Just Between Us
Another bestseller full of Cathy Kelly’s trademark warmth, romance, optimism and wit.Friends this good are hard to find…What’s the secret of the fabulous Miller girls?Everyone says that they lead charmed lives: successful lawyer and single mother Stella; TV writer Tara, and dreamy, artistic Holly.Their elegant mother Rose is about to celebrate her fortieth wedding anniversary to husband Hugh, and the Irish town on Kinvarra is looking forward to the celebrations.But as plans are made for the party, the three sisters and their mother start to reveal each of their secret heartaches to one another. Are they strong enough to deal with the truth about their golden lives?
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Just Between Us
Cathy Kelly
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
Copyright © Cathy Kelly 2002
Cathy Kelly asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780007268641
Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2012 ISBN: 9780007389322
Version: 2017-11-21
‘A must for Kelly’s many fans; a warm, moving read.’
Daily Mail
‘Totally believable.’
Rosamunde Pilcher
‘An upbeat and diverting tale skilfully told…Kelly knows what her readers want and consistently delivers.’
Sunday Independent
‘An absorbing, heart-warming tale.’
Company
‘Her skill at dealing with the complexities of modern life, marriage and families is put to good effect as she teases out the secrets of her characters.’
Choice
‘Kelly dramatises her story with plenty of sparky humour.’
The Times
‘Kelly has an admirable capacity to make the readers identify, in turn, with each of her female characters…’
Irish Independent
To John, with love
Table of Contents
Adele looked at the invitation and wondered exactly how much it would cost to print up at least a hundred such creamy, expensive cards. A fortune, she’d bet. It was the embossing that cost so much. And for all that it looked so nice, it was a waste of money.
There were perfectly acceptable invitations available in the newsagent’s – ones that you filled in yourself – but clearly, run-of-the-mill invitations weren’t good enough for her sister-in-law. But then, Rose had always had notions above her station.
Adele ran a deeply disapproving finger over the extravagant letters.
Rose & Hugh Miller have great pleasure in inviting Adele Miller to a lunch party to celebrate their Ruby Wedding Anniversary on Saturday, April 25th at Meadow Lodge, Kinvarra.
She scanned down to the dress code, which was ‘smart casual’, whatever that meant.
She’d wear one of her knitted suits, as she always did. She might be sixty-five, but she was proud of the fact that she was still trimmer than many women of her age. Maybe a shawl just in case it was cold, because it would only be April, and the party was going to be in a marquee and not in the actual house. Adele hadn’t been keen on the idea of a marquee. Talk about a waste of money, not to mention delusions of grandeur. Then Hugh had told her it had been his idea, which had suddenly made the whole plan sound like a great idea after all.
‘A big party in the house could destroy the place, what with high heels digging into the wooden floors and red wine on the chairs, you know that, Della my love,’ Hugh had said the previous week when he’d popped in on his way back from a meeting with a client in a nearby town. Adele had smiled fondly at her little brother as he tucked into the steak sandwich she’d made for him as a little treat. He was the only person in the world who still called her Della. Not that Adele would have permitted anyone else to call her by a pet name. Even the doctor she’d known for forty years was on pain of death to call her anything but Miss Miller. The cheeky pup of a postman had tried to call her by her first name once, but Adele had soon put a halt to his gallop. She wasn’t one for modern ideas of familiarity.
