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Back The Lucky Escape Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR LAURA JANE WILLIAMS
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. Epilogue
  51. Acknowledgements
  52. Publishing Credits
  53. Keep Reading …
  54. About the Author
  55. Fiction by the same author
  56. About the Publisher

I gave her a quizzical look and took the phone from her wordlessly. Alexander’s mum was on the phone? As Mum left she closed my bedroom door behind her. She hadn’t given me privacy in my whole life. It made me nervous.

I took a breath and told Fernanda I was pleased to hear from her.

‘Annie,’ she intoned, her Brazilian Portuguese vowels crashing into each other. ‘Listen. My son is a foul and ungrateful little desgraçado and I’m going to kill him when I see him. I raised him better than this! No! Don’t say anything! I did. But in the meantime, I’ve got an idea. Now you must let me finish before you say anything, okay?’

‘Okay,’ I agreed, and I had to admit that despite the shock of her calling, my blood began to pump a little more as she told me what she had in mind.

8

‘So basically,’ I said, gesticulating with my freshly delivered espresso martini and forcing the foamy top off the edge and onto my wrist, ‘Fernanda practically begged me to take the honeymoon. On my own. Isn’t that just the oddest thing?’

That morning my parents and Freddie had finally left the house to go back to theirs. I’d thought I couldn’t wait to be home alone and have the house to myself; to have my place be my place, with no busybodies swarming around. But then ten minutes after I’d waved them off with promises to stay in touch daily and Freddie whispering in my ear, I love you Annie-Doo, the silence was deafening. Being in the house alone now was different to being there and waiting for Alexander to get back from rugby training or the pub, or hearing the sound of him through the wall in the kitchen, or upstairs plodding about. Being in the house alone was sad. It was a museum to what I was grieving, and an email to the Core Four (I still hadn’t switched my phone back on, I just couldn’t face it) was responded to as an emergency. They booked a table at a restaurant around the corner, and we were already two cocktails deep half an hour after meeting. They’d been a bit flummoxed I hadn’t reached out sooner, but had also admitted that they knew I’d shout when I was ready. They’d been in contact with Mum by text, and she’d kept them in the loop with how I was, they’d said.