Chapters (84)
- Chapter one
- Chapter two
- Chapter three
- Chapter four
- Chapter five
- Chapter six
- Chapter seven
- Chapter eight
- Chapter nine
- Chapter ten
- Chapter eleven
- Chapter twelve
- Chapter thirteen
- Chapter fourteen
- Chapter fifteen
- Chapter sixteen
- Chapter seventeen
- Chapter eighteen
- Chapter nineteen
- Chapter twenty
- Chapter twenty-one
- Chapter twenty-two
- Chapter twenty-three
- Chapter twenty-four
- Chapter twenty-five
- Chapter twenty-six
- Chapter twenty-seven
- Chapter twenty-eight
- Chapter twenty-nine
- Chapter thirty
- Chapter thirty-one
- Chapter thirty-two
- Chapter thirty-three
- Chapter thirty-four
- Chapter thirty-five
- Chapter thirty-six
- Chapter thirty-seven
- Chapter thirty-eight
- Chapter thirty-nine
- Chapter forty
- Chapter forty-one
- Chapter forty-two
- Chapter forty-three
- Chapter forty-four
- Chapter forty-five
- Chapter forty-six
- Chapter forty-seven
- Chapter forty-eight
- Chapter forty-nine
- Chapter fifty
- Chapter fifty-one
- Chapter fifty-two
- Chapter fifty-three
- Chapter fifty-four
- Chapter fifty-five
- Chapter fifty-six
- Chapter fifty-seven
- Chapter fifty-eight
- Chapter fifty-nine
- Chapter sixty
- Chapter sixty-one
- Chapter sixty-two
- Chapter sixty-three
- Chapter sixty-four
- Chapter sixty-five
- Chapter sixty-six
- Chapter sixty-seven
- Chapter sixty-eight
- Chapter sixty-nine
- Chapter seventy
- Chapter seventy-one
- Chapter seventy-two
- Chapter seventy-three
- Chapter seventy-four
- Chapter seventy-five
- Chapter seventy-six
- Chapter seventy-seven
- Chapter seventy-eight
- Chapter seventy-nine
- Chapter eighty
- Chapter eighty-one
- Chapter eighty-two
- Chapter eighty-three
- Chapter eighty-four
The street was deserted—no sign of shattered lives lurking behind the Georgian frontages—and he clomped to the car and threw his holdall in the boot. He rested his head on the steering wheel before pulling himself together and easing the car out into the road. He just wanted to be out of here—back at home. And, if he could manufacture some sort of miracle—back with Lyssa.
Chapter fifty-two
Chapter fifty-two
Edie noticed Pip’s eyes widen with alarm as she approached. He stood up to greet her, clutching at the white-starched napkin on his lap.
‘Hi,’ she said, trying to overcome her shyness with a stab of bravado.
‘Hi,’ Pip said, still looking stunned.
‘This is nice.’ Her eyes took in the room. The trendy décor, the trendy food, the trendy people and the lack of accompanying not very trendy babies.
Pip scratched his chin. ‘And who’s this little fellow?’ A shadow crossed his eyes. ‘It is a fellow?’
No one had ever mistaken Archie with his fat, ruddy cheeks and his shock of blond hair for a girl before. Clearly Pip wasn’t experienced in the realms of childcare.
‘This is Archie,’ Edie said, praying that her son might have a sudden change of personality and behave for once.
‘Truck!’ Archie said and threw his big red one on the floor to emphasise the fact.
‘Yes,’ Pip said, bending to pick it up. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’
Edie struggled to pull out her chair and Pip rushed to her side. ‘Where are you going to put it…him?’
‘I don’t know,’ Edie said, searching the room. ‘Do they have any baby chairs?’
‘Baby chairs…’ Pip looked as if this was an alien concept to him. ‘I thought this was your local haunt?’
‘No,’ Edie said. ‘I’ve never been here before in my life.’ She didn’t like to tell him that anywhere she went these days had to have chicken nuggets on the menu.