The Secret of Happy Ever After by Lucy Dillon

Author:Lucy Dillon
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Tags: Chick-Lit Romance
ISBN: 9781444727043
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2011-11-10T00:00:00+00:00

16

‘The Twilight trilogy is first love times a million; I feel sorry for the generation of boys who have to live up to the broody magnificence of Edward Cullen.’

Anna McQueen

One of the things Anna looked forward to most about the girls’ trips to America – apart from the chance to be alone with Phil, and not have to do so much laundry, and to get more than thirty seconds’ worth of hot water – was the chance to read in peace.

Parenthood had really cut into her reading time. Before she was married, Anna’s diary revolved around her holidays and the books she planned to take with her, and if she had enough baggage allowance to allow for everything she’d stockpiled.

She’d only taken a tiny reading bag on honeymoon to Venice (four books, two wedding-themed, two Italian-set) and by then Phil had known her well enough to appreciate that four books meant almost total concentration on him. In the holidays they’d shared afterwards, they’d arrived at a compromise; she’d read, while he swam in the pool. The fact that he let her do that made her confident she’d chosen the right man.

Now the holidays had had to be scaled back, but Anna didn’t mind having a stay-cation. Even as she was folding up a pile of T-shirts for Becca’s suitcase, Anna was feverishly planning her escapist reading list for the Easter holiday like a foodie planning a massive nine-course blow-out. For once she wasn’t scouring the Sunday papers for reviews, she was cherrypicking books off the shop shelves. Rediscovering how dark Roald Dahl really was had given her an urge to re-read all her childhood favourites, especially now Lily was showing an interest in reading more together.

The whole of the Narnia series, maybe, she thought, as the paperback covers flashed into her mind’s eye. That was topical, with Aslan and Easter and all that. Her imagination immediately threw up the snow scenes – the Turkish Delight and the magical drink in the goblet that tasted of something delicious. In Anna’s head, it was hot Ribena.

Or Miss Marple? That would be nice if the weather was good. In the garden, with a plate of hot cross buns and a pot of tea, working her way round St Mary Mead’s homicidal vicars and parlourmaids. Miss Marple talking like Joan Hickson. Everyone being terribly English. Bliss.

She knew she should probably spend the week thrashing out the baby issue with Phil, while they had some privacy, but something was stopping her. Fear. Weariness. She couldn’t bear to think about it.

Becca and Chloe were in Becca’s bedroom with her, bickering about something while they packed their suitcases with the pile of clean clothes Anna was decanting from the laundry basket, but Anna wasn’t listening. She’d developed a method of tuning them both out until the bickering reached a certain pitch at which she’d have to step in. Or if there was a pause.

Like now.

She looked up from the basket, now nearly empty, and saw that Becca and Chloe were glaring at each other.

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