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This ebook first published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2012
Copyright © Tilly Bagshawe 2012
Cover images © Simon Wilkinson/Getty Images (woman); Shutterstock.com (illustrations)
Tilly Bagshawe 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 authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © December 2012 ISBN: 9780007472543
Version: 2014-07-31
âAll right, Michael, letâs try it again, shall we? And this time maybe without the finger up your nose.â
Laura Tiverton gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile to the six-year-old boy on stage. The child glared back at her sullenly. For a Christmas angel in the Fittlescombe village Nativity play, Michael OâBrien was sadly lacking in festive spirit. Not that Laura blamed him for that. At this point she wanted nothing more than to go home, lock the door, pour herself an enormous Laphroaig and eat an entire bowl of Cadburyâs chocolate buttons in front of Downton Abbey.
ââWe Three Kings of Orient Areâ, from the top.â She forced the jollity into her voice as Mrs Bramdean launched into the familiar chords on St Hildaâs Primary Schoolâs famously out-of-tune piano. What on earth possessed me to agree to direct this fiasco? Laura thought despairingly. Iâm a screenwriter, not a schoolteacher. I donât even like children. Then she thought about the baby sheâd miscarried in the summer â Johnâs baby â and for the hundredth time that week found herself fighting back tears.
Twenty-eight years old, with a mane of curly hair the same blue-black as a crowâs feathers, pale skin and soulful, dark eyes like two wells of oil, Laura Tiverton was both attractive and successful. After three years spent working as a writer on two BBC dramas, last year sheâd finally produced a pilot of her own, a show about a newly qualified teacher from the shires left to sink or swim in a failing inner-city comprehensive school. Although the series wasnât ultimately commissioned, Laura was already winning praise for herself as an innovative and talented young TV writer. Her love affair with the BBCâs very handsome, very married Head of Drama, John Bingham, had only served to raise her profile further as one of the corporationâs brilliantly rising stars.
And then last spring, in one fell swoop, it had all gone horribly wrong. Laura fell unexpectedly pregnant. Although the baby wasnât planned, sheâd been delighted, believing John Binghamâs assurances that he loved her, that his marriage had been over for years, and that he only stayed with Felicia because of their children, now all in their late teens.
âYouâve done the right thing for so long, darling,â Laura told him over dinner, the night she did the test. âBut now weâll have a child of our own to think of. Donât you think itâs time you made the split with Felicia official?â
John looked so noble and concerned across the table, his chiselled features somehow even handsomer at fifty than they had been in his youth. There was a wisdom about him, a maturity and solidity that Laura found sexy and reassuring at the same time. He mumbled something about timings and âbeing sensitive to everyone involvedâ, and Laura thought, Heâll make a wonderful father. Iâm so lucky.
The next morning Laura was fired. Her show was cancelled, the producer citing âcreative issuesâ. When Laura tried to call John to remonstrate, she discovered heâd changed his mobile number. His embarrassed PA, Caroline, refused even to give Laura an appointment to see him.
âIâm so sorry. His scheduleâs er ⦠well itâs terribly full. Maybe in a month or two. When things have settled down.â
Reeling with shock, Laura had committed the cardinal sin of calling her lover at home. She would never forget the strained, tearful voice on the other end of the line.