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Back A Place to Call Home Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. Epilogue
  58. Author’s Note
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. More from Fay Keenan
  61. About the Author
  62. About Boldwood Books

‘Lucky you,’ Rachel snorted. ‘Tell me, does she stop moaning long enough to enjoy it?’

‘Only when she falls asleep but then she doesn’t stop snoring – though, of course, you haven’t heard that from me!’ Holly laughed. She pulled Harry up onto her knee and gave him a cuddle. ‘Look after Mum for me until next time,’ she said into his thick blond hair.

‘I will,’ Harry said solemnly.

Holly smiled. She was still thinking about Rachel’s advice to seize the day as she walked back to her flat. Perhaps she had been a little cautious and land-locked lately. Maybe it was time to live a little dangerously.

11

Much to her surprise, when Holly checked her online bookings for massages the following week, she found that Charlie had booked himself in for one on Thursday evening. He’s probably going to claim it on expenses, she thought, then chided herself for her cynicism. Despite Charlie’s political party affiliations, she was sure not everything came down to money.

She cashed up quickly that afternoon, and about ten minutes before Charlie was due to arrive she found herself upstairs applying a little more deodorant (a freebie from an organic fragrance company that was trying to court her business) and running a brush through her hair. Ruefully, she realised she wouldn’t be doing this if she had any other client coming. She didn’t want to question her motivations too closely, though.

Just as she was about to head back down to the shop and light the candle in the massage room, she heard a muffled meow from behind her.

‘Hey, Arthur,’ she said fondly as she turned around. ‘Are you hungry? Oh, I see you’ve brought your own food tonight.’

There, in the ginger cat’s jaws was a large field mouse. Holly was generally unfazed by Arthur’s tendency to hunt and bring her home some of his catches, reasoning that it was par for the course when you owned, or were indeed owned by, a cat, although she would have preferred it if he finished them off beforehand – she’d had to rescue rodents and even small rabbits from the dark corners of her flat on a few occasions and it was quite tedious and time-consuming.

Unfortunately, this time Arthur’s catch was large, vocal and very much alive. And as she strolled towards Arthur to try to shoo him back down the stairs and out of his cat flap, he dropped the mouse and shot into her bedroom.

‘Great. Thanks so much, Arthur!’