Chapters (67)
- Cover
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- PART TWO
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART FOUR
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- Mailing list
- A Letter from Kathryn
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by Kathryn Croft
Sienna will never deny that it was all her idea. Later her motivation will be questioned, speculation over why she wanted it to happen spreading like a disease. She will be blamed. But to Sienna, it is just meant to be harmless fun, something to help them all escape from whatever they’re all running from. And they all are running from something, even if they won’t admit it to themselves.
‘What are you both talking about?’ Sienna asks.
They’ve finished dinner – gunpowder lamb, which turns out surprisingly well considering she’s never made it before – and Greg and Rob are deep in conversation in the gazebo at the bottom of the garden. The fairy lights hang over their heads, small sparkles of light, making her feel like she’s anywhere other than London. Sienna is aware of how beautiful the evening is – there’s still a hint of evening sun, which wraps its warmth around them, and the sky is a mixture of purple and orange, like an abstract painting.
It’s been a while since Abby trotted off to the bathroom, and Sienna wonders if she’s being sick; they’ve all been a bit overzealous with the wine this evening. She doesn’t care; she wants to live in this moment for far longer than she knows it will last.
‘Can you believe we’re talking about reality TV?’ Rob says. ‘How dreadful it is. I mean, what kind of person do you have to be to want to put yourself out there on one of those shows?’
Beside him, Greg snorts. ‘Although, the ones where they at least have to have some sort of talent aren’t quite as bad. For example, there’s that cooking one, isn’t there? I forget what it’s called.’
Sienna wonders how on earth this conversation came up but she’s grateful everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. Except where is Abby? Perhaps she should go and check in a minute.
Greg is lying back on the garden sofa, one hand behind his head and the other clutching his beer, which rests on his stomach. She rarely sees him this relaxed – mostly his body language gives away the fact that he is stressed or uptight – but whenever he’s around Rob and Abby all the tension within him seems to evaporate. Perhaps even more so than when he’s with Marty and the others. Her theory is that maybe there’s less pressure when he’s not around other surgeons.
‘The Great British Bake Off?’ Sienna suggests.
‘Yep, that’s the one. I don’t mind that, not that I watch it.’