Chapter One
âOw.â
âStop moving.â
âOw.â
âJesus, youâre hopeless.â Emily paused, allowing Jane to sit forward for a moment and rub her eyebrows as she stood waiting, brandishing a pair of gold glitter tweezers from her own brand EHB cosmetics range. âYou can have these when Iâm finished,â she said. âMy gift to your poor eyebrows. Now letâs get on with it,â she added and carried on her ferocious plucking.
Two days before, none of this had even been on the horizon. Jane had spent the morning poring over her late-motherâs accounts with her feet dangling over the edge of her houseboat, her toes just touching the water, having a cup of tea and a crumpet. Her main focus had been how on earth her mum had kept a massive savings account from her and never spent a penny of it while theyâd lived together in a boat that was no wider than a person lying flat on their back and long enough for one bedroom, a living area with a sofa and a tiny kitchen at the far end where they stored all the kitchen paraphernalia in hatches in the floorboards. Her whole life, pretty much, sheâd slept on the sofa, packing up her bedding every morning and stowing it in a drawer underneath. In the savings account was enough to build another story on this place and more.
But her mother wasnât here any more to ask about the money so instead she had studied the statements, phoned the bank to check it wasnât a mistake, packed it all back up again in the bulging manila folder tied with string and tried not to let the mystery overtake her. She knew better than to try and rationalise anything to do with her mother. Jane had spent a lifetime being prepared for the unexpected. Perhaps that was why she got on so well with Emily â someone else who lived their life by completely their own rules.
âThis is no good.â Emily paused, having plucked both brows into perfect arches. âItâs not enough. I thought it would be enough but itâs not enough, Jane. Iâm going to have to do something with the hair.â
âPlease donât do anything with my hair. Itâs fine as it is, really.â
Emily squinted and made a face. âI promise, Jane, it really is not.â
Jane was about to counter, when her friend Annie came in the door with her ancient pug Buster. âSorry Iâm late,â she said, âBusterâs so slow nowadays.â Then she dropped her voice to a really low whisper and said, âI donât think heâs going to last long.â
Emily looked from the dog sniffing all her make-up bags back up to Annie, âHe canât hear you, heâs a dog. Is he going to pee on that stuff?â
Annie shrugged. âIâd hope not.â
Emily got hold of the strap of the bag and pulled it away from the pug. Jane took the moment of distraction to try and stand up from the sofa and out of Emilyâs clutches.
âStay there!â Emily said, one arm on the bag, one hand on Janeâs shoulder urging her to sit.
Annie frowned, âWhatâs going on?â
âShe wonât let me do her hair.â Emily made a face.
âI just donât think I need my hair doing, itâs fine.â
Annie bit her lip, seemed to blanche slightly at the two faces staring at her expecting her to intervene with an answer. âI thinkââ She scratched her head. âI think we have to look at the scenario. I mean if it was just some quick meeting somewhere then fine, go with your normal hair but, Jane, this is a big thing. Youâve worked really hard to get this guy to meet you and youâre going to The Ritz. I mean, The Ritz! When was the last time you went to the Ritz?â
Jane shook her head. âIâve never been to The Ritz.â
âReally?â Emily looked surprised. âNever?â