A division of HarperCollins Publishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Harper Impulse an imprint of
HarperCollins Publishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by Harper Impulse 2017
Copyright © Lilly Bartlett 2017
Cover illustration © Shutterstock.com
Cover design © Micaela Alcaino 2017
Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2017
Lilly Bartlett 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 e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, 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: 9780008226602
Ebook Edition © June 2017 ISBN: 9780008226596
Version: 2018-05-24
The book is dedicated to my friend, Fanny Blake – author, editor, unerring support and amazing woman. It was your idea to unleash Lilly Bartlett. Thank you, and here’s to many more years together in the park.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk
Copyright Harper Impulse an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by Harper Impulse 2017 Copyright © Lilly Bartlett 2017 Cover illustration © Shutterstock.com Cover design © Micaela Alcaino 2017 Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2017 Lilly Bartlett 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 e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, 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: 9780008226602 Ebook Edition © June 2017 ISBN: 9780008226596 Version: 2018-05-24
Dedication The book is dedicated to my friend, Fanny Blake – author, editor, unerring support and amazing woman. It was your idea to unleash Lilly Bartlett. Thank you, and here’s to many more years together in the park.
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
Keep Reading …
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Author Note
About HarperImpulse
About the Publisher
I can’t keep my hand from shaking as I reread the crinkled notice. What a complete load of rubbish! Criminals?! They’re only children, for heaven’s sake. Most of them haven’t even been to court yet. Intimidated grannies? Have you seen the old-timers around here? I wouldn’t fancy my chances against any of them down a dark alley.
This really is the last straw.
All publicity might be good publicity, but the leaflet that’s been pushed through every letterbox on the square won’t exactly bring the punters in for a cuppa, will it?
‘They were up all over the main road too,’ says Lou, chewing on the end of her pale blue hair. She knows it’s not attractive – or hygienic – when she does that, but who can blame her? She’s only worried for me. For all of us.
‘You want me to send the lads round to ’ave a word?’ she asks. ‘You know it’s her behind it.’ She punches her fist into the palm of her hand, like I wouldn’t catch her meaning otherwise. Fat chance of that. Lou’s about as subtle as an armed robbery. The last thing we need now is for her to go over there and prove everyone right.
Of course I know it’s her behind it. It’s been her behind it ever since we opened the café. But sending the kids around is only going to make the situation worse. And Lou knows that as well as I do.
I can feel tears welling in my eyes as I scan the leaflet again. It’s not sadness, though. It’s pissed-offness. I stare hard at the strings of calico bunting that criss-cross the ceiling until I’m sure I won’t weep in front of my employees. Every single person in here, I remind myself – sipping their hot drinks, chatting, laughing or quietly enjoying the warm cosy ambiance – loves our café. So get a grip on yourself. Sticks and stones and all that.
One of the walkie-talkies crackles to life on the countertop. ‘Emma, Emma, come in, Emma.’
I’m not sure why I ever thought it would be clever to let the customers upstairs give us orders over those things. Most of the time they use them to ask the answers to stupid trivia questions that they’re too lazy to look up on their phones.
I’m in no mood for trivia right now. ‘What is it, Leo?’ I’m sure my annoyance comes through loud and clear despite the static.
‘We need you upstairs.’
‘Do you actually need me to bring you something or is this your usual afternoon plea for attention? Because I haven’t really got time right now.’
There’s a pause. ‘It’s just my usual plea for attention. Sorry to bother you. Over and out.’ The walkie-talkie goes dead.
Now I’m cross and I feel bad. I’m absolutely definitely not treating Leo any differently than usual. I’d have been just as short with him yesterday. It’s the situation that’s changed, not me. And definitely not my feelings.
Something tells me today should have been a duvet day.
Two months earlier…
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