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Back One Enchanted Evening Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. The Grand Masquerade Ball
  5. Five Months Earlier . . .
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. September 1936
  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. October 1936
  26. Chapter Nineteen
  27. Chapter Twenty
  28. Chapter Twenty-one
  29. November 1936
  30. Chapter Twenty-two
  31. December 1936
  32. Chapter Twenty-three
  33. Chapter Twenty-four
  34. Chapter Twenty-five
  35. Chapter Twenty-six
  36. Chapter Twenty-seven
  37. Chapter Twenty-eight
  38. Chapter Twenty-nine
  39. Chapter Thirty
  40. Chapter Thirty-one
  41. Chapter Thirty-two
  42. Chapter Thirty-three
  43. Chapter Thirty-four
  44. Chapter Thirty-five
  45. Epilogue
  46. A New Year
  47. Extract from Anton Du Beke’s next novel’
  48. Acknowledgements
  49. About the Author
  50. Letter from Author

Mrs Adelman lifted a hand and cupped Raymond’s own. Though he was anxious, he did not flinch or resist. ‘She didn’t think you’d listen if she came herself. So, when we got to talking about this runaway son of hers, we hit upon a novel solution: we thought we could kill two birds with one stone. I could take a final turn around the Buckingham Hotel – my husband used to adore this place – and, while I was here, I could ferry a message to her absent son . . .’

‘A message?’ whispered Raymond.

‘It’s your brother,’ Mrs Adelman said. ‘Raymond, he’s coming home.’

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

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‘THIS IS IT, YOUNG LADY. Euston station. You’d better get yourself ready. Unless, that is, you want to go back the way you came?’

Nancy Nettleton stirred at the rough touch of the train guard shepherding everybody off the train. She had not realised that she’d fallen asleep. She’d had her nose in her Reader’s Digest magazine and, the last thing she remembered, they were still somewhere in the Derbyshire hills and it was four hours until London. Now she looked through the window and saw the station concourse bustling as travellers stepped out into the hubbub.

‘Got someone to meet you, have you, love?’

Nancy’s reflection was staring back at her from the fogged window glass. She had thought she looked so smart in her checked overcoat and knitted cap, forest green and embroidered with a single silver star in honour of her mother. Perhaps it was only the hours she’d been asleep, but what London elegance she’d imagined had simply disappeared. The pin in her hair had fallen out, her curls fell, unruly, around her face, and she could even see the indentations the fabric of the seat had made upon her cheek as she slept.

‘Not me,’ she said. ‘I’m here alone.’

The train guard gave her a look that said: you’ll be eaten alive.

‘Perhaps you can point me to the powder room? I have an appointment to keep. I’d like to look . . .’ She fumbled for the right word. ‘Presentable.’

‘You’re asking the wrong man there. You’ll have to look out on the concourse. Can I help you with that?’