Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Praise for A Season for Second Chances
- Also by Jenny Bayliss
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Discussion Guide
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
They waved Seb and Andrew off, Nory wrapping her arms around herself against the cold.
“What about you, Nory? Fancy another drink?”
“Not really. I’ve got to open the shop tomorrow—only two Sundays left till Christmas! But you two go on.”
Ameerah puffed out her cheeks. “To be honest, I’m trying to kid my body into thinking it’s still twenty, but it isn’t working. It’s taken me all this week to recover from last week. When did we get so old?”
Despite being bitterly cold, it was a clear and lovely night, and the three of them decided to walk back to Mayfair and soak up the atmosphere. Central London was never quiet, but it was never so alive as at Christmas. High above the shops and the offices, Christmas trees twinkled in the windows of studio flats and apartments.
When Nory was little, she had dreamed of a life in London, of living practically in the sky, like the roof scene in Mary Poppins. Well, she had done it. And for the most part, it had lived up to expectation—though she was yet to meet a handsome singing chimney sweep named Bert. What she couldn’t have anticipated in her fantasies of escape was that, once she was ensconced in the big city, Hartmead would forever tug at her soul.
Thirty-seven
Sunday became Monday, and Monday became Tuesday. Nory’s days were busy, and her nights were long. Her mum texted, multiple times a day, with banal anecdotes or queries, which Nory knew was her way of being supportive and keeping an eye on her daughter without actually raising the subject that they both knew was on Nory’s mind.
She didn’t hear from Thomas, and she was grateful for it; he’d asked her to stay away from his friend and she hadn’t, and look what had happened. She half wanted to message Thomas to give her side of things, but what would be the point? He was always poised to think the worst of her and now she had given him a carte blanche.
“What does Thom say?” she asked her mum on Tuesday night’s phone call. “I’m guessing by now he knows that something went down.”
“Don’t you worry about your brother, you know he loves you,” said her mum diplomatically.
“Does he?”
Her mum blustered. “What kind of a question is that? Of course he loves you. You’re his sister, we’re a family. I do not want to hear any more of this nonsense from you, young lady. Your brother would throw himself in front of a bus for you.”
“Only so that he could haunt me for eternity.”
Her mum tsked. “I give up.”