by Annie Murray
‘Oh my . . .’ Elizabeth’s voice deepened with emotion. ‘Oh George – how very lovely.’
She turned to the other picture and gasped. The statue of Mars on Horseback, with his helmet and spear, rested on a fine-looking dining table. Standing to the left of it, in front of the table, was the boy; a round-faced, amiable and galumphing-looking boy. The moment George set eyes on him was when he had become sure without any doubt.
‘He’s you!’ Elizabeth said. She gazed at it. Gently, she began to laugh. ‘He’s the absolute image of you!’
George’s face broke open in delight. ‘He is rather, isn’t he?’
‘Oh my darling.’ She looked at him solemnly. ‘This is astonishing. You must go and see them – or invite them here.’
He laughed. ‘Well . . .we’ll see. One day at a time.’ He put the pictures away. Monty sat between them, looking idly from one to the other, wondering when the food was going to appear. George flicked him a piece of liquorice and Monty caught it perfectly, snapping into action.
‘Fancy a slice of pie?’ he said, into the calm.
‘I thought you’d never ask.’ Elizabeth raised her plastic cup and clacked it against his. ‘This is heaven, my darling – cheers.’
‘Go on, Lizzie,’ he said on a whim, only half meaning it. ‘Say you’ll marry me?’
‘No!’ She pretended to pout. ‘I won’t – but I will love you. Promise.’
He beamed at her. Life, eh? Each day seemed more full of wonder than the last in this new landscape he had come so far to find, which was the same old country, here all the time, waiting for him.
‘Cheers!’ he said and leaned to kiss her pink, air-cooled cheek.
Acknowledgements
Firstly, my thanks to Oxford Narrative Group for all the encouragement, company and fun along the way: Helen Matthews, Alison Knight, Rachel Norman, Kit de Waal, Helen Newdick, Benedicta Norel, Pat Whitehouse, John Vickers, Rebecca Watkins, Serena Appella, Paul Walton, and at Oxford Brookes University to James Hawes and Tobias Hill.
Also to the brilliant community of Leather Lane Writers.
I owe a debt of gratitude to my agent Darley Anderson for his support and enthusiasm for this book, and to Clare Wallace at the agency for her helpful comments.
At Pan Macmillan, a huge thank you to my editor Victoria Hughes-Williams for her patience and editorial insights, to Amber Burlinson for excellent copy-editing and to Jeremy Trevathan for going the extra mile.
Much gratitude to the Pan Macmillan reps who work so hard to get all our books out there – especially Keren Weston and Kate Bullows.
Also to Graham Wells of Summers Davis Antiques in Wallingford for taking the time to read and check the text.
And above all to my husband Martin – for loving support, terrible jokes, Bassett hounds and so very much more.
Apologies to the people of Blewbury to which Greenbury’s geographical location corresponds. However, all characters in this story are fictitious and any passing resemblances are entirely accidental.
If you would like to keep in touch:
Abi has a website: www.abioliver.co.uk
and is on Facebook: www.facebook.com/AbiWriterOliver
and on Twitter: Abi Oliver @AbiWriterOliver
About the Author
Abi Oliver has spent much of her life in the Thames Valley. She studied at Oxford and London Universities, has worked for a charity, as a nurse, on Indian Railways and as a writer. She has also raised four children and lives in Purley-on-Thames. This is her first novel as Abi Oliver.
First published 2017 by Macmillan
This electronic edition published 2017 by Macmillan
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
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www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-4472-8401-7
Copyright © Abi Oliver 2017
Cover illustrations © Sara Mulvanny
The right of Abi Oliver to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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