Karen Ross - Five Wakes and a Wedding

Published by AVON

A Division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2019

Copyright © Karen Ross 2019

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019

Cover illustrations © Shutterstock

Bells © Shutterstock.com

Karen Ross asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of 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 ebook 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 © July 2019 ISBN: 9780008354350

Version: 2019-06-18

For Francesca

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page Five Wakes and a Wedding KAREN ROSS

Copyright Published by AVON A Division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2019 Copyright © Karen Ross 2019 Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019 Cover illustrations © Shutterstock Bells © Shutterstock.com Karen Ross asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue copy of 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 ebook 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 © July 2019 ISBN: 9780008354350 Version: 2019-06-18

Dedication For Francesca

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Funeral Number One

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

Funeral Number Two

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Funeral Number Three

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Funeral Number Four

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Funeral Number Five

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Acknowledgements

Nine Book Club Questions and a Suggestion

About the Author

About the Publisher

‘Nina! One of the fridges is making a weird noise.’ Gloria’s voice is a welcome distraction from my latest attempt at flower arranging. At least, until I realise what I’ve just heard.

Shit.

I abandon the cornflowers, delphiniums and rust-coloured foliage, dash through to the back room, and hurtle down the stairs that lead to the basement storage area. With every step I take, a measured ‘beep, beeep, beeeep’ – like the sound of hospital machinery hooked up to someone in a coma – grows louder.

‘Something must have tripped the alarm! What did you do to the fridge?’ I ask as Gloria comes into sight.

‘Nothing.’

Gloria is unruffled by my accusatory tone. She’s my housemate.

‘I was looking for the cleaning spray,’ she says. ‘To take the whitewash off the window.’

The fridge’s mournful signal of distress continues.

‘Maybe buying my equipment on eBay wasn’t such a good idea,’ I manage. ‘But at least there’s nothing in it yet.’

As if to prove it, I open the door to the beeping fridge.

The noise stops and is immediately replaced by the sound of a wooden object being hit – repeatedly – by a hammer. ‘That must be Edo!’

Gloria hears the relief in my voice. She manoeuvres herself around the fridge, squeezes my shoulder and says, ‘C’mon. Let’s go see.’

My hand is still on the fridge door. Tentatively, I close it.

Beep

Beeep.

Beeeep.

The damn thing isn’t even cold enough to keep an ice lolly from melting.

Whereas I am shivering with anticipation.

This is going to be an amazing day and I’m not going to let a dodgy fridge spoil a single moment. I shrug, and reopen the door to silence the skull-piercing sound. I’ll deal with it later. For now, I follow Gloria back the way I’ve just come.

Presuming we’re not being burgled and it really is Edo, the rhythmic hammering means he’s been as good as his word. He’s made me a shop sign and it seems he’s fixing it in place. He’s been hugely secretive about the design – ‘Nina, I’m an artist! It’ll be awesome!’ – and I’m finally going to get to see what he’s done.

Except Gloria can’t get out of the door.

She’s inched it open, only to find herself nose to nose with a hulking white Transit van parked extremely illegally and mostly on the pavement.

It’s Edo’s van and I realise he’s standing on the roof of it to put up the sign above the door. A good idea because it’s a lot cheaper than scaffolding. And as it’s before eight o’clock, when the Primrose Hill traffic wardens begin their daily rounds of terror, he’ll get away with it.

Gloria steps back from the door. ‘Best to let Edo get on with it,’ she advises. ‘Anyway, how are you feeling, sweets? Ready for the off?’

Everything’s been such a rush, there’s been no time to arrange those delphiniums let alone smell the roses. But there’s no need to pause for thought.

‘I’m ridiculously excited!’ I declare. ‘It’s like being a five-year-old on Christmas Eve. I’m so impatient for everything to start happening.’

I don’t know why I didn’t do this years ago. I must have thought about it a thousand times, but never dared.

‘What about the fridge?’

‘Let’s not talk about the fridge.’

Gloria begins to clean the display window she helped me whitewash when we started fitting out my shiny new shop. I watch the murky coating that’s kept the outside world from seeing how I’ve transformed the space disappear and think about my own transformation.

I still can’t believe it. Only a couple of months ago, I was snuggled deep inside my own little comfort hole. It wasn’t until change started happening all around me that I even began to realise I’d been snared. Then fate gave me a push – although at the time, it felt more like a mighty kick up the arse – and after that everything fell into place.