A Bumpy Year
Chapters (49)
Cover
Also by Olivia Spooner
A Way Back to Happy
A BUMPY YEAR
Olivia Spooner
AN IMPRINT OF HEAD OF ZEUS
Copyright
First published in the UK in 2022 by Head of Zeus Ltd, part of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc.
Copyright © Olivia Spooner, 2022
The moral right of Olivia Spooner to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (PB): 9781800249516
ISBN (E): 9781800249493
Cover design: Beth Yirtaw
Head of Zeus Ltd
First Floor East
5–8 Hardwick Street
London EC1R 4RG
Contents
Welcome Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Acknowledgements
About the Author
An Invitation from the Publisher
Dedication
To Mike
1
My heels dig into the earth as I step across the neatly clipped grass towards my friend. “Boss suspects something,” I rasp, arriving at the park bench. It’s like I’ve been holding my breath all day and need to get air flowing into my lungs again.
Emma frowns. She looks so comfortable sitting there in her leggings and T-shirt. Hair down. Face make-up free.
“I thought you were going to tell her last week?” she says.
Tugging the waistband of my work trousers higher, I sit next to my friend, kick off my shoes and immediately compare our stomachs. Em must be twice the size and she’s only a month further along. Not that I’m jealous or anything. The longer I can pretend I’m not up the duff, the better.
“She’s in a bad mood about this big project we’re working on,” I mutter. “Our client in Tokyo is threatening to pull out and I have to fly over there next week to ‘stroke his ego’, as Tash puts it.” I pause for breath. “Bloody Tokyo.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Japan,” Emma murmurs. She stares at her son, Freddie, who clambers up the slide in the playground, sits down on the platform, places his feet on the top rail of the ladder and leaps off, landing on the ground with a thump. It strikes me as a large and fairly terrifying jump for a recently turned five-year-old.
“Isn’t he supposed to do that the other way around?” I ask.