Maddie Please - The Mini-Break

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Sometimes you just need to get away…Lulu has it all; a romance writer at the height of her career, she can often be found attending glittery parties or spending time with her good-looking, health-fanatic boyfriend, Benedict. When writer’s block strikes she goes on a mini-break to Devon, which proves just the tonic she needs. But upon her return to London, she finds her usual perfect life in chaos. Will escaping back to the countryside be the answer? And will life become even more complicated when Lulu runs into handsome, brooding farmer Joe? A funny, feel-good and fabulous read that will take you on a trip you never knew you needed. Have you packed…?

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Suddenly I didn’t want my sister to flirt with Joe Field. I stepped briskly between them and gave him a warm smile of my own.

‘We’re very grateful, Mr Field.’ I looked at my watch; it was half past ten. If we set off soon we could get a new tyre, be back in Notting Hill by early evening and even have time for a comfort stop somewhere too.

‘Right then, here are the keys. I’ve put everything back as best I can,’ Joe said.

He dropped my car keys into my palm; they were still warm from his hand and it was rather thrilling. My fingers curled round them.

‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome. And thanks for the coffee.’

He tipped his head back to finish his drink and Jassy watched him with narrowed and speculative eyes.

‘Would you like a KitKat?’ she said.

‘Um, no thanks, I don’t think so,’ he said.

‘Tunnock’s Tea Cake? Orange Club? I think we’ve eaten all the mint ones.’

‘Jassy!’ I muttered.

Joe pulled on his gloves and gave a grin.

‘I’m fine thanks. I’ll be off and let you get all packed up and back to the bright lights.’

I followed him to the front door. I felt a bit reluctant to let him go. I mean we’re all liberated, independent women aren’t we, but it doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate it when a handsome man wanders through our lives.

‘Thanks again, Joe,’ I said.

He turned in the doorway and shrugged his shoulders under his big, waxed coat.

‘You’re welcome,’ he said. ‘I’m always willing to help a damsel in distress.’

‘What do you do?’ I said. ‘I’m guessing you’re a farmer.’

‘Right first go. I’d better go and get on with it. My farm manager is away for a couple of days. I have sheep up on the moor.’

‘Gosh, sheep!’ I said as though it was something really unusual, although I knew from occasionally watching Countryfile that sheep were about the only thing that suited this part of Devon.

‘Anyway, I must get on. Don’t forget about that tyre,’ he said.

‘I won’t, absolutely not!’

I watched him walk back down the track to where he had left his mud-splattered Land Rover and then I went back into the house.

Jassy was already upstairs in her bedroom, gathering together all the discarded clothes and carnage that routinely surrounds her.

‘He was rather nice,’ I said.

Jassy wasn’t listening. ‘We’re off!’ she carolled happily as I stood watching her. She stuffed a handful of scarves into her case. ‘We’ll be back in London tonight. Proper central heating and takeaways and Wi-Fi and actual phone signal.’

‘You’ve perked up then,’ I said.

‘I have. Haven’t you? And let’s make a sacred pact never to come back here. Ever.’

I looked out of the window, watching as the sun rose over the valley. It was a beautiful day, and something inside me appreciated for the first time how lovely it could be.

‘I think it might be okay if the weather was halfway decent.’

‘You have to be bloody joking!’ Jassy said, widening her eyes at me. ‘I’m never going to set foot out of the Greater London area again unless there’s a frigging good reason and a five-star spa at the end of the journey.’

From being unable to walk further than from her bed to the sofa, Jassy now seemed to have miraculously recovered her mobility and was packed and fidgeting by the front door in no time.

‘Hurry up!’ she said. ‘Otherwise it’s going to rain, or there will be a landslip, or some criminals will escape from the prison or something.’

‘All right, calm down!’

We bundled everything into the back seat and boot of the car, left the front door key under the upturned bucket by the kitchen door where we had found it and were off down the road at a jaunty thirty miles an hour heading for a new tyre in the metropolis of delight that was Okehampton.

Chapter Three

Equipped with a splendid new tyre and filled with joie de vivre, we were back in London in time to dump our bags (no sign of Benedict at mine) and meet up with the usual suspects for an early supper. After a few shrieking and excitable phone calls Jassy decided we would try the new tapas bar that had opened in our absence. It’s like that where we live: someone opens a great new fusion restaurant in a fanfare of publicity and fire-eaters on the pavement and five minutes later it closes and reopens as a French patisserie.

The Gang were all there and they welcomed us back as though we had been off finding the source of the Nile. I scanned the room but Benedict didn’t seem to be around which was disappointing.

‘Darlings, so pleased to have you safely home where you belong!’

It was Jassy’s sister-in-law Maudie who had done something strange to her hair so that the roots were still dark brown, but the ends were now frazzled pink.

‘Maudie!’

Jassy embraced her and we all sat down with the others with a great deal of fuss and noise while a waiter hovered in the background with menus liberally sprinkled with pictures of bulls and matadors. I wasn’t actually sure I approved of that if I’m honest. I mean bull fighting is so horrible.

‘Ralphie was on the phone last night, complaining about the heat in Antigua. I said don’t give me that, you bastard; try London in the pissing rain. He’s missing you and can’t understand why he hasn’t been able to get through when he’s called,’ Maudie said. At this point she spotted a latecomer and waved a languid hand. ‘Keira, come and sit here! I want to know how the wedding plans are going.’

‘I haven’t decided if I’m going to forgive him yet,’ Jassy said, pouting. ‘Those pictures of him in that nightclub were pretty annoying. And he’d better not give me all that “what goes on tour stays on tour” rubbish.’

‘I told him you were still in Devon but I don’t think he believed me. Anyway—’ she waved a hand ‘—first I want Keira to tell you about Mark and Buzz. You will not believe what you are about to hear.’

Keira, a friend for several years, was engaged to Fergus, a computer nerd who whilst monosyllabic and mildly weird probably had more money than the lot of us put together. I was going to be one of her bridesmaids and the wedding was much on her mind these days.

I sat letting the noise wash over me while she recounted a tale of road rage and forged parking permits that had resulted in several arrests and a cracked windscreen. At the same time I tried to decipher a menu that promised various selections of tiny dishes but didn’t seem to have got the pricing right. I mean four dishes for twenty-five quid or five for twenty quid. How does that work then?

As the evening wore on I began to feel strangely out of it. I watched Jassy across the table, laughing and happy. She seemed to have forgotten her aches and pains. Perhaps it was the alcohol?

I nudged my neighbour Tanny, an ex-flatmate and friend since school days in Gloucestershire who now organised extravagant parties for American companies.

‘Have you seen Benedict at all?’

‘Well I haven’t for a few days, but the last time I saw him he was complaining about his workload for the tax evaders in Dubai or something.’ Tanny’s face screwed up into disapproval. ‘I think you are being an absolute saint, putting up with that.’

‘Putting up with what?’

‘Putting up with him moaning all the time. I thought you said you were fed up with him?’

‘Oh I didn’t mean that. I was just cross and tired. Has anyone else mentioned seeing him?’

‘Ask Toby – he lives in your building. Toby, have you seen Benedict recently?’ Tanny yelled across the table to where Toby Sedgemoor, a limp-looking but very successful financial whizz was draped across his latest girlfriend.

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