A Grand Old Time: The laugh-out-loud and feel-good romantic comedy with a difference you must read in 2018

A Grand Old Time: The laugh-out-loud and feel-good romantic comedy with a difference you must read in 2018
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It’s never too late to have the time of your life . . .Heartwarming, hilarious and joyful – the perfect read for anyone who loved Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine, A Man Called Ove, Ruth Jones and Jojo Moyes.Evie Gallagher is regretting her hasty move into a care home. She may be seventy-five and recently widowed, but she’s absolutely not dead yet. And so, one morning, Evie walks out of Sheldon Lodge and sets off on a Great Adventure across Europe.But not everyone thinks Great Adventures are appropriate for women of Evie’s age, least of all her son Brendan and his wife Maura, who follow a trail of puzzling text messages to bring her home.When they finally catch up with her, there are shocks in store . . . because while Brendan may have given up on life and love, Evie certainly has not.'Lovely . . . a book that assures that life is far from over at seventy' Cathy Hopkins, bestselling author of The Kicking the Bucket List’Brimming with warmth, humour and a love of life… a wonderful escapade’ Fiona Gibson, bestselling author of The Woman Who Upped and Left‘I absolutely loved everything about this book… 5* out of 5*’ The Ginger Book Geek‘By its end I’d laughed, cringed, felt really concerned, giggled, cried (rather a lot) and emerged into the rosier future with a heart broken, mended, and singing with joy’ Being Anne‘5 stars! I Loved Evie . . . She has a Passion and Zest for life… I want to go travelling with her! . . . If you read one book that is a little different this month let it be A Grand Old Time! You won't regret It!’ Dash Fan

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Published by Avon an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street,

London, SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018

Copyright © Judy Leigh 2018

Cover illustration © Becky Glass

Cover design © Emma Rogers

Judy Leigh asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of 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.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008269197

Ebook Edition © April 2018 ISBN: 9780008269203

Version: 2018-01-11

Thanks to Kiran at Keane Kataria and to Rachel Faulkner-Willcocks and her team at Avon, HarperCollins for being incredible and making this novel become real. To the talented MA students and lecturers, Falmouth, class of 2015, and to Sarah and Jim for letting me stay at the villa. To the Totnes writing group – thanks for conversations and creativity. To my early draft readers, Erika, Sarah, Beau, for their warmth and good humour. To Liam and Caitlan for their irrepressible intelligence and energy. To Tony and Kim for wild Sunday lunches. To Big G for all the love and for keeping me grounded. To my Dad, Tosh, and to my own Mammy, my inspiration.

For Irene.


She bounced up and down on the edge of her bed, still in her nightie. When the creaking stopped, the silence closed in around her. Everyone was asleep in Sheldon Lodge. The room was dim and cramped, so she went over to the window and looked outside at the path that led to the road into Dublin. A bird flitted up and away. A single cloud moved across a square of sky. Evie made a puffing noise through her lips and pulled herself away.

She went back to the bed and picked up the thin paperback lying on the duvet. Season of the Heart. Recommended reading for the ladies at Sheldon Lodge. Evie had never been much of a reader. There was a picture of a milkmaid in russet petticoats on the front cover, sitting in a cornfield. Her hair was the same bleached yellow as the corn and her face was sad. Evie flipped the novel over and read the blurb. Dulcie Jones isthrust into the life of a country maid when her gambling father sells her to pay his debts. But Marcus, the mysterious son of her new master Lord Diamant, has other plans for Dulcie …

Evie threw the book away from her onto the duvet. It was six thirty am.

‘What a lot of shite,’ she muttered to herself, and then she raised her voice: ‘It’s all complete shite.’

Sheldon Lodge offered its usual deaf ear, although she expected Mrs Lofthouse to run in, all wobbling bosoms and waving hands, to tell her to go back to bed and not disturb the other residents. Evie shuffled into her slippers and dressing gown, and snorted through her nostrils. Most of the other residents were disturbed already, well into their eighties and nineties – even the youngest of them at least ten years older than her.

She wandered into the kitchen, listening for Barry the chef who would make her a cup of tea. She could hear him behind the metal shutters, moving around, organising breakfast. She banged her fist softly to call for his attention and waited. No reply.

Evie sat down at the little table with its plastic cloth printed with yellow roses and realised she was in Maud Delaney’s seat. Maud, with her thin hair cropped short, usually spent the day in the chair, humped over the table, her head resting against a cold cup of tea, her eyes covered with her puffy ringed fingers. Maud’s place was next to Annie Armstrong, who gulped air like a fish. Every day Evie wondered if Maud was dead until Slawka and Joe, two of the carers, came to move her with the winch. At least it broke the monotony.



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