Jane Wenham-Jones - The Big Five O

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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2019

Copyright © Jane Wenham-Jones 2019

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019

Cover illustration © Robyn Neild / New Division

Jane Wenham-Jones 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.

Source ISBN: 9780008278694

Ebook Edition © July 2019 ISBN: 9780008278687

Version: 2019-09-05

‘Fresh, funny and wise’ Katie Fforde

‘I love Jane’s writing!’ Jill Mansell

‘feel-good’ Woman and Home

‘The book deserves a bloody magnum – I loved it.’ Judy Astley

‘Thoughtful, insightful and often laugh-out-loud funny’ Daily Mail

‘The story you’ve always wanted to read about infidelity’ Cosmopolitan

‘A perfect read’ OK

‘Frothy and funny!’ Woman’s Own

‘Humorous, warm-hearted and full of charm. We loved it.’

Woman’s Weekly

‘Great fun!’ Heat

A great read!’ Best

‘Funny and knowing … warm and thought provoking’ Daisy Buchanan

‘Wisdom, humour and real insight … poignant and funny by turns.’ Emma Lee-Potter

‘A delightful romp … You’ll be laughing out loud! Jane Corry

‘Warm, wise and funny’ Marina O’Loughlin

‘Made me laugh … Made me think … Made me want more!’ Julie Wassamer, author of The Whitstable Pearl Mystery

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Jane Wenham-Jones

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Jane’s twenty things you find out when you’re over Fifty

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About Harper Impulse

About the Publisher

For all those in their fabulous fifties. And beyond …

Facing Fifty

Fighting Fifty

Nifty at Fifty

Shifty at Fifty

Fat at Fifty

Fit and Fifty

Fed up and fifty

Fucking Fifty!

They were all laughing like drains when we were writing the invite. So I tried to laugh too. Come to our Joint 50 thBirthday …

Charlotte and Fay and Sherie and Roz. All four of us are hitting the half century this year, so it’s going to be a ball. We’ve been planning it for weeks. A big venue, lots of friends, banners, balloons, fizz and strictly no Oh-God-I’m-Fifty tears …

That’s what they tell me.

I am crying because that party is going to happen without me. I don’t know how this nightmare is going to unfold but I know in my heart it won’t end well.

I’m so afraid but I can’t bring myself to tell them. Sometimes I take a deep breath and my mouth opens but I always close it again. As if the very act of saying it out loud will make it real and I won’t be able to pretend any more that things might still be OK.

So each time we add to the arrangements, I have to keep smiling. I have to nod and look pleased and thrilled at the thought of every last bloom and fairy light.

I must be doing it well as they think I’m as excited as they are.

They have no idea at all what’s really going on …

It was Charlotte’s idea, of course. Charlotte loved any excuse for a bash and she wasn’t going to let this one go.

‘Makes so much sense,’ she announced, tossing back her mass of fair curls. ‘We pool our resources, friends and legendary organisational skills and put on an extravaganza.’ She threw out her arms as if to include the multitudes. ‘I’m thinking the pavilion. Broadstairs won’t know what’s hit it.’

Wine had been taken so immediately a committee was formed. Charlotte would be Chair, because traditionally she threw the best parties. Fay would be treasurer as she ran her own business; Roz quickly offered to take the notes, grasping an excuse to say as little as possible, until she’d figured out how the hell she’d manage this, while Sherie had laughed and smoothed back her expensively-streaked blonde hair.

‘And I shall sit and look decorative.’

‘There’s a change,’ Fay had growled.

‘You can be Artistic Director,’ said Charlotte decisively. ‘Colour schemes?’

As they fell to discussing the various merits of silver and black against burgundy and grey, Roz had felt the familiar tightening in her stomach. Now, three weeks later, as she looked at the notepad on her lap where she’d rapidly listed the latest ideas tumbling from Charlotte’s mouth for a party she couldn’t begin to finance, her anxiety deepened. She could barely afford the coffee they were drinking and Fay had just waved her hand for more.

‘We need to fix this date,’ Charlotte was saying, lounging back comfortably on the squishy leather sofa in ‘Le Café’, the town’s latest coffee lounge. ‘The pav is knee-deep in weddings, of course, in June but they have got a Saturday in July–’

‘We could always do a Friday–’ said Sherie.

‘But people who are travelling a long way might be at work till six.’ Roz smiled tightly. ‘Some of us have fixed hours!’

‘The Saturday is the 28 th,’ said Charlotte. ‘Shall I book it then?’

‘Depends who wants to wait and who wants to do it early,’ said Fay briskly.

Charlotte’s birthday was just four weeks away in May, Roz’s in late June. Fay’s birthday wasn’t until August and Sherie was the baby of the group, hanging on to forty-nine until late September. Or – knowing Sherie – several years longer.

‘The mid-way point,’ continued Fay, always the one they turned to for mental arithmetic, ‘is around the 20 thJuly, so that would work. She looked at Sherie. ‘Are you OK with it being so long before yours?’