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Chapters (59)
  1. Bad Friends
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. AFTER: DECEMBER
  6. BEFORE: JUNE
  7. Chapter One
  8. Chapter Two
  9. Chapter Three
  10. Chapter Four
  11. Chapter Five
  12. Chapter Six
  13. Chapter Seven
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Chapter Fourteen
  21. Chapter Fifteen
  22. Chapter Sixteen
  23. Chapter Seventeen
  24. Chapter Eighteen
  25. Chapter Nineteen
  26. Chapter Twenty
  27. Chapter Twenty-One
  28. Chapter Twenty-Two
  29. Chapter Twenty-Three
  30. Chapter Twenty-Four
  31. Chapter Twenty-Five
  32. Chapter Twenty-Six
  33. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  34. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  35. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  36. Chapter Thirty
  37. Chapter Thirty-One
  38. Chapter Thirty-Two
  39. Chapter Thirty-Three
  40. Chapter Thirty-Four
  41. Chapter Thirty-Five
  42. Chapter Thirty-Six
  43. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  44. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  45. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  46. Chapter Forty
  47. Chapter Forty-One
  48. Chapter Forty-Two
  49. Chapter Forty-Three
  50. Chapter Forty-Four
  51. Chapter Forty-Five
  52. Chapter Forty-Six
  53. Chapter Forty-Seven
  54. Chapter Forty-Eight
  55. A CONVERSATION WITH CLAIRE SEEBER
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  57. About the Author
  58. By the same author:
  59. About the Publisher

In the evening my dad and Jenny played Scrabble while I curled up in front of the fire, wishing Digby was here to keep my feet warm. Dangerous Liaisons was on BBC2, Michelle Pfeiffer being all winsome and chaste under the dastardly Vicomte Sébastien de Valmont’s scrutiny. Listlessly I reached for the Quality Street.

‘It’s beyond my control,’ Valmont said, his lips very red against his pale powdered face. A shiver went down my spine. Where had I heard that recently? Valmont said it again. ‘It’s beyond my control.’

I changed the channel before Sébastien killed Michelle by breaking her heart in two.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Eight

‘You’re late.’ The woman with complicated highlights tapped something into her computer. ‘And you’ve changed your hair,’ she noted accusingly, handing back my passport. Her voice was rather whiny and nasal.

‘Er, yes.’ Self-conscious now, I pushed my mop behind my ears. ‘A few times since that photo, actually. I needed a – a change, you know.’

Streaky looked entirely disinterested. ‘As I said, you’re late. There’s not –’ dramatic pause, ‘no, not a single seat left.’

I stared at her aghast. She was so orange, she reminded me of Charlie. ‘The traffic was terrible. We got stuck on the M25. There must be one seat, surely. I –’

‘Always allow plenty of time, we do say.’ The crown of her head was like a map of spaghetti junction in different blondes as she looked down at her screen.

‘So what does that mean, then – no seats?’ I asked nervously. She didn’t answer, her cerise talons tapping again. I watched the glamorous young couple at the First Class desk kissing, her fluffy cream jumper leaving hairs over his black T-shirted chest as she gazed at him adoringly. I couldn’t bear it if I fell at this last hurdle. Escape was on the horizon; they couldn’t stop me now.

‘It means,’ Streaky sniffed with disapproval, ‘it means, fortunately for you, you’ll be seated in Business.’

‘Business?’ I repeated foolishly. Oh, the joy. ‘It must be a sign.’

She eyed me suspiciously.

‘You know, like a good omen. I’m due a bit of luck.’

Streaky sniffed again as I gathered up my bits. ‘You’re lucky to get on this flight, that’s all I know. Gate fifty-eight. Closes in ten minutes.’

The girl at First Class played coquettishly with her gold earring as her man shouldered the heavy Vuitton bags. I tried not to notice that I was practically the only person in the whole airport alone.

The traffic-jam had made us so late that I’d insisted my father drop me outside.