PRAISE FOR AMANDA PROWSE

‘Amanda Prowse is the queen of family drama’

Daily Mail

‘A powerful and emotional work of fiction’

Piers Morgan

‘A deeply emotional, unputdownable read’

Red

‘Heartbreaking and heartwarming in equal measure’

The Lady

‘Amanda Prowse is the queen of heartbreak fiction’

The Mail Online

‘Captivating, heartbreaking and superbly written’

Closer

‘You’ll fall in love with this’

Cosmopolitan

‘Warmly accessible but subtle . . . moving and inspiring’

Daily Mail

‘Magical’

Now

‘Deeply moving and emotional, Amanda Prowse handles her explosive subjects with delicate skill’

Daily Mail

‘Uplifting and positive, but you will still need a box of tissues’

Hello!

‘A gut-wrenching and absolutely brilliant read’

The Irish Sun

‘Deeply moving and eye-opening. Powerful and emotional drama that packs a real punch’

Heat

ALSO BY AMANDA PROWSE

Novels

Poppy Day

What Have I Done?

Clover’s Child

A Little Love

Will You Remember Me?

Christmas for One

A Mother’s Story

Perfect Daughter

The Second Chance Café

Three and a Half Heartbeats

Another Love

My Husband’s Wife

I Won’t Be Home for Christmas

The Food of Love

The Idea of You

The Art of Hiding

Anna

Theo

How to Fall in Love Again

The Coordinates of Loss

The Girl in the Corner

The Things I Know

The Light in the Hallway

The Day She Came Back

An Ordinary Life

Novellas

The Game

Something Quite Beautiful

A Christmas Wish

Ten Pound Ticket

Imogen’s Baby

Miss Potterton’s Birthday Tea

Mr Portobello’s Morning Paper

Memoir

The Boy Between: A Mother and Son’s Journey From a World Gone Grey (with Josiah Hartley)

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

1984

Ordinarily it would have been exciting, travelling somewhere by train, but there was nothing ordinary about this trip or this day. Bessie’s limbs felt leaden, her spirit even more so. Philip stowed her big suitcase in the overhead wire rack and slid into the seat facing her on the other side of the table. His Adam’s apple looked huge, rising up and down like a lift, carrying conflicting emotions from his brain to his mouth and then back again.

‘I brought some snacks. Sandwiches – cheese and tomato,’ he said.

He placed on the table between them the square Tupperware container with the faded green lid and the small piccalilli stain in the corner. The sight of the box, something from home and touched by her mother’s fingers, was enough to bring on her tears. She shook her head.

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Well, not now, but maybe later.’

‘Are you actually turning into Mum?’ she asked, more sharply than she had intended.

‘God, I do hope not.’ Philip drummed his fingers. ‘I’ll leave the thermos in the bag then.’

She felt the sting of guilt. Her brother was her single ally right now, her confidant and only friend. He deserved better.

‘Sorry, Philip, I can’t seem to . . .’ The words ran out.

‘It’s okay,’ he nodded. ‘I understand.’