Welcome to Cherry Pie Island â once you step on to the island, youâll never want to leave!
Socialite Emily Hunter-Brown has just bought the old manor house on Cherry Pie Island â and her friends think sheâs gone mad! Still, they should have known that wild-child Emily will try anything onceâ¦even settling down!
But when Emily discovers she has an allotment to take care of as well as the crumbling mansion, sheâs unexpectedly flummoxed! Itâs all very well knowing that you have to swap your high heels for Hunter welliesâ¦.but itâs quite another actually getting dirt underneath her Chanel Rouge Noir polished nails?
And what is she supposed to do with her bumper crop of courgettes anyway?!
Chapter One
âThatâs it!â Emily stood up, both hands raised in an enough-is-enough gesture. âThis interview is done.â
âEmily, Emily, sorry, I apologise. Itâs just this is what our readers want. I wonât mention Giles again. Sit down, please.â Faye Starkey, the journalist from Deluxe magazine, had half stood up, reaching towards Emily with a calming outstretched hand.
Emily was tired. Sheâd never walked out of an interview before. But this was the last one of the day. Sheâd coped with the pile-up of questions about the birth of her ex-fiancé Giles Foxâs third baby, sheâd smiled when theyâd brought up his recent proposal to Adeline Cooper as heâd accepted his Oscar, sheâd laughed off questions about her eternal single status, her broodiness â especially since her brother had recently announced that he and his girlfriend were expecting, her poorly judged flings, her short-lived blue hair, her motherâs remarriage, but then Faye Starkey had leant forward and said, âNow, about this house youâve just bought. Cherry Pie Island, isnât it? Thatâs quite a departure for you, Emily. Iâm wondering whatâs going on.â
Emily had pushed her hair away from her face. The air conditioning in the hotel was broken and sweat was starting to bead on her forehead, outside a helicopter was waiting on the lush grass to take her to an awards ceremony in Cannes. âNothingâs going on, Faye.â
Faye had leant back in her seat, crossed her legs, taken a sip of water. Emilyâs water had run out and the jug on the table was empty. âI just think, the recent hair changes, the launch of the new signature scent â Cherry Blossom, isnât it? â hugely nostalgic, Giles having more and more babies, buying up some great house with far too many bedrooms for a single woman with no expectation of children ⦠Emily, it smacks of a mid-life crisis. However you try and dress it up. I canât imagine how must it feel; the press have you earmarked as being desperate for marriage and a baby so no eligible man will come within a mile! Surely this house, thrown into the mix, will have them running for the hills. I feel for you, I really do. If weâre completely honest, youâre romantically doomed.â
Thatâs when Emily had stood up to leave. At the mention of the house something inside of her had snapped. It was the best thing that had happened to her in years and somehow theyâd already snaked their way inside and put their grubby little stamp on it. âFaye.â Emily turned back and rested her hand on the back of the sofa. âThis is over. Iâm not answering anything else.â
âOh come on! What happened to the Emily Hunter-Brown that we all know and love? Just give me a little soundbite, tell me who youâre shagging and your plans to wreak havoc in the countryside and I can flip the whole focus of the piece.â
Emily ran her tongue along her top lip, watched Faye with her chewed Biro hovering over her notepad.
Just give her what she wants and sheâll go away.
But something made this time different. Something held the quip back about blazing a trail through the sleepy little island. Something Emily couldnât quite pinpoint, but she knew there was only one answer. âSorry, Faye, thatâs private.â