complete standstill to examine what Katie suspected was a splatter of seagull poo on the pavement. ‘Sorry. First day back to school chaos.’

  Katie grimaced. ‘Been there myself. Surprised we made it out of the house at all.’ She met Jack’s eye and they shared a wry smile. ‘Anyway, yes, the boiler is fantastic, thanks to you.’

  Katie had been in a bit of a flap when the boiler had decided to take a break from its duties a few days ago, but Jack had stepped in, repairing the aging beast and insisting on only charging for parts (neighbours’ rates, apparently).

  ‘You’re a life saver.’

  Jack laughed and shook his head. ‘I don’t know about that.’

  ‘We’re all very grateful, anyway.’ She looked at her kids. They didn’t seem particularly grateful; Elliot and Lizzie were fiddling with their phones (nutrition wasn’t the only thing that had slipped over the school holidays. The pair had become superglued to their technology since the end of the autumn term), oblivious to the conversation taking part. ‘We’d better get going. Don’t want to be late and I think Leo’s about to…’ Jack turned as Katie’s gaze paused down the street, where Leo was crouched, finger poised to prod at the splatter of seagull droppings.

  ‘Leo! No!’ Jack, still clinging onto his daughter’s hand and the buggy, tore off down the street as Katie pulled away from the kerb. If the traffic was kind this morning, they wouldn’t be too late.