‘So Jessica’s just a friend?’
She sensed rather than saw him look at her. ‘Just a friend. She’s helped me out, as I’ve said, and she’s fun to be around, but there’s nothing more between us. What made you so sure there was?’
‘You both called it Primrose Park. I guessed that you must know each other, because I don’t know anyone else who’s made that mistake.’
‘It’s not called Primrose Park?’
Cat shook her head. ‘It’s Fairview Park. It’s not even on Primrose Terrace.’
‘Well I know that,’ Mark said. ‘I just took Jessica’s word for it. I wonder what other lies she’s told me. Maybe her friend’s not really a producer at all. Her whole life could be a fabrication; she could have earned all her money through drug trafficking or money laundering. She could be sending me off to London to be murdered.’
Cat laughed. ‘She got the name of the park wrong. It’s not exactly a crime.’
‘But look what it led to. At the very least, it’s delayed things between us. You thought I was unavailable.’
Cat stopped walking, her breath faltering. Valentino, sensing the change in atmosphere, started barking, and Cat automatically dropped to her knees to soothe the dog. She took her time, stroking each Westie in turn, then pushed herself back to standing. ‘You’re available?’
Mark grinned. ‘That depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On whether you are.’
Cat narrowed her eyes. ‘I’d like to get to know you,’ she said. ‘And not just looking after Chips, though of course I’ll do that. But more than that. If you’d like to?’
He held her gaze, smiled down at her in a way that made his features seem softer, the side of his face bathed orange by the sun. ‘So you are available. Good. When I’m back from London, let’s do things properly. Lunch, or dinner.’
‘OK,’ she said, her breath rushing back in a whoosh of elation. ‘That sounds great.’ She started walking again, unable to stay still a moment longer, her fingers dancing inside her pockets. The sun was nearly at the horizon, turning a fiery, coral red, the remaining people fading to silhouettes as they strolled, or jogged, or stood watching the sea.
Cat, Mark and the four dogs walked in contented silence, Coco trotting through the waves, Chips chasing new sights and smells, then running back to her master. Cat wanted to take a snapshot, to preserve it and play it over and over on a loop. She wondered how long the perfection could last, then pushed the thought to the back of her mind.
They moved away from the sea, to where the sand was replaced by uneven shingle. Mark offered Cat his elbow, and she put her arm through his, wrapping her hand round the soft leather of his jacket. They reached the edge of the beach, but he didn’t pull his arm loose. Instead he slowed his step, prolonging the short journey back to Primrose Terrace. Perhaps, thought Cat, realizing how dangerous it was to hope, he wanted the moment go on for ever, too…
Acknowledgements
Huge thanks to my fantastic editor Kate Bradley, who took a chance on me and has been an amazing supporter, guide and friend from our very first meeting.
Thank you to Mary Chamberlain, my copy editor, for making sense of my words with patience and precision.
Thanks to the whole HarperCollins team, to Charlotte Brabbin, Amy Winchester, Kim Young, Katie Moss, Martha Ashby and Charlotte Ledger.
Thank you to the designer of my wonderful covers, Alexandra Allden.
For what is supposed to be such a solitary business, I have had a bucket-load of advice, encouragement and general brilliance from lots of authors along the way. I have to mention Alexandra Brown, Lucy Robinson, Miranda Dickinson, Holly Martin, Lisa Dickenson, Belinda Jones, Hannah Beckerman, Sarah Perry, Ali McNamara, RJ Ellory and Elly Griffiths. I am in awe of you all.
Thank you to Team Novelicious – I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be here without you. Especially Kirsty Greenwood and Cesca Major, who should also be in the previous paragraph, and who have been better cheerleaders than Kirsten Dunst.
To all the book bloggers I’ve chatted and squealed and tweeted about books with. Thank you for chatting and tweeting about mine.
Thank you to Katy Jones, who set me on course.
Thank you to my friends and family – to Emily and Joe for all the advice, to Tina, Debbie, Judy and cousin Rachel for being so enthusiastic about my stories, and to Tom, Sandra, Jon, Lisa, Tim and Suzanne. To Lynsey, who has been a huge support – I can’t wait for your book! To Kate and Tim for all the laughs, for Crete and the Hibiscus. To Kate Gaustad, my BFF for over 20 years, who will disown me for calling her that.
To the best teamies ever – Chris ‘The Rottweiler’ Williams, Well Done Ben Dunne, and Anne (bah) Tansley Thomas – who put up with my aspiring author stories on a daily basis, and now have to cope with all the published author ones too. This is BONKERS.
To Katy Chilvers, for being possibly more excited than me, and for helping with my romantic hero research. Aramis has a lot to answer for.
To anyone who reads my book – you have helped make my dream come true. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy it!
Thank you to my sister, Lucy, who wrote the best murder mystery (aged 12) and gave me something to aspire to. Thank you to Mum and Dad for their unfailing support and inspiration; for reading everything and giving me unbiased, constructive feedback and entirely biased encouragement. I feel very lucky that I get to be your daughter.
Thank you to David, who has believed in me from the very first word, through all the hard bits and the fun bits and the champagne, and is the most amazing person I have ever met. I wouldn’t have the opportunity to write these acknowledgements without you.
And finally, to the dogs I have known and loved. To Max and Timmy, who let me share their basket, to Huey and Ella and Humph, to beautiful, mischievous Wags and to Pete (Worst Dog) and his fear of the wooden hippo. You won’t be able to read this, but you’re all in there somewhere.
Read on for an exciting sneak peek into the ongoing story of the residents of Primrose Terrace and their lovable pooches in…Sunshine and Spaniels.
From the park, Cat could see Captain and his perky-eared Papillion, Paris, on the veranda of the Pavilion café, talking to the owner George. And she could see Joe through the glass, helping to clear up after the Pooches and Puppies Picnic. Cat really had to thank him for all he’d done. She’d found herself doing that quite a bit lately, and was starting to think she would have to change her opinion of him as a grumpy sod. She let Chips go ahead of her, but a dog started barking behind them and, intrigued, Chips changed course.
‘Chips,’ Cat called, ‘Come on, let’s go inside.’ But the Border Collie was intent on following the barking.
A small, sandy-haired dog was haring across the grass towards Chips, running as fast as its tiny legs could carry it. At the last minute it jumped, its floppy ears flying, and came to an untidy halt next to the Collie.
It continued to make a high, squeaking noise like a broken bicycle horn, and turned around and around in small circles.
Cat approached the puppy, cautiously at first and then, when it seemed intent on making itself dizzy, she pulled it into her arms, lifted it up and stroked its head, calming it. It was a Cocker Spaniel, and Cat thought it could only be about six months old. She turned its red collar around and found a heart-shaped name tag. Olaf, it said, followed by a phone number.
Cat scanned the park. It was busy, the grass dotted with groups kicking footballs and having picnics, but Cat could see none that looked frantic, as if they’d lost someone important. Olaf. That name was familiar, and not just because it belonged to a snowman she’d heard about non-stop at the nursery. The nursery – that was it! She remembered Alison telling little Emma to say goodbye to her dog; the little girl fighting back tears.
‘Where’s Emma?’ she asked Olaf, who was shivering, depleted of exertion and confidence. ‘Where’s your family?’
‘I think you might be looking for these two?’ It w
as Joe, ushering a couple of young girls towards her.
‘Olaf!’ the older one squealed. They were both crying loud, unstoppable tears, and looked ragged despite their bright sundresses and sandals.
‘Is he yours?’ Cat held the puppy out to the older girl. She recognized four-year-old Emma, and there was something familiar about her sister too, despite her being too old to attend nursery. ‘Hey,’ she said gently, ‘there’s no need to cry. He’s had an adventure and now he’s tired, but he’s fine.’
‘And you did well to keep up with him,’ Joe added. ‘I saw how fast he was going. Maybe you two need to think about careers in athletics.’
The older girl started to sniff loudly, restraining her tears, reaching out to stroke her pet. Cat thought she was probably about ten or eleven, skinny, with long, flyaway mousy hair and freckles. Emma was still sobbing, one hand gripped around her older sister’s wrist.
‘You’re Emma, aren’t you?’ Cat asked.
The little girl nodded through her tears.
‘I’m Cat, from the nursery. Do you remember me?’
Again she nodded, then gulped and wiped her eyes with her hands. ‘Alison made you leave because you were too funny.’
Cat tried to hide her grin, which wasn’t easy when Joe was rolling his eyes.
‘Alison and I weren’t always best friends, Emma, but I loved all of you, and I miss you.’
‘We miss you too,’ Emma said. ‘And your puppy.’
‘But you’ve got one of your own. Olaf. Is this your sister?’
The older girl gave her a small smile. ‘I’m Lizzie. I’m ten.’
‘Nice to meet you Lizzie. I’m Cat, and this is Joe. Were you bringing Olaf to the park?’
They both nodded, Lizzie’s eyes cast down to the ground. ‘Mum said could we take him out, because she’s busy with Henry. That’s our brother.’
‘He’s only ten months,’ Emma added, ‘and a handful.’
‘Ssshhh,’ hissed Lizzie. ‘Mum said not to say.’
‘Your mum told you not to say anything?’
‘About how stressed she is,’ Lizzie blurted, then clapped both hands over her mouth. Cat could see her eyes fill up with tears again.
’That’s OK,’ Cat said reassuringly. ‘I won’t say anything. Do you want me to come with you and explain about Olaf to your mum?’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, it’s OK. We can take him back. Mum doesn’t need to know he got off the lead.’
‘You took him off!’ Emma squealed.
‘I really don’t mind,’ Cat said. ‘Our event’s done now, and I’d like to say hello to your mum again. Do you live close by?’
‘Number twelve Primrose Terrace.’ Emma said proudly.
‘Of course!’ Cat said. That’s where she remembered the older girl from – she’d passed them in the street on more than one occasion.
‘What?’ Lizzie said, her slender browns frowning.
‘I live on Primrose Terrace too. Oh this is perfect. I’ll just go and get Chips, and we’ll all walk back together.’
‘Of course,’ Joe said brightly. ‘We can’t get away with not knowing about one of our neighbours, can we?’
Cat shot him a sideways glance, handed Olaf back to Lizzie, and went in search of Polly and Chips.
Click here to pre-order now 978-0-00-813521-8
And let the fun continue…keep an eye out for further adventures from the people and pooches of Primrose Terrace, coming soon!
It’s autumn and Primrose Terrace has never looked lovelier. But things are far from rosy for the Barkers at No.8. Cat’s been walking their pair of gorgeous golden retrievers and she’s noticed that things are distinctly chilly between owners Juliette and Will. For Cat, things are coming to a head with Mark, but is he the right man for her? Especially as she is getting closer to flatmate Joe. Cat thinks she must be able to do something to stop autumn falling on the Barkers’ marriage, but is there anything she can do to resolve her feelings about Mark?
Raincoats and Retrievers is the third part of a serialized novel told in four parts – all set in Primrose Terrace.
Click here to pre-order now 978-0-00-813522-5
Christmas is coming to Primrose Terrace, Pooch Promenade is doing brilliantly and Cat has made lots of new friends in the street, both dogs and their owners. Life seems good. Things start to go badly when Cat learns something about Mark that she wishes she hadn’t. Then, when one of Ellen’s lovable schnauzers, Chalky, gets ill, it looks like this Christmas could be turning into a dog’s dinner. But Cat has never given up on anything in her life – and this is one Christmas that’s definitely worth saving…
Tinsel and Terriers is the fourth and final part of a serialized novel told in four parts – all set in Primrose Terrace.
Click here to pre-order now 978-0-00-813523-2
And the full Primrose Terrace story – A CHRISTMAS TAIL, complete with adorable Westies, Spaniels, Retrievers and festive Terriers – is available to pre-order now!
*A Christmas Tail was first published as a four-part serial set in Primrose Terrace*
Click here to buy 978-0-00-813602-4
About the Author
Cressy was born in South East London surrounded by books and with a cat named after Lawrence of Arabia. She studied English at the University of East Anglia and now lives in Norwich with her husband David.
Cressy’s favourite things include terrifying ghost stories, lava lamps and romantic heroes, though not necessarily at the same time. She doesn’t (yet) have a dog of her own, but feeds her love vicariously through friends’ pets, and was once chased around a field by a soaking wet, very mischievous Border Collie called Wags.
When she isn’t writing, Cressy spends her spare time reading, returning to London or exploring the beautiful Norfolk coastline.
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF, UK
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
Wellies and Westies Page 10
