Chapters (39)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Dedication
- 1. Ellen
- 2. Ellen
- 3. Alexa
- 4. Jack
- 5. Ellen
- 6. Alexa
- 7. Ellen
- 8. Jack
- 9. Ellen
- 10. Jack
- 11. Ellen
- 12. Alexa
- 13. Ellen
- 14. Ellen
- 15. Ellen
- 16. Alexa
- 17. Jack
- 18. Ellen
- 19. Alexa
- 20. Jack
- 21. Alexa
- 22. Jack
- 23. Alexa
- 24. Ellen
- 25. Ellen
- 26
- 27. Ben
- 28. Alexa
- 29. Jack
- 30. Ellen
- 31. Jack
- Ellen
- Acknowledgements
- Read More
- 1
- THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
So, those were the first two disasters. And while they were vivid and fairly devastating, Anya could take limited comfort in the fact that neither was her fault. It was not her fault that Connor had called time on their four-year relationship, and it was not her fault that she had to move in with Cold Claire, because she had nowhere else to go. She, Paddy and Georgie had done two trips in Paddy’s Nissan Micra, both times filled to the brim with the contents of her life. Claire had at least shown willing – she’d carried a suitcase up to the room – although Richard had simply stood on the landing, stroking his stomach with long, bony fingers.
Georgie had played diplomat all afternoon, while Claire and Paddy had barely exchanged more than a glower.
‘I truly think she was born without a soul,’ he’d said, acidly, a few hours later, when they had taken cosy refuge in Cooper’s, he and Anya touching the bottle of red in the middle of the table as though it were a talisman.
‘For God’s sake, you two; you’re so hard on her,’ Georgie had grumbled, taking a sip of her own gin and tonic. ‘She’s literally just put a roof over your head.’
Anya had made a face, and remembered all the times she’d been made to share her strawberry laces with Claire in the car on the way back from Woolworths and Claire refused them in favour of fruit. No wonder the only man who could bear her cousin was almost certainly a sociopath.
But still, she felt the victim, clearly: a victim of an unfeeling universe that had it in for her. At least this afforded her a sort of get-out-of-jail-free card, or more accurately, a ‘get-out-of-the-pub-without-paying’ card for the first few weeks of high-definition misery.
Unfortunately, what happened next – the third disaster, or, strike three – could not necessarily be blamed on the cruelties of a cold universe. For whichever way she squared it, Anya only really had herself to blame for quitting her well-paid – though admittedly soulless – job.
And that was the third disaster.
THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
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