What Happens Now
The laugh-out-loud new book from the author of The Plus One, perfect for fans of Jilly Cooper and Bridget Jones, coming soon in 2019!Praise for Sophia Money-Coutts:‘So funny. And the sex is amazing – makes me feel like a nun!’ Jilly Cooper‘Light, fizzy and as snort-inducing as a pint of Prosecco.’ Evening Standard Magazine‘Hilarious and compelling.’ Daily Mail‘Perfect summer reading for fans of Jilly Cooper and Bridget Jones.’ HELLO!‘Bridget Jones trapped inside a Jilly Cooper novel. A beach cocktail in book form.’ METRO‘Gloriously cheering.’ Red Magazine‘Howlingly funny.’ India Knight, Sunday Times Magazine‘This saucy read is great sun-lounger fodder.’ Heat‘Sexy and very funny…perfect for fans of Jilly Cooper.’ Closer‘Cheerful, saucy and fun!’ The Sunday Mirror‘As fun and fizzy as a chilled glass of prosecco…this is the perfect read for your holiday.’ The Daily Express
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SOPHIA MONEY-COUTTS is a journalist and author who spent five years studying the British aristocracy while working as Features Director at Tatler. Prior to that she worked as a writer and an editor for the Evening Standard and the Daily Mail in London, and The National in Abu Dhabi. She writes a column for The Sunday Telegraph called Modern Manners and often appears on radio and television channels talking about important topics such as Prince Harry’s wedding and the etiquette of the threesome. What Happens Now? is her second novel.
The Plus One
An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2019
Copyright © Sophia Money-Coutts 2019
Sophia Money-Coutts 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.
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, downloaded, 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.
Ebook Edition © August 2019 ISBN: 9780008288525
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Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9780008288563
‘So funny. And the sex is amazing – makes me feel like a nun!’
Jilly Cooper
‘Howlingly funny.’
Sunday Times
‘Perfectly jolly chick-lit.’
Evening Standard
‘Bridget Jones trapped inside a Jilly Cooper novel. A beach cocktail in book form.’
Metro
‘Fast and furious, funny and fresh.’
Daily Mail
‘Light, fizzy and as snort-inducing as a pint of Prosecco.’
ES Magazine
‘Gloriously cheering.’
Red
‘I started reading this book on the 3.48 from Waterloo and by 4.15 I was crying with laughter. Brilliant.’
Sarah Morgan
‘A hilariously funny debut.’
Woman
‘Perfect for fans of Jilly Cooper and Bridget Jones.’
Hello!
‘As fun and fizzy as a chilled glass of Prosecco.’
Daily Express
‘Sexy and very funny.’
Closer
‘Fizzy, fun and some seriously saucy shenanigans.’
Mail on Sunday
‘Cheerful, saucy and fun.’
The Sunday Mirror
‘Bridget Jones’s Diary as interpreted by Julian Fellowes…a classy read.’
Observer
‘This saucy read is great sun-lounger fodder.’
Heat
‘Fresh and funny.’
Belfast Telegraph
‘Fans of Bridget Jones will love this romcom.’
Sunday Express S Magazine
‘The perfect book to escape with.’
The Sun
‘Marvellous…a juicy read to romp through.’
i
To all parents, whatever shape they come in.
Contents
I WASN’T SURE I had enough wee for the stick. I pressed my bladder through my jeans with my fingertips, holding the pregnancy test in the other hand. Not bursting but it would have to do. I peeled off the top of the foil packet, balanced the stick on the top of the loo roll and unzipped my flies. I sat down and reached back for the stick.
Looking down at my thighs, I realized I was sitting too far forward on the loo seat, so I shuffled my bottom backwards and widened my knees until there was enough space to reach my hand underneath me, trying to avoid grazing the loo bowl with my knuckles. Christ, this was unsanitary. There must be better ways.
I narrowed my eyes at the bath in front of me and wondered if it would be easier to step into that, crouch down and wee on the stick in the bath, letting it trickle out down the plughole. No worse than weeing in the shower, right?
I shook my head. I was in my parents’ bathroom. Couldn’t do a pregnancy test by pissing on a stick in my mum’s bath. She loved that bath. She spent hours in it wearing her frilly bath hat, shouting at Radio Norfolk.
I frowned down into the dark space between my legs again where the stick was poised in mid-air, ready for action. What a simple bit of plastic to deliver such potentially life-changing news. It was the shape of the vape my friend Clem carried round with him everywhere, loaded with lemon sherbert- flavoured liquid.
